I have been too quiet, and it is my dreams that have convicted me.
In my dream, I was talking to someone about politics.
They said, "It's hard to be in the middle ground these days, huh?"
I felt myself recoil. Middle ground?
"But I'm not in the middle ground," my dream self said. "I've taken sides."
I woke up feeling disturbed, convicted. Am I projecting the image that I occupy the middle ground?
Maybe I did stand there, once. But now, I have come to see that this so-called neutral middle ground is not what many would like to think it is. As I just read in Night by Elie Wiesel:
"We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim."
I have been been afraid to take sides. I'm afraid of the backlash. Afraid of what people will think of me. And yet, these are small issues compared to the oppression so many face daily. I should be more afraid that I did not care for the least of these. I should be afraid that I cared more for my reputation than I did for justice.
I've used many excuses to avoid taking sides, and one the biggest is, "But I don't know enough."
What if I post something or say something and then I can't adequately defend or explain my views? I should wait until I've fully researched the issue before I say anything.
But that time never comes. I will never know every detail about every issue. If I waited until I felt like I was an expert on everything, I would never speak up.
Instead, I should speak out and acknowledge that I do not know everything, that I am still learning, that my words and my actions will not be perfect.
I will make mistakes. I already have, in staying silent about the things that matter most.
"Those who kept silent yesterday will remain silent tomorrow." -Elie Wiesel, Night
I cannot be silent any longer, lest I will be silent forever.
So let it be known. I have taken sides, and I endeavor always to be on the side of the oppressed.
Black Lives Matter.
I welcome refugees.
America is stronger because of its immigrants, documented or no.
Undocumented people deserve better, and the US needs immigration reform.
Transgender people deserve equal rights and equal protection.
Homosexuality is not a sin.
I'm a feminist.
Racism is not going away, and ignoring it does not help.
There is a place at the table for people of all religions.
This is by no means an exhaustive list. I hope to spend time reflecting on these issues more in-depth in the coming months. May it challenge me to become a better person, to find my voice, and to follow those words with actions.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Sunday, November 20, 2016
my dark night of the soul
the dark night of the soul:
"a lengthy and profound absence of light and hope"
"a spiritual crisis in a journey towards union with God"
It began while I was still in Tucson, working at Iskashitaa as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. Worship services started feeling empty to me. I spent my days alongside refugees, consistently aware of the many hardships people faced, but when I went to church, I did not feel any connection to the life I was living. I went to services searching for a recognition of the reality around me, but all I could find were hollow words. I needed something real, and I could not seem to find it.
I stopped going.
I felt my faith changing in other ways, evolving into something I didn't recognize. I pulled back. It scared me. Instead of pressing into the doubts, exploring the new branches in the tree of my faith, I pulled away. I pretended those branches didn't exist. But when I looked to my other branches, the familiar ones, the safe ones, I knew that these were done growing. I had nowhere else to go.
My solution to this problem was to do nothing.
I didn't go to church. I didn't read my Bible. I prayed only if someone sent me a prayer request. I feared it was the end of my faith journey, but on a deeper level I felt it was something different, something more significant. I felt it when I read blog posts by Rachel Held Evans or when I met with Emily for coffee or when I saw my missionary friends' social justice posts. My faith was evolving, but I didn't want to deal with it.
I was angry, and I probably still am, and I feel that most when I read posts meant to be inspirational. "Everything happens for a reason." "God will never give you something you can't handle."
Every time I read words like this, I felt myself roll my eyes and fill with frustration. (Helpful ways to address that, I know.)
Because I wanted, I needed, someone to recognize that life is hard, and this world is a mess. That things happen to people that should never happen to anyone, but that God does not want bad things to happen. That war and murder and torture and abuse exist and they are not tools that God uses for some unknown purpose but rather consequences of free will and the existence of evil, and that God mourns these things with us and expects us to be agents of change in an unjust world.
But I did not have that recognition at my fingertips, and I was too weary to go looking. It was easier to be aloof or to be angry, whichever I felt inclined toward on whichever day. It was easier to slip away, little by little.
I found myself in the dark night of the soul. I imagine it, sometimes, as an invitation to step literally into the dark night. Instead of accepting the invitation, and pushing forward, I panicked. I started to turn on artificial lights for myself. Distractions to make me feel safe in the dark. Work was a convenient distraction since it took up most of my time. It gave me a tangible reason for why I wasn't going to church anymore. Then I didn't have to talk about my doubts, my changing faith, my anger, or my fear.
Yet in the midst of my distractions, I have been yearning for the stars. Wondering, if I stepped out into the darkness, would I find those stars? But I've been too afraid to turn off my artificial lights. What if I turned them off and the stars weren't there after all? What if I take away all my distractions and God isn't really there? Then what?
In the aftermath of Trump's election, my uncertainty is greater than ever. I fear that the dark night is about to get far darker. But I also know that I cannot let the fear stop me from putting my whole heart and my whole self into the pursuit of justice. If ever there was a time to step forward, it is now.
I saw this quote on a friend's facebook and it resonated with me:
"a lengthy and profound absence of light and hope"
"a spiritual crisis in a journey towards union with God"
It began while I was still in Tucson, working at Iskashitaa as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. Worship services started feeling empty to me. I spent my days alongside refugees, consistently aware of the many hardships people faced, but when I went to church, I did not feel any connection to the life I was living. I went to services searching for a recognition of the reality around me, but all I could find were hollow words. I needed something real, and I could not seem to find it.
I stopped going.
I felt my faith changing in other ways, evolving into something I didn't recognize. I pulled back. It scared me. Instead of pressing into the doubts, exploring the new branches in the tree of my faith, I pulled away. I pretended those branches didn't exist. But when I looked to my other branches, the familiar ones, the safe ones, I knew that these were done growing. I had nowhere else to go.
My solution to this problem was to do nothing.
I didn't go to church. I didn't read my Bible. I prayed only if someone sent me a prayer request. I feared it was the end of my faith journey, but on a deeper level I felt it was something different, something more significant. I felt it when I read blog posts by Rachel Held Evans or when I met with Emily for coffee or when I saw my missionary friends' social justice posts. My faith was evolving, but I didn't want to deal with it.
I was angry, and I probably still am, and I feel that most when I read posts meant to be inspirational. "Everything happens for a reason." "God will never give you something you can't handle."
Every time I read words like this, I felt myself roll my eyes and fill with frustration. (Helpful ways to address that, I know.)
Because I wanted, I needed, someone to recognize that life is hard, and this world is a mess. That things happen to people that should never happen to anyone, but that God does not want bad things to happen. That war and murder and torture and abuse exist and they are not tools that God uses for some unknown purpose but rather consequences of free will and the existence of evil, and that God mourns these things with us and expects us to be agents of change in an unjust world.
But I did not have that recognition at my fingertips, and I was too weary to go looking. It was easier to be aloof or to be angry, whichever I felt inclined toward on whichever day. It was easier to slip away, little by little.
I found myself in the dark night of the soul. I imagine it, sometimes, as an invitation to step literally into the dark night. Instead of accepting the invitation, and pushing forward, I panicked. I started to turn on artificial lights for myself. Distractions to make me feel safe in the dark. Work was a convenient distraction since it took up most of my time. It gave me a tangible reason for why I wasn't going to church anymore. Then I didn't have to talk about my doubts, my changing faith, my anger, or my fear.
Yet in the midst of my distractions, I have been yearning for the stars. Wondering, if I stepped out into the darkness, would I find those stars? But I've been too afraid to turn off my artificial lights. What if I turned them off and the stars weren't there after all? What if I take away all my distractions and God isn't really there? Then what?
In the aftermath of Trump's election, my uncertainty is greater than ever. I fear that the dark night is about to get far darker. But I also know that I cannot let the fear stop me from putting my whole heart and my whole self into the pursuit of justice. If ever there was a time to step forward, it is now.
I saw this quote on a friend's facebook and it resonated with me:
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.I am clinging to these wise words, to the example of the many prophets and activists I am honored to know, and to the sliver of God I can still feel despite this seemingly all-encompassing darkness.
Monday, September 19, 2016
when I don't feel enough
Though I've been planning to come to Taiwan for over a year, it didn't feel real until I reached the gate for my flight to Taipei. Among the many feelings we experience during major changes, I think this is a typical one, particularly when we don't know what to expect.
Stress levels were high when I first arrived. Should I take a bus or a taxi to my hotel? How would I go about doing that? Would there be a place for me to put my luggage at the hotel since it was too early for check-in? What would I do during the 8 hours before my check-in time?
How do I use the metro system? How does the bus system work? (Still haven't figured that one out, to be honest)
How do I finish the paperwork needed after arrival? Where do I go and what do I need to bring? How do I open the post office savings account? What do I do if I don't have a name stamp?
What's expected of me when I come into a store or restaurant? What if I accidentally offend someone through some cultural unknown?
And the list goes on.
I try to avoid letting potential stressors pile up by continually reminding myself, one step at a time. I focus on the challenge immediately at hand rather than thinking about the next 10 things I'll need to figure out.
Despite that strategy, my first few days here were very difficult. It's daunting to face so many unknowns at once. I dearly wanted to return to somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable, somewhere I understood. I'm someone who gets anxious about navigating a new city in English, in the US. So what made me think I can do it in another language, another country?
Whenever this thought comes up, I try to dismiss it, reminding myself that people do this every day, all over the world, and I can do it, too. It might not be easy or quick, but I will figure it out.
