El Foro de la Tierra – The Forum of the Earth
¡Alerta! ¡Alerta! ¡Alerta que camina la marcha campesina por América Latina!
Watch out! Watch out! Watch out for the farmer march in Latin America!
This past Friday, November 23rd, I took part the Forum of the Earth. The Forum was a space for farmers, with, or without, land to share their struggles and to reflect with other farmers in other parts of the province of Misiones, Argentina, as well as from Paraguay and Chile.
During the forum, each community shared with the forum the issues that the community is facing, based on lack of land, water, or forest. Not only did adults participate in the forum, but the future generations of Misiones were also present. The forum was opened with music from children from the community of the Guarani (the indigenous people of the province). They sang about their hopes and dreams for a future where they can again live on their land peacefully, with their own land and rights. Students from a local school also attended. And sons and daughters of farmers and other solidarity workers involved in the movement were also present.
Of course, mate was present. Whenever this drink, filled with Yerba mate is shared, I always feel a greater sense of community. And I cannot think of a better place to drink it than with those who work the yerba of the red earth of Misiones. For me, mate is a symbol of how the Argentina understands what it means to be community. It is a way for all people to meet on an equal level and to share with one another. With the mate, farmers and solidarity workers were meeting each other, wherever they are in the struggle. Some have been involved in the movement for years, and for others this was their first forum or organized meeting with other farmers.
After each community shared, they marked their area on a large map of Misiones. After all of the communities shared, it was quite impressive to see all of the communities that are actively in the struggle to claim their rights to their land and their survival. It is amazing to me to hear about how deforestation due to outside multinationals is ruining the land and way of life of these people!
After each community shared, we took to the streets of Misiones, chanting, ¨¡Alerta! ¡Alerta! ¡Alerta que camina la marcha campesina por América Latina!¨ For me, this is a clear sign of how I am accompanying the people of Misiones this year. First, I had the opportunity listen to their stories. Then, I had the opportunity to walk with them, to be with them in their struggle.
It was impossible for me to forget that I am an U.S. citizen during the forum. One of the technicians that I work with in the Seed Movement kept telling his friends, ¨She´s a Yankee! Can you believe it?!¨ Yes, I am a citizen of the United States. Yes, my country is doing much damage to the people of Misiones. But, my role is to listen and then share these stories with others from the U.S. so that we can learn how to be better stewards to God´s creation, to be better neighbors. My friend later followed his Yankee comment with, ¨But she´s in the struggle with us!¨ This is the ministry of presence.
The forum has made me think even more about the ways in which my country’s consumption affects the lives of the farmers in Argentina, and really all of God´s creation. Issues of deforestation and global warming were mentioned various times during the forum. When I think about the amount of paper the U.S. uses, and how it contributes to the deforestation of this area, this alone makes me cringe.
As a Christian that is beginning to enter this Advent season, I am pondering how to bring awareness to my U.S. brothers and sisters about the contradicting message of consumerism that my country brings to the world during this Christmas season. Is this how Christ wants us to celebrate his coming to this earth? I encourage my brothers and sisters to meditate on this new reign of God that Christ promises to bring, and how we as Christ´s body can celebrate its coming with joy and hope. Let us prepare ourselves for this new year.
¨Help Me to Believe in Beginnings¨ by Ted Loder
God of history and of my heart,
So much has happened to me during these whirlwind days:
I´ve known death and birth;
I´ve been brave and scared;
I´ve hurt, I´ve helped;
I´ve been honest, I´ve lied;
I´ve destroyed; I´ve created;
I´ve been with people, I´ve been lonely;
I´ve been loval, I´ve betrayed;
I´ve decided, I´ve waffled;
I´ve laughed and I´ve cried.
You know my frail heart and my frayed history-
And now another day begins.
Oh God, help me to believe in beginnings
and in my beginning again,
no matter how often I´ve failed before.
Help me to make beginnings:
To begin going out of my weary mind into fresh dreams,
daring to make my own bold tracks in the land of now;
to begin forgiving
that I may experience mercy;
to begin questioning the unquestionable
that I may know truth;
to begin disciplining
that I may create beauty;
to begin sacrificing
that I may accomplish justice;
to begin risking
that I may make peace;
to begin loving
that I may realize joy.
Help me to be a beginning for others,
to be a singer to the songless,
a storyteller to the aimless,
a befriender of the friendless;
to become a beginning of hope for the despairing,
of assurance to the doubting,
to reconciliation for the divided;
to become a beginning of freedom for the oppressed,
of comfort for the sorrowing,
of friendship for the forgotten;
to become a beginning of the beauty for the forlorn,
of sweetness for the soured,
of gentleness for the angry,
of wholeness for the broken,
of peace for the frightened and violent of the earth.
Help me to believe in beginnings,
to make a beginning,
to be a beginning,
so that I may not just grow old,
but grow new
each day this wild, amazing life
you call me to live
with the passion of Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
November Newsletter - Kevin in Uruguay
Part One
Monday, when I should have been updating (this is, after all, Mate Mondays), I was instead at the Embassy of the United States of America to the Eastern Republic of Uruguay. Say that ten times fast. Good. And now in Spanish - La Embajada de los Estados Unidos de América a la República Oriental del Uruguay. You can say that ten times fast as well, if you so desire. Silliness aside, I had to go to the embassy to get extra pages added to my passport. If you absolutely must go to a U.S. embassy while abroad, this is the reason to have to do it - it´s (for a goverment-run office) fairly quick and painless and does not involve interrogation; the same cannot be said about procedures for lost/stolen passports, tax concerns, etc.The embassy, quite frankly, is a shabby testimony to what I would call the American ideal, but is probably a wonderful example of what the U.S. has become in the eyes of the rest of the world since 1898. You wouldn´t have thought that a little old affair like the Spanish-American War (a 6-month or so struggle between the U.S. and, in the words of Dave Barry, "a nation with the military prowess of a tuna casserolle") would be a defining moment in U.S., and world, history, but it is. The day we sailed into Manila Bay with guns blazing was the day that the Republic died and the Empire was born. Earlier in my time here, I read a rather tedious, although brief, book on protecting Christianity from imperialism. I can´t say that I fully agreed with the author, and he did an incredibly poor job of proving to me that he really believes that the current U.S. government is just another in a string of imperialist administrations rather than somehow an enormous aberration, but he had his good points, too. We decided 109 years ago that our God-given duty is to meddle and dominate, and so we meddle and dominate away, not particularly caring that the rest of the world doesn´t particularly care to be meddled with or dominated.The U.S. embassy here in Montevideo is a beautiful, or tragic (take your pick) piece of that history. It makes no effort whatsoever to appear like more typically Uruguayan buildings in the city, which is a shame when you consider that Montevideo is an architectural gem. Nope, we came in and built an ugly, square gray concrete building that looks exactly like every other goverment office building ever put up by the U.S. Entering the building is the next affront to the sensibilities. It´s one of the very few buildings in central Montevideo to have a wall around it, and I´ve not seen a wall that tall since leaving the U.S. The capitols of both Argentina and Uruguay are more accessible than the U.S. embassy - no mean feat in countries with histories of political violence and instability. To enter, you have to wait until a security guard decides to give you access, and if you´re in line for a visa, I recommend wearing comfy shoes, as you´ll be there a while. In another nod to good ol´ American government bureaucracy, the embassy only allows entry up until noon-ish, takes about 30 holidays during the year, and isn´t open on the weekends. In other words, if you have a 9-5 Monday to Friday job, you´ll be taking the day off to do your business with Uncle Sam.Once you´re let inside, you´re given a number for your wait in the consular section, go through security two times, and then, after surrendering your cell phone and all other signal-receiving electronic devices, are allowed into the consular office. At least they have reading material....IN ENGLISH. If you´re Uruguayan and not in the mood for U.S. News and World Report, The Economist, or Popular Mechanics, then you´re going to be bored. Oh wait, if you´re Uruguayan, you´re filling out visa paperwork while being bossed around and sent back and forth. As a U.S. citizen, one of my inalienable rights is apparently to a magazine and a relatively peaceful wait. They took care of my business without being too rude (shocker), and that was that.I think my favorite moment came after the embassy of fun and adventure. It´s located right on La Rambla, the beautiful seaside path in the city (at least they did a good job of picking prime real estate to ruin with such an ugly building), so I decided to walk for a while and enjoy the sunshine. The natural curve of the coastline resulted in a spectacular view of the city skyline...and the embassy, sticking out like a drab concrete middle finger against the backdrop of Parque Rodó. And then, it was gone. I walked around the bend, and I didn´t have to look at it any more.I don´t want to seem like an unpatriotic, America-bashing, Dixie Chick-lovin´ ex-pat. I love my country, and I love the ideals - life, liberty, equality before the law - that are layed out in so many of the foundational documents that we hold dear. At the same time, I know how we act - arrogant, self-absorbed, brutal. We´ve backed military dictators over freely-elected leftists to spite the Russians, not caring that those military dictators were more brutal killers than the socialists we overthrew in places like Chile and Nicaragua. We´ve hamstrung the economies of many a developing nation with the World Bank and IMF´s restructuring programs. We´ve let ourselves become ignorant of global issues and never give a thought to our impact on other peoples because our money gives us the luxury of not having to think about it - when you´re on top, you don´t have to think about the other 99 people in a heap beneath you. If they squirm too much, you can always give them a swift kick to get them to stop shaking your TV around and messing up the reception. If there´s just one thing I want to bring back home with me from all my time abroad (nopt just my time in Uruguay), it´s this - empires decline and fall because, in their time of need, they don´t have any friends. Maybe it´s time to start thinking a little more about who we really are, and what we really ought to be.
Part Two
So, I promised the positive side of my struggle with my identity as a U.S. citizen who is extremely conscious of his country´s extremely shoddy record in international relations, and of the perceptions (several of which are probably very right-on) that much of the rest of the world has concerning the U.S., and not even 24 hours after part one, I feel ready to bring my thoughts on this matter to some degree of completion.The upswing is that, for the first time in my life, I don´t feel apathetic about my identity and citizenship. That little blue passport, and the country it represents, isn´t just a tool to get me in and out of all the countries of the world; it´s an integral part of who I am. I might criticize, I might be outraged, I might be angry, I might be desperate for a change, but by God, I am a passionate United States citizen who cares about his country and wants it to make just, right-minded decisions about its actions in the world. When I hear about liberty and justice for all, it´s not just the end of a pledge; it´s the beginning of a journey. If this is what we are going to stand for as a nation, and it is a glorious ideal to pursue, then we need to be committed to understanding what that means and how then we are to live in the world as a nation. I don´t think that imperial-minded relations with the rest of the world promote liberty or justice; in fact, I tend to seem imperialism as the opposite of those things. It undercuts those very things, at home and abroad, in the name of more wealth, more power, and more prestige.So, where´s the good news in this? The good news is that we always have a choice - a choice as people, a choice as communities, a choice as a nation. We can genuinely try to understand what peace and justice mean in a global context, or we can ignore the question and then try to shut up our collective conscience with more meaningless consumerism. We can protect ourselves and our citizens from harm, or we can behave recklessly, using our force to pre-emptively terminate threats that probably don´t exist, all the while considering the other possible benefits of this use of force. We can promote fair global economic policies that encourage, rather than exploit, developing nations, or we can pretend that those people over there are only starving because of their own corrupt governments. We can be a republic that defends the civil liberties of its people and balanced economic development of its states and that only uses its military power in times of absolute global crisis when not using force would be suicide or irresponsible, or we can be an empire that puts right-of-government above right-of-citizen, puts reckless global corporate capitalism above fair, equitable economics, and that flexes its military muscle whenever it so desires. That choice is in our hands - in my hands, in your hands. I know which one I want, which one leads to genuine national security, prosperity, and liberty.
Part Three
Saying that reading the Bible is dangerous to insular, oft-imperialistic North American thought is an understatement. If there is any other text out there in the world that comes down so hard on capitalism, multinational corporations, imperialism, self-centered thinking, reckless individualism, and pork rinds as the Bible, I have yet to encounter it. Of course, the grand irony is how often the Bible is used to justify those things.This, however, is not going to be a claws-out assault on biblical misuse or the imposition of one´s politics upon the Bible, forming it to be what you want it to be. After all, that just perpetuates a cycle of scripture wars and hard feelings, which is as counterproductive a thing as there can be. Rather, this is about my own journey, the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other, as I´ve grown and been changed by God in my times in the world.Probably the hardest thing for anyone from the West/North (take your pick on the nomenclature) to see when they´re out of their comfortable country of origin is poverty. Poverty exists in the West, too, but a few people hustling you for change on the street or sleeping on the heat grates is a different experience from seeing children with stomachs distended from hunger and malnutrition, or entire neighborhoods of tin-and-plywood shacks. It´s unsettling and can shake the faith of even the most devout person, especially once you get to know the children or the people living in the shanty town.I´ve heard many a televangelist and misinformed Christian attribute prosperity, both personal and national, to God´s special blessing, to the idea that God materially rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked with poverty. That, however, does an incredible disservice to a great many people that I´ve met all over the world. I simply cannot believe that Zurqina, a little girl whose mother has a stall in a food market on the University of Ghana´s campus, is living in desperate poverty because she and her mother are just bad people. Conversely, I don´t see Donald Trump as being a great man of God or a towering example of morality simply because he has more money in the bank than most other humans can ever dream of having.I´ve found that money means nothing regarding how "good" or "bad" a person is. There are rich people who make their money by hurting other people, and there are rich people who make their money by being fair business people, and who typically give back plenty of what they have. There are poor people who are wonderful people, living lives filled with the fruits of the Spirit, and there are poor people who use their poverty as an excuse for alcoholism and domestic violence. People, at the end of a day, are people - they´re not good, they´re not bad, they´re people. Sometimes, people choose to hurt other people, and sometimes they choose to build others up. When people choose to hurt others, to oppress them, to take advantage of them for a buck, a cycle of poverty is created - I´m going to take your money and resources, then keep you at a level of development that serves my needs, but doesn´t give you much of a chance to break free. This isn´t biblical; this isn´t in line with a Living Word of jubilee years, 31 chapters of Proverbs exhorting care for widows and orphans and standing up for the rights of the oppressed, prophets who identify abuse of the poor as one of the principle sins of their people, a Messiah who chooses to live without wordly comforts but rather only what He needs to live, and a faith community that shares all its goods in common. I raise my voice about the ways things are and the way things could be not because I´m just another 22 year old stereotypical liberal; I do it because it´s my faith.I don´t think God has a favorite political party, or that God loves one or two nations while pouring contempt on the rest of them. I don´t think God tosses down heaven-sent moneybags to people for not fornicating. I think God gave us a world filled with the good things that we need to live, and that our mission as followers of God, followers of Christ, is to be serious about, and faithful to, God´s call to stewardship - to find ways to ensure that starvation, lack of access to clean drinking water, lack of access to adequate health care, pollution, and the many other ills that too often characterize human life in the world outside the U.S., Canada, and Western Europe become nonexistent, or at the very least incredibly rare. We have the means, but do we have the boldness to say "no!" to comfortable consumerism, to accept the radical call to take up the cross and follow Jesus in His path of vulnerability and rejection of the easy life? Maybe that´s not a fair question; some days, I´m the kind of person who´s ready to storm the walls and proclaim a year of jubilee, but other times, it´s not so easy. Maybe it´s a process, a dialectical journey requiring patience, commitment, and above all, faith in a God who has called us to something more than living for ourselves and refusing to think of every other beautiful child of God in the world as just that - our brother or sister, created in the likeness of the same God. Maybe, in the words of John Lennon, I´m just a dreamer, but just maybe, I´m not the only one.
