They say you go through "reverse culture shock" upon returning to your home country after a significant amount of time away. Apparently 8 months in Peru was a sufficient amount of time for airports to induce this state of panic and distress.
Let me tell you, it's awesome.
Had a near melt down in the bathroom trying to figure out what to do with the toilet paper. Seriously. I sat there for a while before finally accepting the fact I could flush it.
Witnessed a man crouch down and yell in the face of his 3 year old who was crying in his stroller. Haven't seen anything like that in a long time. What is wrong with people?!
I've answered nearly every question asked of me in spanish. I got excited when the man at customs decided to go with it and switch to spanish.
Overwhelming sense of fear that I'm going to gain back the 25 lbs I lost in Peru in the next week. lol. Not kidding.
Profound sense of sadness that I am not with the people I've lived every day with for the past 8 months.
Looming sense of failure that I did not complete the job I was sent to do.
Waves of sheer panic that a week ago I had the next 19 months of my life planned and now have NO CLUE.
And somewhere...buried deep...is a voice that tells me everythings gonna be alright...I hope.
Hope that is seen is no hope at all, afterall? Yeah?
Aloha Still Means Te Amo,
Suthee
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A New Chapter...
The past few months have been very difficult for me and God has been growing and stretching me in ways I had not expected. Months ago I began to realize that it was possible that my personal gifts and call to ministry may not be the best fit with the Extreme Nazarene organization. I prayed and waited and continued on in my work, but felt more and more distance from what I feel called to do in this life. Then 6 weeks ago my cousin, Brandon, died of an accidental overdose and I pretty much fell apart. Through my grief, I cried out to God to help me get through and by His grace alone I've made it this far. But, it has been confirmed to me through conversations with my family and with my leadership here, that the best option for all involved, is that I discontinue my work with Extreme. My heart is very heavy, for I truly love my team, and truly wanted to complete my job here. I believe in Extreme, I believe in their vision, I believe that I have learned a lot and received great blessings in the time I've been a part of this organization. However, I feel a peace that while God brought me here almost 8 months ago, in this moment, He is leading me elsewhere.
Thank you so much for supporting me over these months, I appreciate you all so much. I sincerely ask forgiveness if you are disappointed in me, it is this thought that has grieved me more than anything. I love you all. Please write if you have any questions. (I believe you can cancel your financial support online, but if not, please let me know and I will find out how to do that.)
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Melissa "Suthee" Sutherland
Thank you so much for supporting me over these months, I appreciate you all so much. I sincerely ask forgiveness if you are disappointed in me, it is this thought that has grieved me more than anything. I love you all. Please write if you have any questions. (I believe you can cancel your financial support online, but if not, please let me know and I will find out how to do that.)
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Melissa "Suthee" Sutherland
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Jesus Wept
Jesus wept.
John 11:35 is the shortest verse in the Bible and is often memorized jokingly amongst Sunday school children to win a prize. Admittedly, I was probably one of those children. And yet, how this verse has come to mean so much to me in the past couple weeks…
Lazarus, a dear friend of Jesus, had died and his family was mourning. Although Jesus knew he had the power to give Lazarus life, he wept for his friend. He wept with his friends. He was deeply troubled and moved by their grief. Wow.
Over the past 3 weeks I have been surrounded by great love and compassion for which I must give thanks. Unfortunately, I have also been told some very unhelpful things, like I should not cry anymore, or that I should be okay by now. The truth is I am not okay. I feel pain like a gaping hole in my being. I have a deep sense of loss. I have endless unanswerable questions.
I know that to see someone like me, who is by nature rather hilarious, with puffy
red eyes more days than not, is difficult. I wish I could be what they want me to be. However, along with my sense of humor, the other gift I’ve been given is my inability to hide my emotions. And right now, because I cannot hide, the only thing I have to offer anyone is my vulnerability and brokenness.
Vulnerability and brokenness are not “good” words. They are sad and scary words. Yet, Jesus too, offered the world his vulnerability and brokenness. He was “a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering,” (Isaiah 53:3). Thankfully, though I do not quite understand what this means yet, it also says “by his wounds we are healed,” (Isaiah 53:5).
