Happy early Thanksgiving!

Friends,

I lament that it has been awhile since my last post. I can tell you that life has been BUSY! My responsibilities at work have increased substantially and I am extremely occupied most of the time. Today, I said goodbye to Sandra (my supervisor) because she’ll leave for her 3-month sabbatical while I’m in Spain. I don’t know what we’re going to do without her, but I have been assured that we’ll do a beautiful job of holding down the fort. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous!

This month, though, I’m fortunate to have some vacation time. Tomorrow, I leave for Spain to visit my sister (with Mom, Aunt Vicki, and B’s friend Al), so I’m extremely excited about that. It still seems really weird to be jetting off to Europe amidst my year of simple living, but trying to reconcile the two realities—life pre-JVC and this yearlong commitment—is always a struggle. I think, for me, missing this experience would be a major mistake and a major regret. It was so important to have my mom and sister visit me in Chile because they then knew what my room looked like, what the ice cream tasted like, the way my host mom’s voice sounded, and how amazing the view from Cerro San Cristobol is. These things need a place to land when you get home, and it’s incredible if someone you love is able to be that person who understands. I want to be part of that for my sister during and after her time abroad. I’m really excited, though I will honestly miss my community and El Programa Hispano. No doubt they’ll be present in my mind throughout the trip.

What else can I tell you?

In the Japanese Garden with some friends on Vets' Day.

I had Veterans’ Day off, and I took advantage of the fact that the Japanese Gardens were free that day. It was fun roaming around the gardens with Jenna and some friends from Morris House, though it was a bit too wet and cold. Still, I’d love to take some of you to the Japanese Garden if and when you visit. Normally, admission is about ten bucks, so it was a JV’s dream to have both the day off and the garden free day coincide.

My birthday was Monday, so I celebrated the weekend before with my community. On Saturday, we went to Edgefield, a really fun estate with spas, hotels, restaurants, bars, etc. We went to a $3 movie and then had a cheap wine tasting flight (delicious!) while listening to some pretty decent live music. We got lucky and the band was actually really talented, so that was enjoyable. Afterwards, we ended up at our local watering hole where everybody really does know our name (4^th Street Brewery). Lizzie spent the night after so graciously commuting to the ‘burbs to party with us, and the next morning she joined me and my community at Mass at a beautiful locale called The Grotto. Vic and Mom, you’d love this! It was another rainy day, but I’d love to return for the Christmas season’s festival of lights and again in the spring. Still, it was what I wanted to do with my weekend and I was so grateful that my community members came with me, even those who probably would have preferred to sleep in instead.

On my actual birthday, I received a delicious surprise at work when Sandra ordered an enormous, beautiful birthday cake for the staff on my behalf. So sweet of them! At home, we had dinner and I ate MORE cake, this one a marvelous pumpkin cheesecake creation, courtesy of the resident culinary genius, Ms. Lindsay Poston. I opened beautiful gifts from Mom and Dad and Molly, and gifts and cards have been trickling in throughout the week from a number of you. Seriously, you’re all too generous, too thoughtful, and too sweet. Everyone here is now completely aware that I am incredibly spoiled!

Another gorgeous rainbow in Gresham!

I’d love to tell you more (and I’m sure you’d love to sit there and read for an hour, right?) but lucky for you I have to go home and cook dinner, prepare myself to go to Harry Potter at midnight—you heard me correctly—and then go to sleep for three hours before getting to the airport to go to SPAIN!!! So, this is all very exciting.

I wish you the happiest of Thanksgiving celebrations. Someone please make sure my dad gets some turkey since our Spain escapades are disrupting the usual holiday plans!

Katharine, Mikey, Diesel, Crunchy, Jillian, and Brittany, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

And Granada, prepare yourself. Here we come! Nos vemos prontisimo, mi hermanita!

Love to you all.

Amanda 

Hope in Thin Places

Well, friends, here we are at the start of the best month of the year: November! Actually, it’s not my favorite… but it’s birthday season. So, a happy birthday month to: Brittany, Michael, Diesel, Katharine, Zak, Crunchy, Jillian, and all you other Valentine’s Day babies! I celebrate with you.

Here’s the highlight reel:

1. We have now converted from regular yogurt to Greek yogurt. I highly suggest grape nuts and a bit of honey with the plain yogurt. Yum.

2. I got to Skype with Britt! Of course, after catching up on her travels to Barcelona and Portugal, I now find myself behind again. She’s already come and gone again—to Paris, this time! I’m jealous, though I am awfully excited to visit her this month!

3. Jenna has been gone all week for med school interviews out east. We miss her! The house doesn’t seem the same when one of us is gone for this long. Still, we’re all sure she’s dominating her interviews. In her absence, some of the more vehement carnivores in our house planned a Meat Lovers’ meal at Crunchy’s last night (he happily joined in as our host and head chef). We had bacon-wrapped meat loaf, macaroni’n’cheese’n’bacon, and a salad…which we brought. I didn’t eat too much meatloaf. I don’t eat too much meat these days in general, though I still find it hard to pass up a good chicken salad.

4. I facilitated a spirituality night recently. We made prayer flags (in the Tibetan tradition). It went over really well! A big thank you to FJV Molly Wolk for the supplies and the support!

5. Youth Ministry has been going really well. It’s a good commitment for me in my “spare” time. Last week, I was able to channel some of the kids’ energy through a few dynamic activities I had planned, and they were really receptive. I’ll have to keep getting creative and dreaming up games that teach our lessons. It’s been fun talking to 8th-graders about things like social justice, peace-making, social sin, community, human dignity, and other important issues. It has also made me really grateful for the many people in my life who have shaped my spiritual journey… especially those high-school youth ministers who worked SO HARD. Our youth ministry program is nothing compared to the LIFETEEN of my high school days, but it’s a good program nonetheless and a good use of my time and talents.

6. After a busy morning last Friday (we had an All-Staff meeting at the Catholic Charities office in Portland), I helped Sandra finish putting together a baby shower for two of our staff members, Sara and Carmen. I came up with game ideas and facilitated those, which was an interesting experience since I’ve never actually attended a baby shower before! Anyway, it was fun. Which reminds me: congratulations to Greg and Mary… and welcome, Mia Marie! You’re beautiful!

7. The book I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived! I have been so patient!! It was incredibly tempting to go on amazon.com and buy it, have it shipped, and read it when I wanted to. Still, I’m trying to use the library whenever possible and, on occasion, purchase a used book. So I waited. Patiently. Forever! And I’m finally reading—slowly so as to savor!—Let the Great World Spin. I love it so far!

8. We are famous in Gresham. The guy at the front desk at LA Fitness knows us by name, as does Ginger, our favorite person ever from our local bank. She’s the only one who knows what to do with a “community bank account” that has nine signers.

9. MUEX XXIII, I prayed for you and thought of you this past weekend. I can’t wait to hear from some of you retreatants and leaders. I sincerely hope you had a wonderful Marquette Experience!

10. Halloween was a hit. We attended Crunchy’s/St. Henry’s Halloween parish party, held in our parking lot, and participated in Trunk-or-Treat (handing out candy from your car trunk). And then we went to the big kids’ party at Morris House and danced the night away. Oh yeah, and we had the best costume ever. See photo.

