Just a quick note:
I've been wondering why I haven't been getting many comments on the blog (aside from the fact that 2 people including myself probably read it...), and then I realized that the way I had the settings required people to be a member of the blog in order to leave comments.
Not anymore though! So please, feel free to offer your thoughts!
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
5 Stars for Starbucks
Some people may criticize our country for its capitalist ways - I once heard one young woman complain that there is a Starbucks on every corner and that such over-abundance crosses the line and becomes nothing short of gree and gluttony.
There was and may be once again a time when I agreed with that sentiment. However, on an afternoon that has faded into evening, when my friends dropped me off on a street corner in DC and I had to wait 2 hours for my train, Starbucks took me in, sat me down, gave me (well, not GAVE me - I had to pay) a tall steamed milk and a bag of chai tea and let me read and write and attempt to solve sudoku puzzles until it was time for me to leave. Heck, they even let me use their restroom a time or two!
And when my train arrived 20 minutes earlier than I expected, there Starbucks was, waiting for me with its arms wide open, its windows twinkling and its bright green sign guiding my way. Again, it took me in, sat me down, and this time GAVE me a tall wild sweet orange tea - "Just say I charged you," the guy not having such a great day behind the counter told me.
On an afternoon faded into evening such as this, all I can say is, "Thank you Starbucks, for being so greedy, so gluttonous, so wonderful."
There was and may be once again a time when I agreed with that sentiment. However, on an afternoon that has faded into evening, when my friends dropped me off on a street corner in DC and I had to wait 2 hours for my train, Starbucks took me in, sat me down, gave me (well, not GAVE me - I had to pay) a tall steamed milk and a bag of chai tea and let me read and write and attempt to solve sudoku puzzles until it was time for me to leave. Heck, they even let me use their restroom a time or two!
And when my train arrived 20 minutes earlier than I expected, there Starbucks was, waiting for me with its arms wide open, its windows twinkling and its bright green sign guiding my way. Again, it took me in, sat me down, and this time GAVE me a tall wild sweet orange tea - "Just say I charged you," the guy not having such a great day behind the counter told me.
On an afternoon faded into evening such as this, all I can say is, "Thank you Starbucks, for being so greedy, so gluttonous, so wonderful."
Incredible.
Roughly 2 million people showed up for the inauguration of Barack Obama.
0 were hurt.
0 were killed.
0 were arrested.
Incredible.
0 were hurt.
0 were killed.
0 were arrested.
Incredible.
Extending open hands to unclenched fists...
It's 6 am Tuesday morning and my party and I are bundled and ready to face the biting cold of January in Virginia. We're preparing ourselves for a historical day and I'm not fully aware of the magnitude of what I'm about to experience.
We shrink from the cold the moment we step outside, pulling on hats and tugging up zippers to deny to even the slightest hint of cold into our layers. It's still dark but we slide into our blue Chev Malibu rental car and shiver as we settle onto cold leather seats filled with hope for a sunny day; a new day.
The toll road (which is notably newer, smoother and more well-maintained than those in LA!) is empty and though we've gotten a late start, we're encouraged by the seemingly abandoned road. We head to the metro and a quiet morning ride gives us time to wake up and summon our energy for the day.
We get our first taste of "traffic" (which is really pretty cute compared to the jams in LA) as we pull into the parking lot of the metro station. Though the line is long, things go smoothly and we find our spot on Level 3 A.
The cold jumps on us as soon as we step out of the car (you'd think a Wisconsin girl would've anticipated it better, but it caught me off-guard too!)
I realize how intense the day is going to be when I walk into the train depot and it closely resembles a mosh pit at an MXPX concert, only without the thumping music and body surfing. It takes my friend Jana and I at least 45 minutes of waiting in line just to buy our tickets!
We join the mob on the platform and are disappointed when the next train that comes through is full. The next one doesn't look promising either, especially since my toes are starting to sting from inadequate footwear and I'm getting nervous about standing outside in 20 degrees for three hours with the seeming equivalent of wool socks and argyle slipper. As the train squeals to a stop we get bold and make room for ourselves in the middle.
