Issue 3 Volume 63

Welcome to

#BURMANU

#BURMANU

Relevance

Health

Devotional

creative

editor’sMessage

studentmissionaries

Media

What’s InsidePresident’sMessage

3

Introverted Witness

What Impression Are You

Leaving

Am I Connected?

Tales from the Midtown Cafe

A True Heart

The Cucumber School

781011

Gym Chronicles

Smoothie

Mikele Wile

Kaylie Copeland

Which Study Album are You?

141620

5

Contributors

Nisha Johny Kaitlynn Symonds Sasha Hamilton Spencer Page

STAFF

editor-in-chiefRebekah Maurice

Creative editorshenda chimwaso

Creative editorjendayi ferary

relevance editorrechelle smith

Media editorbianca baston

life editorashia lennon

illustratorjacqui mccarty

andrew orpana Jennifer laan mikele wile kaylie copeland

Nisha Johny Kaitlynn Symonds Sasha Hamilton Spencer Page

This past week, my Facebook newsfeed was graced by the various College grad pictures posted by my friends and ac-quaintances, celebrating the fact that the long year of toil-ing in University was coming to a glorious end soon! Well, for some, it was just a precursor to more grad pictures after completing more degrees but hey, it’s still a commendable achievement. I myself have been debating as to whether or not to post the pictures that I took with the borrowed cap, gown, roses, and mandatory coy smile but it just hasn’t hit me that I’m going to be done soon. That we are all done soon.

And the thing that stood out to me as I scrolled through the pictures of boys holding up skateboards and guitars and girls sitting with books and signs that all read “IM DONE!” was the word ‘CHANGE’. In caps. Bolded. Standing out, staring me in my face. These were the people that I had been in class-es with for the past four years. These were the people that gained that freshmen 15 that they now have lost. These were the people that I’ve seen grow and change into beautiful men and women, ready to take on the world as soon as they say “I do” to receiving the diploma during Grad weekend..wait, those are weddings…sorry!

Either way, there I was. Looking at change happening at its best, scrolling through it all with my fingers. Glancing across, I saw freshmen. I saw new students that are excited about their journey here at Burman and I smiled to myself, almost

maleficent. Only because I know all about the metamorpho-sis that is happening to them already.

Change. Even nature has beguiled us with the new colours that are fading away already; the reds, the browns, the yel-lows. The winter breeze is here and we’ve got to put on more and more layers to survive the trek between the different buildings on campus. We experience change everywhere, whether it be in relationships, government, you name it. And yet, only one thing remains constant.

God’s love! Yes. God’s love. Everything is undergoing the nat-ural flux of motion - You, me, our hormones, our feelings, our reactions, our grades, bank balances, our motivation levels, our friends. EVERYTHING IS CHANGING. Except for God and his love for you. During this time of stress, ago-ny, excitement, anticipation, pumpkin spice lattes, and plaid, one thing remains to take care of you amidst the chaos. God asks you to lean on him completely because he loves you and wants you to know that you are the same to him, no matter what.

So, continue to be YOU at Burman! And know (and savour) the fact that God is here for you, unchanged and constant.

- Nisha Johny

president’s message

5

STAFF

relevance editorrechelle smith

andrew orpana Jennifer laan mikele wile kaylie copeland

 

H O W O T H E R P E O P L E S E E U S

H O W W E S E E O U R S E L V E S

The Cucumber School

ILLUSTRATION BY JACQUI MCCARTY

Welcome to THE Cucumber School

I was in downtown Toronto at my favourite retail store, LUSH, when I first heard the phrase. If you’ve ever been to a LUSH you’ll know that the workers are often abundantly bubbly and conversational as they try to sell you their wares. In my conversation with one of the girls we started talking about college as usually happens with other people our age, the woes and struggles and such. And then the question I knew was coming arose “Where do you go to school?” Probably ex-pecting me to say Ryerson, U of T, OCAD or the like I had to kind of back-pedal and explain that I go to school in Alberta and that she’s probably never heard of my school. But excitedly she calls over another employee, lets call him George and exclaims that he is from Alberta. George repeats the question and again I respond that he’s probably never heard of it to which he replies “Well I live in Red Deer is it anywhere near there?” “Oh” I respond thinking perhaps he might know it, “um CUC?” “Yeah! I know it!” He exclaims then suddenly his demeanour changes and sheepishly he responds “Um, we call it, The Cucumber School” To which all I could think to respond with was “That’s fair”.

I walked out of there questioning why “they” call it The Cucumber School, how many people “they” is and ultimately larger questions about how does our commu-nity and our world views us. I can only assume we are called the cucumber school as a reference to our vegetar-ianism and the fact that our previous acronym was the first three letters of cucumber. So apparently our com-munity views us as “that weird veggie school” which is probably a stereotype many an Adventist would be proud of. And it could be a lot worse, in high school our acad-emy and church was thought to be a cult and compound by our city.

This summer I started working at a local business in town, I was the first person from Burman and first Adventist my coworkers had ever really had contact with and I was asked a lot of questions. In answering these questions my first reaction is to say “well I’m not like other Adventists” or I try to explain that not everyone at the college is like the ones they may have met. I say this instinctively because I already know its probably not a positive view and I am quite often right. We’re usually seen as a secluded sect who doesn’t often grace the city with our presence unless it is to order food, often without tipping or to hand out condemning pamphlets and trying to convince them to join our “true” way of living.

When I do something embarrassing in front of strangers I often think well I’m never going to see them again. Although lets be honest the likelihood of seeing a stranger more than once in Lacombe is pretty high. But maybe that is their one ever interaction with an Adventist, christian or even God. Unfortunately I don’t just represent myself I repre-sent my church, school and community to the world. In my daily interactions have I represented any of them accurately or positively? It’s a lot of pressure, representing others and trying to be Christ like, especially in your down time when its late and you’re tired and stressed and you go to a local business to get some study snacks. What is the solution? What can we do about our image? How can we create positive change in our community and world? How can we become known as “the school/church that loves”? These may be questions for the global Adventism PR team but they are some questions that we will attempt to touch base on in this issue. We are not guaranteeing answers but this issue is meant to examine how the community and world outside of the Adventist bubble views our school and what we can possibly do to better those views.

