tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28124138735662437632024-02-07T15:27:07.256-08:00No Frump PastorThe Lord announces the word, and the women who proclaim it are a mighty throng
Psalm 68:11Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-50522670609032817192018-03-22T22:17:00.000-07:002018-03-22T22:17:07.658-07:00Who You Are, Where You AreTo those of you who have recently started following @nofrumppastor, welcome! In the ways of blog posts, I'll tell you you haven't missed much. My blogging habits can be described as sporadic at best. But, nevertheless, I want to welcome you and give you a little background on who I am and what this #nofrump thing is all about.<br />
I am in my third year of seminary, currently serving on internship in Seattle. I grew up Lutheran, so I certainly knew women could be pastors. From a young age, though, I said I wanted to be the first female Pope. I think it was the flashy outfit the Pope got to wear. Who can say? Over time, following some dabbling in biology and health sciences, I decided that a good halfway point between Pope and doctor was a Lutheran pastor, so here we are.<br />
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@nofrumppastor was born one night while I was on call as a chaplain during my summer of Clinical Pastoral Education. I thought, what if instead of tagging @jcrew, someone was tagging @augsburgfortress in their outfit selfies. And that was just such a funny idea to me that I decided a clergy fashion instagram was necessary and needed to be put out in the universe.<br />
Over time, though, I found this to not only be a lighthearted fashion instagram, but I also found this to be a necessary way to assert this truth: clergy are, praise be to God, a diverse people, reflective of a diverse church. Pastors look different than they did 50 years ago. And if they look different, so should their clothes. We shouldn't all need to check our personalities at the door to become someone else. No, God calls who we are, where we are. God hasn't called me to this work i<i>n spite of</i> my gender, my age, my life experience; but God has called me, and God has called each of you <i>because of the very person you are</i>. The parts of you that you love and the parts that you aren't as proud of. God loves and uses <i>all of it</i>.<br />
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And that's where we find ourselves in this #nofrump community. It isn't that everyone should look like me or dress like me. It is about bringing <i>yourself</i> into this work, and celebrating that expression together. Tag me in pictures, hashtag your pictures #greatclosetofwitnesses, and I will love to share pieces of your story with those who follow along.<br />
This brings me to my first <b>invitation</b>. I'll tell you the background of this. I'm currently on Day 22 of Whole 30, and I have been closely following several instagram accounts to gather good recipes. I now love the idea of instagram takeovers--getting to learn from different people through a shared platform. So if any of you are interested in sharing some of your life with the #nofrump community through a @nofrumppastor takeover, please let me know. I would love for us all to learn from each other in our daily lives in this work.<br />
Second, I get more and more followers only because of you. You point people my way, and I just think that is the coolest. It's a pretty niche market we have here, so I don't expect this to ever be a wildly large following. However, we are quite close to the 500 mark. But since we are out of the 500th year of the Reformation, I think we really need to set our sights on year 501, when all the Reformation paraphernalia is on sale probably. Once I hit 501 followers, I'll do a fun giveaway that is to be determined, but sure to rally the #nofrump spirit.<br />
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Y'all. I can't tell you how thankful I am for each of you. Thank you for being your brave and bold selves. The church and the world is better with you in it.Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-46337634855441326332016-09-25T12:44:00.000-07:002016-09-25T12:44:23.980-07:00Angry In Pink<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I am angry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I have been looking forward to
wearing this particular outfit this week. My role in worship today required me
to wear a robe. So I said to myself, “If they can’t see my outfit, my shoes
will be fabulous.” I have been waiting anxiously to wear these hot pink shoes
as I processed down the aisle with incense and read the intercessions.
This morning, Chelsey and I had the 8:30 service off, while Mathew had responsibilities,
so she and I went to get some coffee. Mathew and I found this coffee shop last
week—good atmosphere, good coffee, close to church. Last week, a group of 8 or
so retired men were sitting in the shop. This week, when Chelsey and I walked
in, the same men sat there, in their same spot, regulars apparently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We stood in line, talking. I was in
my collar, Chelsey was not. I noticed the men all looking at me, talking,
hearing one say, “I gotta get a picture of this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was uncomfortable. One man approached me, the other man
holding up his phone. He says, “So what are you, a nun?!” I want to engage him
in conversation, yet I notice is friend is beside him taking pictures. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Distracted, I said, “I am actually in seminary to become a
Lutheran pastor.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hear, “Can I get a picture?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hearing another one’s phone camera shutter and shout, “Welp!
Too late!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They walked back to their table,
laughed, continued to talk about me, continued to take pictures of me. My
initial thoughts were:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t believe this
just happened.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe if I was wearing
something a little more toned down, this wouldn’t have happened.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe they meant it as
a compliment.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am so mad. This wasn’t
a conversation; this was me being objectified by a group of men.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I want to say
something, but I don’t even know what to say.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe my anger isn’t
justified; maybe I’m overreacting.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Chelsey and
I went to sit outside, clear from this group of men. We talked a lot about what
happened, around our own responses to this encounter. I am deeply frustrated with
myself. I deeply believe that sexism is wrong, that men have no right to
objectify women. I believe that how those men behaved is wrong, mostly because
of how it made me feel, and that no one, man or any other person, has the right
to tell me that my feelings from that encounter are not real, or that I should
not feel angry. Yet, in that moment, with those men, I was silent. I said
nothing to them that indicated any of this. I am angry with myself that I did
not speak up for myself, that I did not point out to these men that how they
interacted with me was harassment. I am angry that just last week, Mathew and I
sat right next to those men, Mathew was wearing a collar, I was wearing regular
clothes, and those men didn’t blink an eye at Mathew. I am mad at feeling that
if a man had been with me, those men probably would not have spoken to me or
taken pictures of me in the same way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yet I think
there is a larger reason for why those men acted as they did, and why I
responded as I did, and that is the sexism that is embedded deeply in our culture. I
will speak mostly for myself, because I think, or I hope, that we can see how
these men’s behavior was sexist, especially when put in contrast with their engagement
(or lack of) with Mathew last week. As for myself, I am coming to learn that I
have deeply internalized sexism. It is why I didn’t speak up. I have been
conditioned by our society and culture to not trust any “bad” feelings that
arise in myself; I have been conditioned to be nice to everyone always, even if
that comes at a personal cost. I have been taught that anger is bad, and I
should not use or acknowledge it. I have been taught that I need a man to speak
up for me and protect me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Y’all these
are lies. This simply is not true. Living in this way actually continues a
cycle where men can speak and act as they want, and where women are expected to
allow it, perhaps even encourage it, and take ownership of their actions as being "our fault". I “should” myself a lot. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> have spoken up. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> have worn something different. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> have just not gotten coffee. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>just see this as a compliment,
laugh it off. But actually, the only thing I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> do is expect others to treat me with respect and dignity of
an equal human being. And the feelings that emerge when that does not happen
are justified, not to be buried. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So I walked
from that coffee shop to church. I walked into the sanctuary as the choir was practicing.
I noticed today the variety of people in this choir—people of all genders,
people with tattoos and piercings, people wearing jeans, people wearing suits
and dresses, old people and young people. From there, I went to robe up for
worship. In that room, those of us serving were all women, three young girls,
myself, a female assisting minister, and a female pastor. We named and
celebrated that it was an all-women group. In the worship, the music, the liturgy,
I reflected on the understanding in Lutheran theology of this time we live in
now, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the already and the not yet</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christ has already come to the world, but we
are still living in a time of waiting for Christ to return. This means that the
world as it is now is not perfect, but we have a vision of what the world will
be when Christ comes again. I think we get a glimpse of the world as it should be
most clearly when we worship. When we gather at a table for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> God’s people, in rich celebration of
the variety of people God calls to that table, we see the world as it should
be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gathering
with my siblings today gave me strength to continue to fight, to use this anger
for change, to remember that there is an alternate way of living possible.
Gathering today gave me the courage to continue to wear whatever shoes I want,
confident that the person in those shoes is supposed to be here, that she is
not less than, that she has a voice. My prayer for all of us is that we use our
anger, that we stand up for what is right, that we speak up when we can, and
have grace for ourselves when we cannot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-35792718385098665542016-09-11T12:54:00.001-07:002016-09-11T12:54:40.329-07:00Where the Clergy Fashion Bloggers At?It may seem a little silly, and I think it started that way. We've all seen the fashion blogs and instagram accounts; I know I follow several. I thought it would be hilarious to do something similar with the outfits I wore with my clerical collar. Instead of #jcrew #bananarepublic #katespade, the hashtags that would go with these outfits would be #augsburgfortress #almy (for those of you non-clergy folk, that's where you buy clerical shirts and other stuff). It seemed like a hilarious idea in my head, so I started it, with the tagline "saying 'yes' to the call doesn't mean saying 'no' to fashion." <br />
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And then, I went through a summer of clinical pastoral education where my goal was around articulating a pastoral identity. In this summer, to make a long story short, I came to understand a little more that <i>I</i>, Sarah, am called to be a pastor. My person, the person I have been, am, and will be is the person who is called to be a pastor. My identity or essence won't change when, God-willing, I am ordained. So then the reflection comes around who I am, have been, and one day will be. What gifts are unique to me that then are unique to my pastoral identity? I, Sarah, have unique gifts that I bring to the role of pastor. Certainly, I will grow and learn and change throughout my life and throughout this work, but I think it is worth emphasizing to each of us, that the person we are right now is a gift to who and where we are called to be. Especially as a young woman, I know I have internalized sexism that exists in this and many other lines of work. Once I'm older, or if I was a man, my experience would be different, maybe easier. But, what would it look like if I believed that I-- a young, single, female--actually was not only equally capable as my male, or middle-aged male counterparts, but also that with my identity comes unique gifts that equip me to answer this call in unique and necessary ways? I believe that instead of waiting until I have enough knowledge or experience, or waiting until I'm recognized as equal, that I can begin to live in response to the conviction that <i>I</i> am called to this work. <br />
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So that brings us back to this instagram account. @nofrumppastor is my own push to empower each of us, where we are, how we express ourselves, to live fully into the life God has called us to live. This world asks us to conform in a lot of ways, and I just don't believe that this is always helpful. Especially as I move through seminary, I have found liberation in learning that I have as much to bring to this work as my male colleagues, as my LGBTQ colleagues, as my colleagues of color. God created us a diverse bunch, and I hope that this instagram can serve as a lighthearted reminder of this much deeper truth: that we all belong, we all are gifted, and we don't have to check our identity at the door when called to do God's work, whatever that may be. <br />
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<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-15122030836900584482015-11-17T17:37:00.000-08:002015-11-17T17:37:05.127-08:00Orang Puti SajaRecently, as you may have gathered from the influx of Facebook posts, I was in LA for the 2015 Special Olympics World Games. I was accompanying team Malaysia throughout the games. In short, it was an incredible experience. I was continuously in awe of how pieces of my life were coming together to equip me for these 2 weeks, and I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have been a part of this event.<br />
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Welcoming people into your culture can be eye opening. It is so interesting to hear the things that stick out as unique to those who are visiting. I remember when my parents came to visit me in Malaysia, hearing their reactions to different parts of life in Malaysia that had grown to be insignificant to me. So here I was, in LA (where I had never been before), welcoming 41 athletes, coaches, and leaders from Malaysia to the Special Olympics World Games. Initially there were the expected reactions: huge serving sizes, where's the rice?, sexy advertisements… but there was one observation that continued to resurface.<br />
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Each time we arrived to a crosswalk, someone would make the statement, "orang puti saja boleh jalan". Basically saying, only the white man is allowed to cross the street. This became the running joke of the week. Sometimes saying, "oh just Sarah is allowed to cross."</div>
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It is funny that this is something that stuck out so much to my group, but this simple observation reveals a much larger truth in our society. </div>
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I went late at night to pick up team Malaysia from the airport. As I was introducing myself and learning everyone's names, a police man walked by. One of the athletes looked at me and said, "I know white police like to hit people." Just to put this in perspective for you, Malaysia is on the opposite side of the world. However, news from the US does make its way across the ocean. Here is a girl who just arrived to the US for the first time, and this is the first sentence that comes out of her mouth to me. </div>
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Welcome to America. </div>
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Only the white man is allowed to cross the street. </div>
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In America, we have this understood and unspoken rule where brown and black bodies must stay in their respectively assigned neighborhoods. Problems arise when brown and black bodies cross the street into areas that are understood and unspoken as only for white bodies. White bodies can cross freely into any areas, but the dark bodies get into trouble when they are found to be in places it is believed by the white bodies they should not be. </div>
