treacherousHeavyD's Xanga

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 22:54:53 GMT

me oh myyyy....

i haven't written in so so so long but mind you it's for good reason! when i have internet access again hopefully i'll pick this form of communication back up; i miss my friends desparately. things have been changing so quickly and will continue to do so (moving to nashville tomorrowwwww....) that my head is still spinning ever since december and hopefully it'll settle down to splurge some thoughts.. here.

"Though I am silent there is singing around me."

-Wendell Berry, via Josh's page.... my thoughts today... p-sout.

teary-eyed bus rides

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 19:47:58 GMT

I love mornings. I love waking up to the hustle and bustle in my ears from down below on the street, with the sun and wind coming in from the window directly above my cot and wondering what I will experience that day. I like to be the first one awake here; to make the coffee before anyone is up and to hear the bird in the cage at the fruitstand downstairs chirping his same old song as I sit alone, eating my oatmeal. Jenn and I usually leave about 30 minutes before the others to get to Missionaries of Charity on time on Wednesdays so we said our goodbyes yesterday morning and made our way through favela traffic.... which includes slow people, running people, vendors yelling and making rhymes with their sales gimics, speeding motorcycles (we do not have the right of way in Brasil!), the occasional comvi bus.. and needless to say, it takes a bit to get to the entrance where we catch our bus.

Yesterday morning as I was watching my feet so as to not step in the undesirable things one might find in the street, I look up to see the largest vehicle I´ve ever seen... it was black, big as a tank, slick with only a tiny window in front, and had small holes down the side in a straight line in which long skinny gun barrells were sticking out. The police raids have been occurring about 3 times per week here lately and it feels as if we live in a war zone. Though I have been stuck inside for hours due to the shots, and have ducked into storefronts as I heard news that police were coming, I hadn´t ever been in the middle of a raid; unprotected, in the street. As the cavaráo passed me the rifle nearly hit me in the shoulder, and I then saw policeman after policeman follwing after it on foot, all geared up and all carrying their assault rifles. My heart sank into my stomach; these raids are for one reason and one reason only: to confiscate drugs, and to catch and kill trafficantes. They do not protect the civilians of Jacarezinho (the name of our favela), and often people are killed in crossfire between the trafficantes and the policia. I realized that had there been a trafficante nearby and they were seen, Jenn and I could very well have been victim of a stray bullet or seen one of our neighbors suffer the same fate.

Needless to say, at this moment I realized that as I stood in the midst of these beady-eyed, one-track-minded, police who are members of a police force known for their corruption and lack of protecting civilians, I just needed to get out of there as quickly as possible; which I did. As stores rapidly pulled down their storefronts and people ran to hide, I did the same. As Jenn and I got on the bus, I nervously listened for the fireworks, which an assigned favela-dweller sets off whenever police enter to let everyone know to take cover. I sighed with relief when I finally heard them... and the bus passengers stared rubber-necking towards Jacarezinho, mumbling things under their breath. Lisa, Will & David were leaving the house soon and I was worried about them. My thoughts raced to the past weeks in which the newspapers are always boasting of stories of how many young trafficantes were killed, how many children died as a result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time during a raid, and of my neighbors who have become friends.. hoping that they heard the fireworks. I prayed for them, frantic, fearful prayers, but I found myself listening and being comforted even moreso. I am learning of solidarity lately, and of unity... the importance of being with people, of seeing everyone as my brothers and sisters, and the truth that we belong to each other. As I prayed for these, my mind then went directly to the policia of course. The cause of so much of our pain here; the ones who have made me more afraid in these last months than I have ever been in my life, and the ones I often recognize as our enemies here. I was reminded of His love for the ones whose beady eyes cared not for the eyes of my friend on the street, for me. I was reminded that they are my brothers, and that He cares for them just as uniquely and intensely as He cares for me.

I realized then on that bus what it means to love and pray for my enemy. I realized that prayer does indeed bring unity, and as I allow myself to be changed and present and hand over my fears and frustrations to the God who is more than willing to take them, He will transform fear and anger into love. I don´t know any of the policia personally, but I do know that they are all fallen and wounded people just as I am; just as the trafficantes are; just as the man who sells meat on the corner is.