Monday, when I should have been updating (this is, after all, Mate Mondays), I was instead at the Embassy of the United States of America to the Eastern Republic of Uruguay. Say that ten times fast. Good. And now in Spanish - La Embajada de los Estados Unidos de América a la República Oriental del Uruguay. You can say that ten times fast as well, if you so desire. Silliness aside, I had to go to the embassy to get extra pages added to my passport. If you absolutely must go to a U.S. embassy while abroad, this is the reason to have to do it - it´s (for a goverment-run office) fairly quick and painless and does not involve interrogation; the same cannot be said about procedures for lost/stolen passports, tax concerns, etc.The embassy, quite frankly, is a shabby testimony to what I would call the American ideal, but is probably a wonderful example of what the U.S. has become in the eyes of the rest of the world since 1898. You wouldn´t have thought that a little old affair like the Spanish-American War (a 6-month or so struggle between the U.S. and, in the words of Dave Barry, "a nation with the military prowess of a tuna casserolle") would be a defining moment in U.S., and world, history, but it is. The day we sailed into Manila Bay with guns blazing was the day that the Republic died and the Empire was born. Earlier in my time here, I read a rather tedious, although brief, book on protecting Christianity from imperialism. I can´t say that I fully agreed with the author, and he did an incredibly poor job of proving to me that he really believes that the current U.S. government is just another in a string of imperialist administrations rather than somehow an enormous aberration, but he had his good points, too. We decided 109 years ago that our God-given duty is to meddle and dominate, and so we meddle and dominate away, not particularly caring that the rest of the world doesn´t particularly care to be meddled with or dominated.The U.S. embassy here in Montevideo is a beautiful, or tragic (take your pick) piece of that history. It makes no effort whatsoever to appear like more typically Uruguayan buildings in the city, which is a shame when you consider that Montevideo is an architectural gem. Nope, we came in and built an ugly, square gray concrete building that looks exactly like every other goverment office building ever put up by the U.S. Entering the building is the next affront to the sensibilities. It´s one of the very few buildings in central Montevideo to have a wall around it, and I´ve not seen a wall that tall since leaving the U.S. The capitols of both Argentina and Uruguay are more accessible than the U.S. embassy - no mean feat in countries with histories of political violence and instability. To enter, you have to wait until a security guard decides to give you access, and if you´re in line for a visa, I recommend wearing comfy shoes, as you´ll be there a while. In another nod to good ol´ American government bureaucracy, the embassy only allows entry up until noon-ish, takes about 30 holidays during the year, and isn´t open on the weekends. In other words, if you have a 9-5 Monday to Friday job, you´ll be taking the day off to do your business with Uncle Sam.Once you´re let inside, you´re given a number for your wait in the consular section, go through security two times, and then, after surrendering your cell phone and all other signal-receiving electronic devices, are allowed into the consular office. At least they have reading material....IN ENGLISH. If you´re Uruguayan and not in the mood for U.S. News and World Report, The Economist, or Popular Mechanics, then you´re going to be bored. Oh wait, if you´re Uruguayan, you´re filling out visa paperwork while being bossed around and sent back and forth. As a U.S. citizen, one of my inalienable rights is apparently to a magazine and a relatively peaceful wait. They took care of my business without being too rude (shocker), and that was that.I think my favorite moment came after the embassy of fun and adventure. It´s located right on La Rambla, the beautiful seaside path in the city (at least they did a good job of picking prime real estate to ruin with such an ugly building), so I decided to walk for a while and enjoy the sunshine. The natural curve of the coastline resulted in a spectacular view of the city skyline...and the embassy, sticking out like a drab concrete middle finger against the backdrop of Parque Rodó. And then, it was gone. I walked around the bend, and I didn´t have to look at it any more.I don´t want to seem like an unpatriotic, America-bashing, Dixie Chick-lovin´ ex-pat. I love my country, and I love the ideals - life, liberty, equality before the law - that are layed out in so many of the foundational documents that we hold dear. At the same time, I know how we act - arrogant, self-absorbed, brutal. We´ve backed military dictators over freely-elected leftists to spite the Russians, not caring that those military dictators were more brutal killers than the socialists we overthrew in places like Chile and Nicaragua. We´ve hamstrung the economies of many a developing nation with the World Bank and IMF´s restructuring programs. We´ve let ourselves become ignorant of global issues and never give a thought to our impact on other peoples because our money gives us the luxury of not having to think about it - when you´re on top, you don´t have to think about the other 99 people in a heap beneath you. If they squirm too much, you can always give them a swift kick to get them to stop shaking your TV around and messing up the reception. If there´s just one thing I want to bring back home with me from all my time abroad (nopt just my time in Uruguay), it´s this - empires decline and fall because, in their time of need, they don´t have any friends. Maybe it´s time to start thinking a little more about who we really are, and what we really ought to be.
Part Two
So, I promised the positive side of my struggle with my identity as a U.S. citizen who is extremely conscious of his country´s extremely shoddy record in international relations, and of the perceptions (several of which are probably very right-on) that much of the rest of the world has concerning the U.S., and not even 24 hours after part one, I feel ready to bring my thoughts on this matter to some degree of completion.The upswing is that, for the first time in my life, I don´t feel apathetic about my identity and citizenship. That little blue passport, and the country it represents, isn´t just a tool to get me in and out of all the countries of the world; it´s an integral part of who I am. I might criticize, I might be outraged, I might be angry, I might be desperate for a change, but by God, I am a passionate United States citizen who cares about his country and wants it to make just, right-minded decisions about its actions in the world. When I hear about liberty and justice for all, it´s not just the end of a pledge; it´s the beginning of a journey. If this is what we are going to stand for as a nation, and it is a glorious ideal to pursue, then we need to be committed to understanding what that means and how then we are to live in the world as a nation. I don´t think that imperial-minded relations with the rest of the world promote liberty or justice; in fact, I tend to seem imperialism as the opposite of those things. It undercuts those very things, at home and abroad, in the name of more wealth, more power, and more prestige.So, where´s the good news in this? The good news is that we always have a choice - a choice as people, a choice as communities, a choice as a nation. We can genuinely try to understand what peace and justice mean in a global context, or we can ignore the question and then try to shut up our collective conscience with more meaningless consumerism. We can protect ourselves and our citizens from harm, or we can behave recklessly, using our force to pre-emptively terminate threats that probably don´t exist, all the while considering the other possible benefits of this use of force. We can promote fair global economic policies that encourage, rather than exploit, developing nations, or we can pretend that those people over there are only starving because of their own corrupt governments. We can be a republic that defends the civil liberties of its people and balanced economic development of its states and that only uses its military power in times of absolute global crisis when not using force would be suicide or irresponsible, or we can be an empire that puts right-of-government above right-of-citizen, puts reckless global corporate capitalism above fair, equitable economics, and that flexes its military muscle whenever it so desires. That choice is in our hands - in my hands, in your hands. I know which one I want, which one leads to genuine national security, prosperity, and liberty.
Part Three
Saying that reading the Bible is dangerous to insular, oft-imperialistic North American thought is an understatement. If there is any other text out there in the world that comes down so hard on capitalism, multinational corporations, imperialism, self-centered thinking, reckless individualism, and pork rinds as the Bible, I have yet to encounter it. Of course, the grand irony is how often the Bible is used to justify those things.This, however, is not going to be a claws-out assault on biblical misuse or the imposition of one´s politics upon the Bible, forming it to be what you want it to be. After all, that just perpetuates a cycle of scripture wars and hard feelings, which is as counterproductive a thing as there can be. Rather, this is about my own journey, the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other, as I´ve grown and been changed by God in my times in the world.Probably the hardest thing for anyone from the West/North (take your pick on the nomenclature) to see when they´re out of their comfortable country of origin is poverty. Poverty exists in the West, too, but a few people hustling you for change on the street or sleeping on the heat grates is a different experience from seeing children with stomachs distended from hunger and malnutrition, or entire neighborhoods of tin-and-plywood shacks. It´s unsettling and can shake the faith of even the most devout person, especially once you get to know the children or the people living in the shanty town.I´ve heard many a televangelist and misinformed Christian attribute prosperity, both personal and national, to God´s special blessing, to the idea that God materially rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked with poverty. That, however, does an incredible disservice to a great many people that I´ve met all over the world. I simply cannot believe that Zurqina, a little girl whose mother has a stall in a food market on the University of Ghana´s campus, is living in desperate poverty because she and her mother are just bad people. Conversely, I don´t see Donald Trump as being a great man of God or a towering example of morality simply because he has more money in the bank than most other humans can ever dream of having.I´ve found that money means nothing regarding how "good" or "bad" a person is. There are rich people who make their money by hurting other people, and there are rich people who make their money by being fair business people, and who typically give back plenty of what they have. There are poor people who are wonderful people, living lives filled with the fruits of the Spirit, and there are poor people who use their poverty as an excuse for alcoholism and domestic violence. People, at the end of a day, are people - they´re not good, they´re not bad, they´re people. Sometimes, people choose to hurt other people, and sometimes they choose to build others up. When people choose to hurt others, to oppress them, to take advantage of them for a buck, a cycle of poverty is created - I´m going to take your money and resources, then keep you at a level of development that serves my needs, but doesn´t give you much of a chance to break free. This isn´t biblical; this isn´t in line with a Living Word of jubilee years, 31 chapters of Proverbs exhorting care for widows and orphans and standing up for the rights of the oppressed, prophets who identify abuse of the poor as one of the principle sins of their people, a Messiah who chooses to live without wordly comforts but rather only what He needs to live, and a faith community that shares all its goods in common. I raise my voice about the ways things are and the way things could be not because I´m just another 22 year old stereotypical liberal; I do it because it´s my faith.I don´t think God has a favorite political party, or that God loves one or two nations while pouring contempt on the rest of them. I don´t think God tosses down heaven-sent moneybags to people for not fornicating. I think God gave us a world filled with the good things that we need to live, and that our mission as followers of God, followers of Christ, is to be serious about, and faithful to, God´s call to stewardship - to find ways to ensure that starvation, lack of access to clean drinking water, lack of access to adequate health care, pollution, and the many other ills that too often characterize human life in the world outside the U.S., Canada, and Western Europe become nonexistent, or at the very least incredibly rare. We have the means, but do we have the boldness to say "no!" to comfortable consumerism, to accept the radical call to take up the cross and follow Jesus in His path of vulnerability and rejection of the easy life? Maybe that´s not a fair question; some days, I´m the kind of person who´s ready to storm the walls and proclaim a year of jubilee, but other times, it´s not so easy. Maybe it´s a process, a dialectical journey requiring patience, commitment, and above all, faith in a God who has called us to something more than living for ourselves and refusing to think of every other beautiful child of God in the world as just that - our brother or sister, created in the likeness of the same God. Maybe, in the words of John Lennon, I´m just a dreamer, but just maybe, I´m not the only one.
November Newsletter - KD in Uruguay
KD’s Uruguayan Adventures
November 2007 Issue
Find Yourself, Brad Paisley – Cars Soundtrack
When you find yourself in some far off place
And it causes you to rethink some things,
You start to sense that slowly you’re becoming someone else
And then you find yourself.
When you go through life so sure of where you’re headed
And you wind up lost and it’s the best thing
That could’ve happened
‘Cause sometimes when you lose your way,
It’s really just as well
‘Cause you find yourself, yeah,
That’s when you find yourself.
(Allowing time to) Find Yourself
One thing I promised to myself after my freshman year at Gustavus is that I would do my best to live life without any regrets; if I feel, even slightly, that I might look back and wish I had done something, I dive in feet first as not to miss my chance. This has led to lots of enjoyment, an overcrowded schedule and many opportunities to find myself. Coming into the YAGM program was no exception in that I knew whole-heartedly that I would regret not being a part of this program; I knew that it would change my in many unexpected ways.
One such example is the gift of time; allowing space for reflection and processing hasn’t been a priority in the past five years. The people that I find myself in accompaniment with in Uruguay have helped me to make room for this much-needed time and I am extremely grateful for this gift. It is my hope that, through my presence here, I am able to give back as much as you have given me. Muchas Gracias.
Thank you for your cards and letters – they mean a lot to me!
Cultural Corner
Get to know Uruguay
Murga Season!
As the Northern Hemisphere settles into the winter season, Uruguay is enjoying the beginning of summer – which means that it is time for Murgas. In the past, murgas were used to express political views and, although times have changed, Montevideo is still known for its murga season. The modern day murga consists of groups of up to 17 young people who come together to write a melody and lyrics and they practice for several months to perfect their performance, political or not. The 30-40 minute murga is full of dancing, acting, singing and underlying meaning. I have had the delight of seeing Karin and Sebatian’s murga, Pan Quemando, perform and would love to share that video with you upon my return!
The Wonderful Word of Omnibuses
Many of my Uruguayan adventures are directly related to the omnibuses of Montevideo. The bus system works fairly well – besides crazy scheduling and the difficulties of trying to figure out their routes – and it has been great to travel around Montevideo with the kids from La Obra. Students who wear their túnicas are able to ride the buses free of charge from Monday through Saturday, which allows us to take trips all around the city to enjoy a large variety of free activities. It has also been a great opportunity for me to get to know Montevideo!
November 2007 Issue
Find Yourself, Brad Paisley – Cars Soundtrack
When you find yourself in some far off place
And it causes you to rethink some things,
You start to sense that slowly you’re becoming someone else
And then you find yourself.
When you go through life so sure of where you’re headed
And you wind up lost and it’s the best thing
That could’ve happened
‘Cause sometimes when you lose your way,
It’s really just as well
‘Cause you find yourself, yeah,
That’s when you find yourself.
(Allowing time to) Find Yourself
One thing I promised to myself after my freshman year at Gustavus is that I would do my best to live life without any regrets; if I feel, even slightly, that I might look back and wish I had done something, I dive in feet first as not to miss my chance. This has led to lots of enjoyment, an overcrowded schedule and many opportunities to find myself. Coming into the YAGM program was no exception in that I knew whole-heartedly that I would regret not being a part of this program; I knew that it would change my in many unexpected ways.
One such example is the gift of time; allowing space for reflection and processing hasn’t been a priority in the past five years. The people that I find myself in accompaniment with in Uruguay have helped me to make room for this much-needed time and I am extremely grateful for this gift. It is my hope that, through my presence here, I am able to give back as much as you have given me. Muchas Gracias.
Thank you for your cards and letters – they mean a lot to me!
Cultural Corner
Get to know Uruguay
Murga Season!
As the Northern Hemisphere settles into the winter season, Uruguay is enjoying the beginning of summer – which means that it is time for Murgas. In the past, murgas were used to express political views and, although times have changed, Montevideo is still known for its murga season. The modern day murga consists of groups of up to 17 young people who come together to write a melody and lyrics and they practice for several months to perfect their performance, political or not. The 30-40 minute murga is full of dancing, acting, singing and underlying meaning. I have had the delight of seeing Karin and Sebatian’s murga, Pan Quemando, perform and would love to share that video with you upon my return!
The Wonderful Word of Omnibuses
Many of my Uruguayan adventures are directly related to the omnibuses of Montevideo. The bus system works fairly well – besides crazy scheduling and the difficulties of trying to figure out their routes – and it has been great to travel around Montevideo with the kids from La Obra. Students who wear their túnicas are able to ride the buses free of charge from Monday through Saturday, which allows us to take trips all around the city to enjoy a large variety of free activities. It has also been a great opportunity for me to get to know Montevideo!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
October Newsletter - Sarah W. in Kenya
October 2007
This month all of the Young Adults in Global Mission were asked to consider the word “missionary” and how we are encountering its meaning in our various placements and contexts so far. I have found that often times it is the little things that happen during the day that show me how far I have come in the past two months. Finding myself understanding bits and pieces of conversations in Kiswahili show me that I am slowly learning, while also reminding me I have a long way to go.
Being a missionary also means I’m finding delight in what seem like simple interactions with people. One of my coworkers, Patrick, who barely talked to me the first few weeks was having tea and bread in the office one day when I walked in after finishing cleaning. I sat down and after several minutes of silence I was about to stand up and leave when he asked me if I like tea. When I said yes he replied that he was going to get me a cup and immediately stood up and left. He returned with a cup of tea and he insisted that I share the bread he had brought with him as well. We had a conversation for the first time and I discovered what a wealth of information he has. He literately grew up at the animal orphanage because his father worked there. Patrick has seen every animal now there come in as an abandoned baby or injured youngster. Since that day our relationship has become much more comfortable and familiar. We easily talk and joke with each other and often times he asks me to clean with him in the mornings. That day has also led to an increase in his trust level towards me. Now he has no hesitation in asking me to go somewhere by myself to clean or to take the young cheetahs outside to get some fresh air on my own.
Another simple interaction that has led to building stronger relationships is cooking every evening with the house keeper Marcy. Marcy and I always got along well from the beginning but our time spent together in the kitchen has helped us to get to know each other even better. I spend my evenings helping her peel potatoes and carrots, roll chipati, shell peas, or sometimes just sitting and watching her cook. The entire time we talk and share our experiences. She also likes to help me with Kiswahili and is determined to teach me how to cook “real food.”
Being a missionary is about building relationships with the people around me. It is about noticing small things that happen everyday that reassure me that I’m on the right track. Being a missionary means finding joy and finding God in even the simplest actions.
This month all of the Young Adults in Global Mission were asked to consider the word “missionary” and how we are encountering its meaning in our various placements and contexts so far. I have found that often times it is the little things that happen during the day that show me how far I have come in the past two months. Finding myself understanding bits and pieces of conversations in Kiswahili show me that I am slowly learning, while also reminding me I have a long way to go.
Being a missionary also means I’m finding delight in what seem like simple interactions with people. One of my coworkers, Patrick, who barely talked to me the first few weeks was having tea and bread in the office one day when I walked in after finishing cleaning. I sat down and after several minutes of silence I was about to stand up and leave when he asked me if I like tea. When I said yes he replied that he was going to get me a cup and immediately stood up and left. He returned with a cup of tea and he insisted that I share the bread he had brought with him as well. We had a conversation for the first time and I discovered what a wealth of information he has. He literately grew up at the animal orphanage because his father worked there. Patrick has seen every animal now there come in as an abandoned baby or injured youngster. Since that day our relationship has become much more comfortable and familiar. We easily talk and joke with each other and often times he asks me to clean with him in the mornings. That day has also led to an increase in his trust level towards me. Now he has no hesitation in asking me to go somewhere by myself to clean or to take the young cheetahs outside to get some fresh air on my own.
Another simple interaction that has led to building stronger relationships is cooking every evening with the house keeper Marcy. Marcy and I always got along well from the beginning but our time spent together in the kitchen has helped us to get to know each other even better. I spend my evenings helping her peel potatoes and carrots, roll chipati, shell peas, or sometimes just sitting and watching her cook. The entire time we talk and share our experiences. She also likes to help me with Kiswahili and is determined to teach me how to cook “real food.”
