Posted in After the Race
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/30/2008
My sleep pattern is off, I've been feeling a lot of anxiety,
and every time I use a new bathroom I have to remind myself that it's okay to
flush the toilet paper now. It's amazing how foreign I feel in my own passport
country. Truth is, I've never felt one-hundred percent comfortable here in the
States-a result of having spent nearly half of my life overseas-but this is
just stressful.
The hardest part is the quiet-the loneliness. I am
accustomed to having at least a few (if not more than twenty) very familiar
faces around me twenty-four seven. For the last year I haven't been able to go
out alone, sleep alone, or even just escape to a quiet place without bumping in
to some teammate. Now I drive around in my car with a feeling of complete
liberation, yet complete isolation; I sleep in a room by myself, equipped for
three normal people, but with the space for all of the members of team Ignite;
and I find myself at home alone while my family is out-it's quiet...too quiet.
I know that this is part of our re-entry process, but it's
more uncomfortable than I had imagined. Random thoughts pop into my head and I
want to grab Krystle or Megan to tell them, something funny happens and expect
Aaron or Traday to be right there with me; I wake up and feel the need to ask Molly
or Seth what the plan is for the day; I feel frustrated and assume I can just
grab Jeanette to pray over me. I can't do any of this, though. My teammates are
spread around the country, and over half of them I haven't even been able to
call yet. This is the greatest "culture shock" I have ever faced.
On Sunday I woke up with huge anxiety. I had to speak at
church, but that was not the root of the feeling. In fact, the speaking was the
easy part-it was just going that was stressing me out. I know many faces from my church, but I don't
necessarily know the people behind them. I feel like a lot of people have
gotten to know me rather deeply this year, but to me many of them are still strangers. So in a way, I
felt like I was getting thrown into a fishbowl Sunday morning-everyone knew
each other, and they knew I was coming and may have even known things about me,
but I didn't know them. I have become more introverted this year, and in large
groups have relied heavily on the fact that I can have a teammate nearby.
Eventually, I calmed down and the anxiety wasn't as heavy, but it was still
hard to not want to just run away from the "chaos".
This morning I was reading in Oswald Chambers "My Utmost for
his Highest" and a few things really stood out to me. He writes, "What a
revelation it is to know that sorrow, bereavement, and suffering are actually
the clouds that come along with God! ‘The clouds are the dust of His feet'
(Nahum 1:3)...If there were never any clouds in our lives, we would have no
faith." I know we have gone through a lot of clouds this year, but now I am in
a different type of cloud. This cloud feels like loneliness, and I know I will
need to rely heavily on Christ for companionship. He is the only one that was
with me through the entire race and is still
with me here.
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/23/2008
I have several blogs on mind to write, but we've been crazy busy these last few days. Last night was our end of the year banquet and I spent most of my free moments this week putting together a video for it. It was an awesome night--complete with an awards ceremony where Aaron and I MC-ed (with plenty of jokes and even a Minnesota accent). Go figure--I got the award for "Most likely to get picked up by SNL." We saw team slide shows and fought back tears through some heartfelt thank yous.
Today is our last full day and is a "Fun Day" out touring the islands. Tomorrow we get on a plane bound for the states--crazy. I hope to relax a bit at home, but I'm also looking forward to posting some blogs from our last few weeks here in Nicaragua. Look out for stories from the Dump and of the two carnivals we put on. Here's a little teaser: I never would have known I have a sensitivity to latex (as discovered by the strange purple rash on my hands) if I hadn't made hundreds of balloon animals over the course of two days. Love you guys, and I'll see many of you in just a few days.
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/23/2008
Seth Barnes Sr. recently visited Nsoko, Swaziland where he had the opportunity to meet Moses' famliy. This is his story of their progress.
You may recall the story (recounted here and here) of Baby Moses. It was so heart-rending. When my son
and his team visited her home in Swaziland, they were shocked by what
they saw - a woman who seemed barely alive and her five children who
blinked at them from the darkness.
She was laying on the ground with a baby that was pitifully small and fragile.
Her name, they learned, was Philile. They called her baby, "Baby Moses."
My son's team began to care for Philile and her family, including
Baby Moses. He began gaining weight, and things were looking up. But
one day, he got an infection and died shortly thereafter.
On our trip to Swaziland this past month, Jumbo introduced me to a lady with a bright infectious smile, "Seth, this is Philile, baby Moses' mom."