Happy Reading!Rebekah Maurice

editor’s message

ILLUSTRATION BY JACQUI MCCARTY 7

So apparently our community views us as

“that weird veggie school” which is

probably a stereotype many an Adventist

would be proud of

PS. Count the Cucumbers in this issue and submit your answer to: sachronicles@burmanu.ca for a chance to win a $10 Tims Card

Introvert:A Quiet Witness BY RECHELLE SMITH

I am severely socially handicapped. Social interaction takes about an hour of preparation. I’m not kidding. I have to talk myself into being okay with groups of people. I escape to the bathroom as soon as class is done so that I can wait for the large group to move without me. When I see people that I kinda-sorta know, I panic. I’m torn between walking straight past them, smiling, or saying hi. By the time I’ve thought about what approach I’m going to take, the opportunity has already passed. Following that excruciating and awkward interaction, I temporarily kick myself repeatedly in my hy-pothetical social face. “Why on earth are you so chronically awkward? Why can’t you just say hi? You know they’re prob-ably going to think you’re rude right? Why do you make it so hard? Why are you even thinking about this right now?” My thoughts are usually displayed on my face, so whoever pops up next probably thinks I’m scowling at them. Then I have to interrupt said ugly narrative to start the vicious cycle all over again.

Growing up, my mother made it a point to crack me out of my shell by bringing me to track distribution. You know, you walk up to the doorbell, give it a hearty ring, smile as said stranger opens the door, tell them about Jesus, and leave them with a track. I hated it. I hated every single moment of it. When my group leader wasn’t looking, I’d simply pray, slip the track somewhere on the porch, and run like death was on my heels. I didn’t like talking to people. Not that I don’t like people, but small talk and plastic interaction makes my soul cringe. At church however, I’d constantly be bombarded with messages like: “You should be bold for Jesus!” “God has com-missioned us to ‘go ye therefore and preach the gospel!’” “Put your selfish desires behind you and go tell someone about Christ!” My absolute favourite of all is: “If you really and tru-ly loved Christ, you would go everywhere and talk to people about him.”

I constantly felt like an inadequate Christian. Track distribution made my heart quake. I’d always clench my fists in preparation to talk to people in public, and I’d constantly hate myself for my ‘inadequacies,’ as I believed them to be. I had always been told that singing and preaching in church was good, but walking up and down and talking to strangers was best.

Then I began to open the Bible for myself. The more I read into the New Testament, the more I began to realize that Jesus himself was an introvert! He constantly went off to be by himself to pray and commune with his father (Luke 5:16). He established places of quietness, privacy and rest so that he could recharge.

Am I saying that introverts are the true Christians? Nope. I’m saying that introverts have something to offer the church as well. Can you imagine if we spent all our time get-ting people into the church and then did not have a place where they could be individually taken care of? People would be leaving the church even faster than they already are.

So, my fellow introverts! We have a part to play in the furthering of the gospel! After a bit of research, I found a few articles from Relevant Magazine that shed light on being in-troverted in the church. (If you aren’t subscribed to them on Facebook, check them out!) The following points are some suggestions that they had:

“Develop one-on-one relation-ships with church members.”

A Christ centered relationship not only glorifies God, but helps our spiritual lives to grow. Introverts have a knack for listening and asking questions, which sometimes is all that people need. Look for people who might need a listening ear and then do just that.

“Volunteer for behind-the-scenes services.”

Things like painting the set for the church play, operating the power point, or offering to help clean up is a great way to be involved without having to feel self-conscious and can strengthen the feeling of community.

“Go to group events in which you can just listen, not talk.”

Lectures, conferences, and concerts are great ways for intro-verts to reflect and sit back while the extroverts do their thing.

“Find your niche, and put your gifts to work.”

Whether it’s helping out with kids, playing the piano, or sim-ply praying for the church service to go well, or whatever oth-er gift God has given you, use it for the glory of God!

So my fellow introverts, go ye therefore and preach to the nations in your own silent way.

Relevance

As a school we are often wondering what our com-munity thinks of us, why is it that some people in Lacombe have never heard of us and why those of them that have often see us negatively. We combat this by reaching out one day each year and think that that puts a bandaid on ev-erything without fixing the underlying problem; how we interact with our community everyday. Maybe you think you don’t interact with your community everyday but you really do, where? At local businesses, specifically local restaurants.

Burman students are known at local restaurants for two things:

1. Being demanding, needy, and on the odd ocasion, rude. 2. Not tipping or tipping barely enough to make tip out.

Although these two things may not seem like major players in the grand scheme of what makes a person, and a religion what they are, they do speak only one thing to our commu-nity; a negative association with the faith behind Burman University.

Perhaps I should start with some enlightening facts about restaurant workers.

1. Unlike the rest of restaurant workers, servers do not make minimum wage. They are paid below minimum wage because the tips they receive are expected to make up the difference.

2.Restaurants have a “Tip Out” policy. This means that whatever amount a server sells during their shift (the total amount spent from each of their tables on food, beverages, desserts), they must pay back a percentage to the restaurant to go toward tipping the back of the house (kitchen staff, dishwashers, bussers, hostesses). This tip out percentage ranges between 4-8% depending on the restaurant’s policy. For example, if a server sells $1000.00 worth of food during their shift, they will owe back between $40.00-$80.00 (de-pending on the restaurant’s tip out policy).

3. Tip out comes off a server’s tips regardless of whether they’ve been tipped or not. This means that if a server is not tipped during their shift, they will end up owing the restaurant money for coming to work.

