Bank Error In Your Favor Collect $200!

What would you do if your bank gave you $200 by mistake? What an extraordinary gift to receive. I've been listening to a sermon series from Lifechurch.tv on blessings. The pastor is talking about all that God has bestowed to us and how we need to offer something back in return.

I went to the bank one recent Monday to cash a check for 170 Q, which is about 20 dollars. I was thinking about the bank giving me my money. I mean Jesus said it's better give than to receive. But I've always wondered about the person on the receiving end. I mean by receiving the gift he is in turn blessing the gift giver. This makes me think receiving is equally as good, or something like that.

Guatemalan banks give and receive money every day, but I doubt they are blessed because they're rather corrupt. A little corruption took place earlier that same Monday when I walked into the bank to cash the check. There was a huge line at the door, similar to the lines that trailed outside of movie theaters when the original Star Wars movies were rereleased. This line was galactic and growing. I slid into line like a bum waiting for free food. I was hungry and wanted to be out quickly. The guard at the door must have known this because he came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I explained to him (in Spanish) that I needed to cash a check. He told me to move over to a much shorter line. I had a feeling he was wrong, but what do I know. I'm only a gringo. Hesitantly I moved over to the other much shorter line. As soon as I reached the bank employee, she made it clear that I was in the wrong place and needed to hop back in the other line, which'd doubled in size. Ok, maybe that's not really too corrupt, but I stormed out anyway.

I walked up to another bank, which is pleasantly never busy, and close to my gym. It was almost five p.m. when I arrived inside the bank and all of the cashiers were starting to close up. There were a few people in front of me, but no galactic line, so I waited patiently. Shortly a cashier called me over and I handed her my check and my passport and we shared a few moments of awkward silence. I never really know what to say when I'm cashing a check. Yep, that's my signature. Oh, yeah my passport picture is horrible. Yes, I would like to take you out for coffee (only if they're cute and a girl). But typically I let the silence consume the room like a heavy fog.

"1 mil y setenta cientos?" she asked.

Confused I nodded and said, "si." She proceeded to count out the money. Why was she counting out so many 100's? How much was my check really for? Well, she probably knows what she's doing anyway. So I just said, "Gracisas," and headed out for the gym.

But the money felt heavy in my pocket. Had I done something wrong? The cashier was the one that counted the money and she knew her job better than I do, but maybe she'd read the check wrong. I kept walking. Had she really said Q 17,000 (about $200 more than I'd expected)? In the game monopoly you get 200 dollars if you draw the card that says bank error in your favor, maybe I'd drawn that card in real life. I tried to walk as casually as possible, but I felt like there was a huge sign on me that read "Money!!! Take my Money!!" My pace quickened and I could have sworn a police truck was following me. Finally I dashed into the gym, rushed up to the locker room, and counted the money. Yep, she'd given me way too much. I knew there wasn't anyway the check I'd cashed had been for that much.

So, what do you do when the bank gives you too much money? By the time I had counted the money in the locker room the bank had already closed. I could give some of the money away, pay off some small loans, buy my self some cool new toys.

But, what would that say about me? I'm reading a book that talks about how writers create true characters and he says that characters are defined by the choices they make and true character is revealed by the choices a character makes under pressure. I felt a lot of pressure to keep the money.

Or I could give the money back in the morning. I mean the bank would probably take the money out of the cashier's paycheck and she probably only makes 1,700 Q in a month. I can't take someone's salary. I don't want that to be a chapter in my story.

It's funny all of the excuses you can come up with when you don't want to do the right thing. Some of them even sound right. Like giving some of the money to a beggar on the street. Yet, in the end I knew I had to give it all back. God wants us to give him 10% of what he has given to us not out of what we have taken from others. The sermon I listened to challenged me to give what I have. I gave the money back the next day and it made the cashier very happy. I guess by returning that money, I was making her life a little better. I'm glad I did the right thing. I want that to be my story.

Spanish Slip Ups!

Just the other day Isa, one of the 8th graders, exploded with laughter. It was my fault. I seem to be very good at making my students laugh. Not because I'm a great stand up comedian. No, that would probably mean my classes were entertaining.

Most of the time my students laugh at me for things I don't understand. Like one time I was at a birthday party. A group of 8th grade boys, they're in 9th now and much more mature now, were asking me questions in Spanish. They couldn't control their laughter. Apparently I was saying yes to a bunch of ridiculously inappropriate questions. They still haven't told me what they were talking about and now I know not to say yes to things I don't understand.