It is absurd to me that I have been told not to grieve. I mean, if Jesus (who was about to raise Lazarus from the dead) can weep for his friend, why can’t I? Maybe it’s bad business? Maybe I’m not selling this Jesus saves stuff well enough if I don’t have a smile plastered on my face at all times?
Hmm.
But then I remember that the Gospel is not for sale. So it’s not my job to sell it. There are moments (like right now) when I become so angry that I don’t think I can take it anymore. And then I think about Jesus. I think about the words that caused me to believe in him. He was the most loving man who ever lived. Certainly that is why he wept. He was so filled with love. And if we claim to be his body, we also should be so filled with love. But love means you are open to being hurt. Love means you are vulnerable to grief.
I am grieving. My family is grieving. And the Jesus I know is moved by our grief, and is weeping with us.
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Melissa "Suthee"
John 11:35 is the shortest verse in the Bible and is often memorized jokingly amongst Sunday school children to win a prize. Admittedly, I was probably one of those children. And yet, how this verse has come to mean so much to me in the past couple weeks…
Lazarus, a dear friend of Jesus, had died and his family was mourning. Although Jesus knew he had the power to give Lazarus life, he wept for his friend. He wept with his friends. He was deeply troubled and moved by their grief. Wow.
Over the past 3 weeks I have been surrounded by great love and compassion for which I must give thanks. Unfortunately, I have also been told some very unhelpful things, like I should not cry anymore, or that I should be okay by now. The truth is I am not okay. I feel pain like a gaping hole in my being. I have a deep sense of loss. I have endless unanswerable questions.
I know that to see someone like me, who is by nature rather hilarious, with puffy
red eyes more days than not, is difficult. I wish I could be what they want me to be. However, along with my sense of humor, the other gift I’ve been given is my inability to hide my emotions. And right now, because I cannot hide, the only thing I have to offer anyone is my vulnerability and brokenness.
Vulnerability and brokenness are not “good” words. They are sad and scary words. Yet, Jesus too, offered the world his vulnerability and brokenness. He was “a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering,” (Isaiah 53:3). Thankfully, though I do not quite understand what this means yet, it also says “by his wounds we are healed,” (Isaiah 53:5).
It is absurd to me that I have been told not to grieve. I mean, if Jesus (who was about to raise Lazarus from the dead) can weep for his friend, why can’t I? Maybe it’s bad business? Maybe I’m not selling this Jesus saves stuff well enough if I don’t have a smile plastered on my face at all times?
Hmm.
But then I remember that the Gospel is not for sale. So it’s not my job to sell it. There are moments (like right now) when I become so angry that I don’t think I can take it anymore. And then I think about Jesus. I think about the words that caused me to believe in him. He was the most loving man who ever lived. Certainly that is why he wept. He was so filled with love. And if we claim to be his body, we also should be so filled with love. But love means you are open to being hurt. Love means you are vulnerable to grief.
I am grieving. My family is grieving. And the Jesus I know is moved by our grief, and is weeping with us.
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Melissa "Suthee"
Sunday, March 14, 2010
March 3, 2010
On Wednesday March 3, Dalila and I went to Belen to visit two families we’ve been working with for the past couple months. The pastor who was in town teaching our class and another guy from our group also came along because we were going to meet the husband of one of the women for the first time. We knew that the husband was abusive when drunk which, quite frankly, is every weekend. Upon entering the house, I felt an immediate sense of inhospitality on the part of the husband. He told us very roughly that he had to leave for work shortly and basically asked why we were there. Knowing that his frustration with our presence could easily turn into consequences for his wife later, I began to pray. I prayed, “we need your presence, we need you, do something.” The pastor began to speak, telling a story, and I continued to pray. The wife sat quietly, her mother-in-law and another neighbor began crying and I watched the husband’s entire countenance change before my eyes. He softened and relaxed. By the time the pastor finished his story, I was pouring glasses of orange Fanta for everyone, the husband was thanking us for visiting, asking when we would come back, suggesting we come on the weekend when he doesn’t have to go to work. Amazing.
