sometimes i remember to dance as i laugh

2012-01-03T19:25:00.002-05:00

The evening of New Years day, as we were sitting on the couch, I asked what he was smiling about. He said he was just thinking about how amazing it was that some completely separate person was sitting next to him, choosing to be with him.
Its gonna be a good year. Its gonna be a growing year, and an adult year. We're gonna be bigger and better than ever at this time next year. We totally got this.
* * *
Talking to Thomas via Skype, he tells me... "You.. your life.. you... sound more, uh, Fresno now", and I took it as the highest compliment.
* * *
We had a happy New Year in Santa Barbara, complete with posole in the morning, courtesy of a beautiful welcoming second-family. A sister-in-law is pregnant with a girl, and she was talking about how she and her husband wanted a few boys before they had a girl, so they could look out for her. Their first son is GORGEOUS as a kid, so there's no doubt this baby girl will be too. Their solution will be to keep her hair short and in baggy clothes. Scott agrees with their methods. He says he would be okay with having a daughter if he knew she would be ugly, or knew she would be a lesbian. He doesn't want any daughter of his being looked at by men.

Living More Fresno

2011-11-29T22:37:00.001-05:00

My supervisor turned to me today as I was driving her back to the office from a meeting offsite. "I'm aware that your contract is set to end in two weeks, and I want you to know we're working on it. I've emailed our ED and she hasn't responded, but we'll set a time to meet with the grant administrator sometime soon, so hopefully your funding can be continued."

I graciously responded, fully aware that everyone's grants are expiring right now, and we've only received a few new ones....

...

I knew all that. I really did. but somehow, the two week mark hadn't clicked yet.

...

At Thanksgiving, one of the only real things I heard was my uncle say his business wasn't great, but it was okay, he hadn't had to lay any one off recently.

...

Sometimes I think the biggest reason I came back to Fresno was to meet this boy. He's the most stable thing going on in my life right now. Not sure if that's the healthiest place to be in, but I'm happy. He's got a good job, works full time doing computer programming stuff. We're going to his company Christmas party in a week... at Ruth's Chris Steak House. We drive around in his black truck, run errands and visit his parents on the weekend (I bought myself a car finally, too!). He holds me and the world falls into place.

...

We have a conversation about slowing things down and then walk into a jewelry store that's going out of business. Don't worry y'all, I freaked out and ranted about terrible working practices and blood diamonds and corruption in South Africa.

On Beginning to see what I'm here to learn

2011-08-30T17:31:00.000-04:00

"You know Christine, graduating high school is going to be the biggest thing I will have done in my whole life" she told me suddenly. I was suddenly ashamed of all my well-meant earlier admonitions to think bigger than city college. She's right, in a small way, but her brains are capable of doing anything in the world.
This girl who used to talk about leaving Fresno for college has realized that she is responsible for her family. What's more, she has realized that her family is her priority; despite outside influences pulling one way or the other. They would let her leave, and they would be proud of her successes. She knows it. She is choosing to stay. I am humbled by her strength, even as a confused shy high school senior. And I am going to scream so loudly at her graduation ceremony this May.

* * * * *

A girl had just come in to ask for an internship, and eventually mentioned that we knew her sister. As she was leaving my coworker says, "that's my sister-in-law. She married my wife's brother"

* * * * *

In one of my 1-1 listening sessions, a girl told me she thought Fresno was getting better, because she remembered the violence growing up, and having to go to funerals. There's not a funeral for a young person every weekend any more. When I asked what she wanted Fresno to be like (another city, specific area of town, or something from tv/movies), she thought about it and said a local private university, because its quiet and peaceful and the grass is actually green there.

* * * * *

Surrounded by people coming from much more communal-minded families (cultures), I am filled with thankfulness that they accept and love me, even as I am selfish and individualistic. I am learning to live well with my mother, and appreciating my incredible greater family.
There's this boy in my life, (we're "dating exclusively", which I think means boyfriend/girlfriend in high school lingo). His parents have a total of 16 siblings, giving him over a hundred cousins. I'm impressed.(i have a hard time focusing when I start thinking about him... guess this is the end of my post)

On Being in Fresno again

2011-08-15T19:19:00.001-04:00

I've started half a dozen blogs since returning Home (in all senses of that word). The words haven't come out right, yet. I've decided to not be so ambitious as to fully explain my current feelings or thoughts, but instead share some ideas I've been pondering.

A friend recently read Thomas Merton's Seven Storey Mountain, which I read last summer. What I took out of it, was from a simple conversation that Merton has with a friend before even entering a religious order. How does one become a saint? by wanting to become one.

"ecumenicism at its best, means you walk away more deeply connected to your own tradition of faith" -Mary Jo (who also said the faith of Muslims she lived with showed her what faith really could be)

"Each day holds a surprise. But only if we expect it can we see, hear, or feel it when it comes to us. Let's not be afraid to receive each day's surprise, whether it comes to us as a sorrow or as a joy. It will open a new place in our hearts, a place where we can welcome new friends and celebrate more fully our shared humanity" Henry Nouwen, Bread for the Journey

Everything so far has added up to being Ready for This, Here Right Now, and somehow what is to come is going to take the grand sum of everything I will have learned up to then.

that I could learn Spanish, and be fluent. (related- that I know more than I give myself credit for. apparently my accent is impeccable, according to an older man with questionable intentions)

that I want to find a family to live with in the southern half of town. preferably Spanish speaking, but maybe Lao.

I already have more education that 3/4ths of the those older than 25 in this county.

There are plenty of other educated intelligent boomerangers who have returned and are actively making a difference in this town (especially with youth).

I am attracted to people who go All Out towards some desire/ideal. preferably altruistic. (related- apparently my huge list of qualifications for ABoyInLife aren't that impossible, they are just intensely localized)

I am happy here. I feel lucky (/blessed) to be here. I feel really really lucky to be working here.

On Being a Companion

2011-07-21T23:48:00.000-04:00

In the first few weeks past orientation, I fielded a phone call from a scared young man. He wanted to ask about specific line-by-line fields in his Personal Information Form (PIF). He had so many questions, I invited him to come into the office. We worked hard, and filled out the 16 page document. I heard his story, and helped him apply for social assistance, legal aid, work permit, etc. I also connected him to a legal lady who works part time here. Some things he qualified for, and others he didn't.
Throughout the year, he checked in with me. I helped with various things. He found support groups, doctors, a counselor, a church (all on his own).
When my leg was broken, he gave me a sweet, and entirely appropriate, card with some candy.
He received a notice for scheduling, and began to panic a bit. He didn't qualify for legal aid, and no lawyers wanted to touch his case. Our legal lady began to talk to him about other options, because we knew, he didn't fit the definition of a refugee or protected person. He panicked some more. He disappeared for a while.
He found some other options for himself, and he found a lawyer.
The day before the hearing, I asked if he still wanted me to come to the hearing. He said he didn't want me to see him crying. that it would make him more nervous. etc. etc. So I didn't go.
Yesterday he had his hearing. He was summarily denied.
Today he called me. He sounded so relieved that it was all over. It was the least stressed and least panicked that he's been all year. He sounded normal. He's evaluating his options, but will probably return to his home country, work a bit, and then attempt to come back to Canada as a student or a worker.

And so I'm reminded what accompaniment is about: walking with people, even if its not the romanticized ideal "refugee". I walked with him this year, through the entire refugee process. People have the right to be heard. He was heard. His claim was denied, the legally appropriate response (dare I judge?).

Everyone has the right to make a refugee claim, to be heard by a refugee protection officer, and to present evidence proving their claims. Laws, human rights, international conventions, they apply equally to likable and unlikable people. to nice people and mean ones, anxious or angry, tall or short, OCD or scattered, attractive or ugly, old or young, fat or funny. Everyone has the right to be heard. At RH, we try to walk with the people who come to us, as faithfully as we can, throughout the Canadian process. I am transformed by the strength, dignity, and sheer willpower of those who I have companioned (for which I am so thankful).

My Story Tree is Drooping

2011-07-19T19:53:00.001-04:00

either from the insane humidity today, or the weight of so many stories.
+ + +
The boy who lives downstairs is singing "I know a song that is on anybody's words, anybody's words, anybody's words". I'm not sure if I want to correct him so he sings "that gets on everybody's nerves" or not.

His baby sister has the most wonderful smile. I babysat her today while she slept.

Their middle sister has made only happy noises today, as far back as I can remember. And she was happy this morning waiting for the bus

+ + +

the ladies who live underneath his family will miss me when I'm gone. They tell me my skin is like velvet.
Last night, we couldn't find a skin color in our new xbox360 avatar selections that matched one of them. she was laughing, and yelling, Christine! find it! where is my color?!. Its not here! and we couldn't find it anywhere. nothing lighter than dark dark brownish black that was lighter than cinnamon.
...
This whole week whenever I've come through the front door, she has stopped me, demanded I sit down and tell her about my day. It feels good.
...
Today, we talked about the interns salaries.
"that boy, he is working overtime?" -H
"yeah... except we don't get paid overtime, so really he's just working extra" -me
"ey! how much do you get paid? you work for free?" -H
"well. we get enough for rent. and then $115 for food. and then $200 just for us"
"it is not bad" - L simultaneously with H saying "it is so bad!
"no. its not a lot of money, but we have lots of fun anyways" -me
"but, you know. That thing you do. According to the Bible, if you do the volunteering, especially with the refugees and the very poor ones, you will be blessed more than the one who works for money. You will have very many blessings because of your work this year.
Even us, we volunteer too. It is good. Me? I volunteer for two hours a week, and then I am fed up. You? you work every day all year, even weekends sometimes.
you have learned so much this year. You talk to me, it is like you are namibian too. you talk to Z, it is like you are from her country.... and we learn too.
If you had just stayed in California, stayed with your mom, you would not have learned anything. Your mind would be closed. If you travel, if you help people, God will open your mind.
You know, life is not easy, working with the people.
But you guys, you come here to be with us for a full year. It is so much. It is amazing."

+ + +

The lady that lives below her has her hearing date, and did so beautifully in an interview today that she's starting work on Friday. Her daughter and I are going swimming this week. I'm excited.

+ + +

Today I turned over all my files to our director. Now I need to slowly clean out my desk and plan two last things. It feels good (among other emotions)

Excerpts on Whiteness

2011-07-02T23:19:00.005-04:00

All of these quotes are taken from an article “How Do I Live in This Strange Place?” by S a m a n t h a V i c e of R h o d e s University in South Africa.
accessed from the blog Africa is a Country with a link to the article. Its worth reading in its entirety, (with the caveat that white people have inherently talked enough about everything in South Africa, so it might be more worth your time to go read something written by a nonwhite voice. whatever)

I think possibly, I came to a related conclusion after living in Stellenbosch for six months. Something about backing away slowly from International Development, and trying to stay in my own context. Except my own context is Fresno, and the people I love most are at FIRM, where I am still white (knowing I am not Hmong or Lao or Cambodian or Hispanic or Chicana). Reading it now, I like her conclusion of silence and humility, and that the solution to whiteliness is not mandating all bearers of whiteness jump in politically to attempt to rectify all past and ongoing injustices...

And in South Africa, the working and effects of privilege are starkly apparent; one cannot in good faith pretend they do not exist. Deciding how to live decently with this recognition is one of the main moral tasks facing all white people and the task I explore in this paper. How then is one to be a good person and live well under these morally dubious conditions? One way in which South Africa perhaps differs from the standard account [invisibility] mentioned above is that it is impossible for anyone not to be aware of his or her race... While one’s whiteness might still constitute the unacknowledged norm, as the invisibility thesis claims, that one is white rather than black is always present to oneself and others, barring an impressive feat of willed self-deception.

My interest, then, is in white South Africans who are aware of their whiteness and,... see themselves as a problem, because they know their selves to be constituted by habits of white privilege. 18 In the rest of the paper, I have these people in mind when I refer to whites, not those who are blatantly and proudly racist. Alcoff asks, “what is it to acknowledge one’s whiteness? Is it to acknowledge that one is inherently tied to structures of domination and oppression, that one is irrevocably on the wrong side?” 19 I think the answer to Alcoff’s question in South Africa is fairly obviously “yes.” Whites in South Africa ought to see themselves as a problem. How does one live knowing this, among the very visible effects of one’s moral offenses?

... to explore it further it will be helpful to put guilt aside and concentrate on shame. ... In standard accounts of the moral emotions, shame differs from guilt in being essentially directed toward the self, rather than outwards toward a harm one brought about.25 Shame is a response to having fallen below the standards one sets for oneself, whether moral or not. One’s very self is implicated in a way that need not be the case with guilt, which is a reaction to what one has done, not primarily to who one is...Shame is the recognition that one ought not to be as one is, and it does not, I think, depend on the claim that one could be different to how one is.

....

... I do not think that it is possible for most well-intentioned white South Africans who grew up in the Apartheid years to fulﬁll their moral duties and attain a great degree of moral virtue. 38 We cannot after all stop being white, although we may try to minimize our whiteliness, and have a duty to do so. There are the justly famous exceptions, and we probably all know people who are simply and quietly good in ways that allow them to transcend their whiteness. I am not making any universal or necessary claims about the possibility of happiness and virtue for white South Africans. For most of us, however, attaining them will be difﬁcult, for most of us are not good enough to become exceptions.

.....

I seek an appropriate way of living with white shame that is nonetheless private and does not assume that every person ought to respond only as a political animal, and that every response need be an outward action. For the very reason that every aspect of life in South Africa is so politicized, we should allow space for forms of expiation and self-improvement that do not demand a public gesture or political activity
...
To be morally successful, a certain restraint on our parts is required, which I now suggest we think about in terms of humility and silence. This restraint is, I think, appropriate to the South African context in a way it might not be elsewhere....
So, recognizing their damaging presence, whites would try, in a signiﬁcantly different way to the normal workings of whiteliness, to make themselves invisible and unheard, concentrating rather on those damaged selves. Making pronouncements about a situation in which one is so deeply implicated seems a moral mistake—it assumes one matters politically and morally beyond the ways in which everyone matters equally. One needs to learn that one does not. One would live as quietly and decently as possible, refraining from airing one’s view on the political situation in the public realm, realizing that it is not one’s place to offer diagnoses and analyses, that blacks must be left to remake the country in their own way. Whites have too long had inﬂuence and a public voice; now they should in humility step back from expressing their thoughts or managing others.
...
Whatever else it is, whiteliness is surely a lack of humility.
...

My attempt in this paper to think through being white would then be a professional and personal breaking of pernicious whitely silence; “making strange” what was previously “just the way things are.”

The relevant kind of silence is therefore a political silence, silence in the political realm, rather than a professional silence or the stiﬂing of all conversation with others in which race or privilege, for instance, is the topic. For once again, shame, regret, or guilt would be the expected responses to knowledge of one’s whiteliness and insidious connection to injustice. This knowledge seems to recommend silence in the political realm as the morally decent policy: One would remain silent to prevent one’s whitely perspective from causing further distortion in the political and public contexts, where whiteness is most problematic and charged. Thought of in these terms, silence is a response to the inevitability of going wrong and an expression of humility.

Unlike many other colonial legacies, which whites should certainly feel uncomfortable about, our history of injustice is recent, part of living memory, something whites beneﬁt from in direct, unmediated ways—and therefore something that implicates each one’s sense of self now. My argument for the appropriateness of feeling shame and of responding to it with silence and humility depends not on some ancient wrong done in our name, but of our own ongoing wrongdoings and their visible effects. Once again, then, the best moral response is to accept shame as both appropriate and troubling, and to turn one’s attention to the self with silence and if possible, humility.

Living decently in this land even under these conditions will be difﬁcult. In a country beset by continuing injustice, it will be hard sometimes to discern when it is appropriate to maintain silence, and when that would indicate, rather, an inappropriate disengagement or obsession with moral purity. Perhaps gross injustice is being done, and whatever one’s race, whatever the context, one should take a stand. 49 Furthermore, one would still be compelled to make small gestures and utterances; there are demands every day for private acts, not of charity but of justice (whitely ways of thinking in this country confuse these two). But knowing how best to respond to these occasions is also difﬁcult when whites still have economic and social power, which infects every encounter. White South Africans face daily and tenacious moral tests that show themselves up as inadequate as much as revealing the deep structural and systemic injustices of the country. However one acts, shame is never far away, for so many interactions seem charged with power or racial dynamics. It is hard to be comfortable like this and hard to resist the thought that for most white South Africans it will be almost impossible to lead a good life.

A Short Dictionary of Life Here

2011-07-01T13:53:00.000-04:00

babies: a fact of life. over the course of the year, many turn into toddlers, and are replaced by new ones in different families.
communication: highly prized, but rarely fully realized
community: all-encompassing, defines life, yet makes little sense from the outside.
idealistic: a term thrown about with disdain as we balance impossible lives
interns: first overwhelmed confused small beings, then after three months become highly experienced staff members capable of legal advice, housing support, event coordination, public administration, teaching, babysitting, and counseling. Thoroughly appreciate when others cook for them, especially halusky.
left over wine: the best part of being voluntold to work events
meat: a highly prized nutritional supplement, fiercely defended against vegetarian proclamations of thinner staff

ohromerohouse: said with a loving sigh, or amused eyeroll. used on occasions where illogical decisions are made on behalf of bettering or protecting a relationship

ohmaryjo: a frequent saying. also can be followed by a song "mary jOoOoOo mary jo mary jo" closely related to: ohromerohouse
Oscar Romero's Prayer: not actually written by him, but quoted liberally in public and private
patience: the highest virtue we know.
parties: an essential ingredient for encouraging joy and happiness with the residents

prayer: a daily morning occurrence, to varying levels of participation or appreciation.

pregnant/mother: what all female-interns are regularly told they are (or ought to be) by residents, drop-ins, and former residents

sleep: highly prized, especially on weekends past nine am.

TTC pass: highly prized plastic cards that interns can use in spare time to escape briefly. highly contentious issue if not returned in time.

volentold: when interns work unplanned weekends or evenings for events that don't involve residents or daily tasks. the modus opperandi for making events happen that have been planned for other people.

Wanda: where to go when you don't have any money left to really get away from it all

Ridiculously Homesick Today

2011-06-19T23:03:00.000-04:00

I wanna go home rull bad today.
It started with the Mexican food that my neighbor cooked on Friday. She made taquitos/flautas and sopes. I was trying to get out the door, she invited me to eat three times, and I managed to say no the first two times. Her husband's guacamole is divine. So I ate 3 taquitos and 3 sopes. And then I went to the event (with the ex-Jesuit) and served canapes to RH donors. And then I ate 3 more taquitos. and maybe 3 more sopes. and I tried the other appetizers too.
but theres something about deep friend corn flour surrounding fatty meat and cheese. smothered in guacamole and a bit of Mexican sour cream. it tastes like home.
When Jouni was here, we ate Vietnamese. I ordered coconut water and almost cried when it came. It was so good.
Yesterday, I ate Chipotle. It was good, but it wasn't the same.
***
Ashley asked what I was looking forward to most in August. The following list exploded out of my mouth:
1. Mexican food
2. fresh fruit that isn't transported thousands of miles first
3. being close to the mountains
4. being close to the ocean
5. warm summer nights
6. being able to call people with my cell phone
7. being able to text
8. having access to my moms car
9. going camping with my friends
10. being able to call my best friend and actually spend time with her before she moves to Utah
11. seeing those Fresno boys again.

There are so many beautiful things about being here, but man oh man, 40 never seemed like such a big number...

another person's opinion on my experience here

2011-06-18T19:39:00.005-04:00

I met a character from one of Mary Jo's books last night.
He's the Jesuit who left the order to start a family.
Jack told us last night "he's more of a Jesuit than I'll ever be" (to which the man rolled his eyes and shook his head)
He's now working internationally for the Jesuits in his retirement. He looked sternly at the three female interns sitting on the bench across from him. "Be careful. Once you get involved with the Jesuits, you'll always stay involved" ..whoops...

...

later he asked me if Romero House had "ruined me for life" like the Jesuit Volunteers say that JVS does for their life. I told him I really didn't like that term at all. He explained that I was "ruined" from ever enjoying dominant culture, or capitalism, or all these other things. I told him I still didn't like that term.

I prefer ideas of a more infinite Yes. Being open to a greater existence, a world of unseen possibilities, etc, etc.

...

Being a "Ruined" person implies that I could never go back even if I wanted to. It alludes to "ruined women" who, having lost their virginity, could never be accepted in proper society again. It implies that I have no choice in the matter. Me, having had one singular experience, would be automatically rejected by society. The experience entered me, and I having experienced it, am ruined. No turning back, and I have not influenced anyone or anything. I have been altered, and must live with the consequences. He assumes that before we enter into these year-or-two-long experiences we were pure and naive, maybe even innocent.
I viscerally am disgusted by that idea.