Typically, when I'm in a place I don't know well, my go-to tactic is to try to blend in by acting like I know exactly where I'm going and exactly what I'm doing. Yet when that inclination surfaces here, I think...It's obvious to everyone that I'm not from around here. It's clearly no secret.
It's a vulnerable feeling when I'm trying to figure something out, like when I try to find an address but I don't understand the lanes and alleys. It's an embarrassing feeling at times, like when I went into a cell phone store and walked up to the counter without realizing I needed to take a number first.
Though I'm getting more comfortable, it's often still stressful and it can be frustrating. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and ill-prepared, like I jumped out of the airplane without checking my parachute first. I don't feel strong enough to do this. I don't feel brave enough, outgoing enough, anything enough. But I tell myself that I can do it and I have been doing it. I remind myself that I am growing, and learning, and if I am disappointed in today, I can try again tomorrow. I remember that I am building my life on doing things I once didn't believe myself capable of.
Because I hope and believe this experience could make me a better person, and despite the challenges there is truly no place I'd rather be.
Stress levels were high when I first arrived. Should I take a bus or a taxi to my hotel? How would I go about doing that? Would there be a place for me to put my luggage at the hotel since it was too early for check-in? What would I do during the 8 hours before my check-in time?
How do I use the metro system? How does the bus system work? (Still haven't figured that one out, to be honest)
How do I finish the paperwork needed after arrival? Where do I go and what do I need to bring? How do I open the post office savings account? What do I do if I don't have a name stamp?
What's expected of me when I come into a store or restaurant? What if I accidentally offend someone through some cultural unknown?
And the list goes on.
I try to avoid letting potential stressors pile up by continually reminding myself, one step at a time. I focus on the challenge immediately at hand rather than thinking about the next 10 things I'll need to figure out.
Despite that strategy, my first few days here were very difficult. It's daunting to face so many unknowns at once. I dearly wanted to return to somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable, somewhere I understood. I'm someone who gets anxious about navigating a new city in English, in the US. So what made me think I can do it in another language, another country?
Whenever this thought comes up, I try to dismiss it, reminding myself that people do this every day, all over the world, and I can do it, too. It might not be easy or quick, but I will figure it out.
Typically, when I'm in a place I don't know well, my go-to tactic is to try to blend in by acting like I know exactly where I'm going and exactly what I'm doing. Yet when that inclination surfaces here, I think...It's obvious to everyone that I'm not from around here. It's clearly no secret.
It's a vulnerable feeling when I'm trying to figure something out, like when I try to find an address but I don't understand the lanes and alleys. It's an embarrassing feeling at times, like when I went into a cell phone store and walked up to the counter without realizing I needed to take a number first.
Though I'm getting more comfortable, it's often still stressful and it can be frustrating. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and ill-prepared, like I jumped out of the airplane without checking my parachute first. I don't feel strong enough to do this. I don't feel brave enough, outgoing enough, anything enough. But I tell myself that I can do it and I have been doing it. I remind myself that I am growing, and learning, and if I am disappointed in today, I can try again tomorrow. I remember that I am building my life on doing things I once didn't believe myself capable of.
Because I hope and believe this experience could make me a better person, and despite the challenges there is truly no place I'd rather be.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Taipei: Initial Culture Shock
I've been in Taipei just over a week, so I've gathered up a good number of external culture differences to share here:
That's all for now! Here are a few more pictures:
- Scooters! They are everywhere. Zooming around on roads and sometimes sidewalks, parked along sidewalks (in an orderly fashion).
My favorite scooter sight so far was during the rain, when all the riders were suddenly wearing ponchos.
Note the scooters on the right side of the street - An obvious one, the language. Many things are also printed in English, but not everything. The other night I had some ramen for dinner, but since I couldn't read the instructions (and don't eat ramen much at home) I just guessed at how much water I should put in.
- Time difference. Being 12 hours ahead is so strange! In the morning, I'm seeing posts on social media about people being out and about at concerts, out to dinner, etc...and I'm just waking up...and it's the next day! Then, at night, when my day is almost done, everyone I know at home is just waking up and starting their day.
- Keycard lighting. This is probably a hotel thing, and it's something I remember from China now, too, but in your hotel room, the lights and AC don't come on unless you have your key card in the slot.
Low quality pic of the keycard slot by my bed - There is a correct way to use escalators: anyone who is not moving stands on the right, and anyone who wants to walk up the escalator uses the left. Note, I spend I lot of time on escalators because of the metro system. Minimum 6 per day.
- You can open a savings account at the post office. I haven't opened one yet.
- Specialized shops. We don't have much of this in the US - the only similar one I can really think of are shoe stores. Even when we have a specialized shop, the specialization is still pretty broad. Here, you can walk by a shop that sells one item exclusively and extensively. For example: umbrellas, containers, cords, welcome mats, purses, phone cases, strings of lights - each of these have their own individual shop.
- Most people don't know where Michigan is. I've already been asked if Michigan is in Indiana, or if Michigan is a city.
- Purchases aren't often bagged at convenience stores and supermarkets. This was also a thing in China, though you could get a bag if you paid for it. It seems like they only offer bags for larger purchases, and they always ask first. Most of the plastic bags I see here are for people carrying food.
- I thought I heard an ice cream truck the other day. Turns out, it's actually the trash truck. It drives around playing this melody on repeat. For 20 seconds of the trash truck song, click the video below!
- In McDonald's (yes, I've already been there...don't judge me too hard) when I put my tray away, there was an elaborate (by US standards) system for anything that might be left on your plate:
food waste, liquid waste, cup recycling, general recycling, trays, trash. Personally, I think it's awesome! - I sometimes see people wearing surgical masks. Based on a conversation with a woman from Taipei, I think most people wear them if they are sick or think they might be getting sick, but I'm not sure.
- Almost every single street has a crosswalk and a walk signal light, even on smaller streets.
- Many women use umbrellas to shade themselves from the sun.
- I've seen delivery bikes and delivery scooters. They have a box attached to the back to keep the food warm.
Delivery bike! - None of the hospitals in Taiwan have a 4th floor. (I learned this from my Chinese teacher.) This is because in Chinese, 4 sounds very similar to the word for 'death'. Some other buildings may also omit the 4th floor, but I haven't encountered any personally yet.
That's all for now! Here are a few more pictures:
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| Street near my hostel |
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| Residential area |
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| Taiwanese donut! |
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Three Days in Taipei
I have been in Taiwan since early Wednesday morning (my flight landed right on time at 5:10am), and it is now Saturday afternoon. Most of my time so far has been spent preparing for my classes, wandering around, or fighting jet lag. (The jet lag is so real, friends.) Here's a brief-ish description of my first three days in Taipei:
Day One
After arriving by taxi to my first hotel, I went to a coffee shop suggested by the hotel staff to get breakfast. The only thing I could remember how to say in Chinese at that point (due to a combination of panic and 3 years since my last Chinese class) was "bīng kāfēi" - iced coffee. They had given me a menu so I could point to my first meal in Taiwan. As they set it on the counter, a woman sitting at a table for two moved her bag and gestured for me to sit there since she was almost finished.
I went to my school to do my registration. The biggest portion of this was the placement test they use to determine which class you will be in. I also found out from the scholarship coordinator that MTC (Mandarin Training Center) has over 600 students! My international student ID is definitely the best ID card that's ever happened to me. You can load money onto this and then use it at a myriad of places - the public transportation, participating shops and restaurants, in cabs...apparently it also gives a number of discounts. So far, I have mostly used it while taking the metro.
After leaving my school, I went to the immigration office to apply for my ARC (Alien Resident Card), which I'm required to do within 15 days of arriving. It was like being at the Secretary of State or the DMV; take a number and wait for a long time. I made the mistake of coming during lunch, so it took even longer than I think it would normally. They were on number 653 or so; I was 722. I waited 2 hours to get called up. I noticed a lot of people had to make copies of certain documents, resulting in a line at the copy machine they had there. I didn't have to make copies, but I did have to take a different picture, because the one I provided didn't have the white background they were looking for. In the basement they had two photo booths that could be used to take passport photos and then print immediately. Once I figured out how it worked, it was convenient; I had a terrible time trying to find something quick and affordable in the US when applying for my visa.
Day Two
I spent a lot of time on the metro, and I went to look at two different apartments, both of which would be about a 30 minute commute to my school. Apartment hunting is difficult; I can't read Chinese well enough to use the Chinese websites. My school provides a helpful document on their website on what to ask about and what to do before signing a lease, but it is still a bit overwhelming since I don't know what's abnormal here.
Jet lag also defeated me for a bit, as I took a nap in the middle of the day. As I was hanging out in my hotel room, I enjoyed having the TV on in the background. I had it on the news in English for a while, but then switched it to Disney Channel, which was in Chinese.
Day Three
In the morning, I moved to a hostel, which is far less expensive than the hotel. The hotel staff were so helpful; they called the taxi for me and made sure the driver had the correct address.
After dropping off my luggage (since it was too early to check in) I went to NTNU (National Taiwan Normal University) to try and open a post office savings account, which I need for my scholarship. It turns out that I need a different type of ID to do this, but I can't get it until my ARC comes, which will be in two weeks. Between this and my time at the immigration office, I can say that trying to do anything that requires paperwork is very stressful when it is in another language. Even though I can try and look up requirements in English before I get there, this doesn't account for individual circumstances or exceptions.
After I recovered from that incident (which my school said was fine, by the way) I went to MTC to wait for orientation to start. Because of the number of students, there were multiple orientations. The opening portion covered visa requirements and various requirements for class. Following that, we had a short tour, picked up our schedules, and bought our books.