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I wish this hadn't been a lesson on American culture for our Malaysian friends, but inevitably questions surrounding race relationships came up in the 2 weeks. And I explained it as best as I could with the understanding I have, but the reality is that it is so complex and so intregated in our culture that it is hard to even recognize all the ways we have done this to ourselves. The crossing signs are flashing our white privilege in our faces, for crying out loud, yet we don't see it because it has become a normal part of daily life.</div>
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You want to know one of the best resources we have for understanding ourselves? Become an observer alongside other observers. Listen to the observations and questions of those whose reality this isn't. We have brothers and sisters who can help us put on a new lens of understanding, who have life experiences that can help inform where we find ourselves as a country. Praise the Lord we have people who can point out to us some things that are really messed up that we have never thought about. It's ok to not have all the answers, but it isn't ok to stop asking the really important questions. And it is most important, in my opinion, to be vulnerable as a country. To be able to admit that there is work to be done and that we don't have all the answers as a closed community of the United States. If we can move to not only listen to the questions our brothers and sisters around the world have, but maybe even go to them for ideas and answers- that is when beautiful things will happen. </div>
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Orang puti saja boleh jalan. Bila orang lain boleh jalan?</div>
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Only the white man can walk. When will others be able to walk?</div>
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Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-4108926329097751942015-08-11T20:38:00.000-07:002015-08-11T20:38:00.583-07:00Nanti, laI was tired. I had traveled for over 24 hours. I had slept in places that left my back aching and my eyes baggy. I had crossed timezones to come to this place, and when I finally stepped off the plane, I could still somehow make out through the fatigue and heat that this was a place I had been called to come, even if only for a little while.<br />
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It is hard to know where to begin this story, but as I reflect, no matter where I start, the beginnings are almost identical. Almost two years ago to the day, I set out on a journey to Southeast Asia with the Young Adults in Global Mission program to serve for a year in Malaysia. I left Chicago on August 21, 2013 and nearly 24 hours later, I walked off the plane to arrive in my new home for the year, Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia. To be honest, I wasn't sure why I was there. I knew and trusted the global mission personnel of the ELCA to help discern where God was calling me in this world, but that did not mean that my human/Sarah-nature was not full of questions and concerns as I entered into this new reality. Slowly, but very surely I grew to love my home in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia. I lived with Mrs. Soong, my Chinese grandmother. She taught me more about what hospitality means than I had ever experienced before. I had two site placements, a kindergarten and a home for adults with disabilities. I had wonderful friends from church and my community. I learned about what it means to live in a richly celebrated diverse community. I was forced to rely on my faith and God's faithfulness in ways I hadn't before. I ate amazing food. I learned to live in the present. I was taught to allow myself to be loved fiercely, and do everything I could to send that love back out. <br />
Then it was time to leave. Saying goodbye is the absolute worst. But, I've done my best to remain in contact with family in friends in Malaysia, and if you've had conversations with me in the year I've been back, I hope you know that my experience there has forever changed the way I see myself and this world. I did leave my English/Malay dictionary behind in Malaysia, because when would I need that again?<br />
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<i>Nanti</i>. It is one of my favorite Malay words. It doesn't have some deep, beautiful meaning. I just like to say it. It means "later". Helpful to know, right?<br />
So when would I need that dictionary again? <i>Nanti</i>. <br />
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I had a friend who was also serving as a YAGM in Malaysia, Jenna B. She is one of those people who has more connections than you see as being humanly possible. It is beautiful, and I love that about her. Jenna also worked with people with disabilities in Malaysia. She worked at a school for children with disabilities. In that time, she met and fostered relationships with people who work with Special Olympics Malaysia. And by that I mean, she climbed (one of) the tallest mountain(s) in Southeast Asia with the SO Malaysia team. I'm serious when I say she's a star. Earlier this year, Jenna was contacted by the SO Malaysia team to serve at the Special Olympics World Games in LA as their delegation liaison, meaning she was would be the one who helped host, problem solve, and help with language and logistics for the team. Jenna was heading back to Asia to teach for two years in Hong Kong at the end of the summer, however, so she had to say "no". But you know who has been pretty available for adventures since returning to America from Malaysia? This girl. So Jenna reached out to me, connected me to the appropriate people, and next thing I know, I'm heading to LA for the 2015 Special Olympics World Games!<br />
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It took longer than expected to get there, about 24 hours. I was so tired when I arrived. While I was excited for the adventure, I was a little anxious about what the next 2 weeks with the Malaysia team would look like, and incredibly anxious about my rusty Malay. I was unsure of the specifics of this role I had said "yes" to, but having arrived a day late, I had to hit the ground running. I was welcomed to LA by the other delegate liaison for Malaysia, Tiffany. She is from Malaysia, but has lived in the US for about 10 years. She picked me up, had water and granola bars for me in her car, and off we went together to begin our 2 week adventure. This was the first of many times that Tiffany proved to be an incredible blessing during the LA games. <br />
That evening, we welcomed team Malaysia to LA. 39 athletes and coaches made the long journey from Malaysia. Suddenly I was surrounded by the Malay language, of course talking all about the food I loved and the athletes' favorite foods, we journeyed together to our host town for the first couple days, Culver City where we stayed to get acclimated to LA and take some time to prep for the games.<br />
Once we moved from our host town into our respective lodging at USC and UCLA, the games began. I spent my days accompanying the team and cheering at the track, pool, bowling alley, soccer field, equestrian center, golf course, and bocce court. We dealt with questions and situations as they came up, but mostly my time was spent doing what I learned to do in Malaysia- being. It was a busy "being", as in some days I didn't necessarily have time for all my meals, I woke up early and went to bed late, but those 2 weeks were full of such joy. In our first days together, the Malaysia head of delegation, Mr. Jayasingh gave Tiffany and me a Special Olympics pin. He said, "You're a part of this family. Whatever we do in the next 2 weeks, we do it together." It's funny when you think you are called somewhere for one thing, only to learn that something a little different is in store. I went to LA to help host the Malaysia team, but oddly enough I found myself being hosted and welcomed by team Malaysia, too. Jesus is sneaky like that, I think.<br />
The connections I found with this team were pretty incredible, too. I was talking with one of the coaches one evening. She was from my state in Malaysia, from the northern tip of Borneo. I told her the church I belonged to while in KK, and she said, "Oh my cousin goes there." Turns out, her cousin was my cell group leader at church. Just casually finding incredibly close connections with people from my home halfway around the world. One of the athlete's families had an apartment in the part of the city I lived in, so I could talk with them about the shops where I missed eating breakfast and dinner.<br />
Two weeks passed so quickly. Before I realized it, competitions were coming to an end, Malaysia was brining in medals everyday, and athletes were celebrating their incredible accomplishments as a team. Malaysia brought home a total of 21 medals from the games. It was an honor to have the opportunity to be a part of this worldwide event. It was funny, most of the delegate liaisons had some ethnic/national connection with the team they were serving. Then I would walk by with team Malaysia and people would give me a confused look. "Its a long story," I'd say. Because the road to this specific adventure is a little unique. But being in LA, going to Malaysia in the first place, being a camp counselor… all of these experiences continue to affirm for me that God equips us for adventures and experiences we can't even begin to see coming.<br />
Again, it was time to say goodbye. And still, goodbyes are the absolute worst. But leaving this experience, I'm a little more hesitant to say I'll never use my Malay again. <i>Nanti. </i><br />
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My stories end similarly, too. <br />
I left feeling full- full from good conversations, full from time spent with incredible, loving people, full from meeting Jesus in the faces and words of so many people. And while I arrived feeling tired and a little scared, I left having found rest. I was content and at peace in ways I hadn't been in so long. The camp I worked at in college had a hashtag one summer after I was gone, #TotalKairosMoment, to describe times when God's time and our time meet. I am one who finds myself looking to what's next often, almost always in a countdown mode of some sort. But there are times when I am pushed away from the countdown. <i>Nanti</i>, what's next will come… later. But now, be present and aware of the ways God is actively at work in your midst. <br />
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<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-72100470316103479122015-07-06T11:16:00.001-07:002015-07-06T11:16:38.035-07:00The Quilt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've thought long and hard about this post. So to introduce it, I'll make my first request. I request that you pull up One Republic's "I Lived" on youtube and have it playing in the background as you embark on reading this post. You also have the slightly less desirable choice of Nickleback's "Photograph", in which you would then have to read this post in a very raspy, screamy tone, so I'll strongly encourage the first choice. <br />
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Great. You have your background music. Let's begin.<br />
Somewhere along my YAGM journey, definitely early on, I had this bright idea (it's my personality, I get big ideas all the time… I'm a little dodgy on the followthrough, but more about my psych evaluation another day) to collect fabric throughout my year. Little pieces here and there, and then once I was back state-side, enlist the help of my rockstar sewing goddess of an aunt to help me put together some sort of project.<br />
It was a really helpful goal in the beginning. I was at a huge loss for how to fill my time. Coming off of 16 years of school, this was the first time in my life when I had to figure out what exactly I was supposed to be doing, no right or wrong answers, just figuring out what to do when I wasn't at work or church. I started trekking into town on the weekends. Saturday mornings, I would take the bus into the city center. I would walk from my bus to get some roti and apple juice, then I would commence aimlessly wandering around. I tried to pretend like this was a hugely important task, but like I said, I was at a loss for a lot of things, and this- this became my routine. The place I usually got my roti and juice was nestled in the middle of a LOT of fabric shops. So, I began wandering around those. In my first weekend, I found a beautiful piece of fabric- lots of blues and purples. <br />
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This was my first purchase. I went home and hung it in my room. This became the backdrop of family pictures, cards, etc. It brightened my room all year long. Remember the wallpaper that hung in your room as a child? I have similar feelings now when I look at this fabric.<br />
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Slowly, the pieces grew more and more. I wouldn't always buy fabric when I went into town, but I would most definitely almost always look. A few more pieces joined my collection from KK, my city in Malaysia- A red batik pattern, a blue polka dot with pink flowers. These don't hold as many stories with them as they do emotions. I can very clearly remember how I was feeling when I bought each piece in KK. Some days I felt like I could conquer the world- I had just successfully navigated the bus system, or had managed to complete a week of work. But other days I felt overwhelmed, probably a little hopeless, and very skeptical of this whole journey I had embarked on. My year of service forced me to acknowledge all the emotions, and even celebrate them. Finding ways to share it all was one of the most healing and empowering pieces of my year. Which is a perfect transition into the next piece.<br />
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And then, there's this one… oh the minions.<br />
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You may have thought to yourself when you saw this quilt: "it would be so beautiful, but then there's minions…" But you see, this is where I think the beauty of a good story comes in. Peter Harrits (our country coordinator), bless his soul. I blame him. When we got off the plane in Malaysia (which I honestly can say I remember basically nothing of that flight) Peter took a group photo to put on Facebook and inserted minions into the picture (yes, there's an app for that). <br />
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We quickly learned that minions were all the rage in Malaysia. We adopted them as our spirit-people (people? objects, animals…?) as a country group. YAGM Malaysia became YAGMinions. It works. We had some programatic transitions with YAGM Malaysia, kicked off by none other than P. Harrits himself. He took a new call a couple months into our YAGM year, making it definitely necessary to provide him with a parting gift from his people. Delia and myself took it to the fabric shops. Inside, we found the most perfect fabric of all: minion fabric. We asked for a couple yards (in Malay… the first of many small victories) and headed for a tailor. We walked into this really nice men's tailor shop. (Mind you this conversation was taking place in Malay- Woot woot, Delia! We were 2 white girls. Holding minion fabric. In a nice men's tailor shop.) We asked the tailor if he could make us a shirt. He asked us what size. It was then that we realized we did not know ol' Peter's sizes, so we looked at each other, shrugged, and said "ehh, about your size."<br />
I went to pick it up a couple days later. We gave it to Peter as a goodbye gift. And it fit. Perfectly. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Though not technically a clerical shirt, the minion custom-made shirt proved to be a very versatile piece.</td></tr>
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The minions represent the constant layer of support I had over the 9 months in Malaysia and 2ish months after. They represent the people who have fielded my tear-filled phone calls about how everything and everyone is stupid since returning, and they have laughed really hard with me when I remember stories, characteristics, or words that only a small small group of people here in the US could ever understand. They're my people. And saying I am thankful is a huge understatement. So while you may say "…but there's minions." I say, "AND THERE'S MINIONS! Let me tell you about my friends."<br />
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So you want to talk about my friends, the minions?? Let's talk about one of the most eye-catching pieces of fabric on the quilt… for me at least. The green and gold floral. <br />
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You know what that one is? That's my hospital fabric. Y'all may know I had a small stay in the orchid suite in Malaysia. The orchid suite referring to the name of my room in the hospital. I was in the hospital for <strike>reasons that are gross and weird</strike>, actually let's call it what it was: I had an abscess- an infection. YAY tropical countries and growing things on your body! Alright- so we've mentioned it, let's move onto the bigger picture. It was a 5 day stay in the orchid suite. And you know what? I was maybe alone for 5 hours those whole 5 days. Friends stayed with me, watched movies with me, helped me laugh about the absurd situation I found myself in, spent the night. And then my country coordinator (different one, his name is Chris) and his wife let me stay at their house with them for a week. And he drove me to doctors visits. And made me breakfast burritos. There are a handful of times in my life when I remember being consciously aware that I was being taken care of by the Holy Spirit, and this is absolutely one of those times. It was a beautiful, beautiful 5 days. The way in which it came about is incredibly disgusting, but the hospitality, love and friendship still blows my mind. <br />
