Poor of Spirit

Maybe you are searching for the feminine in God like in Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe at Cathedral of La Plata

This is an age that places the highest value on certainty. We want our leaders bold and unfailing in their convictions and prefer politicians who are confident and refuse to be questioned. Technology and the internet has made the practice of fact-checking easier than ever (yet somehow presenting articles with conflicting information). People are criticized for questioning our social institutions because of our unwillingness to be uncertain or critical of such important parts of our communities. Even many of our institutions that acknowledge the supernatural and the sacred push the idea of an irrefutable certainty of beliefs.

As the week that Christians call Holy Week is upon us, I wanted to speak about the poor of spirit. My last two blogs in this series on poverty have focused on economic poverty, something near and dear to my heart. Yet I am also a deeply spiritual being that aches at the disconnection that exists between our religious communities and folks searching for food for the soul.

I believe there is a spark within, something I call a soul and that we are not just functioning nervous systems controlling our limbs and organs. We are not our thoughts or our memories or our bodies but something else. A heart, a soul, an essence that is created by someone or something Divine. This belief of a sacredness within would have existed without my religious background.

I have been beyond fortunate to have been raised in a religious community that fed me nourishing words of love, hope and acceptance. I believe that even if I was not brought up in a community of faith, I would have still searched for something to satisfy my spiritual needs. Being spiritual does not necessarily mean being religious. Religion, which has been a part of humankind for over 100,000 years, creates a unifying system that has three elements: the sacred, beliefs and practices and a moral community.

While I see many wonderful elements of faith communities such as the abundance of friendship, guidance, and comfort, I understand how many people have been deeply hurt by organized religion. Churches have been exclusive, judgmental, and self-righteous. The same people who are marginalized in society are often on the margins in our religious communities as well. I know many individuals who had toxic experiences with organized religion which have put them off religious communities in their adulthood.

However, the need to have absolutes is another factor that drives people away from religion. On one hand, religion gives explanation and a type of peace to the chaos that is our world. We live in a scary place full of heartbreak, injustices and extreme inequality; we crave something that makes sense of both the pain and the joy that we experience. However, we are also unwilling to not have all the answers.

Perhaps you have heard someone (other than Drake) say it was "God's Plan" in the face of a tragedy or that "everything happens for a reason". I see this need to justify terrible events as more for the person giving comfort than the person who is experiencing the devastation. When a religious person say these types of statements to a person experiencing great loss it creates the image that God is making you feel pain for a reason. This idea that God is inflicting this on you personally leads to the thought that you did something wrong or bad to have caused this event.

A better alternative is I don't know. I don't know why that drunk driver hit you car. I don't know the reason why you had a miscarriage. I don't know why your child has cancer or your father died when you were young or you are suffering with depression. Because tying to answer these questions is something we will never be able to do in this lifetime and using God's rightness as an excuse is wrong. God should not be seen as the Punisher but of never-ending compassion, love and grace.

Besides the certainty some try to promote during time of darkness, there is also the hesitance of questioning anything at all. When someone starts questioning if the bible is God's perfect word they may not share that with their Christian community and instead stop attending bible study. When someone is looking for the feminine in God and Christianity they may withdraw from the Church in search of satisfying their spiritual needs elsewhere. Someone who is doubting the existence of God may leave their circle of religious friends out of fear of being forced fed their explanations and beliefs.

In Jesus' famous Sermon on the Mount he says "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven" in Matthew 5:3. This is a message for those questioning God. Jesus is saying it is fortunate to be uncertain in religious laws and promises because the alternative is being so sure in your convictions that you are closed off from others and from God.

The poor in spirit, the ones questioning faith are suffering as they challenge the world and what they determine to be the truth within themselves. Yet they are rich in their uncertainty; they do not settle for a religious teaching which does not ring true to their souls. They question religious institutions that speak words of exclusiveness, superiority and promote blindness to social issues.

For the readers who are strong in their convictions: please be patient and open to those uncertain in their beliefs. Perhaps you will be moved by their faith journey.

For the readers who are unsure what or if you believe in anything: listen and care for that voice within. Acknowledge that there are forces in life you do not understand. Do not be afraid to read, visit, and interact with other religions or spiritual practices. Understand that there are non-judgmental people willing and wanting to be a part of your exploration.


Muchas gracias for reading!! See you next with part four of my series on poverty!

A Crying Shame (whatever that means)

Shame can make you feel alone - like waiting for the Line C in Buenos Aires early New Year's Day

The American Heritage Idioms dictionary defines 'crying shame' as an unfortunate situation. It is a term suggested to have come from the now obsolete to cry shame upon, meaning to express vigorous disapproval. These days we refer to both mild annoyances and tragic circumstances as 'a shame', sometimes add 'crying' for dramatic or humorous effect. 'It's a shame that I broke my watch' and 'it's a shame that the family died in the fire' are very similar except the seriousness of the situation.

