Searching for the Light

Advent. My favorite season of the year.

A season of anticipation.

A season of preparation.

A season of Darkness.

And there is always so much darkness this time of year. This time of year we spend so much time, energy and money trying to convince ourselves that we should be happy. Somehow, we have allowed that idea to translate into buying things for ourselves and each other... because the more stuff we have, the happier we'll be, right?

Nothing puts that happiness to a hault faster than tragedy. And we've had plenty of that, haven't we? Personal or local tragedies aside, I can't even list all of them that have made it on national news and strongly impacted individuals throughout our country. Not the least of these, of course, involve shootings. Killing our innocent children. 28 lives lost in Newtown, CT. A 16 year old in Pierre, SD while his 16 year old friend sits in jail being tried as an adult...

Did you hear me say 28 lives in Newtown?

I wish that number didn't catch you off guard, but if you've watched the news at all, I bet it has. They keep talking about 26 lives. 20 children, 6 teachers/administrators... but let us not forget even for a moment and even in the face of tragedy that 28 lives were lost that day, including the life of the shooter, age 20, and his mother, the owner of the gun but as far as we know an innocent by-stander.

Any life lost is a tragedy. EVERY life lost is a loss. Life is Sacred, and we should mourn for ALL of these lives we have lost.

There are so many places this conversation can and even should go, and I will be among the voices calling (again and again) for more gun control.

But first: let us grieve together. Let us rest in the darkness if we need to. Let us grieve together and process these inconceivable circumstances: but let us not forget our call to care for all people.

In the midst of a call to pray for the victims' families (and trust me I have a great deal), I can't help but to keep coming back to how quickly we forget.

We forget that people suffer. We forget that much as those families are surely living in hell as they are without words or understanding... as surely as they are mourning the loss of their children, mothers and sisters... so too is a family grieving the mystery and confusion and pain of losing a mother and a brother and a nephew and a sister... and while they try to process that loss, they can't help but to feel guilty, pained and at a loss of words for their own flesh and blood that owned the weapons and pulled the trigger.

And while I won't defend actions, and I don't believe anyone should own such weapons of destruction, I can't help but to push back. To ask us to consider the hell that young man was surely living in long before December 14. A hell that he lived with every day that eventually led him to that tragic, heart-breaking day of events we will never forget. I can't help but wonder how many others out there are living in hell... and I wonder how many people in each of our lives we are failing to reach out to because we can't be bothered. Because we're tired. Because they're hard to deal with. Because we have more questions than answers. Because we don't understand.

...because we think dreadful results of unattended mental illness will "never happen to us."

Mental illness itself is not cause for such tragedies as these, but it cannot be ignored, and we cannot pretend like we are doing anything short of harm by ignoring it.

I have struggled with depression. I have struggled with anxiety. Mental illness, in all its forms, great and small, is a terrible form of darkness that can feel overwhelming and inescapable: but it's not. There is help out there if we are willing to reach out... if people are willing to reach out to those in need...

Advent is a season of Darkness, and this year in particular, there seems to be darkness all around. Depression is rampant during the holidays. Pain of loss and tragedy are all around us.

But let us not be consumed by it.

Let us never forget that even in darkness, the Light shines. With each passing day, it shines brighter still.

Soon, the Christ candle will be lit as the child of Light is fully revealed to us on Christmas.

And then? Then we shall not find happiness we so often associate with the season. Then we shall find JOY.

JOY of the Spirit that comes with the knowledge and understanding of what it really means that "God is with us."

This kind of JOY can be present even in the darkness. Even in our pain. Even when the world around us seems to be falling apart.

And yes: even in the midst of tragedy and unanswerable questions.

Because the light shines bright, and the darkness, no matter how hard it tries, cannot overcome it.

Thanks be to God.

A Decade Later

A lot has changed in the last 10 years.

Like any other American I’ve ever talked to, I still remember vividly every detail of this day ten years ago. I remember where I was at 9:47am EST. I remember what I was wearing. I remember who I was with. I remember how I felt, and the overwhelming confusion and disbelief I experienced as the day seemed to move in slow motion.

It amazes me how much I remember about that day, and how the days, weeks and even months that immediately followed seemed to do so in slow motion. I was, after all, still a child. A youth of 17 years that thought I was all grown up and ready to take on the world. I had just begun my senior year of high school, and I was excited about venturing out into the world I (thought I) knew as I prepared for graduation the following May.

Yes, I remember it all with amazing detail. And yet it isn’t the details alone that I keep thinking about today: its how those details shaped, molded, changed me from the inside out. And in a strange way that I haven’t quite figured out how to articulate, I can’t help but be honest and say that I am grateful for the ways I have changed as a result of this terrible tragedy.

My eyes were immediately opened up to a world beyond my local community: I’ll confess I’d never gone out of my way to engage with national or global news, and it wasn’t readily available in the small, contently isolated town I lived in. For the first time, I realized there was a world of people out there who hated my country I’d been raised to love, and even more difficult was the realization that those people also hated me, purely because of where I was born. They didn’t know that really, I was a good person and didn’t want to do anyone harm. And they didn’t care about the individual stories of the people in those planes, the World Trade Center, or the Pentagon, either. Following from this realization, I also had another first: for the first time, I began to question our administrators, Republican politicians (I’d been raised to always question Democrat ones), and “defense” techniques.

I had a lot of questions.

The most powerful questions I immediately and unexpectedly faced came from my adversity to the hatred I was surrounded by. In the following days, weeks, and now years, I heard many racial slurs and ethnocentric statements referring to all people from the Middle East - especially “those Muslims.” I admittedly didn’t know the first thing about the Middle East or the politics around it. But Muslims? I kept hearing how terrible and hate-filled and anti-America they all were… and yet I couldn’t forget the details of my morning of September 11.

I couldn’t forget that since it was my first day back to school post-knee surgery, I got there early so I didn’t have to fight the hallway traffic on my crutches. I was just getting settled when my friend Basim came running in going on about details about some big accident at The World Trade Center in New York City. He turned the television on and we watched in horror as one building burned… and seconds later we watched the second plane go into the other tower…

I remember the details of lots of emotion, horror, confusion and fear that followed. I remember crying together with that small class, Basim included. and I remember that he was as confused and sad as any of us. I also remember that Basim seemed to fill in gaps for the many questions I had in my admittedly naive awareness of the world. You see: Basim already had a global perspective. I’d never thought much of it before, but Basim was from Pakistan. And he is a dedicated to his faith tradition: Islam. I had always respected him for this, especially in our white, “Christian” community.

