becka lippy

Im sitting in bed at the moment watching The Office with Magda. She's complaining that I'm not paying attention. We decided to make our own tradition for Christmas. We stayed in, made mac'n'cheese, and watched The Office. Of course, being the "old hags" that we are, we fell asleep quite  early. But overall it was a nice Christmas. I know it's not the normal traditional Christmas that one might expect. But living overseas, living far away from family, means you have to make your own traditions. So yesterday, Christmas Eve, is the day that chileans celebrate. Usually they all get together with their families, all cousins included. It's amazing to me how extended the families can get here. Somehow people end up siting at the Christmas dinner table with their half brother's wife's brother-in-law's daughter from his first marriage. That's not so much my case (yet). But I do have my own little version of "family" here.

I don't like goodbyes. I assume few people "like" goodbyes. But you would think that after so many moves to new countries, that I would be used to saying goodbye to people. But I haven't. This week I have to say goodbye to two dear friends of mine. Beth and Derek came to Chile to work with ISA (my church) for two years. Sadly, their two years have come to an end and this Saturday they will return to Australia. My relationship with them is funny. We never really hung out much outside of church stuff, but being on the equipo pastoral (pastoral team) together knitted us together in a special way. I have cried to Beth and shared parts of my heart with her that no one else has seen. And Derek has become more than a trustworthy advisor to me. On Friday I went to their going-away shindig at a club. A group of us from ISA went together and we danced and laughed and had a great time. But it was incredibly sad to remember why we were there. I know life will continue, but

I work and rest in a binge/purge fashion. Today was more of a rest day. I got some work done around my apartment this morning, dealt with a few work emails, and spent a good amount of time this morning up at the pool with my bible. It was pretty sweet. I read through part of Revelation, which we are going through in our church. And part of Hebrews, which we will be covering this year in the Lael conference. And I listened to a few sermons on Colossians. In one of the sermons, the pastor challenged us to examine our lives to see what stirs our affections toward Jesus, and what kills our affections toward Jesus. Interesting to think through... Normally, as a faithful workaholic, a pool day is not acceptable. But today, it was so nice to just spend the day with God, laying by the pool (with lots of sunblock mom!) and just enjoy His creation. For the most part I was alone at the pool and I would jump into the pool every half an hour or so. But I didn't jump elegantly, or cautiou

I assumed that as I got older, it would be easier to make decisions. But like so many other things in life, I was wrong. Life really only gets more complicated as we get older. More relationships to consider. More factors to come into play. More risks to be taken. When I first came back to Chile, I told my family to give me one or two years to get settled and then I would want to open my cafe, Tulips. In about a month, I will complete the two year mark in Chile. And I'm not really ready yet to open the cafe. The problem is that I didn't just settle in, but I took on responsibilities and projects that are now hard to give up. Hard to give up partly because of others' expectations of me, and partly because I love a lot of what I am doing. But it's gotten to the point of collapse in my life. I have too many things going on. Attention demanded in too many places. I've been asking my pastor for counsel on how to make decisions. I struggle with when to say no. Everyt

As I posted in a previous post, I got bit by a dog a few days ago and have been going through the rabies vaccine this week, just in case. Well, a little anecdote for the day: The nurse who gave me the shot yesterday had warned me that the hospital, which is really more like a clinic, would be closed today. Except for the delivery room. So I was told to ring the doorbell and the guard would let me in so a nurse in the delivery room could give me the shot. This morning I headed over to the clinic, and as expected the guard let me in and showed me where the delivery room area was. When I reached the waiting room, I found myself with a little family. An older woman dressed in the traditional peruvian clothing, with top hat and all. A few others sitting silently on a bench, staring at the wall. And a young man, pacing nervously across the room. I figured he must be the expecting father. I timidly explained that I was looking for the nurse. They all looked at my stomach. No, I'm not

In at the Starbucks along the Plaza de Armas in Cusco. It's my last night here and I'm trying to balance my desire to be home in my own apartment with what I know is a much needed time away from it all. I have been examining my commitments in life. My jobs (I have two part time jobs), my role in my church as a part of the pastoral team (although I'm not employed by the church, it's like another job), my dreams and desires. Everything. I've had too many "almost" burn-outs this past year. And for what? Because I don't know how to say "no"? Because I don't know how to balance the urgency with the need for rest? So this mini-vacation is good. It's good for me to get away. To be alone for a while. Even though a good chunk of my time here has been spent dealing with the rabies issue, I still know that it's been good for me. I've been able to just lay in bed and read. I've been able to go to sleep without setting my alarm. In