...

I, being Presbyterian (apparently), prefer the idea that I have been walking this road since before I was born. That I am who I am, and I will be who I was meant to be, and this is but one experience in a long string of experiences. I am richer for it, I am stronger for it, I am wiser for it.

I am not ruined because of it.

...

After I leave here, I will continue to stretch and grow, and think about things. I will continue to live alongside people, to address issues of poverty and injustice. I will continue to read, to question authority, to pray and to sing (badly but happily). I will love children, I will fight for families. I will keep learning to budget. I will read the news. I will laugh. I will go shopping (sometimes even at Wal-Mart, when I'm really desperate and the event is about to start). I will make things from scratch, and I will repair things that break. I will buy plastic and cheap furniture when I move into a new apartment. I will garden, and I will buy mangoes imported from across the world. I will drink tea and talk dirty with women from across the globe. I will call my friends, and be glad to hear their voice on my coltan-dependent fancy cell phone. I will be angry at the news sometimes, and I will take full advantage of my US citizenship to travel anywhere in the world (almost).

...

The world is not black and white. I am neither ruined nor pure. I reserve the right to interact with the world as myself, outside of categories or assumptions. I have been me for many years before this one. I will continue to be this person for many years to come.

Let Me Pick You A Story From Our Tree

2011-06-12T23:36:00.001-04:00

He knows my name! my friend told me while sitting in the common room.
He can say it! He told me, it means Gift in his language.
He knows my name!

And my name too! my other friend-neighbor told me
but he doesn't know what it means... but it is from his language too.
It is a name in his country.

because our country had many missionaries from Finland.
this is how we learned about God.

Many people, when they meet me, they cannot say my name, because of the j
even you, you couldn't remember our names when you met us
but he, he knows how to say our names. he knows our names.

* * *

"I was talking to my boyfriend about the pinatas. He asked if you had gone to teacher's college or something, because you were really good. I said no. It was just you."

* * *
like most days, I woke up exhausted, but I got out of bed nevertheless to go clean up from the street party. Worked a few hours, then crashed at Starbucks a few hours. A former resident had been in the ER yesterday ('ey! I saw that one who lives in my house now in the hospital, but he didn't see me), and I took her son home last night and checked in on her. Today I promised to cook her dinner, but I was dreading it all day.
I left an hour late, but picked up some chicken, ice cream and perogies from the store on the way. I cooked her some chicken rice soup (that turned into chicken rice after I served it... hmmm) and we watched two movies. I taught her son how to cook perogies (for lunch this week), and eventually left around 10pm in the best mood I've been in for a while. Life is so good.

then my journey home reminded me of why Canada is great.

As I left her rent-geared-to-income apartment complex I walked through a poorer part of downtown, unnoticed by anyone. No catcalls, no asking for change, no dirty or suspicious glances. Just people minding their own business on their own stoops or going somewhere of their own.
When I got to the subway station, I read the handwritten sign at the teller's booth. "Agent gone. Please drop your payment in the box and continue through the turnstile"
So I dropped 2.50 in the box and walked through the turnstile,
hopped on my prompt subway, transferred quickly
and was home in 20 minutes.
(and when I got off the subway at Dundas West, I realized maybe I have been in Canada too long. I did the right thing, and paid the fare even when no one was watching. Whats worse, I didn't even notice that until I had gotten home....)

Listening to Sigur Ros, imagining feeling carefree some day...

2011-06-06T19:57:00.001-04:00

Jouni and I found an amazing Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown the other day. I ordered coconut juice and almost cried when they brought me the glass. I had the best Bun (possibly ever? crazy. I know). Jouni said "I think maybe you need to go back to Fresno"

wholeheartedness

2011-05-20T21:44:00.000-04:00

I pulled this quote from a book a few Saturdays ago, and have been weighing it ever since.

The antidote to exhaustion may not be rest. It may be wholeheartedness.

Its completely counter-intuitive, and its the last thing I want someone to tell me on a low-day. But... somehow its true (when authentically enacted). I never realize it beforehand, but sometimes I stand up and realize I feel better. The solution is wholeheartedness.

This week has been long and tedious. I've been working on installing internet, which although innocent sounding, is actually a Herculean task wherein beyond every solution lies two more problems. AND, people who have never had internet before now, have realized they will have internet as soon as I solve all the problems. So they come and bug me. Every day. Multiple times a day. (and interns were included in that, until I asked them to stop). Yesterday, I restored internet to two apartments, only to take it away from the family with the most computers. I could shoot something.
I may be perfectly competent to call customer service for hours on end, and I may be perfectly computer literate. I may have ALL the necessary skills. BUT IT DRAINS MY SOUL AWAY TO CARE SO MUCH ABOUT INSTALLING INTERNET FOR WEEKS ON END.

so, its Friday. This morning, I worked on internet. This afternoon I went to an appointment in Brampton with a family. I was gone for 5 hours. I came home and cooked fajitas for dinner. I was so tired.

I came up through the back driveway to my house. I was thinking about mowing our front lawn, but before I could get to it, I saw the little girl from the basement playing in the dirt. I called her to me, and showed her how she could pull out the little oak seedlings as she played. We made little tree bouquets together and then raced to put them in the green bin. After a while, she asked me "Christine, are you ever going to cut down that long grass up there?" and I said, "Yeah. I am. Let's do it right now."
So I went and grabbed some pruning shears to attack these plants that looked like they were going to be beautiful flowers, but ended up being flailing grassy leaves that are taking over our garden. I started chopping. The girl started helping me pull out the stocks.
Soon one of the ladies from the first floor came out. "What are you doing?? Is it garden club today? I was going to take a shower, but I saw you and I came out to see what is happening"
"No, its not garden club not exactly. But you can help us if you want!"
So the lady came down and started tugging out plants too.
A little while later the small girl's mom came out too.
Soon, a lady from another house came by, because her family had been playing in the parkette. I didn't see her at first, I just heard "Christine!!! Why you is no invite me for garden club!?!?!"
I responded "Well. It was an accident. There will be a real garden club soon, but this is just an accident. it started with just me and the girl, and then it just kept getting bigger...."
"Okay. Who cares. I help you."
So then we were four grown women, pulling out crazy strong plants. We got some pitchfork action going, got the roots out of some of them (more work to come, though). We planned a party for our house, thought up what seeds to use, talked about last year, talked about plants that grow in everyone's home countries. And as it got dark, we headed inside, and washed up.

And my heart feels so much better now.

Communicating where I am...

2011-05-15T00:31:00.000-04:00

Excerpt from The Two Gretels by Robin Morgan

The two Gretels were exploring the forest.
Hansel was home,
sending up flares.

Sometimes one Gretel got afraid.
She said to the other Gretel,
"I think I'm afraid."
"Of course we are," Gretel replied.

Sometimes the other Gretel whispered,
with a shiver,
"You think we should turn back?"
To which her sister Gretel answered,
"We can't. We forgot the breadcrumbs."

So, they went forward
because
they simply couldn't imagine the way back.

http://andreaandluke.blogspot.com/2009/07/two-gretels-communion-liturgy-andrea.html

My roommate Katie shared this poem in her morning prayer on Thursday. The above link is from her country supervisor from last year, when she was living in Mexico as a YAGM volunteer. One of the things she offered in her reflection was the need to communicate clearly with your friends and family "Hansels" back at home.
We don't go home the same. And the only way home is forward. Even when people at home are sending up flares, or memories from ages past come haunt you, the only way forward is to imagine the new way. So communicate where you are now, and where it is you think you might possibly be going from here.

I am moving home to Fresno, but as an adult. The only way is forward. I'm not going to be the same that I was before I left, just like I wasn't the same when I came back from Whitworth, or home from South Africa. Its an ugly transition, you know, learning to live as your new self in an old familiar place.

And even though I dream of Fresno, of boys past, of fresh fruit, warmth and sunshine, I am older, I am stronger, I am freer. I have walked this far, and I will keep walking all my life. It is good to walk in the rain, in the sun, even in the snow sometimes. I don't know that my memory works well enough to serve as breadcrumbs, which is just as well.

* * * * *
And where am I now?

My feelings in this forest are so varied, depending on the day. This week I have been so tired, so frustrated at a family, our administrator, the freaking patriarchy in this organization, and the effing Bell internet. This week I have been really happy, and really proud of myself, I mowed the lawn of my house, I installed internet in another, I did a creative morning reflection, I danced at our fundraiser, and I saw an incredible production of Midsummer Night's Dream. I've been connected with home, with news of an interview offer, EdD acceptence, wedding-scheduling talks. I've been planning a mini vacation to NYC too. I've spent good quality time with some residents of my house, I've fed a baby, I've welcomed another baby into the world. I've connected an illiterate woman with a skilled tutor. I've introduced ELL kids to Shakespeare, and they laughed at all the right parts.
I've thought about justice. about my life. about this world. about the oscillating relevancy of politics. about Canadian politics. about Pho and Thai tea. I tasted my first slurpee of the summer. and drank a dirty chai in the rain.

whoops. do you see how easy it is to slip from feelings to actions? let's try again.
This week, I've felt lonely. I've felt loved.
I've felt admired and condemned in a red dress.
I've felt pride and anger.
I even woke up in the morning asking why in the world I have gotten out of bed every other morning that I could remember. (eventually I convinced my half-asleep self that the reason one gets out of bed is to see what it is in the day that makes it worth it... and one won't ever know unless one gets out of bed to see)
I've felt drained and then filled.
I've felt far from home, and blessed to be here.
I've felt frustrated at others, and at myself.
I've felt thankful, and I've felt loved.

Its hard to say what it is I see in you.

2011-05-09T21:39:00.002-04:00

The sun has finally come out in Toronto for THREE days in a row! AND they even happened on a weekend. I do better in sunshine. I love feeling tan, or at least a little bit darker.

My ankle is healing so much faster than I thought it would, but it still looks like a grandma with diabetes foot by the end of the day.

Here's a list of things that I find hard to do:

write honestly when I know people are actually reading what I say. That being said, I think its important that I don't post things I wouldn't want someone to read (which has happened, and exploded terribly all over the end of one summer, even though I still stand by what I said).
talk about feelings (especially ambiguous ones)
buy good gifts for my mom
get out of the house on a Sunday
e-mail friends of friends (even if the connection is already made)
get to church on a Sunday (especially alone)
talk through negative things, but stay optimistic about the big picture
engage with residents who are my companions on the weekend
take time for myself, and then return at full force
commit fully to the present here, when I know I'm leaving in a few months.

but when the sun is shining, it so much easier to trust that it will all work out in the end. So much easier to realize I have so much more than enough here.

Today I spent mostly waiting for a doctor in various waiting rooms, because a thirteen year old companion of mine broke their foot playing soccer on Friday. Separately, I also had physiotherapy for my own ankle at the hospital we ended up in the emergency room of later. I got back from the hospital at 7pm (where at the end of the day, they had done nothing for this kid, except give us a 7am appointment the next morning in the Fracture Clinic). Then I ate a bit of dinner, and sat in the rooftop garden with two interns. We talked a bit, which is always therapeutic, but mostly we just WERE. Sitting with our faces towards the setting sun, together, and then my soul is replenished.

After they left, I weeded the garden a bit, and did some physio excercises on the trampoline up there.

I am thankful to be here. It is good to be here. Even when I am exhausted and frustrated and really hungry in a waiting room. Even when residents are complete and total bitches to our faces or behind our backs. Even when nothing happens the way it was said in the morning meeting.

It is good to live with people. It is not good to be alone.

It is good to hear a happy girl clapping and singing early in the morning. and to hear loud shouts of GOOOOOAAALLLL!!!

It is good to bike from house to house, and to connect people who need help with those who can provide it. Its even better to facilitate the beginning of friendships.

It is good to walk in your neighborhood, or local park, to nap in the grass, and to hear a young girl say to her mother "but mommy.... where are you going? its so BEAUtiful here...."

It is good to finally get exercise, to have your heart pump before your ankle throbs.

It is good to be single. To be free and open and perfectly complete. To have no worries of babies or pregnancy.

It is good to be surrounded by interns. and then surrounded by adoptive aunties, mothers, sisters, friends. To trust and be trusted with each others lives, stories, children.

(i who have died am alive again today,and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gaygreat happening illimitably earth)
-ee cummings

"Go ahead and live your life.You might be surprised. The world might continue."-Gwendolyn Brooks

Blog of Lists

2011-05-03T23:44:00.001-04:00

5 Beautiful Things I will take with me from the Catholic influence here

RETREATS! retreats are the best, and help everything. I've taken one personal retreat and two intern retreats. essential practice for the rest of my life.
greater appreciation for the Psalms, and their incredibly poetry. It amazes me a little bit how we can read the same Psalms every month and every so often a line or a few words will pop out at me in a totally new way
the Canticle of Zechariah (blessed are you God of Israel for you have visited and redeemed your people. and have raised up a horn of salvation in the house of your servant). what its all about. in a nutshell.
...appreciation of Jesuits... whoops.
Mary Jo's steadiness of presence. Her whole-life commitment to Being With people.

4 Things I learned that I do

even with a good attitude, and awareness that others depend on my attention to detail, I still really don't like dishes
i'm not good at branching out and meeting total strangers in a new city. i think that I'd like to have multiple friend circles, but I don't actually make the effort to attend awkward things like book clubs or yoga classes at the library...
communicate well with people with limited to no english. (if they let it happen)... before I thought it was a skill that everyone who worked with refugees had... not so, i have discovered
i am utterly dependent on the internet for my sense of stability and place in the world. I stay up too late on the internet and then don't function in the mornings.... regularly.

5 bookmarks I depend on:

other places I want to try to be in the world:

Thailand/Laos*
Slovakia/Eastern Europe*
North Africa
East Africa
Amsterdam/anywhere in the Netherlands/Geneva/Brussels**
Turkey
Kerala
Forced Migration Studies department at Wits in South Africa. Also Cape Town**

(**and/or attempt living in)

1 place that I daydream about regularly:

Fresno

94 days

2011-04-28T22:26:00.000-04:00

I am tired. Its the time of year when I seem to get tired. I am so ready for the clouds to part and the sun to shine through.

Mother Theresa says, do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired.

I'm not quite sure how thats supposed to happen.

Somehow when you/I/one first start a project, its so exciting. Meeting new people, learning a new system, trying and even failing. Slowly, it becomes easier, less overwhelming, until one day it is completely and entirely ordinary. People are people, who you know, and who know you. There aren't really surprises, because even if a new circumstance comes up, you already know how each person is going to respond, and who you need to call to sort it out. Some people complain about everything. Some people freak out like the world is ending (and always need some small crisis to be solved)... maybe so they can feel like they're making progress in the midst of the incredibly infuriating long wait.

I live with people who are waiting to be heard. They are waiting for a hearing, so that they can learn if the government of Canada is willing to accept their story, and willing to let them stay in Canada. A family could wait two years for a hearing, then wait three months for a letter, (and if they're not accepted, wait a few weeks for the next last-chance application to try to stay). And if all that fails? They go back. They're deported.

If it works however, these fragile (sometimes annoying) people can trust the world again. They can slowly become more fully human, more fully present. They can live, fully. not waiting any longer.

I haven't figured out a good response yet, when someone asks me if they are going to be accepted or not. I tell them I don't know. Even though I have heard their story over coffee or jack daniels. Even though I have seen how their children can't sleep at night without nightmares. Even though I have watched them conquer so much in their time here. Even though I believe that every inch of their humanity is valid and wholly worthy of protection. I don't know if Canada is their new home, or if they'll be sent back.

I am tired of not knowing. I am tired of bearing stories and expecting them to not be accepted. The political climate of Canada is so conservative these days, and the refugee board that hears the cases is more and more highly politicized.

I work with a lot of Roma(ni) these days, gypsies (zigan/cegan) in common derogatory terms. I can't believe the shit that these kids have gone through in their schools. I can't believe the shit their parents went through, or their grandparents. (Did you know that the Roma were killed off alongside the Jews in the Holocaust? sometimes just gunned down in killing fields, as to not waste the resources expended by transporting them to gas chambers?). There's limited evidence that people bring with them of systemic discrimination. police brutality and roaming masked mobs. people marching and chanting "death to the criminals: the jews the gypsies and the homosexuals."

And yet, today I was reading al-Jazeera, and I saw an appealing picture. It was a face, vaguely Asian, but I didn't read the headline next to it. I clicked through to find a beautiful slideshow of Hmong faces in Vietnam. I listened to the first seven minutes of the accompanying documentary about the difficulties around infant mortality and cross-cultural understanding between the Hmong and Vietnamese. The Hmong are compassionately portrayed as misled pagans with disfunctional traditions. And yet, when I think of Hmong, I think of the incredible strength, vitality, flexibility and beauty of the diaspora community in Fresno and every US city I've spent much time in. And then I remember how silly it can be to box people in, by culture, by poverty, by any form of statistical expectation. I have agency. The people with whom I live have agency. The world is dynamic, just like the relationships I have here, just like the IRB. I can go ahead and live my life, the world just might continue. I can help in real ways, I can love in real ways, but in the end, I am just a small tiny piece of each child's whole life. Each adult who I talk with, or help with something, has agency over her/his life and family. I have a role to play, but it is not to decide.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way.... We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own ~ prayer attributed to Oscar Romero.

Example of Feeling Protestant

2011-04-23T20:22:00.001-04:00

I've told a few people (including our Jesuit chaplain Jack, whoops) that being at Romero House has made me realize how Protestant I am... and furthermore how much I appreciate my Presbyterian (and *gasp of all gasps* evangelical) roots. For the litany of reasons, I would need another post, but the following event happened a few days ago, and it was the perfect example of how sometimes I get so confused because I don't get the signals, or don't understand whats going on, or what I'm supposed to do, because I'm SO not Catholic. It also demonstrates how I think that the ceremonies and traditions are more fluid than a strict liturgical calendar would let them be. (In fairness, I really appreciate a lot of things that I've learned about Catholic traditions and worldview and commitment to social justice, yet another unwritten post...)

On the Thursday before Good Friday, all the interns gathered for a special "Maundy Thursday" supper. We were apparently recreating the last supper, with unleavened naan and red wine... and chicken and red beets. Before we ate, however, we gathered in the intern common room for a washing of feet. Before the actual washing of feet, our director read a rather long reflection on this painting by Sieger Koder (but I didn't have my glasses, so I couldn't actually focus on the painting at all... )
Then she removed one shoe and sock, and our founder quietly poured water over her one foot and then wiped it off with a towel. Our director then washed/splashed one foot of the guy sitting next to her, who then splashed and wiped the foot of a girl who then solemnly splashed and wiped my foot. I continued the pattern, and on it went. (may i point out at no point in time were there any verbal instructions on what we were supposed to do)

Afterwards, I asked the intern next to me (who grew up Catholic, but no longer affiliates herself with that) "...so... is the one foot thing being considerate because I have a cast on one of my feet? or is it a catholic thing? or like for efficiency or something?"
she thought for a bit. "umm I don't know... i think the only other time I had my feet washed, it was only one foot too. it must be a Catholic thing, but I would ask MJ to be sure"

So over dinner, we ask our Indian intern about what its like in Kerala. He explains that the priest washes the feet of twelve selected members of the parish and then kisses them, and other traditions to which the Catholic members of our group nod and smile.

Coming from the most "evangelical" or perhaps being the most vocally noncatholic background, our director asked me, "have you ever had your feet washed before". and I said "yeah, definitely, at like camps, or service retreats, but never in connection with the last supper", which I don't think was the expected answer.

and that right there kind of summarizes why I like coming from a tradition that is not so strictly traditionalist. We don't read the same thing on the same day every three years. We don't have (as many) specific rituals attached to specific days. We do things that feel right, that have a biblical base, when it makes sense for the context. My favorite memory of foot washing happened at a camp. After a long day of hiking towards the end of a week at camp, each cabin found a private location and the leader (me) started washing one of the girls feet. The other girls stood around her and gave positive examples of the girl who was being washed having been a servant leader throughout the week. The girl with two clean feet then washed the feet of the next girl. To me, that more wholly represents what John 13 says what Jesus wanted his disciples to do than a ritual where water is symbolically poured and no ones foot is actually cleaned.

sidenote- i feel the same way about communion/eucharist: bread and wine were what was on the table, what was common when eating, not some sacred substance [although there are special foods for passover, i know. but we all do communion/eucharist monthly or weekly anyways, so we're already breaking from the direct text.... ] It didn't have to be led or blessed by some ordained person. i think what jesus was saying was, when you eat together in community, think of me. i am there too....
Hence, i've had communion with a limited number of skittles shared gracefully, and also with tortillas and cranberry juice. neither time was anyone ordained saying any fancy words. but i'll attest and those kids did too, that the holy spirit was there in the middle of that. even with the closest priest miles away.

