o-ri-en-ta-tion

August 13, 2010

orientation: (n) an introduction, as to guide one in adjusting to new surroundings, employment, activity, or the like.

First early morning thus far, looks like vacation is over. At 7:30 yesterday morning a truck arrived to drive us up the mountain. All of the teachers gathered in the office for morning devotional and prayer. Both were said in Spanish, therefore I didn't understand either of them. Mr. Lara gave an address to all of the teachers before he had us individually stand up and introduce ourselves. I tried my best in Spanish, hopefully I was understood. During introductions I noticed something; there are so many females. Do you ever notice that? Out of 9 new gringo teachers this year, only 1 is male. The general pattern that I have observed in my life is that females outnumber males in churches, mission trips, and elementary education. However, in high school and college there tends to be more male teachers than females. Why? My only guess would be that the maternal instinct within all females makes them more attracted to positions in which they are the care takers or teachers of younger children. As far as church and missions, I have no ideas.

Moving on. We split up into English and Spanish speaking groups for the rest of orientation. Rules, there are lots of rules. I started getting antsy sitting in the classroom where the temperature was climbing as the hours grew closer to noon. A break for a mid morning snack saved my stomach from digesting itself since there was no time for breakfast earlier. Some more orientation, some more rules, procedures, yadda yadda yadda. Lunch came and then… waiting, for what seemed like forever. All has been chaos this week for the administration in Gracias. The school has found itself short 2 teachers the week before school is set to begin. The administration actually pushed back the start of school date because of this. They have been arguing with Jake and the administration of the La Union school about wanting to keep Andrea and me in Gracias instead of sending us to La Union. So while they sit in the office and debate, those of us who are staying in the city (at the bottom of the mountain) wait. We were saved by the other teachers who had arranged for a truck to take them to town and back for a grocery shopping trip.

Once we were back in the city, the remaining hours of day were ours to do with what we please. Some more hammock time, nap time, and then out for a walk on the town. Jake showed us the old "haunted" church in town. Something about throwing a rock through a stained glass window, and Mary's eye. No stained glass windows in this church though. Another colonial church which I had seen last summer is next to the central park. After walking through the park somehow we stumbled onto Raquel's house (another teacher at the Gracias school) where Tabitha is staying. Within the 5 minutes it took us to walk from the tranquil park to Raquel's house an entire assembly had gathered in the park. All the sudden we turned around and there was a parade marching down the street. As we approached the parade we saw that not only was there a marching band, but hundreds of people, a stage and street vendors. The whole production assembled in less than 5 minutes. International Day of Youth was our best educated guess on what the cause of celebration was. We hung out for a while before retreating up to Guancascos. We talked over dinner about the teacher situation in Gracias. After which, Andrea and I contacted everyone we could think of that would possibly consider moving to Honduras next week to start a teaching job. The search lasted late enough…

This morning there was breakfast, sweet bread and papaya. LOVE the sweet bread, not so much the papaya. Orientation only lasted until mid morning break this time. The chaos and arguments continued over the whether or not Andrea and I would be staying in Gracias. I was ready to move to La Union. Posada Lenca is beautiful and we've been pampered all week HOWEVER, living out of a suitcase is only fun for so long. Our desires to settle in increased as our chances of leaving Gracias decreased. We happened to be around waiting again during these debates. I should have brought a book to school. We found a way back down to the city again and took lunch at, you guessed it, Guancascos. Jake joined us later wearing his battle scars in the expressions on his face. "We are going to La Union tomorrow," he said. He fought a good fight for us and won, releasing both Andrea and I from limbo.