When I got out of the hospital and was able to walk around semi-comfortably again, I recruited my pal Daniel (PC, Christian Ed, Lutheridge, YAGM, Malaysia, and soon-to-be-but-we-didn't-know-yet roomie in Thailand) to walk around Little India in KL with me to look for a piece of fabric to commemorate this incredibly strange milestone in my year. <br />
As we were making the quilt, my aunt kept commenting on how difficult that particular piece of fabric was to work with. And finally I had to tell her that its ironic that it was that piece that was giving her so much trouble- because that was my hospital fabric. <br />
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(Oh man, this is getting long. And I'm nowhere near done. Take a break if you need to, switch the song… might I suggest "Wake Me Up" by Avicii)<br />
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More and more, I gathered pieces for the quilt. When Delia and I went to Kuching for school holiday, we may have gone a little crazy on the sarong shopping. One of those made it onto the quilt. I still have a bag full of sarongs, so maybe I should start gifting those to people. One day, Katrina, Jenna and I had a little KK stay-cation as we called it. We explored the city we had been living in for months. That day I purchased the pink checkered fabric from the KK city mosque.<br />
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I got it for 2 reasons:<br />
1. The presence of mosques, the call to prayer, just religious diversity played a huge role in my year. This fabric is what is worn for Friday prayer services- hence, it being sold at the mosque.<br />
2. The more comical reason. During orientation, I was told that if I needed a reference for where my bus stop was, that I could tell the driver "the Likas Giant". Ok, so when I got off the bus that first time, I saw we were near the big city mosque. Makes sense… Likas Giant, its a giant mosque. Seemed like a kind of odd name for a place of worship, but who am I to judge? It probably just translates weird. MONTHS into my time in Malaysia, MONTHS of telling people that I live near the Likas Giant, that I want to go to the Likas Giant, that the Likas Giant is beautiful… I learn that the Likas Giant, is in fact, a large grocery store… like Wal-Mart. <br />
So I had to get a little piece of the "Giant" to bring back with me. <br />
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The other piece from our stay-cation came from the Sabah State museum (I really am Mandy Derrick's daughter). The visit to the museum wasn't so fun, and as per usual, the gift shop was my favorite part of the trip. I bought a piece of batik. <br />
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Because it was later in my year, I could choose this piece with the understanding of what batik was and how batik is incredibly descriptive of Malaysian culture. To me, this is the most "Malaysian" piece of fabric on the quilt, so I chose to bind the quilt with it as well. <br />
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This quilt has more than just Malaysia stories, though. It has stories from my travels during and after the year. The beautiful oriental fabric came from Singapore. <br />
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I got a free calendar with the purchase because I just bought all that was left on the bolt… aka still have a ton left over of that one and have every intention of sitting next to Aunt Ann while she makes me a skirt out of it.<br />
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And then there's my Thailand fabrics. There's one in particular I feel the need to point out. Its a rough pink material, thicker than the others, and after I got it, I really didn't think it was that pretty. <br />
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I purchased it on the day I crossed into Burma for all of 3 minutes to renew my visa. Y'all have probably picked up on the fact that my YAGM year had a lot of visa talk. The whole reason I was in Thailand in the first place was because of visa complications in Malaysia. So, I was finishing out my YAGM year in Bangkok, Thailand. The tourist visa I received upon entering the country expired 2 weeks before I was supposed to leave Thailand for good. Therefore, I had to leave the country and reenter to get my passport stamped. I was up at the border with the office I worked with in Thailand, and while they went off to do a program with a local non-profit that day, I tried to make my way to the Thai-Burmese border. Y'all I'm not even going to lie, it was absolutely one of the most uncomfortable and unsettling days of my YAGM year. My Thai abilities are minimal. So I was relying on a friend of my office to help me over the phone to direct the cab driver. Once I arrived at the border, there were so many large police buses filled with people. I don't know their stories, but I imagine it is one that isn't unfamiliar to many whose lives are very dependent upon which side of human-made boundaries they find themselves. The cab driver took me to the immigration office at the border. He dropped me off, but I realized I wasn't at quite the right place. So I had to chase him down again. Once we arrived at the border- it was ironically (to me) named the "Friendship Bridge", there was a long line of people- people who I could tell were very familiar with the system, who did this all the time- maybe daily. The line was deep with Thai and Burmese people, there were no other tall people with fair skin. My cab driver took me by the arm and pulled me to the front of the line, in front of all these people who had been waiting for so long. I tried to tell him no, but he insisted. I got my stamp out of the country, crossed the bridge into Burma (Myanmar), paid for my entrance stamp, got my exit stamp, and walked back across the bridge to reenter Thailand. My cab was gone. I sat down in a shop to have something to drink and figure out how the heck I was going to get back to where I was staying. To kill time until I devised a plan, I wandered through shops. I found a stack of fabrics, used as sarongs. And I thought to myself, this experience absolutely warrants a piece of fabric for my quilt. So I picked one. And in looking at my quilt, it is my least favorite piece. Which is fitting- immigration and visas are two words that will forever have a different meaning after my YAGM year. It is a piece of my story that is rough, not too pretty, and doesn't feel so great to talk about and reflect upon, but exists nonetheless. <br />
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The other countries represented in the quilt are Indonesia by way of Bali and South Korea. <br />
Bali in a sentence: Bali ate my money. <br />
And the piece of fabric on the quilt represents just that. <br />
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Delia and I went to a beautiful temple one day. When we pulled up, there were shops lining the street that led to the temple with women selling sarongs, because you couldn't enter the temple without being properly covered. Sure, we could have rented one before going in. But the fabrics were beautiful. Balinese pricing is super inflated because of all the tourism, so while I paid somewhere around 18 ringget in Malaysia (6USD) for a batik sarong, in Bali and at this temple, they were the equivalent of 30USD. But I had to get one. And really cool pants. And a sash that matched the sarong. That was the theme of our stay in Bali. It was a fun several days, that included me learning to ride a motor bike from the top of a cliff (only one way to go… down), but it was definitely time to leave, heading to Hong Kong.<br />
I have no proof I was ever in Hong Kong. I didn't get a passport stamp, instead I just got a slip of paper inserted into my passport that was removed upon departure. I took almost no pictures either time, and I didn't even buy any fabric. But I did go… twice, and both times were incredibly filling.<br />
Seoul was our final stop before heading back to the US. I did manage to pick up a piece of fabric from Seoul, the fish fabric.<br />
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I went to the quilt shop a few weeks ago to get my backing before shipping the quilt off to be quilted. When I opened it up, the ladies in the shop started asking me questions. In that conversation, I realized that in the near year that I've been back in SC, I've grown shorter in my responses to questions about YAGM or Malaysia. I've learned to pleasantly describe my experience in SE Asia in a neat, nondescript sentence or two. Unfortunately for my sanity, this is often the end of the conversation, and we move on. But with my quilt laying out raw on the cutting table, I shared a little bit more than I usually do, and it was eagerly listened to. So I shared more. It was so wonderfully filling to have a medium for sharing stories I hadn't verbalized maybe since I've been back in America. Laying it all out there- beautiful stories as well as weird/disgusting/unsettling ones, are all parts of what make up my personal story as a YAGM. Would this quilt be more aesthetically pleasing if I had left out the Minions, maybe gone with some sort of color scheme, maybe even used fabric that was all the same weight and texture? Maybe. But it wouldn't tell the whole story, and it certainly wouldn't be my story. The minions, the rough pieces, the hard to work with patches (you can see I'm talking about more than just fabric here) are all necessary to understand the story in its fullest form. <br />
We all have our quilts- the stories of our lives that have molded and shaped us, that have challenged us and brought us great joy. And maybe we are the only ones who will ever fully understand who we are through our stories, but we have chances to take ownership of the stories that have molded us. And hopefully through recognizing the complexity of our own stories, we can recognize and appreciate with grace the beautifully messy stories we encounter each day. <br />
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Name your pieces, even the ones that are ugly. Find your table, find people who are eager to listen. Lay it out there, raw and unfinished. Laugh and cry when you need to. Be unapologetic in claiming your story.<br />
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Listen to the stories. Be ever aware of people who are seeking ears to listen. Ask good questions. Appreciate the journey. Know that it is not your story, not your journey, but one that you have the privilege of knowing pieces and patches of. Be open to recognizing beauty.<br />
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Share the stories. Never stop sharing the stories. Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-67189317597278584762015-02-08T18:26:00.000-08:002015-02-08T18:26:02.997-08:00Pau Part 2I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!! As I've shared, pau was one of my favorite things. I ate it almost every morning for breakfast, to the point that my fellow kindergarten teachers got concerned that I ate it so much. My love of pau was kind of a joke around school. These little steamed buns can be filled with anything. My favorite ones were sweet, filled with red bean paste. So today, I set out for the second time to recreate my favorite morning/anytime Malaysian treat. <br />
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I owe it all to 2 things/people:<br />
1. A kitchen scale. After last time's fiasco, I went out to Target and got an inexpensive kitchen scale (literally for the sole purpose of making pau). I realized that 500 grams of flour was not what my googling converted it to in cups.<br />
2. My pal, David. David is the one who gave me<a href="http://bakingproject.com/2013/01/15/steamed-filled-bun-pau/"> this recipe</a> in the first place and has offered advice as I navigate the really confusing world of pau. <br />
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And this time, it worked!<br />
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<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-68637062575309119042015-02-05T19:31:00.002-08:002015-02-05T19:31:24.815-08:00Grandma's Oatmeal Cookies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My grandma Derrick was serious when it came to all things baking. Between her pies, cookies, and bread, there's a lot I have to learn from. My mom just stumbled upon a stack of her recipe cards this week, which means I have some baking to do. I LOVED grandma's oatmeal cookies, and I may have loved the process of making them even more. Her secret trick was covering a glass with a wet handkerchief and pressing the dough flat. This meant going and getting one of Papa's handkerchiefs and using it to press the cookies down. One thing I like about this recipe is that the raisins are optional, so tonight I did half with and half without. </div>
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Grandma taught me the importance of sifting flour and properly measuring flour (fluffing it before you scoop, not packing it in). Also, greasing and flouring your pans as opposed to just greasing them makes ALL the difference. Seriously. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We aren't entirely sure who Aunt Jenny is (even my dad doesn't know), but this is Grandma's recipe card for her oatmeal cookies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tonight, there were no trips to Papa's drawer to get a handkerchief. Instead I just wet a lightweight towel covering the glass. </td></tr>
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<b>Grandma's ("Aunt Jenny") Oatmeal Cookies</b></div>
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1 cup crisco</div>
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1 tsp salt</div>
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1 tsp cinnamon</div>
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1 tsp allspice</div>
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add:</div>
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1/2 cup brown sugar</div>
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1/2 cup regular sugar</div>
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Beat until fluffy. Then add:</div>
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2 eggs, beaten</div>
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add:</div>
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2 cups oats</div>
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1/2 cup rasins (optional)</div>
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1 cup chopped pecans (optional)</div>
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Mix 1 1/2 tsp baking soda into 3 cups sifted flour.</div>
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Add alternatively with 1/4 milk, ending with flour.</div>
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Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Scoop 1 tsp scoops onto greased and floured baking sheet. Cover juice glass with damp handkerchief, and press flat. Bake 10-12 minutes. </div>
<br /><br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-1275747216793957872015-02-05T19:11:00.000-08:002015-02-05T19:11:52.528-08:00Chicken Rice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This was quite the undertaking, but one recipe I've been wanting to try since I returned. Chicken rice was a staple in my diet. Depending on the ethnic origin, each chicken rice shop had its own unique take on this dish. It is a "simple"meal, but it actually takes a good bit of work to achieve the final product. Today seemed like a good day for such an undertaking; I needed a project. Shockingly, I only had to buy a few ingredients. So after a run to my two favorite places: the grocery store and world market (you can't have chicken rice without the right dishes), I was ready to go.</div>
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I started with the chicken. The recipe called for Chinese 5 spice, but this is not one of my favorite flavors so I left it out. I combined soy sauce, ginger, honey and pepper and rubbed it on the chicken, letting it sit to marinate for awhile. Once the chicken went in the oven, I started on the rice. I told y'all I got a rice cooker for my birthday- LOVE IT. I put a little oil in the bottom and threw in some garlic and ginger, stirring for about 2 minutes. Then I stirred in the washed rice and chicken stock. Good to go!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ebAXqX0yyjsvPsmnsMB2xApjLthyPuNGSxMUrFT8HhThyuAfqxXRfV6hPtS-2IdxP5GIgbIKEIUrsyLMvnqP8pqrCzKcXNtFdtdEUmphI3znARPdxrAcAkFfSQqoNFNFdtFgGqS4BRU/s1600/DSC_0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ebAXqX0yyjsvPsmnsMB2xApjLthyPuNGSxMUrFT8HhThyuAfqxXRfV6hPtS-2IdxP5GIgbIKEIUrsyLMvnqP8pqrCzKcXNtFdtdEUmphI3znARPdxrAcAkFfSQqoNFNFdtFgGqS4BRU/s1600/DSC_0002.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chili padi is a staple, especially when you're eating chicken rice. I had a recipe, so I figured, why not give it a try? Into a blender went garlic, ginger, lime juice, red chilies, sugar, salt, and chicken stock. I cried a little bit when I opened the blender- both from the joy that I had made my own chili padi, but also the chilies were a wee bit stronger than I expected.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFaYlPG6VyhIJkbHYZ0546k0ACzIPp6GfSYpglIdEPjv2GadtiRig7ds9YGYymUe6MvoTWEraj4InZubF7VNw90oOYMPGmMpJdAvqzNV0W5GSJAaqLSgMuKT1MjcRGCRLD5E9_kdOEn8/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFaYlPG6VyhIJkbHYZ0546k0ACzIPp6GfSYpglIdEPjv2GadtiRig7ds9YGYymUe6MvoTWEraj4InZubF7VNw90oOYMPGmMpJdAvqzNV0W5GSJAaqLSgMuKT1MjcRGCRLD5E9_kdOEn8/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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In the mean time, I combined some chicken stock with watercress and a bit of salt for the soup served on the side of chicken rice. </div>
