The Strike (Kenya)

The Strike

"May the misery of your neighbor

not keep you awake at night" 

It has been three weeks since I got here, but it really feels like an eternity; this culture is just amazing, the area is fantastic, and the Umoja project makes me feel that I really have a purpose, in a way that I have never felt before. 

The phrase above is something that Pastor John, one of the Umoja staff, shared with me when he was explaining about how people behaved around here: sometimes they did not really care about their fellow man. But he also shared that in the past few years, thanks to Umoja, that way of thinking was changing. Eighteen schools working together, congregational leaders coming together, different denominations uniting to help the orphans and vulnerable children. I wonder if reading this will insight you to behave as this community did before or if the suffering of your neighbor may keep you awake at night...

Umoja project is sponsoring over 360 children (primary, secondary, and university students) which includes school fees, uniforms, blankets, kerosene, hygiene products, etc. Plus, they are feeding 3,000 students everyday! AMAZING, HUH??

So, I started on the home visits, in the company of the wonderful Pastor John and we spent hours in the students' homes: getting to know their families a little bit, their challenges and struggles, and most importantly we got to pray for them. We do not have money to hand out, but what we do have, we give and it is our prayers and our time; families really appreciate that. Even though they have no food in the house, that doesn't stop them from seeing God's love for them through our visit. Taking that time and care is of utmost value to them. But we are faced with heart-breaking realities too: like this grandma who has three grandchildren and she can not take care of them. Actually, they are taking care of her and she said to me, "Please take my grandchildren with you and offer them a future..." I was silent and thought, "I know that sometimes it may seem like it is not enough, but by helping them with school, Umoja is giving them the possibility of a future". Thank goodness, Pastor John was there to save me because I had no idea what to say!... Wow, I am learning so much from this experience. I don't believe there is any seminary in the world that can prepare you for something like this!

Now, the difficult thing is that the schools are on strike, which I totally understand and support since the government is not paying fair wages nor are they being true to past promises. So the schools remain closed and schools closed means no lunch program. Without the lunch program, the children do not eat. Take a moment to truly understand the depth of this statement: the biggest problem with this is that, for many children, the meal that they have at school is the ONLY MEAL that they have in a day... So schools being closed is no longer about education alone, it becomes a much BIGGER ISSUE!

The Umoja staff got together and came up with some ideas. Hopefully the strike will end soon, but if not, one idea is for the church congregations to start offering a daily meal for the children in the community. Pastor John and I are still visiting students with the help of some teachers, but we cannot do more than five or six visits per day. Distances are quite long between the schools and some of the children's houses. We asked the schools to provide us with maize and beans to at least take food to some of the families. Some of the schools were responsive, others were not. We are working with the latter group to "help them" change their minds, since the food supply that each school has is a provision of Umoja Project.

We visited several people yesterday and there was a disabled grandmother who was barely able to walk and her granddaughter (9) who is HIV positive. This little girl is so beautiful, you would not believe it, I still have the image of her smile locked in my brain and on my heart. Her grandmother was ready to bow down before us in gratitude when she saw the food we brought. Obviously, we would not allow her to do that and then she started singing a song of praise to the Lord for the blessing... CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? She didn't have food, yet she was not angry with God because of that, she was praising Him! That only reminds me of all the stupid reasons we use to be angry with God and to fight (as Christians) with each other, when we could be using our time to help people like this. What an example of great faith this grandmother showed.

To support a student here, it is only $35/month. If you calculate it out, it's not much: that could be just one night a month that you don't eat dinner out. Without that dinner out once a month, we can change the whole life course of a little one here. What kind of neighbor are we going to be?

From the most wonderful place in the world....

Fede

Hello from Uganda!!

Greetings from Uganda!!


It has been just over a month since Regina and I arrived in Uganda!
It’s amazing how fast the time has gone! We are both enjoying our time
here and have a lot to share with you all!

First, I will start with what exactly it is we are doing here!