Well, there isn't actually anything beautiful about rabies. Nope. And thankfully I don't have rabies. At least I'm trying to make sure I don't. Let me start from a few days ago. Last Sunday I flew out to Cusco, Peru to meet up with my buddy Liz. She is traveling through South America and since I have been working too hard, I thought it might be good and healthy to get out of town (or even the country!) for a week. So I came up here with the plan of hiking and exploring a bit with Liz and then spending a few days alone, praying and journalling. It was going to be my much needed vacation. And well, it has been. Sort of. It turns out Liz and I are great traveling buddies. I figured we would be, but you never know. Sometimes friends turn out to be the wrong person to travel with. But Liz and I are quite similar in how we travel. So it was great to have the first four days with her. We explored around Cusco and other towns a bit, and even headed up Machu Pichhu on her las

Coming at you again with a new post from the convent. In fact, today I'd like to share with you some thoughts about life in a convent. Now, I've only lives here for 4 days. Not really a lifetime. But still, in these 4 days I've had a chance to reflect on life. One of my biggest conclusions is that I am not made out for the life of a nun. Besides the obvious reasons, I just don't like quiet. I miss noise. I miss people. There are beautiful rose gardens here. And everyone (even the men!) have been commenting on how beautiful the rose gardens are. But I crave my barrio. I miss the laughter, the music, the noise of excited conversation throughout the cafe lined streets.  This is my room. A small humble room, just a bed and a desk with a chair. It overlooks the rose garden. Yeah. I'm sure others would thrive off of this kind of retreat. Time to think. Time to reflect. But I was restless. I wanted to escape. The walls of the convent aren't high, but they are t

In my previous post, I talked about the great need for women to be trained in ministry. It has become one of my passions to see women trained and equipped in the gospel. More than 50% of the Church is women, and I think a lot of pastors would say that the women are quick to serve in really practical ways. Which is awesome. But we need to pastor our sheep, even the women, well and teach them to dig deep in the scriptures. Teach them to teach others to dig deep in the scriptures. Disciple them to disciple others. So often women are overlooked for leadership because we have this idea that only men can be pastors. Ok, even if you hold to that view (I personally do, but I have plenty of friends who don't) you can't deny that Jesus called us all the same mission. He made us all disciples. And He has given us gifts to build up all the church for ministry. Having said all this, I have to say that the Lord has doubly blessed me with my pastor. My pastor Cristobal does two things

I'm writing this post, from a convent, that's right a nuns' convent. No, I didn't join a convent. But I did come to stay here for a week of conferences with Fundacion Generacion. As I mentioned in a previous post, I took the job of executive assistant with the fundacion. And although the job is WAY more work than I expected, I am loving it. Planning conferences, especially church planting conferences, is really an ideal for me. It's the perfect blend of administrative and people work. It's abstract and concrete. And it's so diverse. So I've been planning these conferences over the last month or so. There are three back to back conferences, all surround the topic of training apprentices in the local church. And today, the first one took off. It's a group of 16 men. Men. And I say that because I'd like to take a moment to comment on what it is like, from my perspective as a woman at this conference. This conference is for leaders in the church

Today I had a moment of... nostalgia. Deep profound sentimental nostalgia. It hit me like a wave and even brought some tears with it. When I look back on my life, I am overwhelmed by how much I have been blessed with incredible girlfriends. Today, I'm missing one of them in particular. Ashlee. When we were in college we used to keep each other accountable. You know, our emotional integrity. How is your heart? And today is one of those days when I really wish she were here. We would sit over some yummy coffee and talk about life and God and our hearts. There are few people who get me like Ashlee does. And few people who have walked with me through so much. These kinds of friendships are nothing short of a blessing straight from the hand of God. And I know that God provides for me in every season of life. I have friends here now, and they are good friends. But they aren't quite Ashlee.

Sometimes for the sake of someone's good, we tell a half-truth. Right? But often this half-truth, which some might even consider a lie, can do more damage in the long run. I'm seeing that now with single women my age who grew up in the church. When I was 15, I made a promise before God, my parents, and my youth group leaders that I would remain a virgin till I got married. It was all the rage back then. Thousands of young men and women stood in front of their churches and made these promises. Some of us had the rings (I did!) and some of us went even so far as to have the "True Love Waits" bible (I didn't). But I can say this. It sure was popular and it was definitely pushed among American youth groups. This post isn't going to bash the movement, but to show its weaknesses. I'm glad I made that promise. I wore my purity ring for a solid 10 years before I retired it. Not that I broke the promise, but that I realized that the ring really didn't se