There is a fort at the top of Gracias which we hiked to after lunch. It's beautiful, historical, and apparently serves as a make out "hot spot" for Honduran couples. You can see the entire city from within the fort walls. You can also see when bad weather is coming. We decided to hit the markets for some necessities before the rain arrived. My only necessity: Nutella. I also wanted to shop THE MARKET before heading back to the hotel but all that remains of it now is a pile of rubble and some outer walls. Not at all sure what happened in the 12 months since I've seen it, I only know that it is under reconstruction. For our last meal in Gracias we decided to mix things up and eat at the Chinese restaurant in town. Ordering Chinese food in Spanish was an experience. My stomach, currently readjusting to a Honduran diet, did not allow me to eat much, but the food was good none the less. It did, however, take 5 of us to not even finish a single order. For any future travelers, the serving sizes at this restaurant are mountainous.

Of course the night before we are scheduled to make a 2 1/2 hour trip through the windy, hilly and all dirt roads to La Union, the rain is merciless. The storm was nice to fall asleep to though…

va-ca-tion

August 11, 2010

vacation: (n) a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel.

Vacation would be the best way to describe my time in Honduras thus far. I woke up yesterday morning and had forgotten what country I was in.

Guancascos, owned by a Dutch woman named Froni, is a beautiful restaurant and hotel down the street from us where we eat all of our meals. We finished breakfast around 10 and wondered around downtown Gracias. The cloudless sky brought on the merciless sun. The heat here is much different than the heat in Michigan or even San Pedro Sula. Humidity levels are low up here in the mountains which makes escaping the heat as easy as stepping into the shade of mango tree. Walking the streets in the midday sun, the temperature wasn't far below 100 degrees. When sheltered from the sun it dropped to the mid 80s.

We all bought new cell phones before lunch. My previous Honduras cell phone had been de-activated after not using it since last July and the charger is also missing. So by the time I bought a new charger, a new chip, and paid someone to install the chip and reactivate my phone, it was cheaper just to buy a new one. So I bought a $15 Samsung phone. It's about as big as an iPod nano but it does exactly what I want it to; it makes phone calls and sends text messages.

We did some more browsing in the stores before retreating out of the heat back up to Guancascos for lunch. It is now my goal to try everything on the menu this week before leaving Gracias. After lunch, dark grey clouds provided relief from the heat of the day. In the rain we rode in trucks up the mountain to visit the Gracias Vida Abundante School. The school is absolutely beautiful. The arrangement of the classrooms, office buildings and the landscaping is a romantic, Honduran picturesque. Of course the backdrop to this K-10 paradise is Mt. Celaque, the highest point in all of Honduras. I won't lie, I am completely jealous of anyone who gets to teach here. Walking distance from the school are about 4 houses we toured for the people staying here to teach. Maggie and Tyler chose house #1 just down the hill from the school. It sits alone surrounded by tropical vegetation and just 100 yards from the river. Laura Beth, Jennifer, Caitlin, and Shelly chose house #4 up the hill from the school near the national park entrance. It was the largest of the houses with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, and 2 living rooms. The inside is painted a bright, sunshine orange, and is by far the nicest house we'd seen.

Satisfied with the housing, we all returned to town for some down time before dinner. For me this mostly consists of reading in the hammock which hangs from the porch of the hotel. The backdrop during dinner time was a thunderstorm over the city which of course called for walking in my new yellow rain boots.

For some reason being lazy pampered yesterday was tiring. I struggled to get out of bed this morning. It was cloudy and therefore cool most of the day today, and by cool I mean around 85 degrees. Before lunch we all had to set up bank accounts here in Gracias. 8 bank accounts took 3 1/2 hours to set up. Bank lobbies here are much more secure than bank lobbies in the U.S. At least 3 armed guards were in the bank at a time. Mostly 2 on the street level, 1 at the top of the stairs guarding the door and 1 inside the bank guarding the other side of the door. Think about it, at a bank in the US ANYTHING could happen at any time. Here, if you tried to pull something you'd probably be shot immediately.

After lunch those teaching in Gracias packed their bags to move into their new homes. Of course they were all ready to leave hours before their ride actually showed up to drive them up the mountain. This DELAY is known as Honduran time. Never count on anything to actually be on time. If someone says they will be there to pick you up in an hour, you will wait for 2. A scheduled meeting starts at least 30 minutes late. In this case we sat on top of suitcases for about 2 hours. Andrea and I stuck around to help load the trucks then said hasta luego so we could get back to some more hammock time.