While in Uganda, we are staying at Kasana Cathedral Parish in Luweero,
which is about an hour and a half north of Kampala, the capital city.
We are housed at the parish along with a resident seminarian, Br.
Christopher, and three priests, Fr. Joe (field supervisor), Fr.
Matthias, and Fr. Ambrose. We share meals together with them and have
enjoyed many conversations filled with laughter while in their
presence. We are very well taken care of here and always feel safe.
They are very protective of us and genuinely care about how we are
doing.

Our main responsibility while in Uganda is to teach at the parish-run
schools. We teach Music, Art, and PE at St. Jude Primary School
(elementary school); we also teach Bible and English at St. Cyprian
College (high school). At St. Jude we teach P1-P4 (equivalent to
Kindergarten-4th grade and at St. Cyprian we teach Senior 1
(equivalent to 8th-9th grade). We have a lot of fun with the kids and
enjoy spending time with them. I love walking into the classroom and
seeing the excitement on their faces. They are eager to learn and
eager to spend time with us “mzungus” (Luganda for “whites”—this has a
very positive connotation).

Here are some things we have learned about the schools in Uganda
through our conversations with some of the teachers and
administrators:
      • St. Jude is considered a private school; however, it receives
a government grant. Most of the schools do. There are public schools
which are started by individuals or the government and then run
completely by the government.
      • The government has a policy which provides 1 teacher for every
50 students. St. Jude has a nursery, which does not receive any
government funding; the government only funds schools beginning at P1.
So, the school itself pays for the staff it takes to watch and educate
those children.
      • Typically children start P1 at the age of 6; however, some
parents make arguments for their children to start at age 4 or 5. This
usually happens because the parents work and cannot be with their
children until they reach the age of 6. So they either enroll them in
the nursery or hire a private tutor so they can start P1 early.
      • Primary school is P1-P7; secondary school is Senior 1-Senior
6. They advance every year, like our schools. They do not have
attendance policies here. This is mainly due to a war that was fought
with the local government in the 1980’s that affected Luweero greatly.
They are still recovering from that, so they do not see it fair to
punish a child if they miss a lot of school.
      • We asked about a teacher’s salary in comparison to other jobs.
He told us that teachers make the least amount of money. Last year
they went on strike and the government raised the salary 15%. The
current salary of teachers is 300,000 shillings/month; at the current
exchange rate that is about $125/month. The cost of living here is
high. I’ve actually been surprised that some things have been as
expensive as they are.
      • The likely drop out age is after Primary School; Secondary
School is easily 15x the amount of Primary School. If they enroll in
Secondary School, it is likely they won’t make it past Senior 4
(equivalent to 10th or 11th grade in the states) due to higher fees.
      • We have taken the opportunity to have a few meals at the
school. For breakfast they serve porridge and only the children who
pay for it eat it; the rest of the children go all day without an
empty stomach. For lunch they have what is called “posho” (not sure I
have it spelled right…) at the school with some of the teachers. It is
corn flour boiled in water until it is VERY thick and then beans are
poured over it. Here they mix beans with some greens (looked like
turnip greens) and pour it over. But not all schools have a garden
like St. Jude does. This is lunch for both the teachers and the
students at all schools nation wide, including the universities
(colleges). I can’t imagine some of the reactions undergraduate
students would have if they had to eat it every day. I actually
enjoyed it; the posho was missing some salt but it was a welcomed
difference from the traditional “matoke” (mashed and steamed bananas)
we usually get at every meal!


We’ve also learned a bit about the government. The government runs
EVERYTHING. Last week the budget was set for the 2013-2014 year. About
70% of their budget goes to defense (military). 13% is said to go to
the schools, but Charles told us that, in actuality, it will be more
like 2% that the schools receive.


On Sundays we have the opportunity to worship either at Kasana
Cathedral, where there is a 7 am English service and a 10 am Luganda
service, or we visit one of the thirteen missions of the Diocese with
one of the priests. So far we have visited four of the thirteen
missions. Regina and I both really enjoy going to the mission
churches. There is something special about them. I would compare them
to what we consider small membership churches (though these are pretty
small with probably no more than 60 people in attendance). Kasana
would be compared to a medium sized church. Between the two services I
would guess there to be between 500-600 people. These churches are
definitely something to be cherished.