Yet more and more I like the original expression - it truly gets the gravity and heaviness of what we call shame. Shame is the painful feeling or experience that makes us believe that we are flawed; that something we've experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection, love and belonging. Shame has been described more as an experience than a feeling - a flush of heat reddening your face, feeling sick to your stomach and mortifying embarrassment.

The research of Brené Brown, esteemed social researcher and author, is the basis for much of my understanding of shame and how it is used in our society. Through years of research and interviews with people of all ages and backgrounds, one of the findings is that shame is a powerful isolating force that can only be healed through connection and empathy.

We all have felt shame throughout our lives and people feel shame for different reasons. For one person, something insensitive may be brushed off or met with embarrassment. For another, it can deeply wound.

One example is when discussing weight and diet. Let's say a coworker sees their colleague eating fast food a few times during the week and says something like "Wow, you are lucky your body can handle that. I would look like a cow in no time with that diet". Someone who has a positive view of their body may be able to just roll their eyes and let the insidious comment go. However, another might have struggled all their life with their weight and body image - they may remember the mean nicknames, diets their parents implemented, and the sense that they are ugly because they were/are overweight. This type of comment could be very harmful and shameful, leaving the person feeling raw and exposed.

People can feel shame about their bodies, professional life, romantic life, parenting, and more. Nobody wants to discuss the things they feel shame about because sharing vulnerabilities is risky. To open up about our deep hurts - how we feel like a failure and an outsider with something wrong with us- is completely terrifying.

Yet it is necessary. If we stay silent with our shame, our hurt grows. The only way to combat shame is emphatic connection - knowing that you are not alone.

Lástima

One night my friend Pilar and I was sitting on the terrace of our house, sharing a beer and discussing social problems in a mixture of English and Castellano. She said has lástima for the people who live in the streets and asked me the word in English. At the time, I did not know the translation but now I know that lástima means pity or shame.

Not only do I have pity for people suffering homelessness but I also feel immense personal shame when the topic arises.

(Actually, in my head and aloud, I often refer to them as 'homeless people' or 'the homeless'. The stress is on the word 'homeless' makes it seem more like an idea or problem than a group of people.)

I am ashamed when I cross the street to avoid being close to a person who appears homeless. I feel shame when I give women or children money but not to men, as if they are less deserving. There is shame when a homeless man says something to me and I ignore him. Sometimes I catch myself staring at whatever shelter or meager materials a person possesses in curiosity; then the feeling mortified if I catch their eye. During interactions, I become uncomfortable and can ignore someone asking me for money - looking right past them as if they are not flesh, blood and spirit like me.

I feel shame in my interactions but also that they live an unimaginably horrible life and I do not.

Much of this part of my shame is guilt. Shame is a focus on self while guilt is a focus on behavior. Shame is "I am bad" while guilt is "I did something bad". I have guilt that I did/do not help more to lift people out of homelessness. Guilt that I am outspoken, yet my actions do not match up to my statements as I would like. But there is also a sense of shame that I have good things and I am not worthy.

In order for humans to deal with such unpleasantness we blame, rationalize and create distance between us and them.

Using blame, I tell myself that they probably make a hundred dollars a day panhandling - ignoring their dirty clothes and sickly faces. I shouldn't give them anything; they will spend the money on drugs or booze anyways. I worked earned my money; the reason they're homeless is because they didn't work hard enough or save their money. This narrative we tell ourselves gives relief to our bad feelings and a logical excuse to not help people in the streets.

We also take great pride in our community's outreach even if we do not know much about the organization. We give ourselves a pat on the back for all the work our centers do even if we have never seen or know the services and functions.

We carry an image the promotes the idea that homeless people are dangerous or criminals. An poorly dressed, unstable man who mumbles to himself is a classic stereotype of a person who lives in the streets. There is some validity in that image as many people who are homeless also suffer from mental health problems and poverty is a factor in crime. However, this stereotype can be used to exclude, judge, or harm someone unfairly.

Furthermore, a homeless person can be the decently dressed kids on the bus or the woman selling soap in front of the cathedral. People experiencing homelessness can be sleeping in their cars, living out of motel rooms, or couch surfing. They also can be actively attending school, college or a job. When you close the distance and realize that people suffering homelessness are a lot like you, it can make you fearful, anxious but also more likely to see the people for who they are instead of their living conditions.