We belong to each other. I don´t know how to fix anything, and I can´t change the corrupt systems here, but I do know that when I listen to Him and He enables me to love my enemies and breathe even a little hope into these here in our everyday work, a miracle has happened.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 13:46:30 GMT

i realize it has been 2 months. my excuse? i can never choose what to write about. should i express my excitement, my recent crying spell, nun stories, the glorious adventures i have had, my depression over circumstances at times or the hope i feel overall?

today, nuns.

on wednesday mornings we clean the Missionaries of Charity like proffesionals. it´s all window washing (which are just heavily painted wooden shutters that stay open. i love that they stay open) in the chapel and in the big dining hall, washing loads of clothes and sheets by hand for my favorite little men who hold my hand and sing to me in portuguese and call me, "my love", helping in the kitchen with little ladies who stun me with their beauty because they live lives of such service and cook together here every week only to zoom off in their car together like teenage girls and come back the next week. There are other tasks but these are my favorite and most practiced by myself and Jenn.

As I was washing the shutters of the dining hall, I could hear the ladies in the kitchen chanting their prayers and they echoed far into every area of the home where any number of things were going on. Their chants are always like music to me; never distracting because unless I try hard, I can´t understand their Portuguese. I pray too as they chant; I pray for my friends at home, I thank God for beauty, I pray for my new friends on the streets that they would know how much they are loved and for little Renan at Dora´s who clings to me tight every time I have to leave (oh how i wish i could take him home with me and give him as much attention as he needs). As I look out the window I am cleaning I can see my favorite little nun; the one from Rwanda.. the giggly one with a big smile and a ridiculously endearing accent who wants me to teach her to dance. She is pushing big garbage bags full of clothes for the next group of street men who come in, down the stairs... giggling every time as they hit the ground with a thunk.

At 11:30, my sweet friend Maria Elena, who says to me everytime she sees me, "oohh!! i am so glad to meet you!!!" (and showers me with kisses), rings the lunch bell off the stoop outside the kitchen. My hard-working friends come from upstairs and from downstairs and we all get ushered into the kitchen where they serve us, and we sit at lunch drinking caju juice. I ask Maria Elena about her children and she returns the questions with ones about what I do and don´t have in the states.

I certainly don´t have this, and I will miss it greatly.

///and I plan on getting my favorite nun (can i have a favorite nun?) from Rwanda to teach ME how to dance instead because I feel pretty certain that she has better moves. ///

kites and machine guns

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 00:21:28 GMT

come with me to jacare :)

this is a view from my roof. children play on the roof and fly kites from them often.. one of my favorite things about this place.

another one of my favorite things about favela life: clotheslines. colorful. reminder of hard work and signs of life //

my belly is full of subway and my senses overloaded from a big movie screen with large speakers saying loud things in portuguese that i couldn´t understand.

saturdays are our "off" days, and for today we decided to do something somewhat familiar and comfortable. being immersed in a different culture gets a little hard at times and i just need to waltz into something i feel like i´m getting a hug from every once in a while. today it was subway and a movie. (they also had kfc in the mall. interesting.)

we saw "cidade dos homens", which means "city of men". if any of you saw city of God, this film was made by the same people and was more realistic to favela life. i felt strange as the camera panned the city whose streets i have walked many times now and whose people i have begun to fall for. it felt like my hometown; i felt proud and sentimental! the houses look like mine, the language the same as i hear flowing around me at all times now, and some of the characters even reminded me of some people we have developed relationships here. i recommend you seeing it if they are showing it in the states now.

it was difficult to watch because i know that the story is true and i now have faces to put to the pretend characters. the children here in rio have to grow up so quickly. they are born into poor families and so they must work, in whatever way they can find. they experience more violence than i have ever seen in my 23 years. the cycle is painful, and we don´t have a quick fix, but i have to remember that every snippet of love we give them is vital. the time we get to spend communicating to them their worth and that they are children of God is imperitive. and the time we can be adults for them and allow them to be children.. to blindly trust, to play and to say what´s on their minds.. well, they teach me a lot more than i could ever teach them no matter how many english, art, or bible lessons we have. they are teaching me simplicity, humility, and resilience.

i hope to continue to sit at their feet during my time here,

and i hope one can teach me to fly a kite.

"Love has a hem in her garment

that reaches the very dust.

It sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes,

and because it can,

it must."

mother teresa

blessed are the poor in spirit...

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 13:03:05 GMT

As I sat on the sidewalk, I wiggled around to make myself more comfortable. Sometimes my sitting positions can be a little less than normal... especially on a broken up sidewalk with random puddles of i-don´t-know-what. Lisa and I are playing UNO with a couple of boys who know much more Portuguese in their 2 and 4 years than we´ve learned in our 2 weeks. One thing I love about coming into this culture absent of the ability to communicate with words is the humility it brings. The little fellas taught me some colors I didn´t know as we struggled to teach the smallest one the ropes of UNO. As time passed on the sidewalk, I found myself gazing and contemplative as I so often do. My attention was brought back into the present when I heard the children´s mother yelling at the 2 year old. It turns out he was going to the wrong restaurant for the leftovers that would be their dinner. He strutted back oh so proudly with an interesting swirl of foods in his little container and he shared with all. As he piddled around, I had lost sight of the eldest boy. Behind me was the street and in it I spotted him, crouched down using it as a toilet. As time crept on the reality started to hit me that... I was sitting on their living room floor. The boys didn´t have a way to wash their hands and they absolutely climbed on everything... as little boys do ;) I suffered some near fatal blows as they realized I was up to fighting and wrestling and tickling!