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Finally, the chicken was done. In Malaysia, you just chop through the whole chicken, getting skin, meat, and some bone surprises in each piece. Tonight, I decided that was definitely the way to go after trying to carve the chicken in a graceful way. We got some mangled chicken pieces here in the Derrick house. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitF58G2VjHqEU9pLe6mUFP3-E1_RmgUGdDDunzPLj4TMC5vfW7SR7bMHDMS8FWtUvzFhu-TBr2HsDzDoIgGA713pnKY3m3uMIojsugtU-_P0O0PbIyCyHMDsDl7YbhyphenhyphenPYPtQALMHGTyME/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitF58G2VjHqEU9pLe6mUFP3-E1_RmgUGdDDunzPLj4TMC5vfW7SR7bMHDMS8FWtUvzFhu-TBr2HsDzDoIgGA713pnKY3m3uMIojsugtU-_P0O0PbIyCyHMDsDl7YbhyphenhyphenPYPtQALMHGTyME/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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The final product! Notice the festive dinnerware :) I feel really accomplished over here, although it just wasn't the same (but I feel like that will be a common theme as I work on these recipes.) To my Malaysia friends: the chicken seemed to be missing a flavor, but I can't figure out what it was. I'd love some feedback on how to adjust this recipe for the future!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pAHCGtXCFpO7mAeqD-KlajT95Q2yUxR8eKf2icXR24HVlM_RR22kwiRbmnmDggwt2hL2iKw3V9C4-yklpKgTEhcpY_gWK3eara4kl9x-nqQhHkLVgloEqcf-QeJ-dQg_TvQFfiiI_q8/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pAHCGtXCFpO7mAeqD-KlajT95Q2yUxR8eKf2icXR24HVlM_RR22kwiRbmnmDggwt2hL2iKw3V9C4-yklpKgTEhcpY_gWK3eara4kl9x-nqQhHkLVgloEqcf-QeJ-dQg_TvQFfiiI_q8/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here's the recipe, compliments of one of my cookbooks from Malaysia:</div>
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<b>Hainanese Chicken Rice</b> (Hainanese is one of the dialect/ethnic Chinese groups… not only to the different groups have different language dialects, they each have their own unique recipes, too)</div>
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1 whole chicken</div>
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1 TBSP ginger juice</div>
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1 TBSP soy sauce</div>
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2 tsp honey</div>
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1 tsp salt</div>
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1/2 tsp white pepper</div>
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1/2 tsp five spice powder</div>
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6 cups chicken stock</div>
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1-2 baby cucumbers</div>
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2 sprigs cilantro for garnish (I omitted this too. I do not love cilantro.)</div>
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Rice</div>
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2 cups long-grain rice</div>
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1 1/2 TBSP oil</div>
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3/4 in ginger, peeled and sliced</div>
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4 cloves garlic, minced</div>
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1/2 tsp salt</div>
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Soup</div>
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2 cups watercress </div>
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1/2 tsp salt</div>
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1/4 tsp pepper</div>
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Combine ginger juice, soy sauce, honey, salt and pepper and five spice powder, the coat chicken in mixture and set aside for 20 min. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Place chicken in roasting pan and put into oven for 20 min. Reduce heat to 350 degrees F and roast for 30-40 min until skin is brown and crisp. Remove from oven and let rest 15 minutes, then cut into serving portions.</div>
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While chicken is roasting, cook the rice. Rinse and drain rice. Heat oil in rice cooker and stir-fry garlic and ginger until golden brown. Add rice and stir-fry for 3-4 minutes. Add salt and 2 1/3 cups chicken stock. Cover and let cook.</div>
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While rice is cooking prepare the soup. Heat remaining chicken stock and add watercress, salt and pepper. </div>
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To serve:</div>
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Place cucumber as a bed for chicken, serve with rice, soup, and chili padi or soy sauce on the side.</div>
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<b>Chicken Rice Chili Sauce </b></div>
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4 red finger-length chilies</div>
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2 cloves garlic</div>
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1 1/4 in ginger, peeled and sliced</div>
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1 1/2 TBSP lime juice </div>
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1 TBSP sugar</div>
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1/2 tsp salt</div>
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5 TBSP chicken stock or water</div>
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Grind ingredients together in mortar or blender. </div>
Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-25524690753798016782015-01-08T12:36:00.000-08:002015-01-08T12:36:08.864-08:00Pau Part 1Pau was my jam in Malaysia. Never could a bad day not be turned around with this little piece of steamed bun heaven. My morning routine almost always involved stopping by Lotus Restaurant on the corner of my street and the main road on my morning walk to school. 1 red bean pau cost me RM1.07, I believe. The best .30 US I think I have ever spent. Lotus caught a lot of my business this past year. I bought pau in the mornings and dumplings in the evenings... talk about delicious. But I'm getting ahead of myself. <br />
If there is one food that is very clearly missing in my life these days, it is pau. So, I sent my friend David a message on Whatsapp asking him for a pau recipe. He responded with one and gave me lots of pointers. David literally always knows the answers to my questions and it rocks. Today, I set out on an adventure to the Asian market and asked for pau flour. I got a huge bag along with a can of red bean paste and could not wait to get home and get to work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsV5cay2Jjw2v9D1IeHq_pyfAHd7GRfggMFaNd2LweOHwT6QvzmwctZMlQuwkMwuZiqPd1ovmKuTbAPZfuDEhwVI_3ijUSzVbZ4hn0o7lqJz1oeOg5-64F2wtO40NpsZWnfrUl4oeplfI/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsV5cay2Jjw2v9D1IeHq_pyfAHd7GRfggMFaNd2LweOHwT6QvzmwctZMlQuwkMwuZiqPd1ovmKuTbAPZfuDEhwVI_3ijUSzVbZ4hn0o7lqJz1oeOg5-64F2wtO40NpsZWnfrUl4oeplfI/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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I've been making some purchases recently, including this bamboo steamer and those bowls. And those are two of my cookbooks that made the long journey around the world. Seriously, how can you not love Asia?? If for nothing else, all the cool cooking equipment. </div>
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So I got to work. However, I quickly realized that this was not going to end well for 2 reasons: 1. The recipe is in grams and I do not have a kitchen scale... yet. 2. It called for caster sugar. No idea what that was, but regular sugar will work just fine, right?? I got all my dry ingredients into the mixing bowl, using approximate conversions from grams to cups.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8ueQCUnROmenFJEsqB7ZUJI39sP3PTo0nEFI0YbOfIGt0WJbor8yUpdiYuKe8Pv_UzG0ApTFPXNBi56r08pu_BISJJuTMQKioMte2OZopwXkC9SVRePxEZ60Z99-kRexFXA-x4hZ9_w/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8ueQCUnROmenFJEsqB7ZUJI39sP3PTo0nEFI0YbOfIGt0WJbor8yUpdiYuKe8Pv_UzG0ApTFPXNBi56r08pu_BISJJuTMQKioMte2OZopwXkC9SVRePxEZ60Z99-kRexFXA-x4hZ9_w/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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I started mixing and poured in the water. What ensued was a clear sign that I would not be eating pau anytime soon. I had soup. I threw in some more flour, waited for it to come together, but alas it never did. (For reference, this is supposed to be dough... like bread dough)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUcBBLmphsQEsYiRqUUtmJi6T2YK4RqVNIPJLnZEv_mb2RcN09GtMUGS4AtKQVwm_CrdjV395njAmWumvRqJqBIrUjiK788DnfgIDvItrM8wtr40Oq9eb07q9VUApEC_-qUp0nmwOPiA/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUcBBLmphsQEsYiRqUUtmJi6T2YK4RqVNIPJLnZEv_mb2RcN09GtMUGS4AtKQVwm_CrdjV395njAmWumvRqJqBIrUjiK788DnfgIDvItrM8wtr40Oq9eb07q9VUApEC_-qUp0nmwOPiA/s1600/unnamed.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Lesson learned: Use the actual ingredients called for. Buy a kitchen scale.</div>
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I tried! And I'm sure with some adjustments I will have pau the next time. Special thanks to David for providing me with the recipe and being my coach from afar! </div>
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Stay tuned, friends. This will happen. </div>
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Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-44164779087877464642015-01-04T08:06:00.000-08:002015-01-04T08:11:49.231-08:00Kita Makan!My YAGM, PC, and Lutheridge pal Daniel recently told me that the Malaysian restaurant in Greenville, SC is owned by a couple from Sabah (my state in Malaysia). I had been to this restaurant once before with my sister, but saw no signs of any Malaysians. So, we had to go back. I was visiting my sister in Greenville this past week and my only request was to go to YAP! again. We sat down, ordered and I was on the prowl for the owners. In my mind, I had this whole scenario worked out that after a long conversation in Malay, they'd invite me back into the kitchen and teach me how to cook everything I've ever wanted to know how to make. Dream big, right?<br />
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Well this man sitting at the front of the restaurant was being so loud about how he had been to Malaysia once and this was kind of authentic, but not at all what he experienced. He proceeded to pass along this critique to the woman who checked him out, and she asked him if he had ever been to Sabah and KK, because that's where she was from. (He hadn't. Bless his heart.) Y'all. This was her! Not only was she from my state but she was from my city! I was freaking out. This was my in. I was staring her down and as she walked by our table I quickly blurted out, "You're from KK?! I lived there this past year!!!" The conversation that ensued was pretty anticlimactic. It was short, we exchanged where we lived in the city, we talked about missing the fruit in Malaysia, and she went on her way. 1. I didn't get asked back to the kitchen. 2. All my memory of Malay went out the window in this 30 second exchange. I left feeling full of delicious mee goreng, but slightly defeated.</div>
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If you know me, you know I love to cook. It is both a simple joy but also a pretty great coping mechanism. Senior year exam week, my townhouse was erupting with cookies, bread, and cakes. This past year, I picked up cookbooks and a few aprons along my journey. I have looked through my cookbooks, but have been far too intimidated to really try anything out of them. Anytime I asked one of my Malaysian friends or coworkers to teach me to cook something, they'd respond with "It's so simple!" And that was that. So I enjoyed lots of food this past year, but didn't ever learn how to make any of it. </div>
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And that is where we pick up today. I have this blog that holds lots of stories and lessons from this past year, and now I'll take you through my adventures in the kitchen as I try to recreate some of my favorite meals from Southeast Asia. </div>
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I've located the nearest Asian market. I have my wok and my rice cooker. And I have cookbooks covering all things dumplings, to Chinese feasts and festivals, to Malaysian hawker stall favorites, to traditional Thai cuisine. </div>
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Here we go, people! Kita makan! Let's eat!</div>
Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-72313390102359662462014-11-02T17:31:00.000-08:002014-11-02T17:31:42.489-08:00Celebrating the Saints
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November 2, 2014</div>
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Emmanuel Lutheran Church</div>
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All Saints Sunday</div>
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Matthew 5:1-12</div>
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Good morning! For those of you who I haven’t had the chance
to meet yet, I am Pastor John’s daughter, Sarah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am “the one who was away for the year”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am here today to share a little
bit about what I was doing in Malaysia, how I ended up there, and to share with
you how I see today’s celebration of All Saints Sunday through the lens of this
past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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To start off, let me tell you a little background on the
program I was a part of this past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I served as a missionary in Malaysia through the Lutheran church’s Young
Adults in Global Mission (or YAGM) program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The YAGM program accepts young adults, ages 21-29 for a one
year transformational journey to learn from and walk alongside our global
partners in faith around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This year, there are 8 countries of service: Mexico, Argentina/Uruguay,
United Kingdom, Hungary, Jerusalem/West Bank, Rwanda, Madagascar, and South
Africa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll notice I didn’t
list Malaysia in that group, and you heard correctly; this year there are no
YAGM participants in Malaysia due to difficulties in obtaining visas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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As a part of the YAGM program, participants are asked to
raise approximately $4,000 to go toward the $11,000 total it costs to support
one YAGM for one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so
thankful to be speaking to you today as a missionary who was supported by all
of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You helped make this year
possible for me and for my fellow YAGM by supporting me in many ways,
especially financially.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To have
this family who I only recently met upon my return step forward to support a
girl they had never met means more to me than I can express, so I want to make
sure you all leave today knowing how truly grateful I am for each of you, for
your love, prayers, communication, and financial support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The ELCA practices a model of
mission called “accompaniment”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This means that missionaries are present as much to learn as they are to
teach, that there is a mutual companionship among the ELCA and global partner
churches, and that missionaries are not alone in their work, that they are
connected and supported through the ELCA and it’s companions worldwide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church I was affiliated with while
in Malaysia was the Basal Christian Church of Malaysia (BCCM), a member of the
Lutheran World Federation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as
an aside, today, according to my BCCM calendar that I am still using, is
“Mission Sunday” in the BCCM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
our brothers and sisters in Malaysia are celebrating their role in God’s
Mission today, and for that we also give thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YAGM are placed in communities and given site placements to
live and work alongside our partners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was living in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you know of the island of Borneo, that was my home this past
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, it was hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had 2 site placements, in the
mornings I worked at a BCCM kindergarten and in the afternoons, I worked at
Sabah Cheshire Home, a non-governmental non-profit organization that serves as
a home for adults with disabilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I lived a few blocks from my school and church with my landlady Mrs.