Shame makes me want to turn away from homelessness because of the overwhelming complexities it makes me feel. Only through admitting these feelings to others can we discuss the shame regarding homelessness. Once we see that we are turned in on ourselves, we can begin learning, listening and reaching out to truly connect and help others.

Owning Shame

While we are ashamed of ourselves in certain social situations, we also have the experience of being shamed from others. This is when someone actively makes you feel wrong or flawed which disconnects you from the others who are 'normal'. It can be with direct statements or jokes or can be through subtle messages. People with the best intentions can make someone feel ashamed or it can be someone hurting and looking to hurt others. It can be two guys making fun of a third when he shared that Where the Red Ferns Grows made him cry as a kid or a group of women for chastising a new mother for choosing to go back to work after childbirth.

Our society - through advertising, media and stereotypes - also feeds of countless messages that we are not enough.

A person who grows up in a disadvantaged neighborhood can feel ashamed of their circumstances from a young age. Even if their peers are from the same area, there is still the certainty that being poor is bad which means you are bad. Some of the damaging messages from the world are that your parents are lazy, being poor means you are dirty or stupid and that you can be only happy with a nice house and expensive things.

It is the painful truth that having insufficient income for living comfortably results in a less healthy life with less opportunities. Also, in areas of low income and poverty there are other toxic issues such as high unemployment, poorly funded public schools, lack of accessibility to healthcare and high crime rates.

However, instead accepting the shame put upon them, I see people proudly claiming their culture. They have a different identity from people of other neighborhoods and social classes but they share the culture of the neighborhood. Many poor people take the negative opinions and criticisms, remove or embrace the stigmas, and proudly represent their culture and experiences.

In the United States, I see a culture that emerged from the inner city or the 'hood'. From the inner city, which are communities predominantly POCs, the first jazz, rap, break-dancing and hip-hop emerged. Fashion, hair styles, slang, and other elements of culture that were once localized in a marginalized neighborhood moves to mainstream culture as the edgy, cool new thing (and often omitting where or whom these elements of culture came from). A lifestyle that celebrities imitate and the businesses of fashion and music capitalizes on it.

In Argentina there is also both shaming and celebrating the culture of the rough, poverty stricken neighborhoods called the villas (pronounced VEE-shas). Villas are dangerous, extremely poor areas that lack proper housing and sometimes basic services such as trash removal, ambulances, and police. The people from the villas face discrimination, hardships and severe lack of opportunities. Yet, parts of their culture such as the music of Cumbia Villera or the rap artist Duki are now mainstream and appreciated by many. Someone from the villas may feel ashamed of his home or education but he feels proud of his style and music. It certainly does not solve or address the bigger issues of poverty but maybe with possessing a strength in himself, the man from the villas can find the strength to take on the larger issues in the world.

For shame to thrive it needs 3 things: secrecy, silence, and judgement. Maybe the reason I am so ashamed to discuss how I feel about people suffering homelessness is because it's something not polite or proper to talk about. We can talk about homelessness in abstract terms but we are never encouraged to befriend these people on the margins.

Perhaps people from disadvantaged neighborhoods have figured out that speaking up is what kills shame. That sharing our wounds and sorrows with others builds strength, forms communities and creates a unifying force that drives actual social change.

There are countless things to cry shame upon in this lifetime. Will you keep your pain inside and isolate yourself? Or cry upon the shoulder of another and God to grow through you weakness?


Please watch Brené Brown's TEDtalk full of humor, heart and more of what I touched on.

Thank you for walking with me today. Feel free to share your thoughts, stories, disagreements or questions below, on Facebook or through my email. See you all next week!

Chacos, Birkenstocks or Wal-mart? Identity and Social Class

Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins (in this case, second-hand sandals)

Months ago, in the middle of August, I began the first week of my program in Chicago. I remember the week of orientation was full of extreme emotions; the yearning to make a good impression, both grief and hope as we discussed global problems and solutions, and the ever shifting tide between excitement and anxiety. As I met 100+ young people from all over the country, both alumni who completed their year of service and newbies just beginning, I was eager to connect.

Yet, there was something that made connecting difficult. It wasn't my occasional off-key singing or not knowing any song lyrics or that I sometimes chew with my mouth open (gross, I know). Instead, this is something deeper that became part of my identity in childhood.

It is identifying as poor, as a member of the lower class.

I have little shame in the financial circumstances of my childhood, although my parents might. I was never hungry; food stamps and free lunches at school gave me additional food security. My parents always paid the electric, heat and even the cable bill on time. I had state provided healthcare and my parents somehow had the money to pay for orthodontics. We even had time and money to travel which is truly a great privilege.