In the evening we traveled to Los Aguas Thermales del Rio, the private hot springs in Gracias. It may have been the most beautiful and romantic place I have ever seen. Set far outside the city, down the mountainside into a valley is an entirely secluded haven of hot water. The hot water is fed into pools of all different temperatures, each surrounded by tiki torches and beautiful gardens. The romantic mood shifted quickly with a game of "keep it up" and some hand stand contests. Dinner was served in a sheltered picnic area after a couple hours of play. Another lightning storm lit up the sky and we watched as we filled our stomachs.

After being brought back to our hotel my work in Honduras thus far could only be described in one word, vacation.

re-turn

return: (v) to go or come back, as to a former place, position, or state.

Though I had recognized the places, the language and the scenery, it was the smell that brought me back. I've heard before that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. Today the smell of burning garbage, Honduras dirt, and burning diesel brought my memory back to the country I left just over a year ago.

Andrea was the first teacher I met. We were both checking into our flight at the same time, which caused a computer error. She was at the next counter and said hello, recognizing me from my facebook profile picture. Computer error cleared and we proceeded to security. Andrew and I dragged our goodbye through the entire security process, finally saying goodbye once I had made it through the metal detectors and re-gathered my belongings from the x-ray machine. I assure you it was a long, hard and dramatic goodbye, and it took me at least another 30 minutes to stop crying. But I got it all out, so moving on...

While waiting at the terminal Andrea and I were approached by a sales woman for Spirit Airlines offering 3 free flights if you sign up for this and buy that and only travel on these dates, bla bla bla. We politely declined using the entirely truthful excuse of, "We're moving to Honduras... today." She couldn't believe it because she had just talked to another girl who had just told her the same exact story. That's when we met Maggie and her husband Tyler. We all sat separately but not far from each other on both of our flights. Andrea and I talked to Jeremy from Ohio most of the flight, telling him about how awesome Michigan is. Out my window to the right was the sunset and to the left was a giant thunderstorm sitting over a night time city, all in the same window view from 6,000 feet in the air. Our layover in Ft. Lauderdale was extended due to plane delays, which landed us in San Pedro Sula, Honduras around 2:30am eastern time, 12:30am Honduras time. Another smooth flight with a spectacular lightening show over the city as we landed. After immigration, customs and driving to the hotel it was 4:30am Eastern Time before my head hit the pillow.

The next morning we met 3 more teachers for breakfast Caitlin, Jennifer and Shelly. The short walk to the restaurant in the hotel was enough to remind me how intense the heat and humidity of San Pedro Sula is. On that note, we took the rest of the morning to enjoy the pool. Not as refreshing as we hoped since the water was about 80 degrees, but it did the job. We also took full advantage of the waterslides and water mushroom in the play pool. At noon we checked out of the hotel and drove to the airport where we picked up Tabitha, Jake and Laura Beth. Crossing the parking lot of the airport I recognized the dark blue Toyota pickup truck parked in the drive. I ran up to Albin and gave him a great big hug. Patrick was on the passenger side and peeked around to see what was going on. They were dropping of the UMF interns at the airport as we were coming to pick up the rest of the teachers. Everyone had lunch inside, I binged on Wendy's. Not something I would normally do in the states, to be honest I'm not sure why it was so appealing then and I felt like a whale afterward. So with a bloated stomach I boarded the bus along with 9 other teachers to start our journey to Gracias. I started to recognize the smells again. The mixture of dirt and dust from the city and mountain streets, the smell of burning garbage and of course diesel fuel from the bus, is a very Honduran smell. It was the smoothest drive through Honduras I have ever had though with paved roads the ENTIRE way. The heat subsided as we ascended into the mountains. I was mesmerized by the scenery once again and it moved me to considering an extra year in Honduras. As we came around the side of another mountain we could see the black sky ahead with a rainbow in the foreground. We drove right underneath the full arch of colors into a storm of lightning and flash flooding. It wasn't long until we arrived in Gracias. After settling into our hotel, Posada Linca, we walked down the street to Guancascos for dinner. The 10 of us were joined by a handful of staff from the Gracias school. It was close to 11pm before we returned to the Hotel to shower and...