PS: After dinner, I asked our director about the one-foot thing, and she laughed and told me that it was simply out of consideration of me only having one foot available. which is sweet. but then i asked another intern, and he said that he's seen both.
so i still don't get it....

2011-04-19T22:04:00.000-04:00

Voice of the Day: T.S. Eliot

04-19-2011

“In order to arrive at what you do not know

You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

In order to possess what you do not possess

You must go by the way of dispossession.

In order to arrive at what you are not

You must go through the way in which you are not.

And what you do not know is the only thing you know

And what you own is what you do not own

And where you are is where you are not.”

- T.S. Eliot, from his poem “East Coker”

Verse of the Day: Love in Truth and Action

02-11-2011

"Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action."

- 1 John 3:18

Voice of the Day: Enuma Okoro

02-03-2011

“And the work of God is rarely dull, but it’s not always necessarily what we think. Transformation is hard stuff. Seeking to bring about the kingdom of God — caring for the poor, feeding the hungry, visiting prisoners, caring for the sick, renouncing demons in God’s name — you don’t do that in a 15-minute lunch break.”

- Enuma Okoro

questions that break me (when i get older, i will be stronger)

2011-04-06T18:38:00.004-04:00

A new family has moved in. The youngest is nine, and she speaks five languages. They have just come from two years in a Nordic country, and are beginning from nothing once again. They are Roma(ni) from Eastern Europe. They are sweet, funny, and full of laughter alongside of concerns.

Today after starting the school registration process, we sat around their kitchen table and drank strong coffee. After two years of English classes in a foreign European country, the daughters (9 and 11) are conversant, and very interested in who my girl best friend and my boy best friends are. We talk about movies, actors, popular music, and greetings in different languages.

Then after a while, one of the girls began a conversation that I have heard too many times before. "Christina. you are very white."

"yes. yes I am. My skin is very light, especially in winter." She lifts my arm to hold it next to hers.

"You are more white than me" (she is maybe two shades darker than me)

"You are way more white than me" -says her younger sister E (who is caramel-colored with dark hair and eyes, and truly adorable/beautiful)

"Yes, my skin is lighter than yours. but in summer, I will try very hard to get darker skin. I wish that I had skin like yours, E".

"no." -E

"Yeah! its true. Every summer, my friends who are light like me, we lay outside for hours and hours and hours, and we try SO hard to have dark skin. We think it is very beautiful"

"No. it is not beautiful to be black like me". -E

...

and then my heart breaks a little bit.

...

later, we're discussing K'Naan (the waving flag song dude, who was a Somali refugee as a child, and grew up in Toronto).

"is he your boyfriend?" -A

"no. but I wish he was! I've never met him before" -me

"but, do you know his mother?" -E

"no, I've never met his mother" -me

"You should tell him he is your boyfriend" -E

"yeah! I should call him in the phone and tell him, hey! no more girlfriends for you! only me! okay K'naan?" -me, and we all laugh

"...but Christina... he is African?" -A

"yeah, he comes from Somalia, which is in Africa"

"So he is black then?" (A has a seriously concerned look on her face)

"Yeah. he is."

"but he is black..." -A

"Yeah. thats okay with me"

"Is he black like me?" (asks E, a caramel-colored beautiful girl)

"no, he is much darker than you"

"is he black like my dad?" (a slightly darker caramel-colored man)

"no, he is darker than your dad. He's from Africa, so his skin color is like Joy's (their West African neighbor downstairs)"

"You would have a boyfriend who is black like Joy????"

...

My roommate who grew up abroad, went to high school in Chicago, and university in Canada told me in September that Canadians don't really believe in racism... At a museum recently, an intern told me that kids don't think about race. That its only adults that care about race. I told them that one of our kids insulted another by saying "you are too dark like emmanuel (a boy from Nigeria)".

...

Thoughts on talking to kids about the differences between people, and not judging or hating?? loving the skin they are in? not wanting to be white like me? not seeing blackness as something repellent? thoughts on not denying the reality of race and racism in the world but giving them tools and paradigms to avoid soaking it all in?

...

The girls also asked me who I hate. and if they would get hit when they went to school.

Self-centred universe?

2011-03-15T17:06:00.006-04:00

In her upcoming book, Mary Jo Leddy, (Romero House Founder), writes on the empire of self that as Americans (she sees Canada as a colony of the US) have grown up knowing as reality. We believe that the world revolves around our country, our media, and by extension, our God, our perception and knowings of God, and even our personal lives. Everyone here lives in a self-centered world. She even points to Christian self-help devotionals that say before we can help anyone or do external works, we must know ourselves, as examples of the self-centered world. Her solution to this problem is to encounter the stranger, and welcome the stranger. When she helps people currently seen as refugees, she is pulled outside herself to serve, and then (hopefully) be transformed in the encounter.

...

All of which, I would generally agree with, even before I read her second chapter this afternoon.

I fullheartedly agree with the radical proposition of Isaiah 58:6-8, that if we work for justice, our own wounds will heal. our own redemption will come.

...

And yet, I am currently bound in my room with books and a computer. In my whole theory of giving up independence for Lent, I still remain in the centre of my newly constructed world. Where is the Lenten transformation in that? In the paradigm I've been working from (pre broken ankle), in order to extend beyond myself, I would need to do something. I would be the one "not hiding from relatives that need my help" and "sharing my food with the hungry". In that version of the paradigm, I am unable to perform those acts, and thus am unable to receive the salvation that comes with the dawn. I am living in a self-centred world. I am the centre of my space. People only come here to be with me. I will not encounter strangers here, I don't think.

...

The solution I think, is to be open to seeing old people in strange ways, to welcoming the new dependent relationships. I need to be open to the possibility that the intern with whom I most often butt heads might be the one who visits me most consistently, who calls to check in daily. The culture that informs the interesting communication among our team is also dictating care and concern for me.

I need to be open to receiving the care and concern that my housemates offer. In redefining our roles to one another, my self should be open to be altered.

I need to be open to the possibility that I can accept gracefully whatever is given to me. I must trust that the godliness and salvation offered by Isaiah in the interchange are given communally, and that grace has many guises (most of which are quite humbling).

I do not earn love or favor, redemption or righteousness. I ought to exist beloved. Nouwen says I am God's Beloved.

On Observing Lent for the first time...

2011-03-09T16:36:00.000-05:00

So what is LENT?
At Jesus' baptism the sky split open, the Spirit of God, which looked like a dove, descended and landed on Jesus, and a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, My Beloved, with whom I am pleased." Afterward, as told in Matthew 4:1-11, Jesus was sent into the wilderness by the Spirit. Where he fasted and prayed for 40 days. During his time there he was tempted by Satan and found clarity and strength to resist temptation. Afterwards, he was ready to begin his ministry.
(Speculation)
Maybe Jesus needed some time with God to sort through the major changes happening in his life. Maybe needed to get away from family, friends and the familiar routine in order to see God (and himself) more clearly. Perhaps he wanted some intentional time with God as he searched for direction and answers like you. Like Jesus, we may need to take some serious time to pray and listen for God.

(http://www.upperroom.org/methodx/thelife/articles/lent101.asp)

* * * * * *

Lent is coinciding with my mandatory bed rest. I'm taking it as an opportunity to think about things. I haven't decided exactly what merits so much thought, but its quite possible that my leg will be in a cast for at least the 40 days from Lent, so I guess that its a good opportunity to give up independence for Lent. Instead of all the things that keep me busy, keep me happy, keep me connected, I'll be dependent on new people, on new things. I'm trying to be positive here and frame it as a spiritual practice to keep me from going stir-crazy.

One would think that independence would naturally be curtailed by living in community. To a certain extent, it is. My life is definitely defined by living on $150 a month, by living with the people I work with/for, by not being able to afford a cell phone. However, I would say that prior to this year, I wasn't dependent on money, my friends, or my cell phone. Being here has perhaps grown that independence, but it was definitely already present. When I was in my terrible twos, my favorite thing to say was "NO! Neeny do it self!". I didn't like people helping me when I was perfectly capable of doing something (or figuring out how to do something) on my own. I don't like being dependent on money, on people, on technology. I like standing alone on a street corner and walking to wherever I want to go. Sitting in a park. Being in a coffee shop thinking my own thoughts until I'm ready to go to the next place. I like planning events, and telling other people what to do, organizing community so that everyone is included.

But now, I've gone off and broken my fibula. I'm stuck in bed until the swelling goes down significantly, and then I'll still be in a cast after that. A cast that can't get wet, that can't rest on hard surfaces. Like it or not, there are a lot of things that I am physically not capable of doing on my own. I might be able to figure out a creative way to make things happen, but I'm currently feeling the effects of trying too hard the three days before I got my cast. So for now at least, I'm being uncreative, and I'm lying helpless in bed. For the next week.

I am dependent for meals, I am dependent for interaction with real people, I am dependent for help going anywhere other than the bathroom and the kitchen next door. I have one leg that I can hop on.

And yet, it is good to be dependent on my community. I know that they will probably get tired of me, and I know that everyone else has such busy lives. For now though, I am incredibly thankful for the three phone calls a day I get from one intern. I am thankful for the friend who visited for an hour this afternoon. I am thankful for my six year old neighbor who came and brought me a little creme cake think (ala Twinkie but flat), and her two favorite dolls to keep my company while she is in school tomorrow. I am thankful for my mama and my daddy. and I am SO thankful for facebook connections and best friend messages.

* * * * * *

Lent is the perfect season of the year for solitude and self-reflection. As we spiritually journey into the desert, Lent is a time to reexamine our boundary lines and get realigned, set in right relationship with God and the world around us.

http://www.upperroom.org/methodx/thelife/articles/lentsimplicity.asp

* * * * * *

I apparently will spend a bit of time in solitude and self-reflection. I think it might be healthy for me to get realigned with the adult me, figure out where I stand (lay? recline? hobble?) with God and the world. (sidenote: I think the Catholic influence here has gotten me into the Christ-above-culture paradigm in terms of how I think of God. i kinda like it.)

I ought not be afraid of time alone. I ought not be too busy Doing Things to take a step back and think about Being someone, and Thinking Things (that can't be real, at least not at this point in time). I think that I need to engage in the abstract world, as something real too. Because at least for now, I can't really engage fully in the physical world here as much as I could with two working legs.

Or maybe its a time to engage with this community in different ways. Encouraging people? Asking for a Spanish tutor? Appreciating the giftedness, love, and steadiness of all the residents who care for me.

I don't want to shy away from theology either. Although I feel quite nervous looking it straight in the face and pronouncing opinions. I am a bit shy post-Whitworth, but RH conversations keep the thoughts flowing. Maybe its time to put some out on "paper". ...its just that I prefer living my convictions so much more than entering into any kind of silly debate... anyways. If I'm to take Lent seriously, and dig for some deeper profound meaning in my bed-rest time, I think it ought to include God. somehow. and I think I ought not be shy about trying to extrapolate what it is that I've actually learned, and how (if at all) I'm actively changing, and growing.

I think I still am the luckiest girl in the world. This could be the best place to be stuck in a cast that I've been to yet. I think that it will all be okay in the end. :)

On Being Blessed by a Broken Fibula

2011-03-07T17:32:00.003-05:00

I've known for a while that I live in the best house at Romero House. The past few days have solidified the proof. On Saturday evening on my way to grab some food at Wanda, I put on flip-flops because it was raining, and I love walking in flipflops in the rain... If only I had gotten that far...

Somehow I slipped on the steps going down my front porch, and caught one foots flipflop with my other foot, and stretched and spun my right ankle in all sorts of painful directions. After a brief string of expletives, I threw my books and movie (that I had been carrying) onto the porch, and slowly crawled up the stairs. I hobbled to the door and rang it until one of my neighbor-friend-ladies answered it, and helped me in. The two friends from the first floor ran around, found me ice, tylenol, and entertained me with stories of their sprained ankles and backs for a couple hours.

Intern Thomas came a while later and looked at my injury. We decided together that it was probably just a sprain, and it wasn't worth the wait at the ER.

My ankle swelled bigger and bigger, and we watched cheesy W-channel movies. That night, Thomas and I hobbled up the stairs. He held my leg up in the air, and I clung to the banister with one hand and his back with my other, and I hopped. boy did I hop. I hopped up two flights of stairs into my bed, and slept soundly until the morning. The next day I read in bed, ate delicious cereal, and then was brought breakfast in bed: potato pancake, and toast/ham/egg sandwich.

Basically, I've spent my time with my leg elevated on pillows, reading good books, and eating good food that all these different people have brought me. My leg doesn't really hurt, unless I try to put weight on it, and I hop real good now.

I'm so blessed by all these wonderful people in my community. What more could I want?

I went to the ER this morning, driven by my roommate, and hung out there a couple hours waiting for xrays to be ordered/taken. Then, I took my crutches and made my way sweating to the other wing of the hospital, up the elevator, to meet my newest housemate: CAROLINA!!! she was born while I was sitting in the "fast-track" waiting room, at 11:24am today, weighing 2,8 kilograms, around 6 lbs.

I went back downstairs, talked to my lovely med school student who told me, yes, indeed, I had a broken fibula, and she took me over to the "fracture clinic" where I waited 45 minutes, and then asked how much longer, and was told 3-4 hours, to which I said "dang.", then the nice lady offered me a 7am appointment the next morning, telling me to come at 6:30, and then I'll be seen right away.

So, now I'm chilling at home, eating the delicious salami sandwich, amazing chicken/hominy Mexican soup, and hearty beef/noodle Slovakian soup, and chamomile tea made by someone else, and my director just called to see if she could bring anything over for me.

life is good.

in mj's words: what more can my jesus do for me today? lol

2011-03-06T20:52:00.001-05:00

The world of Romero is quite all-encompassing. Since deciding to go home to Fresno, I've been off and on elated, but more than anything I've felt at peace. I know that its not for forever, but more than that, I know that I can trust my gut to know where I ought to go next with my life. I don't feel trapped by any form of long-term commitment, other than to promise to myself to continue to get my ass out of the boat when I feel a call to do something crazy.

A baby is being born tomorrow at my house; she will be born to a compassionate family overflowing in grace and calm. They have spent today together. Our house has thin walls, ceilings, floors, and a beautiful staircase that echoes everything said on any floor. Today my friends have laughed a lot, their daughter has sung, their son almost died from laughing in an intense tickling/wrestling match. I was supposed to be there tomorrow, in the OR for my friends caesarian. her husband is afraid that something will go wrong, and they won't remember how to speak English. I want to be there.

I am instead, planning to be getting my ankle x-rayed, because i appear to have badly sprained it, or possibly broken it. If I wake up in the morning, and I can get myself down the stairs, I think I'm just going to go to the ER. The weekend has been spent with various untrained coworkers looking at my ankle and deciding it doesn't look like it merits hours on end in an ER. I have been wavering on the subject, and have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I haven't insisted on anything. The other option is waiting until the walk-in clinic is open at 10:30 (or later? we don't know) and missing the whole thing at the hospital!

isaiah i love you

2011-02-07T22:06:00.000-05:00

Isaiah 58:7-12
“No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you.
Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people.
Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless.
Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help.
Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal.
Your godliness will lead you forward, and the glory of the Lord will protect you from behind.
Then when you call, the Lord will answer. ‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.

Remove the heavy yoke of oppression. Stop pointing your finger and spreading vicious rumors!
Feed the hungry, and help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon.
The Lord will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength.
You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring.
Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities.
Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls and a restorer of homes.

I haven't intentionally preached on the internet for a while, but I was inspired by Sharon's sermon at UPC on Sunday, and the stories from the Laos trip.

I am transfixed by the idea that by Living out Justice, we are healed. That it has nothing to do with how religious we think that we behave, what vocabulary we use, or what church we go to (or don't). It has everything to do with restoring humanity to one another: freeing the oppressed, sharing the dignity of food with people who are hungry, creating homes for/with people who have lost everything. Then, as sure as the sun rising every morning, THEN will our own redemption come.

And, somehow, this Christian faith claims, that in the midst of all the struggle and the pain, and the hurt, in this dehumanized isolated world, then all the sudden our lives will become clear. We will be restored when we are tired. We will become ever flowing, by entering into the most draining relationships. Isn't that ridiculous? and beautiful?

(I love The Message's Version too)

If you are generous with the hungry
and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out,
Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness,
your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight.
I will always show you where to go.
I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
firm muscles, strong bones.
You'll be like a well-watered garden,
a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You'll be known as those who can fix anything,
restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
make the community livable again

I am the luckiest girl in the world, sometimes. I get to live and work in this community at Romero House, and I get to see how these people LIVE that. I get to see lives made new, old ruins of tortured bodies renewed into full human beings (capable of giving and receiving love). I live in a community full of life, comprised of people who are defined by their individualized persecution and threatened status. People who have been rejected and attacked by their governments, paramilitary groups, husbands, and neighbors come together in this place, and create a livable community. And this brings me so much life. I am healed by their redemption. We give and receive one anothers gifts, and then, we are individually and communally healed.

Hey guess what y'all? I'm comin home to Fresno.

Why? because of Egypt. because of people doing what is right for their families and their neighbors. because of Christians guarding their Muslim brothers during prayer. because of nonviolence (mostly), and democracy in action.

because I listened to Sharon's sermon (heard here), and because there is so much love and strength in my home. And its my turn to be with the people whom i claim in my blood.

Decision made! (I think)

2011-02-03T13:18:00.000-05:00

When I think about Egypt. When I pour over the news, and listen to al-Jazeera, when I read the letter sent my Katie's friend (evacuated from Cairo), I want to go home.
I want to ally myself with what is happening there.
I want to stand with the people who claim me.
This I claim is true.
I feel selfish to stay here. I feel like I am living the Life of luxury.
I feel called home. I have visions of Fresno, of community, of kids laughing and reading.
I feel called to Southeast Asia, to see where those of my people come from. (In Jean Vanier's sense)

"'My people are my community, which is both the small community, those who live together, and the larger community which surrounds it and for which it is there. 'My people' are those who are written in my flesh as I am in theirs. Whether we are near each other or far away, my brothers and sisters remain written within me. I carry them, and they, me; we recognise each other again when we meet. To call them 'my people' doesn't mean that I feel superior to them, or that I am their shepherd or that I look after them. It means that they are mine as I am theirs. There is a solidarity between us. What touches them, touches me. And when I say 'my people', I don't imply that there are others I reject. My people is my community, made up of those who know me and carry me. They are a springboard towards all humanity. I cannot be a universal brother or sister unless I first love my people. (Community and Growth. p 16-17)

To remain here, would mean continuing to live community, to continue to learn through struggle and strife how to live together with human beings. To move home, the meaning of community is less distinct. It is no longer 6 interns, supporting and loving a larger community of 40 people, who inspire and encourage countless others, refugee, immigrant, Permanent Resident, citizen alike. It would be more of a conscious effort for me to recognize and encourage my relationships with people less physically present in every moment of my life.

It would be incredibly good for my soul to stay here. It would be good for my resume, it would be good for my relationships here.

I know all that, and yet, I feel like I need to say yes to the even more ultimate unknown. I need to say yes to Fresno, to the possibility that I can still by myself and still grow in community, still grow as a Human Being. That Fresno has the same potential as Romero House(if not more) of being good for my soul.
I am young, but I will grow strong. I can be more, and I want to step out of the boat into the Valley where I haven't lived in ages.

I'm excited about the possibilities. There are always possibilities.

..somehow i had forgotten...

2011-01-17T16:57:00.000-05:00

...how much Martin Luther King talked about God/Jesus/the Church right alongside those often quoted statements of Justice/Love/Nonviolence.

This is the actual context of one of my favorite quotes of his... I enlarged the part of the quote I remembered hearing... (Its from a sermon "Transformed Nonconformist" included in the book Strength to Love)

We need to recapture the gospel glow of the early Christians who were nonconformist in the truest sense of the word and refused to shape their witness according to the mundane patterns of the world. Willingly they sacrificed fame, fortune, and life itself in behalf of a cause they knew to be right. Quantitatively small, they were qualitatively giants. Their powerful gospel put an end to such barbaric evils as infanticide and bloody gladiatorial contests...
Gradually, however, the church became so entrenched in wealth and prestige that it began to dilute the strong demands of the gospel and to conform to the ways of the world. And ever since, the church has been a weak and ineffectual trumpet making uncertain sounds. If the church of Jesus Christ is to regain once more its power, message and authentic ring, it must conform only to the demands of the gospel. The hope of a secure and livable world lies with disciplined nonconformists who are dedicated to justice, peace, and brotherhood.