We get stuck at the next station coutesy of technical difficulties on behalf of the train ahead of us and to be honest I'm relieved to have the chance to stay in the warm.
The passengers in the car with me aren't irritated or upset at the hold up. Rather there is an electric pulse of happiness and patience pumping through the train. Sure, we're tired and we're cold, but as many see it, Hope is going to be realized today.
"Please be patient, folks," the conductor chimes over the radio. "We all in this together," he says in loose paraphrase of our President-to-be. We all smile at the conductor's upbeat attitude and at our excitement for the day.
As our train approaches the capitol, the conductor keeps announcing stops that have been closed and it looks like we're going to embark upon a pilgrimage to get to our destination. He tells us that pretty much the only option is MacPherson station, so we hop off here and follow the crowd about a mile and a half to the National Mall.
The streets are closed off to traffic and are filled from sidewalk to sidewalk with people heading at varied paces to be part of Obama's "Welcome Wagon".
Tamaya, Ryan, Jana and I claim our spot on the brown grass in the shadow of the Washington Monument. We park ourselves here, anxiously awaiting the beginning of the ceremony, first because it's time for a change and secondly because we're cold and some of my fellow inaugural enthusiasts are worried about frost-bitten toes.
The same energy that pulsed through the train is flowing through this peaceful mob of parents with kids, college students, grandparents and teenagers, singles and couples of every racial background you can think of.
Those of us who can see what's happening on the screen (which occassionally include me) cheer and boo in chorus as favored (and not so favored) politicians and public figures make their entrances. I feel a little bad as G.W. enters to a chorus that didn't suggest a request for an encore presentation but was more enthusiastic and willing to contribute to the harmony of praise that rang through the crowd as Obama was projected on the screen.
I'm amazed as a field of 2 million + people becomes absolutely silent to watch their new president take his oath and as they wait like kids sitting under a Christmas tree to hear his first words as Commander in Chief. There are cheers of assent and hearty "Amens" shouted throughout the speech and I forget for a moment that I'm not at a prayer service but an inauguration.
I'm cold; the wind is sinking its teeth into my double-layered legs; the sun is playing a fickle game of hide-and-seek; my toes are stinging and my nose is numb. But I'm AT the INAUGURATION of the first BLACK PRESIDENT of the United States. And though I'll believe it fully when I see it, I believe it can - that it will - happen; that our country can be changed for the better.
I know it's probably going to take a bit of an overhaul of the way we live now, but I think that with the encouragement and example of a man who truly values hard work and preserverence it can happen. Obama appears to embody everything I personally have been seeking in a leader: honesty, work ethic, a down-to-earth demeanor, humility, trustworthiness, sincerity. I look at Obama, and feel like I know him - Like I could just walk up to the White House and say "Hey Barack, how's it goin?" and he would sit down and talk with me about what's up. I think that he will represent our country well and hope that he'll provide an example that my generation and the ones after me can look up to and model ourselves after.
The ceremony is over and it takes a good part of 2 hours for the National Mall to clear out. We are frozen - our feet are stiff and my legs don't want to move - but are warmed nonetheless.
We again take over the streets with our numbers and as we approach the metro stop at Foggy Bottom there are security guards breaking the crowd up and allowing only a certain number of people into the station. No one gets upset; no one pushes or swears. They just wait. When our group goes in, some people behind us start cheering "Oh-bah-mah! Oh-bah-mah!"
I'm a little shy in admitting it, but today, for the first time in a long time, I feel consciously proud to be an American.
We shrink from the cold the moment we step outside, pulling on hats and tugging up zippers to deny to even the slightest hint of cold into our layers. It's still dark but we slide into our blue Chev Malibu rental car and shiver as we settle onto cold leather seats filled with hope for a sunny day; a new day.
The toll road (which is notably newer, smoother and more well-maintained than those in LA!) is empty and though we've gotten a late start, we're encouraged by the seemingly abandoned road. We head to the metro and a quiet morning ride gives us time to wake up and summon our energy for the day.
We get our first taste of "traffic" (which is really pretty cute compared to the jams in LA) as we pull into the parking lot of the metro station. Though the line is long, things go smoothly and we find our spot on Level 3 A.