All the churches in the diocese have a catechist. There are currently
not enough priests for each mission to have its own priest, so
oftentimes they rely on the catechist to lead worship and to preach.
One of the concerns Fr. Joe has shared with us is the lack of
education these catechists receive. While we have not yet engaged in
the conversation as to why education is an issue (is it resources,
money, time, etc?) it is of concern to the priests. Regardless, all of
the ones we have met have been very welcoming and it is very apparent
that the Holy Spirit is at work in these settings.


That is pretty much our weekly routine. We only teach Monday-Thursday,
so we have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. Though Sundays are
usually full days with worship and other activities; some Friday and
Saturdays are busier than others. We have time for rest and
reflection—both are very much needed throughout the day and on the
weekends!! We have enjoyed many conversations with the priests, some
of the teachers, and other members of the community.


In addition to our work here, we have had the opportunity to do a
little bit of travel and hope to be able to do some more in the weeks
to come! We have been to Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, a few
times. It is big, busy, and dirty!! They have a few craft markets that
we enjoy browsing. We also attended Namugongo on June 3rd. This is a
celebration Mass remembering the 22 Catholic martyrs who died in 1886.
There were also 23 Anglican martyrs who died with them. It was a good
experience, with an estimated 2-3 million people there. Mass lasted 6
hours. Many people walked 100’s of kilometers to get to Namugongo,
risking their lives for this special occasion. We have also been on a
journey to the center of the earth!! That’s right, we have been to the
Equator! It was a fun, long, and exciting journey! We took public
transportation (“mini-bus” taxis), and that was a whole experience in
itself and a story for another day!!

Overall we have enjoyed our time in Uganda and feel extremely blessed
to be able to participate in such a wonderful, Spirit-led community.

This blog post is also on my personal blog at coalty.blogspot.com

Grace & Peace,
Corey

What's the point?

Pastor Anne Mallaby at the Chapel on Station Gallery, at Box Hill Baptist Church, with view to adjacent sanctuary

I’m currently working at Box Hill Baptist Church in Melbourne, Australia.  Their ministry includes an art gallery in their church space.  For my first day at the church, I helped install a new exhibition in the gallery.  It was  a great way to get to spend some time with the pastors of the church and to become acquainted with things.  In the evening, there was a grand opening for the exhibit, which will remain on display at the church for the next 2 weeks ("fortnight" in Aussie terms).  The art was stunning, and the visitors were warm and friendly.

As Benson McGlone (colleague, Duke M.Div) and I were at the exhibition, we pondered the question, “what’s the ‘point’ of the art gallery?”  Many churches in our experience are focused on evangelism and “outreach,” usually in the form of events that bring people in the doors and get “butts in the pews.”  At this gallery event, some people were not acquainted with this church or interested in Jesus.  These churches might see this as a prime opportunity for outreach, for a gospel presentation, for forcing folks into (somewhat awkward) conversations about Jesus.

Furthermore, Benson and I were drawn to Australia because Christianity simply doesn’t have much cultural capital here; many folks have little experience with Christianity, or bad experiences with the church, and many churches are small, elderly, and shrinking.  What does "evangelism" look like in this context?  In the face of such difficulties, shouldn’t the church be bold, outspoken, even aggressive with the gospel message, to draw folks in?  If not, then what’s the “point” of church, we wondered?

Pastor Anne, functioning as gallery curator and hosting a Q&A session with the artist

At the exhibition event, we (tactfully) posed these questions to Co-Pastor Anne Mallaby, my supervisor.  Her response presented a fresh new perspective: “the point of this gallery, and this exhibition, is to present a safe space for people to wonder.  People experience real beauty here, in the art.  I hope folks begin to wonder and ask questions about real beauty and creativity, in this gallery, which is also a church.  If they ask questions about God, I will discuss it, but I’m not here to force it.  It’s about relationships.”  We are here to wonder alongside one another, Anne explained, and the Holy Spirit will take things from there.