Soong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
I think the best way for me to
describe the culture of Malaysia to you would be just a look at an average day
for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lived in a mostly
Chinese Buddhist neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
walked to kindergarten, a Christian Chinese mission school, and went from
kindergarten to Cheshire Home, where I worked with mostly Muslim women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just in my three main hubs, there was
so much diversity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I took the
bus into town, I passed 1 Chinese Buddhist pagoda, 2 Christian churches, and 1
Islamic mosque.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you want to
talk about food, which I could tell you about for days, there was cultural
representation of Chinese, Indian, Thai, and indigenous in any given shopping
area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethnically and religiously,
Malaysia is incredibly diverse, and this diversity is a normal reality of
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For any holiday, you could
find a host inviting their friends of other religions or ethnicities to
experience a celebration that is so sacred to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beauty of diversity is a lesson I will be forever
grateful for from Malaysia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
So now you have a little
background on the YAGM program, where I was this year, and Malaysian
culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could talk about any of
these for much longer, but for the sake of trying to beat my dad’s record, I’ll
move on to the celebration for which we are gathered today: All Saint’s
Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason we celebrate
All Saints Sunday is to remember those members of the church universal who have
gone before us, who have impacted our life and faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On this day, we think of those who have passed from this
earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remembering people like my
Grandma Derrick, who in her life taught me everything from how to make the
perfect peach pie to who to read “Go, Dog, Go!” until I was tired of it (which
was never)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be silly to
think that Grandma’s lessons taught in the kitchen and on the couch didn’t lead
me to appreciate and seek to love, know, and serve those I encounter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely, Grandma’s life of service in
many ways influenced the course my life has taken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
But, I would like to broaden this
celebration to anyone, even the living saints, to celebrate those in our lives,
present and past, who have lead us into a greater understanding of who Jesus is
through who they were or are on this earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The “cloud of witnesses” that Paul talks about in Hebrews
includes those past, present, and those who are yet to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God works in our lives through a
network of people so great that we may not even recognize it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this past year alone, I am aware of
the saints of this and other churches who supported me, family, professors, and
coworkers who lead me to discern YAGM as a call by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I am aware of countless saints I
encountered while in Malaysia who very literally helped me survive at
times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there are so many more
who I am unaware of, people who God has worked through to guide, correct, and
teach me more of who God is and who God is calling me to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
I mentioned my landlady earlier, Mrs.
Soong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Soong is a saint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
This year started off really hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a sense, I was mourning- mourning
the loss of a lot that was familiar and comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was away from my family and friends, I had a language
barrier in many but not all places, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do
at work or how to ask for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One evening, I came home and didn’t have much to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sat with Mrs. Soong while she
watched the news in Chinese, and she translated for me, telling me what was
happening in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Soong
had a serious intuition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hardly
ever had to tell her what I was feeling or experiencing, she always just seemed
to know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had spent that day
sitting and observing in my kindergarten class, and then had spent most of my
afternoon with one particular resident at Cheshire Home throwing a balloon back
and forth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t done
much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we sat watching TV,
eating crackers, Mrs. Soong looked at me and said, “You’ll get busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for now, I’m really happy to have
you here with me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that moment,
I felt understood, recognized and cared for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feelings I didn’t even know I was seeking at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Blessed
are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
True to Mrs. Soong’s promise, I
got busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>December was a wild
month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had non-stop Christmas
caroling and Christmas parties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
of course, as tends to happen when you’re going, going, going, I got sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we want to talk about unpleasant
things, I’d put having a fever in a tropical country on that list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke up and was very aware very
quickly that I was not feeling well at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m sick, I cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s an unfortunate reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I walked downstairs crying, and Mrs. Soong emerged from the
kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through tears, I told her
I was sick, and she said, “Hey! Don’t cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love you!” she sent me up to my bed, and kept porridge and
water coming to my room until my fever went away and I was well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was on the opposite side of the
world from my original home of Lexington, SC, I learned in that moment that I
have a home in Malaysia, and I have a grandma who loves me and will take care
of me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
Like most parts about life in
Malaysia, I could talk about Mrs. Soong for days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what I want you to know most about her is that she
showed me a clearer picture of who Jesus is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if you caught this earlier, but Mrs. Soong was
only my landlady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only
responsibilities she had were to provide me with a place to stay and to address
any problems that arose within the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But she did much more than that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She comforted me, fed me, talked with me, drove me to church… she showed
me incredible hospitality, treating me as family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
Today’s Gospel reading is
familiar to us as “The Beatitudes”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The beatitudes recognize the weak, the suffering, and the poor in spirit
and give hope to the brokenness in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the beatitudes also serve as a charge to the
saints.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
It is the saints who comfort us
when we mourn, who give us a clearer picture of the kingdom of heaven when we
are lacking in spirit, who demonstrate righteousness and mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The saints show us who God is by
actively demonstrating the love and grace of God through their everyday
lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They teach us but they also
empower us to go and do likewise in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I would come home feeling empty, spending time with
Mrs. Soong left me renewed and ready to enter back into a hectic day at school
or challenging day at Cheshire Home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because of Mrs. Soong’s love and hospitality, I feel more empowered and
driven to practice love and hospitality to those I encounter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
The Beatitudes teach us about the
kingdom of heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Filled with
grace, God’s blessing is to those who we would least expect, and God’s promise
is to use the least likely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
year, I was wrapped in prayer and support by family, friends and church
families- some who I will never meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was welcomed, cared for, and comforted by new friends, newfound
family, and new church families in Malaysia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout the year I was both teaching and learning,
helping when I could and being helped more than I expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This, friends, is a look into the
kingdom of heaven- God using the most unexpected of people in the most
unexpected of places to reveal God’s self in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
Today, I remember Mrs. Soong as
one among countless saints.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we
give thanks for the work of all the saints in this church, in our lives, and in
this world- those who teach us how to live as Christ calls us and charge us to
go into the world to do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 11.6pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-33214102122775908432014-08-27T20:25:00.000-07:002014-08-27T20:25:57.950-07:00Finding WordsI haven't looked at my pictures since I got home. I had this realization tonight as I confronted the fact over yogurt with my cousin, that I have been avoiding thinking too much about Malaysia, about this year, since I've been home. Yes, I have been answering the surface, general questions I am asked in passing, and even realized on certain occasions that there are holes in my life now, things that are missing. But, I haven't thought long and hard about the day-to-day year of my life that just happened. I think it is my defense mechanism, to divert my attention rather than to face a lot of feelings that come with transitions, with saying "goodbye".<br />
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I have found on many occasions in the past 6 weeks, that I am deeply unsettled by events and words I encounter. I can't always name why, and that frustrates me. Reentering groups of people, finding that a year of life hasn't just happened for me, but for everyone, has brought with it simultaneous excitement and anxiety. <br />
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In a word: life is gray. And I don't mean gray in the sense of gloomy, but I mean gray in that it isn't black or white. It isn't only joyful or only sad. It isn't only calm or only anxious. Yes, this applies to my life right now, but one thing I have learned this year is that life is gray. Simultaneously, positive and negative exist, and we cannot always separate the two. Who remembers these sweet things that were trendy in the 90's?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8u_-sPJb3nxiY6SQxQGOWY-onxX1DA7CBwalfdOu5QDhzsFSJp4xr4nNq0lUEMYA_cjCJhBz188562d3_V5T23aoESDQT-tQTl-GLweDiQ88lkAly_mYF4E1p5lPMa9lf6bznFWQXzA/s1600/yinyang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8u_-sPJb3nxiY6SQxQGOWY-onxX1DA7CBwalfdOu5QDhzsFSJp4xr4nNq0lUEMYA_cjCJhBz188562d3_V5T23aoESDQT-tQTl-GLweDiQ88lkAly_mYF4E1p5lPMa9lf6bznFWQXzA/s1600/yinyang.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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The yin yang is pretty good description of how I see life right now. Used in Buddhism, it describes light and dark, existing together, sometimes even within the other. Our YAGM group had the chance to learn some history and practices of Chinese religion while we were in Hong Kong for one of our country retreats, and this is a lesson that has stuck with me since. In our world and in our lives, there exists both great joy and great sadness, together. Am I happy to be back with my family and friends in America? Of course. But at the same time, I absolutely miss the life I had come to know and love in Malaysia. Both feelings exist together, at the same time. <br />
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Looking back at how certain words have unsettled me since being back, I think it is because we are oversimplifying life. We are quickly characterizing and categorizing as only "good" or "bad", and not giving space to acknowledge the presence of both. I don't miss Malaysia because it was an ideal, happy-go-lucky land of joy. I miss it because I lived in the joy and the pain at once, because it was a real year of gray life. Looking at life as gray, I think, slows our desire to jump to generalizations, grants our desire to give and accept grace, and to love more freely. <br />
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Tonight, I looked through my pictures. I saw the faces of my family, my friends, my students. I felt extreme gratitude and extreme pain. And that is where I'm at.<br />
<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-66394981021501607262014-06-23T02:29:00.001-07:002014-06-23T02:29:33.947-07:00DiversityI miss the call to prayer. I miss the beautiful sound of singing, calling believers to prayer finding me throughout Malaysia. It took some getting used to, I won't lie. Especially when I found myself spending the night especially close to a mosque, the morning call would wake me up at times. But, I grew to find a lot of peace in the constant reminder to pray. Even if not from "my" religion, I found at times the call to prayer would remind me that I too, was in need of prayer. <div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp5m0jm46zJf7uW3jfPbbqgqfAobn4hFzk6EQKIdo6RFNU3Xmy4__O038il6OIHBIni9fkdrdqiB34HM-Hhe9Ym20EoqMKAowiYk4k8LqUZ43iYiMFjZR8wjB0Qig9SFLw1DlyTIvxZo/s1600/DSC_0249.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp5m0jm46zJf7uW3jfPbbqgqfAobn4hFzk6EQKIdo6RFNU3Xmy4__O038il6OIHBIni9fkdrdqiB34HM-Hhe9Ym20EoqMKAowiYk4k8LqUZ43iYiMFjZR8wjB0Qig9SFLw1DlyTIvxZo/s1600/DSC_0249.MOV" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun Fact: I learned this year that the call to prayer is not a recording. In each mosque, there is a person chanting the call to prayer 5 times a day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Halal, the regulations Muslims had on their diet (similar to "kosher" for Jews) became something I grew accustomed to observing by default. "Serve no pork" signs were in the windows of many shops in Malaysia. Though many Chinese shops served pork, the majority of restaurants I ate at and products I bought in grocery stores were Halal. Malay food, often called "Makanan Islam" might be some of the most delicious food I've had. (I could write a blog on the food I miss from Malaysia... but I digress.)</div>
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Temples, mosques, and churches weren't uncommon. As I took the bus into town, I would pass Chinese Buddhist pagodas and temples, a few mosques, and the BCCM KK church as well as the Anglican church. All together, sprinkled throughout town. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZb0noi-fz6oGUQ-wiTMmLp3PYUNDtGOvTmG5PPms5XX55OsqhAq03iyEVBSEkKYofR8iY8X7b8FLQ85FDlDjrZjwuz_sqM_EKsaTyjUdbImNjeFbS0twEc7wrodvit_VVG88il-e86zg/s1600/DSC_0287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZb0noi-fz6oGUQ-wiTMmLp3PYUNDtGOvTmG5PPms5XX55OsqhAq03iyEVBSEkKYofR8iY8X7b8FLQ85FDlDjrZjwuz_sqM_EKsaTyjUdbImNjeFbS0twEc7wrodvit_VVG88il-e86zg/s1600/DSC_0287.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Buddhist Temple in Singapore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