Being a missionary is about building relationships with the people around me. It is about noticing small things that happen everyday that reassure me that I’m on the right track. Being a missionary means finding joy and finding God in even the simplest actions.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
November Newsletter - Christina in the UK
My Year in the World
November 2007
Volume 1, Issue 3
Young Adults in Global Mission
A London Reunion—YAGM Retreat
This past weekend all 13 YAGMs and 2 RCA volunteers reunited in London for the first time since our arrival in August. It was wonderful to see friends again and have a chance to share, discuss, and process our experiences, feelings, and thoughts. To help in this process Vanessa (the YAGM co-ordinater) flew out from Chicago. We were also joined by Jenny Welsh, who lives in London and does chaplaincy work with Anglican/Lutheran international students studying in the London area and surrounding areas. One of the highlights of the weekend was getting American treats such as peanut butter, ranch dressing, Oreos, and corn candy (all treasures in the UK) brought over from Vanessa. I also realized that we are a really great group of young adults that gets along almost abnormally well. The group dynamics are just great which adds another element of fun for everyone. Although the weekend was rushed and we didn’t have a chance to explore London it was great to reconnect with everyone and have a little taste of America again. We’re all hoping for another YAGM retreat in the spring. But in the very least well see each other again in January for the TFG mid-year retreat in Wales.
Livin’ the Lutheran Life—in England
One of the popular topics of discussion at the YAGM retreat was our experience of being Lutheran in a country where the number of Lutherans can be counted on two hands. Ok, that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea. Most of us have been asked the question, “What is a Lutheran?” or “Are Lutherans Christians?” Jenny and Vanessa talked with us so that we are better able to answer these questions. Some of us have encountered more difficult questions such as “Can I pray for your salvation?” or “Don’t you think your infant baptism is pointless?” We decided that what was most difficult for us was our Christian/Lutheran traditions are sometimes not seen as merely different but rather insufficient. It’s hard to make some people see and understand that we are all first and foremost Christians. We were reminded that the same way we struggle with new traditions doesn’t mean they are wrong--they are unfamiliar.
We were also reminded that while several expressed missing Lutheran tradition, theology, and worship, part of what we are really missing is Lutheran culture. Since the majority of Lutherans are of German or Scandinavian decent there is a certain culture that accompanies the denomination. I suppose you could say several of us are suffering from a sub-culture shock on top of a culture shock.
Resisting Tyranny—Dietrich Bonhoeffer
This week, following our Lutheran-filled weekend in London, Amy and I attended a talk on Dietrich Bonhoeffer at a local church in Buxton. The talk was giving by a protestant woman from Germany.
I’ve grown up listening to the works of Bonhoeffer, but I’ve never known too much of his life as a whole. It was very interesting to hear of his life in a nutshell and the impact that he had on so many peoples lives.
Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor and theologian in Germany. He was inspired by many people, inspired many people, was an advocate for grace, and strived for peace. Despite his firm belief in pacifism, he helped in several plots to assassinate Hitler. I believe it shows us the torment the Nazi inflicted on the world—physical or not. He was taken as a political prisoner of the Nazis and was hanged shortly before the end of World War II.
I find it’s always inspiring to hear stories of people’s faith and the impact that they have on the rest of the world—even decades after their death. Although the issues that Bonhoeffer dealt with during his life are not as pressing as today’s issues, his message of grace and peace are still very applicable to life in the 21st century.
Learning a New Language
Courgette-zucchini
Cash point-ATM
Swede-rutabaga
Ta-thank you
Butty-sandwich
Prayer Requests
Please pray for one of the community support clients, Beryl has been having many difficulties the past month. She’s been attacked and has been having people taking advantage of her. Please also continue to pray for Tracey, who is still trying to find a house so she can move out of Charis House.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. –Ephesians 2:8
November 2007
Volume 1, Issue 3
Young Adults in Global Mission
A London Reunion—YAGM Retreat
This past weekend all 13 YAGMs and 2 RCA volunteers reunited in London for the first time since our arrival in August. It was wonderful to see friends again and have a chance to share, discuss, and process our experiences, feelings, and thoughts. To help in this process Vanessa (the YAGM co-ordinater) flew out from Chicago. We were also joined by Jenny Welsh, who lives in London and does chaplaincy work with Anglican/Lutheran international students studying in the London area and surrounding areas. One of the highlights of the weekend was getting American treats such as peanut butter, ranch dressing, Oreos, and corn candy (all treasures in the UK) brought over from Vanessa. I also realized that we are a really great group of young adults that gets along almost abnormally well. The group dynamics are just great which adds another element of fun for everyone. Although the weekend was rushed and we didn’t have a chance to explore London it was great to reconnect with everyone and have a little taste of America again. We’re all hoping for another YAGM retreat in the spring. But in the very least well see each other again in January for the TFG mid-year retreat in Wales.
Livin’ the Lutheran Life—in England
One of the popular topics of discussion at the YAGM retreat was our experience of being Lutheran in a country where the number of Lutherans can be counted on two hands. Ok, that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea. Most of us have been asked the question, “What is a Lutheran?” or “Are Lutherans Christians?” Jenny and Vanessa talked with us so that we are better able to answer these questions. Some of us have encountered more difficult questions such as “Can I pray for your salvation?” or “Don’t you think your infant baptism is pointless?” We decided that what was most difficult for us was our Christian/Lutheran traditions are sometimes not seen as merely different but rather insufficient. It’s hard to make some people see and understand that we are all first and foremost Christians. We were reminded that the same way we struggle with new traditions doesn’t mean they are wrong--they are unfamiliar.
We were also reminded that while several expressed missing Lutheran tradition, theology, and worship, part of what we are really missing is Lutheran culture. Since the majority of Lutherans are of German or Scandinavian decent there is a certain culture that accompanies the denomination. I suppose you could say several of us are suffering from a sub-culture shock on top of a culture shock.
Resisting Tyranny—Dietrich Bonhoeffer
This week, following our Lutheran-filled weekend in London, Amy and I attended a talk on Dietrich Bonhoeffer at a local church in Buxton. The talk was giving by a protestant woman from Germany.
I’ve grown up listening to the works of Bonhoeffer, but I’ve never known too much of his life as a whole. It was very interesting to hear of his life in a nutshell and the impact that he had on so many peoples lives.
Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor and theologian in Germany. He was inspired by many people, inspired many people, was an advocate for grace, and strived for peace. Despite his firm belief in pacifism, he helped in several plots to assassinate Hitler. I believe it shows us the torment the Nazi inflicted on the world—physical or not. He was taken as a political prisoner of the Nazis and was hanged shortly before the end of World War II.
I find it’s always inspiring to hear stories of people’s faith and the impact that they have on the rest of the world—even decades after their death. Although the issues that Bonhoeffer dealt with during his life are not as pressing as today’s issues, his message of grace and peace are still very applicable to life in the 21st century.
Learning a New Language
Courgette-zucchini
Cash point-ATM
Swede-rutabaga
Ta-thank you
Butty-sandwich
Prayer Requests
Please pray for one of the community support clients, Beryl has been having many difficulties the past month. She’s been attacked and has been having people taking advantage of her. Please also continue to pray for Tracey, who is still trying to find a house so she can move out of Charis House.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. –Ephesians 2:8
Sukhamano, state-siders - Rob in India
The Kerala Exchange
October, 2007
Issue Number Two
In Kerala, every day is a surprise. Surprise!There is another college strike today. Surprise! It’s a torrential downpour during the dry season. Surprise! No power or running water today. Surprise! You’re leading a two-hour class and it starts in three minutes. I’m learning a whole new way to be flexible. This culture has instilled in me something that is really true in all cultures – life cannot be trusted to behave.
Though I’ve continued regularly with some of the programs that I mentioned last month (choir rehearsals and interaction with students young and old), October was the month of side-projects. In the beginning of the month I accompanied a group of youths (ages 14-19) on a weekend retreat. These kids were from the Mar Thoma Church, a reformed outgrowth of the Syrian Orthodox Church, which is a unique export of Kerala. I was asked to join them because; you guessed it, they wanted me to lead the singing portions of their camp. Never mind the fact that out of the 30 kids I only recognized two of the faces, I was excited to join in for the ride. The site was located a couple hours from Kottayam town,
so we had to take a bus - we took a public bus actually. How do I describe public buses? Have you ever seen that picture of eight or nine college dudes all smashed into a phone booth? It’s kind of like that, only horizontal and accelerating at 40 to 50 Mph. It’s also exciting
watching thirty people expulse themselves from the bus while strangers help hurl the bags, speakers and musical instruments out of the windows to “catchers” below.
Long story short, I had a great weekend and met a lot of really enjoyable people. I also saw a very large python (in a cage). Keeping with the meeting random church people theme, I spent five days at a “Kerala Pastor’s and
Christian Workers Conference” early in the month. The main speakers, strangely, were Americans, but the true joy of the conference was meeting pastors (Achens) from every corner of Kerala. I heard about pastoral life from the chilly foothills of the Western Ghat Mountains to the impoverished urban slums in the state’s capital, Trivandrum. I also met some young volunteers from various states in the north of India (where Malayalam is not spoken.) We compared our experiences as outsiders in Kerala. Was it better, in my case, to be a foreigner and have everyone recognize you as such? Or was it better, in their case, to be an outsider and have everyone assume you’re local? We finally settled on some common ground, the Malayalam language is really hard to pronounce, no matter who you are.
At the conference they screened a documentary that was called India Untouched. It was an interfaith, interstate, look at the continuing caste related struggles throughout India. It showed that not only Hindus, but Muslims and Christians continue to face discrimination based on caste. I found the portion of the movie set in Kerala to be of particular interest. Everyone they interviewed said, “There is no caste problem left in Kerala”or “We have eradicated caste,” etc. The next shot was of a boarding
school clearly divided along caste lines, with the low caste children forced to do the menial chores while the high caste children played freely. Even in my short time here I can count numerous occasions when people have told me, with complete sincerity, that there is no caste problem in Kerala. I’ve been fortunate this month to have some really enlightening interactions with members of the dalit (oppressed) community. You can read more about those experiences in “Thursdays with Christopher Achen.”
On a side-note about side-projects, I also visited the original burial place of Vasco de Gama in Cochin (before he was returned to Lisbon) and
began playing in nightly badminton games which have been happening uninterrupted for over 30 years! The excitement never stops, and neither
should your letters, e-mails and warm wishes. Thanks again for all of your support.
Election reflection
The process of announcing a new Catholic Pope is a strange one; it involves multiple colors of smoke and very old men. I would place the posting of the results for the C.M.S. College student government on that same level in terms of oddity. On the top floor of the Physics department a special committee counts the ballots by hand. Each result is carefully
written out on piece of paper and hurled out of the window. Everyone sprints to the piece of paper, someone grabs it, shouts out the results, and every member of the elect’s party runs and screams and grabs and jumps and dances in support. This process continues on for a couple of hours until all the positions have been named, then the victorious party
processes out of the gates into the city, waving flags and shouting slogans.
Meanwhile, a veritable battalion of cops armed with helmets and batons look on in case a rival political faction decides to cause trouble. There was no trouble this year, but school was cancelled the following day as a precautionary measure. I have additional photos of the elections and a video of the victory march posted on my album and blog respectively.
Thursdays with Christopher Achen
Christopher Achen is a pastor in the C.S.I. (Church of South India)
and a member of the dalit community. At present he travels five hours twice a week to receive dialysis treatment. As a result, work on his doctoral thesis (concering dalit Christians in central Kerala) and his work in the church have come to a grinding halt. His role as teacher and his role as student have been put on hold. But since I met him by chance one month ago, he has become an important teacher to me.
It all began one day when a surprise strike on campus instantly
cleared my schedule. One of the graduate students, Albin, approached me and said “I have to go fix Christopher Achen’s computer, you are coming with me?” I wasn't sure if that was an offer or a command, but I decided I should probably go with him.
While Albin repaired the ailing computer, Achen and I engaged in
general “get to know you” subjects, you know, the effects of capitalism on an agrarian society, the plight of unemployment in Kerala and the
dilemmas facing of the church today. Though initially I was reluctant to follow Albin on his errand, when he finished his work I found that I didn’t want to leave – this Christopher Achen had some truly fascinating insights about important issues in Kerala today.
"Mid-sentence he paused, let out a brief, punchy laugh and stated very matter-of-factly, 'Jesus has escaped the church."
Ever since that first meeting I’ve been visiting Achen every Thursday
afternoon. I go Thursday because his treatments are on Tuesday and Friday, and Thursday is a solid in-between day. I go in the afternoon because that’s when Kochamma (his wife) makes the most splendid Chai (tea) I think I’ve ever had.
Every week, Achen unfolds the story of his life a little more. He
tells me about his struggles to receive higher education despite
discouragement from the synod. He tells me about protest marches to the Bishop’s house demanding fair representation for dalits in the clergy (this agitation actually got results). He tells me about the disproportionate aid allotted to the already wealthy congregations instead of to the poorest congregations who deal with crumbling churches and dilapidated parsonages.
Last Thursday he left me with an image that I will not soon forget.
Mid-sentence he paused, let out a brief, punchy laugh and stated very matter-of-factly, “Jesus has escaped the church.” It actually had the same cadence as, “Elvis has left the building.” He paused, I laughed. We both continued in open laughter - I mean, just picture it. Jesus, utterly frustrated, hopping off the cross, busting right out through the stained glass depiction of the last supper, and fleeing with Godly speed down the gravel path. I’m not sure about the theological implications of this image, but the point is valid. If the church looks to Jesus as its model for behavior, some of the behavior it has shown would scare the bejeezus out of Jesus. Christopher Achen is my guide through this dark side of the Church, but he is also my encourager in the hope that remains in this ancient organization.
British Fun #2 - Lindsey in the UK
Tamworth Tribune
The Life and Times of Lindsey Swanson Vol. 2
Church Life
The past month has gone by so fast for me! I have been busy preparing for all
the different Christmas activities that we have coming up for the youth. I have two different Christmas plays to organize (one for just the teen group and one
for all the kids ages 3 to 18). It’s been fun for me to revisit the theatre side of
me with set designs, stage directions, and script writing! Also we have a youth Christmas party coming up. And in true Lindsey fashion, I decided that any
good party should have a theme! So the kids are going to a Hollywood Movie Premiere Party, complete with the red carpet, a proper meal, a cinema style movie, and an “after party” dance! I think I might be even more excited for it than the kids. Although it really has helped me to realize what a passion for event planning I have! But in the midst of all the planning and daily grind I was beginning to feel a bit discouraged and confused. I was suppose to be going out of my comfort zone and help people in the margins over the course of this year. Had God really brought me here so that I could plan parties for kids who are worried about their next cell phone, not their next meal? Their seemed to be so much in the way of the spiritual experience that I thought I would be having. I just found myself continually asking “What’s the point?”. After an especially hard week at The Centre, I was leaving for a weekend retreat with my fellow UK YAGM volunteers. I was really looking forward to the chance to vent to my friends about how stressful life was and how much I was struggling with growing and giving spiritually. During one of our first sessions we discussed faith: what did it look like before this year and what does it look like now. It was that moment that I realized what a HUGE shift my faith has taken in only the first 2 months of being in Tamworth, working with the kids and alongside the other adults. What an amazing blessing to have a personal relationship with God and be able to see him everyday through other people!
New British Vocab
Taking the mickey = Making fun of
A Muppet = an idiot
Lady Bird = Lady bug
Quid = Slang for pound (aka Buck)
Gutted = really upset
Ta = Thank you
To Ponder…
10Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. 11Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. 12Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Psalm 51: 10-13
Highlights
1. Christmas planning (Writing a couple plays and putting my event planning skills to use for the youth holiday party)
2. Holiday in Spain (Beaches, the Zoo, loads of fabulous food, trip to Gibraltar, so much beauty!)
3. Laser Tag (Going to laser tag with the boys from Hurley)
4. YAGM retreat (Great friends and Great memories)
5. Poppy & Daisy’s 2nd birthday party (Cake and toys X 2…Twins are twice the fun!)
The Life and Times of Lindsey Swanson Vol. 2
Church Life
The past month has gone by so fast for me! I have been busy preparing for all
the different Christmas activities that we have coming up for the youth. I have two different Christmas plays to organize (one for just the teen group and one
for all the kids ages 3 to 18). It’s been fun for me to revisit the theatre side of
me with set designs, stage directions, and script writing! Also we have a youth Christmas party coming up. And in true Lindsey fashion, I decided that any
good party should have a theme! So the kids are going to a Hollywood Movie Premiere Party, complete with the red carpet, a proper meal, a cinema style movie, and an “after party” dance! I think I might be even more excited for it than the kids. Although it really has helped me to realize what a passion for event planning I have! But in the midst of all the planning and daily grind I was beginning to feel a bit discouraged and confused. I was suppose to be going out of my comfort zone and help people in the margins over the course of this year. Had God really brought me here so that I could plan parties for kids who are worried about their next cell phone, not their next meal? Their seemed to be so much in the way of the spiritual experience that I thought I would be having. I just found myself continually asking “What’s the point?”. After an especially hard week at The Centre, I was leaving for a weekend retreat with my fellow UK YAGM volunteers. I was really looking forward to the chance to vent to my friends about how stressful life was and how much I was struggling with growing and giving spiritually. During one of our first sessions we discussed faith: what did it look like before this year and what does it look like now. It was that moment that I realized what a HUGE shift my faith has taken in only the first 2 months of being in Tamworth, working with the kids and alongside the other adults. What an amazing blessing to have a personal relationship with God and be able to see him everyday through other people!