Ben told us later of his conversations with the mother and with her 25 year old daughter.. both of which have chlidren in orphanges, on the street, and on the run.

Sitting on that sidewalk still, the boys took a break from their attack and I found myself wondering what I would do if I didn´t have a way to wash my children´s hands after they used the bathroom only to eat immediately afterwards and climb on the dirty Rio streetpoles and sidewalks.. or what I would do if I had children and didn´t have them to take care of becasue they had been taken from me... or what I would do if I knew in the pit of my stomach that there is no hope of them having any opportunity at a good education for themselves or any hope of us getting off the street.. because that´s just the way things work in Brazil. The stakes are higher and the falls.. harder.

And I decided I don´t know if I could do it... maybe I´m not strong enough, or maybe you just deal with it and the strength comes. I know one thing.. that more than anything I cannot ignore them when I pass just as all the passerbys did yesterday afternoon as we visited with them. The way I always have passed by because though my heart hurts, I don´t know what to do so I freeze up and ignore them... or give them some money or food and keep walking and never acknowledge their issues. If nothing else, I absolutely must express to them in any way possible that they are remembered.. that He comes for them and that they are loved. Hope is a scary thing in their situation.. but it must remain. It is all they have.

I found myself grossed out. I wanted to go home and get a shower and lie in my clean bed and cry. Most of all I wanted to go home. I then immediately thought of the fact that... this is their home. They cannot go home. And then I realized that this isn´t just their problem.. and that I cannot leave and never come back. This is my problem.. it is our problem. We are in this together and that is why I feel that sidewalk visit changed me. I joined in their life.. even if for only a couple of hours.. felt what their life was like.. and realized the heaviness of the problem on our hands. And it is oh so heavy.

So now my question to my friends and myself and my God is how can we best love them.. and what does kindness do for them and what does rescue look like?

As of this moment I don´t have much besides my tears and a fresh shower, but I realize that I must let them know they are remembered and loved... and that my God is one of hope and redemption.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 15:46:17 GMT

i have less in monetary and physical security than i've ever had...

but feel so rich it's almost unfair.

I leave for Rio on saturday. these past few weeks have been a whirlwind of getting rid of things [and even much more than planned..], being homeless & slowly going broke again, traveling around with or to people i love so much... having to ask for help. it's been a while since i had to be helped and it's much easier for me to be a helpER.

i'm so excited about the changes that are so close but again; it's neverever easy. i'm as excited & nervous about rio as i am about coming home to not much familiar. it's only moreso a reminder to me that I am to hold things loosely and that no matter where i am, what i have or don't have, and who's in my life or isn't... I have the same job to do: hug and help and love best I can.

i hope to be posting on xanga while i'm over there... hope to have access to xanga, but just in case will you guys please shoot me your email address so that you can get my emails if you'd like?

"These are the words I want carved on my gravestone: that I was a helper, and that I danced." Anne Lamott

Friday, June 29, 2007

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 01:32:29 GMT

i haven't been here..

but life has been happening. it most certainly has.

I've no idea where I'll be come December ((((((((((((((( exciting, yes... scary, YES. )))))))))))))))))))) Do I want to study natural healthcare, work a nursing job (full time.. part time..), go back to school for ________, work in a low-income clinic or a stressful hospital, live in Nashville, Hattiesburg, Memphis, Timbuktoo or Botswana or just neverever come home from Rio... ? I always loved options and freedom but I find it most difficult now.

I live in a beautiful, very challenging house. I have fabulous lunches and hard, hard talks. I am gone more than I am home. Things have been so very difficult and it seems I am questioning more than I ever have in my life. What's for sure and what isn't? What people or situations can I trust... if any... and though I know I can trust my Abba, I am finding myself searching out what exactly I am trusting Him with? What does it look like?

Divorce, heart attacks, new marraige, new diagnoses, uncertainty, boys, doubts and questions and new places, people, churches & situations...

whew. I know this: I am loved. I am not alone.

I feel like a little dangly girl whose legs are flailing as she's kindof wondering where on earth she can place them.