However, from an early age, there were times I felt abnormal based on my circumstances. During back-to-school shopping I was allowed to buy 3 new outfits so I wore the same clothes often. There was the need to make my ripped jeans 'cool' instead of just old and ratty and that year when we all shared the Christmas present of new furniture.

None of these things are meant to invoke sympathy and in countless ways I had an amazing childhood full of love, support and, yes, adequate material possessions and security. Nevertheless, I have had some painful experiences that others my age may not be able to relate to, especially young adults from different financial backgrounds.

Today, I am a college graduate, have a closet full of clothes and traveled to Europe; all characteristics more common to the middle or upper class than working class. Yet, in many ways, I still feel like that girl labeled as 'poor'. They call economic class socioeconomic status because class is not solely based on income but on the social circles and culture a person relates to. After graduating college, I earned enough money to be more financially comfortable than my childhood; yet I still carry the habits and attitudes from my poor background. I love shopping at thrift stores, taking pride in finding name brand clothes for less and spending my money wisely. I know that the unexpected happens so I made sure to have decent amount in savings and good credit score by my early 20s.

Unfortunately, it is just not good habits that I carry with me. There is also a jealousy at others' unearned advantages and an anger at their blindness (ignoring the log in my own eye of my unearned advantages and blindness). In my teenage years, as I learned more of the injustices in society and the policies that keep the poor disadvantaged, my emotions oscillated between heartbreak and rage. I felt strong emotions at the inequality of our broken world and often released this energy towards unsuspecting people of the middle and upper class. At that time, I would rant when anyone complained about emptying the dishwasher because that had water, and dishes and a dishwasher! Probably a matching set of dishes from Ikea! So much more than so many!

Since then, I have pretty much come to terms with the ugliness inside myself that unfairly classifies people due to social class. I see the world in more shades of gray than in black and white and I know it is unfair to stereotype someone and blame them for societal ills.

Still, subconsciously, I have feelings of being unable relate to people who are of a different economic class. It seems that Young Adults in Global Mission has a uniform of expensive sandals, iPhone 7s and a private education that I did not know about and can only partially relate to.

It sounds materialistic and image conscious yet objects are the easy things to compare. It is harder to admit that when I hear of my friend with a near perfect smile lamenting over a future with braces, I shamefully think of my mother's rotting teeth and her need for serious dental work. Or when my friends share stories of their rough days in college, I think of the semester I worked 40+ hours during the weekends and failed half my classes.

By many standards of American society, I have the security, finances, education, and access to healthcare that sets me above the poverty class. Living my life here, I have an even greater privilege of wealth, security and personal freedom. It seems like a contradiction that I both have tremendous amount of privilege and identify with the lower class, yet it is the truth. Internalizing the message that I am part of the working class and it developing in my identity is just one of the many complexities surrounding poverty.

I had a brand new Barbie bike WITH tassels for my 5th birthday!! Such privilege!

Currently, Christians are in the season of Lent, or Cuaresma in Spanish. It is a time of year is for acknowledging the sinfulness and brokenness of both ourselves and of our society. The focus is on repentance - a turning away from wickedness - and how a relationship with Jesus the Christ is necessary leave our old selves behind.

This Lent, I want to take you on a journey with one of the greatest societal sins: poverty. The next four weeks I will be sharing the poverty here I see in Argentina, the complexity of our attitudes toward the poor and the role of social institutions such as churches.

Undoubtedly, people from the United States are very generous in helping the poor. I am impressed with the speed and effort many undertake to donate food, water, and money to areas affected by hurricanes, tornadoes and other natural disasters. Numerous people regularly give their time and energy to helping the needy. On the other hand, Americans also have many arguments as to why they should not help the poor. People do not support policies that raise people out of poverty and demonize the lowest in society, blaming poverty on moral degradation of the individuals.

I want to take a walk down this painful, broken path. Where complexities and false information thrive; where people are put against each other in the evilness of Right vs Left and the promise that political parties or religious institutions offer the absolute solutions. I want to talk about poverty and morality in an open, honest space where right vs wrong is more important.

Feeling uncomfortable? Ashamed? That's natural! Please read next week's blog about why it is so hard to talk about poverty.

As always, thank you for reading and for your willingness to stretch your mind.

Please feel free to email me or comment (I will know how to respond this time haha) if you want to chat more. See you all next week!