Afterwards, we visited another family, then walked to the Plaza de Armas so the pastor could see a bit of Iquitos. I never take my cell phone to Belen because thievery is a rather popular sport, so when I returned I was surprised to see a missed call from the Simpsons, our cluster support family. I walked up to their house, and Heather met me on the stairs and took me by the arm telling me they had received a call from Brian Tibbs, who had received a call from Brent Deakins, who had received a call from my dad asking me to call him. I immediately felt sick.
This was not good.
I called my dad and said, “What?...What happened?” And then I heard words that, even now as I replay them in my head, are unbelievable. “Brandon’s dead.” My cousin, whom I love like a brother, was gone. I asked if he was sure. He told me he wished he wasn’t, but yes, he was sure. I’m sure I asked what happened, but I do not remember. I cried like I have never cried and kept saying, “this is not okay, this is not okay, this is not okay”. Heather sat with me as I cried on the phone with my family. When we walked to my room, I collapsed on the bed in the entry way and sobbed. Heather told the girls what had happened, and soon I was surrounded by Emperatriz, Juliana and Dalila who told me to cry, yell, talk, do whatever I needed to do. I don’t know how long I stayed on that bed, but they stayed with me. Over the next hours, all of the girls had returned and took turns sitting with me, talking with me, crying with me, praying with me. Laura and Brittany sat with me all day Thursday and took care of me.
I must say thank you to these wonderful women: Kristy and Nancy, Katie and Emperatriz, Brittany and Esther, Laura and Juliana, Katie and Priscilla, Dalila and Heather. They are my safe place.
Finding a safe place is sometimes an impossible task. After two days of lying in my bed crying, I was told by some people here (not any of the above mentioned) that I needed to stop crying and be okay. No, I’m not kidding. God forbid I really feel this. God forbid I grieve and mourn and wail. God forbid I’m not funny for a few days because I am hurting worse than I have ever hurt in my life. God forbid. I won’t pretend to hide my anger on this subject. Let’s just call it a second round of culture shock.
I really don’t understand the thought process here. I really don’t understand how it’s better to wear a happy face in front of other people and then cry yourself to sleep at night because you won’t admit what you’re struggling with. You know me, I’m all about getting things out into the open. I wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s never a mystery how I am feeling. Everyone knows. And while I’m sure at times it is exhausting for those around me, at least I’m honest.
I realize, of course, how incredibly selfish this all sounds. But really, I don’t feel like I have anything to give. I’m trying. But I am so confused. I’ve never felt anything so intense. I feel like the rug has been ripped from beneath me. Even as I write this, the giant lump in the back of my throat is antagonizing me, reminding me that the pain is just as real today as it was 10 days ago. I’m praying. I’m praying like I’ve never prayed before. My prayers go something like this, “help me. I can’t do this. I need you.” Sometimes I believe that God is listening. Sometimes I feel like I’m just talking to myself, giving myself a pep talk. And sometimes I believe that God is listening and everything will be okay. Sometimes.
And this is why I love the Psalms. David was real. He was not all about sunshine and daisies. He yelled and cried and danced naked. He accused God several times of abandoning him. And yet, he was a man after God’s heart. Maybe we should understand that phrase differently? Not that David was a man who was really godly…but he was a man who was desperately seeking to know and sense God in his life. Godliness is not something I relate to. Desperation to know that we’re not just floating all alone out here IS something I relate to.
In Psalm 13, David spends 4 verses accusing and pleading with God to understand why he’s been left all alone and then he says, “BUT I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.” Everything is far from okay. BUT, I will make this leap of faith and say that I know God is good. I do not understand any of this. I cannot make sense of it. BUT, I want to believe that at some point, I will sense peace.
Maybe this is not the blog of a good little missionary. Maybe I should talk about how my Brandon’s death has made me more thankful that I am here. But it hasn’t. It HAS made me more aware of the desperation we all feel to know and be known, to love and be loved. And THAT is the only reason I would give as to why I’m still here in Peru…because that desperation is something we all know, if we are honest.