I couldn't believe it! She looked so healthy, so normal. Jumbo
continued, "She's been taking her ARV's [anti-retroviral medication
that slows the impact of the HIV virus]. And your son's team and a
donor have helped ensure she gets proper nutrition."
I talked to Philile, and she described her baby's funeral, how she'd
been so weak that Seth and Aaron had to carry her to the grave site.
"My life hasn't been easy," she said, "but now my children and I are
eating regularly." She has even been helping us feed the many orphans
in the area through our care points.
Our team looked at her ramshackle mud and sticks home and decided that
something had to be done. We believe in a God of redemption, a God who
takes unbearable tragedies like Baby Moses' death and turns them for
good. In the weeks to come, we plan to build Philile and her family a
new home. And then we intend to see Baby Moses' memory produce a
legacy of goodness that amazes the world. Please pray with us to that
end.
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/13/2008
A week ago the plan was to go to the New Jersey/Pennsylvania
area for a week or so and then head down to Georgia. The “plan” was to go to a
state school near Atlanta. The “plan” was to get that out of the way in two and
a half years so that I could go back out on the field with an actual degree.
Well…after a discouraging conversation with financial aid
that basically determined that I can’t afford school next year, it dawned on me
that all of that might have been my plan;
not necessarily God’s. After the initial
shock of realizing I’m coming home in a few weeks and have no idea what I’m
going to do, I started to pray a lot harder. I had been making a lot of
arrangements before asking God what HE wanted
me to do next year.
I trust that Christ has a unique plan for my future, and I
am willing to step out in faith even when it’s scary. After spending some time
in prayer this week, I still feel like I am meant to be in Georgia, so I will
follow through with that. However, it is especially intimidating for me right
now since I have no job in GA, no home to move into, and no savings to rely on
in the meantime. Just the same, I will pack up my belongings in PA and head
down to GA around the 4th of August. God has never let me down in
the past, and I believe He will continue to be faithful. Please pray for me as I
continue to seek Him in what the next step is. Also, please pray for my
financial situation. I will return to the states without the comfort of a team
fund to pay for my food, lodging, and transportation. As of now, I have my
flight to Philly and very little else for my move to Georgia and for the time
while I look for a job. I trust He will take care of those things as well,
though.
If you are interested in dropping me an encouraging word or
helping me out financially, you can contact me via e-mail at traci.n.vs@gmail.com. Any financial gifts
can be sent to my parents at the following address:
Traci
VanSumeren
c/o Tim
VanSumeren
2040 Lehigh
Street #209
Easton, PA
18042
I really do appreciate every
prayer you guys offer up on my behalf. In addition, the e-mails and comments
that several of you have sent me over the year have been such a blessing. Many
times they have been exactly what I needed on that day. I look forward to seeing
many of you when I get back in less than two weeks. Please let me know if you’d
like to get together for lunch, coffee, etc. I would love to catch up with what
has been going on in your lives and tell you even more about this incredible
experience. This is a ballpark idea of where I will be and when:
July 24—fly
into Ft. Lauderdale, FL
July 25—fly
into Philadelphia, PA
July 25-Aug
4—Easton, PA/Phillipsburg, NJ area
July
27—presentation at Cornerstone E. Free Church during 3rd service
Aug 4—leave
PA; overnight in Virginia
Aug 5-Aug
15—Tifton, GA & Jacksonville, FL (I’m not yet sure whether I’ll be in
Tifton for the first few days or the last few)
Aug 15—hopefully move up to the Atlanta area
(eek!)
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/4/2008
La Quinta is set in one of the poorest areas, and surrounded by barrios and a large dump. Currently there are eleven kids that live in the children’s home there. It was originally created to take in orphans at the toddler level. However, at around seven and eleven, the two children that belong to the house parents are the youngest. The other nine are mostly in their teens and aren’t necessarily orphans at all. In fact, most of them have full families, but they aren’t able to support them or provide and education. As a result, the kids live at the home long-term with the ability to visit their families whenever they like.
Incidentally, the compound is also home to quite a few mango trees as well as a few banana, coconut, and avocado trees. We wind up taking periodic mango breaks throughout the day. Now and then I forget my age and try to climb the trees myself in an eager quest to retrieve mangoes. I have yet to reach one, though. I get too high and think I’m going to fall (I have developed a minor fear of heights over the years) or that I’ll first break the branch I’m standing on and then fall. However, I have successfully gotten mangoes down to my partner, Megan, on the ground by shaking the branches vigorously. I’ll try to get some video of that—based on how foolish I feel while doing it, it must be rather ridiculous to watch. Anyway, most of the time the kids bring them to us throughout the day. They speak different levels of English but we’ve been encouraging them to practice with us. I have really enjoyed hanging out with the kids and just being a part of their lives for this period. It is amazing what you can learn from adolescence when you take the time to talk with them.