And now for a bit of elaboration on a handful of topics.

Primero (I typed that before I could even realize I was turning this into a Spanglish blog), I’ll tell you a bit about our JVC retreat, which was the weekend before last. We left on Friday afternoon, after having the day off, and met everyone at the retreat center near Molalla, OR. The grounds were lovely but small, featuring a few hiking trails and some beautiful fall colors. One of my favorite things about the Northwest continues to be the vibrant green moss that climbs all over the tree trunks, branches, and logs alongside the trails. It’s such a gorgeous color and it’s so different from the woods at home. Anyway, the retreat was for all of the JVs in our “Cascades region,” so there were some 75 of us in a cozy lodge. Sleeping was tough the first night because I was the first bed inside an oblong room full of bunks so I heard everybody walking past me to go to sleep. The next two nights, though, my body adjusted and I got some decent rest in my sleeping bag.

The best part about the retreat was seeing Beth and hanging out with Lizzie. I miss Beth, and I don’t see Lizzie as much as I wish I did even though we’re so close, so it was really wonderful to be able to catch up with them at a more leisurely pace. In addition, I got to hang out and chat with a bunch of other JVs, some of whom I hadn’t really gotten a chance to know at Orientation. The pace of the retreat was a lot slower than Orientation, too, which I appreciated. There was ample free time, allowing Lindsay and I to go on a 5.5-mile morning run, which was absolutely beautiful. We also had plenty of time to hang out as a community, and we even made dinner (for everybody!) and put on a skit, so we had a lot of laughs together throughout the weekend—as well as several important conversations.

The central “curriculum” of this retreat was about Right Relationships, and the tool we used to discuss this theme was a personality test known as the Enneagram. It’s a pretty popular test and you may have heard of it or perhaps you’ve taken it. Anyway, it’s a test that puts you into one of nine different personality groups, all of which have their individual strengths and areas for growth. There’s a lot of room for movement within the Enneagram structure as well; each personality group, when stressed, has a tendency to move toward another particular group, and the same is true when one is particularly healthy or “evolved.” So, it was interesting to find out what we all are, to talk about the way our diversity impacts our communication and the house dynamic, and to spend some time doing a bit of introspection. My housemates reiterated messages I’ve heard all my life from my parents and they echoed some of my own sentiments from recent conversations with Molly, so it wasn’t too tough to believe them when they all looked at me and said, “You’re an 8. You’re definitely, absolutely an 8.” Get ready to laugh…

Some of the EPH women before the baby shower.

Eights are the most intense of all personality types. They are most passionate about justice, fair use of power, and leveling the playing field so that the underdogs and the oppressed are no longer. They are assertive and opinionated, though sometimes this comes across as a bit intimidating or domineering. Some people don’t know how to respond to an Eight, which frustrates an Eight more than almost anything (aside from inaction). In addition, Eights are challengers. They push people to do better and to be more, but sometimes this seems overly-critical and perhaps a bit sharp. Eights need to watch the way they say things. They need to slow down. They need to be aware of their impact on others and seek to be a bit more gentle and patient in their presentation. I can already hear my mom laughing her butt off. Anyway, Eights are natural leaders, good friends and protectors, and extremely strong people. My housemates are not Eights. In fact, pretty much no one else on retreat was an Eight! Anyway, pretty interesting that Enneagram…

 Secondly, a bit of a reflection. On Friday, at our all-staff meeting, Fr. Byrne was the featured speaker. He is a Jesuit and actually said the Mass on our JVCNW retreat recently, so it was nice to see him again. He spoke mainly on the topic of hope, something that keeps coming up in my life! It has been an important theme, from the Camp Hope/Chile mine story to the poems, books, songs, art, and headlines that are catching my eye lately. It’s a bit puzzling, actually. But again this word came up when Fr. Byrne spoke to us at our meeting about continuing to look for beauty, joy, and gratitude—even after you’ve “considered all the facts” (Wendell Berry). I think this is a particularly important point for me right now, especially regarding my service this year. It can be really hard not to get bogged down by the pain and suffering, the injustice, and the struggle that I see on a daily basis. Sometimes it seems overwhelming. Stifling, even. It seems that my piece—whatever it is that I am doing this year or will do in my entire life—is too small.

But then I am reminded of my favorite prayer, often attributed to Oscar Romero, called “The Long View,” in which I am reminded that “we plant the seeds that someday will grow… we cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in that—this enables us to do something and to do it very well… we are prophets of a future not our own.” Fr. Byrne read us something else, called “Letter To a Young Activist During Troubled Times” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. (Please read and enjoy at your leisure.) The point is, there’s a whole lot that can get a person down these days. But somewhere in all of that pain and suffering, there is a space for joy. For gratitude. And for hope. In fact, it is in these moments and in people who are experiencing these hardships that hope, gratitude, and joy are sometimes the most palpable to me.

Fr. Byrne put this perfectly into words when he spoke of a Celtic notion of “thin places,” physical places—and I suppose you can extend this concept to people and even moments—where the veil between our world and the realm of the Divine is so thin that the Divine leaks through. Often, the Celts believed, births and deaths are thin places. The Celtic cross was one marker of thin places, which is why it is used on so many grave markers. I think my world is full of thin places, but maybe I go looking for them—on hikes, in the mail, and on my dinner plate even. And surely my work is a place full of them… I have no other way to explain the way my clients’ hurt touches my own heart and the pain in their eyes makes me want to cry. Fr. Byrne said that the poor, vulnerable, and marginalized are particularly close to the heart of Jesus (and thus particularly important to the Church) precisely because of their suffering. So, it is no wonder that thin places are often also the places, moments, and faces where we encounter these suffering hearts, these downtrodden and bent-over people (the anawim in the Sciptures), those who are loved by God in a very special way.

Today was an incredibly intense day at work. Perhaps I should title this blog post “Things that are not in my job description” because today was a parade of unexpected duties. I laughed when Sandra reminded me that, in fact, I am also here to perform “other duties as needed,” and that little clause means that everything and anything is in my job description! Today I created an agreement for a tenant and her landlord to sign. I advocated for a woman whose jerkface of a landlord is overcharging her. I am particularly frustrated with said jerkface because he leaves messages in English on my client’s cell phone and, knowing she can’t understand him, mutters things at the end of them like “These people are so retarded” that are clearly supposed to be heard by whoever translates these messages for her (me). This sets my little Eight self ablaze. Anyway, I also did some notarizing, facilitated another Dental Van clinic, argued with the electric company about one of my clients’ recent disconnections, and—here’s the big one—told someone that his brother was killed in a really ugly car accident yesterday and then proceeded to help make arrangements for shipping the body to Mexico (not cheap).