So if Basim (and his family) were the only Muslims I’d ever met, and they were great, trustworthy, honorable people: then how could the world suddenly be afraid of and full of hate toward all Muslims? That certainly wasn’t my experience…

My naive questions have proven to be incredibly formative in the years since then. Instead of buying into the fear I’ve been sold, I have continued on living my life... working adamantly against that dreaded 4-letter F-word: Fear. Instead, I work toward living into Faith... and the love of ALL God has called us to...

I made the mistake of stopping and watching television for about 5 minutes this morning. I took a moment to mourn with the mourners. To listen to the sad voices reading names. To hear an interview clip from “the last survivor” who was pulled from the rubble. These stories are moving, and sad, and did their job of making me emotional, bringing me to tears as I relived those dreadful moments with the rest of the country…

and then I walked away. I couldn’t watch any more. I don’t want to forget (I never could) - but it isn’t healthy to re-live it, either. It was a terrible enough day to live through once. We can’t do it every year. I know I can’t. Not even on the 10th anniversary.

But I couldn’t let my sadness go, and I couldn’t figure out why.

So I moved on and walked to my boarding gate to take a seat. That’s right: my boarding gate. Today, on a day that most of my fellow citizens are most afraid to fly, I am not only flying, but flying into Washington DC’s National Airport: where my plane will touch down on a landing strip right next to the now fully-repaired Pentagon…

Why fly today? For one, I’ll be honest: it was convenient. and I didn’t really think about it when I booked the flight. I did realize it in plenty of time to have changed it: but why? To let  fear win? I do not believe in fear. Especially not this irrational, media-induced fear we have been sentenced to live with. On the contrary, lets be honest: security is so high today that it’s probably one of the safest days to fly.

So I am on my plane as I write this. And as I do so in an intentional stance of my rejection of the fear many want me to have, I do remember those whose lives were lost in 2001. But my sadness does not stop there.

Instead, most of my sadness is focused on the survivors. It is wrapped up in remembering victims of the fear-induced hatred that has engulfed and changed so many of my fellow American citizens.

The country I live in and that I am proud to be a citizen of is one whose citizens spent hours building sandbag walls around every house in my home community when they were threatened with flood waters. It is one that wasted no time arriving to help victims of the multitude of tornadoes that hit this past spring… And that took care of and celebrated with my teammates and I small town after small town when we were hot, hungry, thirsty and exhausted while riding our bicycles across America in the heat of summer.

That is my favorite picture of the America I love. It is vast and diverse and embraces the joy of community as we were able to realize that really: no matter where you come from, we are more alike than different.

The America I truly love is the one that opened my eyes up to the reality of the world as I watched the Twin Towers fall. As I watched people on the other side of the world dancing in the streets because we were suffering (an image I regrettably saw in reverse when Osama Bin Laden was killed…), I knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such hatred for the first time. Living in my naive bubble in my small town in South Dakota, I really did not know that people hated our country, culture and people until that day.

So as we look back an talk about “10 years later” - that is what I keep thinking about. About how fear and anger have consumed much of our society. I wonder (perhaps hope?): is this the same as it has always been, and my eyes are more open to it now? Or, is there something we can do to stop it.

It all starts with one. As I sit aboard my American Airlines flight into DCA, I renew my pledge with you - all people of the internet (who are still reading). A pledge to do more to “act justly and love mercy” - and to walk HUMBLY with the God who has been so full of love, justice, and mercy for me.

Won’t you join me? I promise, the world will be a better place...

Rainbows

I can't stop thinking about a little girl I met at church yesterday morning.

About 9 years old, she was well spoken, respectful, and a bundle of positive energy. She was mildly bashful when first introduced to me, but when I was trying to leave 10 minutes later, I was not allowed to walk past her without engaging in conversation.

Not just any conversation, though. She was referred to me by (Pastor!) Jeff, who I imagine was as surprised as I was when she asked him, in the midst of all the flooding and chaos going on in the McCook Lake/Dakota Dunes area:

"Why does God let bad things like the flood happen? Is God angry?"

What a profound question, my darling. If only we knew what went through God's "mind."

Perhaps the reason I find myself still thinking about this conversation a day later has to do with the intense and thought-provoking conversation that followed. I found myself challenged by the honesty and genuine questions of a (9year old?) little girl. She wondered aloud, "will we be wiped out like all the people except Noah?" as she also made astute observations like, "when I am sad it is like it should be crying outside. and when I am unhappy a storm... when I am angry a Tornado (etc)." Is that how God works, too?

I began with the most well-known story of a flood: she was well acquainted with Noah and reminded me (in her words) that there, too was a story of God seeking vengeance on God's creation for all their wrong-doings. I asked her if she knew what happened at the end of the story and was promptly told, "the ark was left on dry land, but even they were stranded on top of a mountain!"

Searching for the message of hope offered to us, I asked, "Do you remember the rainbow at the end of the story? Do you know what that means?"

"That God was angry and we should be careful."

I wasn't sure what was worse: that we teach our children the difficult pieces of stories to instill fear in them, or that it seemed there was no sign of hope in a story that really ends with an ultimate reward offered to us: a covenant with God. How great that we have a God who offers us hope and love and makes promises to us that are not dependent on anything we do?! God covenants with us purely because God cares!

We talked about the rainbow and its promise and she was entirely unfamiliar and so she continued, asking equally thought-provoking questions. Eventually, I found I could leave her with only this:

God loves us and when we are sad, God is also sad. It is not always that God wants bad things to happen, but sometimes they do. It is then that we should remember how much God loves us, how God even sent Jesus to show us that, and because of Jesus, we know that God really does understand how we feel. So when we are sad, God is sad too. When we are hurting, God is hurting. When our homes flood, God is cries with us through our struggle and is sorry that we have suffered and lost so much. God does not want bad things to happen, but God does want to help us find hope and to offer us strength as we find ways to pick up our lives and begin anew.