My Spanish has improved greatly from that night when I may or may not have said yes to liking certain really gross things like cats or butterflies (I am just guessing here). Yet, I still have slip ups.

I was in my Spanish class a couple of weeks ago and Letty, my teacher, asked me, "Do you have a girlfriend here in Guatemala?"

I chuckled and answered with a sad, "No."

"Are you looking for one?" She responded quickly.

"I have friends who were helping me," I said stifling a laugh.

"Who?"

"The secretary at my school said she would look for me." Or at least that is what I meant to say, remember all of this is in spanish, the only part I was sure of was when I'd responded with a sad no. What I actually said was, "Yasi is good looking for me." Letty started to chortle and at first I didn't really know why. Then I realized what I had said and a hard long laugh erupted from deep in my gut. After I regained my breath I explained to Letty that my secretary was just my friend and that I wasn't interested in her because she's married and has a child. Now every time I go to my Spanish classes, Letty gives me a hard time. At least Letty didn't hear my next slip up.

So, why did Isa laugh? Well, it was lunch time and I was on duty down in the middle school building. I was making my rounds through the building. Checking on the students, just the usual. Isa was sitting by the microwaves with her friend Danitza. These girls love it when I make a mistake with my Spanish and so sometimes they try to bait me. But I was being careful. It didn't matter. I set the trap for myself.

Isa had a Pizza Hutt box and so I asked, "Are you having Pizza?" Earlier this question worked to get me a slice of Pizza from one of the 6th graders, but this time I received a "I'm too cool for this," response, which I guess is the difference between a 6th grade boy and an 8th grade girl. But then I looked at the box and realized my error. She wasn't eating Pizza, she was eating a Calzone!

I love those. So I said, "Nice Calzone. How is it?" Isa and Danitza looked at me and then their laughter started to build like a giant title wave.

"What did you say, mister?" Isa replied.

"Calzone," I stated cautiously, what had I done wrong? They started to laugh harder and wouldn't tell me what I had just done. All I could do was stand there confused, but then Isa tossed me the second half of her calzone. She must have been feeling sorry for me, but not sorry enough to let me in on what I'd just said.

Fortunately Yasi, my secretary who I am not interested in, was able to help me out. After stifling a laugh she explained to me the error of my ways. In Spanish Calzone pronounced Kal-zown means women's underwear. I'd just asked my 8th grader if she was eating girl's panties.

Twenty-Sixth Birthday!

On the day I turned twenty-six, just hours before my small celebration, I nearly died. This marks the second time I nearly died on my birthday. The other being the day I was born. I was premature and almost didn't make it past the delivery room. I am very fortunate that the doctors knew what they were doing and were able to save my life. But on my twenty-sixth birthday, if not for one of the millions of speed bumps here in Guatemala my fortune might have changed. Speed bumps, or as they are called here tumilos, are actually illegal in Guatemala. But that doesn't stop people from erecting them in front of their houses. Most small towns along the Pan American Highway have at least one tumilo for ever person living in the town (not kidding). Typically I curse these stupid speed bumps. But now I owe one my life.

It so happens that the tiny one way street I walk down every day on my way home from the gym only has two speed bumps, well one full one and one that's been chiseled away by annoyed motorists. I've walked this street manny times, it's almost second nature. So, on my birthday I was thinking more about being twenty-six and what that meant for my life than my walk home. It's funny what a birthday can make you think about. Thoughts of future relationships and the desire to start a family drifted through my brain. A glimpse of my life as a writer floated in front of my eyes. Right now I am teaching in Guatemala, but at twenty-six is that where I want to be for another year? Can I find what I am looking for down here? Do I want to go back to school and could I do that while I'm living here? Just teaching was okay for twenty-five, but the passing of another year sure makes me wonder. So, I was deep in thought and rocking out to Snow Patrol when I decided to cross the street.