When I found out I was serving in Malaysia, I had just finished my senior capstone on interfaith reconciliation. When I learned that Malaysia was as religiously diverse as it was, I was so excited to be a part of dialogues and interfaith efforts. Reflecting on this year, however, that intentional interaction didn't happen, or at least wasn't incredibly common where I was serving. However, what I did live among was interfaith cooperation. Religious diversity is a reality of life in Malaysia. People are genuinely friends with those of different faiths. For religious holidays, there were open houses where the host invited their friends of all faiths to be a part of the celebration. It doesn't scare people that a mosque is being built down the street, because they know Muslims... they have Muslim friends, therefore a mosque is a place of worship and not a threat. Granted, there are interfaith conflicts, especially within politics, but on the ground, people usually are friends and respect one another. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLO42ibYrOoy-uR1B_TjbqH8hBE67CP3knPBTzOxzCjRT4CkAkHMleBqt5ts0N1O9x_9zY1XBmuvtLSLeQ2E8F5sIidAYWgcZU678DqoFjflwb9xwJgRHoEAyAflTbig6Zk9-4a0bCHkg/s1600/DSC_0240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLO42ibYrOoy-uR1B_TjbqH8hBE67CP3knPBTzOxzCjRT4CkAkHMleBqt5ts0N1O9x_9zY1XBmuvtLSLeQ2E8F5sIidAYWgcZU678DqoFjflwb9xwJgRHoEAyAflTbig6Zk9-4a0bCHkg/s1600/DSC_0240.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kota Kinabalu City Mosque</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
Aside from the people (and the food), the diversity of life this year is what I will miss the most and is what I am more anxious to arrive back to in America. The pictures I have shared of mosques and temples or stories I have shared of interfaith experiences people have commented on as "beautiful" and "a wonderful experience". But I wonder what the reactions would be if these pictures I posted and stories I shared were from the US. It is my fear that the reaction wouldn't be as positive. Why is there such negativity associated with what is "different"? And why are "different" experiences only ok when they are far far away? I think the reason I have seen the temples and mosques, the orange robes of Buddhist monks and the hijabs worn by Muslim women as beautiful and exciting is because it is not a reality where I come from. People who are not Christian in the US have to down-play their faith. Muslim women have to get used to not wearing their hijab because of the harassment that comes with it. Towns put up fights when a mosque is built because the call to prayer violates "city noise ordinances". Festivals and ceremonies of Buddhism and Hinduism are seem as uncivilized. And all these feelings and actions are justified because we are "one nation under God." </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0u5xerj7cmqS55x2RtwDFB9nQpwDqA9qnnnPxQVnhnueU8aIZZGTZXwEROY9Oh1M9nlBDk2a7mvVvB7lq_pTFoU3IRqxLwNYgrhP5TuwyS7NYrOc_h4iT3AagSAEGvWqlbGKBAb5tyI/s1600/DSC_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0u5xerj7cmqS55x2RtwDFB9nQpwDqA9qnnnPxQVnhnueU8aIZZGTZXwEROY9Oh1M9nlBDk2a7mvVvB7lq_pTFoU3IRqxLwNYgrhP5TuwyS7NYrOc_h4iT3AagSAEGvWqlbGKBAb5tyI/s1600/DSC_0156.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Buddhist Temple in Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia</td></tr>
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This year has taught me that my faith is what calls me to be loving and welcoming to my neighbor, whoever that may be. My faith cannot justify discrimination, it just can't. The discomfort or even dislike I feel when in the presence of someone or something that is new or different is not a conviction of my faith, but a product of sin. And there have most definitely been times when I have had to work to overcome those feelings of discomfort, they aren't always natural responses. </div>
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It is my prayer that those living in the US, regardless of their faith, can be open with who they are, and loved and welcomed for it. It is my hope that one day, interfaith dialogue will be seen as unnecessary not because of ignorance but because of rich interfaith understanding and celebration. It is my dream that people of all faiths can be voices for one another, that faith will be something that unites and not divides. </div>
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I'm coming home, America, and I want to see change. </div>
Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-25058039192693519132014-06-08T08:13:00.000-07:002014-06-08T08:18:40.757-07:00BordersVisas, volunteer visas, tourist visas, immigration, border-runs...<br />
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These are all words that have become a pretty regular addition to my vocabulary this year. While serving in Malaysia, every 90 days our group had to leave the country so that we could be reissued a tourist visa upon reentry. Now I am in Thailand, and because I was issued a 30-day tourist visa when I arrived, I need to leave the country before Tuesday to avoid overstaying my visit, travel to a bordering country to obtain a volunteer visa from a Thai embassy, then travel back into Thailand to finish out my time of service. <br />
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While I've grown weirdly comfortable with the idea of traveling to renew a visa, I've also grown to feel a bit of anxiety when I'm in an airport these days. I had a huge fear of flying before this year, but I've flown so much that the fear of the actual airplane has subsided. I've noticed that the anxiety only occurs from the time I step into the airport until the time I clear immigration. Those men and women hold a lot of power, and even though there is nothing illegal about our travels, there is a certain anxiety that comes with knowing your fate of departing and reentering the country lies in someone else's hands. <br />
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I was supposed to leave today to go to Laos to obtain a volunteer visa. However, I LOVE to have a medical adventure and decided to come down with the flu instead. Seriously, who gets the flu in June?? Not the point. After a hospital visit yesterday and today, I received a medical letter to immigration requesting my stay be extended so that I can fully recover before I fly off to do visa business. <br />
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All these situations, as positive or negative as they have been, have been voluntary. I willingly entered into this year, and if anything, the color of my passport (or the fact that I have a passport at all) has made a lot of immigration situations a heck of a lot easier for me than they are for other people. I've felt conflicted many times this year about my anxieties surrounding immigration. The unsettledness I feel in an airport is certainly real, but I can easily remove myself from the situation if I needed to. There is a place that is safe for me to go back to. But what about the people who don't have that? What about the people whose reasons for crossing borders are completely different from mine? Today, I could receive a letter requesting permission to stay in a country because I have the flu, but what about people who are sick in a country but can't even receive the healthcare to know what is wrong with them?<br />
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Borders exist, and the movement between those borders is happening more and more. People are moving in and out of those borders for more reasons than we know. And I don't have answers to the ever-growing question of immigration. In the ways that immigration has consumed conversations and thoughts of mine at times this year, I cannot even begin to imagine the ways in which it affects those whose lives are so dependent on where they find themselves, and whose hands their documentation falls into. Tonight, I am especially mindful of those who are away from their home-country or who are stateless, as well as those who make the decisions regarding their fate. There is corruption in this world, but there are also beacons of light. And it is my prayer that the light can outshine any darkness. Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-20029328830012959022014-06-03T09:44:00.001-07:002014-06-03T09:44:19.084-07:00Camp.Let's flash back to my first experience at Lutheridge. No, it was not my first summer on staff as a counselor, but instead was the summer of 2001 I believe, when I was 9 years old. I went to camp with a friend the same week that my dad was taking his confirmation group up to camp for a week. I had a top bunk, my counselor's name was Courtney, and I was in Frye cabin in Pioneer A. I was excited, but as is a tendency in my life, I was a bit... or possibly extremely anxious. The entire week of camp I cried and cried. I made myself sick and did all that I could so that they would send me home because I did NOT want to be there. It wasn't that camp wasn't fun... I specifically remember enjoying the pool, going to crafts, and singing songs. I was just extremely homesick. I would like to take this opportunity to formally apologize to Courtney, wherever you may be... I had to have been the most difficult camper EVER. Bless your heart. But your efforts weren't for nothing. I like to think that you sewed some seeds that just took a little while to pop their heads up. I was so sure that my camping days we over at the conclusion of that week. <br />
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Let's fast forward to November of 2009. I was a freshman at Presbyterian College, and as I like to do, I was planning ahead for what my summer would look like. I had thought about working at a camp, but wasn't sure where to apply or how the whole "outdoors" thing would go for me. Despite all of this, something lead me to apply to Lutheridge. I had my interview (after being very concerned about how to look professional yet earthy), I was offered a position as a counselor for the summer, and off I headed to spend the summer of 2010 as a counselor. As we went through training, I was taught all sorts of procedures and techniques for all kinds of camper situations. As we talked about homesick campers, I had flashbacks to Courtney living all of those out. She was better than I realized. The real learning came from week to week, as I laughed, cried, was challenged, and grew from all I was experiencing. <br />
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My first summer at Lutheridge left me wanting more of what I had just experienced, so I returned for another summer as a counselor and the following summer on senior staff. Each summer brought with it stories of joy and stories of challenges, but absolutely every summer opened my eyes and lead me to places I did not see myself before the summer of 2010. Here are just a few ways my life was changed by my time at camp, lessons I learned, and why I believe it is such an important ministry of the church...<br />
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Absolutely my faith was significantly challenged and strengthened in my 3 summers on staff at Lutheridge. I was forced, in the most lovingly of ways, to rely on God and God's people as I navigated situations that I had absolutely no clue about. I learned the beauty and support that exists in community, the joy of celebrating in community and being able to be honest in your struggles. Some of my dearest friends I made while on staff. I learned to trust the tugs on your heart. Those 3 summers were huge as I discerned where God was calling me to be in this world. <br />
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I learned that the church is much, much bigger than my home congregation. There is a much greater body outside of what I knew in Lexington, South Carolina at work. For starters, I was exposed to other congregations, pastors, and members of congregations of the ELCA. I learned from their styles of ministry and grew in my understanding of what worship is, what "Lutheran" is, and how we are all connected as the Body of Christ. Another piece to this exposure was the realization of the ministries and opportunities that exist in our church. The ELCA is doing awesome things on community, state, national, and international levels. Outdoor ministry is one of the ways the church is in action, and I was loving my time there, so I became curious what else was out there. Through people I had worked on staff with, I heard about Young Adults in Global Mission. Through discernment (much of which came from talking with friends and fellow staff members from camp) I knew I wanted to engage with the global church and see what else there was to learn in this great network of Holy Spirit wonderfulness! And the rest is history...<br />
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Wether you're Lutheran, Presbyterian, Methodist... be a part of your greater church! There exists amazing opportunities to serve, learn, and grow! Parents, send your kids to a week of camp this summer. You never know where one week at camp may lead them.<br />
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And, as a personal plug, I think Lutheridge may just be the best option for your child: http://www.novusway.com/our-sites/lutheridge/Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-74859958909576233442014-05-08T02:54:00.001-07:002014-05-08T02:54:43.228-07:00A Day in the LifeHey there friends. I started this mission this morning complete with taking pictures and writing down times and activities... then somewhere around 10:30 I lost track of the details :) But, here is what my day looked like today.<br />
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6:05- Wake up, but press snooze<br />
6:25- Finally get out of bed and get ready for school<br />
6:50- Get picked up for school by Auntie Jenny who works in the office. I used to walk to school until about November, then rainy season started and Auntie Jenny offered to pick me up since I am on her route to school. Rainy season is LONG over, but she has been so kind to keep picking me up every morning.<br />
7:00- Arrive to school.<br />
7:10- Eat breakfast with Teacher Ginny and Teacher Leong. They are so sweet to alway feed me!<br />
7:15- Children start to arrive, walking in and greeting every teacher in the classroom. So this morning, "Good morning Teacher Ginny, good morning Teacher Leong, good morning Teacher Sarah." Children are dropped off and come straight to the classroom, so they play with toys until the day starts.<br />
7:45- The bell rings, children still gathering.<br />
8:00- Tidy up the toys and take a water break. It is so important to keep kids hydrated here, I mean, it is somewhere around 8789 degrees. All the kids come to school with a water bottle and we take breaks throughout the day to make sure they stay hydrated and healthy!<br />
8:10- Go to the toilet and line up for singing time<br />
8:15- Singing time. Recently, we have been practicing for the upcoming Praise Songs competition. Each class has a song they are learning and will have a school-wide competition in a few weeks. Teacher Ginny's class is singing "The B-I-B-L-E"!<br />
9:00- Today we had a birthday! The family of the birthday girl, Chloe came to school with a cake and treat bags for the children, so we sang "happy birthday", ate cake, and took pictures!<br />
9:45- A nurse came to fetch the children of Love 1 to get their teeth checked. I'll explain, because this is not an ordinary kindergarten activity :) The local hospital provides free teeth checks, cleanings, and<i> I think </i>fillings once a year. So today, I accompanied 7 of our kids to get their teeth checked out. They were so good! Hopefully they couldn't sense my fear of the dentist... I tried to keep it positive. The hospital came and converted our "TV Time" room into a small clinic and had chairs set up to see the children. Once we were finished, we thanked our new friends for cleaning our teeth and headed back to the classroom.<br />
10:50- Caught the 7 kids up on the work they missed while they were being brave tooth warriors... this included coloring and pre-writing activities.<br />
11:10- Took some pictures for mother's day and practiced our mother's day song! (Apparently mother's day is international... or at least observed in Malaysia)<br />
11:35- Packed up, final toilet break, and sang the "goodbye song".<br />
11:45- Bell rings, and parents pick up their children.<br />
12:30- Arrive at Cheshire Home and eat lunch. <br />
1:00- Malay and English class. The group I have been teaching is a part of Cheshire Home's economic empowerment program. We are partnered with Asian Tourism International College to offer a pastry skills certification course to adults with disabilities and single mothers, giving them a skill so that they can be employed in society. It is a really fantastic program. This batch all has hearing disabilities, so they have been wonderful enough to teach me some sign language and all around come up with fun ways to communicate. Today, we had our final assessment since I am leaving. From what I saw on the English papers, they did great! After they all finished, we took a final group photo :(<br />
2:00- Kunie, the most wonderful driver at Cheshire Home was kind enough to take me to run a few errands. I needed to get pictures printed for my children at school and for the bakery students I've been working with, so we drove all around Damai and found a photo printing place (that is located inside a garden shop... no wonder it was hard to find). I then picked up some milk and butter to make cookies with Mrs. Soong's granddaughters tonight.<br />