I am reminded again and again that there is a balance that must be struck. I cannot help but internalize things at work. Why? Because it’s not just work. This is what was so jolting to me when I was at L.A. Fitness and saw the résumé I had made for a client lying there on the desk. Suddenly, try as I might to pretend that I was in “my non-work world,” I became aware of the fact that there was never any separation between this world and my “work world.” The two realities coexist, and while I do have to leave some of the emotions, frustrations, and stories behind when I leave the office in order to preserve my own sanity, it’s impossible for me to leave it all behind. Is there any way to NOT think about this guy and his family today, for example, after I was told by the funeral director that the corpse is in awful condition? After I discussed embalming and death certificates and caskets all afternoon? I am not seeking to completely numb myself to the people and things I encounter everyday from 9-5. And I’m also not seeking to be so rattled by it all that my other relationships, or my self-care, suffers.

Somewhere, there’s a balance, and I think achieving balance in our lives is a two-step process (I should probably write a book about this). First, admitting that there’s no way we can do everything allows us to humble ourselves before a bigger, greater power of some sort. So, I need to continue to remind myself that I am a vessel (and a broken one at that) through which God can do God’s work. My job is to make my hands, my heart, my head, my time, my energy, and my talents available to God and to be patient and persevering even as I continually mess up the opportunities God gives me. Secondly, I think a lot of it has to do with something that Fr. Byrne also mentioned: seeking beauty and making sure that we keep beauty in our lives. Dorothy Day of the Catholic Worker movement allegedly listened to Mozart every Sunday and this was refreshing and rejuvenating for her in her difficult work with the poor.

The good news is that I see beauty all over the place. The world is dripping with it, and the people in my life are soaking wet with clear blue beauty. For example, the Sufjan Stevens concert on Friday was so incredibly moving and so astonishingly lovely, and I sat in a beautiful concert hall between Lizzie and Erin and let my spirit fill itself up—no, gorge itself—on Sufjan’s delicious melodies. And Saturday, I slept until 10, read for an hour in bed, went to the gym, took a nice shower, talked to Molly for two beautiful hours, and then prepared myself for Halloween festivities and dwarfiness. Then I danced all night with Lizzie (AKA “Easy Mac”… she woke up with bruises on her arms from dancing in a box) and spent the night in Portland. I woke up in time to go to St. Andrew’s with Lizzie, which is my favorite parish to visit when I’m in the area (it’s a hike from Gresham and pretty tough to make it for the 9:30 service unless I’m already positioned a bit more conveniently). There were so many families and cute kids at Mass, and the community is so warm and hospitable. Plus, St. Andrew’s is really close to Alberta St., so Lizzie and I treated ourselves to tea from our favorite place, Townshend, and then had gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches—mine had brie and red peppers, hers had artichoke and mushrooms—which we ate in a gutted out school bus. And then I came home and watched the Vikings [lose] and went to dinner with my community at Crunchy and Margaret’s. Beauty beauty beauty, gratitude gratitude gratitude, joy joy joy. Ahhhhh.

We ran into some Hillsboro friends before the Sufjan show.

I told my Spiritual Director that my spiritual life seems to be sort of flat and in a bit of a tizzy because everything around me is so new. I miss the infrastructure of Marquette—the built-in opportunities for faith enrichment and the strong faith community there. She asked me to expand my understanding of what prayer encompasses. “Isn’t all of this feeling and festering also prayer?” she challenged me. Indeed. And she suggested that, to help myself realize it, I try to include a Morning Offering of some sort in my daily routine so that one of my first thoughts is an intentional moment of offering the joys, the gifts, the pain, and the suffering of this day to God, entrusting God with all of it. That is perhaps the exact suggestion I needed.

Happy Feast of All Saints & All Souls. And, in solidarity with the feast many of my clients and staff members are celebrating, Feliz Día de los Muertos! Today I remember especially my beautiful grandmothers Mardel and Pat, whom I miss each and every day. The Celts often recognized death as a “thin place,” and I think it’s true. I feel the presence of the Divine whenever I think about my grandmas, and I know that wherever they are is a particularly thin place. As one poet says, the door to the Divine is surely cracked in that space and the light is escaping into this realm a bit more than in other places. Today, with much hope, joy, and gratitude, and knowing that the Divine is within and without me at all times, I remember also this man, the brother of my client, who has passed through that vaporous curtain, from this world to the next.

I'll never get sick of this mountain. Look at it now!!

Much love to you all. Happy November.

Amanda

PS Speaking of thin places, thank you to Mom for another lovely package (cookies perfectly intact!) and to Jill for sending me several copies of the Marquette Tribune. I can see the face of Christ right through you…

Little pumpkins.

 Happy Fall, friends.

I hope that you’re all taking time to savor the changing leaves and the crisp air of autumn (if you are somewhere where this is occurring, that is). I do love this season! The mornings here are a bit chillier than I’m used to at this time of year, but the days have been turning out to be pretty gorgeous. Yesterday, my house went pumpkin picking at a place called Sauvie Island here in Portland. I had a caramel apple—well worth the $3—and chose a few great pumpkins for carving and pie-making. It was an absolutely beautiful day; the sun was out, the place was full of families and cute kids, and a few of us bravely snuck into the corn maze because we were unwilling to pay, so that was fairly amusing. All in all, a successful fall adventure, as you’ll see in the pictures. We do love having our photo taken, you know. But, as usual, we’re short one! Jenna missed out on this particular outing.

This past week has been pretty crazy! The weekend before last, I caught up with two friends (separately); first, Tim and I met up at a gigantic used book sale, where I found a few very reasonably priced treasures. We then headed to Southwest to find a place to eat. After wandering around for a bit, we were verging on that exhausted, apathetic, moody phase when we stumbled upon the perfect Thai restaurant. My red pumpkin curry dish was absolutely wonderful, and Tim was generous enough to pick up the bill. It was great to see him and it was very nice of him to treat!

After that, I actually met up with another friend, Stephen, and Jenna joined me in having dinner with him and a few of his friends from med school in Arizona. They were in town to run the marathon on Sunday, and I brought Jenna along to ask them all sorts of med school questions as she is in the midst of that application and interview process. It was a really nice evening. The next day, despite the pouring rain, Jenna and I dragged ourselves out of bed and into the rain to watch Stephen & Co. in the big race. We cheered so loudly we almost lost our voices. A few hours later, when slow runners and the walkers were still going, we were joined by Jillian, Lindsay, and Linds and we five handed out water to the marathoners—a first for me, and a fun experience. I love the adrenaline of race day, and the event actually made me consider training for a marathon at some point. We’ll see about that. I might not be cut out for that, but I’ll surely do another half-marathon in the near future! (Ahem. Molls!)

.

Handing out water at the marathon. The sun came out!

That day, we actually had to head straight home because Anthony, our Area Director for JVCNW, was arriving at our house to begin his first of two area visits throughout this year. Anthony has been with us for eight days (today is his last) and has been interacting with and observing us as a community. He talked with each of us individually, something I found really helpful. He also facilitated some discussions between each of us and our respective supervisors. I realized once again how lucky I am to have Sandra and Barbara, two incredibly supportive supervisors. I feel incredibly comfortable with them, and they’re really affirming but also willing to tell me what I can do better. It was a good meeting. Anthony also facilitated a Spirituality Night with our community, something that we need to get better at doing regularly. It’s the goal of JVC that we do both a Community Night and a Spirituality Night each week, but we’re alternating so that we do one of those two every week. I’m excited to try more Spirituality Night activities because we’re naturally much better at Community Nights.