The traffic for the one-way street is supposed to come up the street towards the gym, the opposite direction I was walking, so I could watch the on coming traffic. As I was about to cross the street, a car turned up the street so I adjusted my pace accordingly and stepped off the sidewalk to cross before the car sped past me. Unfortunately here in Guatemala one way streets are really just a suggestion. Like flossing or changing your oil, no one really does it. I should have known that a car would be coming the wrong way on the one-way street. But I was to busy enjoying my birthday. So, I stepped out on the street and, Wham! Whack! However you describe being rammed into by a car and flung into the air. I landed on my feet a couple of yards away from the car. Instantly I started pointing with my index finger at the car, trying to help him realize that he was going the wrong way. Then like a spike being hammered into the train tracks I realized I'd just been blindsided by a car, on my birthday. Is this what I want out of my life? As I stood shaken next to the curb the car zoomed off and I was left to walk home with a sore knee, hip, and elbow.

Why didn't the accident do more damage to me? Was my health my birthday present from God? The car had just crossed over the speed bump and started to speed back up when it nailed me. These speed bumps might not be legal, but I am sure thankful for the one that helped save my life. The rest of my birthday was great. And I am very thankful for all of the Birthday wishes I received. Here's to turning twenty-six and having a shot at turning twenty-seven!

Almost a Pre-K Teacher

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to teach preschool age kids? How about four-year-olds who's first language is Spanish? Oh, these kids understand a little English now, but sometimes I feel like they just don't want to pay attention.

Two weeks ago I was asked to fill in for the regular pre-k teacher and teach for a full morning. My first reaction was to throw a temper tantrum. With my semester's experience of teaching these kids, I know how to throw a good one. But I decided to handle it like a man and see what I could learn.

Big surprise, all of the kids, not just the ones that who excel (a word used loosely here) in English, knew their classes' daily routine. Routines are saviors for little kids. Early in my PE class I installed a routine. The pre-kers follow me out to the court. We walk on the wooden sandbox to work on balance, then hop around a set of stones that lead to the court, and finally we race to the center of the basketball court. At least that is the plan. If you can imagine the next part of the routine is even more chaotic. I try to lead them in stretches but they run around. Typically one of the little guys asks me if he can take off his jacket. This causes a chain reaction that ends in all the kids running-amuck, jacketless. On good days we follow our stretches with a bunch of different fun movements, like crawling like a bear, walking like a crab, and skipping. Then we try to play a game. My routine doesn't always work that well, but I had hope their class routine would lead to an easy morning for me.

But, back to my adventure subbing their class. According to the child in charge of moving the Weather Clip it was a sunny day. As soon as he picked up the card with a radiantly smiling sun on it, the entire class shouted "SUNNY!" I think they were supposed to wait for me to ask what type of weather we were having. We didn't make it that far, but we almost did. The rest of the day was filled with more almosts. We made it to chapel but I almost lost a kid. He decided to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. We made it to art and I almost didn't pick them back up. Just kidding. They ate all their food during snack time and almost listened to me while I read them a story. Recess was fun, they almost emptied the sandbox. And finally during free time the boys almost destroyed the classroom. All of these almosts caused us to be late for their parents to pick them up. Yet, without their routines I think I would've almost died.

Teaching similingual kids can be fun because they kind of say really cute things. They have huge imaginations and they smile a lot. But I was exhausted by the end of the day. My friends kept asking if I was sick. It's hard when you teach a class of kids who are all off in their own worlds most of the time. But, hey, they're just little kids and I don't think they should have to grow up too fast. I just hope I don't have to sub for them again. That was a lot of work.

Merry Christmas!!

This was Addi's first Christmas and she decided to sit on my lap for most of it. I couldn't

have asked for anything more precious for Christmas. I hope everyone had a great Christmas

and has a great start to the new year. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!

A Tikal Thanksgiving

Bruce Cockburn, one of my favorite musicians, wrote a song about Night Trains, which was probably inspired by a trip he took. I wanted to quote the song, but it has nothing to do with Mayans or Thanksgiving, but I digress.

Anyway, I took trip on a Night Bus to Tikal, a Mayan ruin, for Thanksgiving. I have no plans of writing a song about it, but I do have to say one thing, one of the passengers sitting in front of me had an old boom-box cd player and was blasting, if blasting is the correct word, old 80's soft rock. After that I had the song " Eclipse of the Heart" stuck in my head for most of the day.

Strangely the horrible Bonnie Tyler song and not Bruce Cockburn's song fit my trip, because the Mayan's were known to follow the lunar calendar. Whenever there was an eclipse, they ripped the hearts out of their enemies in sacrifice to their gods. In fact, most of the gigantic temples in Tikal were built in correlation with the sun or moon.