For me, the highlight of orientation was getting to meet some of the other students. I love how diverse the population is here, and I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates on Monday. My class will have 8 students total.
Following orientation, I went back to my hostel so I could check in. This took a very long time.
My backpack was heavy with the valuables I didn't leave in the luggage room, since I didn't have a locker yet. In addition, I was now carrying my three new Chinese books (textbook, workbook, character book.)
I made it to Taipei Main Station and proceeded to wander around, trying to find my exit, for at least an hour. I also spent some time sitting so I could rest my back. With two metro lines, buses, the high speed rail, trains, and multiple underground malls, that place is no joke. By the time I finally found the exit I wanted, it was pouring down rain. I spent a little time trying to wait it out, but ultimately decided I just wanted to get back.
After I crossed a busy street, a sweet little lady noticed I had no umbrella. Distressed by this, she pulled me under hers and linked arms with me. It was very kind. After we went separate ways (almost immediately) nearly all of the walk was covered, so it wasn't bad at all.
I think that's enough for now, but stay tuned for my upcoming list of culture shock items!
Day One
After arriving by taxi to my first hotel, I went to a coffee shop suggested by the hotel staff to get breakfast. The only thing I could remember how to say in Chinese at that point (due to a combination of panic and 3 years since my last Chinese class) was "bīng kāfēi" - iced coffee. They had given me a menu so I could point to my first meal in Taiwan. As they set it on the counter, a woman sitting at a table for two moved her bag and gestured for me to sit there since she was almost finished.
I went to my school to do my registration. The biggest portion of this was the placement test they use to determine which class you will be in. I also found out from the scholarship coordinator that MTC (Mandarin Training Center) has over 600 students! My international student ID is definitely the best ID card that's ever happened to me. You can load money onto this and then use it at a myriad of places - the public transportation, participating shops and restaurants, in cabs...apparently it also gives a number of discounts. So far, I have mostly used it while taking the metro.
After leaving my school, I went to the immigration office to apply for my ARC (Alien Resident Card), which I'm required to do within 15 days of arriving. It was like being at the Secretary of State or the DMV; take a number and wait for a long time. I made the mistake of coming during lunch, so it took even longer than I think it would normally. They were on number 653 or so; I was 722. I waited 2 hours to get called up. I noticed a lot of people had to make copies of certain documents, resulting in a line at the copy machine they had there. I didn't have to make copies, but I did have to take a different picture, because the one I provided didn't have the white background they were looking for. In the basement they had two photo booths that could be used to take passport photos and then print immediately. Once I figured out how it worked, it was convenient; I had a terrible time trying to find something quick and affordable in the US when applying for my visa.
Day Two
I spent a lot of time on the metro, and I went to look at two different apartments, both of which would be about a 30 minute commute to my school. Apartment hunting is difficult; I can't read Chinese well enough to use the Chinese websites. My school provides a helpful document on their website on what to ask about and what to do before signing a lease, but it is still a bit overwhelming since I don't know what's abnormal here.
Jet lag also defeated me for a bit, as I took a nap in the middle of the day. As I was hanging out in my hotel room, I enjoyed having the TV on in the background. I had it on the news in English for a while, but then switched it to Disney Channel, which was in Chinese.
Day Three
In the morning, I moved to a hostel, which is far less expensive than the hotel. The hotel staff were so helpful; they called the taxi for me and made sure the driver had the correct address.
After dropping off my luggage (since it was too early to check in) I went to NTNU (National Taiwan Normal University) to try and open a post office savings account, which I need for my scholarship. It turns out that I need a different type of ID to do this, but I can't get it until my ARC comes, which will be in two weeks. Between this and my time at the immigration office, I can say that trying to do anything that requires paperwork is very stressful when it is in another language. Even though I can try and look up requirements in English before I get there, this doesn't account for individual circumstances or exceptions.
After I recovered from that incident (which my school said was fine, by the way) I went to MTC to wait for orientation to start. Because of the number of students, there were multiple orientations. The opening portion covered visa requirements and various requirements for class. Following that, we had a short tour, picked up our schedules, and bought our books.
For me, the highlight of orientation was getting to meet some of the other students. I love how diverse the population is here, and I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates on Monday. My class will have 8 students total.
Following orientation, I went back to my hostel so I could check in. This took a very long time.
My backpack was heavy with the valuables I didn't leave in the luggage room, since I didn't have a locker yet. In addition, I was now carrying my three new Chinese books (textbook, workbook, character book.)
I made it to Taipei Main Station and proceeded to wander around, trying to find my exit, for at least an hour. I also spent some time sitting so I could rest my back. With two metro lines, buses, the high speed rail, trains, and multiple underground malls, that place is no joke. By the time I finally found the exit I wanted, it was pouring down rain. I spent a little time trying to wait it out, but ultimately decided I just wanted to get back.
After I crossed a busy street, a sweet little lady noticed I had no umbrella. Distressed by this, she pulled me under hers and linked arms with me. It was very kind. After we went separate ways (almost immediately) nearly all of the walk was covered, so it wasn't bad at all.
I think that's enough for now, but stay tuned for my upcoming list of culture shock items!
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Fleeing Trump Doesn't Make You a Refugee
After working with refugees for two years in Tucson, one of the things I've become sensitive about is how the word 'refugee' is used in media and conversation. Just today I have seen articles about the first "climate" refugees and a potential upcoming "American refugee crisis to Canada." While Trump is, of course, terrible, fleeing him does not make you a refugee.
In our Refugee 101 training in Tucson, the first thing we talked about was the definition of refugee. Though it might seem insignificant, the definition of refugee is important because it actually determines whether or not a person is eligible to receive protection.
To qualify as a United Nations refugee, a person must meet the following qualifications:
"The 1951 Refugee Convention spells out that a refugee is someone who "owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country." (UNHCR website)
So who is not a refugee?
The two primary misconceptions in this area involve people who:
a) Flee due to economic insecurity
b) Flee due to weather-related emergencies / climate catastrophes
I don't bring this up to diminish the experiences of people who have been through these struggles and disasters, but I do think the difference is significant. A hurricane can't target a specific people group. Economic struggles are complex and while often systemic are more difficult to trace. Since they don't involve direct physical violence, these struggles are in a different category.
People experiencing these challenges deserve support and assistance, but the designation of refugee is kept separate.
In summary, to be a refugee is to have your agency taken from you. Does choice truly exist if your choice is leave or die?
I think the essence of what it is to be a refugee is captured powerfully in this poem by Warsan Shire.
This is what it means to be a refugee. It does not mean that you are unhappy with your politicians. You, at least, still have the ability to be angry with your leaders without having to fear for your life as a result.
In our Refugee 101 training in Tucson, the first thing we talked about was the definition of refugee. Though it might seem insignificant, the definition of refugee is important because it actually determines whether or not a person is eligible to receive protection.
To qualify as a United Nations refugee, a person must meet the following qualifications:
"The 1951 Refugee Convention spells out that a refugee is someone who "owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country." (UNHCR website)
So who is not a refugee?
The two primary misconceptions in this area involve people who:
a) Flee due to economic insecurity
b) Flee due to weather-related emergencies / climate catastrophes
I don't bring this up to diminish the experiences of people who have been through these struggles and disasters, but I do think the difference is significant. A hurricane can't target a specific people group. Economic struggles are complex and while often systemic are more difficult to trace. Since they don't involve direct physical violence, these struggles are in a different category.
People experiencing these challenges deserve support and assistance, but the designation of refugee is kept separate.
In summary, to be a refugee is to have your agency taken from you. Does choice truly exist if your choice is leave or die?
I think the essence of what it is to be a refugee is captured powerfully in this poem by Warsan Shire.
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
This is what it means to be a refugee. It does not mean that you are unhappy with your politicians. You, at least, still have the ability to be angry with your leaders without having to fear for your life as a result.
Saying that you will leave the US and move to Canada if x, y, or z, happens does not make you a refugee. It is an exaggerated expression of frustration that will likely never come to pass. It means you have a choice.
While I understand where people are coming from, I think we should refrain from calling ourselves 'refugees.' Most of us will never be forced to understand that struggle. We should respect that by not trying to claim that term for ourselves.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
a world of hardened hearts
Sometimes I ask myself,
Does any of this matter? Do my words mean anything? Will they have any effect on those who hear them?
Will they result in contemplation or will they be filed into predetermined categories-- right and wrong?
When did right and wrong become synonymous with agree and disagree?
Do people yet exist who grapple for the truth? Who are willing to admit their shortcomings, their assumptions, their ignorance? Who want to push beyond that place into one of growth and learning?
Will you question and research and consider before making a judgment? Or are we locked in a futile battle in which no one will change sides? Is your opinion a locked door, and will you refuse to open it even if I find the key?
I want to believe that we are not a world of hardened hearts. I want to believe that people yet exist who care more about doing what is right than being right (or proving another wrong).
For some of us, it is a world of rhetoric. For others, it is life and death.
"God help me distinguish between a true desire for justice, goodness, and mercy and the compulsive need to be proven right." - Rachel Held Evans
Does any of this matter? Do my words mean anything? Will they have any effect on those who hear them?
Will they result in contemplation or will they be filed into predetermined categories-- right and wrong?
When did right and wrong become synonymous with agree and disagree?
Do people yet exist who grapple for the truth? Who are willing to admit their shortcomings, their assumptions, their ignorance? Who want to push beyond that place into one of growth and learning?
Will you question and research and consider before making a judgment? Or are we locked in a futile battle in which no one will change sides? Is your opinion a locked door, and will you refuse to open it even if I find the key?