Un Verano en Argentina

An American in Argentina

Journey with Joy

Newsletter February 2018

Micheala, Nichole and I freezing in the glacier lake of Nahual Huapi in Bariloche

While many of you are waiting for warmer days or waiting to see if Punxsutawney Phil's February prediction came true (an American tradition that I can't even explain in English), the summer sun has been shining down on me in the Southern Hemisphere. Myself, along with the other young adult volunteers across the globe, are issued around a month of vacation time during our year in service. Much of my January and February has been spent visiting my friends throughout the very different landscapes of Argentina.

One of the countless blessings I have received this year is Argentina's laid-back, tranquil culture; especially evident in the high value placed in vacaciones. It seems that the whole country is on vacation; even people who do not have much try to visit their family or go to the beach for the weekend. Many small businesses such as produce shops or bakeries close for a few weeks while the owners go on vacation. The summer season seems to be for sharing time with family, relaxing and trying to stay cool.

During our time off we are told to live within our adequate but humble stipends and be mindful of our host communities. Within this vacation time we are permitted to have our families and friends visit and during our program orientation we had thoughtful conversations about the implications extensive or lavish vacations can create.

Receiving visitors can be very complicated for volunteers. Besides planning logistics it can be difficult to share your new community with your visitors and for two groups of different cultures and languages to understand each other. While our guests are tourists who are wanting to explore and see all that there is to offer, we are residents who try our best to fit into our communities. There have been parents who visited in the past that stayed at pricey hotels and took the family to exotic, expensive places. I am sure that their top priority was to visit with their son or daughter but they may have their own idea of vacation; one that involves eating the finest cuts of Argentina's famous steaks, seeing the best tango dancers and staying in charming, upscale neighborhoods of Buenos Aires. In short, vacations that involve lots of money.

When I first heard of inappropriate vacations volunteers took in the past, it was easy for me to shake my head in a mixture of distaste, jealousy, and amusement. I knew that my parents could never afford to stay at a fancy hotel anywhere in South America - they would not even be able to afford a single flight. As I sat in my stylish yet second-hand clothes, I felt pride wash over me and an assurance that I would never be like those volunteers.

Pride and Joy sound like a great combination but I was thankfully knocked off from my polished pedestal. The universe was quick to remind me of the sheer amount of social and economic privilege I do have; both in my life in the United States and as an American in Argentina. My life is overflowing with unearned good fortune - I see former classmates and other young adults who would thrive in the type of program yet are unable to apply. So many hard working individuals who do not have the financial security or social support network to live in another country for a year.

Within my life here, my privilege is more apparent. My iPhone 6 cased in an expensive Otterbox stands our sharply against the iPhone4s; as do my numerous outfits compared to my friends who own only a few. Advantages I take for granted - like a straight smile by years of braces or the knowledge of riding a bike - remind me not all have had those blessings in childhood.

As vacation season comes to an end, my Argentine friends are interested in hearing of my vacation time since they have not had the opportunities to visit such famous sites. In less than 6 months of living here, I have traveled more than many people who have lived here their entire lives. I did not work hard or do anything to deserve this travel; I have just been blessed to have the freedom, money and invitation to visit the homes of many within this beautiful and diverse country.

Yet when I share the stories of my travels, it is not the actual places I speak about the most but the people who enriched the spaces. My memory of hiking up Cerro Cementerio is full of laughter, sweat and jokes as my country mates and I trekked the steep path (with accompanying music of Baird on mandolin). Seeing the Seven Lakes around Bariloche was breathtaking but it is getting sand in our pasta salad and our Seven Selfies that really made the excursion. The national park of Iguazu was stunning yet it was Beatriz's friend Rosita that made us all feel light-hearted and cared for. The lights of Paraguay across the river from Posadas was memorable but it was the song every Guenes sang along to the on the radio that was truly unforgettable.

I have a tremendous amount of privilege to have been able to have traveled so much in life. I pray that I tell of my travels with humbleness, openness and honesty. I hope that when I share the stories of my vacations, the people that touched my heart take center stage. Seeing God's work across the rolling green plains,  sapphire lakes and picturesque mountains were honestly some of the most awe-inspiring, gorgeous sights of my life. Yet getting to know God's creation of beautiful people and personalities is a stronger blessing to me.

Rosita, Beatriz, Nichole and I at Las Tres Fronteras in Puerto Iguazu

In Beatriz's cabin after cooking something delicious (or at least edible)

Dinner at a fancy restaurant with the wonderful Guenes' in Posadas <3 

Nico actually smiled in this picture of us! At the Jesuit Ruins of San Ignacio in Misiones

Looking cute in Bariloche

How we typically looked in Bariloche

Bible studying, music playing and enjoying each other's company during our second retreat

Big, genuine smiles after our hike on Mt. Llao llao (with 'our' seguros!)