New British Vocab
Taking the mickey = Making fun of
A Muppet = an idiot
Lady Bird = Lady bug
Quid = Slang for pound (aka Buck)
Gutted = really upset
Ta = Thank you
To Ponder…
10Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. 11Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. 12Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Psalm 51: 10-13
Highlights
1. Christmas planning (Writing a couple plays and putting my event planning skills to use for the youth holiday party)
2. Holiday in Spain (Beaches, the Zoo, loads of fabulous food, trip to Gibraltar, so much beauty!)
3. Laser Tag (Going to laser tag with the boys from Hurley)
4. YAGM retreat (Great friends and Great memories)
5. Poppy & Daisy’s 2nd birthday party (Cake and toys X 2…Twins are twice the fun!)
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Anthony's Lutheran World Travels Pt. 1&2 - UK
Lutheran World Travels
Part 1 & 2
Part 1
Well the journey has begun and is well underway here in the lovely town of Reading, England. I arrived on August 28th 2007 quite tired and completely overwhelmed. As I said my goodbyes to my friends as they headed of to their placements I quickly found my luggage and met up with my supervisor and one of the residents and we were off to Reading and Door of Hope where I work.
In the first month of being here things have been quite hectic, with my arrival and the arrival the newest member to the Hope House family. A beautiful baby girl named Eden Grace was born to my supervisors Jim and Heather. So this meant that I had to learn quite quickly what needed to be down around the house, leaving me little time to sit down and process what it is that I am actually doing for this next year of my year.
One of the things I quickly realized about Door of Hope is that it is very much about family. But this sense of family extends beyond the wall of the house and includes the congregation of Life Spring Church. Door of Hope is a charity that is run by Life Spring Church here in Reading and the congregation is very proactive in the lives of the residents here. So it is not uncommon to have random visits to the house from different people in the church.
Thinking Point
What does it mean to be a part of the Body of Christ?
Part2
One of the things that I have been thinking about lately has been discipleship. In the July-August Seeds for the Parish put out by the ELCA, they had bit about discipleship.
As disciples we called to follow Christ on a life-long journey, imitating the heart and mind of Christ. Disciples are not born; they are formed in a community that learns, encourages, prays, and worships together. This process of spiritual growth and transformation continues as disciples become apostles (those that are sent) on God’s mission to love, serve and witness in the home, community, workplace, and world. God’s presence and promise, given to us in Baptism and affirmed each day, calls us to a “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters.
I began to think about my day-to-day encounters. In a normal day I come to Hope House and we have a morning scripture and prayer. Shortly after we attend to our morning business. Through out the rest of the day we may go and do some gardening for the first part of the morning and then maybe in the afternoon we might play a little soccer or walk into town. At around six o’clock or so we all sit down and have dinner with one another and catch up on each other’s days.
As I began to think about it, discipleship is not something that is overly flashy and you don’t get a badge of honour for being the best at discipleship. But discipleship and disciples are formed in a community that learns, encourages, prays, and worships together. This can be found in your day-to-day encounters. For me, it is in the interactions that I have with the guys I work with, the people we meet as we go gardening, the people that stop by to visit from the church, and even at the dinner table as we all come together and share a meal and our time with one another.
Thinking Point
How should we carry out our “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters? How do we carry out our “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters?
*Soli Deo Gloria
Part 1 & 2
Part 1
Well the journey has begun and is well underway here in the lovely town of Reading, England. I arrived on August 28th 2007 quite tired and completely overwhelmed. As I said my goodbyes to my friends as they headed of to their placements I quickly found my luggage and met up with my supervisor and one of the residents and we were off to Reading and Door of Hope where I work.
In the first month of being here things have been quite hectic, with my arrival and the arrival the newest member to the Hope House family. A beautiful baby girl named Eden Grace was born to my supervisors Jim and Heather. So this meant that I had to learn quite quickly what needed to be down around the house, leaving me little time to sit down and process what it is that I am actually doing for this next year of my year.
One of the things I quickly realized about Door of Hope is that it is very much about family. But this sense of family extends beyond the wall of the house and includes the congregation of Life Spring Church. Door of Hope is a charity that is run by Life Spring Church here in Reading and the congregation is very proactive in the lives of the residents here. So it is not uncommon to have random visits to the house from different people in the church.
Thinking Point
What does it mean to be a part of the Body of Christ?
Part2
One of the things that I have been thinking about lately has been discipleship. In the July-August Seeds for the Parish put out by the ELCA, they had bit about discipleship.
As disciples we called to follow Christ on a life-long journey, imitating the heart and mind of Christ. Disciples are not born; they are formed in a community that learns, encourages, prays, and worships together. This process of spiritual growth and transformation continues as disciples become apostles (those that are sent) on God’s mission to love, serve and witness in the home, community, workplace, and world. God’s presence and promise, given to us in Baptism and affirmed each day, calls us to a “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters.
I began to think about my day-to-day encounters. In a normal day I come to Hope House and we have a morning scripture and prayer. Shortly after we attend to our morning business. Through out the rest of the day we may go and do some gardening for the first part of the morning and then maybe in the afternoon we might play a little soccer or walk into town. At around six o’clock or so we all sit down and have dinner with one another and catch up on each other’s days.
As I began to think about it, discipleship is not something that is overly flashy and you don’t get a badge of honour for being the best at discipleship. But discipleship and disciples are formed in a community that learns, encourages, prays, and worships together. This can be found in your day-to-day encounters. For me, it is in the interactions that I have with the guys I work with, the people we meet as we go gardening, the people that stop by to visit from the church, and even at the dinner table as we all come together and share a meal and our time with one another.
Thinking Point
How should we carry out our “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters? How do we carry out our “vocation” of discipleship in our day-to-day encounters?
*Soli Deo Gloria
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
november newsletter - James in Argentina
I realized the other day that I’m beginning to feel something more for this city and these people when someone mentioned I had 10 months left and I thought “ohh no, only 10 months left”. Month two has been a different and wonderful month. The first month that I was here in Resistencia was a lot of James not really understanding anything.
My principle job here is to give workshops. Currently I am teaching guitar twice a week, helping out with two women who give a workshop for 2-5 year olds, and planning a mural with the kids of the barrio. As I saw it in the beginning I was doing nothing more than teaching some chords and trying to make the barrio a little more pretty with a mural. Then Ofelia, my supervisor who is infinitely wise for her 37 years of age, put what the mission where I work, into perspective. The barrio I work in is very “humble” as my friend Estela puts it. What that means is that there are dirt roads that flood with a foot of water when it rains, streets filled with trash that horses and dogs eat to stay alive only to die of malnutrition, kids with no shoes, and where every person within our church has been robbed at least once within the last year. It’s a life that is far different from any that I’ve ever lived. What I’ve had in my life and taken for granted, I realize as I look around a room of 20 people and see only my hand raised at the question “does anyone have an email address” or as I talk about my travels around the United states, the world, and Argentina to find out the person with whom I speak has never left the city. My existence is far different from the existence of my friends in el barrio Juan Bautista Alverdi. The mission where I work is a place of empowerment. It is a place where painting a mural isn’t about putting color on a wall, it is about showing kids that they have capacity to organize and design, and make where they live more beautiful. Working together isn’t really a skill that has been emphasized in the 4-14 year olds that I work with, and this is a space for them to learn about that. It is frustrating, but Ofelia is just about the most patient person I have ever met, and that calmness has rubbed off on me to some extent. Social rules like not punching to get what you want, or not throwing rocks at a building, aren’t enforced in normal barrio life, and the mission is place where kids can learn and practiced those. Teaching guitar here isn’t about chords, it’s about giving a child or adult, that would normally answer the question “what do you do for fun” with an “I don’t know”, a hobby to be proud of.
I love being in the barrio, and I miss it when I’m not there. This past month has been a time for me to actually make connections with people and show people who I am. I have people to visit now when I am bored, and am invited to things when I mention a free day or night. People ask me about my family and things that are going on in my life, instead of asking how old I am now. Families invite me over to eat now when Im in the barrio and I think I have never been happier than sitting at a table with a mother and 5 daughters from 15 to 30 years old listening to them be a family in spanish. It is incredible. It is a deeper level in the relationships that I have now. I have been called friend and told that I’m like a member of the family, and those moments are just about the greatest things that I could ask for.
Spanish is still so frustrating and a good majority of what I say is wrong or stumbled over, but I don’t let it get to me too much and mistakes are still funny. I asked a woman the other day if she had relations with another woman instead of asking if they were related. I told a girl to give me her eyes instead of a piece of paper, and talked about the plane flu for about 15 minutes instead of the bird flew. The list goes on and on, but I love speaking and learning, and it amazes me to think I have real friends that know about my life and that I care about, that I’ve never shared an English sentence with. I don’t expect to ever be wonderful at speaking Spanish, but a couple correct sentences once in a while would be nice.
I am surrounded by people here that just amaze me and challenge the way that I live. I am learning more of who I am, and when you are removed from everything you know, you learn quickly what your strengths are, and your weaknesses become blaringly obvious. I am happy here in Argentina. 10 months are going to go by very fast.
-james
My principle job here is to give workshops. Currently I am teaching guitar twice a week, helping out with two women who give a workshop for 2-5 year olds, and planning a mural with the kids of the barrio. As I saw it in the beginning I was doing nothing more than teaching some chords and trying to make the barrio a little more pretty with a mural. Then Ofelia, my supervisor who is infinitely wise for her 37 years of age, put what the mission where I work, into perspective. The barrio I work in is very “humble” as my friend Estela puts it. What that means is that there are dirt roads that flood with a foot of water when it rains, streets filled with trash that horses and dogs eat to stay alive only to die of malnutrition, kids with no shoes, and where every person within our church has been robbed at least once within the last year. It’s a life that is far different from any that I’ve ever lived. What I’ve had in my life and taken for granted, I realize as I look around a room of 20 people and see only my hand raised at the question “does anyone have an email address” or as I talk about my travels around the United states, the world, and Argentina to find out the person with whom I speak has never left the city. My existence is far different from the existence of my friends in el barrio Juan Bautista Alverdi. The mission where I work is a place of empowerment. It is a place where painting a mural isn’t about putting color on a wall, it is about showing kids that they have capacity to organize and design, and make where they live more beautiful. Working together isn’t really a skill that has been emphasized in the 4-14 year olds that I work with, and this is a space for them to learn about that. It is frustrating, but Ofelia is just about the most patient person I have ever met, and that calmness has rubbed off on me to some extent. Social rules like not punching to get what you want, or not throwing rocks at a building, aren’t enforced in normal barrio life, and the mission is place where kids can learn and practiced those. Teaching guitar here isn’t about chords, it’s about giving a child or adult, that would normally answer the question “what do you do for fun” with an “I don’t know”, a hobby to be proud of.
I love being in the barrio, and I miss it when I’m not there. This past month has been a time for me to actually make connections with people and show people who I am. I have people to visit now when I am bored, and am invited to things when I mention a free day or night. People ask me about my family and things that are going on in my life, instead of asking how old I am now. Families invite me over to eat now when Im in the barrio and I think I have never been happier than sitting at a table with a mother and 5 daughters from 15 to 30 years old listening to them be a family in spanish. It is incredible. It is a deeper level in the relationships that I have now. I have been called friend and told that I’m like a member of the family, and those moments are just about the greatest things that I could ask for.
Spanish is still so frustrating and a good majority of what I say is wrong or stumbled over, but I don’t let it get to me too much and mistakes are still funny. I asked a woman the other day if she had relations with another woman instead of asking if they were related. I told a girl to give me her eyes instead of a piece of paper, and talked about the plane flu for about 15 minutes instead of the bird flew. The list goes on and on, but I love speaking and learning, and it amazes me to think I have real friends that know about my life and that I care about, that I’ve never shared an English sentence with. I don’t expect to ever be wonderful at speaking Spanish, but a couple correct sentences once in a while would be nice.
I am surrounded by people here that just amaze me and challenge the way that I live. I am learning more of who I am, and when you are removed from everything you know, you learn quickly what your strengths are, and your weaknesses become blaringly obvious. I am happy here in Argentina. 10 months are going to go by very fast.
-james
October Newsletter - Ashley in Slovakia
Life in Koseca
Ashley, Young Adult in Global Mission
October Newsletter
For this newsletter, we were told to unpack the term “missionary” in our own context and calling. In the past, I’ve thought of the word “missionary” as a heavy and loaded term. My idea of the classic missionary was a person who ventured to a land radically different than their own, living in the worst imaginable living conditions in poverty-stricken villages. My stereotypical image of a missionary was one who selflessly brought only the clothes on their back and optimism, loudly proclaiming the gospel and their love for God.
While Slovakia definitely has distinct differences from the U.S., it’s not radically different. I live in a nice, well-kept building and have my own room. I have both internet access and phone access. I can still easily go to a shop and buy Fructis Shampoo, Aquafresh toothpaste, a Snickers candy bar, or a bottle of Sprite. I can even catch Grey’s Anatomy on t.v. here (except my favorite television characters are speaking Slovak instead of English). Believe me when I say that I brought WAY more than the clothes on my back, and many days I struggle with being very optimistic because I’m surrounded by disadvantage, poor health and suffering. And as far as proclaiming the gospel, well, they wouldn’t even be able to understand me because of the language barrier. I’m lucky if I accomplish a small conversation about the weather. So do I feel like a missionary? Sometimes yes, but most times no. Do I still have a strong sense of what the term “missionary” means, or what connotation it carries? I’m not sure. I know it will be something to consider throughout my year of service, and for years to come.
One thing I have learned is that serving God by helping others is usually not a grand gesture. It’s about the small things, as well the bigger. Helping in the kitchen sometimes so the cooks can go home faster, or helping the teachers correct tests so they can spend more time with their families at night, or just attempting to have conversations with those special people that I’ve found here that are lonely and looking for a friend. And often times, I feel like the people I’m meeting here are missionaries also. I feel like they’ve helped me and offered me more help than I’ve been able to offer them in return. I’ve met some truly amazing people.
I learned in my week of orientation that doing mission work is all about accompaniment. I finding more truth in that than I ever imagined I would. Doing mission work isn’t about fixing things, or making situations better, but it’s about being with the people. It’s about experiencing the realities of life with them and learning their ways of life. “I’m here to share my life with you, and please share yours with me too.” And whenever I feel down and frustrated about the language barrier, I think about how much I’ve been able to share with these people, and the friendships I’ve been able to form without ACTUALLY being able to talk to them. It’s truly God’s presence in Koseca.
Peace,
Ashley
Thank you so much for all of your support!! To read more about my experiences, check out my blog online at:
www.ashleyrenslovak.blogspot.com
Ashley, Young Adult in Global Mission
October Newsletter
For this newsletter, we were told to unpack the term “missionary” in our own context and calling. In the past, I’ve thought of the word “missionary” as a heavy and loaded term. My idea of the classic missionary was a person who ventured to a land radically different than their own, living in the worst imaginable living conditions in poverty-stricken villages. My stereotypical image of a missionary was one who selflessly brought only the clothes on their back and optimism, loudly proclaiming the gospel and their love for God.
While Slovakia definitely has distinct differences from the U.S., it’s not radically different. I live in a nice, well-kept building and have my own room. I have both internet access and phone access. I can still easily go to a shop and buy Fructis Shampoo, Aquafresh toothpaste, a Snickers candy bar, or a bottle of Sprite. I can even catch Grey’s Anatomy on t.v. here (except my favorite television characters are speaking Slovak instead of English). Believe me when I say that I brought WAY more than the clothes on my back, and many days I struggle with being very optimistic because I’m surrounded by disadvantage, poor health and suffering. And as far as proclaiming the gospel, well, they wouldn’t even be able to understand me because of the language barrier. I’m lucky if I accomplish a small conversation about the weather. So do I feel like a missionary? Sometimes yes, but most times no. Do I still have a strong sense of what the term “missionary” means, or what connotation it carries? I’m not sure. I know it will be something to consider throughout my year of service, and for years to come.
One thing I have learned is that serving God by helping others is usually not a grand gesture. It’s about the small things, as well the bigger. Helping in the kitchen sometimes so the cooks can go home faster, or helping the teachers correct tests so they can spend more time with their families at night, or just attempting to have conversations with those special people that I’ve found here that are lonely and looking for a friend. And often times, I feel like the people I’m meeting here are missionaries also. I feel like they’ve helped me and offered me more help than I’ve been able to offer them in return. I’ve met some truly amazing people.
I learned in my week of orientation that doing mission work is all about accompaniment. I finding more truth in that than I ever imagined I would. Doing mission work isn’t about fixing things, or making situations better, but it’s about being with the people. It’s about experiencing the realities of life with them and learning their ways of life. “I’m here to share my life with you, and please share yours with me too.” And whenever I feel down and frustrated about the language barrier, I think about how much I’ve been able to share with these people, and the friendships I’ve been able to form without ACTUALLY being able to talk to them. It’s truly God’s presence in Koseca.
Peace,
Ashley
Thank you so much for all of your support!! To read more about my experiences, check out my blog online at:
www.ashleyrenslovak.blogspot.com
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
October Remember what your mother told you... Octubre Recuerda los concejos de tu madre... - Kristina in Argentina
Octubre, mes de la reforma una reforma que comienza en cada uno de nuestros corazones.
Saludos y bendiciones a todosJ
Octubre vino y se fue y aun sigo viva luego de un mes lleno de puntos muy positivos y otros momentos muy bajos. Bueno aquí va:
Algunos puntos que he sacado de mi cajita de memoria colectiva:
· El 21 de Octubre fue el día de las madres y por lo tanto vinieron a visitar varias de las madres de los estudiantes que viven acá en HUL. Incluso vino la madre de Andrea (la pastora de la iglesia) cuyo nombre es Graciela como el de mi mama.
· El bautismo de Priscila, el primer bautismo realizado por Andrea desde su ordenación acá en San Timoteo.
· El coro de la iglesia viajó a Tandil para cantar en la Iglesia Luterana Danesa. Un coro compuesto solamente por varones dirigido por dos increíbles directoras de coro. Todos son estudiantes de la Universidad.