Goodnight

slice

slice: (n) a part, portion, or share

A few weeks ago when I was in Ann Arbor to play for the worship band at my church, I was asked to share my "slice of life" with the church. Yesterday was the day. I believe the intro goes like this: "Every week we invite a member from New Life Church to come up here and share what God's been doing in their life. And here today to share a slice of her life is Amelia Klos."

"Good morning!

My name is Amelia Klos. I am part of the "graduated from college and now live at home with my parents" new life team. That's not a real new life team, though maybe it should be…
I graduated from UofM just a few months ago with my bachelor's degree in architecture and am living with my parents for the summer BECAUSE in 3 weeks I am moving to La Union, Honduras.

During my 5 years of college God has orchestrated a phenomenal but seemingly "random" series of connections in my life. Those connections led to great friendships and incredible adventures.

While picking up a friend at a sorority party I met, my now boyfriend, Andrew Boyd. The next day we bumped into each other again at that same friend's tailgate party. He talked to me the entire morning about one thing, Honduras. At the end of the conversation he said I should go on this trip he was planning there the next summer. I looked at him and told him he was crazy.
Four months later the two of us sat in my parents' living room while Andrew tried to convince my mom that I would not be kidnapped in Central America.

I spent the summer of 2009 in La Union, Honduras as a part of the "2009 Honduras Research Team." It was my first out of country experience and I had no idea what to expect. There were 22 students on the research team. Most of us were from UofM and quite a few from New Life. We lived at a church compound in town. La Union is a small rural town in the mountains. There, you are hours from a paved road, there is no such thing as a street address and it is anyone's guess whether or not the water or power will be working that day. Still I fell in love.

We spent every day from sun up to sun down hiking around the even smaller surrounding villages conducting research. We had to interview every person in every town surrounding La Union. In other words, we had a lot of talking in Spanish to do, a language very few of us spoke.
So, we hired translators. They were the 6th and 7th grade students from the private bi-lingual school in town. The school is affiliated with the church we lived at and the students speak fluent English and Spanish. It was obvious that these kids were the lucky ones in town. They either came from families could afford to send their kids to school or had found sponsors to help with tuition.

It was a privilege to spend the summer with them. Gloria and Nelsy were the girls I became closest with. We had a lot of hiking to do between houses, which left plenty of time for talk. I learned so much about their lives last summer and how drastically different age 13 looks like for them than it did for me. How for boys the alternative to school is work in the coffee fields and for girls its marriage. How when these girls finish school they will be the FIRST students in their town to complete all 12 years of high school. How even owning a book is a privilege. I found THIS out from Nelsy.

In a village called Quiscamote, Nelsy and I sat on a rock while we waited for our truck ride home. She showed me her drawings and told me about her friends, school and boys. I had a book in my bag for down times like this. She saw it and told me about books and how there are none for kids to read in La Union. My heart was broken.

Quiscamote was towards the end of the summer and a few weeks later my time in Honduras was over. I returned to school in the fall for my last year of college and was completely Honduras sick. I spent more time thinking about Honduras than searching for internships or jobs or grad schools. My heart was no longer in architecture, it was in Honduras. This feeling and distraction did not wear off as school continued like I hoped. In fact it got worse. God put Gloria and Nelsy on my heart and it was heavy. They were all I could think about for months. Architecture no longer seemed to matter, nothing did but going back there.