Afterwards, we visited another family, then walked to the Plaza de Armas so the pastor could see a bit of Iquitos. I never take my cell phone to Belen because thievery is a rather popular sport, so when I returned I was surprised to see a missed call from the Simpsons, our cluster support family. I walked up to their house, and Heather met me on the stairs and took me by the arm telling me they had received a call from Brian Tibbs, who had received a call from Brent Deakins, who had received a call from my dad asking me to call him. I immediately felt sick.
This was not good.
I called my dad and said, “What?...What happened?” And then I heard words that, even now as I replay them in my head, are unbelievable. “Brandon’s dead.” My cousin, whom I love like a brother, was gone. I asked if he was sure. He told me he wished he wasn’t, but yes, he was sure. I’m sure I asked what happened, but I do not remember. I cried like I have never cried and kept saying, “this is not okay, this is not okay, this is not okay”. Heather sat with me as I cried on the phone with my family. When we walked to my room, I collapsed on the bed in the entry way and sobbed. Heather told the girls what had happened, and soon I was surrounded by Emperatriz, Juliana and Dalila who told me to cry, yell, talk, do whatever I needed to do. I don’t know how long I stayed on that bed, but they stayed with me. Over the next hours, all of the girls had returned and took turns sitting with me, talking with me, crying with me, praying with me. Laura and Brittany sat with me all day Thursday and took care of me.
I must say thank you to these wonderful women: Kristy and Nancy, Katie and Emperatriz, Brittany and Esther, Laura and Juliana, Katie and Priscilla, Dalila and Heather. They are my safe place.
Finding a safe place is sometimes an impossible task. After two days of lying in my bed crying, I was told by some people here (not any of the above mentioned) that I needed to stop crying and be okay. No, I’m not kidding. God forbid I really feel this. God forbid I grieve and mourn and wail. God forbid I’m not funny for a few days because I am hurting worse than I have ever hurt in my life. God forbid. I won’t pretend to hide my anger on this subject. Let’s just call it a second round of culture shock.
I really don’t understand the thought process here. I really don’t understand how it’s better to wear a happy face in front of other people and then cry yourself to sleep at night because you won’t admit what you’re struggling with. You know me, I’m all about getting things out into the open. I wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s never a mystery how I am feeling. Everyone knows. And while I’m sure at times it is exhausting for those around me, at least I’m honest.
I realize, of course, how incredibly selfish this all sounds. But really, I don’t feel like I have anything to give. I’m trying. But I am so confused. I’ve never felt anything so intense. I feel like the rug has been ripped from beneath me. Even as I write this, the giant lump in the back of my throat is antagonizing me, reminding me that the pain is just as real today as it was 10 days ago. I’m praying. I’m praying like I’ve never prayed before. My prayers go something like this, “help me. I can’t do this. I need you.” Sometimes I believe that God is listening. Sometimes I feel like I’m just talking to myself, giving myself a pep talk. And sometimes I believe that God is listening and everything will be okay. Sometimes.
And this is why I love the Psalms. David was real. He was not all about sunshine and daisies. He yelled and cried and danced naked. He accused God several times of abandoning him. And yet, he was a man after God’s heart. Maybe we should understand that phrase differently? Not that David was a man who was really godly…but he was a man who was desperately seeking to know and sense God in his life. Godliness is not something I relate to. Desperation to know that we’re not just floating all alone out here IS something I relate to.
In Psalm 13, David spends 4 verses accusing and pleading with God to understand why he’s been left all alone and then he says, “BUT I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.” Everything is far from okay. BUT, I will make this leap of faith and say that I know God is good. I do not understand any of this. I cannot make sense of it. BUT, I want to believe that at some point, I will sense peace.
Maybe this is not the blog of a good little missionary. Maybe I should talk about how my Brandon’s death has made me more thankful that I am here. But it hasn’t. It HAS made me more aware of the desperation we all feel to know and be known, to love and be loved. And THAT is the only reason I would give as to why I’m still here in Peru…because that desperation is something we all know, if we are honest.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Is It February Already!?!