· Tuve muchas conversaciones interesantes en el transcurso de la visita en Tandil entre todas me sorprendió una que tuve con uno de los chicos del coro que se llama Pablo. Mientras cenábamos una de las noches me empezó a hacer preguntas sobre lo que había leído en la pared de la iglesia referente a la reforma, Martín Lutero y lo que hace la iglesia Luterana. A veces pensamos que aquellos pequeños detalles no tendrán un impacto pero si lo tienen.
· ¡¡Celebramos dos cumpleaños!! Nos reunimos todos a comer el día antes tarde en la noche para estar con el y la cumpleañero/a a la media noche. Así fuimos los primeros en felicitarle. No poco después empezaron las demás llamadas de felicitación. La celebración continúa entonces a través del día completo hasta que se finalice el día.
· Pude ver el proceso democrático argentino en acción al acompañar a Andrea a votar el día 28. Muchos salieron a sus pueblos a votar ya que es obligatorio votar a partir de los 18 años.
· El dia 3 de noviembre celebramos la reforma y el 50 aniversario de la iglesia. Todo quedo mejor de lo que esperábamos.
Dado que este mes fue el mes de las madres y dado también que el 4 de noviembre es el cumpleaños de mi mama y por ultimo dado que extrañe a mi mama en este mes que paso quiero dedicarle esta edición de mi recuento mensual. Así que mami esta es para ti.
“Recuerda lo que siempre te dijo tu madre."- The Really Useful Book, Mirror Mask
Alguna vez te has fijado en aquellas cositas que antes no te salían pero ahora sin haberte dado cuenta las puedes hacer. Puede ser algo de tan poca importancia como lo es saber atar un globo. Bueno mi gente les puedo decir con mucha honra que recién si pude atar un globo sin problema y no es lo único que en estos días ha caído en la categoría de cosas que sin darme cuenta las puedo hacer. Y en ese caminar me he dado cuenta que mi madre como toda persona que uno ama me acompaña susurrándome al oído. “¿Que tenemos, como lo podemos usar, que sabemos hacer?” En la Casita desde el momento en que llegue se me preguntó cual seria mi función ahí. Todavía no se del todo por lo tanto estoy haciendo lo que se hacer, contando cuentos escribiendo historias dibujando superhéroes para que los niños pinten. Nunca me he visualizado como una persona que es buena trabajando con niños pequeños al contrario muchas veces me vuelvo un ocho y prefiero dejarle la tarea a otro. Por lo tanto durante el primer mes y medio me encontraba titubeando dando pasos cautelosos con la esperanza de que así no vaya a cometer una error de grande escala.
Un Martes en la mañana la pequeña Lucia trata de cruzar el pasa mano en el parque del patio de repente se queda sin agarre y cae al suelo. PAM! Llora, llora, llora, y yo que salgo corriendo a recogerla del piso. La llevo cargada hacia dentro al mismo tiempo revisando que estuviera bien. “Todo esta bien. Vamos a tomar un poco de agua y todo va estar bien.” Y en realidad estaba bien tomo un sorbo de agua y salio corriendo de nuevo a jugar con los demás. Los niños caen pero así mismo como han caído se vuelven a levantar. Salgo de nuevo a observar que no se estén peleando por los columpios y Rosario una niña de 6 que parece de menos por lo flaquita que esta sale corriendo a abrazarme. A los demás niños no les gusta tocar o acercarse a ella aun así yo la abrazo. Rodrigo que recién regresa luego de haber faltado debido a unas heridas que había recibido mediante una pelea en la escuela que lo dejo en el hospital. Como siempre esta peleando con todos pegándole a los mas pequeños. Por mas esfuerzo que haga no logro que me haga caso. Emilce los llama a que entren a lavarse las manos para comer y Bautista que es el más nuevo del grupo no deja de llorar porque quiere a su mama. Se exactamente como se siente y solo empeora cuando se cae. Me le acerco y lo ayudo a levantarse. “Muéstrame tus manos. Oh Dios mío no hay sangre no! y no veo tripas. Bueno vas a vivir.” Siempre me reía cuando mi mama me salía así y el también.
Le cuento a Emilce lo que andaba haciendo Rodrigo afuera y ella lo regaña en frente de todos dejándonos temporalmente en silencio antes de comer. Luego cuando las pancitas estaban llenas y los platos fueron llevados de a poco para lavarse empezaron a llegar los padres y o hermanos mayores para llevarse a los chiquitos hacia sus casas. Rodrigo se acercaba lentamente hacia donde yo estaba recibiendo los platos pero antes de que guardara lo suyo me tiro lo que quedaba de su yogurt encima y salio caminando como si nada hubiese pasado.
Emilce lo llamo “¡Venid acá Rodrigo y discúlpate!” Pero no dijo nada sino que se me quedo mirando con una cara vacía y en ese momento me sentí como si tuviese 8 años también. Quería hacer algo, agarrar la hoya llena de yogurt y tirársela encima pero en ese mismo momento mi madre me agarro por la mano y me dijo: “Kristina hay que amar y tratar a otros como quisiéramos que nos trataran a nosotros mismos.” “¿Pero mamaaaa como me vas a pedir que ame a alguien que es tan malo, tan violento?”
No se disculpó se fue para su casa y así quedo todo.
Mi gente todos sabemos que los argumentos siempre quedan mejores en nuestras mentes después del hecho. Este caso no es la excepción. Quizás debí haberle dicho a Rodrigo, “No me importa te sigo queriendo igual.” Pero no pude. Si Dios me esta llamando a amar a estos niños porque me costo tanto. Ojala que si no puedo mostrarlo con palabras aun así lo pueda mostrar con mis acciones. En aquellas historias que les cuento y los dibujos que hago para que pinten.
“¿Y de esto que has aprendido Kristina?” “No puedo decirte del todo mama pero si se que estoy aprendiendo y recordando, como jugar, como pintar y dibujar como cuando era niña. Estoy encontrando la confianza que necesito para cuidar y querer a alguien fuera de nuestra familia al expandir mi círculo.
Quiero agradecerle a mi madre por haberme ayudado escribir esto porque aunque ella no este conmigo físicamente la llevo conmigo. En este mes me he sentido que pertenezco a este lugar que se me ha recibido como parte de una familia extendida.
Me siento en casa aunque este sea un lugar nuevo. Estoy aprendiendo que si puedo querer y cuidar de otros pero al mismo tiempo estoy aprendiendo que esta bien dejar a otros cuidar de mi aun cuando no saben que lo están haciendo.
Asi que los dejo con un ejemplo de lo que quiero decir. El viernes pasado
Me encontraba muy cansada luego de haber estado corriendo para todas partes a terminar dirigencias. Emocionalmente todavía estaba agotada por el día anterior en la Casita y a la mañana había pasado un tiempo con una consejera que me esta ayudando reviviendo ciertos momentos de mi propia niñez que fueron no del todo buenos y esto me dejo sin energía. A pesar de todo había mucho por hacer y poco tiempo para hacerlo pero cuando me senté a trabajar encontré que no lo estaba haciendo con todo el esfuerzo que se merecía. Entonces decidí ir al patio a tomar unas fotos que me faltaban para la línea cronológica que estábamos preparando para el aniversario. Gonzalo, uno de los chicos que vive en el hogar salio y me pregunto:
“¿Hola Kris como estas? ¿Estas bien?”
Estoy… bien…. Tomando fotos para el trabajo que estoy hacienda para la iglesia.
“¿Hago un Tereré?” (Maté pero frío y con jugo)
“Dale.” Gonza entro e hizo el Tereré y nos sentamos al sol a tomarlo. EL en una silla y yo en la hamaca que había traído Federico otro de los chicos que vive en el Hogar. Hacia un tiempo atrás que había hecho mención de que tenia uno y cuando salio a votar se la trajo con el. (Yay!) Entonces entre una cosa y la otra Gonzalo y yo hablamos de la familia y cosas de la vida tomando un tiempito para parar del ajetreo que a veces nos agarra sin darnos cuenta. Ese tiempo era necesario para mi era lo que yo necesitaba para poder estar bien. No se si se debió haber dado cuenta o no pero el me ayudo a cuidar de mi misma al tomarse un momento para compartir conmigo.
Se que tengo la mala costumbre de no decirle a la gente cuando me siento mal porque tengo miedo de que vayan a pensar que soy una débil. En este mes he aprendido de a poco que esta bien compartir esa parte también.
Así que creo que los dejo con estas ultimas palabras que me vienen a la mente:
“Lo mas grande en la vida que se puede aprender es el amar y ser amado en cambio…” Mulan Rouge
____________________________________________________________
October the month in which we celebrate reformation a reformation that begins with in each and every one of our hearts.
Hello every body,
October has come and gone and I am still alive. This month has been filled with extreme highs and extreme lows. So here goes.
Highlights from my collective box of memories:
· Mother’s day was October 21 and many mothers of the kids staying at HUL came to visit including Pastor Andrea’s mom who’s name is also Graciela like my mom for the Anniversary.
· Priscilla’s baptism, the first baptism performed by Pastor Andrea since her ordination at San Timoteo.
· The Church Choir was invited to sing at Tandil’s Danish Lutheran church. It’s an all male choir led by two amazing young women. They are all students at the university.
· I had many interesting conversations with all of them but was surprised when in one conversation Pablo one of the choir members started asking me questions about what he had read on the church wall on the reformation, Martin Lutheran and what the Lutheran Church is about. Sometimes we think the little things won’t have that much of an impact but they do.
· We celebrated two birthday parties. Having gathered late at night the day before to eat we were with them ( Eugenia and Pablo) at the stroke of midnight and therefore we were the first in congratulating them on there day. Shortly afterward the phone calls started for both of them. The celebrating continued on ending only at the end of their day.
· I got to see the democratic process happen here by accompanying Andrea when she went to vote on the 28th. Many people left town that weekend to their own home towns to vote. Voting is mandatory by law when you reach the age of 18.
· November 3rd we celebrated Martin Luther’s Reformation and the church’s 50th anniversary. Everything turned out better than we could have hoped for.
I have to be honest being that it was mother’s day and today is my mom’s birthday I have to admit, I miss my mom, So this ones for you mama.
“Remember what your mother told you."- The Really Useful Book, Mirror Mask
You know those little things you couldn’t do before and then one day your older and with out knowing it you realize you can. It could be something small like tying a balloon which I am proud to say I did successful just recently. These past few days I have found this to be true and in the walking I have found that my mother has been with me whispering into my ear. “What do we have, how can we use it, what do we know?” At la Casita from the moment I got there I was asked what I would be doing there. I’m still not sure all I know how to do is tell stories and draw I’ve never seen myself as someone capable or good at being around kids. So I flounder about hoping I won’t mess up. Then one Tuesday morning little Lucia tries to cross the monkey bars and falls hard. The tears come rushing out and I come rushing in picking her up carrying her inside to look her over. “It’s ok, everything is going to be fine. Here drink some water.” She really is fine just a little scared but after a sip of water she runs outside again to play with the others. Children fall but they get back up again. I go out side again to monitor who’s swinging longer than they should Lucia smiles at me and Rosario who nobody likes to touch or be around comes running to hug me before running back to the swing set. Rodrigo who is finally back after being away due to injuries he received in a school fight is there too. As usual he is fighting with every one and smacking the little kids around. I can’t get him to stop. Emilce calls them in to wash there hands before lunch and Bautista who is new won’t stop crying because he wants his mom. I know how he feels and it is only made worst when he trips on his own feet and falls. I approach him and help him up. “Show me your hands. Gasp! No guts, no blood ok looks like you’ll live.” I always laughed when my mother did that and so did he as he went to join the others inside.
I inform Emilce about Rodrigo’s behavior and she scolds him in front of every one leaving us in temporary silence before eating. Afterwards when bellies were full and plates were gradually being brought over parents and older siblings began arriving to take the kids home. Rodrigo slowly approached me with his plates but before he put his plate down on the counter he flung the rest of his yogurt at my head and left.
Emilce called him back tried to make him apologize but he wouldn’t. At that moment I felt 8 years old too and wanted to dunk his head in the pot of yogurt but my mother took me by the hand and said “We have to love each other and treat others as we would like to be treated.” “But mom how do you love some one who is so violent?
He did not say he was sorry he went home.
Every argument is always better in your head and after the fact. This case is no different. Maybe I should have told him even though you won’t say you’re sorry I love you the same; but I couldn’t. God is calling me to love these kids and I am trying even though it hasn’t come out in the form of words I hope it comes through in the little things. In the stories I tell them and the drawings they color. “What have you learned from this Kristina?”
I’ not sure yet but I do know that I am learning and remembering, how to play and color. I am finding confidence in caring for someone who is not in our family by expanding my circle.
I thank my mother for helping me write this because even though she isn’t physically here I carry her with me. This month has been filled with a feeling of belonging and acceptance. I am at home in this new place where I am learning that I can care for others but I am also learning to let others care for me even when they don’t realize they are doing so. I’ll leave you with a final short story that is an example of that. This past Friday I was very tired after having run errands all morning and I was still weary from the day before at La Casita. It felt like I was reliving certain moments from my own child hood leaving me emotionally drained. There was a lot of work to get done but as I sat down to work I found that it was only half heartedly. So I went out into the yard to take some pictures that I needed for the timeline we were putting together for the church’s anniversary. Gonzalo, one of the guys who lives down stairs came out side to ask.
“Hey Kris you ok?”
I’m so so, just taking some picture for the timeline.
“Want me to make some Tereré?” ( Maté but cold and with juice)
“Sure.” So he went and made some Tereré and we sat in the sun he in a chair me on the hammock that Federico another guy who lives down stairs had brought back from home at my request. (Yay!) We talked about our families and took a moment to just slow down. That moment was what I needed. I don’t know if he could tell that but it happened just the same; he helped me take care of myself by caring about me. Often in my life experience I have felt that it’s not ok to show that you don’t feel well. People will think you are weak but part of me is learning that sharing that of yourself is ok as well.
So I guess I’ll leave you with a final quote that comes to mind:
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return…” Mulan Rouge
Saludos y bendiciones a todosJ
Octubre vino y se fue y aun sigo viva luego de un mes lleno de puntos muy positivos y otros momentos muy bajos. Bueno aquí va:
Algunos puntos que he sacado de mi cajita de memoria colectiva:
· El 21 de Octubre fue el día de las madres y por lo tanto vinieron a visitar varias de las madres de los estudiantes que viven acá en HUL. Incluso vino la madre de Andrea (la pastora de la iglesia) cuyo nombre es Graciela como el de mi mama.
· El bautismo de Priscila, el primer bautismo realizado por Andrea desde su ordenación acá en San Timoteo.
· El coro de la iglesia viajó a Tandil para cantar en la Iglesia Luterana Danesa. Un coro compuesto solamente por varones dirigido por dos increíbles directoras de coro. Todos son estudiantes de la Universidad.
· Tuve muchas conversaciones interesantes en el transcurso de la visita en Tandil entre todas me sorprendió una que tuve con uno de los chicos del coro que se llama Pablo. Mientras cenábamos una de las noches me empezó a hacer preguntas sobre lo que había leído en la pared de la iglesia referente a la reforma, Martín Lutero y lo que hace la iglesia Luterana. A veces pensamos que aquellos pequeños detalles no tendrán un impacto pero si lo tienen.
· ¡¡Celebramos dos cumpleaños!! Nos reunimos todos a comer el día antes tarde en la noche para estar con el y la cumpleañero/a a la media noche. Así fuimos los primeros en felicitarle. No poco después empezaron las demás llamadas de felicitación. La celebración continúa entonces a través del día completo hasta que se finalice el día.
· Pude ver el proceso democrático argentino en acción al acompañar a Andrea a votar el día 28. Muchos salieron a sus pueblos a votar ya que es obligatorio votar a partir de los 18 años.
· El dia 3 de noviembre celebramos la reforma y el 50 aniversario de la iglesia. Todo quedo mejor de lo que esperábamos.
Dado que este mes fue el mes de las madres y dado también que el 4 de noviembre es el cumpleaños de mi mama y por ultimo dado que extrañe a mi mama en este mes que paso quiero dedicarle esta edición de mi recuento mensual. Así que mami esta es para ti.
“Recuerda lo que siempre te dijo tu madre."- The Really Useful Book, Mirror Mask
Alguna vez te has fijado en aquellas cositas que antes no te salían pero ahora sin haberte dado cuenta las puedes hacer. Puede ser algo de tan poca importancia como lo es saber atar un globo. Bueno mi gente les puedo decir con mucha honra que recién si pude atar un globo sin problema y no es lo único que en estos días ha caído en la categoría de cosas que sin darme cuenta las puedo hacer. Y en ese caminar me he dado cuenta que mi madre como toda persona que uno ama me acompaña susurrándome al oído. “¿Que tenemos, como lo podemos usar, que sabemos hacer?” En la Casita desde el momento en que llegue se me preguntó cual seria mi función ahí. Todavía no se del todo por lo tanto estoy haciendo lo que se hacer, contando cuentos escribiendo historias dibujando superhéroes para que los niños pinten. Nunca me he visualizado como una persona que es buena trabajando con niños pequeños al contrario muchas veces me vuelvo un ocho y prefiero dejarle la tarea a otro. Por lo tanto durante el primer mes y medio me encontraba titubeando dando pasos cautelosos con la esperanza de que así no vaya a cometer una error de grande escala.