3:00- Returned to Cheshire, cleaned out my drawers at work, helped draft and edit a letter and presentation.<br />
4:00- Go out into the main living space of Cheshire to help with the patchwork. The staff has an ongoing project of a patchwork quilt. I have gotten to help with it some this year, and it is always a really good time to bond with the staff and residents who are around.<br />
4:45- Go home. Kunie, the wonderful driver of Cheshire Home, drives me home each afternoon.<br />
5:00- Walk down to the shops from my house to see if they have envelopes at the store that sells stationary. Unfortunately, it was closed. However, the trip wasn't a total loss. I stopped at the produce shop that is owned by the mother of one of our day care residents at Cheshire to see if they had any papaya slices, but they didn't. However, I got some watermelon, and she didn't make me pay. So sweet! So I walked home snacking on my free watermelon, and listening to the sounds of pianos and violins practicing from house to house. As I walked up to my house, I heard "Hey Teacher Sarah!!" from Jason who lives across the street. Jason was my student last year. <br />
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The rest of the day, I will make cookies with Mrs. Soong's granddaughters, eat porridge that Mrs. Soong made for dinner, and spend time with this wonderful family. Then, I'll probably be up late working on notes, packing and checking other last minute things off my list. This place is so wonderful. I can't believe I'm leaving so soon and leaving this place that feels so normal now, so much like home. <br />
This daily life has taught me a lot, challenged me more than I expected, and made me so thankful for the people and places God has lead me to. Prayers for closing goodbyes and celebrations in the next few days. Lots and lots of love from Malaysia.<br />
<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-91410552437691882232014-04-28T04:58:00.000-07:002014-04-28T04:58:25.055-07:00The Power of WordsLately, well maybe all year, I've been really aware of language. Language has proved to bring with it some of the biggest joys as well as some frustrations. It is a good feeling when you can effectively communicate something you're feeling, especially in another language. Languages surround me this year. While English is still a part of my daily life, so is Malay, Chinese, and now Malay Sign Language (not the same as American Sign Language). I'm learning all of these on some level, but am better at communicating in some more than others. <br />
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The power of positive language has really encouraged me this year. This past weekend we had an overnight outing with Cheshire Home. With 40ish people, there was a lot to do and prepare. I can be a little awkward at inserting myself into situations, but I really wanted to help the women with the cooking and food preparation for this big group. So I walked into the kitchen and asked if I could help. I did some chopping (which I am not good at making things a consistent size), but then I was given the spatulas to the wok. As I stirred the vegetables and added in sauces, one of our sweet cooks goes "Ah! Sarah pandai sudah!!" (Sarah is clever already) And I was then welcome to help prepare all weekend long. That is one example, but I have countless others... Mrs. Soong telling me she loves me when I was sick and crying in December, one of the sweet residents at Cheshire calling me "Auntie" everyday when I see her, hearing "Good morning Teacher Sarah" when students walk in the door. Words can make you feel so so good.<br />
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But language can also tear down and cause hurt. The words I am talking about are hurtful ones, ones that I feel forget that I am also human. The most hurtful language I have experienced this year has mostly surrounded race. I have been called "another species", I have been reminded that I am "so different" from everyone else, I have been told that all white people look the same, so it is hard to pick me out, just to name a few...<br />
While these independently may sound funny or absurd to you, or perhaps like things you have said to reference other races, even jokingly, after hearing them repeatedly and being on the receiving end, they really are not funny. They are very hurtful.<br />
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**(I feel the need to do a really big disclaimer here- This is not characteristic of the majority of people I interact with on a daily basis. Instead these are isolated incidents. However, let that show that even one or two people can have a profound impact on the way a person perceives themselves. Also, the feeling of being white here in Malaysia is something that I have wanted to talk about on a blog or in some way for awhile now. I would say that usually, I receive comments like "You're so beautiful", "Hi Miss, you're so pretty" if I am just walking down the street... which is endearing but also at times just makes me uncomfortable to constantly be a spectacle. So, the race comments I receive are across the spectrum, yet still have affected me this year.)<br />
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Statements, even if not ill-intended, that are made at the expense of another person really are so hurtful. On the flip side, be encouraging! If there is a way that you can build someone up, do it! To quote Kid President, "If you can't think of anything nice to say, you're not thinking hard enough."<br />
<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-1909311410684336112014-04-13T05:06:00.000-07:002014-04-13T05:09:07.178-07:00Lessons LearnedOne year ago, I attended the Discernment-Interview-Placement weekend for YAGM. In the year since, I have learned so much. I have learned about myself, the world, the church, people, God, and faith... just to name a few. Here is a small sampling of a list of all I have learned:<br />
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1. <b>Vulnerability</b>. Ask for help, admit when you're wrong, and be honest in your experiences. The ability to share freely these things as well as to rejoice together has resulted in some really deep and meaningful relationships this year. This is a lesson I am continuing to work on, but one that I am reminded of frequently.<br />
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2. <b>I am not needed.</b> My presence in this country and in my sites is not necessary to anyone's survival or well-being. I do not bring with me an invaluable skill to this year. I have had to realize that no one here "needs me". This was a hard lesson to learn. I expected to jump in and be put to work right away and be busy all year. But that just has not been the case. There are days when I do not have a lot to do, and my main "job" is to just be present, just existing alongside other people. While this may sound boring, like a waste of my time or skills, I have come to learn that it is just the opposite. I have learned that it is healthy that my presence here exists in this way. It is a good thing that no one is depending on me in a way that in my absence, things would fall apart. I have learned that as humans, we enter into a situation "to do". My mindset of "doing" has shifted into a mindset of "being". I have learned about myself from the discomfort I felt in the absence of "work" and I have learned more about people and life in community in the days where my "job" was to sit and listen, talk, or help with small tasks.<br />
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3. <b>People make up religions and denominations. </b>This year has been one of religious diversity. There is so much religious diversity in Malaysia. I interact with Christians, Muslims, and Buddhists daily. Even going into this year, Christianity has looked different than what I have been used to. The BCCM's theology and worship styles vary in some ways from the traditional Lutheran background I come from. There is common ground among denominations and even among other religions, but even if there are differences, the people behind the title of "Roman Catholic", "Methodist", "Anglican", "BCCM", "Muslim", "Buddhist" are all people. Their beliefs shape them into people of faith who above all else want to love and serve their god and their god's people. Having focused on the differences that separate especially Christian denominations in the past, this year has been a lesson on the value of the <i>people</i> of the church. I think when you know and appreciate the people you can appreciate and learn from their beliefs even more. <br />
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4. <b>I need structure.</b> Fun fact: I considered myself pretty go with the flow... then I came to Malaysia and realized I was delusional. Having no set "syllabus" on how to successfully complete this year was a scary realization. I will say that this desire for structure has not changed, but instead I have learned how to create some order on my own. I really value the routines I've established, which have made life a lot less overwhelming.<br />
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5. <b>I am not ______________.</b> Be it other YAGMs in Malaysia, YAGMs serving throughout the world, or the volunteers that came before me, there is a huge temptation to compare in this year. "I'm not as outgoing as _________." "I'm not as good at Malay as __________." "__________ did this but I haven't done that yet." "According to facebook, ________ is just having such a great life and today is really hard for me." I am Sarah, I have my own strengths and my own weaknesses. I have my own way of approaching this year. And I know deep down inside, that people only put the good stuff on facebook, that everyone has struggled in this year in some way. I'm thankful for the other volunteers serving this year as well as for the ones who have come before me because I am constantly reminded that this is not a one-woman show. This is a continued relationship, and I am a small small piece to a much greater and beautiful picture of companionship. The story neither starts nor ends with me, and each individual brings their own abilities to the table. <br />
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6. <b>There are a whole lot of people who have the love of God just seeping out of them</b>. Hospitality, caring for me when I'm sick, quality time, sharing food, smiles and encouraging words have all shown me God's love, faithfulness, and presence in this year. I could do a whole separate blog on the people in my life, but in short, I could not be more thankful for those whose paths I have crossed this year.<br />
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7.<b> Being comfortable with the unknown. </b> I entered into the YAGM process not knowing what country I would go to. I then agreed to come to Malaysia not knowing where I would live or what I would be doing. Then once the year started, there were transitions in leadership, changes in program plans, lots of change and lots of uncertainty. Being someone who apparently likes structure (see #3) this hasn't been easy for me. But, as the changes and questions of what's next arise, I have the past to remind me that God is faithful and that I can find peace in the midst of a lot of unknown.<br />
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There are more lessons, and I still continue to be challenged by the things I have named here. When I sat in that room at DIP in Williams Bay, Wisconsin last year, I didn't know what the year ahead held, but I was confident that I was being called to this place. I think God had and still has a lot for me to learn. Malaysia, you have taught me a lot, and I will continue to learn from you even after I leave. For that, I am so thankful.<br />
<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-62258529375659975302014-04-08T05:50:00.000-07:002014-04-08T05:58:02.363-07:00Sudah Makan?If I had to keep track of the most common Malay words and phrases I hear and use, this is at the top of that list by a lot. "Sudah" means "already" and "makan" means eat. When I get to Cheshire Home in the afternoons around 12:30, the first thing I hear is not "apa khabar?" or "how are you?" but instead "Sarah, sudah makan?" At this point in the day, the answer is not yet, or "belum". So, I head to eat lunch right away. I leave the office and walk through a breezeway where staff and residents are sitting to hear variations of, "Makan, Sarah!" Even as I enter the kitchen and grab my plate, I hear, "Sarah, makan!" At first, and even some days still I think to myself, clearly that is what I am doing, I am going to eat right now! I get my food and sit at the table with a mix of staff and some residents. Usually, we talk about what we are eating. "Makan ayam, Sarah!" (eat chicken, Sarah) "Sedap-can" (it is delicious- right?) "Manis" or "Masin" (sweet or salty) It shouldn't be a surprise, then that I am most confident in talking about food in Malay. <br />
So I eat my lunch, head back into the office to prepare to teach the language lesson for the day, then emerge around 2:00 back into the living space. Today for example, there was porridge made from green peas... so so delicious! "Makan bubur, Sarah!" So, I grabbed myself a bowl and ate some porridge. Around 4:00, I noticed a box of bananas, a bowl, and some flour, which can only mean one thing: pisang jamput jamput (that spelling is approximate as I have been told about 15 times what these things are called, only to butcher the word when I try to say it back) "pisang" is banana. The cooks at Cheshire know the way to my heart. There was a day when I was sitting in the office listening for the phones when one of the aunties came in to tell me that these little bites of banana heaven were waiting outside. So today, I pulled up a stool and started helping to peel bananas. "Saya boleh tolong!" or "I can help!"<br />
I find it easier to talk to people over food. Conversations begin with me naming foods I know, talking about how much I love them, but them slowly turn into more. While I don't always understand everything, sharing stories and emotions seems a lot more natural when you are communally peeling bananas. <br />
The question is never "kau lapar?" or "are you hungary?" but instead a more straightforward "sudah makan?", "have you eaten?" Sometimes I get asked this at like 3:00 in the afternoon, and I haven't quite figured out the appropriate response... Have I eaten? Recently? Not really. Is it meal time? Also no. Could I eat something right now? Maybe, whatcha got?? <br />
Tonight as I sat with Mrs. Soong, she asked me if I had eaten. I told her about the marathon eating that was today at Cheshire and that I wasn't really hungry for dinner. She still gave me a piece of cake and offered me some bread. <br />
Here, food is just tied to well-being. There is never a bad time to eat, and always, food can bring a group of people together. Sharing the food you are cooking is a language of love, and offering someone food is a way to show that you care. Showing love through food, there's a practice I can say I've gotten on board with. <br />
<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-42145348908811415492014-04-02T09:21:00.000-07:002014-04-02T09:21:47.690-07:00Updates!Maybe I haven't posted in awhile because I've been busier, or maybe its because things don't seem out of the ordinary as often. Either way, it has been awhile, and there has been lots going on!<br />
As far as work, I've been teaching at both of my sites these days. In kindergarten I am still assisting in two classes, and am finding myself planning and teaching more and more as time passes. At Cheshire Home, I've been teaching both English as well as attempting Malay (there is a big key word: attempt) to our bakery students, all of whom are deaf or have a hearing impairment in this batch. The biggest thing to work on with their Malay is sentence structure, because the way you sign something is not necessarily the way you write it. While I sometimes don't feel too adequate to teach Malay, I am really appreciative of people I work with who are helping to teach me and helping to teach the class. Also, I am learning sign language along the way, which is pretty exciting! (It is Malay sign language though, so I'll be interested to see how it compares to American sign language.) <br />
Speaking of teaching, I've also been working with Girl's Brigade (like our Girl Scouts in America) here in KK. The past few weeks, I have started teaching a first aid class to the girls to help them get a badge for the upcoming badge ceremony. Last weekend, I helped out with a Girl's Brigade camp on wetlands conservation and learned that KK is home to a pretty beautiful wetlands area! I'm hoping to do something "very American" with the girls before I leave to do a little cultural exchange, so if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear from you!<br />