4. Due to rising housing, food, fuel costs in Canada, tip-ping percentage is currently at 15%. The average tip that a server receives is 5-10%.

5. The service you receive includes the hostess, server, and kitchen staff. If you do not like the quality of the food, and or did not receive it in a timely fashion, this could be due to a failure on part of the kitchen staff, who will receive a tip regardless of whether you tip your server. The server is the only one who will not receive a tip if you choose not to tip.

6. More times than not, when a group of students come into a local restaurant, the serving staff is instantly discour-aged, because we know that no matter how good of a job we do, more times that not, we will not be tipped for our efforts. No tip or low tip translates into a servers mind that we have done a poor job.

Having said that, some students have voiced that, as students, we can’t afford to tip. To combat this claim I would point out that the average student bill at a restaurant is $15.00-$20.00. A 15% tip on that bill would be $2.25-$3.00. If a student can pay $15.00 to go out for dinner, they should be able to pay $17.25 in order to show their respect and appreciation for the service they have received. If you receive service that you don’t believe deserves a tip (which does happen from time to time), please ask to speak to a manager and discuss your complaint with them, explain-ing your reason for not tipping. The restaurant cannot fix a problem if they don’t know there is one.

This is not meant to shame our students, but to bring awareness as to how we are perceived in our com-munity and unfortunately, our local restaurants may be the only interaction we have with some individuals in our community, leaving these places as some of our only ave-nues to witness and share our faith.

Something as small as tipping and being friendly to your server can change our current negative association with a pos-itive one and in turn, change the way our community views our faith.

9

What impression are you leaving?

We don’t always know how others perceive us.Yet sometimes I can get caught up in trying to guess. I’ll eval-uate what kind of impression I left on someone, usually unsat-isfied in some way at what came across. There are also times I feel elated knowing that I was able to be who I want to be. But if I’m only using this feedback to make me feel good or bad, I’m arriving at a dead end when I could be soaring on a highway.

The dead end isfocussing on myself. I’m usually doing the best I can, but I have limitations. I can make apparent improvements to my behaviour based on the feedback I get from others, but these patch-jobs never seem to be lasting. I used to do this a lot.

I used to rely on myself for self-improvement. I viewed it as assembling building blocks into whatever shape I wanted. The problem was, the shape was never as immaculate as I envisioned it to be. How could it have been when relying on self makes you selfish? My friends knew me as arrogant, full of pride—always chasing something new.

I remember when I wanted a bigger change in my life. One I didn’t think I was capable of doing. The character I had been building for years was starting to look ugly to me. For the first time in a long time I turned to God to give me a new heart. I would ask Him this every day but didn’t think anything was happening.

All I knew was that Jesus

was my only hope, so I focussed on His promise to change me.

A couple of months later I met with a friend who had known me for many years. “Orpana, you’ve changed,” he said, “and I mean that in a good way!” Until then, I hadn’t thought I had changed. I still saw myself as incapable of being who I wanted to be, so my friend’s words made me feel elated and confirmed. But that wasn’t the dead end for me. I wasn’t focused on myself, but on something greater.I was soaring on a highway.

Something incredible happens when we stop relying on our-selves to change ourselves, and instead surrender ourselves to Jesus. A connection forms. Transformation happens. Change takes place that we don’t even realize.

We are transported from our dead ends to a highway of power and purpose. I don’t always know how others perceive me. But whatever feed-back I do get, I use it to answer the most important question responsible for ensuring my improvement, treating them better the next time, and having the right focus:

“Am I connected?”

devotional

Am I connected ?BY ANDREW ORPANA

The True HeartBY KATIE SYMONDS

From the day that we are born we are made into an image that our parents feel people will like. Little girls in pink, little boys in blue, not taken out in public unless we are smiling. We grow into teenagers where appearance is everything. We need the latest clothes, newest trends, beach bodies and makeup to cover up any “flaws”. Into our adult years things become more complicated, we now need a new car and a big house, high paying job, husband/ wife, children etc.. Because without these things society portrays us as poor and unhappy.

But isn’t it refreshing to know that God doesn’t judge us by our appearance, but rather, the purity of our heart. However, we continue to still worry that others will judge us by our appearance. We put on a pretty face for people so they won’t judge us- but we cannot hide an ugly heart; especially from God.

Luckily we are blessed that he looks at our motivations and thoughts to judge each one of us. To take it one step further, do we hold others to the same standard that God holds us? Or do we instead judge others superficially, according to the ways in which the world sets standards.

We are seen as a school on a hilltop, full of Christian people who are here to spread the gospel and learn more about Jesus. We have put on a pretty face for the communities around us with our freshly cut grass, paved roads, big signs and fancy walkways. But, are we hiding an ugly heart?

We need to start acting like people see us- we need to be Christians on the hilltop, freshly created by Jesus. Bringing people to our church, school and programs and not judging them because they live down in the valley. Let’s make an effort to not be hypocritical by wanting to be judged by our heart while judging others based on appearanc-es. God loves everyone the same, he knows every hair on our heads and he wants to bring us all home.We need to accept the challenge of taking what we have made on the outside and applying it on the inside.But the lord said to Samuel, “ DO NOT JUDGE BY HIS APPEARANCE OR HEIGHT, FOR I HAVE REJECTED HIM. THE LORD DOES NOT LOOK AT THINGS THE WAY THAT WE DO. PEOPLE JUDGE BY OUTWARD APPEARANCE, BUT THE LORD LOOKS AT THE TRUE HEART.” - 1 SAMUEL 16:7

It is in my innate sinful nature that I pride myself in my abilities to fight back in moments when I am faced with hateful rage against me. In spite of the sin that runs throughout my blood stream, I pray God that I emit His character through my eyes, and his love through my hands. That I may touch the lives of others through my being, despite my tendencies to do otherwise. - Jendayi Ferary