Its a slightly different message... full of a wider Truth, but also much stricter.

And in honor of the great man slain, here's another quote (full of hope)

“When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

2011-01-14T16:13:00.000-05:00

But let us remember that Christ became a person of his people, of his time;
he lived as a Jew; he labored as a worker in Nazareth;
and ever since, he is made flesh in all people.
If many have moved away from the church, it is precisely because the church has been a little alienated from humanity.
But a church that would feel as its own all that is human,
and would wish to incarnate within itself
the sorrow, hope and anguish
of all who suffer and rejoice
that church would be Christ
loved and awaited,
Christ present
And that depends on us.

Archbishop Oscar Romero
3 December 1978

2011-01-13T22:11:00.000-05:00

lives in community, this she knows.
for the clean oven tells us so.
lots of fish fat fell below,
and then got burnt while dinner she cooked.
YES, she made a big mess.
yes, oven cleaner smells bad.
yes, she lives in community:
the clean oven tells us so.

...

I'm trying to get words out, so that I can move forward in my life here. Its been weirder than expected being back. Maybe it was all the reminders of how beautiful life can be in Fresno, or maybe its just nice traveling somewhere new. Maybe its the new plans that started to fill my head after that Fresno-Walmart sadness. I am the luckiest girl in the world to be able to work/live here. i love the people. I love the style of job and way of being here. But, I've started plotting my great move west, and all the sudden, I actually have to live here with real human beings, who are a lot less exciting than how I was remembering them.

and this is love, yes? the inane everything that we claim has some hidden beauty. the celebrations over snow forts and ghosts in my unoccupied room. Huddling under blankets watching a movie. being asked about my mom and my brother only because I exist and have them. writing silly lyrics to a song and hiding them under the microwave. two year olds that remember our faces and where we sit in the office while we were gone. another family accepted as convention refugees. staying up late chatting with a sleeping low-grade fevered child and worried parents. someone else doing the dishes when i cook. (doing someone elses dishes when they cook).

the alternate reality of a kingdom come.

(today i referenced a phone call I thought I had received 2-3 days prior. it turns out it had happened only yesterday...)

2011-01-11T19:27:00.000-05:00

And suddenly, I am back in Toronto.

At first overjoyed, I spent a long time rearranging my room, hoping it would feel again like home. Like the next episode of my big adult adventure of: Living Life Anywhere I Want. Neeny Do It Self.

And I am remembering the not so exciting things. The people that annoy me. The ungracious parts of my personality. (we can only learn love through community, especially from the parts where we fail at love)

I am in love with some ideal of Fresno, and now I am here. I am good at my job here. People like me here. I have some incredible friendships here.

2011-01-03T15:26:00.001-05:00

Here the trees grow thick, retire with dignity.

Winter floods us with precious water, and we dance outside

barefoot, without freezing.

The sun streams through the window and I am warm under covers,

dreaming of an ideal that slips through my bloodstream on its own accord

if i focus in, the vision escapes my grasp. and blurs.

i want to write a poem about the dirt that grew us.

The people of the valley, passionate and stubborn,

the activists who taught us, the films on walk-outs and choices.

the teachers who raised us, educated us to speak kindly. speak out.

our parents who sent us Elsewhere to get A Good Education.

how now do i live?

THE PLAN:

2011-01-02T23:07:00.000-05:00

Step 1: refuse to feel guilty for any and all actions committed in Fresno this Christmas Break (even if Whitworth-era conversations trigger other responses).

step 1.5: be gracious towards Whitworth and choose to see the positive sides to why i froze my ass off for four years when I could have been having crazy mindless fun on a beach while still pursuing my activist, passionate future self. (step 1.9, examine that false dichotomy a little more closely to see its inconsistencies. also, don't project someone elses life into your own reality)

Step 2: actually share MY PLAN without distracting myself on a rant

Step 3: Return to Romero House, to complete a full year of beautiful community. continue learning about the system there, and how to live as a holistic calm strong woman-being.

Step 4: Return home (maybe after weasling an invite to Camp Romero, it looks way too fun to miss).

Step 5: Get a part time job coordinating an afterschool program, hopefully with some of the FIRM kids. Otherwise, substitute teach, and stay connected to refugee communities in the Valley. part-time jobs only!!!!

Step 6: Investigate grad schools with all sorts of dedication (just like Bean). Look for programs like UCLA's polisci program Race, Ethnicity and Politics. Anything that looks at identity, migration, and is open to community-based research. Visiting said schools. Asking lots of questions. Finding so many options for myself.

Step 7: Live and love in this state. Pay attention to the local issues, state issues. Network.

Step 8: Apply to at least seven interesting programs. Sit around and wait for their responses in a place that has real fruit and beautiful green winters (despite the rain)

Step 9: Make an informed decision about my own future. Don't limit myself to what I think is feasible or realistic. Take all the damn tests. Pay all the damn application fees. Jump through the stupid hoops.

Step 9: go to some school!

...

in the meantime. live a blessed life that sees the alternative ultimate reality. see the abundance of goodness and grace.

a momentous decade

2010-12-31T15:01:00.000-05:00

well, the decade is leaving us.

in the year two thousand, i graduated sixth grade from Manchester GATE. I learned to be compassionate to people being bullied through the guilt of not being punished. There was a strained trip to New York and DC in there too.

in the year two thousand and one, my dad disappeared on NYE after cutting the zero in half to become a one in the jello mold. he said something about a dog...

in 2002, i graduated Computech. having rode the bus with Gillian Lynn for the past two years. best friendship cemented. for life. (other CT highlights: drama with McA, learning German, science 9).

same year at Roosevelt: i starred in a play that was another way my life could have been. i saw a counselor we derisively called Yoda. K ate ly n B owe n and I thought that Travis as Curly was the most exciting beautiful role there ever could be. McKenna.

2003, logan grew taller than me, and we mimed an incredible sword fight in theatre movements. i started water polo, went to camp, cried my way through a wedding, and thoroughly hated physics. christmas and new years. also did props for Anything Goes. caught a boy named josh's eye.

2004, probably the worst year of my life. did the YL thing. also: enjoyed crewing Footlight Frenzy

2005, seven brides set: designed. hush lights: designed. appt with death set: designed. awful push-ups. fricken koch. quit theatre (according to my mama)

2006: right around NYE got with Stu. found some outside happiness, peace, adventures. began to believe i was worthy of being loved. hey thats cool. stopped the theatre thing. won a medal or two for AD finally. drove my mom mad. went far away to Whitworth. flew home monthly. was loved.

2007: african life and culture. did the heart break thing. kept going to classes. didn't find whitworth as different as expected. tried to save people who didn't want to be saved.

2008: went to Vancouver, met a MUN family. worst dating decision ever. no self-esteem/respect. made confession in a parking lot, learned i wasn't the only one like me around. Houseless Challenge. initial interning at FIRM. one great Global Hearth semeter.

2009: little moment by a river side. hopped on a plane to South Africa. Lived. felt broken. drank. lived more. roadtrips, beautiful places. learned about friendships. and loved me some grade 7 students. came home. More FIRM support and loving. started my last cynical Whitworth year. Saw a tall boy striding across the Hello Walk. attempted seduction to said almost oblivious Finnish boy for a good semester. lived with my MUN family. was grateful. took 3 beautiful intl students home with me.

2010: Jouni. Jouni. jouni. california. drove. beauty. peace. calm. spokane. crazy busy. learned to communicate in a beautiful friendship. went to church and listened, cried. graduated! loved FIRM some more. best wedding in Texas. went to Europe. realized with perfect clarity that boy and I were not for one another. lived and loved in this Fresno place. Moved to Toronto. lived and loved in Romero House. at Christmas, began plotting my grand return home to my roots. my fourteen-year-old inner self's dreams came true. my 22 year old self was damn pleased, and happy to be a free independent competent woman.

good decade all in all.

i'm glad to be here.

Dignity. and receiving gifts gracefully.

2010-11-23T23:51:00.000-05:00

Today I went with a woman to a food bank. because November is hard, and so is having many children. Tonight, she took me to get a haircut, because my hair has looked unkempt and overgrown since about June. She would not let me pay. She told me very strictly. No, I budget my money. This is the money I spend on my kids, this is the money my husband gets for the month, this is food money, this is my money. I am spending my money for you. I want to give you beautiful hair. (and then we joked that after beautiful hair comes beautiful boyfriend, so I guess we'll see how that works out)

...

I am so humbled.

...

I have so little to worry about (it seems), and I still can't find time to spend $20 on a haircut. I am too busy to care usually. My friend, my sister, my mama, walked me to the mall, introduced me to her friend, and flipped through magazines until we found the perfect cut for my head. She nodded approvingly and loudly praised the hairdresser, and I walked out with beautiful hair. We spent all of an hour gone, and now I look so much better.

...

I tried to sneak money into her pocket, but I think I really offended my friend. I wanted her to spend money on her kids (to whom she is a fantastic mother). She said NO! no christine. this is my money, not yours.

...

I am so loved. and so blessed. and tonight, so humbled.

(and I have great new hair)

2010-10-31T21:46:00.000-04:00

Am I crazy for understanding racism?

The two sides as I see it:

1. Unilateral Condemnation of any racist words and/or actions

because if we tolerate racism, everything we stand for (as romero house) comes into question
because our society is so perfect and racism free, and we all live in Canada now
because we are secure enough in our identity, social standing, and future we don't need to hide behind racist attitudes
because its "wrong"

2. Entering into dialogue and trying to understand it.

because I don't come from the same country as either of the people in question
because stereotypes are rooted in some form of truth, and then unfairly universally applied - conversely, if someone only steals sometimes, is that the same as only beating you some of the time??
because people believe their beliefs are True. That's why they believe them.
because I think that "unilateral intolerance of racism" is a cultural value that is learned over time when you are secure in your own place in society.
because I don't think I can say "you are wrong" to someone's life experience as they know it to be true. I think I can say "I don't think that's always true". but thats not quite as strong...
because everyone's a little bit racist some times. and racism is normal to every society.
because racism and oppression drain life from the oppressor as well as the oppressed

Thoughts for Interns

2010-09-26T19:58:00.000-04:00

I am an intern at Romero House, a community of refugee claimants and interns, which is at the heart of a greater Romero Community of our supporters, former residents, drop-ins, volunteers, neighbors, advocates and more. We have finished our third full week in the office, and already we find ourselves exhausted. Yet today, at our liturgy, I found myself crying from the sheer amount of blessedness I felt surrounded by (grammar is apparently directly related to the amount of rest one gets in life).

So here are my thoughts, on encouragement, guilt, and relying.

we must encourage one another. What's more, we must rely on one another. We must assume the best in one another, and also assume that we are all trying our best. We must rely on the good in each of the residents. These are not "ours", nor do we need to be their best friend. We must walk with them. We point them in the right direction, and entrust them to the care of someone else more skilled that we. Like the Samaritan, who left the wounded man in an inn, promising to cover the difference of the cost of care, we don't have to continue pouring our oil and wine into the deep wounds that a refugee bears. We love our neighbor, and then we continue on our journey.

we are friends? we are more and less and different. we are a community. we love and uplift and support one another. we don't need gossip or dissension amongst us. we are here for the somewhat long-run. we are here for 11 months.

next topic. guilt.

we are insufficient. we are not trained professionals. we have learned about basic issues in school, we have studied, and read books, and volunteered in the community. we are not trained social workers, we are not psychologists, we are not lawyers. we are "companions". "settlement workers". every thing that we do is insufficient. we are not the best. we are who is present. we trust in God's grace to provide, and to cover our insufficiencies. we must not allow ourselves to feel guilty for not putting in an hour here, or an hour there, for not starting another task at 10pm on a Saturday night. To feel guilty implies that we could do better. that we are individually capable of doing everything in our insanely huge job descriptions. to claim guilt is to imply that perfection is possible. we are guilty every second of every day, which is why we must claim grace. grace that covers all short-comings.

we must be able to find joy in what we are doing. we must be able to claim that it brings us life to be concerned about what the father is about. we must find aspects of each day that bring us life. that draw us closer to who we have been called to be. yes?

in a new place

2010-08-30T23:57:00.001-04:00

I am starting over, in the big ways,

in the deepest ways, I feel steady.

I am here, all of me, has moved to Toronto.

I will become more Me as I growlearnlivelove Here at Romero House.

I am excited. I am tired. I am willing.

I find myself here. (statement and self-fulfilling prophecy I think)

. . .

still think about this Erik boy when my brain slows. praying for AF, KB, KH, SH, R? and AA. praying with? praying over? sending prayers towards? praying and slowly breathing and living in the present as respectfully as I can.

at least those songs have left my head.

. . .

it is time to sleep. in the morning we will go canoeing. and I will pray I find peace on the water.

a few quotes of the day courtesy of Father Jack.

"Love is the ultimate gravity"

"Peter? get your ass off that boat and walk towards me."

"this is my community. This is my community??. THIS is my COMMUNITY?!?!?! you know, when Jesus was dying on the cross, I don't think it was very enjoyable, but he was willing and he followed what the Father wanted"

2010-07-30T00:51:00.000-04:00

any one have any thoughts on becoming better at both humility and greatness?

the balance between being Good at something (knowing it), and not being proud?

on running continuously (thriving?) and that crash-and-burn that seems to always follow?

I feel like I am learning slowly how to be really good at volunteer coordination, at being excited to see everyone, at listening to what needs to be done, and finding delicate ways to talk to the right person about it all, at laughing at most things (although sometimes kicking the kids out of FIRM when they come too early, and in Jaret's words, spoiling all the fun)
.
I love what I get to do here. I love the opportunities I am graciously given, and the people I get to listen to, and interact with. I LOVE the kids. I love the chaos and the balance that we always return to.
.
I did however (between writing those top 2 paragraphs and now) catch myself some Strep Throat that has been kinda nasty to my poor body, even after sleeping all weekend and taking anti-biotics and being good.
.

2010-06-25T14:33:00.000-04:00

I feel like there are two ways my life could go forward from here.
One is very international
The other is very local
Its not a new struggle, or a profound realization. It feels like the simple truth.
I am qualified to work abroad. I am interested in living in new places, discovering new beautiful things to love. (sidenote: watch the History Boys. sidenote: in Howard's End, the higher class of people who have discovered the word "I", instead of just "want that car" "need that house" "want your money" contrast with the masculinity of "I" according to Virginia Woolf. sorry. that's the English-literature side of me coming out)
I could even feel called to work abroad. I like international people a lot (the sorts of people who have seen the world beyond their ordinary sphere). I have the resume. I have "cross-cultural competancies". I have the degree. I would love to study more, and use my brain, and get more degrees.
I'm moving to fricken Canada next year. I loved being in the Netherlands. It would be so cool to work in an international organization like the characters in the stories I wrote this year for Laurie. I dream about that kind of a life.
.
and I love Fresno. this little corner of the world where nothing would be guarenteed for me. When I was looking for jobs at Whitworth, before I graduated, I couldn't find anything. At All. Now that I'm here, I hear rumors of this, get e-mails about that, see grants into which I could write myself a job. And they wouldn't be very much money. And there is nothing permanent, really. nothing glamorous or glorious. But so so Good.
and the summer sunsets color the whole sky pink. What more could there be to life?
these Hmong babies steal my heart in the first second I walk onto FIRM campus.
.
here I would be one more person who didn't live up to her potential. and I dunno if I'd go to more school. and I dunno who I would end up with. I can see myself as one of those obese nonprofit ladies who almost nag, and spend all their days working, to go home to an empty house.
.
Beware the False Dichotomies (and avoid the all or nothings).
.
I dunno exactly what shade of gray my life will turn out being colored.

Roads to Take

2010-05-27T00:36:00.000-04:00

I was feeling really moody and angry and blech a few evenings ago, so I went for a walk. It was one of the best things I've done all week. It is SO good to be in Real Life. Nothing spectacular happened on my walk. I saw people washing their cars, kids playing and riding bikes. I saw dogs. I saw flowers. It feels so healthy to feel a part of a dynamic community, of people who are just happily living their ordinary own life. And i've been busy at home, helping my mom with dishes, and cooking, and grading papers for her. (ha. i feel so powerful). I'm really glad I get to take a break from school, and also that I can hopefully have engagement with the Real life stuff throughout any other schooling I end up going through.

In Women Writers, we read a line of a poem "These are roads to take when you think of your country". I've been thinking of it, throughout my journeys. We drove past a sawmill next to a lumber yard, loading processed wood onto a train. I've never seen that before, in my whole life. I've played in an abandoned sawmill (if you ever come to the valley in summer, i'll take you, its wonderful, hidden in a forgotten meadow, with old cabins and a post office and a general store, all abandoned). How sad of a society, where I have never seen trees in process of being made into hardware store wood. I even know how to build things, how to turn hardware store wood to fake walls, tables, shelves. But somehow its different to see the sawdust piling out of the tube. across the filled parking lot. onto the pile of sawdust as large as a barn for elephants.

The roads to take, when you think of your country, they are filled with ordinary people working normal jobs. the non-glamorous ones, that I take for granted until I see the dust whirling in the parking lot. The roads where mom and pop grocery still stand. Open for some precarious number of hours, always freshly closed by the time we wander past.

Questioner (Michael Klein, Boston Phoenix): One of your societies for many years has been California, after many years of living and writing on the East Coast. There is a strong sense that those vastly different landscapes have greatly influenced you internally as well -- what Muriel Rukeyser may have meant when she said: "There are roads to take, when you think of your country."

I dropped a dear friend off in Oakdale, outside of Modesto, on the way home. And though I pride myself in my Valley roots, I'd never seen an intersection with the cornfield across from the dairy farm across from the livestock pavilion across from the railroad tracks. Everything a cow would ever see in its whole life, exists (as it should), within a hundred feet of the place a calf could be born.

I drove Avenue 12 across from 99 to 41. Through the orchards, driving straight. Peaches, Nectarines, Plums, all to-be. Between trucks and semis, we drive this valley our home.

When I got back to Fresno, I started taking the surface streets, so I could reaquaint myself with the Ordinary here. The smog isn't to bad yet, so I can still see the Sierra Nevadas in the distance, although the nearest foothills are significantly clearer. Cedar is another street, and I can bike out Bullard to get strawberries. That's a different sort of road to take. Going east, I hit Fresno State land quickly, and on those roads I learn about how almonds look when they are changing from green to red. What grapes taste like ripe off the vine.
Fresno St is a street I take when I think of my hometown. I love driving to see where the graffiti has emerged, to see what new shopping center has been repainted. I take Fresno street south south south. Past the churches, the firehouses. Apartment Complexes of varying brightness of white paint. More dirt lots emerge, but so do more people walking on the street. I drive past my old elementary school. There is an old hospital and a huge dirt lot that is finally turning into the mixed income housing that was promised by many since the old hazardous section-8 housing was torn down.
An apartment burnt down in Somerset a few months back. Firm always has new graffiti markings that are creatively covered and erased. And then the freeway underpass. There are always people waiting in the shadow of cement for the city busses.
I drive slow, with the windows down, and somehow I find my roots again. I breathe the dry warm air, listen to everyone else's music, and reconnect to this place.

Adrienne Rich: Well, you know, California is the most bizarre place to be, in a certain sense. It's so laden with contradictions. It is, in some ways, almost flaunting of them. I think it flaunts more than any other part of the country, in the visual sense: the extraordinary visual degradation, the extraordinary beauty. There are still these vast tracts of wilderness. There is this amazing ocean. You're constantly living in a kind of cognitive dissonance here.

This whole state is jobless, bankrupt. Fresno, no less than anywhere else. I would stay here if I could. Milagros says FIRM could just find money to pay me. I somehow doubt it. No one seems to have a job around here. We're all leaving... On the brink of Fresno's longawaited turn-around... we still float away...
I'm excited to spend some time in the mountains this summer. Spend some time on the Pacific Ocean. Maybe drive fast to that atrocious Katy Perry song.

Not Radical?

2010-05-09T23:47:00.000-04:00

Jouni doesn't see me as radical at all. He sees me as Nice. Compassionate. Caring.

Lessons on Guilt

2010-04-23T02:26:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by how much I have. Not in a positive, "oh I'm so blessed, I should be thankful" way, but in a "I'm a horrible person, how dare I?" way. I am graduating from the private sheltered small liberal-arts Presbyterian Whitworth in three short weeks. Hopefully with a BA and a few minors :)

I will go home this summer. To fill myself with fresh fruit and sunshine, before I embark on my next great Leaving. This time I will leave for Toronto Canada. A metropolitan city of 4 million, of theatre, of diversity, of ethnic food, and of Romero House, where I will be working and living. working for a small stipend, and free room and board. working for justice, hope, redemption. Working for the families I have yet to meet. The mentors from whom I have yet to learn.