That, my friends, is why we have the rainbow. and today… my rainbow and reminder of hope came in the form of a little girl...

Emily

If you read here often, you may remember me talking about a girl who I now consider like a little sister, and whose parents I consider good friends. Emily is one of the most brave people I have ever known, and her courage and hope and optimism are contagious.

I am happy for them that they have been able to be “home” in the USA for the past couple of months as Emily continues to receive treatment. But I miss them! and I wish I could be there for Jen, Matt and Emily as they continue to struggle. The road has not been easy, and they are still quite a distance from the end.

This week I was able to have a good conversation with Jen (Emily’s mom) over the phone for the first time since August. Emily had been on my heart and in my prayers more than usual lately, and I just felt I had to phone and check in. It was GREAT to talk to Jen and I hope to talk to Emily and Matt soon too, but more than that, I am glad for an update.

The thing about crises like Emily’s is this: everyone is there for you at first, and then people move on. You can’t blame them. People have lives they have to keep living, and while the Kerstetter’s lives have virtually stopped to give Emily time to heal, we understand that this can’t be the case for everyone.

But right now, I’m asking you to stop. And Pray.

Emily is not well, and continues to struggle with a great deal of pain. After being home for two weeks, she is back in the hospital again and facing more operations, as shrapnel remains in her right leg and is causing problems.

We knew it would not be an easy road for Emily, but we also hoped it would not be this difficult. Please join us in prayer supporting Emily and her family. Her spirits are down and the more she struggles, the harder it is becoming to pick them back up again. Pray for her family (mom, dad, sister) as they care for her and try to find balance in their lives that have all but stopped.

Please keep praying with me.

Blessed to be a Blessing

My friend Veronica runs a school for 3-5 year olds in a run-down, difficult community. Appropriately named "iThemba," which means "Hope," this school in Capricorn (part of the Vryground community) is across the street from a drug house and few houses down from a shabeen. There is no sense in trying to protect the children that attend her school from what comes alongside such settings: they already know. By the time the children (ages 4-5) reach her classroom, they’ve seen it all. They know more about life and its hard lessons than most pre-teens. Or at least more than I did when I was that age.

For example: one morning this week, they had a discussion about how things were going for them at home. As they sat innocently in a circle on the carpet, two of her pupils (again, 4-5 years old) told a story of how they’d accidentally lit a bush on fire: while smoking cigarettes. Last week, she reports, they had a conversation about condoms and what they’re used for, because one of her students brought one and asked, and other students snickered in disbelief that they didn’t know. If she doesn’t talk to them, Veronica says to me, someone else will. It may as well be a conversation in a safe, controlled environment.

I will never be one to tell you that I had an easy childhood. I didn’t. From a young age, I too saw and experienced things no young child should ever have to. And yet, I cannot even begin to imagine what life is like for these children.

So today, I asked if I could just come and spend the day with them. I had no agenda except to support my friend who has a very, very difficult job. After being shown around the school, I made my way the the playground where the children were carrying on doing what these children should do often but seldom get the chance to: play. I ran races, spun in circles, pushed swings, climbed on a jungle gym cheered as they took turns on a slide.

I saw and experienced what I was told to expect, but how it felt cannot be so easily described. The pain, the distress, and the need to be loved was more evident in this group of 50 children than in any other group I have ever encountered. It was heartbreaking.

and yet… while it may be selfish, it also absolutely made my day. Not to see the hurt and the pain and the need, but to be able to see them be loved and cared for. Not by me! Good heavens, I hope I was able to love them a bit, but they need more than an afternoon. They need consistency and discipline and structure: these too are forms of great love. At this school, I know they have that.

They have that because my friend Veronica and her colleagues are the most committed, hard working, loving people I have ever seen at work.

Others told me what a strong, wonderful woman Veronica was and that maybe a visit would be an opportunity to encourage her. No doubt this was true, but it also served as something more: an opportunity for me to see the hands and feet of Jesus hard at work in the form of a beautiful woman who knows nothing less than how to love people well.

I pray that my own ministry can one day be even a remote reflection of what hers looks like. and I pray for Veronica’s continued courage and passion as she works to share the love of Christ with the children of her school in Capricorn.

Real Life

I just got home from what turned out to be one of the most restorative and life-filled weeks I have had in the past two months. Where was I, you ask? With friends. In Durban, to be precise, but then that’s just a city. The location didn’t matter. The conversations with people-who-get-me, the hospitality and no-expectations, the just-be-yourself-safe-space did matter.

This combination of days turned to a week were just what I’d been looking for. and to think: the day before the journey, I was still debating if I should cancel it. I just have too much to do, important people I want to see and spend time with here in Joburg, packing and planning to do. What terrible timing for some “holiday” I planned months ago, before I had any idea how much my life would change between then and now.

How my life has changed is a blog I’ve been mulling in my head as I try to figure out a way to share about it: when that comes, or when I am more settled into those changes (whichever comes first), I’ll be sure to share all about it. In the interim, I’m resting in one of the things I have taken away from this week.

Now: This moment: That’s all that matters.

In the past few months, perhaps since moving to South Africa, I have been overwhelmed with stress or anxiety. For the first time in my life, I was made physically sick by all of the stress in my life. If you know me at all, you know the magnitude of that statement, as I have certainly been no stranger to stress. Some of this was self-inflicted, the most of it wasn’t. But I suppose the result of stressful things you can do nothing about is often more stress. So the cycle continued.

This past week, I stepped out of my growing bubble in Johannesburg and visited some American friends living in Durban. It was good to spend time with them and digest some of my life from the past few months. They understand all too well the elements at play in my life here, and it was healthy to digest and process my life with people who understand but are outside the situation. The opportunity to be honest and take down the walls of protection over involved parties was like a breath of fresh air.

Fresh air. Spring is in the air. In Durban, some days are so warm you forget winter has not yet passed in full. Fresh air on the beach, soaking in sun on my first full day in Durban could not have been a more welcome treat. We sat for hours in silence, listening to the waters crash, the birds chirp, the people laughing and talking around us. Beautiful Serenity.