Hello from the beautiful and humid Amazon Jungle!
The past month has been filled with much work and many lessons. In mid January we were blessed to be involved with a medical and impact mission project here in the city of Iquitos. Together, with the long term staff and an amazing group of short term volunteers from the U.S., we hosted 7 medical clinics in 7 different areas of Iquitos and saw over 1200 patients. While the nurses and doctors were caring for patients, the 40/40s were translating, talking and praying with families, and providing hours of games and activities for children. What an amazing way to share the love of God! It was a beautiful thing to see how each person used their gifts to bless the communities. In addition to the medical clinics and activities for children, we also hosted 4 showings of the Jesus Film, which was a really wonderful way to further express our purpose in being here. Each day was different, with its own set of challenges, but each day our teamwork improved and people were loved in the name of Jesus. By the end of the project we were all exhausted and yet with reawakened passion for our call to the jungle of Peru.
Since the project we have returned to classes and the work in our churches. Dalila (my Peruvian partner) and I are currently working in Belen, a particularly impoverished area of Iquitos, where we will plant our first church. We have begun relationships with 4 different families, visit them on a regular basis, and are beginning to disciple them this week. I first visited Belen my second or third day in Iquitos, and from that moment have had a deep compassion for the people there. The opportunity to be a light in such a dark place is both exciting and humbling. Please pray for us as we continue to form relationships with people in desperate need of hope, that the people would know the great love God has for them and Christ would truly transform their lives.
Thank you so much for all your love and support, I am very blessed to share this journey with you!
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Suthee :)
The past month has been filled with much work and many lessons. In mid January we were blessed to be involved with a medical and impact mission project here in the city of Iquitos. Together, with the long term staff and an amazing group of short term volunteers from the U.S., we hosted 7 medical clinics in 7 different areas of Iquitos and saw over 1200 patients. While the nurses and doctors were caring for patients, the 40/40s were translating, talking and praying with families, and providing hours of games and activities for children. What an amazing way to share the love of God! It was a beautiful thing to see how each person used their gifts to bless the communities. In addition to the medical clinics and activities for children, we also hosted 4 showings of the Jesus Film, which was a really wonderful way to further express our purpose in being here. Each day was different, with its own set of challenges, but each day our teamwork improved and people were loved in the name of Jesus. By the end of the project we were all exhausted and yet with reawakened passion for our call to the jungle of Peru.
Since the project we have returned to classes and the work in our churches. Dalila (my Peruvian partner) and I are currently working in Belen, a particularly impoverished area of Iquitos, where we will plant our first church. We have begun relationships with 4 different families, visit them on a regular basis, and are beginning to disciple them this week. I first visited Belen my second or third day in Iquitos, and from that moment have had a deep compassion for the people there. The opportunity to be a light in such a dark place is both exciting and humbling. Please pray for us as we continue to form relationships with people in desperate need of hope, that the people would know the great love God has for them and Christ would truly transform their lives.
Thank you so much for all your love and support, I am very blessed to share this journey with you!
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Suthee :)
Saturday, January 9, 2010
All New Episodes...
I’m late in saying it, but Happy New Year! I hope your holiday season was filled with much laughter and quality time with loved ones. We celebrated Christmas with a mixture of Peruvian and North American traditions. On Christmas Eve, we attended church and then went to the Simpson’s (our support family) house for games, a gift exchange, and of course—food! In keeping with Peruvian tradition, at midnight we celebrated by greeting one another with hugs, set off some fireworks, and drank hot chocolate. Yes, that’s right- we drank hot chocolate in 90 degree weather! After our celebration at the Simpson’s we went to the Plaza de Armas in Iquitos and walked around taking photos and observing the mass of people celebrating the holidays. On Christmas day we had a semi-traditional North American lunch complete with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. It was a very special time together, though we all missed our families and friends back home. New Years we celebrated again at the Simpson’s with a time of worship and prayer and yes, more fireworks!