Friends made on our 22-hour bus ride from Bariloche to Buenos Aires

Milk Jam looking fly in La Plata when they came to visit me <3

Confianza

Confianza: image found on Google Argentina

The beginning of a new year undeniably feels like a fresh start. Even if you are against making ambitious resolutions, it is true that everywhere you look you are reminded that this time of the year is different. There are end-of-the-year countdowns, fireworks and the struggle of writing the correct date. The news reports on the first baby born and the first person murdered (typically different people).

Personally, I did not make any resolutions because I still have goals from last year taking up my mental space. However, I did keep the practice of choosing a guiding word for the year, inspired by dearest friend Karen Wicker.

My word of choice last year was Embrace. It helped me to be fully present and actively participate in interactions. The word guided me to applying for this year of international service, reminding me that in order to grow and live a life I have dreamed about, I need to embrace big and scary changes. I physically hugged people more often and tried new things even if I was hesitant. This word was one that I meditated on throughout the 12 months; upon reflection, it helped me increase my awareness and make changes in my life for the better - in both big and small ways.

This year's word is Confianza (con-fee-AN-sa). Obviously related to the English word confidence, this word means more than merely feeling strong in yourself. It is also the word for trust such as "tener confianza en tus amigos" or "to have trust in your friends". Some of the English synonyms are confidence, trust, reliance, faith, reliability and belief.

I first learned this word during a retreat I had with my fellow program volunteers. Our first afternoon together in the tranquil retreat center, we sat down and spoke of our experiences so far. Paola and Monica were the facilitators in this discussion, guiding us through the sharing this unique time in our lives.

Out of the numerous descriptive words we used, confianza was the one that truly stood out. Confianza in ourselves, confianza in other people and confianza in God.

Looking focused as Paola and Monica lead us in a discernment session in Colonia UY

This word fascinated me with its layered meanings and due to it's significance to our group, I chose it to guide me this year. Furthermore, my personality is already pretty confident and open to trusting in the Divine and others.

Only a few days after New Year's Eve, I was doubting my word of choice. Maybe I should have chosen a theme that requires more active attention such as Patience or Time Management. A word that will drive me towards obvious improvement like Study or Exercise or Stop-Eating-So-Much-Dulce-De-Leche.

However, in this past week, I realized confianza is lacking in my life.

The first time I noticed it was when riding the bus to my worksite. I had stayed up too late and overslept, meaning I would be arriving 4 hours later than originally intended. There were no formal sessions or workshops this week but a group of us were cleaning and painting the building. Still, anxious thoughts filled my mind: what if they are upset I'm late? what if Rami tells another joke and I don't get it and don't laugh? what if doesn't tell a joke but I laugh thinking he did? do they think I am the worst volunteer since my Spanish is so bad? do they even like me? A large, irrational part of me simply wanted to return back to the comfort of my bed.

Yet, I realized how little trust I was having in the people at my work. Authentic people who have been nothing but kind, patient, and accepting. People who genuinely make me feel welcomed every time I enter the brightly colored doors. Not only was I lacking confidence in myself but also lacking trust in the people who have so graciously and very literally open their doors to me.

Another time, a few days later, I traveled to Buenos Aires for an acamparmento which was a camp for the high school youth of the IELU. I traveled alone, which is not uncommon, and I took the familiar bus, train, subway route to the station of Retiro to get on the train line towards the municipality of Hurlingham.

While the day before was in the mid-90s, this day was rainy and chilly, especially in my tank top and shorts. My morning became even grayer when I missed my stop on the train. After backtracking and spending an unneeded 10 pesos, I arrived to the right station. Quickly I realized how poor of quality my directions were and I wandered around for awhile, feeling too nervous to ask anyone for help and altogether bad.

There was a strong uncertainty in myself but also an unwillingness to trust in anything or anyone else. During this time, I berated myself for not understanding the directions before leaving the house, for not having the courage to ask someone for assistance and for not wearing a sweater.

I tried to clear my head and focus on whom I do trust, which is God. I have faith in a Creator, in a Supreme Being who is always with us, there to guide our feet and light our path. Yet in a time of anxiety I am so quick to close up, to focus only on what I can tangibly do to change my situation. Often we are believers during the bright, happy times yet chose to walk alone in the mud and the rain.

So I prayed. And I thought of all the people who are praying for me and how I am not alone spiritually even if I am physically a little lost, standing alone under an umbrella in an upscale neighborhood.

Unsurprisingly, a weight was lifted off me. Even though I was hours late and lost, I relaxed. I was able to admire the lush plants being nourished by the rain and the marvels of modern architecture. I was able to loosen up and ask a woman where a certain street was located. Then I asked someone else since I didn't understand the first person. By the time I made it to my destination, the doubts were quelled and I felt prepared to begin a fun weekend.