Un Martes en la mañana la pequeña Lucia trata de cruzar el pasa mano en el parque del patio de repente se queda sin agarre y cae al suelo. PAM! Llora, llora, llora, y yo que salgo corriendo a recogerla del piso. La llevo cargada hacia dentro al mismo tiempo revisando que estuviera bien. “Todo esta bien. Vamos a tomar un poco de agua y todo va estar bien.” Y en realidad estaba bien tomo un sorbo de agua y salio corriendo de nuevo a jugar con los demás. Los niños caen pero así mismo como han caído se vuelven a levantar. Salgo de nuevo a observar que no se estén peleando por los columpios y Rosario una niña de 6 que parece de menos por lo flaquita que esta sale corriendo a abrazarme. A los demás niños no les gusta tocar o acercarse a ella aun así yo la abrazo. Rodrigo que recién regresa luego de haber faltado debido a unas heridas que había recibido mediante una pelea en la escuela que lo dejo en el hospital. Como siempre esta peleando con todos pegándole a los mas pequeños. Por mas esfuerzo que haga no logro que me haga caso. Emilce los llama a que entren a lavarse las manos para comer y Bautista que es el más nuevo del grupo no deja de llorar porque quiere a su mama. Se exactamente como se siente y solo empeora cuando se cae. Me le acerco y lo ayudo a levantarse. “Muéstrame tus manos. Oh Dios mío no hay sangre no! y no veo tripas. Bueno vas a vivir.” Siempre me reía cuando mi mama me salía así y el también.
Le cuento a Emilce lo que andaba haciendo Rodrigo afuera y ella lo regaña en frente de todos dejándonos temporalmente en silencio antes de comer. Luego cuando las pancitas estaban llenas y los platos fueron llevados de a poco para lavarse empezaron a llegar los padres y o hermanos mayores para llevarse a los chiquitos hacia sus casas. Rodrigo se acercaba lentamente hacia donde yo estaba recibiendo los platos pero antes de que guardara lo suyo me tiro lo que quedaba de su yogurt encima y salio caminando como si nada hubiese pasado.
Emilce lo llamo “¡Venid acá Rodrigo y discúlpate!” Pero no dijo nada sino que se me quedo mirando con una cara vacía y en ese momento me sentí como si tuviese 8 años también. Quería hacer algo, agarrar la hoya llena de yogurt y tirársela encima pero en ese mismo momento mi madre me agarro por la mano y me dijo: “Kristina hay que amar y tratar a otros como quisiéramos que nos trataran a nosotros mismos.” “¿Pero mamaaaa como me vas a pedir que ame a alguien que es tan malo, tan violento?”
No se disculpó se fue para su casa y así quedo todo.
Mi gente todos sabemos que los argumentos siempre quedan mejores en nuestras mentes después del hecho. Este caso no es la excepción. Quizás debí haberle dicho a Rodrigo, “No me importa te sigo queriendo igual.” Pero no pude. Si Dios me esta llamando a amar a estos niños porque me costo tanto. Ojala que si no puedo mostrarlo con palabras aun así lo pueda mostrar con mis acciones. En aquellas historias que les cuento y los dibujos que hago para que pinten.
“¿Y de esto que has aprendido Kristina?” “No puedo decirte del todo mama pero si se que estoy aprendiendo y recordando, como jugar, como pintar y dibujar como cuando era niña. Estoy encontrando la confianza que necesito para cuidar y querer a alguien fuera de nuestra familia al expandir mi círculo.
Quiero agradecerle a mi madre por haberme ayudado escribir esto porque aunque ella no este conmigo físicamente la llevo conmigo. En este mes me he sentido que pertenezco a este lugar que se me ha recibido como parte de una familia extendida.
Me siento en casa aunque este sea un lugar nuevo. Estoy aprendiendo que si puedo querer y cuidar de otros pero al mismo tiempo estoy aprendiendo que esta bien dejar a otros cuidar de mi aun cuando no saben que lo están haciendo.
Asi que los dejo con un ejemplo de lo que quiero decir. El viernes pasado
Me encontraba muy cansada luego de haber estado corriendo para todas partes a terminar dirigencias. Emocionalmente todavía estaba agotada por el día anterior en la Casita y a la mañana había pasado un tiempo con una consejera que me esta ayudando reviviendo ciertos momentos de mi propia niñez que fueron no del todo buenos y esto me dejo sin energía. A pesar de todo había mucho por hacer y poco tiempo para hacerlo pero cuando me senté a trabajar encontré que no lo estaba haciendo con todo el esfuerzo que se merecía. Entonces decidí ir al patio a tomar unas fotos que me faltaban para la línea cronológica que estábamos preparando para el aniversario. Gonzalo, uno de los chicos que vive en el hogar salio y me pregunto:
“¿Hola Kris como estas? ¿Estas bien?”
Estoy… bien…. Tomando fotos para el trabajo que estoy hacienda para la iglesia.
“¿Hago un Tereré?” (Maté pero frío y con jugo)
“Dale.” Gonza entro e hizo el Tereré y nos sentamos al sol a tomarlo. EL en una silla y yo en la hamaca que había traído Federico otro de los chicos que vive en el Hogar. Hacia un tiempo atrás que había hecho mención de que tenia uno y cuando salio a votar se la trajo con el. (Yay!) Entonces entre una cosa y la otra Gonzalo y yo hablamos de la familia y cosas de la vida tomando un tiempito para parar del ajetreo que a veces nos agarra sin darnos cuenta. Ese tiempo era necesario para mi era lo que yo necesitaba para poder estar bien. No se si se debió haber dado cuenta o no pero el me ayudo a cuidar de mi misma al tomarse un momento para compartir conmigo.
Se que tengo la mala costumbre de no decirle a la gente cuando me siento mal porque tengo miedo de que vayan a pensar que soy una débil. En este mes he aprendido de a poco que esta bien compartir esa parte también.
Así que creo que los dejo con estas ultimas palabras que me vienen a la mente:
“Lo mas grande en la vida que se puede aprender es el amar y ser amado en cambio…” Mulan Rouge
____________________________________________________________
October the month in which we celebrate reformation a reformation that begins with in each and every one of our hearts.
Hello every body,
October has come and gone and I am still alive. This month has been filled with extreme highs and extreme lows. So here goes.
Highlights from my collective box of memories:
· Mother’s day was October 21 and many mothers of the kids staying at HUL came to visit including Pastor Andrea’s mom who’s name is also Graciela like my mom for the Anniversary.
· Priscilla’s baptism, the first baptism performed by Pastor Andrea since her ordination at San Timoteo.
· The Church Choir was invited to sing at Tandil’s Danish Lutheran church. It’s an all male choir led by two amazing young women. They are all students at the university.
· I had many interesting conversations with all of them but was surprised when in one conversation Pablo one of the choir members started asking me questions about what he had read on the church wall on the reformation, Martin Lutheran and what the Lutheran Church is about. Sometimes we think the little things won’t have that much of an impact but they do.
· We celebrated two birthday parties. Having gathered late at night the day before to eat we were with them ( Eugenia and Pablo) at the stroke of midnight and therefore we were the first in congratulating them on there day. Shortly afterward the phone calls started for both of them. The celebrating continued on ending only at the end of their day.
· I got to see the democratic process happen here by accompanying Andrea when she went to vote on the 28th. Many people left town that weekend to their own home towns to vote. Voting is mandatory by law when you reach the age of 18.
· November 3rd we celebrated Martin Luther’s Reformation and the church’s 50th anniversary. Everything turned out better than we could have hoped for.
I have to be honest being that it was mother’s day and today is my mom’s birthday I have to admit, I miss my mom, So this ones for you mama.
“Remember what your mother told you."- The Really Useful Book, Mirror Mask
You know those little things you couldn’t do before and then one day your older and with out knowing it you realize you can. It could be something small like tying a balloon which I am proud to say I did successful just recently. These past few days I have found this to be true and in the walking I have found that my mother has been with me whispering into my ear. “What do we have, how can we use it, what do we know?” At la Casita from the moment I got there I was asked what I would be doing there. I’m still not sure all I know how to do is tell stories and draw I’ve never seen myself as someone capable or good at being around kids. So I flounder about hoping I won’t mess up. Then one Tuesday morning little Lucia tries to cross the monkey bars and falls hard. The tears come rushing out and I come rushing in picking her up carrying her inside to look her over. “It’s ok, everything is going to be fine. Here drink some water.” She really is fine just a little scared but after a sip of water she runs outside again to play with the others. Children fall but they get back up again. I go out side again to monitor who’s swinging longer than they should Lucia smiles at me and Rosario who nobody likes to touch or be around comes running to hug me before running back to the swing set. Rodrigo who is finally back after being away due to injuries he received in a school fight is there too. As usual he is fighting with every one and smacking the little kids around. I can’t get him to stop. Emilce calls them in to wash there hands before lunch and Bautista who is new won’t stop crying because he wants his mom. I know how he feels and it is only made worst when he trips on his own feet and falls. I approach him and help him up. “Show me your hands. Gasp! No guts, no blood ok looks like you’ll live.” I always laughed when my mother did that and so did he as he went to join the others inside.
I inform Emilce about Rodrigo’s behavior and she scolds him in front of every one leaving us in temporary silence before eating. Afterwards when bellies were full and plates were gradually being brought over parents and older siblings began arriving to take the kids home. Rodrigo slowly approached me with his plates but before he put his plate down on the counter he flung the rest of his yogurt at my head and left.
Emilce called him back tried to make him apologize but he wouldn’t. At that moment I felt 8 years old too and wanted to dunk his head in the pot of yogurt but my mother took me by the hand and said “We have to love each other and treat others as we would like to be treated.” “But mom how do you love some one who is so violent?
He did not say he was sorry he went home.
Every argument is always better in your head and after the fact. This case is no different. Maybe I should have told him even though you won’t say you’re sorry I love you the same; but I couldn’t. God is calling me to love these kids and I am trying even though it hasn’t come out in the form of words I hope it comes through in the little things. In the stories I tell them and the drawings they color. “What have you learned from this Kristina?”
I’ not sure yet but I do know that I am learning and remembering, how to play and color. I am finding confidence in caring for someone who is not in our family by expanding my circle.
I thank my mother for helping me write this because even though she isn’t physically here I carry her with me. This month has been filled with a feeling of belonging and acceptance. I am at home in this new place where I am learning that I can care for others but I am also learning to let others care for me even when they don’t realize they are doing so. I’ll leave you with a final short story that is an example of that. This past Friday I was very tired after having run errands all morning and I was still weary from the day before at La Casita. It felt like I was reliving certain moments from my own child hood leaving me emotionally drained. There was a lot of work to get done but as I sat down to work I found that it was only half heartedly. So I went out into the yard to take some pictures that I needed for the timeline we were putting together for the church’s anniversary. Gonzalo, one of the guys who lives down stairs came out side to ask.
“Hey Kris you ok?”
I’m so so, just taking some picture for the timeline.
“Want me to make some Tereré?” ( Maté but cold and with juice)
“Sure.” So he went and made some Tereré and we sat in the sun he in a chair me on the hammock that Federico another guy who lives down stairs had brought back from home at my request. (Yay!) We talked about our families and took a moment to just slow down. That moment was what I needed. I don’t know if he could tell that but it happened just the same; he helped me take care of myself by caring about me. Often in my life experience I have felt that it’s not ok to show that you don’t feel well. People will think you are weak but part of me is learning that sharing that of yourself is ok as well.
So I guess I’ll leave you with a final quote that comes to mind:
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return…” Mulan Rouge
Monday, November 5, 2007
Jennys Mexican Adventures Vol. II - Andale Pues
Hi All,
I truly dont know where to begin. First, hello! I hope this finds you all well. Second, a big thank you to those of you who have been sending emails and messages; it means a lot. (Thank you, also, for your patience with my response time!) Also, I apologize in advance for the lack of correct punctuation- even Mexican keyboards are different!
Life here in Cuernavaca is good. Ive been officially "on the ground" living and working here for just shy of two months. These past weeks have been intense; a time to settle in and try to figure out just where I fit. It feels more natural everyday, and I treasure both my routine and the surprises. "Andale pues" ("on-duh-lay pwace") literally means "well, go on" or "well, go do it." Andale pues has become something of a mantra for me to stop (over) thinking and just do it.
My initial assessment of Camindo Unidos, the school I work at, as a place of love and chaos has been pretty right on. We have 84 students ages 1-16 from a variety of different situations. The common denominator, though, is that these kids need a safe, loving place where they can eat, shower, learn, and play. There is some formal education for the older students, but there is also a big focus on building self-confidence and taking care of their basic health needs. (This morning we distributed antiparasite medications in between singing and eating breakfast.) The ideology of CU is pretty intense, and it is a really interesting and positive way of approaching things. At times my days are frustrating or overwhelming, but I really feel that I am part of something both wonderful and necessary. That, and there are moments with these little ones that are beautiful or just plain fun.
My host family is great; they are truly fabulous and genuine people. Life with Oli, Vicente, and Caro is a series of fun(ny) adventures that I never could have expected- like spontaneously going to a bullfight and battling huge beetles en route from delivering 1500 baby chicks to a farm in the next puebla, all on a Monday night. I have an enormous extended family here who have also welcomed me with open arms, and I feel very blessed.
I am also lucky to have a great support system with friends and coworkers; it is nice to be on this crazy ride together. Some of the more absurd events so far: eating goat tacos, my host mom getting stung by a scorpion in our kitchen, "camping" in a starfruit warehouse, and inadvertantly being part of a graveside ceremony in an indigenous village.
Well, thats me. Please let me know how all of you are doing! Also, if anyone knows a good "why did the chicken cross the road?" joke, please share it, as this is actually an issue in my everyday life.
Lots and lots and lots of lovin,
Jenny
p.s. Explanation of photos-
1. On a field trip to see the cows with my students; a pretty accurate picture of life at CU.
2. In the Zocolo (town square) on Mexicos Independence Day, awaiting the "Viva Mexico!" shout from the governor.
3. The procession to the graveyard as a part of a festival in Cuentepec, where Katie, Sarah, Heidi, and I also ate mole at 3 different houses.
4. Visiting pyramids in Palapa, Veracruz, with my dear friend Julia.
5. Bathing Araceli. Believe it or not, that baby girl is almost six years old.
I truly dont know where to begin. First, hello! I hope this finds you all well. Second, a big thank you to those of you who have been sending emails and messages; it means a lot. (Thank you, also, for your patience with my response time!) Also, I apologize in advance for the lack of correct punctuation- even Mexican keyboards are different!
Life here in Cuernavaca is good. Ive been officially "on the ground" living and working here for just shy of two months. These past weeks have been intense; a time to settle in and try to figure out just where I fit. It feels more natural everyday, and I treasure both my routine and the surprises. "Andale pues" ("on-duh-lay pwace") literally means "well, go on" or "well, go do it." Andale pues has become something of a mantra for me to stop (over) thinking and just do it.
My initial assessment of Camindo Unidos, the school I work at, as a place of love and chaos has been pretty right on. We have 84 students ages 1-16 from a variety of different situations. The common denominator, though, is that these kids need a safe, loving place where they can eat, shower, learn, and play. There is some formal education for the older students, but there is also a big focus on building self-confidence and taking care of their basic health needs. (This morning we distributed antiparasite medications in between singing and eating breakfast.) The ideology of CU is pretty intense, and it is a really interesting and positive way of approaching things. At times my days are frustrating or overwhelming, but I really feel that I am part of something both wonderful and necessary. That, and there are moments with these little ones that are beautiful or just plain fun.
My host family is great; they are truly fabulous and genuine people. Life with Oli, Vicente, and Caro is a series of fun(ny) adventures that I never could have expected- like spontaneously going to a bullfight and battling huge beetles en route from delivering 1500 baby chicks to a farm in the next puebla, all on a Monday night. I have an enormous extended family here who have also welcomed me with open arms, and I feel very blessed.
I am also lucky to have a great support system with friends and coworkers; it is nice to be on this crazy ride together. Some of the more absurd events so far: eating goat tacos, my host mom getting stung by a scorpion in our kitchen, "camping" in a starfruit warehouse, and inadvertantly being part of a graveside ceremony in an indigenous village.
Well, thats me. Please let me know how all of you are doing! Also, if anyone knows a good "why did the chicken cross the road?" joke, please share it, as this is actually an issue in my everyday life.
Lots and lots and lots of lovin,
Jenny
p.s. Explanation of photos-
1. On a field trip to see the cows with my students; a pretty accurate picture of life at CU.
2. In the Zocolo (town square) on Mexicos Independence Day, awaiting the "Viva Mexico!" shout from the governor.
3. The procession to the graveyard as a part of a festival in Cuentepec, where Katie, Sarah, Heidi, and I also ate mole at 3 different houses.
4. Visiting pyramids in Palapa, Veracruz, with my dear friend Julia.
5. Bathing Araceli. Believe it or not, that baby girl is almost six years old.
October Newsletter! - Jessica in Slovakia
Jessica’s October Newsletter
Updates from Horná Mičiná, Slovakia
October was an exciting time in Horná Mičiná, because it was harvest time for the farmers (most of the people in the village are small farmers). The second Sunday of the month was Thanksgiving Sunday at church, and this was very different than the American holiday of Thanksgiving. On Saturday members came to the church with their crops and decorated the church and altar with them. Sunday there was a special service to give thanks to God for the harvest from the fields and the harvest from heaven. The following week the small farmers kept busy plowing the fields preparing for next year. It was not a big celebration, and we did not have a big Thanksgiving meal, but that was not needed. It was nice to see how thankful people were for the crops from their fields.
