It almost seems impossible for me to be writing this blog post but I guess it has to happen. My bags are packed and I leave for Uganda in the morning. We will be there for 2 weeks working with a church then we head to Tanzania to climb kili (prayers for that would be superb!!) and then I will be back in the states the end of this month!!! Rwanda I will be forever different because of you. You taught me really what it means to put others first. You showed me that there is always a positive to be found. You taught me self-confidence. You showed me that smile can sometimes communicate so much more than words. I learned the true meaning of patience because of you, Rwanda. You showed me that sometimes the only way to explain things is because it is the work of God (well everything is His work but still). You taught me that when you are uncomfortable that is where the growth happens. There is something amazing about this little East African country and I will never have the words to adequately articulate how grateful I am to have been able to call this place home for 2 months. I wasn’t really sure where I wanted this blog post to go but I thought I would share a few of my favorite moments from my time here. So the one and only time my host brother called me a mzungu was when I tried to dance for my family. Mzungu is a Swahili word that literally means someone who ‘wonders around aimlessly’ which then become slang for a white person because that is what we look like in Africa. We kinda just wander around looking a little lost, sticking out like a sore thumb. (I have yet to walk down the street without hearing Mzungu as I pass) But the fact that he called me a mzungu while I was dancing pretty much describes my dancing perfectly. [aka I can’t dance] I wish I could explain to yall what I was like to go on a safari and see WILD animals for the first time. There was something truly amazing seeing crocodiles, hippos, zebras and giraffes literally just roaming with no agenda because they are WILD and don’t have to have an agenda. I think the funniest text I have gotten while being in Africa was when my mom texted me telling me I had to stop tweeting about bugs. I told her that they were my friends and she goes ‘yeah that’s my point.’ I thank you all for following along with my bug adventures!!! Here is one final bug adventure from Rwanda. A few nights ago I walked into the bathroom (well shit hole) and stood there completely frozen. There were 22 cockroaches scurrying around!! I stood there for a second and was like welp lets go!!! My usual tactic to get rid of the cockroaches is to shine my flashlight on them and blow on them (they are too big and scary to kill) but as I stood there counting them I realized that if I tried to blow on TWENTY-TWO cockroaches I would pass out then I would have bigger issues than the 22 cockroaches so I said screw it and just let them hang out while I did what I need to do. After class one day a few of us decided to go to the market to get some fabric. Well the market can be a little stressful at times so we decided that getting snacks before hand would be a good idea. The plan was to eat a few snacks then head to the market. We walked out of the supermarket and sat down to munch on our chocolate biscuits and Doritos. Man were we a sight to see. First off here are 4 white girls sitting on the ground, that gets heads turning just for that then apparently it is kinda taboo to eat in public. So here you have 4 white girls, sitting on the ground outside of the supermarket, eating in public. We really didn’t care thought because we had snacks. There were many times I had ‘wow I’m living in Africa, this is actually my life’ moments but the biggest one was when Hannah, Emma and I started a dance a party in the market after it had closed. We had gotten to the market as it was starting to close, after looking around and buying some clothes (told my self I wasn’t going to get any more clothes made, haha well I lied to myself) we were going to leave but the rain moved in, and it moved in fast. Thankfully I have befriended some of the guys that sell fabric so we just hung out with them, sitting on closed booths talking. One of the guys started playing music and one thing led to the next and Hannah and Emma are standing on the booth dancing. At this point most of the tailors and other market sellers had gathered and were watching because it was still raining too hard for them to leave. It ended with Hannah and Emma having a dance off with on of the other guys. Yall it was crazy! I wish all of yall could have been there to witness it. So much fun! They said gap year was going to be a year full of memories that we would make nowhere else. I believed them but had no idea what I was walking into to and wow has it been amazing. Murakoze Rwanda, thank you! I will miss you dearly and cannot wait to be back. xoxo
Amy