So we snuck into the Corn Maze. Judge all you want.

This past week was also the busiest week yet at work. In three days, we had two dental van clinics, one Legal Aid clinic, and an energy outreach marathon at EPH. We processed over thirty applications for energy assistance at our little office last Friday, and I was “in charge” of the whole event. I feel like it went really well, and I’m very happy with our results because we exceeded my expectations in terms of how many clients we helped. We also spent about $6000 too much, soooo we’re looking into remedying that. Today, Sandra and I called our “dear friends at the County” (her words) to ask about covering our negative balance. It shouldn’t be a problem because we’re getting more money eventually anyway, but we just don’t know when. How about, like, yesterday? Ha. All in all, the day went really smoothly, but I was absolutely DRAINED at the end of it all.

The Legal Aid clinic also went pretty well, although it’s always sort of frustrating because the lawyers can’t take cases for people who aren’t citizens or legal residents. This includes a lot of our clients. They can, however, come to our office for these monthly clinics and give our clients some much-needed legal counsel, a service that I still consider to be worthy of their efforts and time. I think we all wish that more could be offered.

This is a common theme, as I also came to realize today during the dental clinic. I actually got to do some translating (thought of you, Mom! Abre la boca!) for patients who were getting fillings and extractions, the only two things that really happen on the dental van. The problem is that some of the problems have progressed too much, and in certain cases the decay has reached the nerve, necessitating a root canal, a procedure that is absolutely out of the price range for many of my uninsured clients. So, I have to tell them that their options are to try to save the tooth and search for some sort of discount on the root canal (slim pickings) or they can have the tooth pulled and be relieved of discomfort but also probably miss that chewing tooth a bit. They’re literally not given any other choices, and many of them choose to “sacarlo” (pull ‘er out!) but that’s a choice made out of desperation—AKA not a choice at all—and that’s what bothers me.

This of course is not an issue exclusive to those I work with; plenty of people in this nation and in this world lack access to medical and dental care and/or insurance. What are we going to do about this? The issue is enormous and recent politics haven’t seemed to result in any viable solution. I continue to struggle with the fact that the systems and structures in this country are just plain inaccessible to so many people. In the meantime, as my community discussed last night, we must continue to do “band-aid” or charity work; there are problems that we can help with or heal, at least for the time being, in the immediate present, and that IS important and essential while we continue to look for a more permanent fix. Sometimes it seems like what we’re all doing is so small—after all, I can help someone with their light bill, but they’ll just get another one in a few months and they’ll be struggling to pay that one at that time—but the alternative (just don’t do anything) is simply not an option, now is it?

Thanks, Gustavo.

There were two definite highs of my week, and neither of them relate directly to my work. First, one of my clients (Gustavo) brought me a pair of moccasin slippers that fit just right. I told him that I absolutely loved them—and I need them because our house is SO COLD!—but I insisted upon paying him (how, I’m not sure) the $20 that he normally charges for these pretty little creations. He told me that they’re a gift, but I said that it’s only right that I pay him for his work. His response was, “You don’t get paid!” which, although a valid point, seems irrelevant to me when I know quite well that he doesn’t make a whole lot of money either (read: almost nothing). Now, I’m wondering if it’s in fact insulting to insist upon paying him when he was trying to offer me a gift? I talked to my community a bit about this, and some of them suggested that I should graciously accept the slippers without paying Gustavo because that puts us on equal footing: I offer him a service and he offers me this product of his handiwork. That makes us friends, equals, humans on the same plane whereas my insisting on paying him sort of keeps our “power” differential intact, that is, I am still the one who provides for him—energy assistance or fair compensation for a job well done—and he can never do anything to even things out. Thoughts? Anyway, the slippers are absolutely wonderful. See photo.

Daniel!

The other “high” of the week was the MINE RESCUE IN CHILE!!! Praise be to God! Last Wednesday was an absolutely beautiful, beautiful day. The first miner I saw rescued was the thirteenth or fourteenth, and I started crying on the elliptical at the gym. I proceeded to spend most of the day watching the live coverage on my computer at work (on mute) and tearing up each time they pulled another miner out. I’ve never connected with anything on the news in such a deep and real way before—I probably cried half a dozen times! The women, who had all gotten their hair and make-up done for the event, and the children, who cried and cried when their daddys emerged from the darkness in the Phoenix, and the rescuers, who bravely went down into the mine to save each of the thirty-three men, one at a time… it was all too much for me. The national pride was beautiful. The composure of these tough and humble men was astounding. The sense of community that I felt, not just from Camp Hope but across the whole world, was marvelous. It made my day, and I beamed when my mom texted me in the middle of Youth Group to tell me that the last rescuer had been pulled out—every single one of them, safe and sound, finally free after their 69-day ordeal. If that’s not a miracle, I’m not sure what is.

After a busy, busy week, I was excited for our potluck on Friday. We hosted a little dinner event for our support people (MaryAnn made two incredible pies: a rhubarb one and a peanut butter custard that was to die for). It was wonderful to have them all at our house because we rarely get a chance to return some of the generosity and support we get from them. Having Anthony at our house has been less stressful than all of us thought it might be. He’s a pretty easygoing and understanding guy, and we’ve all been so busy going about our business that we almost feel like he wasn’t even around! Of course, we have spent time with him, playing Bananagrams, chatting around the table two hours after dinner, and choosing the perfect pumpkin. It’s been a good area visit, and tonight he wraps things up by chatting with us about things he thinks we’re doing well and areas for growth for our community. This Friday, we are all off of work and partaking in a retreat through Monday afternoon, so we’ll be seeing him again soon. I’m really looking forward to a short work week, a get-away, the chance to see some other JVs (Beth!!), and just catch up on some R&R with my community. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Aside from retreat, other up and coming excitement:

Sufjan Stevens concert (the one that cost me ½ of my September money… and I have no qualms about that!): Oct. 29^th

Halloween parties with St. Henry’s and Morris House (I wish I could tell you what we’re dressing up as, but you’ll have to wait patiently): Oct. 30^th

And, in November: dinner with the Jesuits, Thanksgiving, various birthdays—including mine!—and a teeny trip to Spain to see Brittany!!  

Good things, good things. I wish you all the same!

Amanda

Happy October!

It's been too long!

How are you, friends? First of all, I apologize for my slacking as of late. Somehow, I have become incredibly busy. The last couple of weeks have been full of hectic workdays, delicious dinners, and many beautiful moments. I’ll try to walk you through the highlights without getting too wordy. Actually, that’s not very likely. There’s lots to report! Mainly weekend events. So, here we go:

My window makes me smile. 