The cold jumps on us as soon as we step out of the car (you'd think a Wisconsin girl would've anticipated it better, but it caught me off-guard too!)
I realize how intense the day is going to be when I walk into the train depot and it closely resembles a mosh pit at an MXPX concert, only without the thumping music and body surfing. It takes my friend Jana and I at least 45 minutes of waiting in line just to buy our tickets!
We join the mob on the platform and are disappointed when the next train that comes through is full. The next one doesn't look promising either, especially since my toes are starting to sting from inadequate footwear and I'm getting nervous about standing outside in 20 degrees for three hours with the seeming equivalent of wool socks and argyle slipper. As the train squeals to a stop we get bold and make room for ourselves in the middle.
We get stuck at the next station coutesy of technical difficulties on behalf of the train ahead of us and to be honest I'm relieved to have the chance to stay in the warm.
The passengers in the car with me aren't irritated or upset at the hold up. Rather there is an electric pulse of happiness and patience pumping through the train. Sure, we're tired and we're cold, but as many see it, Hope is going to be realized today.
"Please be patient, folks," the conductor chimes over the radio. "We all in this together," he says in loose paraphrase of our President-to-be. We all smile at the conductor's upbeat attitude and at our excitement for the day.
As our train approaches the capitol, the conductor keeps announcing stops that have been closed and it looks like we're going to embark upon a pilgrimage to get to our destination. He tells us that pretty much the only option is MacPherson station, so we hop off here and follow the crowd about a mile and a half to the National Mall.
The streets are closed off to traffic and are filled from sidewalk to sidewalk with people heading at varied paces to be part of Obama's "Welcome Wagon".
Tamaya, Ryan, Jana and I claim our spot on the brown grass in the shadow of the Washington Monument. We park ourselves here, anxiously awaiting the beginning of the ceremony, first because it's time for a change and secondly because we're cold and some of my fellow inaugural enthusiasts are worried about frost-bitten toes.
The same energy that pulsed through the train is flowing through this peaceful mob of parents with kids, college students, grandparents and teenagers, singles and couples of every racial background you can think of.
Those of us who can see what's happening on the screen (which occassionally include me) cheer and boo in chorus as favored (and not so favored) politicians and public figures make their entrances. I feel a little bad as G.W. enters to a chorus that didn't suggest a request for an encore presentation but was more enthusiastic and willing to contribute to the harmony of praise that rang through the crowd as Obama was projected on the screen.
I'm amazed as a field of 2 million + people becomes absolutely silent to watch their new president take his oath and as they wait like kids sitting under a Christmas tree to hear his first words as Commander in Chief. There are cheers of assent and hearty "Amens" shouted throughout the speech and I forget for a moment that I'm not at a prayer service but an inauguration.
I'm cold; the wind is sinking its teeth into my double-layered legs; the sun is playing a fickle game of hide-and-seek; my toes are stinging and my nose is numb. But I'm AT the INAUGURATION of the first BLACK PRESIDENT of the United States. And though I'll believe it fully when I see it, I believe it can - that it will - happen; that our country can be changed for the better.
I know it's probably going to take a bit of an overhaul of the way we live now, but I think that with the encouragement and example of a man who truly values hard work and preserverence it can happen. Obama appears to embody everything I personally have been seeking in a leader: honesty, work ethic, a down-to-earth demeanor, humility, trustworthiness, sincerity. I look at Obama, and feel like I know him - Like I could just walk up to the White House and say "Hey Barack, how's it goin?" and he would sit down and talk with me about what's up. I think that he will represent our country well and hope that he'll provide an example that my generation and the ones after me can look up to and model ourselves after.
The ceremony is over and it takes a good part of 2 hours for the National Mall to clear out. We are frozen - our feet are stiff and my legs don't want to move - but are warmed nonetheless.
We again take over the streets with our numbers and as we approach the metro stop at Foggy Bottom there are security guards breaking the crowd up and allowing only a certain number of people into the station. No one gets upset; no one pushes or swears. They just wait. When our group goes in, some people behind us start cheering "Oh-bah-mah! Oh-bah-mah!"