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Hi! Yes I’m still alive! Yes I still love it here! Sorry it has been like forever since I’ve posted. I don’t know for some reason it seems to take longer to process things over here, hence the lack of blogs. I’ve been wanting to blog for a little bit now but haven’t really been sure what I wanted to write about that had some importance or that made sense, basically I have just been putting it off. But hey here we are so lets get on with this thing!! I have been in Rwanda for a little over a month now. There are some days that I forget that I’m in Africa. It still is crazy to me that I get to live here and experience a completely different culture everyday. What seemed so out of my comfort zone a month ago has now become my new normal. Never did I think peeing in a hole in the ground would be something I would get used to. Never did I think I would be able to navigate the market alone, and actually enjoy it (its still a little over stimulating but that’s what makes it so fun!!) Never did I think I would get to a point where I could actually enjoy dinner (dinner is combination of rice, beans, bananas, potatoes, mystery meat or cabbage—every night!), but hey I have some favorites now!! Never did I think that I would fall so in love with this country that I would want to move back here at some point in my life, but that’s my plan as of right now, gotta see if it aligns with the Big Man Upstairs. Shout out to my best friend for being right when she said I was never going to come home from Africa—well I’m coming home but….. I think part of the reason I have been putting of a blog is because I’ve been waiting for this one pinnacle moment during my time here when I can say ‘wow this is the moment that I grew! This is it! this is how I’ve grown into a better version of myself’ and I can confidently say that that has not happened. I guess I was just expecting to have this super hard time, with tears every day then just wake up one day and BOOM! I’m this amazing version of myself and I feel like I have the confidence of the world and can over come anything. Yeah not sure where I got that idea of it being that way but it hasn’t been that way. HOWEVER, I have learned that growth happens within, incrementally, over time but it is still happening. (maybe that is what I was supposed to learn) I realized this a few weeks ago but don’t think I was ready to fully admit that I wasn’t going to have a ‘giant growth moment’ per say. One of my friends and I were talking about growth and how we just really want to be growing and want to see the physical evidence that we have grown and I think that is when I first realized that it’s not a boom you have grown moment. The more we talked the more I kept thinking about how growth as a person is similar to roots of a tree. Roots of trees are this complex, intertwined system providing life to the tree but many times they are hidden within the soil. I realized growth is within a person, it is still happening but you may just not be able to see it right away. Basically we are all a bunch of trees with this complex root system that may never be seen by others but when the roots of a tree are healthy the tree is healthy and when the roots aren’t able to provide adequate nutrients for the tree then the tree cant grow. While I haven’t had that ‘BOOM grow moment’ I have been able to see little things along the way.
Ok so this blog was a little deeper than I was planning on (if you read it all!! Go you!! So proud!!) but I guess its what I need to get out. I’ve been keeping a list of random thoughts/ events that happen through the day so that I would share a few to end this on a lighter note
if you read all that you rock!!! i don't even know if i would have but thanks anywho!!
xoxo Amy Ok wow. Did the math today. I have 36 days left in Rwanda. 60 days until I’m back in the states. I have no idea where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday I took off from JFK. Like when I realized that, I panicked. I think part of the reason is because I don’t want to leave, which GO ME!! because 10 days ago I was ready to get on the next plane out of Kigali. I’m starting to adjust to things and I’m afraid that if I blink it will be over. I’ve stop seeking out toilets because I have finally learned the proper technique to using my hole. I haven’t used a showerhead since I left Jordan, but you know what, what the heck I’m getting clean enough. The food here, I’m still struggling with a little but I have found some foods that I will actually miss when I’m back. (weird thing, I miss the food from the Middle East more than the food back home) I think part of the reason the whole 36 days thing freaks me out so much is because I’m afraid that I’m not going to experience everything that I wanted to. Like what if I don’t to see the culture for what it is. What if I sought out too many ‘cute, western coffee shops’ and miss what is around me? But one thing that I’m trying really hard this semester to work on is not being as pessimistic and seeing the flip side of things and so with that said. I have 36 days left in Rwanda. This is about to be the best 36 days of my life. I think as I’m sitting here writing this I’m starting to realize more how much I’m actually enjoying myself and starting to be ok with the culture. Since we are all experiencing culture shock we like to give daily updates on what stage we are in. I think I can say that I have one solid foot in stage 4 and my other foot dabbles there, too. But we are getting there people!!! i don’t feel pissed off all the time (sorry mom, I know you hate that word but it really is the best way to explain what I