I want to believe that we are not a world of hardened hearts. I want to believe that people yet exist who care more about doing what is right than being right (or proving another wrong).
For some of us, it is a world of rhetoric. For others, it is life and death.
"God help me distinguish between a true desire for justice, goodness, and mercy and the compulsive need to be proven right." - Rachel Held Evans
Friday, March 6, 2015
from the land where the sun still shines ~
I realized I have only posted one blog so far this year, so I'm trying to rectify that. My problem is that I don't know what to say. I feel like so much is happening but I have no way to describe it, at least not coherently. But I will do my best.
At work, I've been focusing on several different areas:
Food Workshops - We are trying to develop locally made products that can then be sold at the Farmers Market to support Iskashitaa. We're experimenting with some lesser known food resources--carob powder and Seville oranges, for example--and making a lot of unique food items. I try to schedule at least one workshop each week, and we've been making progress with the help of our main food workshop volunteer, Cadie.
I'm also working on scheduling food demonstrations for refugee cooks to teach one of their recipes using a local food item. At our first demo, we made Seville Orange Swirls and Seville orange juice, learning from a competent Iraqi cook. [This is particularly significant because Sevilles are sour and lots of people here view them as ornamental/useless, and they are everywhere.] Our next workshop is coming up in April, and we'll be learning to make lemon pickle relish from a Bhutanese woman.
Faith Based Groups - I continue to try to work on Iskashitaa's connections with various faith-based groups around Tucson. I've been giving lots of presentations, particularly to United Methodist Women's groups, and working on various service projects with church groups/youth groups.
Food for Thought - This is a bi-monthly community potluck that I have been coordinating/developing for the past year or so. It is held at different churches around town, and we invite the congregations/community members/refugees to attend and bring a dish made from a family recipe. These gatherings are so much fun, and the amount of delicious food is overwhelming. Witnessing people come together across cultures to share food and get to know one another is one my favorite parts of working with Iskashitaa. The next potluck is coming up later this month, and I'm hopeful that it will be our best yet!
Citrus Season - This is primarily affecting the work of my colleague, Chloe, who is our harvesting coordinator. We are in the thick of citrus season, which is the busiest time of the year for us. We get several calls every day from homeowners interested in scheduling a harvest to donate their fruit. Right now, we are scheduled through the beginning of April with 2 harvests each week (and each harvest including multiple properties.) Tomorrow, we are going to a mobile home complex with 39 trees, and later this month, we'll be returning to an orchard with 100 trees for the second time this citrus season with a group from a local church. We have lemons, oranges, blood oranges, tangelos, pomelos, tangerines, Seville oranges, white grapefruit, pink grapefruit, and ruby red grapefruit. Grapefruit. We have more grapefruit than you have ever seen in your life. Really.
I've also been enjoying life outside of work:
Family Visits - My dad came to visit for a week in February, and we had a great time visiting Mount Lemmon, harvesting at Iskashitaa, spending time with my friends, and enjoying some of Tucson's incredible restaurants. Dad also enjoyed working on a variety of projects around our house, including but not limited to our freezer, our doors, and our shower rods. Next up is my mom visiting in a couple weeks, and we'll be going to the Grand Canyon & Sedona before coming down to Tucson. Then, in April, Erica will *hopefully* be coming to stay, too! I'm also holding out for visits from a few of my friends...
Concerts & Performances - Last Friday I got to see the show "Guys & Dolls" with my housemate, Kay. It was my first time to see the show, and it was fantastic! Last Saturday, I went to a special concert celebrating Black History Month featuring some locally known ethnic bands, and a few Iskashitaa musicians opened for them! It was such a fun night to spend dancing and talking with friends.
Time with Friends - In January, I got to spend a weekend in Flagstaff relaxing with some of my friends from the university. Since the New Year, my friend & former US-2 Darlene and I have started taking walks and having dinner together once a week. We have also had a couple potluck parties at my house that have been incredibly fun, especially when they featured impromptu singing/piano performances from some of my friends! I also continue to attend Wesley Foundation every Wednesday, and I'm also enjoying co-leading a Bible study for Wesley every Sunday.
It is hard for me to believe how quickly time seems to be passing. It is now March, and my program ends in July! I have busy months ahead of me, and I know the time will be gone soon. Because of that, I'm beginning to think about what I want to do with the time I have left and how best to value it. I'm also thinking about what I need to do at Iskashitaa so that I can leave things in a good place for whoever comes along after me.
I'm also enjoying the beautiful weather here...sorry to all my friends and family suffering in the cold! As my dear friend Joy says, this has been an update from the land where the sun still shines.
At work, I've been focusing on several different areas:
Food Workshops - We are trying to develop locally made products that can then be sold at the Farmers Market to support Iskashitaa. We're experimenting with some lesser known food resources--carob powder and Seville oranges, for example--and making a lot of unique food items. I try to schedule at least one workshop each week, and we've been making progress with the help of our main food workshop volunteer, Cadie.
I'm also working on scheduling food demonstrations for refugee cooks to teach one of their recipes using a local food item. At our first demo, we made Seville Orange Swirls and Seville orange juice, learning from a competent Iraqi cook. [This is particularly significant because Sevilles are sour and lots of people here view them as ornamental/useless, and they are everywhere.] Our next workshop is coming up in April, and we'll be learning to make lemon pickle relish from a Bhutanese woman.
 |
| Seville Orange Swirls |
Food for Thought - This is a bi-monthly community potluck that I have been coordinating/developing for the past year or so. It is held at different churches around town, and we invite the congregations/community members/refugees to attend and bring a dish made from a family recipe. These gatherings are so much fun, and the amount of delicious food is overwhelming. Witnessing people come together across cultures to share food and get to know one another is one my favorite parts of working with Iskashitaa. The next potluck is coming up later this month, and I'm hopeful that it will be our best yet!
 |
| Our most recent Food for Thought dinner, held at St James UMC in January, had 60+ guests! |
I've also been enjoying life outside of work:
Family Visits - My dad came to visit for a week in February, and we had a great time visiting Mount Lemmon, harvesting at Iskashitaa, spending time with my friends, and enjoying some of Tucson's incredible restaurants. Dad also enjoyed working on a variety of projects around our house, including but not limited to our freezer, our doors, and our shower rods. Next up is my mom visiting in a couple weeks, and we'll be going to the Grand Canyon & Sedona before coming down to Tucson. Then, in April, Erica will *hopefully* be coming to stay, too! I'm also holding out for visits from a few of my friends...
Concerts & Performances - Last Friday I got to see the show "Guys & Dolls" with my housemate, Kay. It was my first time to see the show, and it was fantastic! Last Saturday, I went to a special concert celebrating Black History Month featuring some locally known ethnic bands, and a few Iskashitaa musicians opened for them! It was such a fun night to spend dancing and talking with friends.
Time with Friends - In January, I got to spend a weekend in Flagstaff relaxing with some of my friends from the university. Since the New Year, my friend & former US-2 Darlene and I have started taking walks and having dinner together once a week. We have also had a couple potluck parties at my house that have been incredibly fun, especially when they featured impromptu singing/piano performances from some of my friends! I also continue to attend Wesley Foundation every Wednesday, and I'm also enjoying co-leading a Bible study for Wesley every Sunday.
It is hard for me to believe how quickly time seems to be passing. It is now March, and my program ends in July! I have busy months ahead of me, and I know the time will be gone soon. Because of that, I'm beginning to think about what I want to do with the time I have left and how best to value it. I'm also thinking about what I need to do at Iskashitaa so that I can leave things in a good place for whoever comes along after me.
I'm also enjoying the beautiful weather here...sorry to all my friends and family suffering in the cold! As my dear friend Joy says, this has been an update from the land where the sun still shines.
 |
| A recent harvest done by a local youth group in one afternoon! |
Saturday, January 24, 2015
that's how it is
"It's too bad, but that's just how it is."With these words, many a "decent" person can dismiss injustices with a clear conscience. It is not such a difficult thing to do when faced with the overwhelming problems in our world: terrorism, drug cartels, corrupt governments, starving children, refugee camps, systemic injustices, racism, human trafficking, natural disasters. pollution, diseases...the list goes on. The fact that it is not possible for one person to address all of these wrongs seems to make it easier to justify not trying at all. The difference would be minuscule, so what's the point in trying?
I wonder if this was the thought process of the people who turned their backs on the Jews during the Holocaust, or refused to help the slaves seeking freedom in the northern US and Canada. It was too bad, but what could they really do to help? It is as if by recognizing that the situation is regrettable, we absolve ourselves of doing anything about it. As long as the injustice is not our reality, it is not at the forefront of our minds. After all, we donate our unwanted clothes, and contribute cans to the food drive, and volunteer occasionally, and give some extra cash to that charity. Isn't that enough? Because sure, the problems are there, but since we cannot imagine solving them in our lifetimes, we just have to accept it: that's how it is. It's too bad, but that's just how it is.
I do not want this to be my life. I do not want to be the person who turns away from the fight for justice because it is difficult and overwhelming. I want to recognize that even when change seems impossible, by neglecting to try we make that impossibility a certainty.
I refuse to accept "that's how it is."
I want my life to be about changing and challenging "that's how it is."
I want "that's how it is" to become "that's how it was."
Sunday, November 23, 2014
claim the name
When I was eleven, I went through confirmation at my home church, Bellevue UMC. It was during this time that I first heard the song Sanctuary, when we went to District Conference. We all loved the song, and so during our official confirmation, on Easter Sunday, we all played the song together on our instruments. Then, after speaking the words which confirmed our faith and affirmed our baptisms, we received Bibles. On the front cover were the words, "Claim the Name." This was the theme of our confirmation time--claim the name of Disciple of Jesus.