The mangoes are very stringy, but Seth eats like fifteen a day, anyway.
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 7/4/2008
We have been in Nicaragua for just over a week now, and let me tell you…it’s been tough. Just knowing that it’s our last country brings its own set of feelings, but on top of that I have had to deal with plans for the “future” quite a bit more lately—a future that came a lot quicker than I anticipated. Not only has that been overwhelming, but it has also affected my thoughts, my attitude, and even my desire to be here. Sometimes I think that it would just be easier to be home right now—I don’t do well with goodbyes or ends. I tend to just “get through” them. However, I do not want my last experiences on this trip wished away or simply endured. I want to not only enjoy my time but continue to grow and make a difference as well. My team has been praying a lot for a focus while we are here; to be fully present for the last few remaining weeks. It has been especially difficult when I know things are going on back home. For example—today is the 4th of July and though I’d rather be with my family versus sitting in my bunk bed in yet another temporary room, I am learning to be content. Hah! Contentedness—it’s been a process all year that is constantly changing faces.
We (Ignite) and Beloved One are staying in Jinotepe in a hotel owned and run by our missionary contacts here. Glen and Lynn use it to help traveling missionaries as well as generate some support for their ministry here. For the past week Ignite has been going to a compound in the barrios called La Quinta that has a children’s home, clinic, preschool, and church. Our first day at “work” was a little scattered—they hoped we could help lay stone for a walkway around the church. However, the stones are about 115 lbs. a piece, making it difficult (but not impossible *grunt*) for us girls, and it turned out that we were too many hands for the task, anyway. So the girls ended up hanging out with the kids and washing all of the chairs for church. Since then, the six of us girls have been painting up a storm while the boys continue to lay the walkway. It has been pretty amazing to see how much nicer everything looks with a fresh coat of paint and I know that it has been a huge blessing to the families that live there as well as to Glen and Lynn (they started the compound).
Posted in Nicaragua
by Traci VanSumeren
on 6/28/2008
On Monday, our last full day in Antigua, we took nine of the
women out for lunch at Pollo Campero. I was actually feeling pretty sick that
day, but decided to go anyway. I’m glad I did because it was a lot of fun and
you could tell the women were really excited even before we left. It was only a
few blocks from the hospital, so we wheeled the ladies outside and into the
streets. We went through the main park in Antigua and then on to the
restaurant. The women rarely have the chance to get out, and for some of them
this was only their second or third time. We were each kind of in charge of a certain
woman—wheeling them and helping them eat if they needed it. Some were limited
to a milkshake and flan that we fed to them, while others were capable of
getting their own nuggets or bone chicken. The women smiled and laughed and
seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves. Part of me wondered if these types of
experiences are the only times they don’t feel like a part of an institution,
and rather, like a real person able to make decisions as simple as what type of
drink to order. I hope that they realized their individual importance to us and
to Christ that day. It was so special to share in the fun with them.
Posted in Guatemala
by Traci VanSumeren
on 6/21/2008
I have a friend from my freshman year of college—a really great guy with a lot going for him. A little over a year ago he collapsed while running and everything stopped. No breath in his lungs; no pulse; no brain activity; nothing. For ten minutes he was without life. In what has been considered a miracle, he was revived, and after some time came out of the coma he had gone into. However, because of the length of time that he was gone, he has suffered severe brain trauma. Most likely he will have to be taken care of for the rest of his life; he will be restricted to a wheel chair; he will never run track again. Because he was a senior in college and near the end of the year when it happened, the school has graduated him, but he will probably never get to use his degree. Through one incident, his life has been forever changed—he will never be the same guy that I remember from freshman year.
It breaks my heart every time I think about him. I reflect on his character, his potential, his love for others, even his health—as far as I know, the doctors still can’t figure out what went wrong. I have thought about him a lot this week, and his situation has weighed very heavily on my heart.
For the past week we have been volunteering at the hospital here in Antigua, Guatemala.