So as I mentioned in my previous post, I have joined the team at Fundacion Generacion, a church planting group that is working to encourage and support the church in it's training of pastors and planting of churches. They have hired me part time to work on the administrative side of the work. Which is a new venture for me, but it seems like a great way to use my gifts and talents for one of my biggest passions- church planting!  I'm leaving you guys with a few quotes from our website: www.fundaciongeneracion.cl I hope you take a moment to look through the website, and I'm sure you'll realize how cool it is what God is doing through this group here in Chile and the rest of Latin America.  Nuestra fundación Generación busca animar y apoyar a la iglesia en su labor de entrenamiento y plantación de iglesias. (Que Creemos) El ministerio reformado se caracteriza por su carácter solidario, es decir, el  apoyo mutuo entre congregaciones e individuos  para e

Yeah, I know, I know! It's been WAY too long since I posted here. I'm finally sick in bed (this happens when I go too fast for too long) and I want to take the opportunity to post a few thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head for a while. Since May when I last posted so much has happened. I found out that my program with the English institute finishes in October (which means I would be out of work for 3 months till the next year begins). I decided to try to move toward doing full time ministry with my church for a year or two which means raising support from friends and family back home.  I headed home to the USA to witness my dear friend Ashlee get married. I not only got to be in the wedding as a bridesmaid, but I even crashed their honeymoon for a day! I also got the chance to visit them once they were back home and settled into their new apartment.  I did a somewhat crazy tour of the states, trying to fit as many loved ones into a short 3 week visit. 

I've made my way over to Starbucks. Its a new Starbucks right smack dab in the middle of downtown. And its beautiful. It feels almost like a Peets Coffee. My schedule has slowed down a bit, which is good. I am no longer working 16 hour days. I'm no longer running from one thing to the next without time to breathe. I find myself walking slower, enjoying smaller things in life. I am trying to take life more slowly. Life in Chile moved more slowly. In fact, sometimes it seems like a snail's pace to me. I know its my gringa-ness that pushes me to not "waste" time. Like if I am in the middle of doing a certain task, and I run into an acquaintance on the street. Social norms here say that I have to fully stop, do the cheek kisses, ask how the person is, how their family is, and then, only then, after a solid two questions can I proceed with my errand. I'm learning to be okay with being a few minutes late. People come first. So I'm trying to move slower. Tryi

I think when I was younger, I assumed that life at 28 would be settled and almost boring. I mean, really, don’t you already have it all figured out by then? But we don’t, do we? When I look around, I see so many of my friends in very complicated situations. My heart rejoices with those who are getting their dream jobs and starting that special relationship they have wanted for so long. I grieve with those who are suffering with the tidal waves of rocky marriages and post partum depression. Life is just plain complicated. I’ve been thinking about what it means to grow older and how in our culture there is such a negative stigma with aging. It doesn’t take much cultural observation to see that our cultures (in the States and Chile) look down on aging. “Fight it!” the culture tells us.   There is something sad about getting old, seeing the years pass you by, your body doesn’t work as well as it used to. But in older (and wiser) cultures, there was honor i

A friend of mine just broke up with her boyfriend. I was chatting with her, trying to love her from afar. It got me thinking about my own break up oh so many years ago. I thought I'd take a moment to look back on some of the emails from my time with Jason. As soon as I typed in his name to search for those emails, I felt a wave of nausea rush over me. I pushed through it and opened the emails that held the conversations between Jason and me... far from love letters, but little notes that made me remember all that I felt for him. After a minute or two, I was so overwhelmed with nausea that I had to stop, close my computer and walk away. Such an intense reaction to reopening up the past made me wonder. What does it look like to move on? I'm not in love with Jason anymore (obviously). I still wish the best for him, hope that he is doing well, and somewhere deep in my heart I still love him. Given the chance to be with him again, no thanks. Yet, I have such a strong reaction to re

Yesterday I realized that I inherited something from my Mormor. "Mormor" means mother's mother in Swedish and it's what we call our grandmas in my mother's family. My mormor came over from Sweden when she was a girl. I have never been close to her. I hate to admit that when she died a few years ago, I was living in Chile and I was more upset about my mom being sad than the actual loss of my mormor. Part of my distance to my mormor might be geographical, she always lived on the other side of the country. Or it might have been other factors. But whatever it was, we never shared a close relationship. My mother told me stories about her. I knew she had been an archivist in the field of physics. I knew she had found love later in life with my grandpa John. I knew that the women in our family are strong and commanding women and that she was the root of that legacy. But I until yesterday, I hadn't realized that I had inherited something even more particular from my