Days that followed brought trips to good coffee shops (finally- good espresso!!), watching movies, non-work related chatter over countless shared meals and games of cards. We played with their 3 cats and I visited with their Monday night Bible Study group. I even read an entire book - the first time I’ve managed to finish a book since February or March.

All of this, and as I sit home reflecting on this “ordinary” week that didn’t involve typical site-seeing tourism as may be expected on a vacation (and first trip to a new city), all I can think about is how great it felt to be back to “normal.”

No negative stress. No overwhelming anxiety. No to-do lists looming or people questioning my actions. No one to check in with. Just time with friends, space for honesty, and a bit of healthy competition over a few too many rounds of “Nertz.”

At the end of the day, I can’t help but wonder:
    Maybe this simple stuff is what life is really “about.”

Trading My Sorrows

Today I was at the hospital visiting with my new friend Joanne - an incredible woman of faith - when the words to the song "Trading My Sorrows" came to mind. I haven't been able to shake these words since then, and I am realizing that this song which already has great memories tied to it, will now take on new meanings in my life.

Today, as I hum this old tune late into the evening, I realize that I am thankful for the way the most unexpected, unanticipated things can turn into such rich blessings and moments of joy - even in the midst of sorrow and pain.

Joanne has served as an incredible example of what it means to "Trade our sorrows" over the past week, and I am incredibly thankful our paths have touched - even if they could not have done so if it were not for the pain and suffering she must endure.

Trading My Sorrows

I'm trading my sorrows

I'm trading my shame

I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord.

I'm trading my sickness.

I'm trading my pain

I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord.

Singing yes Lord, yes Lord, yes yes Lord...

I am pressed but not crushed,

persecuted not abandoned.

Struck down but not destroyed.

I am blessed beyond the curse

For his promise will endure,

and His joy's gonna be my strength...

Though the sorrow may last for the night,

His Joy comes with the morning

What it means to be loved.

Excerpts from an email sent to a trusted friend today in regard to the situation I wrote about in my last post: “The Face of Injustice.”

2 days later, I'm still angry. But mostly I'm sad. and equally helpless.

The situation I wrote about is deeply personal. It is not just “a man” I wrote about, but a friend. It is difficult because I feel like the whole situation has "moved on" and nothing has been done. I spoke with my friend - the man who has still not been paid - this morning. His boss has "apologized," but still no money has been seen. He says there will be pay tomorrow, we'll see. Poor guy. He can't go anywhere, he literally has nothing and no one.

As with any human situation, there are just so many layers. They have no place to go, and so life goes on. It is such a delicate situation. I want to act on their behalf, but I can't because I know in the end it may very well NOT be better for them. The last thing they need is us making his boss even more angry, pushing him away and reducing chances that they would receive any money. And with xenophobic attacks increasing and threatening to get worse again, they would rather be "safe" here and not paid than being in danger out on the streets of the city. Or freezing in the cold with their 2-year old.

Its difficult when these situations that would make great ethics situations to argue over in a classroom become real-life, and action is so difficult.

Its also difficult when the last two mornings began for them by being yelled at by their boss/landlord. Yesterday her. Today him. Will it ever stop?

Also - I feel sorry for their boss. I have not stopped thinking about this situation, about these people. Though I could easily say a dozen terrible things about him, the reality is I can’t stop thinking about him; I feel so, so sorry for him.

The more I know about this situation and the parties involved, the more this is true. The boss doesn't know how else to treat people. He has learned from his own terrible experiences. He has shared stories of his own life: people have always taken advantage of him, stolen his money, broken his heart, etc. He is lonely. I wonder if he has anyone who really, truly loves and cares for him? The stories I have heard suggest not. They suggest a life of being taken advantage of, being used, abused, and spat upon. If this is what he knows, can we expect him to display different actions?

Don’t get me wrong- I am not excusing him for his actions. He is still responsible. But hearing his story - it helps me to be compassionate, and it breaks my heart for him.

Can you imagine living that life? How can I not feel sorry for him? How can I not see his broken side and also seek to love him as Christ calls us to love, to help to heal the broken, even when it calls us to see beyond a thick black cloud of sin and brokenness?

Music. This is what I do when I am too full of thoughts to function: I listen to music. First, I thought of him when I heard a song called “Either Way” by Guster: “Were you ever kind? Were you always cruel? Who’s ever seen that other side of you? Happened every time, so it must be true: where did you learn its either him or you?”

Seeing both sides of the cycle of brokenness and pain is important to staying grounded in why it is we are called to “love our enemies” - a difficult but foundational part of our call as Christians.

That brings me to point 2 - A prayer that is Scriptural and that we've heard a thousand times, but so honest and realistic and appropriate here - "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do..." It goes on and describes pain, ways of people hurting others. Yes, I believe deep down inside, the boss knows what he is doing is selfish and wrong. But truly don’t think he is capable of comprehending the extend to which this is true. I dont think he can, because it requires the presence of real love to understand the ways we hurt each other, the depths to which we dig into one another's souls.

So this is where I've been the last couple of days. Silenced but wanting desperately not to be. Yet trying to act in love. It is a difficult, difficult burden to bare, but an essential one, I believe. Central to all I believe, perhaps the most important thing that influences my life and makes me who I am - even if I know I fail at living it out sometimes - is the idea that Christ came in LOVE. As a Christian I am called to LOVE. To LOVE my neighbor as myself. Specifically, Christ calls us to love our enemies...? I read Scripture often that talks about love, it is central to who I believe Christians SHOULD be. Its challenging, though - like this passage (from Luke 6 - Jesus is speaking):

27“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ... 32“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 35But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. ... 36Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Challenging, but I believe this is perhaps the greatest truth of Christianity. or at least it should be. How different would our world be if Christians truly strived to live this out?

The reality is, I don’t LIKE this man! I don’t know that I would have the courage to stand with him, to be the friend to him he so badly needs. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t see beyond my emotions that are tied up. I can see that deep within is a broken, hurting child of God - who is, like me, created in God’s image. I also know that as a woman of faith, I am called to LOVE - and not just those who love me. I know that I cam called to love my neighbor… and not just my neighbors who love me.

So. Where does this leave me? Thinking about how my emotions are one thing, but I believe love is something entirely apart from that. I am grateful it is. Can you imagine if love rested solely on emotions? I think people letting love rest only in our emotions is a source of so much conflict and heartache in the world.