So just work and other activities themselves have kept me busy. It is nice though to be involved and to learn about yourself, the things that are life-giving and the things that are not so much, what you are good at and where your "growing edges" may be. <br />
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There is a twist in the year that many of you may have learned of by now, but I did want to share here, too. I sent an email to those of you who receive my newsletter about YAGM Malaysia's end-of-service date. As you may have noticed, be it in my newsletters or through conversations with me or my family, immigration in Malaysia has been a frequent topic in this year's country group. Unfortunately, we have had volunteers as well as other ELCA personnel in the country flagged by immigration, which means they have either been asked to leave Malaysia for a certain amount of time to prove they are not working here or at least been called into the immigration office to talk with officials. <br />
*I will stop here and say 3 things: 1. We are not in any danger, nor are we breaking any laws in being here. We are not working in Malaysia/making Malaysian money nor are we here to convert people. Which brings me to number 2. This is not happening because we are Christian. Immigration policies and procedures are in a season of crack-down and we happen to be on the end of those more rigid procedures. (Does this sound like seasons of immigration crack-down in America? I think so.) 3. We are not getting kicked out of Malaysia. This is a YAGM/ELCA decision to conclude due to the uncertainty of the ability for our country group to successfully obtain visas through July. If you have any questions about this, please message me or email me. I would be happy to clarify or just talk about it further.* <br />
The length and complexity of what I just shared shows you that this isn't an easy situation. But, because of this complexity, the YAGM program/ELCA has decided for the YAGM Malaysia service period to conclude in May. It is hard and unforeseen news. Therefore, goodbye happenings are starting, closing travel and plans are in the works, and a lot of emotions are happening all at once. So, in May, our country group will travel to Thailand for our closing country retreat. From there, our group will spread out a bit. We have some volunteers traveling back towards the US, some volunteering in Indonesia, some in Hong Kong, and some in Thailand. I will be one of two volunteers in Bangkok, Thailand serving with a program similar to YAGM through the Presbyterian Church (USA). I will be there for about 5 weeks, then will make my way back to the US. I do not want to leave Malaysia in May, however, I am so thankful for the opportunities that have presented themselves to continue service in a new way. <br />
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Even though plans, mindsets, and realities of life right now are not at all what I expected or really desired, even though the program is ending early and there have been twists and turns of various kinds throughout this year, life is still so good. As I hope you get from the first part of this post, I am so happy right now. Though unexpected and uncontrollable program things have affected this year, they have not and will not negatively impact how I see the year right now nor how I will look back on it in the future. Much of the sadness in leaving early is simply because this year has been full of joy. Some days are really hard and some days are just wonderful, and that's life. And this year of life, I have learned so incredibly much and am thankful for so much.<br />
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Thank you for your continued prayers for the program, especially with the upcoming transition.<br />
Peace and Joy!Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-85135387617081848262014-03-08T01:18:00.002-08:002014-03-08T01:21:36.195-08:00Impressions: A Malaysian YAGM’s Parents Visit Their Daughter in ‘The Land Below the Wind’ <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a long-anticipated day-and-a-half
of enduring several, very long flights and fast, sometimes confusing transfers
through several countries’ security checkpoints, before we finally arrived in Kota
Kinabalu [‘KK’], Malaysia. Departing
from Charlotte, NC, early New Year’s Eve morning, it was one o’clock in the
morning, January 2, when we exited the last of three planes needed for the
journey. After going through
customs and immigration, we were greeted by our broadly smiling, wet-eyed
daughter, Sarah, who we hadn’t seen since she departed for Kota Kinabalu in
August, 2013.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sarah’s decision to participate in a
year-long experience “somewhere on the globe” was a little shocking for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Admittedly, when she was assigned to
Malaysia, we were a bit down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was so far away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth is, we had
to get the globe out and find out exactly how far away. When we finally found
it, we were even more nervous: it was half-way around the world! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could she go any further from home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t think so. And, in the dark of
night, after getting off a third plane from twenty-two hours of flying, we were
certain, she couldn’t be farther from home; and neither could we.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">First impressions are powerful ones. After
meeting so many supportive friends that our daughter has made in KK, our
parental anxieties completely vanished. The Lord has provided her so many
wonderful support resources in those she lives and works with, as well as
worships with weekly and fellowships regularly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was repeatedly affirmed by all who helped her host us
and introduce us to Malaysian cultures and cuisines. What truly impressed us were
people’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>multilingual proficiency
and their patience with our ability to only speak English. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Regardless of who we were talking or dining with, we were truly greeted by all with
great respect, affection, and hospitality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our two weeks’ adventures enjoyed many Malaysian
city sights, sounds, and tastes as well as those experienced in a piece of
Malaysia’s famous jungle area on the Katabatanagan River. It is a truly amazing
country and people which daily made us so thankful our daughter was led by the
Lord to embrace this great faith challenge. The carefully designed YAGM program has helped not only
Sarah grow deeper in her faith, but ours as well. We were so
proud to watch her interact with such confidence with those at her Kindergarten site and her Cheshire Home afternoon assignment
working with mentally and physically disabled adults. Seeing her speak Malay to transact
purchases, to order strange but delicious food, to navigate varieties of
transportation and her <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2812413873566243763" name="_GoBack"></a>thriving with such self-confidence
so far from home made us glad she came to us last year with the crazy notion of
spending a year with YAGM performing Christian service somewhere on God’s earth! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-8051019346021044422014-02-23T07:57:00.000-08:002014-02-23T07:57:24.274-08:00So Thankful.Have you noticed that my communication back home has increased exponentially this past week and a half? Or that I have been posting a lot of things from BuzzFeed? I've had a lot of time on my hands recently.<br />
Well, I didn't quit my sites here in Malaysia. As some of you know, I have been hanging out in KL following our retreat in Hong Kong due to a little infection that required a small stint in the hospital and eventually some minor surgery. Those who know me well may not be too surprised. I've had my fair share of strange medical situations. Nevertheless, being hospitalized in a foreign country was not on my bucket list for this year/ever. This post isn't really to tell you I was in the hospital, but to express how thankful I am for those who have accompanied me the past week and a half. <br />
First of all, I am incredibly thankful for my sweet, sweet YAGM family. Really, these people are saints. From lifting my spirits in the ER, to staying nights with me in the hospital with me, to ditching their waterfall day to literally just sit in a hospital room with me, I cannot even put into words how much their presence has meant to me. Y'all are peaches, and that's an understatement.<br />
As interesting as it was to experience cultural practices translated into the healthcare setting, I am thankful for the doctors and nurses who took lovely care of me. One of the highs of Malaysian hospital stays: Milo delivered 3 times a day. America, get it together. Also, my surgeon looked strikingly similar to Bob Ross, so there's that visual for you. (You know, that painter man on PBS. Google it.)<br />
The lovely couple of Chris and Becca Gamble, aka our country coordinator and his wife have opened up their house for me to recover. Truly such a blessing to have a home to come into to recover and not have to check into a hotel. <br />
My sweet family back home... bless them. I had regular phone calls to Aunt Ann getting her medical advice and phone calls to Jandy to update them on life. I feel like there were times when they were maybe more stressed about the situation than I was :)<br />
I am so thankful to have a family back in KK: supervisors, co-workers, friends, church peeps, Mrs. Soong and family to miss, check in with, have supporting me in prayer. I have missed them dearly the past 2 weeks and am so excited to say that I'LL BE HOME TUESDAY!<br />
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I continue to be amazed at the ways in which God is present in the midst of the weird, uncomfortable, and unknown of this year. Sometimes all you can have is faith.<br />
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So thankful. xoxoSarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-40112412845278742092014-02-06T05:12:00.000-08:002014-02-06T05:12:00.424-08:00Lessons on Lessons on LessonsThis year is full of learning, and this story involves lots of learning. <br />
At Cheshire Home, we have an economic empowerment program, a piece of which is our bakery classes. We take in new batches (get it? bakery... batches...) of individuals, either persons with disabilities or single mothers, each year and at the end of their training, they receive a pastry skills certificate and are able to enter the workforce. This new batch of bakery students are all people who are deaf or have hearing impairments. A piece of the YAGM's job each year has been to teach the bakery students english. When I was told about this a few weeks ago, I felt pretty intimidated. Teaching deaf, sign language students who know Malay, english sounded like a feat. I've been on the lookout for resources since this assignment, with some luck. I've been learning some sign language, trying to bridge the multiple language barriers as best as I can.<br />
This week, we have had a volunteer at Cheshire Home from Girl's Brigade, where I also spend some of my time. She has been awesome, and has jumped right in spending time with the residents and helping out where she is needed. We both have been learning sign language together from one of the bakery srudents, Haifez. Today, I needed to do an english assessment with Haifez to see what he knew already, to help me try to gauge where to begin. Both his Malay and English written assessments had some challenges. After I was finished, our volunteer asked for a piece of paper and said she was going to work on teaching Haifez English and Malay. I gave it to her, skeptical of what could be done spur of the moment and in one afternoon. I went into the office to continue my research on how to teach english to people who are deaf. I researched without much luck, and emerged from the office to find Haifez spelling through sign language and on paper colors, shapes, and question words in english. I was pretty impressed, as well as humbled. <br />
A lesson I've learned about myself this year is how badly I want to know what I am doing before I begin. New flash to myself and the rest of the world: I have absolutely no idea what I am doing this year. I can research all I want, I can try to plan all I want, but until I actually go and try, I will never fail, succeed, or learn. Which is far more easily said than done, but I am incredibly thankful for the teachers in my life this year, like high school volunteers, who remind me that the effort is what matters. That just by trying, something will happen. If you see a need, go for it. Just researching doesn't change a thing, but acting does.Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812413873566243763.post-1649026903977381472014-01-29T06:23:00.003-08:002014-01-29T06:27:05.402-08:00Gong Xi Fa Cai!How's that title for some Chinese?? :) I'm learning. I know this is what you say to people to wish them a happy and prosperous new year, but I'm not sure of the exact translation. Maybe one of my Chinese pals can help me out. <br />
Chinese New Year has been in full force since about the time Christmas wrapped up. Stands set up selling decorations, window displays of red clothing, Chinese New Year songs playing in the malls, lanterns hung along streets and businesses. It has made me very excited for this new holiday, personally. (I'm still debating buying a lion dance head to bring back with me to use with any children I work with in the future, but realize this is about the least practical thing to pack ever) So, lots of excitement, lots of red. <br />
Today, at kindergarten, we had a school-wide assembly, the high of which was probably the lion dancers. Y'all, it was wild! I was going to show you a video, but as we all know, my internet leaves a lot to be desired, so here's a picture or two. I was very concerned for some of the acrobatics involved in the dances, but the dancers survived, the kids (mostly) enjoyed it (there were some scared children), and I feel another step closer to being CNY cultured.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZ4DW7djNJVdyi3kVMXO91PXd0dYaGjrI_3YWjxJAjleaYBAPP2VUaVLBWbx0Ez6gXcBv8zpcga2eiLLvhLv8yA1caajxTtEQyP1MZX1AYkW0vXl1vRlmFOjSKZgL7wiRhC9VS5BtW0A/s1600/DSC_0236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZ4DW7djNJVdyi3kVMXO91PXd0dYaGjrI_3YWjxJAjleaYBAPP2VUaVLBWbx0Ez6gXcBv8zpcga2eiLLvhLv8yA1caajxTtEQyP1MZX1AYkW0vXl1vRlmFOjSKZgL7wiRhC9VS5BtW0A/s1600/DSC_0236.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Loving the lions, getting real close and personal</div>
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Principal Evelyn and I</div>
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The big emphasis of CNY is family. Each night of CNY, there are different sides of the family to visit. New Year's Eve is the reunion dinner, New Year's Day is to visit the father's side of the family, Day 2 is to visit the mother's side of the family, all the while visitations to friends and other family members' houses are going on. It sounds like lots of fellowship and lots of food... aka the key to any good holiday in my book. I'm excited! I already have pretty much every meal/non-meal time the first 3 days booked up, so I'm very thankful for those who have invited me to be a part of this holiday with them! Tonight, I got home from Cheshire, and Mrs. Soong had already closed the gate, which is odd. So I got inside and asked why, she told me that the other 2 girls who live here have gone home for CNY so it was just us. Which was great, because I got to catch up and eat the sandwich I made for dinner with one of my favorite people in Malaysia/ever. As we sat and talked, Mrs. S asked me my plans for CNY. I listed off what all I had so far. She asked what I was doing for dinner on Friday night, and I realized that my plans Friday actually do end around 4 or 5. She then told me that I could plan on eating dinner with her on Friday, the first night of CNY. Of course, in typical Mrs. Soong fashion, she told me that if I got invited somewhere else, I should go, but I was welcome to eat with her that night if I wanted to. I would love to eat dinner on the first night of CNY, the night that is dedicated to visiting with the father's side of the family, with a woman who has become much more than a landlady this year, and really does remind me of my dad's mom, Grandma in a lot of ways! <br />
Y'all can count on pictures and updates from the next 2 weeks of my life (yes, CNY lasts 2 weeks). In the mean time, I'll be enjoying time with new friends and family, lion and dragon dances, food on food on food, and ringing in the year of the horse! Selamat Tahun Baru Cina! (Happy Chinese New Year!)<br />
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<br />Sarah Derrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08874150195355155658noreply@blogger.com0