I'm a little shy in admitting it, but today, for the first time in a long time, I feel consciously proud to be an American.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bienvenidos a Mexico
When my sister asked me what I did this weekend, I told her, "Went to Mexico," as casually as I would have said "Stayed home. Watched a movie. Not much."
Her response: "MEXICO?!?!?"
But it wasn't really a big deal. A few people from DM were going and had an extra spot and said I could go along with them. And I really appreciated the simplicity of the trip.
We drove down Friday night and hung out at a beautiful house owned by a couple who is now living in San Diego. They come down every now and again to do outreach. Along with our group, there were some students from San Diego and a group of students from Loyola Marymount University in Santa Monica.
After a delicious dinner of toasted rolls with beans and a salsa of cilantro, chiles, tomatoes and onions, most of us went for a night hike led by tall guy named Pete who'd been there before. As we set out, the Santa Ana winds suggested that a sailboat would have been a more appropriate means of transportation than our legs - it was what I'd imagine a sand storm would be like! We bowed our heads and leaned forward into the wind as we made our way up an increaingly steep hill until we got to our destination: A part of the mountain that offers a majestic view the city of Tecate.
The winds were so strong at points of our descent that it felt like we were the targets of a herd of little boys who'd just gotten bb-guns for their birthdays and were target-practicing! The gravel and sand bit the backs of our legs through jeans and jogging pants alike!
Saturday was an early morning (well, for those of us who actually thought that 6 am meant 6 am and not 8!) and after breakfast my group headed to the water-damaged house we were going to work on.
The story of this family is simultaneously amazing and heart-wrenching:
The two kids we met were 14 -year old Michelle and 12-year old brother, Yoel. It's my understanding that they have younger siblings but we didn't meet any of them that day. What's so extraordinary about these two adolescents is that their parents aren't around - their mom died and their dad is in jail for at least 15 years and they have no other family to take care of them.
You know the phrase, "It takes a village..."? It's entirely true in this situation. The family court system in Mexico is so bad that these young kids are better off to stay in their house, without adults, than be put into "foster" care. So their neighbors watch after them - make sure they have food and clothes, go to school etc.
It was really a blessing to watch Michelle and Yoel interact with the adults from our group, especially one man, Arturo. He had his two daugthers along with him on the trip, but the fatherly love he showed to these two kids put a smile on my face despite their sad circumstance.
Michelle and Yoel weren't the only kids who got to experience unusual love while we were there; two kids from our neighborhood (let's call them Manny and Eddy) also got to see their dads, whose presence they've lived without for years.
Manny is a tough, scraggly kid with spiky hair, sparkling eyes and an attitude that makes up for his small stature. That's the Manny I get, anyway. He's the no-nonsense, "don't mess with me" type and he means it. But in Tecate he was a kid. He was free of the pressures to be a tough guy he feels in Boyle Heights and was so warm and goofy that I barely recognized him. His interactions with the other young people there - rough housing to rough house and not to prove himself - revealed how entirely transforming love can be.
This trip to Mexico wasn't life changing for me. And I'm glad that I didn't come back blown away by the poverty that I saw or feeling a sense of accomplishment for having helped someone. Don't get me wrong, there's validity and importance to feeling those things. But it wasn't a big deal. Just a great way to spend a weekend.
Her response: "MEXICO?!?!?"
But it wasn't really a big deal. A few people from DM were going and had an extra spot and said I could go along with them. And I really appreciated the simplicity of the trip.
We drove down Friday night and hung out at a beautiful house owned by a couple who is now living in San Diego. They come down every now and again to do outreach. Along with our group, there were some students from San Diego and a group of students from Loyola Marymount University in Santa Monica.
After a delicious dinner of toasted rolls with beans and a salsa of cilantro, chiles, tomatoes and onions, most of us went for a night hike led by tall guy named Pete who'd been there before. As we set out, the Santa Ana winds suggested that a sailboat would have been a more appropriate means of transportation than our legs - it was what I'd imagine a sand storm would be like! We bowed our heads and leaned forward into the wind as we made our way up an increaingly steep hill until we got to our destination: A part of the mountain that offers a majestic view the city of Tecate.