Confianza is something internal but certainly not a solitary road of self-improvement. Because in order to have it, others are a part of the equation. Trusting that a group of people will be authentic, open and wanting you to join. Trusting that no matter where you go - whether planned or by mistake - that a higher power is with you.

Chose a word to guide you and you may be surprised how much it is missing from your life.

Sharing a Dream

Sharing a Dream

Most weekday afternoons and a rare early morning I take a bus from my city to the small locality called City Bell to my “work site”. My program is a facet of the Lutheran church yet my work is not; I volunteer at a non-profit called Compartieno Un Sueño, a grassroots community center that focuses on children and their families regardless of faith or political alignment. The name of this dynamic organization translates to Sharing A Dream which, coincidentally, represents my view of missionary work very well. I am here to witness, learn and understand; not to push or force my views on anyone.

Compartieno Un Sueño serves around 50 families living in poverty. When I explain my work to people from the U.S., I compare it to an after school program. The space is open weekdays from 9 in the morning until 7:30 at night and each day hosts different workshops. This includes sessions like homework help, ceramics, cooking, art and music, and dance. There is also a certificate program for adults to finish their primary school education that meets once a week. Every day at 5:30 it is time for merienda which is something like snack time as most Argentines typically do not eat dinner until after 8pm. All are welcome to stop by for a snack and something hot to drink during cold months. 

When I speak to people here in Argentina, I call it a comedor, a place people can receive free meals. Besides the daily merienda every other Saturday families come to receive dry goods for their home. I have helped prepare the many bags of flour, noodles, beans, oil and cans of food and I am shocked at how many people are fed by CUS.

In my struggles of knowing so little of the language, lacking knowledge of my workplace is one of the most frustrating. From day one I felt warmly welcomed and wanted; yet I did not fully understand the history or purpose of the program. It has taken me a long time to piece together information of the relationships between the people, the roles they play in the organization and the realities of the hardships of the community. I’m am embarrassed to say it took me almost 2 months to comprehend that everyone was volunteering their time!

Counting fingers and helping each other with math during Apoyo Escolar

Compartieno Un Sueño was began by one woman over ten years ago in response to the need in her community for children to be fed. These children on average had one meal a day at school and went to bed hungry. Paula Gil renovated her garage into a space for nurturing and nourishing; creating a fairly large, multipurpose room and adding a kitchen and bathroom. Today, the walls are brightly colored with artwork and the space is jam packed with books and supplies.

The mission began with addressing hunger, starting with a daily snack then later adding food for dinner that each family took home. But soon another need became obvious: along with food there must be other nourishment that allows each child to be a full person.

I am still figuring out what this means. I know that the children live in poverty; that crime, drugs, violence are all problems in their community and families. Some of their houses are lacking flooring or glass windows and have walls and a roof made out of scrap materials. I know that the children are labeled as bad kids just for where they come from - and, unsurprisingly, they often behave that way. That the stereotypes are sometimes fitting; I know kids with sunny personalities and adequate school supplies and kids with attitudes, rough edges and wearing yesterday’s dirty clothes. Kids who are called dangerous by people who ignore that it is the kids' living situations that are the real danger.

My lack of understanding has made me cautious in sharing my work as I am afraid to misinterpret or convey wrong ideas. However, perhaps even if I spoke perfect Spanish I would still struggle to decipher the nuances of the context. Because when I think of discussions of poor neighborhoods of Toledo, I think of the disagreements and discord. I think of the radically different views in terms of societal and personal responsibility and general lack of comprehension of the causes of poverty that are deeper than income.

As my understanding of castellano grows, so does my understanding of both the basic and the complex. In the meantime, I will continue witnessing, participating and being myself.

This week it is full on summer vacation so the workshop for homework help has been turned into games, art, and reading. I helped with tie-dying, played Jenga (or whatever they call it here), and decorating the space for Nochebuena (Christmas Eve). I know all the popular hand clapping games, most which are variations of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' and once tried to translate one of my own which was met by confusion. I am excellent at Veo-Veo (I-Spy) because it involves pointing but the spelling in Ahorcado (Hangman) gives me problems. I also eat merienda with the kids, something that no other adults seem to do but I guess it’s fine.

I do not need fully understand in order to be present. Through participation and relationships I can share myself with these amazing people as they have shared so much with me.

Kids everywhere love balloons! Here they drew faces on them :)

The girls who study social work at the university brought the balloons, games and smiles

(Extra)Ordinary

From my own terrace was the brightest rainbow I have ever seen!