I'm not sure where to start. First would be a confession that I am just plain BAD at keeping up this blog. It comes and goes in seasons. But I think often about what I would write if I did write a blog post. Some of the ideas are: -how I have little patience for other people's change but require others to be very patient with me. -how I have learned that I am more gringa than I want to admit and I might need to just stop fighting that -how I am learning to say "no" to various things in life (responsibilities that I tend to take on even though I don't need to) -what an incredibly sweet time I had on the church retreat this weekend and how God challenged me to count the cost of following Him and to believe that having Him truly is worth everything Those are just some of the ideas that come to mind. But for now... I'll head to bed. GOODNIGHT!

I've been hanging out a bit with my dear friend Kari. She is a missionary kid whose parents moved here to Chile from the States and Canada 30 years ago to work with the indigenous here. After growing up in Chile, but doing part of high school and all of university in Canada, Kari understands well what it means to be a Third Culture Kid (TCK). A TCK is a kid who has spent a substantial part of their formative years outside of their parent's culture. Many TCKs struggle with not knowing where their home is, not understanding which culture is theirs, and other areas of confusion. Kari studied psychology with the goal of working with TCKs who are transitioning into adulthood and the whole concept of TCK is often a topic of discussion between the two of us. I have recently been experiencing some cultural discomfort. Nothing too big. And not even really anything I can put my finger on. And maybe discomfort isnt the word to use. Maybe confusion is. A few months ago I was riding in th

This week has been a week of reality checks. One of the biggest has come from the news of this man, Youcef Nadarkhani , who has been sentenced to death in Iran. Why such a harsh sentence? Because he has refused to recant his Christian faith. Just writing those words sends a wave of emotion through me. I've never met this man, but he is my brother. It has been moving me to tears to think of the incredible place he is in. He is prepared to die for his faith. Not as a suicide bomber or recklessly throwing himself at death, but living out what the apostle Paul said, "to live is Christ and to die is gain." The incredible reality of the cross has so transformed the life of Youcef that he would rather die than deny it. But I don't cry out of despair. There is no despair here. Despair is the product of hopelessness. If my dear brother Youcef dies, I will suffer for his family, his two young boys and his wife, for those who will miss him for the next few decades be

I've "gone native" this morning. I slept in till noon. It's quite a feat for me but I think being on vacation this last week has helped. I was sick for a few days, low fever and congestion, but Im getting past it slowly but surely. I don't handle "resting" well. I don't like not doing anything with my day. So its been challenging to not be restless this week (even though I still had at least 3 hours of either church or teaching work each day). But last night, after getting home at 2am from a pastoral visit with a girl that I've been disciplng, I laid in bed and watched some tv, fully enjoying my alone time in my apartment. The truth is that over the last 3 years I've become quite a homebody. I'm afraid that it's going to result in even more selfishness and self-centeredness but the Lord has been faithful to give me plenty of opportunity to open my apartment, to chose to put someone else's need before my own. I have seen recently h

You'd think that I'd be proclaiming "Thank you Jesus!" for something really deep and profound, like salvation or life. You know, deep stuff. But no, while I'm grateful for the deep things, I'm SO grateful at this very moment because I just spent the last 3 hours searching high and low for my planner. When I realized this morning that I had lost it, I was frustrated and upset but figured I'd just have to get a new one. That was my attitude until I realized that I had a VERY important document tucked into my planner. A document that I need for my visa. One that would be VERY difficult to replace. So let's just say that when I realized what was at stake in finding this planner, I went into steroid search mode. I even made the long walk in the hot sun to the restaurant where my dad and I had lunch on Thursday, the last time I remember having it. With no avail. I wandered around the city, wondering what I would do if I couldnt find it. If I didnt feel so si

So I know its been a while since I've posted- but time FLIES!!! I was under this silly notion that January would be a slower month since its summer down here, but no. It was quite busy. December passed so quickly and then New Years catapulted me into a January that flew by. But now that we are in February, really, seriously, I want to take some time to slow down, reflect on the new year, on the last year, on the present. This post will be more about my time with my dad but I will write a few times this week to make up for the lost time. But first, some fun-ness with my dad!!! My dad came down here for two weeks. It was his first time in Chile so I wanted to show him my favorite parts of life here. We spent a week in La Serena, a town up north where I lived for my first 3 months here in Chile. We went to the wedding of my dear friend Fernanda. We visited Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. And we hung out in my town- Santiago. All in all it was a wonderful time to have my dad here. H