I will live in community. live in balance, i hope oh i hope.

. i forgot . first I will fly across the Atlantic to spend two short weeks visiting various friends in various European locations. i have been saving. i have saved. i am going to Europe, and refuse to be a tourist.

i will go to Europe. i will have been in Europe. i will have taken a small sample of a few small places. so that next time, I will Know. what I want: what i want to see, to do, to experience, to remember.

how much money to save for the Next Time.

With all these exciting possibilities, adventures, journeys ahead of me. I feel tormented sometimes by people who I grew up alongside who are in Fresno. who will return to Fresno and be happy (or not). Paulo says once you leave, you'll never come back the same. Opportunities will keep coming up, different doors will be opened. and I will wander further and further from my roots. and I will be independent (or selfish, depending on your perspective).

but on the other hand. I've always been like that.

"neeny do it self" i said as a toddler. neeny do it self. neeny go out into the world and do what she's gonna do all by her self. i left computech for rsa. i left roosevelt for whitworth. i'm leaving whitworth for Toronto. i don't do things the way most people do. sometimes its to my own detriment, but I like it this way.... apparently.

without sensing his/her own irony, someone told me once that "to whom much is given, much is expected".

I am ridiculously lucky to be able to imagine ways to go new places, and have the luxury of being able to live out whatever crazy idea I dream up and go for. no babies to tie me down. no parents dependent on my income. no boy that i would need to follow. and i trust my instincts (and this Jesus guy when I really think about it) enough to GO without a whole lot of fear or trepidation. i won't know anyone in Toronto, but I will meet so many amazing people, so why would that scare me? live alongside social justice heroes. and RealLife Heroes who manage to make it to Canada alive. live deeply. richly. in a temporary community. for a year. and maybe some months after that. and then go forward to my next exciting adventure. we'll see what it is once the time gets closer.

Jane Addams (by Gwendolyn Brooks)

2010-04-15T16:24:00.000-04:00

I am Jane Addams.

I am saying to the giantless time -

to the young and yammering, to the old and corrected,

well, chiefly to children coming home

with worried faces and questions about world-survival-

"Go ahead and live your life.

You might be surprised. The world might continue."

It was not easy for me, in the days of the giants.

And now they call me a giant.

Because my capitals were Labour, Reform, Welfare,

Tenement Regulation, Juvenile Court Law (the first),

Factory Inspection, Workmen's Compensation,

Woman Suffrage, Pacifism, Immigrant Justice.

And because

Black, brown, and white and red and yellow

heavied my hand and heart.

I shall tell you a thing about giants

that you do not wish to know:

Giants look in the mirror and see

almost nothing at all.

But they leave their houses nevertheless.

They lurch out of doors

to reach you, the other stretchers and strainers.

Erased under ermine or loud in tatters, oh,

money or mashed, you

matter.

You matter, and giants

must bother.

I bothered.

Whatever I was tells you

the world might continue. Go on with your preparations,

moving among the quick and the dead;

nourishing here, there;

pressing a hand

among the ruins

and among the

seeds of restoration.

So Speaks a giant. Jane.

ps from Christine: check out this amazing woman's wikipedia entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Addams

2010-04-11T17:05:00.001-04:00

It is April, and I am so tired. I have been going and going and going for so long, and I haven't breathed in so long. I am moving to Toronto soon, so in my limited spare time, my brain has been exploding with possibilities of a new life.

Today I went to church to hear Whitworth women's choir. Their voices were beautiful, but all I could do in the stillness of listening was to cry. I am so tired. I need to sleep. I need to rest. I need to come back in touch with the core of my identity.

I also need to plan a fundraiser for iClub, to write a few more papers this week, to plan a bachelorette party, to run elections and do the rechartering stuff for iClub, to attend a meeting with Women's Auxiliary, to go to all my classes, to figure out budget stuff, to work 10-12 hours a week so I don't need to leave home this summer to work, to read GD papers, and of course, my normal reading and homework.

I can't survive by just doing that necessary stuff.

I need relationship and community,

so this week I also need to have coffee with friends whom I love, I need to eat chilean food at Global Hearth, I need to reconnect with people feeling abandoned and unloved by me, and I need to start doing my "last time to ________" activities all over spokane.

Today in the car, we were talking about Christianity. I made the preposterous claim that with God, I don't need to be perfect, that I can give other people grace, and receive grace from them when I fall short. And that I don't need other people to satisfy my needs, that I can somehow rest in a greater identity of Christ.

Its true.

but why do I need to do all these things then?

grace and truth.

love,

Christine

Emotions of starting something NEW

2010-04-07T22:02:00.000-04:00

So, I have been offered and have accepted a paid internship in Toronto Canada for September 2010-August 2011. I'm moving to Canada. I, Christine, am moving, to live, in Canada. for a year.

This feeling reminds me of when I whizzed through customs in London. I feel like I'm tricking the world into thinking I'm an adult. And that there's no way it should be this easy. But it's real and its happening.

I'm looking at grad programs too. I want to look into Diaspora and Transnational Studies. SO COOL. SO CUTTING EDGE in such a nerdy political science way. Most of the programs are just starting, but are starting based on a perceived need. University of Toronto has a cool multidisciplinary master's program (and phD, too). and i found a cool PhD program in Berlin. UMass-Amherst is starting a program too. I could write my doctorate thesis in Political Science, with my own personal specialization being this stuff, anywhere tho. but MA program in this would be so cool first.

. . .

A friend from high school found me on facebook recently.

Classmate: I go to fcc. I'm working on my liberal studies degree..now. u? Yeah, i help out at my dad's restaurant :) u should stop by someday

April 1 at 9:57pm ·

Me:

yeah, i'm up in washington state right now, but i will for sure stop by this summer. i'm getting an international studies degree right now. its kinda political science, but focused on the whole world

April 1 at 10:11pm ·

Classmate:

that's great! how is the apple state? :} yeah, let me know a few weeks in advance, so i can reserve a spot for. Sounds good, sounds so miss Barker like :}

April 1 at 10:18pm ·

Classmate:

JK

let me know a few hours in advance :}

April 1 at 10:20pm ·

Me:) washington is cold and cloudy. most of the time. and the fruit doesn't taste nearly as good as fruit at home does. i miss fresno a lot. but school is school so i keep going. and i'll for sure let you know when miss barker wants to stop by.

April 1 at 10:43pm ·

Classmate:

i love that kind of weather. I don't like the summer much, i'm like get away from mr. sun and go hide behind that tree :P but i would not be able to survive without good produce. i'm a valley girl, don't you know :) miss fresno? afd joke? lol, but, yeah, i understand, ur family and loved ones r here. But miss barker needs to do her thang before she steps back into little old fresno ;)

I dunno how I feel about that. On one hand, hey, I'm making it in the real world. The non-Fresno, non-ghetto, non-valley world. Most of my class couldn't even graduate high school. I'm now looking at international PhD programs.

I feel really guilty. and i feel really blessed and really lucky.

so so lucky.

I've gotten such a good education here. I've learned a lot. I can get papers back with 100% grades. With the exception of this year, I've been mostly miserable here. I don't fit here.

but I don't fit at home with this classmate anymore. She called me miss barker. miss barker who makes reservations at the Italian restaurant her parents own. I mean. I was an RSA kid when I was at Roosevelt. but I had friends that were RHS. I talked to people in all my classes. I didn't sit by the other RSA kids mostly.

miss barker need to do her thang before she steps back into little old fresno

it kinda breaks my heart.

Five Poems of Home

2010-03-06T03:55:00.000-05:00

Love is an orange
twisted off the highest
branch of the backyard tree
by a tall boy balanced
on the roof of the barren doghouse
on our last foggy morning

* * *

he left the low fruit hanging, so my mama
could reach them dangling and dancing in the fog.
Her bad back is alone right now, aching. She is sipping
weak coffee at the leaf-less table, playing sudoku
as she swallows a slice of the juiciest orange imaginable.

* * *

Unpalatable oranges are sold in Spokane. they must be bought
by people who have never tasted truth.
our Oranges spray sacred oil, dress our palms
as their unshriveled sweet flesh is broken
for you to imbibe with joy and thanks.
These shrunken oranges are not to blame.
I would be sour, too, after bouncing a thousand miles in a crowded box,
to emerge into florescent lights of safeway, no fog to call my own.

* * *

(dreaming of home, salivating over fresh fruit
What are endless rows of orange trees in a foggy orchard
when a sunny false spring has arrived in Spokane?)

* * *

we filled brown paper bags with love, to sustain us on our journey,
or bequeath on future hosts. Speeding through orchards on 99,
the perfume of his quiet peeling saturated the air. The orange exhaled
oils with each peel, anointing his hands with travelling mercies.
I was driving north, away from home; he fed me one segment
of sweetness after another. and I don't remember when the fog cleared.

can you tell the sun was shining today?

2010-02-17T21:00:00.000-05:00

I have found my Whitworth rhythm. Meetings start at 8am, and flamingo flocking ends at 11pm.

I write agendas, call people to remind them, go to class and do most of my readings.

and I am happy.

The last two days have been filled with thoughts on identity (individual and collective)

This is my time. I am here right now to ask all the questions that I need to ask, and respectfully listen for answers from people with life-wisdom. It is liberating.

I am so thankful for: Amowi, Esther, Doug, and Vic

because they take me seriously.

also: this boy who wrote me a 9 page letter

because he makes more sense than most of the world combined.

also: Laurie's classes

because she offers legitimacy to our experiences and perceptions. which is beautiful and also freeing.

also: WU trippers

because they are great, and because of ninja team names

and because of the dedication that the planning team has put into this crazy project.

. . .

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

. . .

RealLife > Whitworth

2010-02-07T23:41:00.000-05:00

I feel more balanced and more concrete when I spend time off-campus in the RealWorld. I like to sit in a church that has families of all ages, and old people with hearing aides. I like to see the mall filled with people with RealLives. I love summer when I get to be home. I spend my days working at FIRM, where I am surrounded by a full community of all-ages and we all have symbiotic roles to play. I spend evenings with friends or family. My life is full, and I have meaning.
At Whitworth, my life is full, but I drown myself in depression and cynicism. There is a magic balance where I can still get everything done well and also not have a moment to stop to think. That is the only way I have learned to do Whitworth well. When I am off balance, I have to go somewhere new. It can be a meadow by the river behind my house. It can be a museum. It can be the mall. It can be a new coffeeshop, or a conversation on the bus. When I get back in contact with RealLife, I remember how RealLife works, and my tiny but important role in it all.
. . .
I was told last night that its presumptuous to say that OutThere is RealLife, and here is only pseudo-reality. I am presupposing that the nice people swarming this campus don't have some essential quality of life. Who am I to judge?
I contend that we pay good money to be isolated from the harshness of RealLife. We are a group of 2,500 people in the prime of our lives. We rarely die. We eat 2-3 (and more) meals a day without having to think about where our food comes from. Of course there are those who choose to skip meals to lose weight or spend their time elsewhere. I've been there, too. Our main concerns (outside of social interests which transcend any monetary barrier) are homework and "earning" letter grades, or at best, learning material written and taught by our elders.
It doesn't matter to me what the inner life of my fellow students is like. It isn't necessary because they have the luxury to be able to meditate on vocation and worldview and life purposes. If they choose not to take themselves seriously, its their loss. (I do take time to have coffee and get to know people who take their position seriously. I love people like this; they just aren't my passion)
Our isolation is also our loss. We lose out on the love of older people in our community. Kids lose our continual presence in their lives. Although many Whitworth students volunteer with various organizations, its just another time-block in a busy student schedule. We lose out on grocery store conversations. We miss out on demonstrations on corners, and seeing into the eyes of our city's homeless. We don't see kids walking home from the bus stop. Our lives consist of us. and our friends. and our computers. This isn't Real to me.
. . .
Connecting theory to practice is a major tenet of service-learning. What good does our education do us, if we can't connect to a complete community (not just one made up of our like-minded peers)? Furthermore, does this separation through education make a permanent break between us and our communities?
I feel like it does for me. I feel like the more and more educated I become, the less and less I have in common with most people from my home. I have more in common with educated people. I have less to talk about with former friends. I know too much, that even our grand conversations about big dreams for Fresno are filled with my obscure(in Fresno) references to dead Europeans who have already thought about these things for many years.
What is knowledge if I can't use it in community?
Although Whitworth has a very tight community on campus, the tightness is not as easily accessed from the outside. The culture has strong expectations for behavior, morality and vocabulary (and accent and skin-tone, although religious fervor can triumph both). I don't see our connection to Spokane. I don't see my connection to this community here, and I am seeing how thinly stretched my connection to my home community has become as well.
. . .
When I leave here, I will enter the RealWorld again. I will keep figuring out how to do my finances better. I will have a job, and will relax after work doing whatever. I know that my lovely depression and trust issues will persist, but I feel so much better about them when I am in the presence of a varied society that spends its time on mundane RealLife things.
I really am idealistic after all.

expectations for the next 103 days.

2010-02-04T04:17:00.000-05:00

I'm having difficulties getting reacclimated to normal school sleeping/waking hours. I've been staying up too late, and sleeping in too late, and its hard to change those quickly.
This semester I am taking 3 English classes, 1 film class, 1 campus-based research class, and 2 polisci classes (international political economy and research methods).
I am going to Louisiana for Spring Break. I will pay for it somehow with Bonner. I need to be working 12+ hours a week for Bonner, and every day that I procrastinate on getting something set up means more hours later that I will need.
This semester I imagine that I will learn a lot about Voice and personal experience. Between Native American Literature and Women Writer's, I think that I will gain very different counter-hegemonic knowledge sets.
. . .
Quotes from my first days of classes
"I tell everyone this. Before you marry someone, first go on a roadtrip with them. Learn whether or not you can live with them before you make a final decision to get married" -Esther Louie who went motorcycling across Europe for 3 months with the man who became her husband.
"I learned how to live with intention. You have to wake up in the morning and decide what you are going to BE for" -Esther Louie
"What is it like to be the product of a culture that a more powerful and numerous people has attempted to extinguish?" -Vic Bobb
"I ask for your hometown, because I freak out if I don't know where you're from. how can I know anything about you ever if not where you come from?"
"I was not afraid. I lay in the quiet
and looked, and did the wordless thought.
my mind was getting its oxygen
direct, the rich mix by mouth.
I hated no one. I gazed and gazed,
and everything was interesting. I was
free, not yet in love. I did not
belong to anyone. I had drunk
no milk, yet - no one had
my heart. I was not very human. I did not
know there was anyone else. I lay
like a god, for an hour, then they came for me
and took me to my mother."
-Sharon Olds in 180 more extraordinary poems for every day by Billy Collins
...
observations:
Women Writers: overflowing with white women and a few men VS Native American Literature: empty seats scattered between multi-racial Americans of both genders
I talk too much in class
inter-sectionality in dominant/non-dominant identity groups

christmas break

2010-01-20T21:50:00.000-05:00

I drove so many miles over the past four weeks.
I felt a lot of things.
talked about everything under the sun
.
I didn't take my own pictures, and don't know which stories to share.
.
it was completely wonderful. and now I'm back at Whitworth. which is different. and maybe less wonderful. but so goes life.
.
highlights (in the order that I think of them):
1. Christmas with so many people whom I love (and I only cried once! thats a new Christmas record for me!) i felt so loved.
2. swimming in our swimming pool. it was so freaking cold, Iveth and I started screaming the second we hit the water, and immediately rushed to get out of the pool. Jouni, on the other hand, swims back and forth a bit before he gets out. oh, and the most hillarious part of that whole escapade was my brothers speedo from 2-3 years ago.... let's just say it didn't cover all that it used to...
3. endless fresh oranges off the tree.
4. Nate's newest way of eating corn flakes
5. moments of complete peace near the ocean
6. jumproping with seaweed at Carmel Beach
7. basking in the light of the full moon and listening to music while sipping red wine
8. New Years Eve. ha. cuddling and sharing stories, poppers at midnight, and then a stumbling laughing journey to look at the sea and the moon.
9. watching my friends find their own things to love about the Central Coast
10. the drive from sacramento to fresno, after staying awake to drive through the night, and not really talking a whole bunch for a while, all the sudden, lots just spilled out. it was so comforting to know that there were still so many more things to say and discuss.
11. disneyland with the boy. nuff said.
12. really good Himalayan cuisine restaurant
13. the whole time we spent in San Diego. Balboa Park then sunset at Coronado. best pizza ever from BJs.
14. mornings when we got back to Fresno
15. Golden Gate Park. and our hostel was pretty cool too.
16. The Beat Museum. the world is a beautiful place to be born into by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
17. perfecting our parallel parking teamwork and our ability to not pay for parking
18. our general ability to never be completely lost, and always have one of us remember the important things the other forgot
19. homemade bread and other delicious food at the Bergmans
20. Finnish sauna and Finnish church

Giving Thanks. ha.

2009-11-26T01:02:00.000-05:00

When holidays come, I miss something that I don't even know. I love my family. my brother. my cousins. They're great. But somehow when I come home, I just want to be held and cuddled and hugged the whole time. And when that doesn't happen, I get melancholy quickly.
Maybe I am insecure. I thought I didn't care, but i need acceptance and love and to be important and heard. just like everybody else, i suppose. :)
Aunt Laurel is so proud of Hannah being at Yale. She doesn't care if Whitworth does the exact same thing as Yale (ie having elective/specialized style courses count for GE, in this particular case).
I may really dislike my school for a variety of reasons, but I reserve the right to be the only one to criticize it. I actually really like my school a lot. its just the other people there.
Derek points out when I'm being bitchy. I can be pretty bitchy sometimes. I'm mostly okay with it. I'm mostly done caring about anyone and anything. Is that sad?
I need Soul Care next semester.
cuz i need you jesus to come to my rescue. no one else will do. and i will grab hold of you.
My back hurts a lot. My neck hurts and I drove a lot today. my eyes are dry, i think because i put this eyeliner on.
I want a boy to call, but he's off in washington-land, and has only been gone all of 12 hours from campus, hasn't even thought to miss me, nor should he, he's experiencing American Thanksgiving, a whole new adventure.
Why do I feel so isolated?
I felt more included in the Seattle U conversations than anything else I heard tonight at Hannah's Reunification with High School Friends Game Party. Social Justice, small school, Christian-inclined. Washington State. There's a connection there. But I feel intentionally repelled by Ivy League talk, and have no good frat or sorority stories. I do drink, but I feel like I don't wanna put added pressures on my younger cousins who don't (even though all their friends do), how considerate and nice of me.

Fuck it all. I do good stuff to be Nice now. I worship the same Idol as everybody else at my school, my indoctrination is complete. Its not that Nice is bad. I just prefer Love. Ideally, I could Love people well. fully. authentically. love God. worship. serve. authentically, wholly, honestly.

but instead I'm a cranky bitchy hunchback who gets depressed when she has time to sit back and reflect. oh dear.

Being Honest

2009-11-09T19:34:00.001-05:00

I crave being held. I crave being cherished.
However, that isn't what my identity is.
. . .
I've recently become close friends with a boy who challenges me.
My response is to try to mold him into someone who he is not. I have been trying to conform him to my previously constructed ways of relating (to men). It doesn't work so well. And just because I can make something happen, doesn't mean that it is good for me for it to happen.
. . .
So I'm back to determining who I am and where I'm going.
I found a cool place that I'd like to live next year. Romero House in Canada. I'd live alongside refugee families awaiting decision on their status. I'd receive a monthly stipend. I'd do homework club with kids, do immigration case work, and live in the world's most multicultural city.
. . .
Thats the Christine Barker I remember. That is who I want to be.
I recently stepped in without thinking when a guy was choking a woman on the street in Seattle. I said, Hey, Hey, what are you doing? He took her around the corner, and I followed them, and said Hey you, you need to stop, what are you doing?
He shouted obscenities at me and a boy for a good half-block. I'm really glad he didn't attack us. She got away.
I step in. I do what I think I should without stopping to think.
I care about people. I empathize probably too much.
A boy and I cried at a war memorial with the names of everyone from Seattle carved between quotes. I don't know why he cried, but I cried for the homeless man rocking back and forth as he drank out of a brown paper bag in front of the Vietnam portion. He splashed some names with his drink, and sat there and rocked for as long as we stood there.
. . .
Its not that this boy and I don't connect. Its just that I want a boy to be a boyfriend-role in my life (even for six or seven months only). A boy from another culture doesn't fit that role for too many reasons to elaborate. So now, I need to be honest with myself and remember who I am. And keep being Myself. Christine Michelle.
I care. not so much what people think, but I do care what they feel. I don't like it when I'm a bitch, even though I'm so much more inclined to do it since coming back to Whitworth from Stellenbosch. I am interested in what people think. I like being challenged in classes. I love a Jesus-guy, and I claim redemption and Love in the small and big things.
I recently survived Swine Flu that turned into Bronchitis and I WILL graduate this May. I believe in small children. I believe in learning and infectious Joy. I think that there is much to learn through living in solidarity with those I want to spend my life serving. I love to read. and to Be in silence around other people. I am an extrovert too. I love coffeetalks and meeting new people in authentic ways.
I drink alcohol. a fair amount. I love drinking with my roommates, and clubbing with friends. I don't like dirty dancing all up in anyone's grill. I like that song Down. I think I'm getting distracted.
I stand up and Lead when I think it needs to be done.
I question whether I'll ever get married. or have children. or do any of those real normal life things. I don't have anything against those institutions. I want them, I think, but I just don't really see it happening.
. . .
I'll do good things in my life.
I'll live intentionally near Maddie for some part of it.
I'll have a huge library no matter how poor I get.
I'll Love Fresno with my life. just as soon as I go a few other places first? maybe? please jesus?
I'll be a teacher somewhere along the way.
I'll love people always.