This idea of "claiming the name" comes to mind whenever I think about the term "missionary." In August 2013, I was commissioned as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. It can be challenging to claim the name of missionary for several reasons:
The word "missionary" often carries negative connotations.
What do you think of when you think of missionaries? Often what comes to mind first is the idea of someone going to another country with intent to convert, frequently in culturally-insensitive fashion. Arrogant, self-righteous, hypocritical, and closed-minded are some other terms that hit the mark. With these ideas in mind, I hesitate to label myself as a missionary for fear of what others might think of me.
Something central for my fellow missionaries and myself has been the need to redefine missionary. Many others in my program have shared stories about needing to reassure colleagues and friends that they "aren't that type of missionary." So what type of missionaries are we?
To me, it boils down to seeking justice in faith. The "in faith" part is incredibly important--it is the reason behind the action, the foundation beneath my work. . The justice part is also crucial. My mission is not only to live a life founded on my faith, but to live with the intent to alleviate suffering, to fight for justice, to live with compassion, and to love our neighbors. To me, faith and justice are intertwined and inseparable.
This is not a negative definition. So why is it still so hard to claim the title of missionary?
Because it is so much to live up to.
Being a missionary means I have accepted not only the challenge of working for justice, but also the challenge to grow in my faith and to remain connected with the church community. As a result, I feel the need to hold myself to a higher standard. I hesitate to claim the title in everyday life because I pressure myself to be perfect, and I fear the judgment of others when I cannot live up to it. In essence, it comes down to my own pride and my tendency to try to do everything myself instead of relying on God and remembering the assurance of grace.
I hope that I can get better at claiming the name of missionary rather than focusing on my fear of what others might think. After all, if my faith in God is so important to me, if it is what has brought me to this place, I should not be ashamed of it.
This idea of "claiming the name" comes to mind whenever I think about the term "missionary." In August 2013, I was commissioned as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. It can be challenging to claim the name of missionary for several reasons:
The word "missionary" often carries negative connotations.
What do you think of when you think of missionaries? Often what comes to mind first is the idea of someone going to another country with intent to convert, frequently in culturally-insensitive fashion. Arrogant, self-righteous, hypocritical, and closed-minded are some other terms that hit the mark. With these ideas in mind, I hesitate to label myself as a missionary for fear of what others might think of me.
Something central for my fellow missionaries and myself has been the need to redefine missionary. Many others in my program have shared stories about needing to reassure colleagues and friends that they "aren't that type of missionary." So what type of missionaries are we?
To me, it boils down to seeking justice in faith. The "in faith" part is incredibly important--it is the reason behind the action, the foundation beneath my work. . The justice part is also crucial. My mission is not only to live a life founded on my faith, but to live with the intent to alleviate suffering, to fight for justice, to live with compassion, and to love our neighbors. To me, faith and justice are intertwined and inseparable.
This is not a negative definition. So why is it still so hard to claim the title of missionary?
Because it is so much to live up to.
Being a missionary means I have accepted not only the challenge of working for justice, but also the challenge to grow in my faith and to remain connected with the church community. As a result, I feel the need to hold myself to a higher standard. I hesitate to claim the title in everyday life because I pressure myself to be perfect, and I fear the judgment of others when I cannot live up to it. In essence, it comes down to my own pride and my tendency to try to do everything myself instead of relying on God and remembering the assurance of grace.
I hope that I can get better at claiming the name of missionary rather than focusing on my fear of what others might think. After all, if my faith in God is so important to me, if it is what has brought me to this place, I should not be ashamed of it.
Monday, November 3, 2014
save the squash!
But what about all those patches full pumpkins never picked? These nutritious, long-lasting food resources rot away while all over the US, people are struggling with hunger and food insecurity.
It is hard to comprehend the sheer scope of the waste. Right now I can't find any data to help us wrap our minds around the amount of pumpkins that go to waste each year. I did find that 1.4 billion pounds of pumpkins/squash are produced in the US each year--and how much of that do you think is leftover after Halloween? My guess is, a depressingly high amount.
For our harvesting crew, though, it was a beautiful day and we were in high-spirits as we rescued the most palatable, nutritious, and long-lasting squash from rotting away. We focused on varieties of squash less-known to most Americans while the Bhutanese with us scoured the field for the freshest pumpkin leaves.
I challenge you: call up some local pumpkin farms to see if they would be willing to donate any of their leftover pumpkins/squash, and take some back to your church, food bank, or nonprofit. Then try out some new recipes and see what you find.
In the meantime, enjoy these pictures from our Saturday outing, taken from the Iskashitaa Facebook page!
It is hard to comprehend the sheer scope of the waste. Right now I can't find any data to help us wrap our minds around the amount of pumpkins that go to waste each year. I did find that 1.4 billion pounds of pumpkins/squash are produced in the US each year--and how much of that do you think is leftover after Halloween? My guess is, a depressingly high amount.
For our harvesting crew, though, it was a beautiful day and we were in high-spirits as we rescued the most palatable, nutritious, and long-lasting squash from rotting away. We focused on varieties of squash less-known to most Americans while the Bhutanese with us scoured the field for the freshest pumpkin leaves.
 |
| We filled two pickup trucks and the back of the Iskashitaa cargo van with squash and pumpkins! |
Squash will be a fixture at the Iskashitaa office for the next six months since our only limit was the space in the vehicles we brought. I'm hoping to experiment with some recipes to see how I can better incorporate pumpkin into my diet, and to encourage my friends and family members to do so, too!
I challenge you: call up some local pumpkin farms to see if they would be willing to donate any of their leftover pumpkins/squash, and take some back to your church, food bank, or nonprofit. Then try out some new recipes and see what you find.
In the meantime, enjoy these pictures from our Saturday outing, taken from the Iskashitaa Facebook page!
 |
| I had fun harvesting with my friends! Normally I only see them before/after harvests. |
 |
| An expansive field on a beautiful morning. |
 |
| These squash are incredibly heavy! I could only carry one at a time. |
 |
| We had a great sized group for our Saturday morning harvest! We had volunteers from Presybterian Campus Ministry, St. Thomas the Apostle Church, and the Young Adult Volunteers program. |
Thursday, October 30, 2014
sincere reality
I have been trying in vain to write an update for weeks. Somehow, everything I try to write feels empty. I don't know how to describe my experiences in words that are meaningful enough.
I can't believe how lucky I am to be in this position. How could anyone not want a job like mine? I know lots of people wouldn't want it, but for me it is so wonderful that I can't imagine not wanting to do it. (At least, not most of the time! Everyone has their stressful days.)
I know so many incredible people and I get to spend time with people from countries all over the world. My life is full of laughter. I learn to draw, to make date vinegar & date syrup, to say words in new languages, to try new foods, and to consider things from a new point of view.
My international friends are funny and loving. They have real problems and care about real solutions. They have real hearts and real dreams and real joy. This sense of reality is something I have longed for. It's beyond surface level; sincerity in every sense.
My friends inspire me. Many of them are people who have been through hardships I can't even imagine or comprehend. And even now, the challenges continue. But they are here. They have chosen life. They have chosen hope. When I am struggling, they inspire hope in me.
My friends are from many countries, many languages, many cultures, many religions, many backgrounds. I see God in all of them.
I can't believe how lucky I am to be in this position. How could anyone not want a job like mine? I know lots of people wouldn't want it, but for me it is so wonderful that I can't imagine not wanting to do it. (At least, not most of the time! Everyone has their stressful days.)
I know so many incredible people and I get to spend time with people from countries all over the world. My life is full of laughter. I learn to draw, to make date vinegar & date syrup, to say words in new languages, to try new foods, and to consider things from a new point of view.
My international friends are funny and loving. They have real problems and care about real solutions. They have real hearts and real dreams and real joy. This sense of reality is something I have longed for. It's beyond surface level; sincerity in every sense.
My friends inspire me. Many of them are people who have been through hardships I can't even imagine or comprehend. And even now, the challenges continue. But they are here. They have chosen life. They have chosen hope. When I am struggling, they inspire hope in me.
My friends are from many countries, many languages, many cultures, many religions, many backgrounds. I see God in all of them.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Sabbath
When I was in college, I remember once talking to a friend about how overwhelmed I felt. "If only I had one day," I said. "Just one day a week, where I could rest." Pause. "...maybe that's what a Sabbath is for."
Sabbath. The name given for the day of rest.
It can be difficult to recognize a need for Sabbath. In the USA, we are Busy people in a Busy culture. We don't mean to say yes to everything, but, who would do it if we didn't? I think most everyone who is overwhelmed with the Busyness that leads to Burnout has good intentions. But I think some of these unhealthy practices can deteriorate into dangerous (and often subconscious) patterns of thought.
God took time to rest after creating the world. If God rested from work, who am I to say that I don't need rest? Isn't that like saying my work is more important than God's work? Is refusing to rest similar to thinking I am indispensable? Might I not begin to think that my projects cannot be done without me? In reality, the only One necessary in any situation is God, and trying to keep this thought in mind has helped me to feel less pressure and also, I hope, to be less prideful.
If I want my life to be meaningful, I need to take care of myself. How can I contribute to a community if I am overworked to the point that I am fatigued, irritable, and frazzled? How can I strive towards my goals with quality if I can't keep track of my obligations?
These are some of the reasons that I try to have boundaries between my work life and home life. I try not to work from home so that I will not associate my home with work. I try to get enough sleep every night so that I do not lose patience with others due to my fatigue. This is not to say that I am always successful. I am far from that.