When we encounter the beautiful and the creative, we encounter God (God is, after all, creative by nature).  By the Holy Spirit’s guidance, and some ministerial sensitivity, conversations about beauty just might lead to back to the true source of beauty: God.  This often happens with daily visitors who drop in at the gallery and end up chatting about life with the church volunteers on call.  Sometimes conversations lead to God, and then they touch on the important stuff of life: spirituality, pain, brokenness, love, joy, victory.  This is ministry.  This is outreach.  This is us, joining God, in creativity.

Perhaps Pastor Anne is redefining evangelism in a radical way.  Perhaps those at Box Hill are creating a space for others to encounter Christ  in such a way that the “news” is decidedly “good” again.  Perhaps this is truly wonder-ful.

Peace and wonder,
Tyler Smoot

smoot.tyler@gmail.com

6/2/2013

"We're the Kids in America"

The refrain “we’re the kids in America” echoed in the background of O.R. Tambo International Airport. During the past three weeks in South Africa I have taken note of the various cultural influences around me. In this moment I was in the International Airport watching Africans and Afrikaans walk by, accompanying my Indian host family, and listening to American pop music. My head was beginning to spin with cultural schizophrenia.

When I signed up for this internship I expected a diverse cultural experience, yet I had no way of anticipating its contours. For starters, I never expected an introduction to Indian culture. My hosts are a mixed Afrikaans and Indian family. Meals are often traditional Indian dishes, I get to interact with Indian college students, and I’ve met the extended Indian family. Immersion in the third largest Indian population outside of India has been a very welcome surprise.

The less welcome surprise has been American cultural hegemony. Popular music is American pop music. Two dominant “take aways” are McDonalds and KFC. Current headlining movies include Fast and Furious 6, Iron Man 3, Epic, and Star Trek 2, all American franchises. Within the church I see our members participating in Bible study series, reading Christian fiction, and using other religious resources from mega church pastors in the States. Most saddening of all is that even at Synod at least half of the music played was American Christian praise music.

While American cultural hegemony makes the immersion experience less traumatic, I didn’t come here to be in a mini-America. Yet what I see as troubling is a dissonance among the South African people as to whom they want to be. On the one hand there are incredibly bold statements as to South Africa’s present and future identity being guided by African heritage, such as the impressive Constitutional Court. On the other hand, I have heard and witnessed the South African mentality that they “are the America of Africa.” Among the suburbs in which I am residing it seems that affluence is defined by the American standard. Yet when catchy refrains such as “we’re the kids in America” get stuck in people’s heads, shaping the imagination, should I be surprised to see a clash between African pride and American mimesis?

South Africa Awaits!

“Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’”  -John 9:39

Not too long ago I shoved my life into a bag of no more than fifty pounds and flew half way across the world.  My destination was South Africa.  For months I had been preparing for this journey, reading, seeking advice from friends, and trying to pack for a winter in Africa.  Through all of my preparations I found prayer the most difficult.  Despite all my research I found it hard to imagine the contours of life and church in this foreign land.

I oftentimes found myself drawn to the words of Jesus about sight, that he came that the blind might see.  A big part of this internship is learning to see the church and the world with new eyes.  If I couldn’t conceptualize ministry in South Africa before my travels, at least I could pray for eyes to see upon my arrival.

So after a brief ten thousand mile flight, I arrived at my destination.  South Africa is an exciting country. This is a place where people drive on the wrong side of the road, stoplights are robots, people say fun words like ‘dodgey,’ ‘bru,’ and ‘oak,’ and the weather is schizophrenic.  Most of all, this is a colorful place that lives up to the nickname the Rainbow Nation.  The population is a tapestry of Africans, Afrikaans, Indians, and Coloured* people, to name only a few.

Yet despite the novel experience of seeing a foreign land, I’m constantly reminded that there is so much I don’t see.  I notice the many people milling about directionless on the city streets, but I cannot see what it means to be among the 40% unemployed in this nation.  I have been called a pale face and a whitey, but I don’t understand the lingering wounds of a post-apartheid nation.  I have been warned about areas that are simply unsafe to travel to even during the day, but I have yet to see the full extent of fear caused by racism and xenophobia.   There is much here I don’t understand.