CREATIVE

Am I connected ?BY ANDREW ORPANA

11

By Spencer Page

The Time We Met Norman Brown“Scarlet! I told you not to smoke in here.” “I opened the window, Wilson.” “Well that doesn’t really make a difference, does it?” My father marched by the counter where I sat, as imposing as ever, and flung the red shutters of the Mid-town Café shut. Miss Scarlet had raised her cigarette back to her lips, but she could only watch as Dad snatched it deftly from between her thin lips and smothered the smouldering tobacco against his apron. “One of these days, Scarlet,” my father said, “one of these days, I’m gonna turn you out, you know.” Miss Scarlet dismissed him with a wave of her skeletal hand. “You wouldn’t understand, Wilson.” “Oh, I understand. I understand that you’re trying to solicit the mailman.” “It makes me alluring.” “It makes your teeth yellow,” my father retorted.

“And the mailman’s already married.” He left it at that and even Miss Scarlet with her evil red lips and twitching gold earrings knew better than to argue with him. “Help me out and take the garbage will you John?” my father said to me. I couldn’t argue with him either. When I wasn’t in school, my time was spent in Midtown. My life – all of our lives for that matter – revolved around the Black Family Midtown Café. In the afternoon I did my homework at the bar, in the evenings I manned the till and mingled with the customers, at night I slept above the restaurant, and before bed I always took out the garbage. It took me longer than normal to find where the deaf old chef Jim had stashed the day’s junk before check-ing out for home and I found my eyes drying with exhaus-tion before I’d even reached the back door and stepped into the cool October night. The alley behind Midtown was narrow and dark and two big trash bins blocked my line of sight either way. To the right I could distantly see the streetlights on the corner of Centre and Blythe switch-ing from yellow to red and to the left, there was the ut-

ter darkness of the dead-end where Dad’s Pontiac was parked. In the apartment above me, I heard my sister pro-testing between sobs my mother’s demand that she get in the bath tub. I heaved the massive load of garbage over my shoulder and struggled to the bin on the dark side end of the alley, but before I could toss it over, I saw a change in the light. Not the red switching suddenly to green, but more like the snuffing of a candle, and I knew at once that someone was behind me, shielding the glow. I spun round, already afraid that I might be cut off from the door, and saw a shabby looking man, dressed in a tattered overcoat and wearing a scruffy looking toque tightly over his ears. With his back to the light, I had to imagine his face, and images of every poster I had ever seen for any horror movie attacked my fearful mind all at once. “Hello there,” I said. Even though I was afraid, I still had the sense to be polite. “You live here?” “I live in the apartment above here.” The Man didn’t seem to think I was very smart. He grunted darkly to himself and I had the thought that his voice sounded like chalk scraping against the sidewalk. “My Dad owns the café,” I said. “But we’re closed now.” By the way his hand kept wiping the bit of lip be-neath his nose, I figured he had a cold. “That’s okay,” he mumbled. “Didn’t expect much anyways.” Now my curiosity got the better of me and I asked him what he meant. “Cause I know the people here, man, and I know they’re a bunch of–” “A bunch of what now?” I saw my father standing on the step of the back door, looking strong and fearsome next to the stranger. “Sorry, sir, but are you the owner?” the man asked and Dad nodded. “You aren’t Mr. Brady?” “No sir, I’m not. Mr. Brady is a customer here. Now why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re lurking around my door at this hour?” The Man seemed to have straightened up and in the light shining from the door I could see that he was young with bright green eyes. He hadn’t shaved in a while. Something about his appearance made me even more un-comfortable than I was before. “I’m sorry, sir,” said the Man. “My name’s Norman Brown.” “You want a coffee, Norman?” I glanced at Dad who jerked his head for me – or perhaps the stranger – to follow him inside. We both did

anyhow and before I’d gotten far, Dad whispered to me to get up to bed. I turned towards the stairs and did my best to look as though I had every intention of following his orders until he and this Norman guy had disappeared into the kitchen. When they had gone, I followed and lis-tened at the door. “You eaten recently, Norman?” asked Dad. “Not for a few days, sir.” “Then let me fix you something.” “But I’ve got no money sir.” “Why did you have a problem with old Mr. Brady?” Norman seemed hesitant to answer. “He kicked me out the last time. Told me I wasn’t welcome here…that you didn’t serve those who couldn’t serve themselves.” “Well I’m the one that should be sorry then. And I think Mr. Brady will find that he is no longer welcome. Leave it to him to spoil all our reputations.” I heard the clatter of a plate being set down on the table. “But I can’t pay you, sir!” “Norman, at my church they say that Jesus paid it all, so eat the damn sandwich.” I could hear Norman eating. “You got a place to sleep?” “The shelter’s full.” “Then you’ve got a place here.”

CREATIVE

13

Gym ChroniclesBY ASHIA LENNON

In an effort to stay in shape, or should I say regain a some-what healthy composure, I’ve decided to embark where no one who is not sports inclined would go…The gym.

For somewhere so brightly luminescent all my memories are skewed to represent, avidly, a dark void of pain and drudg-ery. I have learnt a lot about myself during these days, a lot of things that I maybe should not reveal for the sake of keeping up whatever illusion is left that I am not a fully-fledged crazy person. I feel it is my obligation to warn all potential souls on this side of the universe. I will tell you the struggles, as I have experienced them, of how to build a habit of going to gym, or at the very least, how to gain some habits for im-proving your health and wellness. For that which we know of but speak not of… Winter Is Coming.

Something I learnt very quickly about working out: It takes A LOT of planning. For anyone, like me, who hasn’t found the calling of the long, uneven trek to grassy plateaus or the delight of frigid lakes, the gym, I believe, is the best option to get the physical activity needed.

SURPRISE!You will need clothes dedicated for the gym and yes, gasp! New shoes! Enjoy this moment, it might be a long road be-fore you find another achievement to celebrate.