At mid-terms, we talked about Sabbath. It reminded me of the importance of rest, and more specifically, the importance of a rest that involves rejuvenation through God. I left that session feeling hopeful that I can recommit to a regular Sabbath. I don't want it to be something legalistic, because then it just becomes another obligation. Rather, I hope that by intentionally practicing Sabbath, I can become more and more the person that God intended me to be.
I'll end with an under-edited poem that I wrote during mid-terms about what Sabbath is to me.
sabbath
at dawn my dreams are not cut short
and I experience them in their entirety
the extensive expectations of the world are lifted
and obligations cannot bind me.
my shadow dances under the sun
the grass is soft between my toes
and I feel connected to the Earth
wondering at the life it contains
holding us to it through threads of gravity.
I can respond to the call of books on my shelf
an invitation to learn from another's story
the library's quiet welcomes me and
invites me to the edge of enlightenment.
my ink spills onto paper
its mess makes sense of my mixed up mind
emotions flow from fingertips to keys
transposing my soul into song.
I make space for creation
magnificent mountains and empty riverbeds
desert plants, flourishing
in a dry and forbidding land
the land of the living is not without danger
the water from the well of life is not easily drawn
hope sometimes hides from me
yet the Spirit on Sabbath bids me--
come. drink deeply. breathe fully. find your hope once more.
Sabbath. The name given for the day of rest.
It can be difficult to recognize a need for Sabbath. In the USA, we are Busy people in a Busy culture. We don't mean to say yes to everything, but, who would do it if we didn't? I think most everyone who is overwhelmed with the Busyness that leads to Burnout has good intentions. But I think some of these unhealthy practices can deteriorate into dangerous (and often subconscious) patterns of thought.
God took time to rest after creating the world. If God rested from work, who am I to say that I don't need rest? Isn't that like saying my work is more important than God's work? Is refusing to rest similar to thinking I am indispensable? Might I not begin to think that my projects cannot be done without me? In reality, the only One necessary in any situation is God, and trying to keep this thought in mind has helped me to feel less pressure and also, I hope, to be less prideful.
If I want my life to be meaningful, I need to take care of myself. How can I contribute to a community if I am overworked to the point that I am fatigued, irritable, and frazzled? How can I strive towards my goals with quality if I can't keep track of my obligations?
These are some of the reasons that I try to have boundaries between my work life and home life. I try not to work from home so that I will not associate my home with work. I try to get enough sleep every night so that I do not lose patience with others due to my fatigue. This is not to say that I am always successful. I am far from that.
At mid-terms, we talked about Sabbath. It reminded me of the importance of rest, and more specifically, the importance of a rest that involves rejuvenation through God. I left that session feeling hopeful that I can recommit to a regular Sabbath. I don't want it to be something legalistic, because then it just becomes another obligation. Rather, I hope that by intentionally practicing Sabbath, I can become more and more the person that God intended me to be.
I'll end with an under-edited poem that I wrote during mid-terms about what Sabbath is to me.
sabbath
at dawn my dreams are not cut short
and I experience them in their entirety
the extensive expectations of the world are lifted
and obligations cannot bind me.
my shadow dances under the sun
the grass is soft between my toes
and I feel connected to the Earth
wondering at the life it contains
holding us to it through threads of gravity.
I can respond to the call of books on my shelf
an invitation to learn from another's story
the library's quiet welcomes me and
invites me to the edge of enlightenment.
my ink spills onto paper
its mess makes sense of my mixed up mind
emotions flow from fingertips to keys
transposing my soul into song.
I make space for creation
magnificent mountains and empty riverbeds
desert plants, flourishing
in a dry and forbidding land
the land of the living is not without danger
the water from the well of life is not easily drawn
hope sometimes hides from me
yet the Spirit on Sabbath bids me--
come. drink deeply. breathe fully. find your hope once more.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
crown of joy
A few months ago, I did a presentation with Barbara at the Church Women United's May Friendship Day. After the program, a couple came up to me and shared that they had been through the United Methodist mission programs near the time they had been founded. They met at their training and fell in love; they were then separated for 3 years while one was a J-3 and the other a P-3, going to Japan for 3 years and the Philippines for 3 years, respectively. After they came back, they were married within two months. It's a story fit for cinema.
This is one of the meaningful parts of being a US-2: meeting those who participated in my program in the past, receiving their encouragement, and having the opportunity to hear their stories and where their journeys took them.
This couple in particular had a special connection to me.
"We named our daughter Stephanie, too. Of course she's older than you."
I smiled. "It's a good name."
"Yes, we picked it out because it means 'crown.' And her middle name was "Joy", so she was "Crown of Joy."
I stared at them a moment and then repeated, "Your daughter's name is Stephanie Joy?"
"Yes--is that--?"
"But that's my name."
I can't describe in words what an intimate and meaningful moment this was. The husband had tears in his eyes, and his wife said, "You must be your parents' crown of joy, too."
This is just one of the many special connections I have experienced since beginning my journey as a US-2. Though I have met other people named Stephanie, and other people with the middle name Joy, I've never actually met anyone else named Stephanie Joy. Crown of Joy. Though I have known that my name means "crown" or "crowned one" for many years, somehow I never thought about my name's meaning in its entirety. Crown of Joy.
I think one of the reasons I have thought about joy so deeply is because it is part of my name, and I am ever trying to live up to my name. This is not always easy, particularly when I forget that it will not be possible apart from God. I have already written a post with some thoughts on the nature of joy, but I am still pondering what it means to be a crown of joy, and perhaps I always will.
This is one of the meaningful parts of being a US-2: meeting those who participated in my program in the past, receiving their encouragement, and having the opportunity to hear their stories and where their journeys took them.
This couple in particular had a special connection to me.
"We named our daughter Stephanie, too. Of course she's older than you."
I smiled. "It's a good name."
"Yes, we picked it out because it means 'crown.' And her middle name was "Joy", so she was "Crown of Joy."
I stared at them a moment and then repeated, "Your daughter's name is Stephanie Joy?"
"Yes--is that--?"
"But that's my name."
I can't describe in words what an intimate and meaningful moment this was. The husband had tears in his eyes, and his wife said, "You must be your parents' crown of joy, too."
This is just one of the many special connections I have experienced since beginning my journey as a US-2. Though I have met other people named Stephanie, and other people with the middle name Joy, I've never actually met anyone else named Stephanie Joy. Crown of Joy. Though I have known that my name means "crown" or "crowned one" for many years, somehow I never thought about my name's meaning in its entirety. Crown of Joy.
I think one of the reasons I have thought about joy so deeply is because it is part of my name, and I am ever trying to live up to my name. This is not always easy, particularly when I forget that it will not be possible apart from God. I have already written a post with some thoughts on the nature of joy, but I am still pondering what it means to be a crown of joy, and perhaps I always will.
Monday, September 1, 2014
oceans
I have always loved the water. Lakes are abundant in Michigan, and on my list of Things I miss, being near water is second only to my friends/family. But as much as I love the lakes, I still feel more connected to the ocean. I attribute this mostly to the summer weeks I spent in Milford, CT throughout my childhood, staying on the Long Island Sound with 40+ family members. Over the years, my cousins and I have developed our skills in sand castle building, finding sea glass and shells, catching jellyfish, hermit crabs, and all manner of other creatures, planning for the tides (sandbar at low tide, swimming at high tide), and more...My memories are filled with joy, and the connection to the ocean is a part of it.
Yet even beyond that, the ocean stirs something deeper in me.
the smell of salt water and
grains of sand beneath my feet
the sound of the waves greeting the shore
water stretching as far as I can see
knowing that the ocean holds life
yet it is powerful and dangerous
it is peace and passion, life and longing
and I feel awe and yearning
This feeling of awe and yearning is something I feel whenever I stop to appreciate creation. I think it has to do with recognizing the beauty of God's work, and with that the knowledge that there is something more, some longing in my heart that God alone can address. And, I feel something more--a sense of call. It is something I cannot always articulate, but it is a deep conviction that I must go.
I love Oceans by Hillsong because it expresses my feelings so well.
You call me out upon the waters
the great unknown, where feet may fail
and there I find You in the mystery
in oceans deep, my faith will stand
so I will call upon Your name
and keep my eyes above the waves
when oceans rise
my soul will rest in Your embrace
for I am Yours
and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed
and You won't start now
Responding to God's call is not something easy, or clear, or even safe (by worldly standards). Because God calls His followers to bring His light to the darkness, we may walk a path where feet may fail. Fear surrounds me, and the injustice seems overwhelming, and the very water that I so love threatens even to drown me. Yet somehow, in the deepest oceans and the roughest waves, I find You. Despite the great unknown, the mystery, the fear, and the failure....Your grace abounds.
I visited the Pacific Ocean on Saturday. And I felt life, and I felt joy, and I felt God. And despite the overwhelming injustices surrounding us, I still believe You will lead us out of the darkness.
Yet even beyond that, the ocean stirs something deeper in me.
the smell of salt water and
grains of sand beneath my feet
the sound of the waves greeting the shore
water stretching as far as I can see
knowing that the ocean holds life
yet it is powerful and dangerous
it is peace and passion, life and longing
and I feel awe and yearning
This feeling of awe and yearning is something I feel whenever I stop to appreciate creation. I think it has to do with recognizing the beauty of God's work, and with that the knowledge that there is something more, some longing in my heart that God alone can address. And, I feel something more--a sense of call. It is something I cannot always articulate, but it is a deep conviction that I must go.