Who Am I Again?

2009-09-28T21:19:00.000-04:00

What am I doing here at Whitworth University?
What am I doing in life?
This is bad timing for a freak-out seeing as I need to submit sample applications to all my top priority life-options in class tomorrow.
meh.
bleh.
shit foo.
unrelated: why are no boys ever interested in me?

in imitation of ee cummings

2009-09-15T15:40:00.000-04:00

I who have lived have died again today.

And this is the anniversary of all my scars; this is the day
Of pain and of bitterness and wounds and of the grave
Great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

RFP #952-4733

2009-08-25T18:39:00.001-04:00

She tells us afterwards the best analogy she can come up with.
Its like finding out you're pregnant.

She's the mother who for so many reasons has been telling us to turn this grant in early.
For our well-being, for our health, for our futures, JUST LISTEN TO HER.

We'd worked really hard, we'd created so much good material. we were really going somewhere.
Until we looked down and saw that we were Late.

Desperately speeding down to County Purchasing. Shoe stuck in the door.
Getting there at 2:01.

The pit that dropped then, it settled, it is quite comfortable in the depths of our stomachs and psyche.
The terror that she tried to convey, through e-mails, loving support, conversation after conversation.

Even Sophia's admonishments the day of.
were nothing.

compared to this. this lethal potion of guilt-judgement-failure.
Its something we'll never forget.

We did not live in terror, and that terror was not the final line for us.
And we turned in our proposal late.

She says she's disappointed and sad, with us.
now we're marked. we've joined the club. of those with denied dreams

that Late-ness was all that mattered.
kinda like being pregnant.

Its three am, i must be lonely now

2009-08-17T06:11:00.000-04:00

So the sermon today at UPC was about Solomon, when he asked for wisdom.
and the point was that we can't just ask for anything. we have to love God first. and then within that, desire that which we desire.
I really want something to happen. But I'm being outwardly passive and patient, and possibly being really obnoxious in the regularity that I pray for that to happen.
but in other news, I love those GAYG girls so much. and its so crazy that some of them are going into COLLEGE!! i feel like they're my baby sisters, and they're not allowed to be that old yet!
but at the same time, its so nice that they're maturing, asking deeper questions, really asking advice.
i'm gonna miss them a lot a lot. i could probably cry.
but part of that is also because its 4am by now, and I still haven't finished writing the grant material stuff.
hm,
maybe i should get on that. :)

2009-07-05T22:36:00.000-04:00

I'm home in Fresno.
Avoiding some things.
easing into some things.
diving into FIRM again, and UPC too, to a lesser extent.
spending lots of good time with my family.

I just came home from a day on the lake, where we wakeboarded and tubed and swam our hearts out. We went with some old family friends.
I'm tired.
I'm always tired.

I had a little self-satisfying cry when we came home from the lake. I'm just so bad. I'm so bad at anything related to strength or athleticism. I tried and tried to get up on the water but just kept getting pulled straight over out of those boots.

When we got in the car to go home Kyle congratulated me on actually being a good sport. which served to just piss me off more. before i was frustrated and a little withdrawn. after he said that, oh, and telling me that i had just done a Nathan Berend (one of his friends who really is a good guy, but it really wasn't helpful)

anyways. i'm mad at my brother and i'm feeling sore and out of whack. its so easy for me to get out of sync with normal life. Sharon says that that's normal, and she felt out of sync with society for a long time after she came back from Korea.

Its pretty selfish though. and wallowing never gets sympathy, which is really what i'm craving.

So I picked up Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. That book changed my faith in High School. I've read it plenty of times since then, and loaned or given it to probably all my friends. The way that he talks about Jesus and God, it soothes my soul. The shared reality of faith and life and doubt. Of talking about Jesus with friends. Of important realizations. This Jesus-guy who came down and dwelt among us. Its pretty amazing. and i love him. and i see him in the Gods Asian Youth Group girls. I see him in the staff and clients of FIRM. Its so much easier for me to see Jesus in Hmong and Lao faces than anywhere else.

Its right about at the God dwelling among us, living our experiences, that I put my book down, and ask/command God.
but your dad didn't leave your family for another.
your dad didn't leave you, forget you, ignore you, replace you.
your dad didn't choose your former children's ministry director over you.

mine did.

how do i know that you won't leave. that you won't find someone else that's better.
i understand that you love me now, that you have always loved me, but how do I know that that's gonna stay. and how can you be in That?

its almost like i have to surround myself with people who I know you love, who I see your care for and concern for and devotion to, in order to even continue to remember You.

I don't trust people. I don't open up to people in order to make new friends. I try to avoid the surface fake stuff, because I still have my high-school era disdain for inauthenticity. But I don't have the trust or the guts to be authentic to everyone. I'm generally removed and probably judgmental. and i never have anything to talk about. i do hate though, when i talk and people laugh at me for talking too intelligently. thus, it takes me a while to have everyday conversations.

except with my high school girls. thank God for his grace. it amazes me that I get to be a part of their lives, and even an agent of Him, in spite of everything.
and i get to keep working at FIRM. and seeing His Love work amazing wonders.

i don't know. its like whenever i stop and really think about it, God and my fathers choices are irrevocably tied together. And I love Jesus for bringing me through all that, and Being with me during the worst of it. But I'm still so scarred. and i feel like they're always gonna be there, and i feel like i should be over it by now, seeing as i have a completely different relationship with my father now, (which is almost miraculous in and of itself, except when he completely disappoints me all over again)
and my dad just wraps himself with biblical language, and rights and wrongs, and prays so much, and runs a ministry. but he still lies. and he still says he'll do things that he doesn't follow through on. so how...? i dunno. how am i supposed to have the deep faith that is in all parts of my life?
because all deep questions run back to my father. and his selectivity in his participation in my life.
and no real answers ever seem to surface.
no matter how many times we have this conversation with tears welling in our eyes.

i do know about God's feelings on:
the oppressed
the hungry
the aliens
the widows
the orphans
the prostitutes
the sick
His World

thus, i still want to do humanitarian work for the rest of my life. maybe to help me figure out where i'm going, where God's moving. maybe for deeper spiritual reasons than that. maybe not.

ps: this is why i need to blog more regularly, so I don't post seven blogs all in one. sry

thanks.

2009-06-03T14:50:00.000-04:00

My father says that after True Thankfulness will always come Joy.

my father is a man of great wisdom, even if he has hurt a lot of people along the way and doesn't seem to acknowledge it.

He told me to try it. just to see if it would work.

So I wrote an e-mail of true thankfulness to my stepmother, who alongside my father, decided to let me have $200 for a birthday present a few months early. It allowed me to go to Mozambique for a few days.
In Mozambique I had the best prawns (shrimp) known to man-kind. I had matapas? matadas? some kind of delicious spinach and prawn liquid that you pour on top of rice or pap/mealie meal.
I met great adventurous spirits.
I laid in a hammock in the afternoon sun.
I slept a lot.
I experienced life in a normal city that didn't feel touristy. It was normal Maputans eating in the restaurants and buying vegetables from the women on the sidewalks. It was school kids who passed me on the streets not beggars. The police presence perhaps had something to do with that, and I know that I missed seeing a lot of the city, the poorer and more desperate areas, I'm sure. I walked around the business areas. the government housing areas, the beaches, most of the city center.
All the streets are named after leftist revolutionaries. including Mao Tse Tung and Kim il sung. and Karl Marx. and Lenin.
I am thankful for that adventure.
And I am thankful that I had some time to get away from Stellenbosch to process my time here. And I didn't cross the Atlantic, so when I came back, I could remember the parts that I really do love, and acknowledge the many idiosyncrasies that I have gotten used to. And I got to take more pictures.
I am thankful for all of that.
See you soon America

2009-05-19T14:29:00.000-04:00

http://www.churchworldservice.org/site/PageServer?pagename=action_ghana_program_job1

I want this job in a few years...

or I wanna do the Peace Corps.

or Teach for America

or life in Fresno
- teaching credential in math
- work at a high school until i burn out
- get better access to the various communities in poorer parts of town
- Live, Love. choose peace. do something good for the place where i am from. the place that continues to claim me no matter how far away i go.

I read blogs instead of writing big papers...

2009-05-03T16:11:00.000-04:00

I can’t stand your religious meetings.
I’m fed up with your conferences and conventions.
I want nothing to do with your religion projects,
your pretentious slogans and goals.
I’m sick of your fund-raising schemes,
your public relations and image making.
I’ve had all I can take of your noisy ego-music.
When was the last time you sang to me?
Do you know what I want?
I want justice—oceans of it.
I want fairness—rivers of it.
That’s what I want. That’s all I want.

this is what eugene cho has to say about the message's version of Micah: http://eugenecho.wordpress.com/2009/04/28/everyone-needs-to-read-this-because-maybe-this-is-actually-about-you/#more-4323

and...
A Fransican Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort,
at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger,
at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

My God bless you with tears,
to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war,
so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their
pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness,
to believe that you can make a difference in this world,
so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

Amen.

thats a Fransiscan benediction that I found here:
http://gracerules.wordpress.com/

and finally
Christian holiness consists not of trying as hard as we can to be good, but of learning to live in the new world created by Easter, the new world which we publicly entered in our baptism. There are many parts of the world that we can't do anything about except pray. But there is one part of the world, one part of physical reality, which we can do something about, and that is the creature we call 'myself.' Personal holiness and global holiness belong together. Those who wake up to the one may well find themselves called to wake up to the other. -NT Wright

that I found here:
http://www.parablesofaprodigalworld.com/2008/02/top-10-3-excerpts-from-nt-wrights.html

Someday...

2009-05-03T13:22:00.000-04:00

I want to be able to...
-be okay with spending money on quality things like museums and theatre and haircuts
-know myself well enough to intervene before my depression hits
-be able to budget and save money
-be better at appreciating co-workers and bosses and people who work under me
-know the right thing to say to an abused child
-be able to keep my room decently clean without getting overwhelmed by the mess
-appreciate my mother better
-trust female people that I meet enough to actually be friends (without needed acquaintanceship for a few years first)
-be more faithful to my Jesus in my everydays
-exercise regularly without falling into obsessing about weight
-have a better way to deal with stress than eating
-find a stable routine that rejuvenates me enough to let me keep doing the harder/deeper stuff without killing myself
Its not the hard stuff that wears me out. Its the mundane things like dishes and laundry and money that become too much to handle when I wear myself out emotionally

2009-04-24T16:42:00.000-04:00

I hate being negative. A lot of the people that are around me right now, who I do love and appreciate, seem to all be in this negative place right now. Laura is really homesick. Jessica is pretty homesick and pissed at how patriarchal and horrible at dealing with rape/women's issues this society is. KP is KP. i love KP, but she does tend to be pessimistic.
I love my afterschool program, but it drains me.
I love these kids, but they drain me.
I was supposed to write a huge research paper this week.
I spent a good 5+4+4+4 = 17 hours with my kids this week, all 12-14 year olds. (not including the 3 hours I spent in class talking about my kids)
I'm leaving so soon. Just as they're starting to trust me and open up.
and there's nothing i can do about it.
I hate feeling powerless.

There is a Jesus who makes a whole lot more sense when I'm surrounded by suffering. He is Good and He is God.
Proverbs for today
Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when its in your power to help them. If you can help your neighbor now, don't say, "Come back tomorrow, and then I'll help you." 3:27-28
And a Psalm for Jacob Zuma and my township kids
Give justice to the king, O God,
and righteousness to the king's son
Help him judge your people in the right way;
let the poor always be treated fairly.
May the mountains yield prosperity for all,
and may the hills be fruitful,
(because the king does what is right.)
Help him to defend the poor,
to rescue the children of the needy,
and to crush their oppressors. 72:1-4

Easter and Shalom

2009-04-13T13:44:00.000-04:00

After sending a miniature essay facebook message to my friend in Spokane, I realized that I've become my own little expert on Africa and aid... I realize that I sort of have an educational backing that is more authentic, but I haven't really been spending that much time in rural areas at all. or in bigger cities. its mostly been Kayamandi township
I went on a roadtrip across the southern coast, which was BEAUTIFUL. it was also touristy, in a chill/beachy/mountainy/occasionally hippie sort of way.

but really, who am i to know Africa? or even South Africa?
i've been so secluded here.
and i'm learning a lot from my classes.

but i've been living in paradise. a small safe town with cheap food and cute shops.

I am going to South Africa

2008-12-06T17:50:00.000-05:00

really soon.
I'm slowly realizing how many people won't be here when I come back in September. Internationals and Seniors alike.
I'm slowly realizing that life will go on without me while I'm gone. A lot of things can happen in nine months. A lot of relationships could change substantially. I don't know who is going to make the effort to stay in touch. I don't know who is going to be a tangible support, or who just says they will now.
I'm slowly realizing that I'm gonna learn so much more than I thought. And its going to be so freaking amazing and different than anything else I've ever done. But I've adjusted to culture shock at Whitworth, and the little culture lessons I've learned from life in Fresno, and I feel like I can learn to live there too. and its gonna be great. one step at a time, and this is my step to take.
This is where I need to be.
This is where I'm going.

2008-10-14T22:45:00.000-04:00

To all boys who may or may not be reading this:
if you say you're gonna call, you best call.
if you think you can drop in and out of someone else's life, you best get some good apologies to precede whatever it is that is so important.
if you start reminiscing, keep it to yourself.
if you want to start recommunicating, do something a little less public than a facebook wall
if you have a girlfriend, stay the hell away from me and all other exes. it just makes life easier for all involved.
if you're gonna sign your name at the end of a note, don't even think the word love.

thanks buddy.
you're always there for me....

2008-10-09T20:51:00.000-04:00

I'm in a disconnect right now that I used to name and see in others and despise.
I love who God is. I love listening to people praise him. I love reading Isaiah. Psalms. the Gospels. Over and over again I page through them. And I take comfort that that is who God proclaims Herself to be. (Iveth has started doing that in our Bible Studies. I think its interesting how much that throws me off, so I'm doing it more, as an exploration of a pattern, to figure out what I think)
And yet. The whole personal relationship thing? The whole Spirit thing? it feels so far away.
So far.
And so I wonder what I do believe. and I wonder what the point is in appreciation.
One side of that is "inactive faith". But another way of saying it is "resting in who God says He is". Is that self-imposed distance? Or is that what faith is supposed to look like?

I dunno.
I cry out. I cry to him. And there are many beautiful people in my life who pull me forward and are pulled by He who has called them. And He has called me too. Its just been so long since I've heard his voice. So long since I've felt Him around me. This summer I saw Him move. I saw Her in my GAYG girls. I see the beauty in Her children. I see Her grace in others.

and of course my question is: what do I do?
and I'm pretty sure that actions aren't supposed to dictate it. But they sort of are?
"its about Be-ing, not Do-ing"
so is it out of control?
or doing things that make you more open to Be-ing.
or doing things that help you not focus on do-ing the right things or always do-ing more.

i want to walk in those rhythms of grace that he promises. the ones where the burden is light

Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

The Message (MSG)

28-30"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

Life is heavy for me now.
And it snowed this morning at Whitworth
And I still want to be anywhere but here.
And something happened last night with Paulo but I'm not even sure what he was saying under what he was saying. so we'll see. dunno. dunno. healthy? depends. good that its not serious from the start. good to start small light. could be good for both to work on be-ing okay without ______. you know? or could be disasterous like josh.
but i don't even know what happened really. i'm really out of it these days..... no good.

2008-10-05T20:15:00.000-04:00

So I don't know if the hypothetical audience of this blog has picked up on this yet, but I struggle through a lot of race/culture paradigms. pretty consistently at Whitworth.
I wonder if part of the problem is that I don't like people that are different than me in their opinions. I don't know if I rebel against the feeling that they think I agree with them, or if I truly don't understand how they think that way. I think that makes me elitist. smile.
I don't see the appeal in Palin. Does that make me one sided? Have I just attached myself to Obama, and idolize him to the point of not seeing wrongs in him, and demonizing his opponent?
She didn't point out a single difference between mccain and bush's policy? she enumerated multiple times word-for-word portions of Bush policies. are you kidding me? really?
aand, apparently, she/her administration in alaska were responsible for killing that bill diverting funds from Sudan that she now really wants to pass. no source on that. just angry new york times readers.
i think bidens a smart smart man. it will be interesting (oh please please jesus) to see if he and obama do butt heads due to differing opinions like my new moody friends were talking about today. also. palin didn't answer the question about whether or not she would follow through on mccain's policies

And I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear, but I'm going to talk straight to the American people

Pretty sure in a debate you're supposed to listen to the moderator, and generally even answer her/his answers.

Patriotic is saying, government, you know, you're not always the solution. In fact, too often you're the problem so, government, lessen the tax burden and on our families and get out of the way and let the private sector and our families grow and thrive and prosper

and saying that holding to the Republican party line of deregulation and smaller government is not patriotism. I would hope that half the country doesn't hate America, or isn't patriotic, they just choose to affiliate with the Democratic party. you can't say that sarah palin, you can't say that.

PALIN: Yes. Well, as the nation's only Arctic state and being the governor of that state, Alaska feels and sees impacts of climate change more so than any other state. And we know that it's real.
I'm not one to attribute every man -- activity of man to the changes in the climate. There is something to be said also for man's activities, but also for the cyclical temperature changes on our planet.
But there are real changes going on in our climate. And I don't want to argue about the causes. What I want to argue about is, how are we going to get there to positively affect the impacts?
We have got to clean up this planet. We have got to encourage other nations also to come along with us with the impacts of climate change, what we can do about that.
As governor, I was the first governor to form a climate change sub-cabinet to start dealing with the impacts. We've got to reduce emissions. John McCain is right there with an "all of the above" approach to deal with climate change impacts.
We've got to become energy independent for that reason. Also as we rely more and more on other countries that don't care as much about the climate as we do, we're allowing them to produce and to emit and even pollute more than America would ever stand for.

Although China surpassed US for the first time this year in gross carbon pollution, our per capita rate is still 8.1 tons per year, around 4 times that of the Chinese per capita usage. also, India's is still at like 1.4 (out of a Foreign Affairs article, Setp/Oct 2008). Lastly, if we're pumping crude oil out of alaska, its still gonna produce the same carbon as oil from those terrorists who hate American freedom.

last palin frustration from the debate: she didn't seem to hear biden any of the multiple times that he stated explicitly that John Mccain voted the same as Obama on the funding for Iraq.

...
yeah
...

2008-10-02T13:29:00.000-04:00

Indeed, the US incarceration rate has become the highest of any country in the world. In California alone, there are more people imprisoned than in any other country in the world except China.
The number of adults incarcerated in federal or state prisons or local jails in the United States skyrocketed during this period, quadrupling from just over 500,000 in 1980 to 2.2 million in 2005, according to the Department of Justice. Two-thirds of those are in federal or state prisons and one-third in local jails; the vast majority are young men between 18 and 39. An estimated 80 percent of them either violated drug or alcohol laws, were high at the time they committed their crimes, stole property to buy drugs, or had a history of drug and alcohol abuse and addiction — or some combination of those characteristics. Adding those on parole or probation to the incarcerated population, nearly 7 million adults are currently under correctional supervision, 3.2 percent of all US adults 18 or older.

In addressing the common idea that immigration brings crime:

The total incarceration rate for the native born is more than one percentage point higher in California than in the rest of the country (4.5 percent to 3.4 percent). In contrast, the incarceration rate for the foreign born in California was less than half the foreign-born rate in the rest of the country (0.4 percent to 1.0 percent).