SET A TIME.By far one of the hardest components before you even arrive at the gym is the burning question: When are you available to go to the gym?If your semester is turning out to be anything like mine, your answer may sound like: “Never!.. I NEED MORE HOURS IN A DAY!” This might be an accurate sentiment, but lovelies, if our goal is healthy, robust winter bodies, sacrifices must be made!

For example, we can reduce our daily time spent Facebook-ing and Instagraming to give us a minimum of 30 minutes of workout time.

Also, going at the same time every day helps. I remember the days of going in the mornings before classes and realizing, although I am a morning person, that doesn’t work. Getting that burst of energy at night works best for me as it gives me the motivation or the inability to sleep in order to finish assignments.

GET A FRIEND!I find the gym less intimidating when done together. I re-member making the effort of just getting through the doors to help build the habit of going; even if selfies are just about the only thing you accomplish, at least you made it. Another great tip is to literally just show up! On our relative-ly small campus, there’s no telling who you might bump into.

Health LEt’S GETPhysical

HYDRATE!The gym does have water fountains but it would be more efficient for you take your own bottle to reduce the burning sensation in your throat of being dehydrated.

PLAYLIST.Equally as important as the correct pair of sneakers is your playlist. What is it that gets you motivated to go the extra 0.5 mile? Choose your list keenly with as many feel good tunes and rock out!

JUST DO IT!You now have all the tools you need to show up and be ready for the vigorous world of #gymlife. The wonderful thing about our University Gym is that there are lots of friendly faces and always someone who can help. You can and you will succeed!

peanut butter apple oatmeal smoothieBY JENNIFER LAANLEt’S

GETPhysicalSo this has got to be hands down my favorite smoothie concoction ever. Not only is it basically dessert in a cup, it is vegan as well! It is packed with lots of protein and fiber and it super easy to make.

So here is what you will need:

1 Banana.1 cup of unsweetened applesauce, or 1 apple chopped up. 1 cup of almond milk (or your favorite non-dairy beverage).1 Tbsp. of peanut butter. 2 Tbsp. of Oats (I usually just use a handful)1 dollop of vegan vanilla yogurt (I use the so-delicious one from co-op but which every you fancy). 1 Tsp. of vanilla extract. ½ Tsp. of Cinnamon. 5-6 ice cubes (if desired). Small handful of Chia Seeds.

This recipe is super easy, just blend it all together people. Its not rocket science. One you have blend it to the desired consistency, pour and enjoy!This is a super easy breakfast as well if your busy and on the go in the morning. Also one more thing is that this recipe serves one individual, so if you want to prepare more just double the recipe.

Hope you all enjoy this super yummy and healthy treat! 15

Still Alive!BY MIKELLE WILE

Before I get started on the stories I want to give an update to all the great people who donated money to our activity fund: I found a guy in Santa Cruz who is going to make me 5 nice ukuleles for a great price! I can’t wait to get started with music lessons here! It’s been hard to get set up because we don’t often go to the city. But things are rolling now! We are also using the money to order English teaching materials. I was surprised at how eager and passionate the kids are about learning English.

SO here’s how it went.

Josh, Kaylie and I arrived in the Santa Cruz airport around 4am expecting to be met by a man named Georghe who would help us get our visas in the city that day. Instead we were met with the news that Kaylie’s bags didn’t make it and could we please provide a Bolivian contact number so they could call us when the bags came in? Funny that they should ask for a Bo-livian contact number because we would also liked to have one of those. Hours later is was worked out. Turns out he thought we were coming the next day.

So Gheorge showed up at about 8am in his little grey car, which is the older brother of a smart car. We pessimistically evalutated it as a carrier for our year’s-worth of luggage (which was only 2/3 of the real deal since we didn’t have Kaylie’s). Somehow we tetrus-ed it in and got going with the longest day in the world’s history – Sept 10, 2015 — I’m sure you re-member it. We ran all over Santa Cruz that day, (not having slept the night before) to collect all of the documents for our visas. Get photos taken at a stall here, visit a sketchy lawyer there, go to a photocopy stall on the street, stand in a 30 min line for the bank, and go to the Interpol where the man rolls your finger on the ink pad for a little too long with a little too much eye contact.

The next day we were itching to get to the children’s home,El Sauce which is 3 hours away from the city. The only problem was that it had been rain-ing hard all day and the road wasn’t safe. Andres, who works for El Sauce was with us and calling up a bunch of different van companies to see if any would drive in these conditions. No luck. Kaylie suggested we take a second and pray about it and so we did. By the time the next phone call was made, God had worked things out for us and we were ready to go in a few minutes.

Turns out the van companies were right to be wary. The 3 hour journey took us 7 hours because there had been so many landslides on the moun-tain roads. Our cheeks-stuffed-with-coca driver was pretty surprised we didn’t have to spend the night on the side of the road.

Josh went off to his project at CERENID leaving Kaylie and I at El Sauce. When we arrived we found the place in a bit of a crisis. The house parents of Casa Dos (House Two) were leaving the day after we came and there was no plan for replacements. Enter Mikelle and Kaylie: two girls who have never lived on their own, can’t cut anything right, don’t speak much Spanish and have a hard time with simple decisions. (Last week we rum-maged through an ice cream cooler so long trying to decide, that the store owner came and closed it while our arms were still inside, forcing us to buy the ice creams we had in our hands at the moment. For this we were grateful, because finally we could get on with our day).

With the above list of qualifications we set out to being house parents for two mothers (13 and 16) their two babies, and a 5, 8 and 13 year old. . The first night we were so nervous. We came over to do worship with them and prepare supper. We all ended up laughed the whole meal, even though no one was really sure why because of the language barrier. Although in retrospect, it is quite possible that they knew why they were laughing and we were just obliviously jolly.