One of my favorite new words here is ‘Sawubona.’   This is a Zulu greeting that literally means “I see you.”  I find this a helpful word to reflect upon.  Rather than simply offer a superficial greeting, the statement acknowledges that you really see another.  My prayer for this experience is that I will have eyes to see beyond superficial boundaries to recognize the people that God loves.  Please pray that during this journey I will have eyes to really see people, the world around me, and the ways God is at work in South Africa.

*Coloured is a term used to refer to those of mixed racial background in South Africa.  Coloured peoples are considered a separate racial group.  In general, South Africans are more direct about racial terms than in the United States. 

emBodying Christ

                Clouds covered the wintry African sky, and the wind raged outside.  Indoors, the nursing home residents were covered in blankets and clustered around a heater.  My friend and I were there to bring communion to church members who couldn’t make it to services, including some members afflicted with Alzheimer’s.

                One woman caught my attention.  The sleeves of her sweatshirt were pinned back, her arms snuggled close to her torso.  Her name was Gilly, and she had been living with Multiple Sclerosis for the past 20 years.  When my friend explained that I was a visiting intern from America, Gilly brightened and said, “Welcome, Sarah!”

                I soon learned that Gilly was paralyzed from the neck down.  She relied on her food and drink being propped up on a tray, a slab of foam, and a thick dictionary – all balanced on her lap.  When it came time to serve communion, I gently tilted the juice into her mouth.  In fact, many of Gilly's fellow residents had lost the use of their hands, so more often than not, they opened their mouths for us to place the wafer inside.

                Can I, too, have such an open-hearted posture when it comes to receiving Christ?  Can I, too, gratefully accept the gift of his presence?  How simple, yet miraculous, to obediently and reverently open oneself to receiving communion.

                Gilly’s MS has not prevented her from continuing to serve the Lord.  Only recently, she became an accomplished painter, using a paintbrush held between her teeth.  A paintbrush held between her teeth!  You wouldn't believe some of her creations.  Her artwork has been turned into greeting cards, and I came back a few days later with some Rand to purchase half a dozen.  Gilly was delighted to hear that I wanted to write about her on this blog.  She happily posed for a picture next to an arrangement of her cards.

{my favorite painting of Gilly's}

                I wonder if I’ll always look back on that communion experience as one of my most memorable times of ministry.  Thank God for people who teach us what true, humble receiving of the Lord’s Supper looks like.  Thank God for people who share their talents with the rest of us, and use their creativity to glorify God.  Thank God for the opportunity to live and serve in another country, witnessing the kingdom of heaven all over the earth!

Kenya (Umoja Project)

                 It has been almost a week since I left the Land of Opportunity to go to a land of the the most welcoming and kind people on Earth! Right know, I am in Kisumu, Kenya to be part of this amazing this called Umoja Project.  

                 I don't really know where to start sharing about this amazing experience... I guess that I should start from the time that we arrived in Nairobi. Since we had a day to kill, Ellen, the director of the project got in contact with a friend who, at the same time, put us in contact with an amazing guy who served as a tour guide through the city. His name was Erasto. We visited nice places in the city and some of the not so nice places. In the beginning, I felt that it was not "nice" since I felt kind of insecure since we were walking through a ghetto-area of the city, but my fears flew away when a bunch of children came up to us shouting out with the cutest little voices, "How are you? How are you?"

                 I saw poverty, yes, and to be honest, I was not surprised. As a matter of fact, that is what people expect when they hear the word: Africa. But what not everybody knows is how rich the African people are in kindness and love for one another and especially for the little ones. In the few hours that we got to stay in Nairobi we spent time at a very humble school, where most of the teachers were volunteers and, along with education, they were offering lunch to the little ones. We also got the chance to talk with an artist who teaches the little ones how to paint and do artwork. The goal of both the school and the artist was to give the future of the country a skill set to survive and be something other than a burden on society. Most of these children and the future of the country are orphans, they have no family to take care of them, but what was extremely surprising to me was how eager the kids were to learn. I think we have something to learn here, I know that in the United States a lot of people help in their free time or with money, but these people give beyond what they have and take all the time needed to spend with the children.  