The winds were so strong at points of our descent that it felt like we were the targets of a herd of little boys who'd just gotten bb-guns for their birthdays and were target-practicing! The gravel and sand bit the backs of our legs through jeans and jogging pants alike!
Saturday was an early morning (well, for those of us who actually thought that 6 am meant 6 am and not 8!) and after breakfast my group headed to the water-damaged house we were going to work on.
The story of this family is simultaneously amazing and heart-wrenching:
The two kids we met were 14 -year old Michelle and 12-year old brother, Yoel. It's my understanding that they have younger siblings but we didn't meet any of them that day. What's so extraordinary about these two adolescents is that their parents aren't around - their mom died and their dad is in jail for at least 15 years and they have no other family to take care of them.
You know the phrase, "It takes a village..."? It's entirely true in this situation. The family court system in Mexico is so bad that these young kids are better off to stay in their house, without adults, than be put into "foster" care. So their neighbors watch after them - make sure they have food and clothes, go to school etc.
It was really a blessing to watch Michelle and Yoel interact with the adults from our group, especially one man, Arturo. He had his two daugthers along with him on the trip, but the fatherly love he showed to these two kids put a smile on my face despite their sad circumstance.
Michelle and Yoel weren't the only kids who got to experience unusual love while we were there; two kids from our neighborhood (let's call them Manny and Eddy) also got to see their dads, whose presence they've lived without for years.
Manny is a tough, scraggly kid with spiky hair, sparkling eyes and an attitude that makes up for his small stature. That's the Manny I get, anyway. He's the no-nonsense, "don't mess with me" type and he means it. But in Tecate he was a kid. He was free of the pressures to be a tough guy he feels in Boyle Heights and was so warm and goofy that I barely recognized him. His interactions with the other young people there - rough housing to rough house and not to prove himself - revealed how entirely transforming love can be.
This trip to Mexico wasn't life changing for me. And I'm glad that I didn't come back blown away by the poverty that I saw or feeling a sense of accomplishment for having helped someone. Don't get me wrong, there's validity and importance to feeling those things. But it wasn't a big deal. Just a great way to spend a weekend.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Swing of Things
My first four days of being back at work since returning from Christmas vacation have been much more encouraging and defeating than I expected.
It all started at the airport on Sunday night when the airlines forgot my luggage in St. Louis and my cellphone company suspended my service and I couldn't get in touch with my roommate who was going to pick me up and I had to take a cab home, the driver of which didn't speak English or Spanish but Ukrainian, a language I can't speak at all and didn't give me change back from the $70 I gave him for taking me the 30 miles from LAX to East Los Angeles and making me car sick.
Wow, welcome back, huh?
The good news: I got a Christmas card from a friend from back home who gave me a very generous Christmas present, which made up for the money I'd just spent in getting home and the $15 luggage fee I paid American Airlines to forget my luggage.
Coming to work on Monday was encouraging - everyone was happier to see me than I expected, and I really felt like my presence was missed while I was away.
Most Tuesdays we do meditations with the middle school students, which are really a unique experience considering most schools don't offer the chance to adolescents/young teens to take an hour a week to be quiet and do their best to concentrate on God. Sometimes I dread leading these because (believe it or not) teenagers aren't always willing to actually focus on God and the message and they aren't always forthcoming with their reflections on the experience. But this week, man, the girls in my group had a ton of energy and were engaged in the exercise as well as the discussion. I was blown away at how much thought they put into their answers and how much they wanted to share. That meditation is what has gotten me through the rest of the week.
Tuesday night we had confirmation and, after showing the first 30 minutes of "Field of Dreams" (our theme is "God calling you by name"), we broke up into small groups for discussion. I was pretty excited to hear what the kids had to say until we got into small groups and nobody had anything to say. I tried everything: calling on people; letting them write on the white board; I even gave them the opt-out of "You don't have to say anything - just nod your head for yes, shake it for no"! I know much of the success of any discussion depends on the willingness of the group, but I left feeling like a failure.