I should back up a bit, to the weekend before this past one. I mentioned that I did Race for the Cure with people from my office, and I want to say thank you one more time to those of you who donated toward the cause. I was surprised at how emotional I got at the event. There were a lot of survivors there, wearing pink and crossing the finish line in a special lane, smiling proudly. There were also plenty of people walking or running in memory or in honor of someone who has battled breast cancer. This Race for the Cure is the largest on the West Coast, and there were TONS of people; it is truly incredible how many of us have been affected by cancer in some way. I teared up a number of times when I saw people’s t-shirts and banners, many of which bore photos of loved ones who lost their lives to this disease. The event was, for me, a mix of sadness and nostalgia but also an inspiring display of strength and community. I enjoyed walking it with the people from my office and chatting a bit with them, though I’m used to running these sorts of things so it felt a bit strange to take so much longer to complete the course. It did allow for more people-watching, though, and I think the best sight of all was a poodle…dyed pink! I definitely admired the spirit of some of the participants.

After Race for the Cure, which was on Sunday the 19^th, I hung around Portland for quite awhile. I met up with Lizzie for a bit, and we had an amazing chat together and treated ourselves to our first lunch “out” ($6 sandwiches). I savored every bite! We also walked around Powell’s, my “mother ship” (Lindsay P’s phrase) and very much enjoyed the opportunity to burn three hours there. I chatted with Molls, and by the time I met up with a few of my housemates for the 7pm Contemplative Mass at St. Ignatius, I was both exhausted and full of gratitude for the great, full day. The Mass itself was pretty cool—standard Catholic Liturgy, but without some of the extra frills. The lack of a procession made for a more meditative setting, and I liked the stripped-down celebration as it allowed me to just get in a reflective zone for an hour or so. I think some of the pomp and circumstance of Mass is sometimes intimidating to people, and I know that at least one of my housemates who was there with me found this Mass much more accessible. We’ll be back, I’m sure, and we have dinner plans with the Jesuits who live down the street! Also, my Spiritual Director, Joyce, who is amazing, lives in the same vicinity.

See, I find this creepy.

Fast forward through the work week (it was fine). The following weekend was Gresham’s Teddy Bear parade (freaky, actually—teddy bears on the front grills of giant trucks isn’t so much “cute” as it is frightening) as well as Polish Fest, which was free. I made appearances at both and found them each mildly entertaining. Jenna and I also made a visit to Morris House, where we were fed a yummy dinner (such hospitality!) and got a chance to take a tour and chat with some of the people from that community. We’re still all getting to know each other, but I like interacting with the people from the other area communities, so that was a nice way to spend the evening. 

Awesome women in the rain at One Spirit One Call.

On Sunday the 26^th, Lindsay and I attended an event called One Spirit, One Call, which I told some of you about. Basically, an 81-year-old woman in Ireland was infuriated and outraged by a recent Vatican revision to some documents, which put the ordination of women in the same sort of category (severity of sin-speaking) as pedophilia. This seems fairly apparently absurd and inappropriate to me, and there are many area women who feel the same way. The Catholic Church has always been extremely uncomfortable with the idea of women as priests, although there’s no good reason why they shouldn’t be able to serve their parishes in this capacity. Although women are able to teach CCD and RCIA classes, coordinate parish picnics and Liturgical celebrations, and lead retreats, they are not allowed to celebrate the Sacraments—a phenomenon and a double-standard known by some, cleverly, as the “stained glass ceiling.” 

So anyway, this “prayerful public witness” (think Mass-ish meets protest-ish) was a response to this outrageous gesture of discrimination and oppression, and it was organized by women from the Northwest, specifically Portland. It consisted of singing, proclamation of the Word, women sharing their stories, interpretative dance (lost on me), and some community sharing as well. All in all, it was a neat event and I was happy to be part of it, though I’d be even happier if some real change were produced as a result. I think we have a ways to go in that uphill battle, but it’s always nice to know that others feel or think the same way. 

  

We returned home in time for dinner at Jim and Mary Ann’s (two of our support people), which was absolutely wonderful! I won’t say much more except that we consider ourselves absolutely spoiled by our amazing support people and we are so grateful for all of the hospitality, delicious food, and great local knowledge they possess. I will say that I tried mincemeat pie for the first time (not my favorite!) and that there was wine. And brie. And I was happy.

Lindsay and I enjoying a drink at Coffee Time.

We recognize that we are being blessed abundantly this year, and I think that one of the greatest graces of this year thus far has been the opportunity to witness generosity as I’ve never quite experienced it before. It’s strange to be on the receiving end of so much giving and not be able to give back in a material sort of way. I think this is an important lesson, though, and a two-pronged one: first, it’s important to be generous, but it’s also important to know how to receive generosity; in graciously accepting things that are truly unearned and seriously unnecessary, I am able to let someone else shine and I am humbled by the love of near-strangers even though they know they won’t be repaid. After all, we shouldn’t give love only when we know we’ll be repaid. I think the second lesson here is that I have to be creative in my “giving.” This year, I can’t treat someone to dinner or coffee even though they treated me to something previously. I can’t buy expensive birthday or Christmas presents (sorry!). Instead, I have to think of ways to show the people in my life that I love them—creative ways that don’t cost a lot of money or rely on materialistic gestures. This calls for a re-examination of what it means to express love, and it draws me into a greater appreciation for the people who continually show me support and care although they know that I could never reciprocate that in exactly the same way. It’s not always about keeping tabs—this year, it can’t be!

Hard to read by candlelight!

In a spirit of abundance, my community tried something new last Tuesday: an energy fast. For one day, we used nothing (except our refrigerator) that needed electricity. I got ready in the morning by candlelight (NOT easy), ate in the dark, skipped my shower (the other option was a cold one), and went to bed incredibly early after realizing that I couldn’t read very well without the light on. I think this was a particularly useful experience for me because this is the reality that many of my clients face. As our busy energy assistance season gets going—and it has!—it’s important for me to be somewhat sensitized to the situation my clients are in. Granted, I could only get so close to their experience because ours was artificial and we couldn’t re-create the legitimate stress that they endure, not knowing if and when their heat or their lights will be turned back on. Still, this was definitely one way to get in touch with the role of technology and electricity in my life and to notice the ways that I can detach a bit from that on a more regular basis. 

Fasting, in general, always seems to do this; in “depriving” us of something, it also creates a space where that thing was. So, if we fast from swearing or offensive language, we have an opportunity to fill that space with thoughtful silence or affirming words. If we fast from junk food, we can fill that space instead with something healthy and nourishing. Similarly, if I fast from electricity and technology to a certain extent, I create a space for conversations and Bananagrams by candlelight with my community! This seems to be the whole point of simple living in general—and the reason that it shouldn’t be viewed as something that is merely depriving us. I’ve found myself being much more creative, much more relaxed, and much more reflective because I’m not filling every second with busyness. By emptying my world of certain things—TV, extensive involvement in consumerist culture, listening to music every time I’m in my room, and so on—I find new spaces for spontaneous conversations in the kitchen, long dinners, craft projects, exciting free events I might have otherwise overlooked, a deeper appreciation for simple things, and a greater valuing of people and relationships rather than material things. So, simple living is about “depriving” myself in a certain way; actually living on an $80 personal stipend is certainly part of the point. But an even bigger lesson for me is ideological, too: this realization that simple living can also GIVE me a whole lot.

Pretty amazing. The guy to the left was getting DOWN.