I love Oceans by Hillsong because it expresses my feelings so well.
You call me out upon the waters
the great unknown, where feet may fail
and there I find You in the mystery
in oceans deep, my faith will stand
so I will call upon Your name
and keep my eyes above the waves
when oceans rise
my soul will rest in Your embrace
for I am Yours
and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed
and You won't start now
Responding to God's call is not something easy, or clear, or even safe (by worldly standards). Because God calls His followers to bring His light to the darkness, we may walk a path where feet may fail. Fear surrounds me, and the injustice seems overwhelming, and the very water that I so love threatens even to drown me. Yet somehow, in the deepest oceans and the roughest waves, I find You. Despite the great unknown, the mystery, the fear, and the failure....Your grace abounds.
I visited the Pacific Ocean on Saturday. And I felt life, and I felt joy, and I felt God. And despite the overwhelming injustices surrounding us, I still believe You will lead us out of the darkness.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
we wait upon the day
The Lord said, "What have you done? Listen! Your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground." -Genesis 4:10
In the aftermath of tragedy, I wonder, God, do you still hear the blood of the innocent, crying out to you for justice? Can you hear the echoes of each individual soul? From Iraq to Gaza to Syria to Ferguson, and beyond? To the places that no one has heard of, but where injustice reigns seemingly unopposed?
I feel my heart breaking. People around me mourn, with hearts more broken than mine, in the wake of horrors happening in a place they called home. And I wonder, God, does your heart break, too?
I believe that it does.
Have I not prayed, Break my heart for what breaks yours? My heart breaks, but I cannot resent the pain. The day injustice no longer breaks my heart is the day I am no longer myself.
Yet my heart and soul cry out, and I identify with Habakkuk. (1:2-4)
How long, oh Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, "Violence!" but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.
Have mercy on us. We wait upon the day. We seek justice and love mercy, and we wait upon the day.
And I remember that Habakkuk ends in hope.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet feel like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.
-Habakkuk 3:17-19
May injustice ever break my heart.
May I never close my senses to truth.
May You show us the way out of the darkness.
In the aftermath of tragedy, I wonder, God, do you still hear the blood of the innocent, crying out to you for justice? Can you hear the echoes of each individual soul? From Iraq to Gaza to Syria to Ferguson, and beyond? To the places that no one has heard of, but where injustice reigns seemingly unopposed?
I feel my heart breaking. People around me mourn, with hearts more broken than mine, in the wake of horrors happening in a place they called home. And I wonder, God, does your heart break, too?
I believe that it does.
Have I not prayed, Break my heart for what breaks yours? My heart breaks, but I cannot resent the pain. The day injustice no longer breaks my heart is the day I am no longer myself.
Yet my heart and soul cry out, and I identify with Habakkuk. (1:2-4)
How long, oh Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, "Violence!" but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.
Have mercy on us. We wait upon the day. We seek justice and love mercy, and we wait upon the day.
And I remember that Habakkuk ends in hope.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet feel like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.
-Habakkuk 3:17-19
May injustice ever break my heart.
May I never close my senses to truth.
May You show us the way out of the darkness.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Conference Quotes
My past week has been saturated with conference activities. I have been to two different conferences in this time--and I am still at the second conference!
My current conference is called the North American Roundtable and it is put on by the Refugee Highway Partnership. People from all over North America have gathered at Grand Canyon University in Phoenix to share best practices, to give encouragement, and to learn from one another.
I have been to so many sessions that I don't know where to start! For this post, I am just going to share some facts about refugees and some quotes from the speakers that have stood out to me.
My current conference is called the North American Roundtable and it is put on by the Refugee Highway Partnership. People from all over North America have gathered at Grand Canyon University in Phoenix to share best practices, to give encouragement, and to learn from one another.
I have been to so many sessions that I don't know where to start! For this post, I am just going to share some facts about refugees and some quotes from the speakers that have stood out to me.
- There are 15 million refugees in the world. This number includes people who have crossed an international border to escape persecution. It does not include the many millions of people who are internally displaced (people who have fled their home but are still within their country's borders.)
- Half of the world's refugees are children.
- Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya has 150,000 people living in it, and 3000 new arrivals come each week.
- Colombia currently has more forcibly displaced people than any other country in the world.
Notable Quotes:
- "He's not listening [to the speaker]. He's in the back reading his Bible." Dr. Kigabo Mbazumuntima
- Charity is transactional, not transformational. What transforms people is not intervention, but investment. -Dr. Gary Kinnaman
- "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! This is the language of heaven." -Rose Mapendo
- "Anger is contagious. You can infect everyone you interact with." -Rose Mapendo
- Wholeheartedness is not a noisy virtue. -Dr. Larrie Gardner
- "What do we do at my organization? We do weird stuff that's hard to explain." -Cody Lorance
- The graveyard is full of indispensable people. -Randy Reynolds
- "The cost of ministry is more than we know." -Randy Reynolds
- Jesus did not fix every problem in Israel. -Dr. Larrie Gardner
I want to emphasize that these are simply quotes that stood out to me in the moment and that I had the time and energy to write down. Some of these are moments of humor, but the presenters did share wonderful information. If you click on the links above, you can learn more about some of the speakers. All of the presentations I have heard have been excellent, and hopefully in the next few days I can share about them in more detail.
For those of you who are wondering why some of the quotes are in quotations and others aren't, those in quotations are direct quotes I wrote down. The others I may have read in their presentation or heard during their presentation but the quote itself may have originally come from a different source. I am not sure, so if you are sure, let me know and I will update for accuracy!
For those of you who are wondering why some of the quotes are in quotations and others aren't, those in quotations are direct quotes I wrote down. The others I may have read in their presentation or heard during their presentation but the quote itself may have originally come from a different source. I am not sure, so if you are sure, let me know and I will update for accuracy!
Saturday, July 12, 2014
A Car, Kindness, and Conferences
This was an exciting week for me, mainly because I now have a CAR! I have been looking for several months now, and it feels surreal to finally have something. My car is a 2005 Hyundai Elantra. I am still figuring out what her name is, but she is blue! My car has already been making my life dramatically easier, and I feel like a "true" Arizonan with my Arizona license plate.
These were some other highlights of the week:
-On Tuesday, I went to the St. Francis UMC's Council on Ministries. It is a monthly event for church committee meetings. I met the new pastor of St. Francis, invited congregation members to the dinner we are having next week, and engaged in enjoyable and meaningful conversations about outreach and ministry.
-On Thursday, all the women in our office got temporary "Be Kind" tattoos. (I found some in a drawer I was organizing.) Be Kind is the motto of Ben's Bells, a local organization which promotes and recognizes acts of kindness.
-Thursday evening, we had our monthly Refugee 101 Volunteer Training. Heather and I give this presentation together. It is a long day, but I always enjoy it because the information is so interesting and the attendees are always so engaged. I love teaching people about refugee resettlement and having conversations with them about their own experiences with refugees.
-On Thursday night, I spent time with my friend Carly. We went out for a light meal of an appetizer and dessert. Our dessert was a s'mores pizookie and it was amazing -- chocolate cookie with peanut butter, marshmallow, and ice cream. (Pizookie=pizza cookie and I am convinced it is an Arizona thing, though you are welcome to tell me if you've had one elsewhere.)
This week at Iskashitaa we harvested figs and dragonfruit! I now have a dozen fresh figs in my refrigerator!
-Last night, I spent the night at the YAV house (the house for the Presbyterian Young Adult Volunteers) with my friends Amy Beth and Heather.We made quinua pizza balls, watched Mean Girls, saw the sunset, and overall had a very enjoyable time.
The next couple weeks will be busy for me:
-On Monday, I'm attending a Food Safety class so I can get a Food Safety Certification in Pima County. I'm also planning to go to the DMV so I can register to vote in Arizona.
-On Wednesday, we are having our Food for Thought Potluck Dinner at St. Francis. This is a dinner we have every other month that I coordinate. It is meant to be a time of community building and a time for refugees to share their traditional foods. We usually have wonderful conversations, and at our last dinner we also got to hear some wonderful music!
-On Thursday, I'm going to a conference in Phoenix called Mission U. This is a conference put on annually by the United Methodist Women. I'm taking two different programs -- the Roma of Europe and the Church & People with Disabilities. I think it will be very informative and a great opportunity to connect with United Methodist Women in the Desert Southwest. I'm also leading a Focus Group where I will share about Iskashitaa and the US-2 program. The UMW gave me a scholarship to attend this conference, so I am very grateful and excited!
-After I get back from Mission U, I'm headed off to another conference called the North American Round Table. This is a conference held annually at a different location somewhere in North America, and this year it is in Phoenix. It is a gathering for people in ministry with refugees. At this conference I'm doing a table talk about Iskashitaa's harvesting model. I'm looking forward to meeting people who work with refugees around the continent!
These were some other highlights of the week:
-On Tuesday, I went to the St. Francis UMC's Council on Ministries. It is a monthly event for church committee meetings. I met the new pastor of St. Francis, invited congregation members to the dinner we are having next week, and engaged in enjoyable and meaningful conversations about outreach and ministry.
-On Thursday, all the women in our office got temporary "Be Kind" tattoos. (I found some in a drawer I was organizing.) Be Kind is the motto of Ben's Bells, a local organization which promotes and recognizes acts of kindness.
-Thursday evening, we had our monthly Refugee 101 Volunteer Training. Heather and I give this presentation together. It is a long day, but I always enjoy it because the information is so interesting and the attendees are always so engaged. I love teaching people about refugee resettlement and having conversations with them about their own experiences with refugees.