Since then we have switched houses so that the four teen moms can be all together. We have all the rest! That’s 10 kids between 2 and 16. Thankfully there is another lady here to share the load now! Every day I feel a little less out of my league.

I have learned how to respond to several names. The main one be-ing “HERMANA!” (which means sister and is always either shouted or whined). Sometimes I will be called “Kaylie”, which is surprising given the fact that I learned the names of 17 children in another language and they cannot get two names down (I have communicated this fact to them in the same heated voice). On the list of unacceptable excuses for getting our names wrong, the tippy top is that we look alike. Just to sort things out for you, I am the one who does not have a distinct fiery beacon for hair. If neither one of these are used they will call me Mikaylie, which despite it’s inaccuracy, is very efficient at summoning two people at once.

At church, the pastor had the congregation repeat our names about 67 times and made a bit of a Who’s Who game out of it that only he was enjoying.

I have never before experienced such highs and lows as I have since leav-ing Canada a month ago. The reason for this turmoil is that I didn’t un-derstand why I was here. These people didn’t have need that was visibly measurable like I had expected. The buildings at El Sauce are nice enough and thanks to their garden they have lots of good fresh food.

A few days ago I realized why God brought me here. It was a holiday and so we took all the kids to this pool/river thing. We had so much fun fling-ing the kids around and bouncing with those who couldn’t swim. After a while Kaylie and I laid out on the hot rocks to get warm again. Kaylie was looking past me and said “Wow, that kid is buck naked… Oh that’s our kid!”. It was 5-year-old Lizbeth of course. She hadn’t brought her swimsuit so she just hopped in fully clothed. I guess she got pretty cold in there and decided it was best to just stripped down. I grabbed her and wrapped her up in my towel while she shivered violently. I just sat and squeezed her till she was warm and dry. I realized that she didn’t have anyone else to do that for her. She’s only five and she just wants to be held and loved and feel special at a home of 17 children who all want the same.

Since that moment of realization I have had so many other revelations. Being a servant looks different than I thought. The needs I am here to meet are much more abstract and hard to see than I am comfortable with. But I am so honored to be sent to ease someone’s suffering or help mend a broken heart. I am learning a lot. I’m learning how to show love and empathy. How to open up to people so they feel they can do the same with me. I’m learning how to give of myself when I’m exhausted or lonely or just want stick my fingers in my fingers in my ears so I don’t have to pre-tend I’m still interested in the same picture of a peacock that Lizbeth has been showing me for 20 minutes.

I have always had a desire to help people and to spend my life serving oth-ers. But in this long month I’ve learned that the most valuable and perhaps the hardest gift to give is love. The Bible says that if I can speak in differentlanguages, have the gift of prophecy, have all knowledge and great faith, but have not love, then I am nothing (1 Cor 13). I’m so glad to be here with

Student missionaries

Kaylie because she is one of the most caring and loving people I know. She shows it in the way she rubs your back or looks at you when you’re sad. I on the other hand am the kind of person who assumes that when some-one says they’re sick, they’re being dramatic or if someone is hurt they’re faking it. Comforting or general feeling-related things are not a strength of mine. I have work to. I may have other talents that are useful here but the gift I want to give most is love.

Yesterday I taught Kaylie how to say “You are smart, you are kind, you are important” in Spanish (copyright: The Help). That’s what these kids need to know. None of the kids at El Sauce are actually orphans as far as I know. They’re children who were taken away because of abuse, neglect or poverty. Sometimes this is even more heart breaking. All Hilda wants is to go home. When I see her crying I remember to show a little more love when her room is an absolute explosion. Today Liz followed me around everywhere and I was annoyed. But my heart was softened while I was digging in the bath drain with a clothes hanger and all she wanted to do was look into my face while I did it. She does that a lot. When Kaylie and I do our workout we usually have about 5 little kids around us. Their mo-tivations range from wanting to stare my phone playing music, to those who want to try and do the moves, to those who want to assist us in doing the crunches with their little weak arms. No matter what position I’m in Liz has to have intense eye contact with me. Even if it means sliding her head in between my face and the ground when I’m holding a plank. As nuts as this 5 year old is, I want to learn to look at people with as much love as she does.

Things are still really hard and 8 months seems really bleak sometimes.

Everything is different here. I used to struggle to figure out what my cul-ture was. I felt like Canada, being a country of immigrants was just a bor-rower. But I can really see my culture here. The Bolivian communication style is so different than at home – for the most part it does not exist. One German tourist told us to “just chill and accept that you don’t know where you’re going until you arrive there”. I’m really trying to ask less questions but this is not in my nature. I want to know what that noise is that is con-stantly coming from our fridge (it’s a frog in case you too were curious) and what is the best way to roll bread into a ball and would appreciate any kind of notice before we go on trips (even 10 mins would be great).

Since the communication is so different, we don’t get validation in the ways we’re used to. For a long time we felt unwanted, unusable and incon-vienient. Since we were so new the kids had to teach us to do everything. I came to help these kids and I was really unhappy to see the rolls reversed. When a kid who just blew her nose into her hand knows what’s going on more than you, it’s a humbling moment. But I can actually thank God for the hardest parts. When I was back in Canada, I could make my own hap-piness without him. Here I’m stripped of all the things I know and love. Here I need a best friend and a reminder of my purpose. Without him I actually can’t make it through the day without a breakdown. I can only find peace and joy when I look up, not at the road ahead.

One missionary we met here told us that you always think you’re going to serve God. But when you get there you realize God is serving you. And it’s so true. He miraculously answers at least one prayer a day. He has never left me stranded. 17

Pumpkin Pie and ThankfulsBY KAYLIE COPELAND

Thanksgiving. A time of pumpkin spiced lattes held in hands adorned in warm mittens. The sound of leaves crunching under-neath ugg boots and the feeling of bellies that are too full from turkey feasts with loved ones. I typically get pretty sentimental on thanksgiving, going over all the beauty in my life that I have to be thankful for. Friendships, coffee, grace. Warm beds and hot showers, the opportunity to go to a great school, to be surround-ed by such an uplifting community, the ability to feel love. Every year, I find myself surrounded by the people in my life I am most thankful for. Be it my mom and dad growing up, Shawna the last few years, the Bradburn family last thanksgiving.