As I walked around the ancient buildings, I kept wondering what it would be like to walk around New York a thousand years after it had been deserted. I saw in the 2009 September issue of National Geographic what New York looked like when Henry Hudson discovered it 4oo years ago. Check this issue out, because the urban takeover on the island of Manhattan is very similar to the jungle takeover in Tikal, except in the opposite direction.

Manhattan, once a forest, now is a gigantic city and Tikal, once a sprawling Mayan metropolis, now is a gigantic jungle. During Tikal's peak, it was the epicenter for much of the Mayan world. Now it's a national park in the middle of the jungle. So, as you look at the pictures below try to envision Tikal as it once was, a thriving city. The temples were dyed red to symbolize life. The grounds were stone. It was immaculate. It was alive.

Yet, for the city to continue to live the Mayan's believed that someone had to die. It was their circle of life. Blood was sacred, life giving, and so at one time blood spilled down the temples, as the priests ripped out the hearts of their unfortunate human sacrifices. Mayans believed that when blood was spilled in sacrifice to the gods life was renewed. Mysteriously something, maybe famine, war, or overpopulation, ripped the heart out of the Mayan culture leaving it dead. But because of the death of the Mayan culture, many Guatemalan's make a living off of the national park. The Mayans understood the connection between life and death. Unfortunately they didn't know about Christ, the man who broke the cycle and quenched the need for sacrifices. Yet, for me, walking around their sacrificial monuments pointed me to Christ, because they reminded me of the world's need for a savior.

5 steps to running the Xela Half Marathon

Step one: start off slow. Independencia, the main street in and out of Xela, was packed with runners bobbing up and down. Everyone trying to warm up their legs. Knowing that any last minute help would probably speed them onto the finish line. Up at the front of the line were the Kenyans, invited so they could win the race, and who could win the race with their legs tied. Fast is in their blood. The Kenyans were already starting their fourth kelimoter when I crossed my first. I was told by a very wise man to let everyone pass you because it's a long race. So, I started off slow.

Step two: find a running partner. A couple of my coworkers were runnig the race as well. Unfortunately for them they had not trained, so I kew they would not be good partners. They also started off very fast. The first leg of the race seemed flat, so almost everyone raced ahead. By the 7th kilometer I had caught and passed most of the people who'd raced ahead and I had a guy following my pace. I don't think it's possible to run 13 miles with out a partner. Your partner really helps push you on. Several of my patners fell behind, especialy on the bigger hills. But in some way or another I always had somoene running with me, helping me push on. My favorite partners were my students Danielle, Julio, and Melvin. Danielle and Julio were in the crowd and decided to run with me for a litte while and Melvin finished the race with me. When Danielle and Julio joined me, I was at a point where I wanted to slow down, but they reminded me that I am a PE teacher and so I must be faster. It was great.

Step three: remember your training. I spent over two months training for the race, not including last year's training. I had a couple of hickups. My shoes were stolen and I was sick a time or two, but overall my training went smoothly. And so when I was running up the big hills, not fast mind you, I knew I had run up bigger hills. And step by step I drew closer to the finish line. My training gave me the confidence to run fast when I was going down hill and the knowledge to conserve my energy by runnnig slower on the up hills. The best part was knowing I had run most of the harder sections during my training, so I knew I could do it. There's nothing like facing a challenge and knowing you have the skills to beat it. I don't think I could have finished without having trained for the race.

Step four: finish strong. Well, I tried this and it kind of backfired. I sprinted the last kilometer. I'm sure I looked good and strong while I was running, but I threw up afterwords. But as I was rounding the final bend I figured why not run as fast as I could, I mean I wouldn't be running again for a couple of weeks. Again without any training I couldn't have done this, but sometimes migraines just happen. Even though I was sick for four days after the race, I am glad I finished strong. I would rather give something my all and get hurt or sick than try something half heartedly. I finished the race and now I know that if I put my mind to something I can achieve my goal.

Step five: rest and repeat. I plan on running the Coban half marathon in May and so I'll probably follow all four of the steps I've mentioned above. I hope when I run in Coban I don't have to deal with a few of the things I have dealt with for the last two half marathons I've trained for. Hopefully swine flu doesn't rear it's ugly head and cancel the race again and most of all I hope no one steals my running shoes again. I would like a smooth training experience and a smooth race. But I guess I just need to remember that like life, running isn't always easy and the hard times will just make me stronger.