Santa Fe -catching our breath DAY TWO

Day 2 Thursday
The land out here is dry, arid, and minus the red earth- reminds me of the Australia desert I saw in NSW. All of the buildings here though are Adobe or Spanish style. It makes you feel like your somewhere else. Somewhere unrelated to (what I know) as the United States. A constant sea of textures in browns and tans with flecks of vibrant teal, purple, and red-orange doors, lampposts, and fences.
Today Beth took us to a little area of gallery’s called Canyon Road. Beautiful place. Blocks and blocks of Adobe and Spanish style houses; that have flourishing flower boxes, rock gardens, and little signs outside with the style of art, or artists work they display inside. Each house was easily converted into a gallery of displays, mostly fine art in southwestern style, giving respects to the Spanish, Mexican, Native American, and Cowboy influences here. Contrasts of colors, and patterns from the modern to the classic all over every one. Some places had paintings, some sculptures- actually many had bronze sculptures- some had installations. Actually Liz took us into this neat little gallery with the captivating art of a friend of hers, Randall Hasson. I encourage you to look him up, all the words I would use to describe his calligraphy paintings would not do the pieces justice. (www.randallmhasson.com)
Then it was on to eat- we had worked up an appetite. “Let me show you guys what genuine Mexican food really tastes like.” To Tomisita’s we go. We were led to a round wooden table clustered in the middle of a long, tall-ceiling’d room, among business and family patrons alike. Dried red chilies adorned the tan terracotta walls in long strings quite like bananas on a tree. If you know what that looks like. I don’t know- look it up. . . I trying to sound like I know what Im talking about- please just go with it. But the food, was amazing. We had Sopipias’, Mmmm with chicken and red and green sauce. A Sopipia is a delicious pocket of thin soft dough that can be stuffed or eaten alone. On the plate it was arranged with lettuce and salsa, drenched with the sauce. Beth ordered it as ‘Christmas’ because you can have green sauce, red sauce, or both. All you need to know is that it was just spicy enough, the chicken was tender and juicy, and it was GOOD! Oh- and our waitress also brought empty sopipias’ which, as Beth showed us, we drenched in honey found readily available on the table. Great to be with friends, like a long lost experience.
Matt, being the gentleman he is, figured Liz and I wanted some girl time. “All I want is to eventually hike up a mountain” he said, “So we dropped him off back at the base and I guess he went back and took a nap. Understandable, noting that the altitude here is 7,000 above sea level, all I know is that is a lot higher than home. Its wonderful for the weather, but can reduce the amount of oxygen in the air, potentially inducing tiredness to non-locals. So, we were off to a good o’ time. . . Actually we just ran some errands, picked up some magazines at the bookstore, discussed creative ideas about decorating. Elizabeth is so fun to talk to about those kind of things, because she has deliberately picked up on so many details she has seen in her travels around the world.
By this time its getting late. So we crowded around the TV and watched the news and worked on our computers. ‘Ding-dong’, a sound came from Elizabeth’s computer. Skype, a free communication program on her computer was calling. On the other side of that ring, a friend from Alaska and a mutual friend Canada. Two separate places, and with a computer camera, its like the doorbell just rang and your friends are right there. It was nice to catch up. It was a great way to end the night.