A large portion of the hospital serves more as an institution/orphanage for all ages. They have a children’s ward, an area for youth women, youth men, adult women, and adult men. I have been going between the youth women and the children. The language barrier has been difficult enough, but throw in various states of sanity, differing IQ levels, and often low brain capacities and it’s all that much more challenging. Some of them actually are rather high functioning in their brain, but possess speech impediments and obvious severe physical handicaps.
The first day was very awkward and sometimes plain uncomfortable for me. I didn’t know who comprehended Spanish let alone English, who I could touch and who would scratch me, who was even in a state of reality and who was in a world of their own. I was overwhelmed after a hour and didn’t know how I was going to do this for the rest of the time in Antigua.
I haven’t seen my friend since his junior year of college, so I don’t know exactly what he’s like now. I’ve seen pictures and heard stories from our mutual friends, but there is still a lot of mystery as to what state he is in. Each new person I met at the hospital made me think of him—could he have this disability; does he struggle with this issue; can he communicate better or worse than this person? It has made it very hard for me to spend time with these women because I constantly have him on my mind. I think about what he was like before and I wonder what these women could have been like without their various sets of challenges. It has made this whole experience so much more personal to me, and sometimes it’s just too much for me to handle. After a half hour or hour I find myself needing to go over to the children’s area just to get away from the painful thoughts of my friend. Last night, with the lights out and the room dark, I lay awake for a while thinking about him. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about how differently things could have been. I began to pray.
God, I have no idea why you allow things like this to happen to certain people, let alone the ones like ****.I don’t know how you choose who suffers and goes through extremely trying circumstances and who doesn’t. I don’t understand why some horrible people have been able to live health,y long lives and wonderful people are faced with disabilities or death. I have no idea why Moses was allowed to die and tyrants, murderers, or rapists live. I don’t know all of these things, God, but I do trust you. I believe you know exactly what you are doing with **** and I still trust that you had an enormous purpose in mind when you took Moses to be with you—after all, I have already seen some of the fruit from that loss. I will continue to trust you, Lord, but some days it’s just too hard for me to grasp and I just want to know why. Be patient with me when I am overwhelmed by thoughts of what life could have been like for **** or Moses. Thank you for having a plan and purpose for each one of us. Amen.
She was laying on the ground with a baby that was pitifully small and fragile.
We have been in Nicaragua for just over a week now, and let me tell you…it’s been tough. Just knowing that it’s our last country brings its own set of feelings, but on top of that I have had to deal with plans for the “future” quite a bit more lately—a future that came a lot quicker than I anticipated. Not only has that been overwhelming, but it has also affected my thoughts, my attitude, and even my desire to be here. Sometimes I think that it would just be easier to be home right now—I don’t do well with goodbyes or ends. I tend to just “get through” them. However, I do not want my last experiences on this trip wished away or simply endured. I want to not only enjoy my time but continue to grow and make a difference as well. My team has been praying a lot for a focus while we are here; to be fully present for the last few remaining weeks. It has been especially difficult when I know things are going on back home. For example—today is the 4th of July and though I’d rather be with my family versus sitting in my bunk bed in yet another temporary room, I am learning to be content. Hah! Contentedness—it’s been a process all year that is constantly changing faces.
On Monday, our last full day in Antigua, we took nine of the
women out for lunch at Pollo Campero. I was actually feeling pretty sick that
day, but decided to go anyway. I’m glad I did because it was a lot of fun and
you could tell the women were really excited even before we left. It was only a
few blocks from the hospital, so we wheeled the ladies outside and into the
streets. We went through the main park in Antigua and then on to the
restaurant. The women rarely have the chance to get out, and for some of them
this was only their second or third time. We were each kind of in charge of a certain
woman—wheeling them and helping them eat if they needed it. Some were limited
to a milkshake and flan that we fed to them, while others were capable of
getting their own nuggets or bone chicken. The women smiled and laughed and
seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves. 
I have a friend from my freshman year of college—a really great guy with a lot going for him. A little over a year ago he collapsed while running and everything stopped. No breath in his lungs; no pulse; no brain activity; nothing. For ten minutes he was without life. In what has been considered a miracle, he was revived, and after some time came out of the coma he had gone into. However, because of the length of time that he was gone, he has suffered severe brain trauma. Most likely he will have to be taken care of for the rest of his life; he will be restricted to a wheel chair; he will never run track again. Because he was a senior in college and near the end of the year when it happened, the school has graduated him, but he will probably never get to use his degree. Through one incident, his life has been forever changed—he will never be the same guy that I remember from freshman year.