I desire to move beyond that.

But I don’t know how.

I'm still praying for guidance. I'm still praying for wisdom to know which action to take. Praying that I remember that every great action requires great risk. I am willing to take risk, but this is more difficult when that great risk is also someone else's. I cannot make that decision of risk for them, and we cannot be sure any action I take would be for the greater good.

This does not mean that I must take no action. There must be balance somewhere. I am praying for a clear vision of what the “third way” might be. For now, I remain in hopeful prayer. I remain hopeful because of the hope I am able to share. Because I am told by my friend that the trust we share as he has come to me offers him hope. Because I am able to be a source of light in the darkness. Because I know that in Christ there is hope for all things, and for all people, and because tonight, I am choosing to look for the good in all people - even in the very ones who have persecuted us. It is not easy. No one said it would be. But Christ is my strength, my hope, my redeemer. Christ is the strong rock and foundation on which I stand.

That is what brings me hope.

Hope In The Dark

Today is Valentine’s Day, and what better reason for a feast, fellowship and celebration than to celebrate our community that has gathered and become one because of the One who first loved us? So we had a Valentine’s Day party last night at Mama Tembo’s home.

I arrived in the afternoon surprised and excited by the scene painted before me. There were a couple people hanging out in the office, by far the quietest place on campus. Several were up in the guest house where the cleaning (the goat, ducks, chickens and doves) and cooking of our feast was taking place. I headed that way but didn’t make it, as I was distracted by the ongoing soccer game in the lawn. It was great to watch them as even Papa joined in the friendly (albeit intense) game. I eventually walked through the dance party in the garage and made my way to the pool to find the same thing: contagious joy.

Despite the incredible fellowship and contagious joy and laughter throughout the evening, my favorite part of the day came at its close. As dinner was finished, Freddy began to DJ and began playing songs as shout-outs to different groups. “This one goes out to Zambia!” he proclaimed as he turned up the music. It was a familiar song to many, and soon the 5 students from Zambia were all up and dancing. It was only a matter of time before others joined them as well, perhaps encouraged to do so when even Mama Pastor (Tembo) got up to join them. By the end of the song, half the group was up and dancing, but it took them so long it was quickly decided we should play the same song again.

The song repeated and people continued to join the circle. Then, in the middle of the song and completely unexpectedly (there were not even storms to speak of!), all power went out. The music stopped, the singing quickly faded and you could feel the movement of the air grow stale as no dancing remained. The silence hung heavy in the air as no one moved or spoke a sound.

As if out of no where, a voice began to sing, picking up the song where it had left off. Before anyone knew what was happening, almost everyone had gotten on their feet to celebrate together in the darkness. One song turned into many as songs of praise and worship were lifted higher, louder and more melodically than they had been all night. It was a sight to see - or more appropriately - hear.

It was unlike any other worship we had shared together before. Rather than fearing darkness, it was embraced. It was almost as if we were safer together in the darkness, without light to shine over our brokenness or fears. The only light to shine in the group was the metaphorical light shinning from each person in the circle, and yet it may well have been the brightest light I have ever seen in my life. As our eyes adjusted and our dancing eventually slowed, we closed with passionate prayer and thanksgiving to our God who has shown us again today the many ways to find light in the darkest of places.

An incredible physical reminder of why we are here and who we are here to serve. How great is our God to shine so brightly in such a small, dark place!?

Add To The Beauty

Usually when I fail to update often, it is because I dont have words to say or have been so busy I haven’t had time to post them. As of late, it seems to have been the opposite. I’ve had so many things weighing on me and demanding my attention that as they quickly run through my mind I have struggled to capture them for long enough to write them down.

Today, my friend Don posted (via Twitter) this link to a blogger’s sincere review of his new book. Unfortunately, it has not yet been released here in South Africa, so I am yet to read it myself. However, reading reflections like this one does two things for me: 1- make me more anxious to get my own copy, and 2 - make me miss the Ride:Well Tour and the way we somehow came to understand that life is to be lived with a sense of urgency in living a more full life.

This reminded me of the words of what has become one of my anthems. The song is Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves, and as we grow closer to Christmas and move into the new year, this is, I realize, what my heart and soul are crying out for: to Add to the Beauty.

Add To the Beauty

We come with beautiful secrets

We come with purposes written on our hearts, written on our souls

We come to every new morning

With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces

Calling out the best of who we are

And I want to add to the beauty

To tell a better story

I want to shine with the light

That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations

It brings redemption to life and work

To our lives and our work

It comes in loving community

It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces

Calling out the best of who we are

And I want to add to the beauty

To tell a better story

I want to shine with the light

That's burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful

This is grace, an invitation

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces

Calling out our best

And I want to add to the beauty

To tell a better story

I want to shine with the light

That's burning up inside

Celebrations

I write today from our host home, Uncle Jimmy’s house in Lubumbashi. We (Rachel Hannah and I) were supposed to leave with the rest of the South Africa group yesterday, but we realized that we had not yet seen much of the Congo outside of the conference walls and our drive between the center and Uncle Jimmy’s home, so we changed our tickets and have decided to stay an extra few days: through Wednesday. We will then fly home with Joyce, Mama Tembo and Papa David.

(Our "family portrait" from the Cultural evening with Mama Tembo, Papa David, their daughter Joyce, her friend Abigail, and of course Lucy, our friend/sister/roommate for the week, and co-worker at SHADE)

The conference officially ended Friday, and while it was sad to be over, I think our bodies are also somewhat grateful. I know I have learned a valuable lesson about which Malaria pills I should not be taking, as I have had terrible reactions to the ones I have been taking, and as such have spent most of the past ten days quite sickly. I’ll spare the details, but I will say that I am grateful to have some time of much-needed rest and to a more regular eating schedule, something that certainly cannot hurt an aching and upset stomach.

Aside from that, this week really had been phenomenal. The official ending of the conference was marked with the Cultural evening/event on Friday. We had a lovely dinner and everyone dressed up in cultural attire, including us Americans. It was a great opportunity to feast, fellowship and laugh together one last time before we had to part ways with our new friends. I know I was certainly thankful for those final non-work related conversations we had the opportunity to share with new friends! Not to mention the music, the presentations and the fashion shows that ensued. There were no dull moments to be had, that much is certain!

