Freshly-baked, organic breadcrumbs from local farmers' whole grain wheat.

A common theme in my relationship with God is whenever I come to breaking point and altogether determine to give up, He throws me some bread crumbs. Kinda like Elijah fleeing in the dessert, I resolve to lie down and die, and God gives me just enough to keep going. Thus my experience the past few days:

Amazing Grains (Indeed!)

Sunday morning, I spent my blog time whining about food. To the point of tears in the cafeteria, I've learned to hate salad bar and overcome my taste aversion to humus just to widen my options. After lunch, I escaped the campus and went for a 2-hour bike ride, beginning and ending in downtown metropolitan Grand Forks. I decided to give my ass a rest and explore the "city" a little when out of the corner of my eye, I caught "local produce" in a store front. As I approached, a hippie chic sign greeted me, "Amazing Grains, Local Food Cooperative" And for the second time that day, tears rimmed my eyes over food. But this time, tears of joy. There, in GF's town center was a mini version of the East End Food Coop, just for me like a magical wardrobe into Narnia! Inside was a bulk food and spice section, organic foods, and fresh baked goods. I wandered the tiny store, equipped with cafe that served daily made soups and vegan goodies like baba ghonush. The store's existence is miraculous to me indeed, but alas, I still have no kitchen to cook in, so most of its treasures I must leave behind. I did, however, stock up on a nut-filled trail mix so to get some protein, local honey to ward off my allergies to North Dakota, and of course, Blue Chips!

I felt the need to explain my great show of emotion to the store to the hippie looking kids behind the counter. We striked up a conversation, and I learned about the urban garden a couple blocks away, the Beehive-esque "Urban Stampede Cafe" and where these people of my people hang out. The discovery of the food coop was both relieving and healing--to have some place familiar and offer relief from the cafeteria--but also amplifying the isolation I felt at SIL--I had to find places and people outside of the program to easily relate to and feel understood.

Prayer Group (An Answer to Prayer)

Monday morning and afternoon only exasperated this feeling. In one of my morning classes, we discussed SIL's negative reputation among the wider linguistic academic community for sloppy fieldwork and hoarding its data. I had encountered this attitude during my undergrad as well. The same fact popped up again in my afternoon class. At this point, I raised my hand and asked the instructor, "If SIL is aware of this reputation, are there any efforts to change this by making data available?"

Bad idea. Evidently, this was taken as an attack, which many in the room reacted strongly to. The TA launched into a list of justifications as to why data may be "sloppy" and "there are translation deadlines and people dying" as to why they don't publish. Two other students jumped in to defend the virtues of SIL and how it prioritizes translating God's Word over publishing academic works. The lecturer, at this point, graciously stepped in and commented that they're differing views. "People go into the field for different reasons. For example, those of you who want to enter the field primarily to do linguistic research raise your hands."

I brandished my arm like a lone surviving soldier emerging after a battle. A guy across from me started his hand toward the ceiling but in realization of its isolation, quickly waned and added comments of academic research not really being his priority but only a small part. "Ok, ok. 3 out of 16 (I didn't see the third). Now those entering the field for translation." 14 arms leapt into the air. Quite the demonstration of my perceived minority status.

The surface differences I had been able to put aside (I have a tattoo, they wear Family Christian bookstore t-shirts). But the sheer ideological difference seemed crushing at the time. It appeared that the general consensus was Bible translating was superior to linguistics research as one was Godly and one was wordly. SIL prioritized God, and academia served another god (the devil!). This hand-raising experiment confirmed some of my greatest fears about the summer.

I fell into two good conversations afterwards which soothed me slightly, but I still felt the outsider among holy-ordained insiders.

Throughout the day, I had seen fliers for prayer groups based on floor gathering that night. To be honest, I haven't been gun-ho about finding a church out here nor about attending the chapel sessions either. But the prayer group seemed right up my alley: I led the one at HMB along with Elise, small group, intimate setting...this might be exactly what I was looking for. Flier said to meet at 9 by the bulletin. When 9 rolled around, OK--when 9:07 rolled around, I was there, to find 2 other women (side note: "women" sounds too old, "girls" sounds too young, "ladies" sounds like someone ought be "holla-in at us." what do i say?).

Within minutes Amy and I were exchanging kale recipes and I was feeling good about my decision to show up. We went to Amy's room to pray and get to know each other. Amy is hippie after my own heart! Not only does she have the same food preferences as me, she has them for the same reasons. She's cut from HMB's cloth for sure and just from the way she prayed and what she prayed for, I could tell we have extremely similar theologies. Sallie confined that she loves linguistics, but isn't sure about the whole Wycliffe and Bible-translating thing.

"Thank God! I always felt like I was the only one who didn't fit in here," exclaimed Amy. Here I had found some folks who got me. We encouraged one another that following God didn't exclusively mean missions and Bible-translating, despite the proliferate ideology of the atmosphere at SIL. We prayed for the non-believers that they may not be burned, isolated, or put off by the "super-believers" shall I say, but instead that they'd fall into conversation with us. Not that we might convert them, but that they may know they're not the only ones who feel like outsiders among the Bible-thumpers.

The whole conversation was completely healing and somewhat redeeming for the day's prior experiences. Furthermore, the time of prayer was the most I've connected with God since coming to ND, in that case, for a while. the only bitter-sweetness, why these new found friends are just breadcrumbs, is because I have no classes or activities outside of prayer with either of them.

But nevertheless praise God indeed for breadcrumbs, for His sustaining us when we're ready to say "Eff it, I'm effing done with this!"

Continue to pray for my time here:

1) As I have quiet times studying God's Word for what it means to find our identity in Him

2) That all my conversations would be seasoned, nay, filled with grace.

3) For time management, and

4) My stomach, as I've had more "bwgrkl" here than in Mexico and almost as bad as Cambodia.

5) Crappy internet connection that makes is extremely difficult to post and stay up on emails.