I kept in contact with a teacher from the school. I questioned him daily about teaching in Honduras. Again I found myself in my living room talking to my parents about Honduras. This time it was different and much more difficult. After 5 years and tens of thousands of dollars in student loans for architecture I wanted nothing more than to be in a "third world country…" as a teacher.

After a few long hard months of prayer, soul searching, and talking with my parents, I applied, interviewed and was offered a job. It took me about a half a second to accept the job I was so excited. But my plans in Honduras do not end there. Architecture will always be a part of me and it is not something I will give up on. My career in architecture is just getting a unique start. The conversation with Nelsy made a lasting impression on me and so I am co-leading a project to build a library in La Union next summer. To bring books to kids who have none.

3 weeks from today I will be getting on a plane back to Honduras. I will be teaching 5th grade at Vida Abundante Christan School in La Union.
And that's a slice of my life!"

yel-low

yel-low: (n) a color like that of egg yolk, ripe lemons, etc.; the primary color between green and orange in the visible spectrum, an effect of light with a wavelength between 570 and 590 nm

In high school I LOVED the color blue. EVERYTHING that could be blue, was blue. Clothes, bedroom, bed, bathing suits, etc. Blue carried over into college. Junior year I transferred to the University of Michigan where, while shopping at Ikea for new bedding and apartment necessities, blue faded to red. The romance with red lasted until the following summer when a green purse started a new love affair. And then there was Yellow. There was no "ah ha" moment with yellow. A few years ago I splurged on a yellow Roxy bikini and I've been flirting with the color ever since. The occasional yellow bouquet of flowers from Andrew, a yellow shirt, etc. Perhaps the depression of being locked in the architecture studio for 2 years spurred a desire for something bright and cheerful in my life. My favorite bachelorette Ali sealed the deal. When she premiered on The Bachelor she wore a beautiful yellow gown. As the season went on we found out her favorite color was yellow, and it showed up in all of her adorable yellow outfits. After the season ended, flirting with yellow became more and I fell in love. I began hunting for a new purse, a yellow purse. The criteria: bright yellow, leather, soft, shiny. About a month later I received a picture message of a bright, yellow, shiny, soft leather purse from a girlfriend who was on a shopping trip with her roommate. That was my purse. I jumped online to look for it, NOTHING. I searched around downtown shops, stores, malls and still came up empty handed. It seemed the more I shopped the less yellow there was all together!

Saturday was my birthday. I celebrated with my family the night before with a dinner date and Baskin Robins ice cream cake. I spent the following day with a few friends on the lake wake boarding and wake surfing. Andrew was denied his request for time off and did not arrive until the bonfire later that night. The fire did not last long, most of us were exhausted from all the fun in the sun. Andrew helped me clean up around the fire pit then instructed me to wait for him in the kitchen. I would have fallen asleep on the counter if it wasn't for all his rustling and bustling in the living room. He took my hand and led me to a huge display of yellow. Yellow flowers, two yellow gift bags with yellow tissue paper, and three yellow boxes. Inside each package was a yellow purse! Each bag was filled with a NineWest purse and each box with a COACH purse. That's right, 5 yellow purses and for my birthday I got to choose one. The "picture message purse" was among the quintet which should have made my choice easy, right? WRONG! Even Andrew knew that choosing a purse would be difficult for me, I'm not the fastest decision maker. So I started the process of elimination. One purse was leather, but not soft or shiny or bright. The next to go was a COACH purse with brown and yellow signature fabric. There were two leather purses left, both bright, both shiny, but only one was soft. So then I was left with the "picture message purse" from NineWest and a COACH purse. The dilemma...

I have never in my life considered buying COACH. Why? Most COACH purses cost about $300. A, I cannot afford a $300 purse. B, if I could afford to spend $300 on something, it would most certainly not be a purse. I've also never really been one for brand name merchandise. At 11 years old, when brand names started to matter, I was not skinny enough or wealthy enough to buy clothes at Abercrombie and Fitch. I teased my shopaholic, size 0 sister whose entire wardrobe spelled A&F, out of my own insecurity. I built my defense claiming that I did not need to be a walking label to be cool, have friends, or fit in. Especially when I realized how ridiculous my peers looked showing up to school wearing the same $50 graphic T as the person sitting next to them. I lived by the anti brand name priciple for some time, and in some ways I still do.