I am struggling to come up with words to describe the evening or the close of this week. I am still processing the many events of the week, and am nothing if not grateful for being a part of it. There were lots of struggles this week, lots of joys and sorrows shared, lots of memories created and friendships began. God was present and faithful and full of surprises, but most of all, Good. We know that All the time, God is Good, and this week was no exception. Right now, I can do little but celebrate in that fact, in how well the conference went despite all the challenges faced. In such a mode of celebration and gratitude, I want to share a few pictures from our closing ceremony - the cultural evening of celebration.

Chancey from the American team (Church of the Resurrection) shows off during the Fashion Show.

Zambia during their cultural presentation

Me, Rachel, and Hannah with our new friend from Malawi, Sam

Reflections on Wounded Healers

The conference thus far had been absolutely amazing. Words cannot describe how great it has been to meet the delegates and satellite leaders, to share in our stories that have brought us to this place, to learn and worship and pray and feast and fellowship together in this conference center that has been made a holy place by so many great people gathered in one place.

Every night I go home and think about the days past, about how much I have been able to learn and grown in this short amount of time. I debrief a bit with my sisters I’m staying with (Hannah, Rachel, Lucy and Joyce) and think about what has been and what is yet to come. About how we are growing not as individuals but as a larger community across the continent of Africa. I think about what it means to be a “wounded healer” and am thankful that so very many people who have such deep, cutting wounds have sought healing in Christ and want to use those wounds to seek further healing or prevention of wounds for others.

I have heard stories that sound like they are from a book. These are the stories that I have heard “of” -
you know, the ones someone else once encountered and it affected them so strongly they brought it home to share, to share with others that others might seek a means to help and make a difference. These are the stories I have heard before, the stories that have helped connect me to these men, women and children. The stories that have played such a strong role in developing my understanding of my call to do what I can as one part of the body who has a means to make a difference. We were told many times this week, “As one person I cannot change the world, but I can change the world of one person.” That is the humble goal we seek this week. To make a positive change on person at a time. Easier said than done, as it is often harder to love one person well than to love the idea of changing a community. But that really is the point, isn’t it? That the higher path is rarely the easy one, and the right path requires a community such as Sister2Sister to rely on, encourage, and offer strength through prayer to one another. That is what this community has embraced. Those are the stories I am hearing.

Stories of lack of clean water in communities that are desperately trying to move on with education or development or farming, but who cannot because they must walk to carry dirty water home each day for cooking, cleaning, washing. Water that is making them sick, so the sick are taking turns with days off, meaning they really do need every person to help out.

Stories of communities where the average age is 14. Where entire generations have disappeared because of HIV/AIDS. In many households, it is difficult to be clear who is caring for who: the grannies for the babies, or the babies for the grannies. What would they do without each other? Where will this lead the next generation of youth?

Stories of women and children having violent crimes committed against them. Crimes of abuse, of violent rape, of being taken as child soldiers or sold into slavery. Crimes committed out of fear, confusion, miseducation. Crimes being committed because no one was there to break the cycle for them, because violence and abuse and fear are all some generations have ever known. Fear is the heart of so much of the evil and pain, and at times it seems unstoppable.

Then one comes to Sister2Sister Tujenge conference here in DRC, and we know differently here. Here, we are a room filled with people who carry these same stories, but something was different for them. For these women, children and a few men, these stories are as real today as they were the day the were a victim. The difference is that someone somewhere along the way reached out a hand to them - to one person - and offered them a way out of that cycle. Their worlds were changed. Now, these “Wounded Healers” want nothing more than to be that glimmer of hope and change for one other person. To return the favor as many times as they can. God has led us to this place, God has guided us through this healing, God has given us the courage and wisdom and presented us with opportunities to move beyond the cycles we were once in the midst of.

Here at Sister2Sister Conference, we are choosing God and God’s grace to continue moving us to a place of healing. We are focusing this week on the theme, the one thing that keeps us moving not from week to week or sometimes even day to day, but from moment to moment as we grow out of our own painful stories. We (Wounded Healers) are remembering that “Hope Is The Cornerstone of Africa.” Thanks be to God.

Happy Easter!

Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen, Indeed! Hallelujah!!! Hallelujah!!!

Easter - my favorite day of the year. The reason we Christians are Christians at all. The story that doesn't make any sense, the day we celebrate the resurrection of Christ. The day Christ first appeared - first to women, lest we forget! - after being crucified and brutally murdered as he hung from the cross. Christ lives, Christ overcomes death, and today we celebrate that with great praise! Hallelujah!

The mystery of it all, the fact that it makes absolutely no sense, the fact that we can only begin to understand any of it through a process of anamnesis (bringing events of the past into the present) as we recall Jesus' ministry and begin to remember what he was talking about when he said things like that he would "rebuild the temple in three days..." It is a story that God alone could tell. A story that is so ridiculous and so unimaginable and so unreal that I can't help but to believe and entrust my life to it.

For that, I am thankful, and today, we celebrate all that this encompasses. Praise be to God. Hallelujah!! Amen.

Ten Reasons Why Gay Marriage Is "Wrong"

In the midst of ongoing wars, tragedies, hardships and harsh weather creating unforgivable circumstances, this week we also have reason to celebrate.

Yes, it is Holy Week. In the church, we anticipate this week as one of the busiest weeks. We even ask people to come to church THREE TIMES the same week! For a journey that is a long, difficult one as we remember life, suffering and death of Jesus Christ. Then we come to Sunday morning, and the sun rises, and we have all the reason in the world to celebrate! For we will cheer together the unbelievable, unfathomable event that "Christ has Risen! Christ has Risen Indeed!"

... but we aren't there just yet. we must walk the walk before we can celebrate...

That, my friends, is not the reason I call us to celebrate on this day (the time has not yet come). Instead, I celebrate huge victories in the United States. Specifically, victories in Iowa and Vermont. This week, Iowa and Vermont doubled the number of states (adding to Connecticut and Massachusetts) who now have laws on the books legalizing same-sex marriage. I congratulate these two states (specifically proud of Iowa, a place that will always be home to me) on this incredible step forward, and hope other states will soon follow (NH, NY, NJ, and ME all have upcoming votes).

