From a Bad Attitude to Stomp Dancing

So it’s been a while since I’ve written anything and I’m sure that any of you who have made an attempt to keep up are wondering where in the world I’m at. Well, in short I am in Tahlequah, Oklahoma!
After a summer filled with many special provisions, amazing experiences, and many hard lessons I returned for my last semester of training at the MTC. This semester in advanced linguistics has been undoubtedly the heaviest semester academically of my entire training experience. But it is without regret that I’m still hanging in there. We have been given all the tools we will need to decipher and decode a completely unknown language both in the way it sounds and grammatically from start to finish! The final lacking piece is real live practice and experience. And that brings me to Oklahoma – “Native America” as the license plates read.
My classmates and I have re-located to a small, overgrown Cherokee Baptist Camp just outside Tahlequah for a period six weeks. During this time each of us will be meeting daily with a native Cherokee speaker. I will be gathering language material from Ord Dreadfulwaters, my language helper, in an attempt to decode the Cherokee language from start to finish!
Now, although this all sounds new, exciting, and much like an inviting challenge it hasn’t always been so. Upon arriving Friday, we had to somehow make sense of our new surroundings. This camp is not exactly what you might call a relaxing atmosphere and I must confess that as I was shown my quarters for the next two months my heart sank. I had a choice to make right then and there…and I made the wrong one. From then on all I could notice were the less than agreeable aspects of our new home. All I could voice was disappointment and criticism. I didn’t like all the trash hiding in the over grown grass or simply piled high between the neglected buildings. I didn’t want to clean the filthy bathrooms or put my sheets on the dirty mattresses. I didn’t like using the bathroom in stalls without doors, and why was there a cemetery in the middle of the camp? I didn’t like…
That evening we were invited to attend the Ketoowah Cherokee Stomp Dance and I reluctantly joined my friends. Somewhere in between all the chanting and intently watching the spiral of stompers endlessly circle the fire it donned on me: It wasn’t all about me. No, it is all about the One who loved me despite my selfishness. It is about the One who died for Me while I was still yet a sinner. It’s about the relationship I have with the One, the One who listens to all my whining and complaining and gently opens my eyes to what He is doing and gently invites me to participate if only I will lay down my self and take up the new life He has been trying to give me!
So, if you get a chance, and you remember could you pray for me during this time in Oklahoma? Pray that I would see beyond the circumstances and that this time will be profitable not only for me, but for all of my classmates as well. To those who have been faithfully behind me, thank you for all of your support and encouragement!