Although, I was (once again) encouraged by a kid who stayed after class to help me straighten up. As we were scooting tables across the floor and figuring out where the chairs belonged, he started telling me about what's going on in his life - which is pretty huge considering he's a guy and has a lot of cultural pressure on him to be macho - and he even showed me some of his poetry. I was honored that he chose to open to me, but I couldn't figure out the motivation. Then, as we walked out of the room, he told me that he'd stayed there to keep out of trouble. He and another student had gotten into a bit of a disagreement (the other kid was threatening to throw punches) before class and the kid who stayed after had the wisdom to avoid further conflict.
I was pretty impressed.
Then last night we had a meeting with the kids who have graduated from our middle school and have received scholarships to go to Catholic high schools. It was complete disaster, mostly because my boss and I didn't really plan anything. Why we thought playing Catchphrase with a bunch of 13-14-year olds for an hour was a good idea is beyond me. And we got what we put into it: Squirrely kids who wouldn't shut up or do anything for more than 15 seconds. And that's not even an exaggeration.
Not exactly the most harmonious note on which to end a long day.
But there's hope for them (and us!) and I've definitely learned a lot about energy in and energy out: it's not always a positive correlation. But the more energy you put in, the more you can say, "Well, at least I tried."
It all started at the airport on Sunday night when the airlines forgot my luggage in St. Louis and my cellphone company suspended my service and I couldn't get in touch with my roommate who was going to pick me up and I had to take a cab home, the driver of which didn't speak English or Spanish but Ukrainian, a language I can't speak at all and didn't give me change back from the $70 I gave him for taking me the 30 miles from LAX to East Los Angeles and making me car sick.
Wow, welcome back, huh?
The good news: I got a Christmas card from a friend from back home who gave me a very generous Christmas present, which made up for the money I'd just spent in getting home and the $15 luggage fee I paid American Airlines to forget my luggage.
Coming to work on Monday was encouraging - everyone was happier to see me than I expected, and I really felt like my presence was missed while I was away.
Most Tuesdays we do meditations with the middle school students, which are really a unique experience considering most schools don't offer the chance to adolescents/young teens to take an hour a week to be quiet and do their best to concentrate on God. Sometimes I dread leading these because (believe it or not) teenagers aren't always willing to actually focus on God and the message and they aren't always forthcoming with their reflections on the experience. But this week, man, the girls in my group had a ton of energy and were engaged in the exercise as well as the discussion. I was blown away at how much thought they put into their answers and how much they wanted to share. That meditation is what has gotten me through the rest of the week.
Tuesday night we had confirmation and, after showing the first 30 minutes of "Field of Dreams" (our theme is "God calling you by name"), we broke up into small groups for discussion. I was pretty excited to hear what the kids had to say until we got into small groups and nobody had anything to say. I tried everything: calling on people; letting them write on the white board; I even gave them the opt-out of "You don't have to say anything - just nod your head for yes, shake it for no"! I know much of the success of any discussion depends on the willingness of the group, but I left feeling like a failure.
Although, I was (once again) encouraged by a kid who stayed after class to help me straighten up. As we were scooting tables across the floor and figuring out where the chairs belonged, he started telling me about what's going on in his life - which is pretty huge considering he's a guy and has a lot of cultural pressure on him to be macho - and he even showed me some of his poetry. I was honored that he chose to open to me, but I couldn't figure out the motivation. Then, as we walked out of the room, he told me that he'd stayed there to keep out of trouble. He and another student had gotten into a bit of a disagreement (the other kid was threatening to throw punches) before class and the kid who stayed after had the wisdom to avoid further conflict.
I was pretty impressed.
Then last night we had a meeting with the kids who have graduated from our middle school and have received scholarships to go to Catholic high schools. It was complete disaster, mostly because my boss and I didn't really plan anything. Why we thought playing Catchphrase with a bunch of 13-14-year olds for an hour was a good idea is beyond me. And we got what we put into it: Squirrely kids who wouldn't shut up or do anything for more than 15 seconds. And that's not even an exaggeration.
Not exactly the most harmonious note on which to end a long day.
But there's hope for them (and us!) and I've definitely learned a lot about energy in and energy out: it's not always a positive correlation. But the more energy you put in, the more you can say, "Well, at least I tried."
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