Santa Fe dry and fruitful - DAY ONE

Day1
Im writing the first morning after we arrived here in Santa Fe. Getting over the little amount of Jet-lag we have encountered, we are up bright and early. 8:30 here in this wonderfully dry desert, is 10:30 at home in good-ol green Pennsyltucky.
So yesterday- (you gotta hear this) we got up at my moms house, because she accepted the position as airport-driver and requested that we spend the night. We, or should I say I, was under the impression that our itinerary said Matt and I had to board the plane at eight. Right as we are going out the door, at 4am, Matt ’so conveniently’ discovered it said six. Now I have to inform you that having flown a few times before I knew that we had to be at the airport 2hours early because of the security changes that have been made- influenced by the events of September 11, 2001. I was just praying if it was to happen that we were to be on that plane, and that for some reason or another those fun little security changes would be a little shorter than usual. Shorter buy at least the 2 hours suggested you be there. We arrived at the terminal just as the plane was boarding. Some call it fate, some call it coincidence - I call that kind of miracle God. We made it!
I think getting on that plane meant soo much to Matt. It represented, growth, goals, and God working in our lives to get us to this point. I could see it on his face as we waited at our lay-over in Minneapolis, a content and quiet joy. We arrived in Albuquerque safe and sound, a little queasy, but content to have traveled together as couple. Elizabeth met us at the airport with hugs and a beautiful wide grin. On the way to the YWAM base she pointed out the names of distant mountains and we ended up stopping at this quaint, brightly colored, genuine 50’s vintage diner called the Route66 Diner. It was clean lined, adorned in pink, teal, chrome and black n’ white checkers. We excitedly caught each other up on life and happenings over sandwiches and great milkshakes!
We got to the ‘base’, otherwise known as Karen Lafferty’s house, the leader of the ‘base‘. Dropped our bags and met its current residents. An older mother and daughter duo, Virginia and Karen. Sweet ladies with lots of joy and wisdom. And Karen Lafferty also an older lady, (I‘ll share more about her later). Oh and when I say older I mean beyond our parents age, attempting to season my words with salt but give you an understanding of how it all comes off. Apparently we just missed a few others that usually work here, but conveniently so- because it left an empty bed.
Matt and I had dinner at Applebee’s with Beth and Karen Lafferty. We discussed our experiences in YWAM, and visions and goals about our future. Good conversation. It amazed me about how united and networked Youth With A Mission is. Karen, who has been part of YWAM for decades now, knew almost every leader I have ever met or heard of - all over the globe mind you. Karen came across very versed and professional, while encouraging and cautious with her words. This has been very good for Matt and I because we have been praying and asking God if getting involved with this base is in our future. As right now we are waiting on a direct word that we can stand on from the Lord.

Teaching Art for 2 years.

So this past school year,.. I couldnt say goodbye.

They were left with the impression that I would be back next year. "Have a good summer I said to them, I will miss you all so so much." A couple times I was asked in front of a few students if I was coming back next year. Stuck; I had to answer, and I saw some tears. It broke my heart as I explained why. The hugs were like bandaids, and I was growing numb.

ON A PROFESSIONAL LEVEL :The Elementary principal gave my evaluation on the last day I had classes. I was bracing myself for the bad news. We talked and shared stories for an hour or so. I was still waiting for the bad stuff, the real dirt. So I told her how I felt, what I was waiting for. She responded to me something like this ' No Steph we have loved having you here, and I from what the kids have said and brought back to my class, and what I've heard from the faculty I would have never known you didn't have a degree.' I'm sure she meant Art or Elementary Education degree. But she continued on to say 'And if you ever need a good reference...'. I was blown away- all year, through all of my mental, creative and emotional ups-and-downs; I would have never imagined to be told that.

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL: There are many memories and people I hope to never forget.
Never forget sitting with the highschool kids at lunch laughing it up, nights with Mrs. Hawk talking forever about each students memories and momentos, the different personalities of each class.

Here is a favorite story.

A boy named Adam, in the second grade who had a knack for crying on cue; had this year grown so so much, and I was quite fond of the fact he now looked forward to art class without tears.

Until a wonderful afternoon in February. Dun-dun-dun.

We were making heart animals, out of pieces of construction paper. Out of the corner of my eye I see him quickly squirming into that familiar uncomfortable posture again. I walked over and said "whats wrong Adam?"-

" I cant cuT any more hearts" as his folded piece of red paper became an unfolded water drop shape in his hands.

Frustrated tears began to stream.

"Sure you can, look at all of the wonderful hearts on your puppy.... You are doing a very good job soo far"

Just then his eyes opened wide and welled up with pools of new tears.

Much louder than before, with a wine" Its-not a puppeeeeee... *sniff* its-a kittyeeeeeee."

At this point the whole class is caught wondering at the corner of distraction and focus.

His heavy tears rolling.

Without thinking,... I turned my attention to the paper and spoke in the most sincere and playful voice I could find... .
"I AM so SO sorry Mr. kitty will you forgive me?"

A brief pause; and then. . . "meow- meow" from now presently grinning boy.

It was in an instant a switch had been flipped.

"Well. . . . He's your kitty. . . .Do you think that means he forgives me?"

"I think so", just then as he opened a freshly cut piece of paper- a heart shape appeared.

A smile appeared on his wet face.

"Will you be. . . ?" and before I could finish ('alright') he raised his hand toward me and flicked his wrist. . . contently shoo-ing me away. Those wide eyes now focused on his scissors rounding the bend, finishing the next heart in his plans.

That was the last time I saw him cry, and I was very proud of that moment of victory I got to share with him.

Welcome to my life.