Accompaniment and Mission Work
During the time that I have been in Slovakia I have been thinking about what it means to be a missionary, and I have realized that unpacking this word is not an easy task. The word missionary often has many bad connotations due to events in history. Many people think of missionaries as people going into the world preaching and forcing others to accept our ways. However, a proper understanding of a missionary is every Christian who responds to God’s call. Learning about the model of accompaniment during orientation has helped me understand what it means to be a missionary. Mission work is a discovery of God’s work in the world, and the restoration of community. A missionary is called to walk with others, share with others, and bring the stories of many people together with Jesus at the center.
The difficult part for me has been understanding how this is actually done in my day to day life here in Slovakia, because sometimes I do not understand why I am here or what I am doing here. Last week I visited a nursing home in Banska Bystricia and one of the ladies reminded me of the importance of the ministry of presence. She was talking to me, and I tried to tell her I didn’t speak Slovak very well, but she just kept talking and talking. So I just smiled and nodded my head, desperately trying to understand just a part of what she was saying. One of the workers came over and explained to her that I could not understand everything, because I did not know a lot of Slovak. The lady looked at the worker and said “yes, but she is listening”. Just being there and listening was all that this lady wanted and it did not matter to her that I couldn’t understand or speak very well. This was a reminder of how we often want to “do something” as a missionary; whether it be some type of physical work or preaching the Gospel. While this is helpful and important, sometimes just being there is what people need. Although my tasks here are not always clear cut and it can be frustrating I am trying to remember that I am here to walk with others and to discover how God is at work in Slovakia.
What’s Ahead…
For now I am continuing to teach English in Banska Bystricia, and visiting other schools in the area for English and religion lessons. In the village I am working with the pastor to help with the church and teaching Sunday school. This week I will be leading the Bible study, which should be exciting because it will be in Slovak! Although the social service center has not yet opened, we are still delivering lunches to the elderly in the village. I have enjoyed getting to know these people more, and I look forward to spending more time with them. The language is still a challenge and communication is often difficult and humorous. However, I think I am improving and I am excited to learn a lot more.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
“Let love of the brethren continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it” –Hebrews 13:1-2
“Bratská láska nech trvá. Nezabúdajte na pohostinnosť, lebo ňou niektorí- nevedomky- pohostili už anjelov” –Židom 13:1-2
Updates from Horná Mičiná, Slovakia
October was an exciting time in Horná Mičiná, because it was harvest time for the farmers (most of the people in the village are small farmers). The second Sunday of the month was Thanksgiving Sunday at church, and this was very different than the American holiday of Thanksgiving. On Saturday members came to the church with their crops and decorated the church and altar with them. Sunday there was a special service to give thanks to God for the harvest from the fields and the harvest from heaven. The following week the small farmers kept busy plowing the fields preparing for next year. It was not a big celebration, and we did not have a big Thanksgiving meal, but that was not needed. It was nice to see how thankful people were for the crops from their fields.
Accompaniment and Mission Work
During the time that I have been in Slovakia I have been thinking about what it means to be a missionary, and I have realized that unpacking this word is not an easy task. The word missionary often has many bad connotations due to events in history. Many people think of missionaries as people going into the world preaching and forcing others to accept our ways. However, a proper understanding of a missionary is every Christian who responds to God’s call. Learning about the model of accompaniment during orientation has helped me understand what it means to be a missionary. Mission work is a discovery of God’s work in the world, and the restoration of community. A missionary is called to walk with others, share with others, and bring the stories of many people together with Jesus at the center.
The difficult part for me has been understanding how this is actually done in my day to day life here in Slovakia, because sometimes I do not understand why I am here or what I am doing here. Last week I visited a nursing home in Banska Bystricia and one of the ladies reminded me of the importance of the ministry of presence. She was talking to me, and I tried to tell her I didn’t speak Slovak very well, but she just kept talking and talking. So I just smiled and nodded my head, desperately trying to understand just a part of what she was saying. One of the workers came over and explained to her that I could not understand everything, because I did not know a lot of Slovak. The lady looked at the worker and said “yes, but she is listening”. Just being there and listening was all that this lady wanted and it did not matter to her that I couldn’t understand or speak very well. This was a reminder of how we often want to “do something” as a missionary; whether it be some type of physical work or preaching the Gospel. While this is helpful and important, sometimes just being there is what people need. Although my tasks here are not always clear cut and it can be frustrating I am trying to remember that I am here to walk with others and to discover how God is at work in Slovakia.
What’s Ahead…
For now I am continuing to teach English in Banska Bystricia, and visiting other schools in the area for English and religion lessons. In the village I am working with the pastor to help with the church and teaching Sunday school. This week I will be leading the Bible study, which should be exciting because it will be in Slovak! Although the social service center has not yet opened, we are still delivering lunches to the elderly in the village. I have enjoyed getting to know these people more, and I look forward to spending more time with them. The language is still a challenge and communication is often difficult and humorous. However, I think I am improving and I am excited to learn a lot more.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
“Let love of the brethren continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it” –Hebrews 13:1-2
“Bratská láska nech trvá. Nezabúdajte na pohostinnosť, lebo ňou niektorí- nevedomky- pohostili už anjelov” –Židom 13:1-2
October Newsletter - Laura in India
"Till We Meet Again"
Two months have passed and I have found myself with good friends.
They provide a sense of acceptance I have been longing for. I have
depended heavily on their companionship as they have explained Indian
culture, answered countless questions I am puzzled with, and have been
my loyal translators and tutors. Their patience and understanding is
overwhelming, and although I came with a mission to serve, I am
humbled daily by these friends' willingness to befriend and assist me.
Like any friends, I have grown attached to our daily routines, our
bantering, our conversations.
Now, a few of these dear ones have found their time at Mandiram has
come to a close. They must go. I am not good at goodbyes. Even
here.
ICCA
One resident appachen, Icca, was always one to include me on
adventures. Whether to the hospital where I would watch as he
spoon-fed his fellow man dinner, as I held the patient upright. Or
we'd head to the banana plants above Mandiram to gather the fruit for
the next meals' dish. Icca taught me the juice from the plant stains
clothes. Something was lost in translation, as I learned the hard
way. Or he'd gather tapioca and help me prepare the popular dish in
Mandiram's kitchen. Icca was ready to arrange my marriage to a Kerala
man. "You stay here. In Kerala," he'd often say. But, as Icca sat
on the bus the other morning, I waved goodbye, wondering if I'd see
him again.
LIJI
Most of my friends are three, four times my age, so it wasn't a
surprise that I latched onto Liji quickly. She is the girls' resident
tutor, and as a recent college graduate, too, we'd often joke about
our indecisiveness regarding future plans. We would spend hours
talking, laughing and sitting on the front steps of the girls' home.
Liji showed me the ways around town, the bus system, and how to
eradicate my head of lice. She has been sure to include me on the
programs of the girls, allowing me to a part of their energy and love.
And, naturally, she taught me the ways of the mobile phone: how to
send a missed call, how to recharge the minutes, and the wonders of
texting. But, the final plans have been made, and we were informed
this past week of Liji's wedding on November 15. She will be moving
to live with her new family.
BINU & ALEX
There were four wardens when I arrived. Jijo and Soji are here for a
year, as a pre-requisite for seminary. Binu and Alex were here for
two months, as a part of their theological study. I, again, latched
myself onto these four and their friendship, depending on them to help
translate jokes made at the breakfast table, to inform me of recent
political matters, and to include me on events that made me feel
useful and needed. And, although a girl, I always felt a part of the
warden posse, the man clan. I wrote Binu and Alex each a card the day
their service was completed. On it, I included the lyrics from a hymn
my sister gave me as I left home, "God be with you till we meet
Again." We had a prayer service for Alex and Binu when they departed.
When it came time for Jijo to pray, he began singing in Malayalam.
After a few measures, my eyes began to water. I recognized the tune.
Jijo was singing the same hymn I had copied.
Though many good friends still remain, the reality of the finitude of
our time at Mandiram, in Kerala, in India, has hit. Though I am
growing attached to this home, these people, a time will come where
goodbye will be inevitable.
KATHERINE
Yet, nothing prepared me for the phone call this last week. My dear
roommate called with the news of Katherine Olson. She was gone. But,
how can that be? KO is one of a kind, with a spirit of boundless
energy. Her red, bouncy hair attributed that. Our summer at Flathead
together is one I cherish for many reasons. One: KO and her
styrophoam tube. Mornings in the program office were sure to have KO
doing her physical therapy, rolling and tumbling all over the floor on
that cylinder. Oh, how we'd laugh. And, now, she is gone. I am
confused and shocked, frustrated and bewildered to be mourning here,
and not with fellow friends and family. Why this? Why KO?
Now, the reality of our finitude on Earth is beginning to hit.
Goodbyes seem inevitable.
"God be with you till we meet again.
By good counsels guide, uphold you,
With a shepherd's care enfold you,
God be with you till we meet again.
Till we meet, till we meet.
Till we meet, at Jesus' feet.
Till we meet, till we meet.
God be with you till we meet again."
I am hoping that the promise of reunion is stronger than the sorrow of goodbye.
Two months have passed and I have found myself with good friends.
They provide a sense of acceptance I have been longing for. I have
depended heavily on their companionship as they have explained Indian
culture, answered countless questions I am puzzled with, and have been
my loyal translators and tutors. Their patience and understanding is
overwhelming, and although I came with a mission to serve, I am
humbled daily by these friends' willingness to befriend and assist me.
Like any friends, I have grown attached to our daily routines, our
bantering, our conversations.
Now, a few of these dear ones have found their time at Mandiram has
come to a close. They must go. I am not good at goodbyes. Even
here.
ICCA
One resident appachen, Icca, was always one to include me on
adventures. Whether to the hospital where I would watch as he
spoon-fed his fellow man dinner, as I held the patient upright. Or
we'd head to the banana plants above Mandiram to gather the fruit for
the next meals' dish. Icca taught me the juice from the plant stains
clothes. Something was lost in translation, as I learned the hard
way. Or he'd gather tapioca and help me prepare the popular dish in
Mandiram's kitchen. Icca was ready to arrange my marriage to a Kerala
man. "You stay here. In Kerala," he'd often say. But, as Icca sat
on the bus the other morning, I waved goodbye, wondering if I'd see
him again.
LIJI
Most of my friends are three, four times my age, so it wasn't a
surprise that I latched onto Liji quickly. She is the girls' resident
tutor, and as a recent college graduate, too, we'd often joke about
our indecisiveness regarding future plans. We would spend hours
talking, laughing and sitting on the front steps of the girls' home.
Liji showed me the ways around town, the bus system, and how to
eradicate my head of lice. She has been sure to include me on the
programs of the girls, allowing me to a part of their energy and love.
And, naturally, she taught me the ways of the mobile phone: how to
send a missed call, how to recharge the minutes, and the wonders of
texting. But, the final plans have been made, and we were informed
this past week of Liji's wedding on November 15. She will be moving
to live with her new family.
BINU & ALEX
There were four wardens when I arrived. Jijo and Soji are here for a
year, as a pre-requisite for seminary. Binu and Alex were here for
two months, as a part of their theological study. I, again, latched
myself onto these four and their friendship, depending on them to help
translate jokes made at the breakfast table, to inform me of recent
political matters, and to include me on events that made me feel
useful and needed. And, although a girl, I always felt a part of the
warden posse, the man clan. I wrote Binu and Alex each a card the day
their service was completed. On it, I included the lyrics from a hymn
my sister gave me as I left home, "God be with you till we meet
Again." We had a prayer service for Alex and Binu when they departed.
When it came time for Jijo to pray, he began singing in Malayalam.
After a few measures, my eyes began to water. I recognized the tune.
Jijo was singing the same hymn I had copied.
Though many good friends still remain, the reality of the finitude of
our time at Mandiram, in Kerala, in India, has hit. Though I am
growing attached to this home, these people, a time will come where
goodbye will be inevitable.
KATHERINE
Yet, nothing prepared me for the phone call this last week. My dear
roommate called with the news of Katherine Olson. She was gone. But,
how can that be? KO is one of a kind, with a spirit of boundless
energy. Her red, bouncy hair attributed that. Our summer at Flathead
together is one I cherish for many reasons. One: KO and her
styrophoam tube. Mornings in the program office were sure to have KO
doing her physical therapy, rolling and tumbling all over the floor on
that cylinder. Oh, how we'd laugh. And, now, she is gone. I am
confused and shocked, frustrated and bewildered to be mourning here,
and not with fellow friends and family. Why this? Why KO?
Now, the reality of our finitude on Earth is beginning to hit.
Goodbyes seem inevitable.
"God be with you till we meet again.
By good counsels guide, uphold you,
With a shepherd's care enfold you,
God be with you till we meet again.
Till we meet, till we meet.
Till we meet, at Jesus' feet.
Till we meet, till we meet.
God be with you till we meet again."
I am hoping that the promise of reunion is stronger than the sorrow of goodbye.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
October Newsletter - Sarah in Mexico
Sarah's Newsletter
October, 2007
The call to live weak…
Dear friends,
I come to write this October newsletter feeling enthused and a bit overwhelmed by the invitation to share this experience and all that it makes me learn, discover, see, and believe. My life here in Mexico is difficult and uncomfortable, but it is also filled with abundant grace, life, gratitude, and love. Every day reveals new complexities and challenges; my mind perpetually spins with questions and ideas; sometimes I’m not sure where or who I am. Yet what a life! I’m energized by the persistent challenges and discoveries and know this year will bring learning unlike any other. Enjoy reading the following snippets of my month and thanks for joining me on the journey!
“True servants depend on those whom they serve.”
-Henri Nouwen, ¡Gracias!
In my last newsletter, I wrote about how crazy, messy, out-of-control this life in Mexico feels. There continue to be waves of torrential downpour, but I feel as though I am moving into places of greater understanding and gratitude each day. One of the most difficult and powerful experiences of the past few months has been that of letting go…
I come from a reality in which I carried a lot of control—I planned my days, I knew how to get from one place to another, I could express myself accurately and quickly, I saw accomplishment and felt productive, I decided what and when I would eat, etc. I was used to feeling confident, prepared, secure. Well, nothing like moving to a new country for a year to toss one out of that rhythm! I’ve been led to a call and culture that pushes me to live a much slower, uncontrolled, vulnerable life. It feels a bit like I took a giant step backwards and am living the life of a toddler again. I jump in the car without any idea where we’re going, I don’t understand things the first time around, I need step-by-step instructions at work, I have to do things I know I won’t be automatically gifted at, I rarely know the plan for the day (I’m convinced that’s a combination of there rarely being a plan and my lack of understanding!), and sometimes I can’t even figure out how to flush the toilet.
Living in a foreign land pushes me to recognize my vulnerability and need for others in a much more tangible way. I see, several times a day, the way in which my life depends on the fruits of the earth and the labor and love of others. My host mother provides wonderful meals, a comfortable home, and good conversation. The ruta (bus) and taxi drivers get me to my destinations safely. Strangers on the street give me a hand when I have no idea if I’m supposed to walk up, down, or turn around. My co-workers graciously point out cultural norms that I ignore or misunderstand, and keep a good sense of humor when I mess up my words. The women in Cuentepec fill me with food and incredible stories of indigenous life. When I eat tortillas, I can’t help but be mindful of the campesinos I see in the country, hauling bushel after bushel of corn from the field. And I am overwhelmed by gifts of time and invitation that fulfill my longing for companionship and relationship.
To live in greater awareness of the interconnectedness of life washes me with deep humility and gratitude. It allows me to see the way in which humanity’s richest value lies far beyond individual accomplishment. I feel loved not for what I do or know, but for who I am. My weakness and vulnerability help me realize that my intelligence and skills are probably not the most valuable gifts I can offer my friends in Mexico. Rather, I feel called to empty myself, to live into my brokenness, and to receive with open hands all they have to offer and teach me. Henri Nouwen articulates this call so well:
“The great paradox of ministry, therefore, is that we minister above all with our weakness, a weakness that invites us to receive from those to whom we go. The more in touch we are with our own need for healing and salvation, the more open we are to receive in gratitude what others have to offer us. The true skill of ministry is to help fearful and often oppressed men and women become aware of their own gifts, by receiving them in gratitude. In that sense, ministry becomes the skill of active dependency: willing to be dependent on what others have to give but often do not realize they have…True servants, then, depend on those whom they serve.” (¡Gracias!)
We live under a definition of giving and serving that would most likely see me as the one who has more to teach and give, but I can’t get through one day without being keenly aware of all the gifts I receive from others. It is my prayer that my gratitude and dependence may in some way help my Mexican brothers and sisters discover in themselves great worth, purpose, and gift. By accepting a meal, craft, or conversation, I hope to liberate my friends from the bonds that have prevented them from giving their gifts to others. Some days it takes much intentionality and patience to let go of the desire to be in control or the belief that my way is better; other times it is so apparent I could not live as fully without their love and generosity. It’s becoming clearer every day that I give more by receiving, and I serve most by allowing others to serve me.
On a lighter note…
My favorite cultural experience…
A few weeks ago, Heidi (our country coordinator), Maria Luisa (the woman I accompany to the indigenous communities), Jenn, Katie (2 other YAGM volunteers), and myself went to Cuentepec to take part in the festival of their patron saint, San Miguel. This is one of the most important days of the year for this community—so important that, even when we tried to schedule a meeting 10 days prior, the women told us it was absolutely out of the question because “we have to start getting ready for the fiesta!” (It goes without saying that Mexicans really know how to celebrate!) The festival day was filled with great hospitality, fellowship, and feasting! We went to four different homes and, though these families had never met most of us, they welcomed us as if we were long-time friends. As soon as we walked in the door, they jumped to their feet, greeted us warmly, set up tables, found chairs from every corner of the yard or gave up their own if there weren’t enough, and immediately served us healthy portions of tortillas, rice, and chicken molé (the quintessential Mexican sauce made from chilies, herbs, spices, and chocolate). It was incredible. Their generosity and joy were so abundant and genuine. I just love the way fiestas work here…there are no invitation lists, RSVPs, or starting and ending times; rather, everyone prepares enough to feed the town and families simply go from home to home, taking turns serving and being served. How beautiful!