As a Christian (not, "even" as a Christian, but ESPECIALLY as a Christian), my heart could not be more joy-filled, though we certainly have a long way to go. Though it is a bit snide, I would like to re-post here something posted by a friend via Facebook: I hope you too will see the real truths in each of these statements.

Ten Reasons Why Gay Marriage is "Wrong"

1) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

2) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

3) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

4) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

5) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Brittany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

6) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

7) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

8) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

9) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans

To New Beginnings

SO much... the year is off to a roaring start, for better and worse.

Costa Rica. An incredible trip, I was surprised and blessed by the make up of the group of the mission team Hyemin and I were invited to travel to and work in Costa Rica with. The average age of the group nearing 70, the stamina and incredibly hard work with such impressive results of this group blew me away. With any trip, this one brought with it highs and lows, and I am certainly a better person for this trip. I was unfortunately able to do very little (manual) labor/work while there, but the work I did in conversation (I picked up Spanish again much quicker than I anticipated, thankfully!) and in spending time with folks in the community were great. My first international mission trip (first trip with a mission team, that is), I learned a great deal about missions, etc. My favorite part? Witnessing the love, fellowship, friendships, and family that our group (specifically our trip leaders) shared with this community. They have been working together for 14 years, and their relationships are incredible gifts as a result of such efforts.

Promptly upon returning to forms of communication such as email and phone, I was alerted to a difficult and scary situation of my close friends, Ross and Amanda Baker. You may recall my great celebration in their first child just one month ago... and James Bennett is still doing great! Unfortunately, it is Mom who has been having some major troubles. It is public knowledge by now... and I could perhaps spend hours filling in details, but sparring them I say only that this family has been on a terrible rollercoaster. When James was only two weeks old, Amanda discovered a tumor that was initially believed to be cancer, and was later discovered to be a rare genetic disease known as Juvenile Polyposis... making this long story short, she has had major surgery and had her colon removed... all things considered she is doing very well! She was even released from the hospital on Friday, and will now be getting care from the comfort of "home" - they are residing back in Kansas with family.

I am so thankful she is doing well, and could not begin to articulate here how very difficult even this past week has been. I miss my dear friends so much, and while I am VERY thankful they are in Kansas surrounded by a great many friends and family who can support them, I miss them very much and wish there were more we could do for them from here. It sure is encouraging, though, to know that "literally thousands of people are praying" for them, as Ross pointed out. Incredible! (you're welcome to join in the prayers... they need them!). In the middle of all of this, James has turned one month old and the pictures prove he is healthy and rapidly growing!!

The spring semester has begun, and I am already deep into spring texts. There are many other things to update on in this crazy life I lead, but these must wait for another night. Tonight, I just needed to express my great thanksgiving for incredible people in my life. This weekend alone I was able to catch up with NINE friends I hold dear (including a surprise visit form Ross who was here to pick up somethings they left behind). I hope this is symbolic of the new semester to come, full of friends, fellowship, prayer and community. Without these things, I cannot imagine where I (we) would be.

A Historic Victory

Tonight will go down as one of the most memorable nights of my life. One of the most memorable nights of my generation. It will go down as a historic day to be remembered and memorized for generations to come.

Barack Obama has been elected the President of The United States of America. Immediately following John McCain's concession, Obama gave a brilliant acceptance speech in Grant Park - in downtown Chicago. I was one of 70,000 granted a ticket to this event, and still cannot believe I was there and got to be there to see and hear (LIVE!) this historic event.

I have to say I was *really* impressed with the work of the Chicago Police and the CTA. Everything ran smoothly, and I don't think it could have been organized better. Well done. I wonder if this will help them with the bid for the Olympics, now that they've proven they can handle such a large-scale event?

Barack Obama will be sworn into office on January 20, 2009. I can't wait for the change that is yet to come. The long process of change ahead begins tomorrow, when two new people are granted full access to files in the White House so they may begin preparing for their terms and "hit the ground running."

A few other thoughts:
I am VERY pleased that this election went as I wish it always did: the winning ticket claims the majorit in BOTH the Electoral AND the Popular vote. Incredible.

John McCain gave a decent concession speech, but he was really hard on himself. He clearly took this loss very personally, and although I'm glad he didn't win, it was hard to listen to and my heart ached for him.

When I got home, I turned on the news, and they were just turning to show Obama's acceptance speech once again. I watched and listened, and must say it felt a LOT longer when we were watching it live/in person. Perhaps because I was so caught up in the moment, savoring the moment and trying to take it all in. I still can't believe it. Seriously - Barack Obama is going to be our President!!!

Obama's speech was INCREDIBLE. INCREDIBLE. please, Please, PLEASE go listen to it!

As excited as I am about the events, my heart goes out to McCain supporters. I hope my family handles it ok, and selfishly I hope they do so without attacking me/my sister for supporting Obama... I know they shed lots of tears tonight...

I am very tired. I got up at 4:30am to vote EARLY before work, and its getting really late (but I'm running on adrenaline and fortunately can sleep in tomorrow).

In other election news tonight, I havne't had a chance to look up much, but this is what I do know:
In California, Prop 8 passed. This was an ammendment to the state constitution, and it overturns the Supreme Court of California's decision to legalize gay marriage. :( I mourn this loss. (but remain hopeful for this change, too... as Obama even included equal rights for gay and lesbians in his acceptance speech!)

On a better note, South Dakota attempted to pass amendments tonight that would give them the most strict abortion laws in the country. While I wish abortion never had to happen, I am pro-choice, and I am thankful this did not pass.

Lots and lots and lots of other elections... but I need to sleep and leave some creative space for you to look them up. Maybe I'll post some pictures later (for sure look for them on facebook!).

A Prayerful Journey Ahead

After flipping through Matthew's copy of The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne (founder of the SimpleWay) this summer, I finally picked up my own copy yesterday. I'm only about 140 pages in, but I can tell you there were words in the first 100 that could have been my own, and I was so taken aback by it I that had to read them several times. It's interesting to read where his thoughts from then have taken him today. I imagine he finds himself in a very different place now than he ever envisioned, and that can be a result of only one thing: God is amazing. As I have been anxiously trying to make decisions about my own life this week, this story offers me a refreshing excitement to see how my own story will unravel.