-On Thursday night, I spent time with my friend Carly. We went out for a light meal of an appetizer and dessert. Our dessert was a s'mores pizookie and it was amazing -- chocolate cookie with peanut butter, marshmallow, and ice cream. (Pizookie=pizza cookie and I am convinced it is an Arizona thing, though you are welcome to tell me if you've had one elsewhere.)
 |
| Dragonfruit |
 |
| Figs-all from one tree! |
This week at Iskashitaa we harvested figs and dragonfruit! I now have a dozen fresh figs in my refrigerator!
The next couple weeks will be busy for me:
-On Monday, I'm attending a Food Safety class so I can get a Food Safety Certification in Pima County. I'm also planning to go to the DMV so I can register to vote in Arizona.
-On Wednesday, we are having our Food for Thought Potluck Dinner at St. Francis. This is a dinner we have every other month that I coordinate. It is meant to be a time of community building and a time for refugees to share their traditional foods. We usually have wonderful conversations, and at our last dinner we also got to hear some wonderful music!
-On Thursday, I'm going to a conference in Phoenix called Mission U. This is a conference put on annually by the United Methodist Women. I'm taking two different programs -- the Roma of Europe and the Church & People with Disabilities. I think it will be very informative and a great opportunity to connect with United Methodist Women in the Desert Southwest. I'm also leading a Focus Group where I will share about Iskashitaa and the US-2 program. The UMW gave me a scholarship to attend this conference, so I am very grateful and excited!
-After I get back from Mission U, I'm headed off to another conference called the North American Round Table. This is a conference held annually at a different location somewhere in North America, and this year it is in Phoenix. It is a gathering for people in ministry with refugees. At this conference I'm doing a table talk about Iskashitaa's harvesting model. I'm looking forward to meeting people who work with refugees around the continent!
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
out of dust
Inspired by the song "Beautiful Things" by Gungor.
All this pain, I wonder if I'll ever find my way?
I wonder if my life could really change at all?
All this earth.
Could all that is lost ever be found?
Could a garden come up from this ground, at all?
I feel that everyone has these thoughts at some point. The lyrics convey a sense of hopelessness--a desire for things to be different, but an uncertainty of whether or not that change could be reality. Such thoughts come frequently for me here in Tucson, where I have thought more deeply about the problems in my city, my state, my country, my world.
Sometimes I wonder not just about my life changing, but about the world really changing. Could a garden really come up from this ground of greed and selfishness, of hatred and violence? Could those who are lost in suffering and oppression or in power and wealth ever truly be found?
These questions cross my mind when I see news headlines and read blog posts of my fellow missionaries in service. Natural disasters destroying homes and ending lives. Families desperate for futures, for freedom. People groups hungry for justice, thirsty for righteousness. Countries plagued by fear, oppression, and violence.
Can a garden come up from this ground?
All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found, in You
Yet in the midst of pain and despair, in the midst of hardships and grief, I still see hope spring anew. I see it in the refugees that I work with every day. I see it in the brightly colored flowers and plants that thrive in the desert. I see it in my coworkers, who can dance in the rain after a stressful day's work. I see it in my fellow young adult missionaries and volunteers, who continue to seek justice and love mercy, even though it is hard.
I see people who, in the midst of chaos, are choosing life, are choosing hope. And that gives me hope.
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
All of us are dust. When I think of dust I think of insignificance, of dirt. Of something useless and troublesome. Yet this repeated chorus reminds me that despite the hopelessness I feel and the doubt that anything good could come from me, God still makes beautiful things. He is still working. The story is not over yet.
God can make anything beautiful. Even dust. Even us.
All this pain, I wonder if I'll ever find my way?
I wonder if my life could really change at all?
All this earth.
Could all that is lost ever be found?
Could a garden come up from this ground, at all?
I feel that everyone has these thoughts at some point. The lyrics convey a sense of hopelessness--a desire for things to be different, but an uncertainty of whether or not that change could be reality. Such thoughts come frequently for me here in Tucson, where I have thought more deeply about the problems in my city, my state, my country, my world.
Sometimes I wonder not just about my life changing, but about the world really changing. Could a garden really come up from this ground of greed and selfishness, of hatred and violence? Could those who are lost in suffering and oppression or in power and wealth ever truly be found?
These questions cross my mind when I see news headlines and read blog posts of my fellow missionaries in service. Natural disasters destroying homes and ending lives. Families desperate for futures, for freedom. People groups hungry for justice, thirsty for righteousness. Countries plagued by fear, oppression, and violence.
Can a garden come up from this ground?
All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found, in You
Yet in the midst of pain and despair, in the midst of hardships and grief, I still see hope spring anew. I see it in the refugees that I work with every day. I see it in the brightly colored flowers and plants that thrive in the desert. I see it in my coworkers, who can dance in the rain after a stressful day's work. I see it in my fellow young adult missionaries and volunteers, who continue to seek justice and love mercy, even though it is hard.
I see people who, in the midst of chaos, are choosing life, are choosing hope. And that gives me hope.
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
All of us are dust. When I think of dust I think of insignificance, of dirt. Of something useless and troublesome. Yet this repeated chorus reminds me that despite the hopelessness I feel and the doubt that anything good could come from me, God still makes beautiful things. He is still working. The story is not over yet.
God can make anything beautiful. Even dust. Even us.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
A Special Experience
A few weeks ago, I went home to Michigan for a visit. While I was there, something very special happened. There is a family here in Tucson of refugees from Sudan that have become good friends of mine. The oldest brother, who lives here with his wife, children, and two younger brothers, told me months ago that he had a sister living in Michigan. So, when I went back for a visit, he gave me his sister's phone number.
Two nights before I left for Arizona, I called his sister. I was nervous. So many things could go wrong--she might not understand me or she might be confused about who I was. She might not be home, or she might not have time to meet me. But she answered the first time I called her, we understood each other, and she agreed that I could come visit her the next morning. So the next morning I drove an hour to her house.
I came inside the apartment complex with a box full of tomatoes and a stack of books. Even then, I still worried. What if she wasn't home or I had come to the wrong place?
She answered the door. I gave her the tomatoes and explained that I brought them from Tucson, and that one of her brothers had helped picked them. We talked about her experience so far in America and about where she had been before coming here. She showed me photos of her family and friends, most of which were taken in the refugee camp. She woke up her two elementary school aged daughters, and they almost immediately began to look through the books I had brought. This was perhaps my favorite part of the visit--seeing these girls, the nieces of my friends in Tucson, looking so eagerly at the books I had read in my own childhood. As they looked through the books, they caught each other's attention when they found pictures they liked and wanted to show the other.
After I had been there a while, a knock came at the door and a little girl came in. She was clearly a regular presence in the apartment and she started looking through the books, too. Later her mother stopped by and brought some food. I had seen pictures of her and her daughter in the photo album.
After the girls looked through most of the books, the older daughter went to her room and brought back a notebook and pencil and started trying to draw the Rainbow Fish. Her mother smiled and said her daughter liked to draw. The other daughter showed me a picture of her class and pointed out which students were her friends.
Before I left, we took a picture together. She kept thanking me for coming, and I kept thanking her for letting me come. She walked me out to my car. I wished I could stay longer. I wished I could come again, soon. I remembered what one of the other brothers said when I told him I was going to try and see his sister: "Bring her back with you." I wished that I could.
A few days ago I talked to her oldest brother on the phone. After welcoming me back to Tucson, he thanked me for going to see his sister, and I thanked him for connecting me with them.
I look forward to visiting her again when I go home in December for Erica's graduation.
And I wonder how I became lucky enough to have such an incredibly special experience.
Two nights before I left for Arizona, I called his sister. I was nervous. So many things could go wrong--she might not understand me or she might be confused about who I was. She might not be home, or she might not have time to meet me. But she answered the first time I called her, we understood each other, and she agreed that I could come visit her the next morning. So the next morning I drove an hour to her house.
I came inside the apartment complex with a box full of tomatoes and a stack of books. Even then, I still worried. What if she wasn't home or I had come to the wrong place?
She answered the door. I gave her the tomatoes and explained that I brought them from Tucson, and that one of her brothers had helped picked them. We talked about her experience so far in America and about where she had been before coming here. She showed me photos of her family and friends, most of which were taken in the refugee camp. She woke up her two elementary school aged daughters, and they almost immediately began to look through the books I had brought. This was perhaps my favorite part of the visit--seeing these girls, the nieces of my friends in Tucson, looking so eagerly at the books I had read in my own childhood. As they looked through the books, they caught each other's attention when they found pictures they liked and wanted to show the other.
After I had been there a while, a knock came at the door and a little girl came in. She was clearly a regular presence in the apartment and she started looking through the books, too. Later her mother stopped by and brought some food. I had seen pictures of her and her daughter in the photo album.
After the girls looked through most of the books, the older daughter went to her room and brought back a notebook and pencil and started trying to draw the Rainbow Fish. Her mother smiled and said her daughter liked to draw. The other daughter showed me a picture of her class and pointed out which students were her friends.
Before I left, we took a picture together. She kept thanking me for coming, and I kept thanking her for letting me come. She walked me out to my car. I wished I could stay longer. I wished I could come again, soon. I remembered what one of the other brothers said when I told him I was going to try and see his sister: "Bring her back with you." I wished that I could.
A few days ago I talked to her oldest brother on the phone. After welcoming me back to Tucson, he thanked me for going to see his sister, and I thanked him for connecting me with them.
I look forward to visiting her again when I go home in December for Erica's graduation.
And I wonder how I became lucky enough to have such an incredibly special experience.
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