Speaking of free things: last week Thursday, I found myself experiencing pure bliss at ColdStone’s event, “the biggest ice cream social in the world,” where I got a FREE bowl of ice cream. DELICIOUS. Also, after that amazing experience, my housemates and I went to an event called Last Thursday, held every month on Alberta St., a trendy district I can only sort of compare with Madison or the east side of Milwaukee. But there were things that I would never have seen in either of those places because this was a genuine street fair, complete with “organic cotton candy,” flamethrowers, drag queens, and all sorts of other sensory overload. It was pretty interesting, to say the least. I got a beer for $1 and passed up all of the other hipster purchases that I probably could make myself if I really felt inspired. The best part, for me, was the people-watching… and the price tag (free!). This was Portland at its quintessential best.

The ladies of GSham with Karen at her house after dinner.

On Friday, one of my co-workers had us for dinner. Her name is Karen and, because the world is small, we recently figured out that her best friend (who lives in New Zealand) is my housemate Colleen’s aunt! Karen is 58, retired, a Chicago native but a very wise resource in terms of all things Portland, and an extremely active and culturally aware lady. She comes into EPH two afternoons each week to practice her Spanish and help us out, and it’s GREATLY appreciated because, these days, I simply can’t get anything done. I have a list a mile long of people I need to call and I just don’t get through it because the people walking in the door take precedence over that To Do list. When Karen’s there to help with making résumés or doing notarizations or energy assistance applications, I can actually get things done. She’s great, and it was so sweet of her to have us for dinner. Her two sons are grown and she really enjoyed having us all at her house; my housemates enjoyed her grilled shrimp and loved meeting her, and I was happy to share her! We’ve been so blessed with delicious dinners from people who are amazingly supportive of us and the work we do. We’re not an easy presence; in fact, we’re a bit overwhelming when you get us all together. What’s more, the Rooster (Daniel) couldn’t come to Karen’s, so we were one chatty bunch of women that evening. Her husband Dave handled it in stride (these men are amazing!).

I love Mt. Hood. What a beautiful day!!

My weekend continued to be absolutely wonderful despite the fact that I had no plans. On Saturday, I went on a hike with Daniel, Jenna, Colleen, and Lindsay. We went to the other side of Mt. Hood (and found sunshine!) and did a hike of 8 miles or so (not sure, actually) called Elk Meadows. After an uphill path led us through eight switchbacks, over some narrow dirt trails, and past beautiful mossy trees, we found ourselves gazing at a lovely meadow. The fall colors are just starting to peak out, so the landscape was sprinkled with spots of bright crimson, and it was a perfect clear, warm day. We were treated to the best view of Mt. Hood that I’ve seen yet (see picture), and we had such a good time. I was so grateful for my community that day because not all communities are up for spontaneous hikes. Part of the reason I wanted to be in the Northwest was because I envisioned this part of the country as a big breath of fresh air, and that’s exactly what Saturday was. We returned home for a lasagna dinner and a relaxing movie. Perfect.

Daredevil!

Finally: Sunday! I went to Mass with Lindsay at Downtown Chapel, a parish right in the middle of Portland that consists mostly of homeless or low-income people, many of whom struggle with addictions and other issues. They are a support and strength network for one another and the homily was definitely geared toward them but relevant for all of us, focusing mostly on persevering in hard times by depending on God and asking for even a small dose of faith. It was a really special experience and I hope to be back. We got lucky, actually, because it was their annual picnic day and so Lindsay and I, after a brief stop in Powell’s (I can’t NOT go), went to the picnic and feasted on some amazing food. We also saw Lizzie and other Mac House people there, so it worked out really well! I had a concert to get to (I’ll explain that soon), so I then took the bus to the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall and enjoyed a beautiful show with the Oregon Symphony Orchestra and Hilary Hahn, a violin phenom I’ve seen once before (totally a fluke) with Josh Ritter. She is incredible and it was absolutely amazing to see her playing with the OSO because they put on a really great concert every time. 

As for how I found myself here: Fr. Don, a priest we met at our dinner with Jim and MaryAnn, had a ticket and was planning to go until he got sick. He and Linds, my housemate who has played violin for years and has been adoring Hilary Hahn for as long, had discussed the fact that they were both going to this concert. When Fr. Don got sick before the show, he called to see if Linds had purchased her ticket (she had already done so) or if anyone else in the house could use his since he wouldn’t be able to make it. I gladly stepped in, having no Sunday afternoon plans and knowing full well that Miss Hahn is spectacular. I found myself next to three strangers (Fr. Don’s friends), who were welcoming and sweet. I loved the show and the chance to sit and enjoy some beautiful music for an afternoon. How lucky am I?! Moreover, how generous are people?! No one should feel badly for us—we are incredibly taken care of here!

The "Schnitz." It's gorgeous inside! So is Hilary Hahn!

In general, less exciting news, I should tell you that the gym membership situation is up and running and we’re in a routine. I go in the mornings with Linds and Lindsay and am currently introducing both of them to weight training, which they’re really grateful for. I love my morning workouts, although it’s getting harder and harder to get up because it’s so much darker in the morning than it was at the same time just a month ago. Also, youth ministry is promising to be exciting. We had our opening night last Wednesday and celebrated Mass together. We didn’t break up into our small groups so I didn’t get time with my eighth-graders, but I did meet several of them (they seem wonderful). I kept flashing back to my youth ministry experience at St. Raphael’s and remembering all of the people who are still so important in my life. I realize that most of the kids I work with this year won’t remember what I teach them, just as I don’t remember too many specific Life Nights, but they will remember me if I am a relatable mentor for them. That’s an exciting opportunity. Lastly, I have been reading a ton of poetry this month and it’s really  making me happy. More importantly, I’m writing again after quite a dry spell, so that’s cool too. (If you want to see poems, let me know.) So, all is well. Community is good and I consider myself blessed to be a part of our household. We’re still getting to know each other, but I think we’re doing quite well.

I love you all. Thank you for reading all of this!!

Shout-outs:

Grandpa: you amaze me.

Mom: thank you for the dental supplies, on behalf of all of GSham.

Bee: happy ALMOST birthday!!!

Midnight Run: I thought of you on Miles for Meals day. I miss you all.

Catí: it was beautiful to talk to you tonight. You inspire me. Te quiero mucho, amiga.

Have a fabulous week!

Amanda

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Courage & Community

Today marks the 50th day that the 33 miners in the desert of Chile have been trapped underground. For those of you who haven’t been following the story, it could be until November before they get out. They receive food, music, medicine, and other necessary and psychologically helpful items via “palomas,” containers named after carrier pigeons, also known as doves (lovely, right?). BBC’s coverage is pretty good if you have missed the saga: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/special_reports/chile_mine/ .


My heart breaks for the families who are waiting hopefully but anxiously on the surface, and I am astounded by the strength and resilience of the men surviving in the dark, damp, hot mine. Several have celebrated birthdays underground. One has become a father (he got to see a video of the birth that he couldn’t attend). One is diabetic. The guys have formed three teams, and they rotate shifts to stay busy, make sure everyone remains healthy, and keep things running smoothly. I can only imagine the bonds that they are forming in such a uniquely stressful situation. It reminds me once again of the strength of the human spirit and, moreover, the power of community. I’d be willing to bet that one miner alone would be in far worse shape than these guys, who have formed a squadron in the trenches. I will continue to pray for them, and I can’t wait to celebrate with Chile when they are rescued.