So really, its the disenchanted second generation that you have to look out for....

http://www.migrationinformation.org/USFocus/display.cfm?ID=403

Where is my heart?

2008-09-24T01:42:00.000-04:00

I was hoping to write a post that wasn't about me, that was about some deeper theological concept. Or perhaps a greater more brilliant hypothetical situation with intelligent analysis. Or I could talk about specific quotes, writing a stirring encouragement to people who fulfill this this and that criteria. I had a couple good conversations today. I talked to Maddie, was silly and hung out with Lindsey, and had dinner with Alicia. But even these come back to something I discovered in counselling yesterday.

I am really good at processing with my brain. With analyzing. With retelling stories, and attempting to find meaning and sort through them. I am good at finding patterns. I am really good at figuring out what (or deciding...) what I did wrong in a specific situation. I can find fault well. I can sit in counselling and describe well, who I am, where I have come from, I can narrate specific events from my past well, and even dig into the emotions attached and appropriately affix them to my face in the retelling. That doesn't mean that I address issues and problems. (or find the solutions either)

But somewhere along the way, the brain started covering for the heart almost completely. In a way, its a defense mechanism. I don't feel Known or Appreciated here, it must be because I haven't been vulnerable enough. If _______ knew my story, or knew my struggles, or understood where I was coming from, surely they'd understand better what I am trying to communicate to them now.

I do think there is tremendous potential for great healing through the power of story. Through sharing the hardest parts of life. I just think I have learned the patterns and have bypassed the actual openness/true vulnerability for blunt honesty. I can tell it like it is really well. That doesn't mean I can tell it like it feels.

In counseling, Pam asks me to use feeling words. I'm not very good at it, which surprised me. I'm really good at saying "I feel like..." but then I finish the sentence with "what I saw was inappropriate" or "this person is wrong". Not so much "I felt abandoned. I felt hurt. I felt angry." I use "I feel" to mean "My perception was this", which leaves open the possibility that I was wrong, I took things the wrong way, which seems to show that I don't place very much validity in my own experiences. I can easily take moral relativism to heart. (Lindsey and Dustin are arguing it for Ethics tomorrow, and think it is the most ridiculous thing to say, their whole defense is somewhat mocking). Is my story just as valid as the other person's? Are my feelings important? Or are they important just so they can be voiced, labeled and put away without any expectation of change in the other person's behavior. Is that one of the things that was so appealing about Stuart? "I do what I want", no apologies, but you should talk to me, you should share your feelings, you should spill your heart, what I do with it is my business? is that an accurate view of our communication?

I don't know what my feelings are. I can do nice, I can do giggly, I can do contemplative, I can be bothered, I can probably most easily access outrage, anger and bitterness, but primarily on behalf of others. I think sometimes I project myself onto the people I try to help. I got really worked up over Nait, and her story, recently. And then I realized that she's doing alright, she has come such a long way, and she is on her way to go even further.

And I? I have come a long ways too.

And I don't know where my heart is. I know a great many things about my Jesus. And I know that I am loved. But does my heart? and what does it need in order to start feeling more Real in the ordinary things? What does healing look like? Does this really go back to Stuart (like Pam says)? Or to my father before him? Or is is this just what growing up looks like, and I just think too much? Too much thinking, not enough actual living, actual experiences?

And if my God is as powerful as he is said to be, in the Word that is Life and Light and Truth, then how then do I behave? (We read Psalm 18 Monday night, and I was somewhat overwhelmed by how strong and overpowering the description was).

Dwelling. Growing. Attempting. Messing up. Questioning. Hoping. Looking elsewhere. Trying. Asking for help.
I am His. (and what does that mean?)

2008-09-21T15:25:00.000-04:00

I think it would be okay if I went home. Today in church, Steve talked about our primary identity as the church as being servants, and what that meant. The self-sacrificial love that should be 24/7 and not just for "community service opportunities".
I started thinking about the dichotomy between the idea that "I am called to serve Here" and serving the people around you.
At Whitworth, if my identity (rooted in being God's beloved) is that of a servant, I would stay here for forever, trying to serve those around me. I would love Kaitie slavishly, and I don't know that anything would change about her. But I would pour and pour and pour, and maybe even commit spiritual suicide like i did last semester. I would not be in my "sweet spot", the place where my passions/desires/gifts meet the needs of the world. I would continue to be out of place and disjointed.
I could do that. And I would find fulfillment through the International Students who come and visit our house, through the refugees that I would work with twice a week, the kids I worked with on Sundays. And if I did that, I don't think I would be trying to gain status, or be trying to prove myself to the world. I wouldn't be trying to prove myself to God. I feel almost driven by something, but I don't think its selfishness. I think its Jesus.
In the words of Shusako Endo, "I cannot leave the church, Jesus has me in his grasp".
And I am not perfect. I am not pure, except for the purity of Christ which he claims to cover me. I am so bitter and I am broken and I am overcompensating by being strong, but my strength is beautiful too, I think. I think I am right much more often than I actually am. I get frustrated by people who I judge. But at my core, I am Christ's. I have Christ in me.
I could stay here. I could manage to get through this semester, piecing together what I need to stay sane and emotionally stable. I could do all those aforemention fulfilling things. I could get the credit, go to South Africa, but then what? Am I going to learn better to appreciate what is here? Or will I continue to feel a call outward? Will I continue to be discontent?
I don't know that I was ever a college girl. The whole fun, lighthearted, careless existence while learning all these things that will eventually be useful is a neat concept. And I like doing that sometimes. And I like doing that with people that I trust (and appreciate me, I'll be honest). But I want more. you know?
...
So I could go home.
And I could start going to State. Or maybe FPU, but I dunno that I want to jump from one small Christian school to another. And I could still apply to go to South Africa. And I could study in Port Elizabeth or Durban, instead of Stellenbosch. And I could volunteer with GAYG girls. And maybe help with AcaDec at Roosevelt. And I'd go to Kyle's graduation. And I might get a job, move out. Or stay home, do the dishes. I dunno what friends I'd make. I'd get around on the bus and my bike. If I went home, I'd have to find a way to be moving forward, and not just slide back into high school. And I'd need to stay on track to graduate.
...
impediments to leaving:

money already paid for semester.
would feel bad leaving the class I'm TAing.
wouldn't want to leave Iveth.
have made new friends from all over. I like them.
housing contract?

If I make it through the semester, then it will be time for Stellenbosch, then it will be time for travel, then I could stay there, but then I would eventually have to come back here. I don't know that I'll want to do that any more then than I do now. What is the likelihood of my motivation being so strong that I will be able to push through and get it all done?
...
lots of questions.
searching. praying. contemplating for answers.
...
I am God's Beloved.
No one else gets to define my identity but Him.

2008-09-12T18:43:00.000-04:00

This is another reason why Whitworth sometimes really pisses me off.
Today, in my class on Political Change in the 3rd World, we had a conversation about a good book about poverty in India. Good discussion. Good learning. etc etc.
Until people started talking about how in the US when a crop fails its not that big of a deal. We have enough diversity of resources; we have enough government support, etc. etc.
But I don't think that applies to the Central Valley.
Like when ALL the oranges froze two winters ago. I said in class that people starved. I don't know that that is true. They died. I'm 90% sure of that. It could have been from the cold. lack of heat. lack of work. thus lack of money.

John Yoder said that people in Somalia or Ethiopia would have been jealous of the "starvation" in California.
I don't know though.
in 2001, 12.8% of " Low-Income Immigrant Households With Children" (granted, that is a lot of qualifiers) were Hungry; only about half were considered "stable" or secure in their food sources. Even low income families where the parents were born in the United States had a hunger rate of over 10%. Half of low-income families could not eat "balanced meals"

when crops fail and thus there are no jobs harvesting...
when no one comes into your restaurant or store because almost the entire town works in the fields...
when the food banks run out of food the second day of the week...
when so many kids qualify for free/reduced lunches that certain schools don't even require the paperwork anymore... (including the city high schools that my bro and I attended... not even just the ones in the countryside, which are poorer.)
when illegal immigrants don't qualify for Food Stamps...
when those statistics are over 7 years old, and the economic situation has only worsened since then...

what the hell do you think happens?
they bask in the nutrients of the American air?

http://www.csufresno.edu/ccchhs/documents/childrens_institute/Immigrant_Children_brief.pdf
Hunger and Food Insecurity Among San Joaquin Valley Children in Immigrant Families
Petra Sutton, Virginia Rondero Hernandez, and Kathleen Curtis
A Publication of the Central California Childrens Institute, California State University, Fresno

2008-08-30T01:15:00.001-04:00

Its the last night before I go to school.
Traditionally, for one reason or another, I end up staying up all night before I leave to go to Spokane or come back to Fresno.
Tonight I am exhausted, but I feel that I have so much still to say and process.
I spent this summer:

working at FIRM!
feeling the experience of being exactly where God wants me (finally again)
getting more action than Logan (lol)
feeling lost and confused (again)
hanging out with GAYG girls (LOVE)
not dealing with Whitworth issues

since I haven't been dealing, I've become bitter, about just about EVERYTHING that has anything to do with Whitworth. Is this healthy? no. Do I enjoy my bitterness? generally yes. Are there really good things about Whitworth that I've been conveniently forgetting? I really hope so.
And that is so sad.
Thats a sad picture of my heart. and thats a sad picture of the place that has been my home most of the past two years.
And I'm more or less dreading getting on that plane, and leaving Fresno behind.
I need to though.
I spend way too much time when I'm here thinking about the same thing over and over again. When I'm working, or hanging out with girls from camp, not so much; however, the past two weeks while i've been sitting at home, sort of working on things, thats when i do the most detrimental thinking.

Let go already girl. There's so much more AHEAD of you than what you leave behind.

A Story By Christine. Who has not written in a very long time.

2008-05-20T00:27:00.001-04:00

Show white space:

“I don’t care” she turned slowly to him one last time, searching for a glimpse of concern mirrored on his charcoaled face. His windswept hair had lost her attention long ago, but the sky behind him suddenly caught it again. Maybe she did care just a miniscule amount. He still said nothing, just looked deep into her eyes. They had been through so much together.

He had first come to her on the long flight from visiting her best friend in Durban. She had had to leave right after the reception, but after so much time spent planning, sending out invitations and counting RSVPs, Elisabeth was glad to leave Nichola to enjoy her new life. Nichola’s man was a dynamic adventurer who seemed to always be looking forward to conquering the mountain in front of him. Apparently he was worth over a million dollars. Nichola had had so many guests to thank, and Elisabeth didn’t trust herself when South African wine was so readily available. Thus, after greeting a few former friends, she had changed out of the ugly dress that Nichola had chosen for her and taken off.

She had been planning on sleeping early, to get herself back on Melbourne time, but he had been persistent. Even after giving up on sleep, she could feel his eyes on her as she caught up on her grading. He had been drawn by her fingers, he told her in a conspiratorial whisper. She had scribbled her name on the corner of the sheet of paper, thinking she would never see him again. The next week though, as she sat on the terrace of her favorite café, his face appeared across the table. She smiled at the memory. In Australia he seemed more down to earth, less stiff and flat. His eyes smiled more in the December sun.

Sitting in the barren loft, she noted the discrepancy between then and the present reality. She had tried, she really had. She’d tried to take the time that she knew he was worth. When that hadn’t worked as well as expected, she’d tried forgetting, avoiding, hinting, but she just couldn’t erase him from her life. So she had committed. She had dropped other engagements so they could have the quality time together that he deserved. In the beginning at least, she’d been captivated by him. She felt inspired after their afternoon adventures. Her friends didn’t understand, but then again, neither did she. She had always been the solid, practical, science and mathematics type. None of this romantic artsy stuff. This had been Nichola’s area of expertise. Maybe after living together for four years, and seeing her many exploits, she had picked up some technique through osmosis.

Nichola’s life philosophy was to show white space. An early trusted mentor had told her this after observing she seemed to crowd everything she touched. Nichola had written it out in calligraphy and hung it above the bathroom window, saying it reminded her to breathe, to say no to some commitments, and to let whoever was in front of her have a say, too. To some, the unorganized style looked unfinished, but it had freed Nichola from her perfectionist tendencies. Without learning that lesson, she would not have met Will, who would not have invited her to his studio that fateful night. She would not have been inspired by his daring creativity and would never have been able to tour with him. It was serendipitous the way that everything had fallen together for Nichola.

Maybe that was what Elisabeth needed, to give the soulful dark eyes some space. She sighed disappointed. He still hadn’t spoken to her. She stood up and walked across the room and said softly “I need some fresh air. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone”. Maybe things would look different after a walk along the river. She locked the door behind her, its not like he was going to do it.

Show White Space. Was it already too late? Was the creased forehead permanent? What was she going to do?

She was going to breathe. She crossed her arms and then realized her hands were filthy. Her new beige blouse had two dark handprints neatly above both elbows. Figures. She looked at her hands, unsure at the next step to take. Inspiration hit. If he wasn’t going to turn out the way she had always envisioned, well, he was going to have to deal with a new post-modern identity. She laughed; it came out slightly more maniacal than she had intended.

She practically pranced home, marched across her solitary apartment in the late afternoon sunlight to the place where he sat. She reached toward his perfect hair and smeared it up into the sky. Birds became jewels in his new poof that even Marie Antoinette could be proud of. She then reached for the towel for her hands. After wiping them carefully, she stared again, then reached for his shoulders, she blurred them into the trees, then stood up too quickly. She tripped over an end table on her way to her bedroom to grab the pastels too long unused. She smelled the chalky dust as she opened the box Connie had given her many years before. Grabbing the first two or three she touched, she rolled them between her hands. The forest green dropped to the ground and shattered. She set the pastels on the table, then reached for her soon-to-be masterpiece, and continued the destruction. Smearing ochre, sunset red and the traces of green all over his jacket, any traces of dignity were obliterated. After a few minutes of chaos, a method and pattern emerged in his patchwork jacket. Marie’s hairstyle was given ribbons of midnight blue and light grey. It flowed up and around the top of the paper. From the floor, discarded sketches looked on approvingly.

His chin. His chin was still too serious. He needed a shave. And to be less square. With the red-orange, she crafted him three new chins, each of which was followed with its own mouth expression. The mouths were in a brighter shade of orange, the label of which had fallen off during the first piece she’d ever seriously attempted, her freshman year of college. She giggled a bit to herself, neither thinking of how long it had taken her nor of how this portrait would be worth twenty times more than Nichola’s million when it was finally bought by the National Gallery forty years later and the two contrasting firsts were hung side by side, “heralding the inauguration of a new artistic era” according to the Daily Telegraph and clipped to the refrigerator unobtrusively surrounded by grocery lists, report cards and cutesy magnets

When she was done coloring in, over, around and through her formerly-fastidious charcoal work, she stood a few feet back. Too much she thought suddenly. The whole point of her inspiration had been Nichola’s advice. She grinned as she grabbed the rubber square on the windowsill and erased the heart out of her muse.

2008-05-19T13:41:00.000-04:00

This I know to be True:
That I am stronger than I have been before.
That I am calmer
That I still am bitter about a lot of things
I don't know what I should do about that
I know to be True
that God is Love, and above all else, calls us to love without limit.
I'm not very good at that
I love being Home, at least for the first few days
I love my brother fiercely, more than anything or anyone else on this planet.
and theres more. but its gonna go on a different blog. cuz it is kinda personal. and i need to write it out to figure it out.

Sort of poetry. i used to write better. maybe just further statements of fact. don't know why i've been feeling the urge to attempt to be creative as of late. i kinda like it. i also kinda wish it hadn't been so long. last night stu asked me about theatre. its been a long while since that too...

I belong in Fresno for more reasons than a late August night
For more than faint tea and brilliant sunsets or routines
To sweat is to be home, far from wintersnowcold
To wander Tower or Huntington or even Fig
infinitely more fulfilling than the Loop or even Back 40
Even Star-damntheMan-bucks is better than Mind and Hearth at school

I belong to Fresno for more reasons than the permanent pollution in my lungs,
The scars on my legs from fences and boxes, or the callouses on my feet
To be tan is to be healthy. to be pale grossandmiserable (nevermind
the skin cancer worries of the Inland Northwest)
To swim backyards or at the club or bike around or walk
legitimizes exercise to me, nevermind fitness centers or treadmils

for more than the murals on the walls, the graffiti on the streets
or the police helicopter that circled my old high school tonight
for more than the good Mexican food, or the announcements in another tongue
over any loudspeaker in almost any store.
for more than the fact that people don't "look different" (ie not-white)
when you've been here more than 5 or 6 days
for more than the political jabs made in the Fresno Bee, including the top 10
I belong in Fresno for more than a childhood, for more than mere roots,
I could be transplanted... i like to think... to any place slightly less xenophobic than Spokane of course.
i don't know why i belong here. i feel that it can't logically be any of these reasons. there has to be something more. or maybe theres not. maybe this is as close to Home as I'm gonna get.

Houseless/Homefull

2008-04-27T01:48:00.001-04:00

I find it funny that I have been more myself this week than I feel like I have been for a while. I was houseless for the week. Sleeping outside in the cold (woke up with snow falling softly on my face the first night). Asking other people for food. (No one ever refused). Spending a lot of time huddled. Spent a lot of time in public space (Whitworth makes me happy). And I laughed a lot. The things people said were truly funny. (perhaps due to a lack of sleep). We had a beautiful community of about 30 people (and some dropped out halfway through). We met every night to talk about the day. The good stuff. the bad stuff. Stories. the Happies and the Crappies. We napped in public places. Stole food from fancy Whitworth events. Some people sustained themselves by eating off the trays that people had deposited in SAGA. Once again: Beautiful. Our most pressing concern was always sleep. The warm places. The cool places. The soft places. The dark places. The windy places. the sheltered places. Some freshmen girls from Tiki took it upon themselves to bring hot water and cocoa and cider around midnight every night to whoever they could find.

We cuddled at night. For warmth of course. But it surprised me how much I miss having a body nearby when I sleep. I sleep so much more soundly (that might be due to how tired i was). Kristen my new friend was a very good snuggler.

And then I came back to reality. or real life. or whatever you want to call this carefree warm world of dorms and cafeteria food whenever you want. I have my laptop again, freeing me to continue working on this paper past midnight when all the buildings on campus are closed. I slept in my bed last night. Wasted six hours of my life watching movies last night. Listened to my insecure roommate try to reestablish the old relationship with her boyfriend Tyler (who also did the houseless challenge). I have stopped loving her, I think. And I think if I was more servile, it would bother me more than it does.

I wasn’t super close to Jesus in the traditional ways this past week. In fact, I’m still somewhat disillusioned with his followers since spring break. But, I lived in the trust and knowledge that I would be taken care of. I read the sermon of the mount on Wednesday, and I smilingly understood when I read the part about the lilies of the field. Whether it was from an unspoken inherent dependence on God, or a knowledge that the sphere of the world I was inhabiting was truly safe, I did not fear during the week. I was fed by others. I was encouraged by others. My community and I grew together. And somehow that picture of the Kingdom was more than enough to sustain me, even without the vocabulary attached.

I don’t really like it back in the easy life. I want K-Jo to see more to life. Or maybe just for her to see it like I do. big smile, I know I’m biased sometimes. I am alive. I am treasured. I can laugh freely in Christ’s Kingdom. I am not dependent on boys or male approval or any of those other things (Katie Petitt and I decided that my relational hopes should be looking forward to SA since they have eluded me so far on campus. lol. i’m hoping that there is some magic formula that some male will have inhaled so that I will find him mature, non-awkward, passionate and more. KP has her David here, so I think she might live vicariously through my dreams)

That night we slept fitfully in her car, Katie and I talked about dreams, and disappointments, and hope. How good we are at having high expectations and being upset when they aren’t fulfilled. We talked about many things. It was good to see an independent mirror of my heart.

The days went by painfully slow, but looking back, were so incredibly full (of blessing). I still had classes, still had homework. It was slightly more awkward to try to do hw, but at least, I could always leave to a more quiet place. I was unapologetic about that sort of thing, unlike if I was in my own room.

On days when I had water aerobics in the morning, I carried my swimsuit with me, waiting for it to dry so I could put it back in my backpack with the rest of the stuff I was carrying. I spread my bright pink towel over the fake trees upstairs in the HUB, with my speedo one-piece awkwardly hanging underneath.

I did most of my homework on one of the two computers upstairs in the HUB. Near a circle of couches upon which, generally, one or two of us were napping at a time. There were piles of baggage whenever two or more of us had gathered together. We were also unapologetic about that. (interesting metaphor that I might extricate further) We easily shared the food that had been donated to our cause, and at the end of every meal period, we usually had leftovers. Duvall had a prayer labyrinth one night, and donated their leftover communion bread and grape juice to us. We had delicious Jesus for breakfast for the next two days.