                  Once we were in Kisumu did I realize that Ellen, the director of the project, was a Rock Star! They call her Mama Ellen (or Hellen, since Ellen is not a common name for them); they show to her how grateful they are for the interest that the GIP (Global Interfaith Partnership) has for the future of the children. Nevertheless, they showed me the same love, they are so grateful that I decided to spend my time with them and, for them, that is so valuable. One of the pastors of North UMC in Indiana told me that, for the Kenyans, people who stay with them is like when the three men visited Abraham: he was so honored that he offered the best of what he had... Let me tell you, HERE THEY TREAT ME LIKE ONE OF THOSE MEN! But not because they think that I have something to give, but because it is in their own nature. 

                    Until now, I only got to visit a few schools, the real rodeo starts next week for me, but from what I see now, I don't know if I want to come back to the United States. I have fallen in love with these children, as I know you will when you see the pictures. 

Blessings from Kenya!!!!!

Federico Apecena

Duke Divinity School Intern

Umoja Project (Kenya)  

On Embracing the Uncomfortable

I am also sharing this post on my personal blog: thejukeboxofmymind.blogspot.com. Feel free to check it out! (There are a lot of pictures!)

This summer, I am spending four weeks in Xela, Guatemala, primarily in Spanish language school, and then heading to El Salvador for six weeks to serve the United Methodist Church. I am studying and working with Meredith and Ben, two people for whom I am very grateful. We have finished our first three weeks of language school, and the time has flown by.

The Uncomfortable

In general, I don’t like change and I don’t like feeling uncomfortable. It’s a wonder I like to travel so much. Whenever I travel, there is always that time of not feeling like I belong, of feeling uncomfortable. I’m not talking about being physically uncomfortable- a bed with very little mattress; cold showers; being wet, smelly, and gross; and crowded buses with people sitting on top of me are givens. I can handle the physical uncomfortableness pretty well. However, the feeling of awkwardness, the insecurity of not belonging- these are the uncomfortable times that I had to embrace during my first few weeks here in Xela, Guatemala.   

Faith

The second day I was here, my host family grilled me about my faith. I don’t live with a Christian family here, and my “dad” has some serious opinions about Christianity. They did not understand what “Anglican” is, let alone “Episcopal.” They think I’m Mormon because I don’t drink coffee or alcohol [I do drink alcohol in the U.S., I just decided not to here]. Anywho, on this second day in Xela, my dad kept asking me about the Holy Spirit, Jesus and saints, and, well, I was super uncomfortable. My speaking skills at this point consisted of “sí” and “no,” although I did understand most of what he was saying. I realized quickly that to some people, I was going to have to defend the cross I wear around my neck. Living with any host family necessitates an adjustment period, and this host experience is no exception.

Food

Last Saturday, I had my first real “culture shock” moment. I went into the kitchen to sit at the table and eat lunch, and on each plate was an entire fish. Head, fins, tail and all. “Lovely,” I thought. How do I eat this?! I decided to wait and watch the rest of my family for hints on how to begin. My eight-year old “brother” dug right in with his hands, ripping off the fins and picking out the bones. I decided to watch other people at the table… one woman was using a fork, so I decided I’d try with the fork. My “dad” looked at me struggling with the fork and said, “You don’t need a fork! Just dig in with your hands, like Fernando!” Ok, if you say so! Hola, culture shock! Fernando ended up devouring three fish-heads. Don’t worry, I didn’t follow that example.

Staring

I love that children have no filter or sensor. My almost 2-year-old “nephew,” Alejandro, is a prime example. He openly stares at me, and then screams. During the stare, his eyes say, “You don’t belong here… You’re not like us. What are you doing here?” I look right back at that adorable child and think, “I don’t know, Alejandro. Good question.”

Language

What makes it all worse is not feeling confident in speaking the language. I feel great at school with my teachers, and then I come home and feel like an idiot talking to my family. Put me in any public situation and I have to rehearse what I’m going to say over and over so as to not feel like a dork. And then usually I don’t understand the responses to whatever I ask.