I had made up my mind. The yellow leather purse, the "picture message purse", the purse that fit my criteria would be the purse for me. I put the COACH purse back in the box and closed the lid.

So why did I pull it out the next morning? I took the stuffing back out of the purse and filled it with the things from my old black purse. Everything except for my car keys went into the purse, and it was tight. I put the purse on my shoulder and turned toward the mirror. SO CUTE. This purse, though not shiny and leather, is yellow and adorable! Something is drawing me back to this purse, simultaneously something is also holding me back from saying yes to this purse. Back to square one. I asked my mom, sent picture messages to my sister, I even asked my brother. I asked Andrew, who teased me even though he KNEW this would happen. "If it helps," he said, "I did not spend $300 on those COACH purses, I got quite a deal." Nope, not helping, though I was relieved to know that he had his head on straight enough not to spend $300 on a purse for me. He even suggested that I just buy the cheaper one and keep them both. DEFINITELY not helping! I do not NEED two purses, though I do want both. I would never buy COACH for myself, but this is a gift. The leather one is so fun, the COACH one is so pretty. The COACH one doesn't really fit all my stuff, why do I carry so much crap in my purse anyway? The COACH one is yellow fabric and will get dirty, the leather one is yellow leather and will get dirty. If I don't get it now, I will probably never own a COACH purse again in my life, do I really care about owning COACH? The leather one is everything I wanted in a yellow purse, I didn't know I wanted this other purse.

It all seems trivial though doesn't it? How blessed am I that my biggest dilemma this week has been which yellow purse I should choose as my birthday gift? How blessed am I that my boyfriend went PURSE SHOPPING for me and found 5 yellow purses for me to choose from? Kudos on that, by the way.

As of now I still have not decided on a purse...

band

band: (n) a group of instrumentalists playing music of a specialized type

Within the first few months of moving to Ann Arbor, I was invited to be a part of a small worship band at a church I had started attending. The band proved to be an extremely valuable experience in my life. These musicians were the first friends I made in this strange new city. The band lasted until summer vacation split us apart to all ends of the globe...

During our time together, I had the privilege of making music with a particularly talented musician and wonderful friend named Matt. Matt was the baby of our band. A college freshman at the time who commuted from home, took as many credits per semester as the university would allow, worked a full time job and managed his own band, Avienne. On our way to play at a different church, we stopped by Avienne's band practice to pick up Matt and some sound equipment. Turns out Matt was the "grandpa" among his band mates who were all still attending high school. We caught the tail end of practice and were able to hear a song. I was floored, and absolutely speechless...

I immediately fell in love with the band and became #1 fan until the chaos of architecture school consumed my life. None the less, I have been able to witness this band evolve from their basement and backyard shows to a headlining musical phenomenon. They won the 2008 Detroit Battle of the Bands competition which led them to perform at the Arts Beats and Eats festival in Pontiac. Their career launched from there. Avienne has played dozens of shows and has now released their second album Dreams Lies Revolution. They have also been featured on local Detroit news stations and papers.

Their most recent accomplishment has been winning the national semifinals for the Ambassadors of Rock Contest. They are now among the top 10 finalists from all of North America in the running to be sent to London to play with Paul McCartney on stage. I fully support this band and believe in everything they do. They are an incredibly talented group of young musicians and absolutely amazing people. I would like to invite you to support Avienne by voting for them in the final stages of the Ambassadors of Rock Contest.
http://battle.ambassadorsofrock.com/avienne/
This link will direct you to the voting page. Enter your name and e-mail and click vote. You must click the link on the confirmation e-mail in order for your vote to count. I assure you, you will not be bothered with junk e-mail after voting (I'm always cautious about giving out my e-mail address).