was feeling). I’m starting feel like this is now normal. So this blog post was supposed to just be about a time when I went to a market and am learning to embrace the ‘being’ culture as opposed to the ‘doing’ culture I was raised in but then I realized the whole 36 days thing and had to have a little rant about that but now we are back on track. It is no surprise to anyone that America is very task-driven and wants to do do do. Or it may be surprising because it’s all you ever known, but news flash some cultures don’t care how many things get checked off your daily to do list as long has you spent time with someone. With that being said, Rwanda is very much a being culture and a long with that comes what is informally known as African time. African time is when someone says they will be there at 3 they may be there at 2:30 or they may be there at 5:30 but they will be there. When we first learned this, my first thought was ‘oh my gosh what if they are like dead in a ditch or something and you are just sitting there waiting?’ Justin (our fearless, loving leader) found that concept so funny, he was like what do you mean, they are just taking their time. I guess with Americans, or just for me, if someone is even 20 minutes late I think worst has happened because we don’t keep people waiting On Friday’s we don’t work but we have class at noon; the idea is to spend time with your family in the morning. I was honestly freaking out Thursday night because I was like ok what am I supposed to do for the 4 hours I have with my family, like how can I figure out to leave early because I’m not sure what I’m going to (this was still pretty heavy stage 3 for me.) I was supposed to go to the market with my mom Thursday evening but it ended up not working out so we decided to go Friday morning, SCORE I have something to take up my time. We agreed to go at 9. I went to bed feeling a little better. I had my little American time schedule all figured out for the next day. HA! Doesn’t God have a sense of humor, gotta love Him for that. I woke up the next morning and it was raining, you can’t go to the market when it’s raining so I had to wait. At first I was a little perturbed because I just wanted to go but it all worked out, I was able to watch some French cartoons with my host brother, and I found that it was kind of nice to wake up and not have to do anything right away. When the rain finally did pass we headed to the market, I had some pants that need to be hemmed. I was also excited to go with my host mom because I was hoping if I were with someone who understood how the market worked I wouldn’t be heckled as much. Yeah it helped a little bit but news flash I’m still white so I get heckled any way, thankfully not as much. We took my pants to the fabric section of the market which one thing led to another and I was picking out fabric to get a dress made. I knew I wanted to get a dress made but I figured I would go back another time because remember I my time schedule all planned out. Yeah I should have just scratched that schedule then, but in the moment I was still trying to stick to it. I got my fabric picked out and the style of dress that I wanted. The lady said it would be done in a hour and a half, my host mom decided that we should just stay around the market because by the time we walked home it would be time to walk back. I did a little mental math and realized my dress should be done at noon, which would be perfect because I would get to Justin’s around 12:30, no biggie. And it would be fun to walk around the market to see all the stuff. (Which side note markets are so cool!! a whole lot of hectic but so cool! they literally have EVERYTHING) After we walked around for a bit we still had like 30 minutes before my dress was done, so we just decided to head back to the fabric booth in hopes that our presence would speed the dress maker up. So we got to the booth and the lady, Anastasia, told me to sit but like literally on her table in her booth. So we sat and talked for a while. I think like 30 minutes in I had a little American time panic attack and texted Justin to tell him I was going to be late, but once again God and His sense of humor, the text didn’t deliver. After my little time freak out I just stopped myself and I was like ‘wow. I am sitting in a literal fabric booth in Rwanda, my friends are in class right now.’ That is when I first realized ok this is a moment I am going to remember for the rest of my life, a time when I was ok with just being and not doing. My dress finally was finished so I tried it on and then headed to Justin’s, smile on my face because I had a real African dress. And had a little taste of the being African culture. In typical humorous God fashion, He was going to be sure that I learned how to be. I got on my moto and I do not think we passed on car the whole 25 minutes it took to get to Justin’s. Usually moto’s are weaving around cars at stoplights so they can get to the front. Yeah not mine, even the truck with all the lumber hanging out of the bed passed us. And to add to it, I forgot to grab my headphones from the bottom of my bag. At first I was a little annoyed but then I was like ok I’m apparently supposed to be learning how to be so if that means no headphones that means no headphones.