As for courage and community closer to home, most of you probably know that my grandpa had emergency gall bladder removal surgery yesterday and was in pretty critical condition as of last evening. I was preparing to book a flight home after I got word that he was on a ventilator after the operation and that he didn’t seem to be doing well. The first words I heard this morning were my dad’s, who called at 6:30am (ten minutes before I woke up for my run, as it turns out—don’t feel bad, Dad!) and told me that Grandpa’s situation was looking much brighter. This afternoon, I learned that he is off the ventilator, joking with the nurses, insatiably thirsty, and his usually feisty self.


My biggest concern when I am away is that something will happen to someone I love at home; I know that Brittany shares these same worries and has had difficulty being in Spain during this ordeal. Still, every time something like this rocks my family, I am reminded to count my blessings in the same breath as my prayer for healing, recovery, or what have you—my family, in spite of (or maybe because of) our oddities, is a squadron in and of itself, and we are led by an incredible patriarch who never ceases to amaze me. Grandpa’s fallen on some hard times—a stroke, a bike accident, several miscellaneous maladies, and now this, all in the past couple of years since Grandma Pat’s death—and I’m awed by his Depression-era perseverance. In addition, I’m continually grateful for our small, tight-knit family and for the support that we’re able to give one another, across states, continents, and oceans.


I get homesick sometimes, but most of you are only a phone call, email, or Skype session away. And missing you reminds me to count you among my many blessings! Every day at work, I talk with people who are alone in the deepest sense of the word. Any family they might have is miles and miles away, struggling to make ends meet somewhere in Mexico or Central America. This week alone, I probably met twenty single mothers; one had five children, and when she told me what her monthly income is, I nearly gasped because it’s nowhere near enough to help those babies thrive. One of my favorite seniors (coincidentally, the one who reminds me of Grandpa) needed a doctor’s appointment once, and I asked him if he had anyone who could accompany him, possibly someone who spoke English. He has only his wife, a Spanish-speaker with her own health issues. They hang on to each other for dear life because they have absolutely no one else.


To have a community is a beautiful, beautiful gift, one that seems much easier to take note of during the darkest and most difficult moments when we rely on others the most (or notice that we are mostly alone). Living in community, in the JVC sense of that concept, is not always easy. We disagree. We probably annoy one another. We come from different places. We have to make sacrifices. But I understand 100% why a primary focus of this program is this striving to live in harmonious and supportive relationships with others. We need each other! Period.


Viva Chile! And hurry up and heal, GPa. I love you!


Amanda

Small World, Long Post.

Alright, I was having some serious formatting issues. Here's the post, without any fun pictures. Trust me-- I tried!

One day this week, a lady came in for help filling out some SSI forms. Her name is Sandra and she comes to our weekly luncheon with the cute seniors. She often brings her granddaughter, the one who calls me “her friend.” Sandra gets social security because she has a disability. The money she gets is somewhere around $600 and it doesn’t even cover her rent and other expenses, so she still needs to find assistance elsewhere and she’s usually just scraping by. Her son, when he can, helps her pay the rest of her rent. Well, social security found out about this and informed her that they would be revoking some of the “extra” money they’d been giving her since she had been overpaid for several years.

Sandra, of course, wanted to fight this because the money she was getting from social security was by no means being pocketed or used for luxury items. I asked her why she hadn’t reported her other income source as she was supposed to and she said that it honestly hadn’t occurred to her—she’d read the paperwork for SSI years ago and hadn’t looked at it since, and she didn’t remember or really understand that particular rule. She should have reported the assistance she was receiving from her son, but I still couldn’t believe I had to fill out papers for her because they wanted to take back the little money she was getting to pay her bills.

I began filling out the paperwork, starting with her name, address, phone number, etc. “Qué es su número telefónico?” I asked her routinely. She began telling me her phone number, starting with the area code. “Cuatro catorce…” I stopped writing for a moment and looked up at her and then back at the document on my desk and then back at Sandra again. In Spanish, I asked her, “Did you say 4-1-4? That’s a Wisconsin area code, right?” She nodded and told me it was from Milwaukee, where she used to live. I knew it was a Milwaukee area code, but I couldn’t believe the “small world” connection. We stopped doing her paperwork for awhile and chatted about Milwaukee. She told me that she used to live there, that most of her family is still there, and that she’d moved at least four times within the city.

Her last residence had been near the intersection of 16^th and Lincoln, very near the United Community Center where I worked this past summer. I asked her if she knew of the UCC and she said she’d been there once or twice. I told her I went to school there and that I had worked on the south side. Her eyes lit up when she realized I knew her neighborhood, but a sad expression quickly moved across her face. “That part of town has gotten really bad,” she told me, “I used to feel safe but I didn’t feel safe there anymore.” I told her I knew there were a lot of problems and that I was especially concerned with the public school system in Milwaukee. We had a little talk about MPS and my desire (though I’m not sure if and when I’ll act on this) to be a teacher in an MPS school or to just do something to lift that system out of the huge hole it’s in (along with most public school systems in this country). She sighed and smiled softly. “If there were a few more people like you,” she told me before we resumed her paperwork, “we could fix some of these problems.”

I know that there are other people who are dedicated to fixing our broken systems. The people at my work are beautiful examples of this each day. My supervisor is honestly amazing. She has a son and two foster children (with many behavioral and drug abuse issues) and she has A TON of work on her plate at our office. She’s been with Catholic Charities for a good 10 years and she is taking a break later this year because she is absolutely burned out. This is obviously a huge danger for people working in social services; after tirelessly advocating for marginalized people who come to our office, she needs a break. She’ll be going to Mexico with her family for three months this winter (which makes me pretty nervous about how things will work at our office!), and I know that she needs it.

Still, despite everything she has going on, she manages to smile and greet everyone in our office, give them her full attention during a conversation, answer numerous questions from me and the other new employee, and keep track of more things than I even realize she’s organizing. Today, right before lunch, she asked me where I was going to eat (since I usually go home or go to a park bench). I told her I thought I’d go check out the soup selection at a bagel shop nearby. “I have soup at my house! Have you had posole?” she asked me. I told her I had no idea what it was. “If you want to try it, grab your jacket. Let’s go. I got a new truck. I’ll show you my tomato plants. You’ll like posole.” I was caught off-guard but I grabbed my coat and left for lunch with her. Posole, as it turns out, is delicious—it’s a recipe from Jalisco, Mexico (where she’s from) that’s usually made with pig but is commonly made with chicken instead. I liked it a lot, and I enjoyed having lunch and chatting with her. She’s extremely approachable and supportive and has been an amazing mentor for me so far. Plus, her tomato plants really are something!