[I don't think I can place them on earth]

adventure is my middle name

Fri, 25 May 2007 15:43:19 GMT

whew.

It seems there are so many things to do and so little time... and I never was good at picking and choosing :)

Life is busy between breaking down on the way to TN, living through a week with my (seriously) crazy family, trying to make it working some night shifts, moving into this new house, hitchhiking to new orleans and back, long phone conversations late at night, and reading this ridiculously beautiful book in preparation for Rio....

so I won't try to explain :) but i do have pictures.

my teeniest brother threw a hanger instead of a hat because he wanted to keep his ;)

his crazy friends.

love this one ;)

all 5 of us! we haven't all taken a picture together in years and years..

my mom's parents :) meet the goofiest grandmother and the sweetest grandfather. also meet Nick's mardi gras beads my mom made him wear that said " #1 Grad" ;)

... and soon.. pictures from my hitchhiking travels with Travis. There are so many to put up. Later.

...........................................................................................................................................................................

life is short and I hope to use it well.

Currently eating: lots of shredded wheat and as much from Sidedoor Cafe as humanly possible... Currently listening to Amos Lee, the new Bright Eyes album, Hem, the fishtank, and Alina's hamster run on that freakin wheel much too much... Currently reading: Succulent Wild Woman by Sark, Grace (eventually) by Anne Lamott, and Companion to the Poor by Viv Grigg.

"If you asked me what I came in this world to do, I will tell you.

I came to live out loud."

Emile Zola

Monday, May 07, 2007

Mon, 07 May 2007 20:21:34 GMT

psst....i've become a little jaded as far as this blogging thing goes...

but changes call for an update.

these past few weeks have been beautifully refining. things rarely turn out the way i think that they will, and sometimes i complain about it.... but i think more than anything that's a very enjoyable part of life and faith for me.

lately all i want is a hammock.... and soon I'll be living in a house with a yard and a hammock and wonderful girls to experience community with. i'm excited about the relationships, and about the change of pace. i'll be living so much closer to the downtown area i love so much and to the church....... plus i can't wait to ride my bike through the neighborhoods! (really i'm just excited about lying in my own grass late night... or in a hammock.)

Abbye is getting married and it is so much fun and so much of an honor to live with her during these exciting times and be a part of the preparation. It is so interesting to enjoy her celebration of marraige and where her life is headed while at the same time experiencing something totally different in my own. There are pros and cons to each, and more days than not I am ridiculously happy as a single and enjoying my freedom in all areas.. while others i long for a relationship like Jeff and Abbye have. But ultimately I am seeing the beauty in both... and learning from her as she learns from me as I learn from her, etc, in our very different situations :)

Rio de Janeiro, Brasil will be my place of residence from August through December.....

yep, i said it. There's lots to be done, lots to be read, tons of preparation... but ultimately I am so happy to go. I will be living in favelas (slums) in community with people ministering to the poor by taking up life with them... I cried today reading the stories of some of the past team members, and the descriptions of the teenagers and kids we'll be loving on.... so much injustice, so much addiction, and yet most feel the need to fix these people, i know without a shadow of a doubt that they will fix me.

and lo and behold there is a Missionaries of Charity there that houses old men struggling with life and addiction and chronic illness. i feel like my love for sweet old men was divinely inspired... and that Abba gave me a little present in giving me the opportunity to spend hours upon hours with them in Brazil. Who knew? ;)

" Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love. And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and thre fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you, follow Him, though His ways are hard and steep.

And when His wings enfold you yield to Him,

though the sword hidden among His pinions may wound you.

And when He speaks to you believe in Him,

though His voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall He crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall He descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant"

///Kahlil Gibran

not.. waiting on the world to change.

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 22:12:54 GMT

( if everyday were as beautiful as today, i just may live in a hammock. )

I wish that I could have had you with me on Saturday. If I did, I would have had you walk with me through the village of cardboard huts and gazed at the poems, quotes, beautiful pictures, and cries of the people of America that all exclaimed that the people of Uganda deserve justice.

I had a beautiful moment saturday afternoon as everyone was setting up their cardboard homes for the night.... I felt like the Lord was reassuring me that there is hope. That He has equipped His people to fight for justice.. that He hears the cries of the oppressed and that He will answer them. People gathered in hopes of change... and that glimmer of hope is all we need to keep going. In areas all across the board.... sometimes I just need to be reminded that hope that is seen isn't hope at all.

It may sometimes feel like little steps, but the small ones matter. They do. How seeing big things and taking little steps coincide, I'm not sure..... but somehow it's how He orchestrates things.

Trust.