I am living a year of my life in South America and it is an adventure.

Some people may be imagining me in a jungle, surrounded by parrots in lush, rich greenery and living in a charming, albeit bug-infested cabana. Or maybe in the breath-taking mountains surrounded by llamas and the depths of the landscape. Perhaps you have a picture of me in a chaotic metropolis full of lights, colors, people and the music of cumbia in the air.

While there are occasional parrots and tropical birds, pigeons are the ones who sit on the rooftop terrace with me. Argentina is home to tropical green lands but in northwest a long 16 hours by bus to the providence of Misiones. I have not yet visited the terrain of Patagonia, a 22 hour bus ride southwest, but I am told it is more beautiful than the photos. Not sure yet if there are llamas.

Calling a medium-sized city home, I am happy to say La Plata is full and colorful. This city is known for one of the largest universities in the nation; stylish young people fill the streets, speaking lunfardo (Argentine slang) and wearing trendy platform shoes. Ironically, I am building a cumbia argentina playlist as I type (hopefully with all the classics).

Argentina is incredibly diverse in geography, climate and culture per region which sparks a curiosity within and a desire to explore. During the vacation season I plan to visit both Patagonia and Misiones to see some of the strong diversity of the country.

These plans of visiting new regions are a big deal. They bring to mind the spirit of adventure. Something unforgettable, daring, and maybe a little crazy; experiences or sensations that make our hearts pound and blood rush.

You may be surprise to learn that those intense emotions often come to me in daily life as opposed to my more exotic travels. When I am a tourist, I gladly accept being an outsider because I know I am a person visiting for a few days before continuing on my way. No, it is my identity as a foreigner and my everyday living that stimulates the excitement and anxiety of adventure.

Appearance wise, I may or may not look Argentine depending on who you ask. The color of my skin or hair does not completely make me stand out as a foreigner as there are many rubias, blondes, from European descent but some have said since I am very blonde I do stand out. Perhaps my style of clothes make me as outsider but what really marks me as foreign is my use (misuse) of language.

I am not exaggerating when I say that the moment I begin speaking people instantly know I am a yankee (which they pronounced shan-kee).

On good days, my simple sentences get the point across although with strange word choices and a strong accent. But many times, I cannot be understood or cannot understand what is being said to me.

I enter the fiambrería (deli) a few blocks from my house. The girl on the other side of the counter is nice and there is no one else in the place so I feel more comfortable, knowing that I usually hold up the line. I ask for mozzarella but she pulls out bleu cheese. Even though words like cheddar and mozzarella are the same in Castellano (this dialect of Spanish), I have to point to the cheeses because my accent is so peculiar. Also, I do not know how to say how much I want so I just motion with my hands. I leave the store feeling good of the positive interaction; I am fortunate that the girl was patient and interested in where I am from rather than annoyed. I am not always so lucky.

Living here for four months now, there are a certain set of stores I visit out of proximity; 4 different almacéns (small grocery stores), one large supermarket and an inexpensive produce place near my work. Argentina is home to numerous small businesses so I have talked to all the people who work there and even the family owners. I try my best to form connections but my limited vocabulary plus the internal pressure to be friendly usually means I stick to the conversation template I have practiced. Also, I typically do not understand what they say to me so many of them have stopped trying to start conversations.

There are many kioscos in my neighborhood which are like corner stores where you order from a guy at a window. I have only stopped there with friends because I have strong anxiety of asking for what I want. Sure I can say 'Un Sprite por favor' but I don't know how to ask for which size and when I get nervous I forget my words. Not only can I not ask politely but sometimes I can't ask at all! Only recently do I feel confident in my numbers and I have stopped giving people the wrong amount of money.

More Difficult Daily Situations:
1. Not having GPS or a map to get around
2. Asking for directions
3. Understanding directions given to me
4. The fear that someone will ask me for directions
5. Being spoken to by a random person - usually I don't understand so I say 'no lo se' or I don't know

This all may sound bleak but the optimism that is such a large part of my personality typically laughs about it, shakes it off bad experiences and treasures the positive interactions. When I feel frustrated or depressed, I remember that challenges, internal and external, promote growth and development in people. Plus, daily my language skills are improving and I am proud at my growth.

For me, the big adventure does not lie in the wonder of the places I visit or the number of cities I encounter. Every day, every interaction holds adventure. It can be high anxiety and downright scary at times but the thrill of having a full conversation, understanding and using humor, and constructing a life here is daring and exciting its simplicity.





Interested in learning more about this program? Know someone 21-29 who would be interested in a year of international service? Please visit Young Adults Global Mission. Applications are open from December 1 until February 15!