Another person at our office, Karen, is a weekly volunteer. She’s retired but commits to two afternoons each week at our office, helping with things like I do—translating, notarizing, energy intake, phone calls, etc. She’s a really hip 58-year-old who knows all about hiking and biking and live music in Portland. This week, she brought in a book called “100 Hikes in Northwest Oregon” and said, “This is for you and your housemates. And I’d love to have you all over to my house for dinner sometime soon.” We’re officially invited to have dinner at her house next month, and I think it’s so sweet that she wants to meet all of my community members. As further proof that the world is a very small place, I should mention that we recently discovered that Karen’s best friend, who lives in New Zealand, is the aunt of Colleen, who lives in my house!

Also this week, I went to a meeting about Youth Ministry, which is going to be my Wednesday night commitment from here on out. I’ll be working mostly with 8^th-graders, and the educational portions of each evening that I will help facilitate focus on topics such as social justice, making decisions, and personal spirituality, topics I’m pretty excited to discuss with kids who are at such an interesting point in their development. I will say, though, that it will be a unique and challenging situation; I’m leading the 8^th grade sessions with two retired folks, one extremely animated lady named Mary and another very serious, very professional man called Dean. The three of us are meeting next week to make a game-plan for October.

Mary’s goals include turning these children into “soldiers for Christ.” I would like to remind her that Jesus was nonviolent. Anyway, we’ll see how our generational differences mesh. Dean was mostly concerned with how to evaluate whether or not we are successfully getting the information into the kids’ heads, something I assured him that we will fail at for the most part (I remember nothing from 8^th grade). The most important thing, for me, is that these kids feel like church is a community that they will continue to come home to, get involved in, and depend on in times of joy and in times of sorrow. I want to see them making relationships with one another and with God. And I want to be a good mentor for them because I can tell you for certain that what kept me coming back to my own youth group was a combination of spiritual inspiration and faith sharing AND my wonderful youth ministers, many of whom are still very important people in my life. I think it’s a good experience for me to have to work with two people who are a bit older and who come from a different era, but I know that it’ll be a challenge at times. In college, I got used to a faith community that included mostly young adults. Eighth-graders and retirees are two new populations for me, but I think it’ll be refreshing.

In other spiritual news, I have found a potential spiritual director named Joyce Ann who sounds positively awesome. We’re meeting next Monday in Portland, so we’ll see how the pairing feels. One of our spirituality nights the other evening was watching a movie together, a film called “Religulous,” which was mostly about the craziness of fundamentalists of all sorts and the violence, hate, and exclusion that has been the result of perverted and extremist sects. It was incredibly biased against institutionalized religion, calling it something that we create only to make ourselves feel better, something that we would turn away from if we had any sense, something that makes us feel powerful because we pretend that we have a sense of certainty about things that any “reasonable person” would doubt.

I think that it’s possible to have faith and have doubt in the very same moment, and I didn’t appreciate the very narrow view of religions, although I do recognize that religious extremists have indeed caused immense hurt in the name of their Gods. Anyway, my community continues to give me food for thought, and I think it’s good; people of faith SHOULD ask themselves, “Why IS faith good? What does my faith do for me and for others? Why DO I believe what I believe” However, I have no plans to convert to atheism, and I am excited to be able to share my faith in a slightly less critical context when I meet with Joyce Ann. 

One more thing (because this post is a bit long): I must leave you with a small immigration rant. Let me tell you something about how our system works. When someone gets arrested and put in jail for something and when that someone has no “papers,” the criminal charges get taken care of first via the usual series of hearings. Then, he gets taken away by immigration, at which point he is given an alien registration number (A-number) that is akin to a social security number in that it’s kept fairly confidential. According to the immigration officer that I politely interrogated this past week, every detainee is given an opportunity to make a three-minute phone call to a family member or a friend. During that call, he can tell them where he’s being taken (which detention facility) and he can give them his A-number so that, from that point on, family and friends can track him as he is thrown around the system and they can leave messages for him. Without that A-number, it’s very hard to find out any information about detainees in custody. When the detainee makes the phone call, he has to write down who he called and sign a piece of paper. If he opts not to make a phone call, he also has to sign some sort of document. If he speaks Spanish, this is supposedly done in Spanish.

Well. Why do I get so many wives and sisters and cousins coming in and asking me to help them find out where their loved ones are being detained, when they have court, etc.? I asked the man on the phone how this system is failing my clients. Something is clearly not being communicated appropriately because I simply don’t buy the argument that all of these detainees have opted not to call the women in their lives and give them their A-numbers. I tried to help one such wife this past week, but we really couldn’t get anywhere. The one time I got lucky and got that guy on the phone to tell me someone’s A-number was a huge fluke, I’m realizing, because most immigration officials will not dispense that information—no matter how cute your voice sounds on the phone. So, we hit an all-too-familiar dead end when I asked for information about this lady’s wife and was asked if I had his A-number, which I didn’t because his wife doesn’t have it and hasn’t heard from him. She happened to come in a few days after he’d been moved from jail to immigration, but I had to figure out which center he was at. Something just seems so messed up to me, and it breaks my heart. I know we have a lot to work on when it comes to our immigration system.

I don’t think we should just “let in” everyone and anyone who wants to come to this country. I don’t think that building a wall is the best way to go about it, and I don’t think that streamlined deportation hearings are very humane or are serving as a deterrent for the desperate people who are risking everything they have—including their lives—to get to the United States. Something needs to happen so that the process of coming to this country is safer, is more regulated, and is perhaps less sought out not because we treat all those who attempt it with complete disregard but because we have worked to make their OWN countries better places to live. Furthermore, once these people are here, I would like to see their life chances improve. I would like to see 18-year-olds who came here as children and have completed their schooling here have a reasonable path to citizenship to pursue so that they can go to college as citizens of the only country they’ve ever known. I’d like to see people whose husbands and brothers are arrested because of legitimate wrong-doing tried humanely and given rights throughout the process. I’d like to see information better communicated and people in detention centers being treated with dignity. I understand that we need to secure our borders, protect American jobs, and take care of “our people” as well, for there is plenty of poverty across all ethnic lines. But isn’t there a balance?

My community members and I were talking about what would happen if someone told Americans they had to give up some of their creature comforts and relinquish some of their luxuries because the United States has decided to step down from our position as Superpower and try to level the playing field by allowing some other countries to rise a bit. I feel like this wouldn’t go over well. We’re part of a global community and until we realize it, I fear we’ll just keep messing up other parts of the world and then, when people flee those parts and come to our country to pursue the American dream, they’ll be met with a reality that is just another variety of harsh.

That’s your weekly rant from me. Thanks for tuning in. This experience is accompanied by a plethora of emotions, ranging from outrage to awe-struck joy. I enjoy sharing it with you, and it helps me process, and I thank you for your feedback and your support. Please keep the updates coming, too! I love hearing what’s going on with all of you, and I hope that your weekend is wonderful and rejuvenating.

Molly: HAVE SO MUCH FUN at the wedding! And on Mackinac Island. So jealous.

Thank you to all of you who donated to my Race for the Cure cause. The walk is Sunday, and I am honored to be a part of it and to contribute all of your support.

Sharon: My prayers are with you and “your vet” on your Stars and Stripes flight!

Chile: Happy Independence Day.

Love,

Amanda