BUT…

Embracing that Uncomfortable

Recently, something clicked. On my trip to the Mercado San Francisco with my teacher Odilia, I felt like I could actually speak to her, and we had very friendly conversation the entire morning. Over the weekend, Alejandro said my name (“Tita,” he can’t pronounce Christa!). I’ve had bonding moments with every member of my family, even mi abuela who I cannot understand (we dance to the music on the radio). This week I laughed and joked with my new teacher, Flor, as if I was hanging out with a friend in the U.S.

Somehow, miraculously, after three weeks of struggling through a new language and culture, I finally feel like I can be myself in school and with my family. I feel settled, I feel welcomed, I feel comfortable. I have been enveloped in love by these people who at one point had made me feel out of place. When I walk to my “house,” I feel like I’m going home. I have created bonds with my teachers at school that make me excited to go every day, just to see them and talk with them!

But of course after one more week, I will leave for El Salvador where circle of feeling uncomfortable will start all over again. Although feeling uncomfortable is probably one of my least favorite feelings, it is also something I highly recommend because it is a reminder that life is not always a comfort. It doesn’t take an abroad experience to feel uncomfortable- I can think of many places in Durham, Geneva, or Framingham where feeling comfortable would take a lot of time and effort. Time and effort that would be well worth it, vale la pena.

Being uncomfortable abroad ultimately helps me think about immigrants in the United States who potentially live in a perpetual state of discomfort. I firmly believe that when we cannot empathize with people, we make it easier to put up barriers and divide ourselves based on differences. We can easily think that other people’s problems are not our own. I’ll be the first person to tell you that feeling uncomfortable and out of place stinks. However I was given the chance to thrive in the uncomfortable-ness to the point where I was welcomed and loved, and that feels great. Gracias a todas las personas de mi “familia” in Xela quien me ayudaron y me calmaron. Admiro la hospitalidad Guatemalteca.

In the end, what honestly gives me the most comfort is knowing that you all are thinking about me and praying for me as I am on this journey. You, my “family,” have supported me so much along the way, and I appreciate it so much. I will end this post with a prayer from the Book of Common Prayer that I found as I began to write this post, which I see as a prayer to help me try to embrace others who are uncomfortable:

A Prayer for the Human Family

O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purpose on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Peace, Love, and Smiles,

Christa

Hermanas

Hi folks, I'm in Mexicali for international field Ed, along with Kristin Dollar. I'm reposting this from my personal blog, which you are welcome to read at:

Sarahewilcox.wordpress.com

In the Church we call one another “Hermana” and “Hermano” a lot (Sister/Brother). In a group address or a simple greeting, it’s typical to say “Hola hermana/o.” In the Spanish language, if there is one man present, it is proper to use the masculine form of address “Hermanos,” “Muchachos,” etc.

There is something special about being in a group of women, of sisters. I really appreciated attending the women’s bible study at Santísima Trinidad and hearing Maribel address us as “Hermanas.” This is the way we live here. Families are special, but every one in the church truly is treated as a family of God, and we say so out loud.

Cafecito
Cafecito is a special occasion at Santísima Trinidad where the women of the church gather over coffee and hear some one’s testimony. This Saturday I get to be that some one. I’m honored to share my own story with them, but I want to write about some some of the stories of the women I’ve met here…

I hope to add more photos to this post, but for now I only have Victoria – the one in yellow. She’s with one of her sisters.

Victoria is one of our hosts. We live in the home, of which she oversaw the building and chose how each nook and cranny and window would look. She welcomed us and told us to treat her home like our own “con confianza.” She has a huge family and many friends, all of whom she welcomes under her roof. Kristin and I get some funny looks from visitors sometimes, but no one is surprised that Victoria is generously hosting us. Last week I tried to pay for our “rent,” and she gave me a strange look and asked, “What is this for?”
Victoria is an amazing cook, and she and Salvador own and operate a restaurant together. It has a shell of a bus for it’s roof, and their son Esteban, as well as various other family members joyfully and diligently work there.
Victoria has one of her breasts removed. I haven’t yet found the courage or occasion to ask her about it.
From a certificate of gratitude on her “refri” (fridge) I know that she donated the air conditioning units to her church, where Kristin works, Iglesia Del Divino Redentor.