It was really just one of those days where thing after thing was a flashing arrow pointing back to the fact that I need to be and not do. So now that is what I’m trying to do: BE. (little bit of an oxymoron but we’re getting there) Thanks for the continued love! xoxo Amy Expectations are usually something I try to steer clear from. I’ve always thought, why have these expectations on what something is going to be like when the majority of the time the end result is out of your control. You wanting and hoping for something to turn out a certain way but having limited control in the matter is frankly pointless in my book. That may be a pessimistic way to look at things but it’s how I do so… With that said though I think I had expectations coming into Rwanda, I’m not sure if they were good or bad or high or low but I am quickly realizing that they are there. I mean how could they not be, this is practically the reason I took a gap year: I wanted to be in Africa. I think the largest expectation I carried with me is that my desire to be here so badly would mean that I would instantly THRIVE, along with that I was going to come into these 12 weeks in Africa so open-minded that I wasn’t going to experience culture shock. HA. I can say without a doubt that I’m really not thriving (yet!) and I am definitely experiencing culture shock. There are 9 stages of culture shock, the first 5 happen while you are in the new country and the last 4 happen as a result of reverse culture shock when you go back to your home country. The first stage is the honeymoon stage, that is where everything is still so new but the newness excites you. While things are vastly different to what you are used to you are still in awe of the new culture to truly accept what is around you. This stage can last anywhere from a week to a month or longer, just depending on the person. I can proudly say that my honeymoon stage lasted a whopping DAY & A HALF. I do credit that to the fact that I woke up Wednesday morning and promptly threw up twice. I thought having a fever in Palestine without my mom was hard, oh boy was a wrong, throwing up in Africa with ABSOULTELY no wifi to text your mom takes the cake by far. I think being sick just snapped me right out of the honeymoon stage. Honestly the last place I wanted to be was Rwanda. I would have been perfectly fine getting on a plane and never leaving Kansas again. Stage two of culture shock brings about a strong feeling of isolation because all the new things you were excited about during the honeymoon face just frustrate you now. It is a weird feeling because I know that all the other gap year kids are feeling similar to me but in the moment you feel so alone. I have found that in the moments when I feel isolated, locking myself in my room, listening to music and crying doesn’t in fact help in the long run. (I can proudly say that that hasn’t for a few days!!!) In those moments when I really want to be alone the best thing for me is to push past the tears and leave my room to spend time with my amazing host family. Culture shock is a process but we are getting through it slowly but surely. While in the third stage of culture shock you pretty much reject everything around you; the food, the language, the people, it all. Along with rejecting it all you begin to question why you ever left the comfort of your culture and even become hostile towards the new culture you are placed in. This is perfectly normal and even healthy; it allows you to realize what you value about your culture back home. I will say it, even if it is healthy it is a pretty sucky feeling. Rationally I know that that I need to be present here and that the only way for me to accept new culture is to be present in it but emotionally it is hard and the thought of horse showing in May seems SO much better than here. I still haven’t had the privilege of making it all the way to stage 4 where acceptance begins, I think I may still have some work to do in stage three haha but there have been a few hints of acceptance here and there. Along with acceptance stage 4 is when you feel like you can somewhat face the world around you. Stage 5 is the independence stage, where you embrace the new culture; this means you enjoy the things around you along with accepting not only the similarities but also the differences. It is in this stage that the new culture begins to feel like home. The goal is to get here! And then the last 4 basically are the exact same except now in your own culture when you get home. It was kind of idiotic of me to think that I wouldn’t experience culture shock. I mean I mean I sleep with bugs, shower with bugs and pee with bugs; oh my toilet also happens to be a cement hole in the ground. The differences in the culture could go on for a while but I really don’t want to sit here and list all the things that are hard, because they were different. I started this blog post a few days ago and when I started I was ready to leave but slowly we are getting to a place where feeling bad for myself isn’t going to get me anywhere. I mean I eat French fries every night with dinner. Where else am I going to get to hang out with the CUTEST 2 & 4 year old for two months and get to call them brother and sister? When will I get the luxury of not having to drive for 12 weeks and getting to speed through the gorgeous country of Rwanda on a motto? And I mean lets just talk about how amazing my leg muscles will be from squatting over a hole to pee! When will be the next chance I get to shower with 3 inch cockroaches and name them instead of killing them (because I don’t want to kill my shower friends)? In the end I am in Rwanda and what makes it so beautiful is that it is not America. So here I am just a girl living it up in Africa, actually experiencing culture shock but I’m having the time of my life so here’s to gap year!!!!