That brings me to Discernment. I have a special place in my heart for this word. Since college and the days of small groups formed from the Lilly endowment's vocational formation program at my school, this word has brought with it a plethora of emotions. Anxiety, joy… excitement, even! But also humility, confusion, sometimes sorrow or fear. A healthy sort of fear. The kind of awareness (if not an actual form of the emotion) of apprehension that keeps me aware of the fact that I am not actually in control. A recognition that reminds me of my need to keep relying on God in all that I do. I guess “fear” may not be the right word to describe this emotion, but I am at a loss for how to describe the determination and hope and focus and intensity that come with the desire to always seek refuge in uncomfortable situations... to always seek a way to work for change when I become comfortable in a place that our broken society is also comfortable with. For what good and positive changes ever come from comfort and safety? I "fear" living in that place... and I refuse to let FEAR keep me from seeking change in these ways...

Some days, I am so uncertain of what my future holds I find myself in a place of real fear, in which I cannot so much as try to process where I will be 9 months from now (upon graduation)… so I find myself in the place I should have been all along: in prayer.

From that, I have concluded that there is only one thing I can know about how I am being called to live: I know I am being called to love people, and to love people well. We talked a lot this summer about the challenge of "loving people we have never met." We spent 2 months raising money and awareness to help our brothers and sisters in Africa reach access to clean water. The more we talked about it, the more I realized that for me, that isn't always that hard. They're far away. I am "safe" from their harsh reality. I'm not doing the walking every day to get dirty water - I'm helping them stop doing so by driving a van and giving people water I bought at a store that morning. I am Safe. I realize that I don't want to be - and do not feel called to be - so "safe". What we did this summer was an amazing, miraculous feat and I have absolutely no regrets about what we did, how we did it, or why we did it. God was a part of that team and of our mission. And it wasn't safe in many, many ways. But its not the end for me, either.

I want to use this experience as one more that will help me to love people, and love them well. I want to face the challenge of loving people not just from a safe distance, but up close and personal. To love them not just on the days we can celebrate together and share in fellowship, but to love them on the days when it is most difficult to do so, whether because of hardship or exhaustion or 'simple' things like a personality conflict (as was sometimes hard with the very people on our own team... here in the 'safe' land of our own 'real' lives). I want to love people and be fully engaged in a ministry of presence, seeking to do "what is good" as I learn to "do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God" (Micah 6:8).

Wherever I end up and whatever I end up doing, I want to learn to listen well so that my ministry is one that engages fully not with what an institution tells me needs to be done, but with what the people with whom I live in community with most need. Maybe those things will even be the same... but I pray for the opportunity to take time to be present and build relationships before taking action.

So in the end, it comes down to what sounds like a cheesy cliché, but is really where all of my heart and soul are invested. I want to love well. Nothing more, nothing less. A big task, I am sure, and one I will have to grow in to. But I trust that whatever path I am on a year from now, it will be doing just that.
(and I hope Mom is okay with that path, too!)

A Secret that should not be a Secret

Every week, I check the Post Secret website to see what kind of sad, funny, deep, shallow or otherwise intriguing (sometimes mind-numbing) "secrets" people mail in. The first time I came across it about 3 years ago, I saw a quote that reminded me greatly of myself. I have been checking it ever since.

Usually, I encounter above emotions/thoughts with the new postcards sent in. Every once in a while, I come across one that must be shared. This is one of those weeks.The simplicity of truth can be a beautiful, dangerous, scary thing. But I appreciate it all the same.

Dreaming of Change

As I browse the internet instead of... I mean on a break from... writing a paper, I came across this disturbing piece of news on NPR.

Apparently, the psychologist who coordinates the PTSD program at the Olin E. Teague Veterans' Center in Temple, Texas has advised her staff to "to stop diagnosing veterans with PTSD to save money."

I do not believe the problem with this needs further explanation. Yet it certainly deserves further publicity and a call to action. As called for by some "higher ups" in the VA system, as well as by other noted persons such as Senator Barack Obama, an investigation has begun.

I wish I were more surprised by this. I wish I could say I am shocked to hear that our government would send hundreds of thousands of men and women to a war zone worse than any of us could ever imagine... only to have them return with psychological complications such as PTSD... and then not want to pay for the costs of their treatment upon return. Instead, we are faced with the reality that we would rather spend billions of dollars on the ongoing war itself, leaving no money for other things. For things that matter here and now. Things that could actually make a positive impact in the world instead of tearing it apart. You know - things like health care (for ALL people in need - both military and not), food and shelter and education and jobs for all people. Money that could be spent on providing the basic necessities of life we Americans take advantage of day after day, such as clean water to drink.

I guess that's my dream.
Someday, I know the kingdom will come, and it will look like ALL of God's children (and we ARE all children of God!) getting the love, nurture, and care they need. I know that I am only one person, but if the hope and vision and action of change doesn't begin somewhere, we will never see this kind of change I (we!?) dream of. So even though I'm stepping down off my soapbox for now, I'm going to keep dreaming it, keep praying about it, and keep working for it. I hope you'll do the same.

"A Victim Treats His Mugger Right"

I found this story on NPR.

He was walking toward the stairs when a teenage boy approached and pulled out a knife.

"He wants my money, so I just gave him my wallet and told him, 'Here you go,'" Diaz says.

As the teen began to walk away, Diaz told him, "Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm."

It is so encouraging to know when people are in the right place, doing the right thing. Truly, this man - Julio Diaz - is in the right field of work. He gets people. He actually knows what it means to let go of the worldly things, and focus on the importance of individuals... even when that means a "sacrifice" of his own on behalf of perfect strangers...

Then I kept reading, and it also made me really sad. This teenage boy- whoever he was - had probably never had anyone actually show care for him like that. He, like many others that surround him and we encounter perhaps even daily, has found himself trapped in the middle of a broken, hurting world. He's become such a part of the viscous cycle of taking and fighting for survival, that it truly never occurred to him that he could live another way.

My prayer is that there are lots of Julios out there... and that together, they (we) can learn to live more fully into this life that Christ has called us to. Not one of fear and violence, but one of love and patience and humility.