Maribel
Maribel is another one of my hosts. She is Pastor Jacob’s wife, and every time we have a work day, she welcomes me into the lunch meal that her family shares. Usually Marisol (sister) and/or one of their brothers, in-laws, and nieces/nephews join us as well. Maribel’s Aunt Gloria also lives in the parsonage. She moved in when her sister (Maribel’s mother) died. Gloria and her sister had been best friends and did everything together.
Maribel is also essentially a co-pastor with Jacob, along with being an awesome mom and cook. She translated Jacob’s sermons until his Spanish was good enough for people to understand (He still speaks it in a Dutch accent). She preaches occasionally, teaches Bible study and sunday school, organizes the women’s group and hosts “cafecitos” (coffee time) in the parsonage.
My favorite Maribel moments are when she commands the dog Nikki in a very loud very Spanish voice, with lot’s of ‘rr’s “Métense de aquí, Nikki! RRRRápido!”

Damarís
Damarís is another of our hosts. She is Pastor Felipe’s wife, and you can read more of her story on Kristin’s blog, the post “Juntos”: Juntos

Patti
Patti immediately became my friend at Santísima Trinidad. I’ve never asked her age, but I think we’re close in age. I went to her Sunday school class (for children) on my first day at the church. She made sure I understood the lesson and even used me as an object lesson in teaching that the Holy Spirit brings people together. I sat with her during worship after Sunday school, and she walked me through everything, including helping me understand that I was supposed to be leading people in prayer.
As soon as I said I was a dancer and had taught dance Patti invited me to teach for her Sunday school group. It’s been very fun. Patti is very creative and is bold in sharing when I invite the group to choreograph. She is great with children, a strong teacher of Scripture and the Christian life, and is very encouraging to me. When I see her she always smiles and welcomes me with a hug and a “Dios te bendiga” (God bless you).

Aurora
In many ways it is not fair to put Aurora at the end of this long post. I could write about her for days. My first pastoral visit alongside Jacob was to her home. I was nervous, but I immediately felt welcomed by her smile and bright eyes, which speak her wisdom, faith, and love, even when I can’t understand her words. She comes to Santísima more than once a week, but she can’t come to everything because she cares for Romano, her husband, who is bed-ridden.
In Romano’s room there is a handwritten sign that says “Cristo es mi roca y mi fortaleza” (Christ is my rock and my strength), which is certainly evident in Aurora’s life and care for not only her husband, but all her family.
During our visit I learned that Romano can’t speak very much. Neither can he move very much. He needs assistance changing his position in the bed. I learned that he used to own a ranch where he tended goats because he sometimes tells us he is going to get out of bed to go to work. He has been unable to go to work for some time and unable to go to church in the past few months. Aurora is his everything right now.
Romano asked for water. Neither Jacob nor I couldn’t understand his words, but Aurora did. When she brought him the glass of water she had to bend over him, lift his head, and hold the water to his lips. As she did so, she said, “A ver, mi hijo” (Here, my child). My heart at once overflowed with joy for her love for him and broke for the drastic change in their relationship. In health the love of matrimony; in sickness that of mother and child. Aurora loves Romano with faith and patience.
At one point during our visit Romano didn’t recognize Aurora. She was standing at the end of the bed, and he asked us, “Dónde está (Where is) Aurora?” Aurora responded in a calm voice, as she always does, “Yo soy” (I’m she)… “No me conoces?” (You don’t know me?).
In our second visit (Jacob goes once a week owing to Romano’s health), Jacob asked me to close us in prayer over Romano. I knelt in humility and reverence at Romano’s bedside and prayed in (I think) a compassionate tone. Afterward Rubén, Aurora and Romano’s son thought I should have prayed more fervently – you must pray for a miracle. Aurora again responded in her faithful, wise, and unflustered voice, “Día con día yo veo los milagros de Dios” (Day by day I see the miracles of God).
I am learning from every one here, and I already have love for the entire church of Santísima Trinidad, but Aurora is always the person I’m most overjoyed to see.

I am thankful to learn from the strong, loyal, faithful women in this church. I am humbled that they welcome me, not only in their worship and bible study spaces, but also in their homes and in the profoundest joys and hurts of their selves and their families.