Honestly, I’ve hesitated writing lately, because I have been dealing with some major culture shock. My love affair with Peru stopped somewhere in the second week here in Iquitos. Don’t get me wrong, Iquitos is beautiful and the idea that I live in the Amazon Jungle is something I’ll always treasure. But, there are days when all I want to do is go home, days when I question why I’m here at all, days when I just want to eat some spicy ahi poke and hang out with my friends at the beach.
Last week was particularly difficult and I spent a lot of time crying and praying that I would know what to do to get through it. It was in those dark moments that 1, I was reminded of what wonderful friends and family I have in the states and 2, I realized what amazing friends I have made here on my team. There is no doubt in my mind that I am blessed beyond what any one person deserves AND that life looks a lot different when we choose to be grateful. Thank you, my loved ones, for all the prayer and encouragement. I could not do this without you. Really.
Honestly, I’ve hesitated writing lately, because I have been dealing with some major culture shock. My love affair with Peru stopped somewhere in the second week here in Iquitos. Don’t get me wrong, Iquitos is beautiful and the idea that I live in the Amazon Jungle is something I’ll always treasure. But, there are days when all I want to do is go home, days when I question why I’m here at all, days when I just want to eat some spicy ahi poke and hang out with my friends at the beach.
Last week was particularly difficult and I spent a lot of time crying and praying that I would know what to do to get through it. It was in those dark moments that 1, I was reminded of what wonderful friends and family I have in the states and 2, I realized what amazing friends I have made here on my team. There is no doubt in my mind that I am blessed beyond what any one person deserves AND that life looks a lot different when we choose to be grateful. Thank you, my loved ones, for all the prayer and encouragement. I could not do this without you. Really.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Inolvidable (Unforgettable)
Thursday we traveled by boat up the Amazon River to a village called Padre Cocha. We spent the morning going door to door to invite people to a program in the center of the village that afternoon. When we returned to the church we ate lunch, which consisted of a whole fish (head and all!) in a cold soup.
After lunch we explored the village some more and then rested in the church. I was laying on the floor of the church and was awakened by two little girls talking to me and killing all the ants that were crawling around me. I sat up and talked with them, and pretty soon there were 5 little girls ages 7-11 telling me about their families and asking me about mine. One little girl informed me that I was older than her mom (that’s always nice to hear haha!). In those moments talking with them, I was reminded yet again why I made the decision to move to Peru for two years.
At 4pm, we all walked to the center of the village and played with children who came to the program. I counted 75 children playing elbow tag and simon says and by the time we sat down for the drama, the amount of children had doubled. After the drama, my friend Gary shared some of his testimony (in español) and presented the Gospel. Hard to believe 3 months ago we didn’t know how to tell people where we were from much less tell the greatest story in history!
At the close of the program, we had small gifts of pencils, soap, and toothpaste for the kids and there were at least 200 children following our group through the village back to the church. It was amazing.
We returned home exhausted and soaking wet from the rain, but content in the knowledge we had learned much in the day...
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Suthee
After lunch we explored the village some more and then rested in the church. I was laying on the floor of the church and was awakened by two little girls talking to me and killing all the ants that were crawling around me. I sat up and talked with them, and pretty soon there were 5 little girls ages 7-11 telling me about their families and asking me about mine. One little girl informed me that I was older than her mom (that’s always nice to hear haha!). In those moments talking with them, I was reminded yet again why I made the decision to move to Peru for two years.
At 4pm, we all walked to the center of the village and played with children who came to the program. I counted 75 children playing elbow tag and simon says and by the time we sat down for the drama, the amount of children had doubled. After the drama, my friend Gary shared some of his testimony (in español) and presented the Gospel. Hard to believe 3 months ago we didn’t know how to tell people where we were from much less tell the greatest story in history!
At the close of the program, we had small gifts of pencils, soap, and toothpaste for the kids and there were at least 200 children following our group through the village back to the church. It was amazing.
We returned home exhausted and soaking wet from the rain, but content in the knowledge we had learned much in the day...
Aloha Means Te Amo,
Suthee
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