But this year Thanksgiving looked really different for me. Yester-day, I woke up and faced a day that was just like every other day here. There was no one to greet me with a “happy thanksgiving”, nobody got teary eyed as they told me how thankful they were for me, no one gave me any pumpkin pie. I didn’t feel thankful as I faced a day that started without coffee and without a nice shower (the water wasn’t working). I was greeted with the usual “beuno dias” as the kids groggily crowded around the breakfast table and I certainly wasn’t feeling thankful as they left for school, leaving me with all the dishes to wash and put away. I didn’t feel thankful for where I was currently at, and every time I looked at the pic-tures from home that are hanging up on my wall, I felt pangs of homesickness and sadness. I spent a lot of time by myself. I spent a lot of time praying and missing and I even shed a few tears. I made it through thanksgiving feeling very alone, without eating any pumpkin pie, and without those that I love the most.

Now, the day after Thanksgiving, I sit on my bed thinking about the things I should have felt thankful for and realizing that this homesickness probably won’t ever leave entirely. I’m also realiz-ing that one day, I will feel homesick for El Sauce and that back in Canada I will long for the people I have grown to love here and I will wish for the view that still takes my breath away.

Yesterday, after I was able to move past my self-pity party and stop wishing for pumpkin pie, I realized how lucky I really am. I am so thankful to have people in my life that I am able to miss so much. If I could write from Bolivia that I feel no homesickness, that I miss nobody – what would my life truly be? The ability to feel the sadness, the homesickness, the missing – it just shows how lucky I am to have such wonderful people to miss. I sit here, on this really cold day (I know, I thought Bolivia was supposed to be hot, too!), and realize that God has given me so many things to be thankful for and that just because I am apart from those things doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still be thankful for them.

I sit here, listening to Mikelle play her guitar and sing outside and realize that I have so much to be thankful for in the here and now, too. My wall includes pictures of banff hot spring visits, and

beautiful Shelby at the banquet, of Celina and I on a coffee date, a postcard from Codrina from Spain, a picture taken in NB with Shawna, a water-colour Yuot painted for me and my heart feels like it could burst remembering all these people that I love. But I’m adding to this wall in Bolivia, I’m putting up cards from Ma-ria and Bebi and decorations left over from Jose and Eisa’s anni-versary. And when I come home to Canada, I’ll be printing more pictures of all the people that I have grown to love here. They will hang on my wall one day and I will tell all the people I love in Canada about the people I love in Bolivia. I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful for the opportunity to be able to love in so many different places, in so many different ways.

I’m wearing two sweaters, one from Josh, one from Talia and feel-ing the warmth of those friendships even if the friends are not beside me. I miss laughing with Shawna until my belly hurts and I miss Celina’s fashion advice every morning and her annoyance with my indecisiveness. I miss meeting up with the boys on the way to Vespers on Friday nights and asking them the next day what we were going to do that Sabbath. But here, the birds are chirping and there is a group of kids at the other house waiting for Mikelle and I to come over and teach them, play with them, love them. There is bread to be made, and babies to be hugged, and unfortunately, diapers to be changed. Down in the garden, there is a shed of vegetables to be sorted and there is a guy named Edward to make laugh with silly antics and funny faces. There are teen mothers who want to sing with us as we work and there is lunch to be prepared. There is a new cat Mikelle named Lentil (yeah, Kim!) to protect from little kids and their best of intentions and there is always dishes to be done. There are God talks waiting to be had with Mikelle and strangers in Samaipata that hopefully, won’t always be strangers. There are places to explore, and moun-tains to hike, and coffee to sneak (yeah, Adventists don’t drink coffee….I know), and kids to just love.

I’m thankful for Jose-Man’s drool covered face squished against the window and thankful for walks to town with Bebi and Mike-lle for donuts. I’m thankful for new days and I’m thankful when the water works and even more thankful when it’s warm (let’s be real, it never really gets hot). I’m thankful every time I’m too lazy to check my shoes before I put them on and I don’t squish a cen-tipede with my bare feet. I’m thankful for the decaf coffee they have here (….I’m trying to be thankful for that), and thankful that we can find peanut butter here, even if it is overpriced. I”m thankful for cold days like today because I don’t get sunburnt and I’m thankful for hot days because I don’t have to wear two shirts, two sweaters and a jacket to keep warm. I’m thankful for the rain because it gives me a funny story about how my clothes hung on the line for five days without drying and I’m thankful for the sun because it helps the vegetables in the garden to grow. I’m thankful for those vegetables because fresh beets, carrots, lettuce, and ci-lantro every meal really makes a difference. I’m thankful for Mi-kelle, for a friendship of laughter and cool God talks. I’m thankful for new friendships made through broken conversation and I’m even thankful when I mess up my Spanish and say confidently to a stranger “Good Cake!” instead of “Good Afternoon!”. I’m thankful for the laughter of the kids here and I’m thankful for the jokes made about how much Canadians like food (even though

it just a little bit).

I’m just thankful to be here and to be able to engage and to be able to serve and love. And I’m thankful that at the end of this scary, hard, beautiful adventure that I get to go home to more people that I love. I think that’s what I’m the most thankful for. The home I will one day return to. Having something that makes being away so hard, because it means that I have something so wonderful.

And I’m thankful for pumpkin pie, even when I don’t get to eat it on thanksgiving.