To hear more of Avienne's music, and the song that made me fall in love with them (The Beautiful Broken People), you can visit their website at http://avienne.com/
or their MySpace page http://www.myspace.com/aviennemusic

Best of luck to Avienne, and God bless.

flake

flake: (n) an unreliable person; someone who agrees to do something, but never follows through

Like me.
I wrote over a month ago that I would be back in a week and completely flaked out. Sure I have excuses, want to hear them? Of course you don't! But I am going to tell them to you anyway. Final exams, final review, 2 college graduations, moved home, started work, 3 day architecture conference, cousin's baptism, a visit from Andrew, Andrew's sister's graduation, another cousin's open house. There, aren't you glad you know how busy I was? No. Truth is, you were probably more busy than I was. Do you understand why I have not written? Sure, I have excuses. Does it change he fact that I told you I would write and I didn't? Absolutely not.

Yesterday I spent the day at the beach with my mom. We are having record high temperatures this week, all I want is to be near the water. Ideally when I go to the beach I like to swim and sun bathe ALL day. Circumstances yesterday were different however and we left the beach after only 4 hours of sun. I was not too reluctant to leave. It just so happened to be the day of the Great Lakes Kite Festival, which is now my new least favorite day of the year. I love everything about the beach, EXCEPT for kites. Mini hang gliders with sharp pointed noses attached to a string placed into the hands of a 7-year-old who pulls and twists the kite causing it to whip and zip through the air. I flinch every time I hear that buzzing sound as the kite dive bombs out of the sky and crashes into the sand. I wonder how many people are injured by kites each year?

I had made other water related plans for when I returned home. "Just come on over," he said. I always call first. One time I did just come on over, different guy, but the result was a super awkward, non-fun day, and a waste of gas. So I called and plans got pushed back for dinner, not a problem. I ate dinner with my mom and waited for another call... nothing. 3 and a half hours later I got a text, "sorry, it's late now, maybe next time." I thought to myself, "that's not like him." Then I remembered that this very thing had happened before.

We've all been there, on both sides of the coin. Every one of us has flaked out on someone. A friend, a family member, a co-worker. And we've all felt the pain and frustration of being flaked out on. It leaves us with a very empty feeling inside. The hope and anticipation of spending time with someone, or doing something you couldn't wait to do, or receiving a favor... and then nothing. NOTHING. Emotion, excitement, build up, and suddenly the rug is pulled out from under you.

A significant person in your life decides to skip out on celebrating your big day, whatever that day may be. Money's tight, work is busy, something came up, they'll make it up later. You understand, right?
An old friend apologizes for being so absent in your life and promises to change, to spend time with you, to return your calls. A year later they deliver the same apology. They got caught up in their own life, this time they mean it though, promise.
A family member agrees to help you with a project. They forget, they're too busy, they forgot supplies, we'll do it tomorrow, there's too much else going on. You'll just have to understand and be patient.

But does the excuse really matter? Does it change the fact that the special someone in your life took away some of the special from your day? Does it make you feel less disappointed? Does it change the fact that your friendship has yet to rekindle? Does it make you trust their apology? Does it change the fact that you cannot depend on the word of your kin? Does it change the fact that you were depending on them to come through? Does it change the fact that you waited around hoping because you had faith in someone, only to be flaked out on?

So why are these people still a part of our lives? Shouldn't we end things with people who make us feel this way, with people who we can't depend on? We've all been flaked out on by the same people over and again, so why not cut ties?

Ever wonder what God must feel like? How many promises do we make to God that we cannot possibly keep? When we flake out on God, He feels the same pain that you and I feel when someone flakes out on us. He even knows that we will flake out on Him before we do it, but God never cuts ties with us. Instead, He gives us grace. Why? Because for some crazy reason, God loves all of us flakes unconditionally.

Love the flakes unconditionally and grant them your grace.