It was easier for some to ask for food than others. Kyle Navis as of Thursday hadn’t asked for food once. Some people took up fasting, while others (myself included) ate more than we usually do in a week. I had two blatant requests for food. and one coffee begging. I asked this girl Caroline, who I vaguely know, to buy me a Luna bar for lunch one day, which she did, but was somewhat gracefully confused about. And I asked Josh to buy me a muffin (more to see if he would or not than for hunger reasons…. is that bad?) He bought the muffin reluctantly, and definitely took three bites out of it before he handed it over. Silly boy. Maybe I’m judging too harshly (I know, probably shouldn’t be judging at all), but that boy is selfish even in giving to hungry people he knows. And just to exonerate/sanctify myself further, I will add that I went back to our group huddled around the fireplace and shared that chocolate chip muffin with everyone there.

Another funny Josh story. On the first day I was sitting in Lied Square (the lobbyish area of the HUB), and Josh comes awkwardly out of SAGA (after passing me earlier without greeting) and asks if I’m doing the Houseless Challenge. I say that I am, and he thrusts a banana at me, then walks away quickly. I’m a little upset about this abrupt interaction, especially the lack of actual conversation, until I hear as he walks out the door “Hey! that’s my roommate!” Tyler had been completely snubbed and ignored, while I had only partially been. Apparently what I experienced was the perks of having dating the interesting character of Joshua Steven Jensen.

I think, if I wasn’t going to be in South Africa next year, I would try harder to be inconspicuous. I would try to see if I could get people to feed me without me telling them I was participating in the Houseless Challenge. I would come up with reasons for carrying my various articles with me, or I would bring less stuff, and just have a normal backpack. Or I would try the fast thing a little more.

I love Whitworth. I love that Communities in Crisis (the club that sponsored this event) exists. And that there are other people who are attracted to things like this, and that we can experience and attempt to understand together. It would be interesting to see how much further this could be taken. (While still understanding that homelessness is so much more than our one small vain attempt). With more time it would feel less like an adventure, less like a camping trip, and people would probably get tired of feeding us. we’d also probably figure out new shortcuts, get better at depending on each other, and grow even closer. We’d build more permanent structures. We’d smell even grosser. And I think it would be an even more breathtaking picture of how we’re supposed to live as Christians.

2008-04-11T04:50:00.000-04:00

everything is familiar here, but in a foreign way.

so says my friend hanna.

i wonder where I'll end up. where I'll realize I belong.
The longer I stay at Whitworth the more fully convinced I am that I belong in some inner city neighborhood in the states. i'm sure my international studies degree will come in really handy.
i also want to go to UW.

i also need to be less obsessive. i could very easily get myself in trouble

so more later?

2007-12-14T05:03:00.000-05:00

When leaving a comment on blogger, it asks you to choose an identity. If only life really was that simple.

Today, I'm going to be dashing, vivacious, chatty and deeply interested in finding the real You

Today, I'm going to be withdrawn and contemplative. I'm going to spend several hours wandering the back 40 and come back refreshed and enlightened.

Today I'm just going to be lovely and graceful in all that I do.

Today I'm going to be intelligent and engaging in all my classes

Today i'm going to be someone that is asked out to lunch which turns out to be so mutually enjoyable that it becomes a weekly occurrence even if its never anything more

Today I'm going to invest in people without going dry or being fake.

Today I'm going to shine with this enduring neverending love

Today I'm going to love my roommates well. all day.

Today I'm going to be steeped in the knowledge that I'm my daddy's beloved daughter

if only...

confessions of a snob

2007-11-27T04:44:00.001-05:00

I'm a snob in so many ridiculous ways. and sometimes I catch myself thinking certain stuff, and astounded at how highly i think of myself while looking down on whoever/whatever I'm thinking about at the time. When did I become a snob? Have I always been?
things i'm embarassingly snobby about:

california
fresno
diversity (i'm getting racist. its really ridiculous. I've adapted to Whitworth culture in a lot of ways, and its been a while since I've been in Fresno/around Roosevelt, and so its like I'm losing my right to say something, but keep opening my big mouth anyways. only to groan about it immediately afterwards in my head)
fruit. (this i'm not especially worried about. freaking. tired. of bananas and apples.)
Mexican food. (this is just going to cause me grief for the rest of my life, so i need to suck it up and deal. and only go to Azteca during dinner hours, not lunch or midafternoon)
Theatre. (also getting myself in trouble for critiquing a program I'm not involved with. and therefore I don't know who is involved. and insult people accidentally to their faces. its really retarded of me.) Its like I'm so technical, i just get in that mode in a theatre, and i've lost somehow the ability to appreciate it as Art (with a capital A, yes).

And really, what I want. is to be an independent me. and be Me. but not in a way thats degrading that the people around me. And I want to be relational, and I want to love people, partly cuz I know its good for me, but partly cuz I really do care. And it really doesn't hurt to be Real (very often), but I don't know that I've even been that lately either. Well, i was this weekend, but that was offcampus so it doesn't count. cuz my community is here, on campus. and thats where I need to be. (need to be Real, Alive, Truth-full, Me).
wellp, heres to further refining (through relationships) and humility. (maybe.) ;)

Thoughts after the emergent conference.

2007-11-10T19:04:00.000-05:00

number one thought: i want to go to solomon's porch
number two thought: i want to be someone who dreams up this stuff. i want to be a part of a conversation. i don't want to simply live in someone else's application.
number three thought: this isn't about "church" in the meetings or in the time. its about life. or should be. this whole ideology could be easily ignored or picked apart (and i think that the speakers/writers/thinkers at the head of "the movement" realize that) or argued for days upon end, but what it comes down to (at least as i see it) is:
people, getting together, trying to figure out how to live like God wants them to, trying to live the kingdom, following Jesus, all that jazz, together in small communities (at first), and this is what they've come up with. and now that they've been living/learning it for a while now, trying to correct false impressions, and share where they're at.

i wanna live it. you know?
i don't want it to be theology out of a textbook (yes, i understand bible is a book of text about theology. yes. i do believe the bible. no, i haven't worked out the paradox of my desires yet. yes, i probably will soon)
i wanna live in this community of people.
oh wait, I do.
I live on campus, with three amazing beautiful girls who I get to love on, giggle with, eat with, do chores for, serve, and even occasionally be frustrated with. this is what Jesus is talking about I'm pretty sure. Or at least, what I need to be doing right now in the moment.

for all my talk dissing friendship at whitworth, (see xanga for full apology/annulment), my newest thought process is COMMUNITY. I know, not especially profound, but still, I think, closer to the answer.

Something that Tony mentioned a lot, is the idea of messiness. and grittiness. and not having all the answers, but going for it anyways. life is gross. and messy, and people generally suck. but somehow Jesus calls us back to our true humanity (what we were created to be) and gives us a little help when he says that when two or more are gathered together he comes too. just to help us along in the right direction. He is the way to Life.

And its really easy to get into arguements, but a little harder to discuss. Thats something that i've been missing as of late. conversations where we don't have all the answers. where we probe and prod each others thoughts. and play devils advocate, not for the sake of being right, but for the hope that it would lead to greater truth. or come closer to the Truth. how do I lead conversations to that place without it being me stating my opinion and people either agreeing or disagreeing, but not calling me out? Do I just start calling other people out? (this generally turns into argument quickly). i want to delve.
i don't have all the answers. the only problem with this...humility...? is that i really don't think you do either. and i'm also convinced in my mind, that since at least i've come to terms with my ignorance, I must know more than you. (kind of a socratic complex when i word it that way)
and if you think you don't know, you just don't say anything, and then we're still standing on square one, only now i feel dumb and full of myself for stating my thoughts so completely that they're now standing for truth.

once again, completely distracted before this blog ended.

I got all night to finish those two papers....

2007-10-31T01:54:00.000-04:00

So I get myself in trouble when I compare the present to my recollection of my past.
Thus, I'm going to say:
I'm worried because:
I don't feel very passionate
I don't feel accomplished enough to do much of anything important in the world
I think about boys too much
I feel like I've been judgmental a lot recently.
I don't act that intelligent that often.

and i'm really not okay with any of those. although. its not really the end of the world to think about boys.
So the question is: Have I finally acclimated to Whitworth's climate? What makes this year so especially different from last year? Do I care about who likes me (ie wants to be my friend) or doesn't? why would it matter? how do i stay emotionally present in the here and now?
where is Jesus in all of this? how do I remember the answer to that in the midst of all this me?

Communal Musings

2007-10-17T19:03:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot this year about community, and what it would look like to be the ideal community within the context of Christ.
some things that i think are required:

love of everyone, especially those that are not necessarily in the community. The love your neighbor as yourself is not an invitation towards gated communities (whether metaphorical or real)
acceptance of everyone. everyone is invited into the community, no one excluded.
in the community, you shouldn't be afraid to be yourself, your heart should be safe, but more than that (in Andi's words) known, served, loved and celebrated.

you should be free to know, love, serve and celebrate the other hearts in your community as well.

the community is the kingdom of God.
Therefore, it is what we are called to live our lives towards.
I don't think there should be any form of hierarchy in community, and the implications of this are where I'm running into confusion.

If I am actively attempting to love, then who do I share my secrets with? Where is the line between sharing where i am right now and gossip? How many people do I tell my current woes to? How do I balance being Real and being a force of joy when I feel less than joyful? How do I serve and lead without either of those vocations becoming masks I can put on at will? How do I humbly lead people in the direction that I think we should be going (ie, towards a more loving community)? How does this work when I am feeling inadequate or excluded from another group?
In Young Life, we talked about Jesus' method of discipleship: preaching/healing of the masses, teaching and spending years with the twelve, and having as close companions/explaining the nitty gritty with just 3. The level of investment increases with the decrease in group size.
But how does this translate to my life now?
How do we live together as lovers of Christ (and some not), without the hierarchy of in-groups? How do we avoid the temptation to catagorize on _____-enough terms. How do we avoid judging in order to make ourselves feel better? How do we love untaintedly? How do we live with people who think they are better than us? or inwardly convinced they'll never be as good as us no matter how hard they try?
How do I, as a beloved daughter of Christ, live humbly in such a way that he is apparent and my community is blessed through me? (blessing of abraham, we're talking about it in shalom)
.
We talked about the parable of the yeast amongst the bread in class today briefly. And how the entire loaf rises from a tiny bit of yeast. The flour doesn't really have any choice in the matter. And I think its interesting to contemplate oneself as yeast, but equally possible that one is just flour being risen by a piece of yeast a thousand particles away. There would be no way of really knowing. I'm not quite done with my contemplation of this parable, but it caught my fancy.
.
These are my thoughts for now.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

2007-10-15T06:50:00.001-04:00

Saturday, August 11, 2007

God you are good.
you are good to me.
for you are good
for you are good
for you are good to me.

Lord.

fluid somedays tend to crash(andburn)
In You, my somedays will be safe.
never tamed, e'er burning Light
steadily hope replenished
much more writing on the wall
than what the moon in his eyes reflected
abba. abide. abound.
no self-righteous words/sound/tone/thoughts
from me, please.
Mozambique. Iveth. Arabic. .children.
Afrikaans. Katherine. hope. love. forever trees (Bonsai)
daddy. any days, dates, dreams. :you
ne'erdowell logic apparently rejoins
pathos and muse warily photo-op agreed
above all else, hosanna
the king has come
i have been claimed.

2007-10-05T03:02:00.001-04:00

I came home tonight. Came home to Fresno. To my mommy and brother. We ate In and Out and my brothers been talking nonstop. he misses me poor boy. and me? i love him. i do.
I read Annie's blog. She is so beautiful and graceful. I am so not.
this isn't going to turn into self-pity though. I'm trying to be through with that.
When I read Annie's blog, it makes me want to be all grown up. I want to be married and blissful and just so jesusy, for no other purpose than jesus himself. I feel like I miss that boat a lot.
I feel like I am missing some key Peace in my life. That I'm going and going and sometimes doing well and sometimes not. (either way not really caring, but at the same time not being too deeply identified by too much else either.) I don't know where I fit at Whitworth, yet again.
I had a conversation with Josh last night, about why I came to Whitworth. I think the legitimate Me actually shone through for once.
This whole year i've been yearning to be known. (andi said in chapel the 4 great desires/fears of humanity is to be known/celebrated/served/loved and to know/celebrate/serve/love) and i want to be celebrated too. maybe all my frustrations that are starting to come out again are purely selfish in nature. I feel like I don't really have any Real relationships with people at Whitworth. and I guess I have this expectation that Christians of all people should be ok with being real at any and all times. my friends at home are Real, aren't they? (maybe Realness and christianity aren't mutually inclusinve... dundun dun) maybe i'm idealizing them, and maybe i'm just pushing people away by my intentionality this year. maybe there just needs to be more trust built.
maybe i need to just suck it up and deal with it.
.
i want to write about Jesus like Annie does. i feel like all I ever write well about is myself, and i don't know how i feel about that. i don't think its necessarily healthy.

oh sojourners, yay for you

2007-10-05T02:46:00.000-04:00

The great mystery of God's love is that we are not asked to live as if we are not hurting, as if we are not broken. In fact, we are invited to recognize our brokenness as a brokenness in which we can come in touch with the unique way that God loves us. The great invitation is to live your brokenness under the blessing. I cannot take people's brokenness away and people cannot take my brokenness away. But how do you live in your brokenness? Do you live your brokenness under the blessing or under the curse? The great call of Jesus is to put your brokenness under the blessing.

- Henri J.M. Nouwen

oh so ready.

2007-09-20T22:39:00.001-04:00

Ok Jesus. I'm really ready now. I don't know how my heart is going to stand being here and staying in the states for another year and few months. I'm so ready to be gone soon. Lord, I just want to go. I don't want to be patient. I know I have no idea what I'd do once I was there. but Jesus.
Jesus, help me be happy where I am. Help me be present now and here. Help me learn love here, help me learn you, help learn how to serve. help me learn obedience and community. There are so many things that i need to learn better. and I know You are here. and I know that this is where I need to be.
Lord, I just want to cry Jesus. I want to cry at all the beautiful amazing possibilities. I'm crying for what I could be, its so overwhelming. I just want to go. Its where I need to be. but i don't know why yet.
and God, I'm okay with not knowing. i really am. i promise. and I am good with being here. its just hard sometimes.
but thank you for your dreams. and thank you for people like alicia who help me remember them, even if they're a long way off in the distance. and thank you for the mean time too Jesus. show me how to make the most of it.
i love you daddy.
yours always,
christine michelle

2007-09-19T04:51:00.000-04:00

mmm Jesus.
mmmm South Africa.
grr for not feeling good enough
sigh at feeling crazy
silly eyeroll at random emotions that probably had best stay unnamed.

oh i love the message. like really. isaiah 26:1-6

2007-08-27T02:39:00.000-04:00

At that time, this song will be sung in the country of Judah:
We have a strong city, Salvation City,
built and fortified with salvation.
Throw wide the gates
so good and true people can enter.
People with their minds set on you,
you keep completely whole,
Steady on their feet,
because they keep at it and don't quit.
Depend on God and keep at it
because in the Lord God you have a sure thing.
Those who lived high and mighty
he knocked off their high horse.
He used the city built on the hill
as fill for the marshes.
All the exploited and outcast peoples
build their lives on the reclaimed land.

love

2007-08-23T18:10:00.000-04:00

my friend kelly, who is turning into a dear friend kelly, doesn't believe in love any more. not that i really blame her. sometimes i wonder why i don't either.
but deep down, i think everyone has to believe that somehow somewhere, love exists. and its so so so much more than sticky fingers and hot kisses. and that when poets eloquently rhapsody and romantic comedies soar at the box office, even those fall short of "the real thing".
The best place i know to read love is song of songs. (yes, it is about sex. yes, sex is a part of love. no, empty sex does not come remotely close)

"Love is invincible facing danger and death. Passion laughs at the terrors of hell. The fire of love stops at nothing- it sweeps everything before it. Flood waters can't drown love, torrents of rain can't put it out. Love can't be bought, love can't be sold - its not to be found in the marketplace"

i don't think she believes me, i don't think i believe me, when i say that i know this with such certainty because i have felt it. I loved Stuart. He loved me. I don't think i'm saying this just out of desperation and depression. I've analyzed the evidence left behind, and it all rings true. I'm convinced that what we said and what we did in the moment (the moment that lasted over a year once we both trusted each other) was True. And we were young. and naive. and it would have been miraculous for us to have lasted 4 years apart, but at the same time, a small voice wonders how much harder it could have gotten, not much, i don't think.

i just remember this feeling. this feeling of being Home. of feeling completed. of being accepted and cherished just for my existence. I remember one night laying in his lap on the couch watching tv, and never wanting to be anywhere else ever again. knowing that the pain of not having him around was something i never wanted to feel.

granted, things changed slowly. and there are always more "what ifs". and i wonder if my telling him not to come to WSU was telling him i didn't believe in us. somewhere along the way we got comfortable and forgot how lucky we were. didn't realize most couples aren't contemplating marriage in the first six months of dating. didn't realize a lot of things.

i know that things are over. and i know that theres more to life than romanticized recollections of things that need to stay behind. most importantly, i know that he's in college now and needs to live his own life as unrelated to me as possible. (and i him)

what is love?
"love is not enough" - kate (via logan)
"love is the appreciation and acceptance and laughter at someones foibles/faults/flaws" (or something like that) - margie
This is a creature on fire with love, but its still scary since most people think love only looks like one thing, instead of the whole world.
is it a fancy, or a feeling?..... or a Ferrars?

plus. just think how much better the real love of my life will be if stuart wasn't it. damn. thats gonna be HOT! lol. (and sweet and caring and emotionally present and a protector and a fighter)

qualifications for future Someone (lol)

2007-08-15T01:31:00.000-04:00

1. stubborn (-er than me)
2. trustworthy
3. loyal
4. honorable
5. passionate
6. be able to keep my heart safe(r)
7. be able and willing to do whatever it takes
8. not leave
9. know that theres so much more to life (ie knows Jesus and acts on it)
10. not be a smartass
11. be willing and able to talk to anyone (charmer?)
12. trusts me
13. romance me
14. deal with me
15. speak in metaphors with me
16. take me on adventures
17. seek the Lord
18. either help me let go of Logan completely or get closer to Logan than I am or otherwise take control of that situation (in a respectful and honoring way) or approve completely
19. talk with me
20. balance me out
21. be willing and able to both problem solve and create with me (not like making art with Stuart, our styles need to not clash...)
22. not get in intelligence battles with anyone, least of all me. (don't need him to be smarter/stupider than me, just needs to not need to compete in that area. such a freaking turnoff, gah, ew)
23. pass a kissel or similar stature person test
24. know primary first aid
25. keep me safe
26. love me for Me!
27. love Jesus in me
28. show me Jesus in him for me to love and learn from
29. be able to teach me
30. knowledge thirsty
31. peacenik definite plus
32. the more languages the better
33. heart for the poor
34. want diversity (in opinion, lifestyle, thought patterns, culture)
35. be able to cook!
36. sailer definite plus
--. pilot scares me
37. defender of femininity/womankind
38. functional family definite plus
39. desire for functional family
40. will make out with me at the teenage hangout when we're in our forties just for the laughs
41. will hold my hand no matter how old we are
42. will make out with me no matter our ages (warning: neeny has sex drive... but really needs emotional support for it to be worth anything)
43. will play make-believe (and banter, and use innuendo occasionally, and be able to take something and run with it)
44. will take me serious
45. will inspire me
46. enjoys spicy food!
47. enjoys new experience
48. is ok with not knowing what happens next
49. is ok with not having control
50. sees Beauty
51. loves my family for who they are
52. is someone who can create a family wherever they (we) are
53. reads
54. either makes money or is really really ok with not having any
55. passes a combination of lindsey/iveth/gillian test
56. wants more than 2 kids.
57. is a father figure/mentor without always realizing it
58. leads!
59. can make a home a home
60. innovative (makes something out of nothing)

2007-08-12T02:50:00.000-04:00

i don't have much of anything altogether.
i feel like i overcompensate for that sometimes with a stronger voice than i think i deserve.
in theory, i want the Truth. i want to Love.
in reality i want to not be lied to and i want to be loved
i feel like i should want Jesus more than Truth and Love, seeing as he embodies those (in theory).
he fills my heart
and it doesn't hurt
i'm irresponsible and messy
and my phone is probably dying, at this point in time. no matter when you're reading this.
my tummy is growling
but food doesn't sound that great right now
its almost midnight
thank you for this year daddy; and the rest of the years coming. thank you for those too.
i love you daddy.