Student missionaries

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Hello fellow Burmanites! (sounds pretty good, should we keep that?) If you are anything like me, you are OBSESSED with those Buzzfeed quizzes that ask such ex-istential and thought-provoking questions like, “Which Disney Princess Are You?” and “What Era Do You Most Belong In?” If doing quizzes is your favorite method of pro-crastination, look no further! However, this quiz is made to help you STOP procrastination and START studying! Yes Freshmen, studying is something you’ll actually have to do in your university career. Ya’ll can thank me later. Here are four of my favorite albums from this summer, read on to find out which one will unleash your inner STUDY BEAST. Disclaimer: this is all for fun and prepare yourself for a heavy dose of embellishment and sarcasm. That being said, all these albums are amazing and give them a listen any-way!

YOU SIT DOWN AT YOUR DESK, WHAT DO YOU DO FIRST?A. Open your agenda and look at the long list of assign-ments and pick the one that is due first (prioritizing is key).B. Open your agenda and find it to be blank and then rum-mage through your bag cause you remembered that you wrote your homework on some handout.C. Cry.D. Check Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Tumblr, Vine and Pinterest cause you have to be all caught up on that first.

THE SQUAD TEXTS YOU TO HIT UP TIMMY’S FOR ACOFFEE. YOU…A. Didn’t get the text, your phone is on silent.B. Text back and ask them to grab you an extra-large tri-ple triple because sleep is not an option tonight…turns out that essay you thought was due next week, is due tomorrow.C. Text them back to “GO PICK OUT YOUR OUTFIT FOR MY FUNERAL CAUSE IM DYING”.D. Send the group message a “YAAAAASSS” because you work better under pressure anyway.

YOU WALK INTO CLASS ON THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS. YOU…A. Power walk to the front of the room, NO ONE IS STEAL-

ING YOUR FRONT ROW SEAT. B. Sit in the second row because you’re not a nerd and that way, you can play Candy Crush.C. Find that almost every seat is already taken because you had to tie your shoelaces on the way to class and accidental-ly spilt your yogurt on your black jeans and had to go to the washroom to wash it off and realized, upon seeing yourself in the mirror, that your hair was an absolute DISASTER. So basically, you end up sitting in the back corner of the class right under the freezing cold air conditioning vent.D. Quickly scan the room for a familiar face and make a beeline for anyone you know you can talk to when this class inevitably becomes a bore-fest.

IT’S THE NIGHT BEFORE YOUR FIRST TEST, YOU…A. Are sleeping, DUH.B. Are cramming and desperately trying to stifle the grow-ing sense of panic.C. Post a Facebook status, a tweet, or an Instagram photo that has some variant of “StuDYING” and vent to everyone you know that this test will destroy you.D. Are sprawled onto the floor of the mezz with your “study group”, talking about your first kiss, your most embarrass-ing moment in elementary school and how often you show-er.

THE POSTERS FOR BANQUET HAVE GONE UP, WHICH OF THESE IS YOUR IMMEDIATE REACTION?A. Annoyance. B. Mildly Intrigued.C. Depressed.D. YAAAAAASSSSS!!

YOUR FEELINGS ON THURSDAY MOSTLY INCLUDE,A. “I can’t wait to have uninterrupted study sessions. :’)”B. “HAYSTACK DAY!!”C. “I’ve survived my 2 tests, 3 quizzes, and 5 page lab re-port. I want to sleep the entire weekend.”D. “I gotta text everyone and make sure we’re doing some-thing epic this weekend.”

Which Study Album Are YouBY BIANCA BASTON

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Which Study Album Are YouBY BIANCA BASTON

IF YOU GOT MOSTLY AS, YOU NEED CLASSICAL WITH A TWIST!You’re a NERD. And that’s okay, actually, it’s amazing! You are envied and respected by most of us struggling folks. To help you stay focused, listen to The Chopin Project by Ola-fur Arnalds and Alice Sara Ott. This breathtaking album in-cludes the beautiful Chopin pieces we know and love and puts a beautiful contemporary spin on it with rain sounds, café soundscapes, and beautiful ambient synths.

IF YOU GOT MOSTLY BS, YOU NEED SOME DREAMY INDIE POP!Welcome, you are not alone. You try to keep up with the de-mands of university life but you find yourself drowning a lit-tle. That’s SUPER OKAY. Keep trying and keep getting back up on that study horse! Here, we’ll give you a leg up. Listen to Beach House’s Depression Cherry to calm you down and keep you focused. It’s soothing and layered and just quiet enough to allow thinking.

IF YOU GOT MOSTLY CS, YOU NEED A LITTLE SUNNY FOLK!So university gets you pretty bummed. You find it difficult to stay optimistic when everything in your life just seems to be against you. Hey, we’re all here for you and we’re in the

same boat. To keep you from sinking, listen to Fleet Foxes’ self-titled album, Fleet Foxes. This album came out several years ago but I don’t think it’ll ever go out of style. With clev-er, whimsical lyrics and fun, upbeat music, this will get you out of your slump and give you a little pep to put your rear in gear!

IF YOU GOT MOSTLY DS, YOU NEED TO CHILL OUT.I get it, you have a lot of energy, you’re at the prime of your life and LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED. But don’t forget, you are here at Burman University to learn and to get a de-gree. And paying a pretty hefty tuition on top of that! For your energy and extroversion overdose, I’m prescribing you a brand-new CHILL PILL. This album just came out this month and is already rumoured to have broken a world re-cord. Max Richter’s SLEEP is said to be the longest piece of classical music written so far. It’s a whopping 8 hours and costs $35.00 on iTunes. If you have trouble sleeping, this mel-ancholy, slightly drone-y colossus is perfect! But if you just need to calm down a little and centre yourself, the compan-ion album, from SLEEP is perfect. A one-hour excerpt of the over-arching melodies from its 8-hour parent, it’ll help slow your heart rate and focus your thoughts. Make sure you don’t fall asleep though!

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