I ask that you read this blog with an open heart, know that these are my experiences and my opinions. I am sure that a majority of you may not even know the information I’m about to say and that’s ok. Ignorance is bliss. But is it really? The definition of ignorance is lacking knowledge. Why would anyone want to lack knowledge? What can be gained from not knowing? Two and a half weeks ago I would have told you that ignorance really is bliss but then I spent time in Palestine (which side note I had no idea where it was when I got on the plane, I was just blindly flying somewhere, knowing I would end up in Palestine wherever the heck that was). I think part of ignorance comes from the fact that you are ignorant about being ignorant. Trippy, right, think about that one. Any who these last two weeks have shown me that very little difference can be made in the world if you are ignorant. Coming into this semester I knew pretty much nothing about the Middle East portion. I knew I was going to be learning about the Israel—Palestine conflict, but why there was conflict was beyond me. I had heard that the West Bank was really scary and that you shouldn’t go there but I never stopped to ask why the West Bank was scary. I knew we should be praying for Israel but why?? The night before I left Eric sat next to me at dinner asking how much I knew about where I was going. I told him that we were going to see where baby Jesus was born and beyond that I couldn’t. He about had a heart attack but hey remember ignorance is bliss. I think the biggest thing I have taken away so far from this semester is that I never want to settle for mediocrity when I could know information that could make a differnce. Even in the only difference I am making is educating. OK so the whole West Bank, Israel, Palestine thing sadly can’t be answered in a short complete answer but I am going to try my best to explain what I have learned. For starters in the bible it says that Israel is the promised land for the Jews which is why there is a large majority of people that think the conflict is purely a religious issue, but sadly it is much more complicated than that. In 1948, the great tragedy or more commonly known as the Nakba happened. The Nakba is when Israeli soldiers came into Palestine, and being the phenomenal host that the Arab’s are they welcomed in the soldiers into their homes; 2 weeks later the soldiers kicked the Palestinians out of there homes and some of them haven’t returned since. This is where I start to get a little fuzzy on what happened. I know between then and now there have been two intifada’s, which I think the best way to describe is uprisings against the Israeli occupation. The first one was nonviolent where as the second one turned more violent in hopes that change would occur. After that is when the West Bank was first started divided up into 3 areas: A, B, & C. Area A is under all Palestinian control, meaning it is Palestinian under all Palestinian control—security and civil. Area B is under Palestinian civil control, meaning the government but under Israeli military control. And Area C is under all Israeli control—civil and security. Area C is the largest area, making up about 67% of the West Bank. It has been zone ‘agriculture land’ by the Israeli government meaning that nothing can be built on the land by a Palestinian without out a permit—which is about next to impossible to receive and it is also not uncommon for a Palestinian home to be destroyed because it was built without a permit. In 2002, after the second intifada an 8 meter wall was constructed around the West Bank to protect the Israelis from the Palestinians. The wall, however, instead of following the green line of the West Bank borders cuts drastically into the territory know as the West Bank. The wall is about twice as long as the actual border of Palestine because it snakes and curves so much to give Israel the maximum land possible. Along with taking more land, the wall cuts out the main aquifers for the Palestinians so they now have to purchase water from the Israelis even though technically the water is on Palestinian land. About 85% of the water in the land goes to the Israelis and the other 15% is purchased by Palestinians; although, it is quite common for families to run out of water during the month. There are large black barrels on the roofs of homes to store and recycle water. Along with running out of water there are times when Israelis will just turn off the water leaving Palestinians without out water for sometimes weeks at a time. And this is just a fraction of the hardships of living in the West Bank. I spent 3 weeks living in Bethlehem and I can only imagine what it would be like all the time. Fear is a common emotion in this region. Palestinians are afraid of Settlers (a Jewish person who lives in a settlement which is technically illegal under international