The most bizarre foods I’ve eaten…
Pico de gallo (what we would call “fresh salsa”) and mango con chile ice cream
Pickled cactus
Roasted jumiles (small, black insects that look a bit like grasshoppers—Mexicans rave about their protein content and seem rather undisturbed by the texture…)
*I think one of the most exciting parts of a cross-cultural experience is trying new foods, and mostly the food is very, very good. But I can already say there are some culinary dishes I hope to take home with me, and others I will have no problem leaving behind!
Some words just don’t translate very well…
Mostly, my Spanish is coming along really well. I love the challenge of learning another language and am finding it to be an excellent tool in learning not to take myself too seriously! Here are a few of my favorites…
Mexicans love the word ya…I feel like they use it in nearly every sentence. In my language classes, I learned this word to mean “already,” but I felt like that meaning wasn’t working in every context that I heard it used. I looked it up in my dictionary, and this is the definition I found: already, no longer, right now, soon, in a while. Well that was sure helpful! No wonder I’ve been confused!
I also enjoy noting the way Mexicans address others. Some phrases and names are so different than our customs in the U.S.! For example, it’s very common for teachers to refer to their students as hijo/hija and amor, which mean “son/daughter” and “love/dear.” When locals talk to me, they always call me güera, a name used to refer to people with light hair. My blonde hair has never drawn so much attention in my life! When Mexicans pass each other in the street, but aren’t stopping to talk to each other, they say “goodbye” instead of “hello.” It makes sense, I suppose, but it catches me off guard when I say “Hola” to someone and the immediate response is “Adios!” And this is my favorite…all the time, I hear people greet others—especially important women in their lives like mothers, girlfriends, or wives—by saying, “Buenos días, gordita.” This essentially translates, “Good morning, fat lady.” It still startles me every time I hear it, but for Mexicans, it’s simply another greeting and in no way is it offensive. Oh how I love it here!
Laughter, learning, and love abound here in Cuernavaca, Mexico! I am so grateful for your support as I continue to live into my weaknesses and discover what this call to serve is all about. Know that your friendship, love, prayers and encouragement are deeply valued.
Peace and love to all,
Sarah
October, 2007
The call to live weak…
Dear friends,
I come to write this October newsletter feeling enthused and a bit overwhelmed by the invitation to share this experience and all that it makes me learn, discover, see, and believe. My life here in Mexico is difficult and uncomfortable, but it is also filled with abundant grace, life, gratitude, and love. Every day reveals new complexities and challenges; my mind perpetually spins with questions and ideas; sometimes I’m not sure where or who I am. Yet what a life! I’m energized by the persistent challenges and discoveries and know this year will bring learning unlike any other. Enjoy reading the following snippets of my month and thanks for joining me on the journey!
“True servants depend on those whom they serve.”
-Henri Nouwen, ¡Gracias!
In my last newsletter, I wrote about how crazy, messy, out-of-control this life in Mexico feels. There continue to be waves of torrential downpour, but I feel as though I am moving into places of greater understanding and gratitude each day. One of the most difficult and powerful experiences of the past few months has been that of letting go…
I come from a reality in which I carried a lot of control—I planned my days, I knew how to get from one place to another, I could express myself accurately and quickly, I saw accomplishment and felt productive, I decided what and when I would eat, etc. I was used to feeling confident, prepared, secure. Well, nothing like moving to a new country for a year to toss one out of that rhythm! I’ve been led to a call and culture that pushes me to live a much slower, uncontrolled, vulnerable life. It feels a bit like I took a giant step backwards and am living the life of a toddler again. I jump in the car without any idea where we’re going, I don’t understand things the first time around, I need step-by-step instructions at work, I have to do things I know I won’t be automatically gifted at, I rarely know the plan for the day (I’m convinced that’s a combination of there rarely being a plan and my lack of understanding!), and sometimes I can’t even figure out how to flush the toilet.
Living in a foreign land pushes me to recognize my vulnerability and need for others in a much more tangible way. I see, several times a day, the way in which my life depends on the fruits of the earth and the labor and love of others. My host mother provides wonderful meals, a comfortable home, and good conversation. The ruta (bus) and taxi drivers get me to my destinations safely. Strangers on the street give me a hand when I have no idea if I’m supposed to walk up, down, or turn around. My co-workers graciously point out cultural norms that I ignore or misunderstand, and keep a good sense of humor when I mess up my words. The women in Cuentepec fill me with food and incredible stories of indigenous life. When I eat tortillas, I can’t help but be mindful of the campesinos I see in the country, hauling bushel after bushel of corn from the field. And I am overwhelmed by gifts of time and invitation that fulfill my longing for companionship and relationship.
To live in greater awareness of the interconnectedness of life washes me with deep humility and gratitude. It allows me to see the way in which humanity’s richest value lies far beyond individual accomplishment. I feel loved not for what I do or know, but for who I am. My weakness and vulnerability help me realize that my intelligence and skills are probably not the most valuable gifts I can offer my friends in Mexico. Rather, I feel called to empty myself, to live into my brokenness, and to receive with open hands all they have to offer and teach me. Henri Nouwen articulates this call so well:
“The great paradox of ministry, therefore, is that we minister above all with our weakness, a weakness that invites us to receive from those to whom we go. The more in touch we are with our own need for healing and salvation, the more open we are to receive in gratitude what others have to offer us. The true skill of ministry is to help fearful and often oppressed men and women become aware of their own gifts, by receiving them in gratitude. In that sense, ministry becomes the skill of active dependency: willing to be dependent on what others have to give but often do not realize they have…True servants, then, depend on those whom they serve.” (¡Gracias!)
We live under a definition of giving and serving that would most likely see me as the one who has more to teach and give, but I can’t get through one day without being keenly aware of all the gifts I receive from others. It is my prayer that my gratitude and dependence may in some way help my Mexican brothers and sisters discover in themselves great worth, purpose, and gift. By accepting a meal, craft, or conversation, I hope to liberate my friends from the bonds that have prevented them from giving their gifts to others. Some days it takes much intentionality and patience to let go of the desire to be in control or the belief that my way is better; other times it is so apparent I could not live as fully without their love and generosity. It’s becoming clearer every day that I give more by receiving, and I serve most by allowing others to serve me.
On a lighter note…
My favorite cultural experience…
A few weeks ago, Heidi (our country coordinator), Maria Luisa (the woman I accompany to the indigenous communities), Jenn, Katie (2 other YAGM volunteers), and myself went to Cuentepec to take part in the festival of their patron saint, San Miguel. This is one of the most important days of the year for this community—so important that, even when we tried to schedule a meeting 10 days prior, the women told us it was absolutely out of the question because “we have to start getting ready for the fiesta!” (It goes without saying that Mexicans really know how to celebrate!) The festival day was filled with great hospitality, fellowship, and feasting! We went to four different homes and, though these families had never met most of us, they welcomed us as if we were long-time friends. As soon as we walked in the door, they jumped to their feet, greeted us warmly, set up tables, found chairs from every corner of the yard or gave up their own if there weren’t enough, and immediately served us healthy portions of tortillas, rice, and chicken molé (the quintessential Mexican sauce made from chilies, herbs, spices, and chocolate). It was incredible. Their generosity and joy were so abundant and genuine. I just love the way fiestas work here…there are no invitation lists, RSVPs, or starting and ending times; rather, everyone prepares enough to feed the town and families simply go from home to home, taking turns serving and being served. How beautiful!
The most bizarre foods I’ve eaten…
Pico de gallo (what we would call “fresh salsa”) and mango con chile ice cream
Pickled cactus
Roasted jumiles (small, black insects that look a bit like grasshoppers—Mexicans rave about their protein content and seem rather undisturbed by the texture…)
*I think one of the most exciting parts of a cross-cultural experience is trying new foods, and mostly the food is very, very good. But I can already say there are some culinary dishes I hope to take home with me, and others I will have no problem leaving behind!
Some words just don’t translate very well…
Mostly, my Spanish is coming along really well. I love the challenge of learning another language and am finding it to be an excellent tool in learning not to take myself too seriously! Here are a few of my favorites…
Mexicans love the word ya…I feel like they use it in nearly every sentence. In my language classes, I learned this word to mean “already,” but I felt like that meaning wasn’t working in every context that I heard it used. I looked it up in my dictionary, and this is the definition I found: already, no longer, right now, soon, in a while. Well that was sure helpful! No wonder I’ve been confused!
I also enjoy noting the way Mexicans address others. Some phrases and names are so different than our customs in the U.S.! For example, it’s very common for teachers to refer to their students as hijo/hija and amor, which mean “son/daughter” and “love/dear.” When locals talk to me, they always call me güera, a name used to refer to people with light hair. My blonde hair has never drawn so much attention in my life! When Mexicans pass each other in the street, but aren’t stopping to talk to each other, they say “goodbye” instead of “hello.” It makes sense, I suppose, but it catches me off guard when I say “Hola” to someone and the immediate response is “Adios!” And this is my favorite…all the time, I hear people greet others—especially important women in their lives like mothers, girlfriends, or wives—by saying, “Buenos días, gordita.” This essentially translates, “Good morning, fat lady.” It still startles me every time I hear it, but for Mexicans, it’s simply another greeting and in no way is it offensive. Oh how I love it here!
Laughter, learning, and love abound here in Cuernavaca, Mexico! I am so grateful for your support as I continue to live into my weaknesses and discover what this call to serve is all about. Know that your friendship, love, prayers and encouragement are deeply valued.
Peace and love to all,
Sarah
Acting 4 England October Newsletter - Kristin in the UK
Acting 4 England
Volume I Issue 2
October
Good Morning Act 4!
As I was on my way to work one day I was not in the best of moods. While stopped at a traffic light I heard a knock. I looked around and in the car next to me was this little girl in a red jumper with pigtails (about 5 years old) waving to me. Her brother saw me too, got really excited and started waving. I thought to myself "Have I seen these kids before?" In the drivers seat sat the mother who just smiled at me and then they went on their way. I realized later that the two children have seen me from an assembly at their school.
Since working with Act 4 in September, I have worked with over 4,000 children in 25 different schools doing assemblies and R Rights programs. When my supervisor warned me that children would start to recognize me in town I thought "Ha– yea right!" I did not take into account that every time I walk in Potters Bar on a Saturday a child normally says to me "Hey– you came to my school with Act 4!"
While things get really busy in the office and sometimes even a bit stressful, entering primary schools like Pope Paul, Cuffley and Little Heath remind me how exciting my job is– to share a message and spend time with children. When we welcome the children to assembly each day, the children always say in unison: "Good Morning Act 4, Good Morning Everyone!" Every time those words are spoken, it truly makes my day!
About Potters Bar
Potters Bar is located in the shire county of Hertfordshire, England. With a population of around 22,000, Potters Bar is located roughly 20 miles directly north of central London.
The first reference to Potters Bar was "Potterbare" in 1387. There are many different origins of the town name. Some believe the word "Potters" is taken from evidence of Roman pottery that was thought to have been located here. Others think the name came from the family Pottere who lived in South Mimms parish, a small neighborhood outside of Potters Bar.
The explanation for the "Bar" element is the gate into Enfield Chase, an area of London which was once covered by woodland and used as a royal deer park.
Meet Sam Frankel: Director of Act 4
Why did you start Act 4?
I always wanted to do something with children. I have done related work and the idea of using past experiences to teach Christian values was really exciting for me.
What is your favorite part of the job?
For me, it is such a privilege to work with so many children and see how it impacts their lives. It is really meaningful and powerful. I also enjoy the creative aspect of Act 4.
How do you see God working in your daily life?
God has placed on my heart a desire to share His message in a fun and enthusiastic way. He's opened up so many opportunities for us to do His work.
When you're not working, what do you enjoy doing?
Spending time with my wife Moria and son Ruari is really important to me. I also love being outside, away from others, doing something athletic and active.
Children's Rights and Responsibilities
Last year, Act 4 led 32 session of R Rights in three different schools. The Year 6 classes gain lots out of this program as it not only gives children a set of knowledge and skills but also helps them to bond as classes and year groups.
This term Act 4 is running R Rights at Cuffley Primary School. During these sessions, children campaign on heavy issues such as citizenship, child labor, poverty & hunger, violence & war, homes & refugees, education and health.
These interactive sessions allow children to create poems, write plays and hear real life stories about children in other countries who face these problems. Here is a poem written by a Year 6 Cuffley student about war and violence:
"Too much young blood going to waste
Too many wars for children to face
300 kids all holding a gun
When they should be having fun!
Taken from their families in a nasty way
Fighting in wars day after day
They need our help to get free
To return to their happy family."
Year 6 Cuffley Student
My Sense of England
I saw an amazing view of Edinburgh with my family and Anna B. Lucas from King Arthur's Seat in Scotland. I heard a square dance caller calling out the Virginia Reel at the Christ Church Barn Dance in Potters Bar. I smelled beautiful flowers at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, England. Chatsworth House represented Pemberley, Mr. Darcy's home, in the recent adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I tasted a really good scone with homemade butter and jam at a bakery in London. I touched lovely tartan scarf's in shops on The Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Divided By A Common Language
New words that I learned this month:
Crisps: Chips
Chips: Fries
Lift: Elevator
Fortnight: Two weeks
Chemist: Pharmacist
Surgery: Doctor's Office
Lollipop Man: Crossing Man
--
Cheers!
Kristin
Volume I Issue 2
October
Good Morning Act 4!
As I was on my way to work one day I was not in the best of moods. While stopped at a traffic light I heard a knock. I looked around and in the car next to me was this little girl in a red jumper with pigtails (about 5 years old) waving to me. Her brother saw me too, got really excited and started waving. I thought to myself "Have I seen these kids before?" In the drivers seat sat the mother who just smiled at me and then they went on their way. I realized later that the two children have seen me from an assembly at their school.
Since working with Act 4 in September, I have worked with over 4,000 children in 25 different schools doing assemblies and R Rights programs. When my supervisor warned me that children would start to recognize me in town I thought "Ha– yea right!" I did not take into account that every time I walk in Potters Bar on a Saturday a child normally says to me "Hey– you came to my school with Act 4!"
While things get really busy in the office and sometimes even a bit stressful, entering primary schools like Pope Paul, Cuffley and Little Heath remind me how exciting my job is– to share a message and spend time with children. When we welcome the children to assembly each day, the children always say in unison: "Good Morning Act 4, Good Morning Everyone!" Every time those words are spoken, it truly makes my day!
About Potters Bar
Potters Bar is located in the shire county of Hertfordshire, England. With a population of around 22,000, Potters Bar is located roughly 20 miles directly north of central London.
The first reference to Potters Bar was "Potterbare" in 1387. There are many different origins of the town name. Some believe the word "Potters" is taken from evidence of Roman pottery that was thought to have been located here. Others think the name came from the family Pottere who lived in South Mimms parish, a small neighborhood outside of Potters Bar.
The explanation for the "Bar" element is the gate into Enfield Chase, an area of London which was once covered by woodland and used as a royal deer park.
Meet Sam Frankel: Director of Act 4
Why did you start Act 4?
I always wanted to do something with children. I have done related work and the idea of using past experiences to teach Christian values was really exciting for me.
What is your favorite part of the job?
For me, it is such a privilege to work with so many children and see how it impacts their lives. It is really meaningful and powerful. I also enjoy the creative aspect of Act 4.
How do you see God working in your daily life?
God has placed on my heart a desire to share His message in a fun and enthusiastic way. He's opened up so many opportunities for us to do His work.
When you're not working, what do you enjoy doing?
Spending time with my wife Moria and son Ruari is really important to me. I also love being outside, away from others, doing something athletic and active.
Children's Rights and Responsibilities
Last year, Act 4 led 32 session of R Rights in three different schools. The Year 6 classes gain lots out of this program as it not only gives children a set of knowledge and skills but also helps them to bond as classes and year groups.
This term Act 4 is running R Rights at Cuffley Primary School. During these sessions, children campaign on heavy issues such as citizenship, child labor, poverty & hunger, violence & war, homes & refugees, education and health.
These interactive sessions allow children to create poems, write plays and hear real life stories about children in other countries who face these problems. Here is a poem written by a Year 6 Cuffley student about war and violence:
"Too much young blood going to waste
Too many wars for children to face
300 kids all holding a gun
When they should be having fun!
Taken from their families in a nasty way
Fighting in wars day after day
They need our help to get free
To return to their happy family."
Year 6 Cuffley Student
My Sense of England
I saw an amazing view of Edinburgh with my family and Anna B. Lucas from King Arthur's Seat in Scotland. I heard a square dance caller calling out the Virginia Reel at the Christ Church Barn Dance in Potters Bar. I smelled beautiful flowers at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, England. Chatsworth House represented Pemberley, Mr. Darcy's home, in the recent adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I tasted a really good scone with homemade butter and jam at a bakery in London. I touched lovely tartan scarf's in shops on The Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Divided By A Common Language
New words that I learned this month:
Crisps: Chips
Chips: Fries
Lift: Elevator
Fortnight: Two weeks
Chemist: Pharmacist
Surgery: Doctor's Office
Lollipop Man: Crossing Man
--
Cheers!
Kristin
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