law decided on during Oslo) and Settlers are afraid of Palestinians. I’m not going to sit here and discount someone’s fears because it is not up to me to decide what they are afraid of. But I am going to say a lot of the fear comes from lack of knowledge. I met with this super awesome settler named Hanan, he worked with this organization called Roots. Roots is a place for people to share their stories, they also have a photo club for kids and other community engagement activities. The neatest thing about Roots is that is an organization that brings Palestinian refugees and Jewish settlers together to work as one. Hanan was telling us how he did not meet a Palestinian until the age of 30. How crazy?! He lived in the same country, 15 minutes from a Palestinian neighborhood and had never met them before. It is pretty hard to be afraid of someone when you know their name and have heard their story. How can you be afraid of Murad when you know that his family was kicked out of their home during the Nakba? How can you say that all Palestinians are scary when George and Natalie invited me into their home for three nights and were some of the greatest hosts? While fear is a common emotion there is also so much acceptance. I felt so accepted by every person I met. It didn’t matter if I was American or Arab, Christian or Muslim, tall or short—I was welcomed. We had a meeting with a Imam at one of the Mosques and were just about to bounce ideas around and talk about our different ideas on what following Jesus looks like. We came to the conclusion that loving Jesus and others is probably if not the most important thing that we can do. But how crazy to be sitting in a mosque having this conversation and feeling safe and welcomed the whole time. The Imam ended our time together saying “I love you because you were created by God.”
The world is a crazy, big place with honestly a lot of hurt and fear but it is also FULL of love and acceptance. So go be that love and acceptance today!!! Xoxo Amy **Disclaimer** I’m going to try my best to avoid politics try not too offend yall but there is A LOT (also I am no where near CLOSE to understanding what is happening between Palestine and Israel and who else is involved.) I have been in Palestine for 5 days now and I think by far today has been my favorite. Today we went to Aida Refugee Camp. There are currently 6000 Palestinians living there. They were kicked out of the homes in 1948 when the first Nakba happened. They were told they would be able to return to their homes but 70 years later they are still living with the hope of someday being able to return. Today in the camp we volunteered at Alrowwad, a cultural center for the arts. It’s a really cool thing. It’s basically a place for the kids to come and express themselves. We got there and they started breaking us into groups, one of the options was the photography. I really wasn’t sure what all photography included, especially because it was said through a thick Arabic accent, but I was all over that idea. We got up to the photo room and were greeted by 7 smiling kids. They were so excited to see people from America, of the 7 only 2 spoke some broken English. We all took turns introducing ourselves. Their names pretty much went in, I tried to repeat them, and right out the other ear. (side note, I really want to learn Arabic, so if any of yall know, please teach me!!!!) We passed out the cameras, grouped up and headed out into the camp to take pictures. It was honestly one of the neatest things. Even though we didn’t share a language we could still communicate through photography. I did a lot of miming and pointing today but we were all able to get along well enough. Another highlight from the day was seeing the kids’ faces light up when I let them use my camera. Alright, I don’t know really know what else to say so I’m going to let these pictures speak for themselves. They are a compilation of what I took & the ones the kids took while using my camera. Hope y’all were able to get at least an inkling of the joy I hade while I was with these kids!!
—Amy Well I guess that I can no longer be in denial that my semester in Denver is over, considering I am writing this blog post from 30,000 feet—watching the city the I grew to love over the last 4 months grow smaller and smaller below me. If you would have told me in August how fast this semester would go, I’m pretty sure I would have actually laughed in your face. But hey I was wrong IT FLEW BY. Now I am an hour and 7 minutes from landing in KC—I’m not sure what emotions I would use to describe how I’m feeling!! I am so ready to see my family and my puppies and my horse and my friends. I’m so incredibly excited to travel internationally come January but at the same time there is still part of my heart in Denver. Knowing that what became my normal there will never be again. I think the easiest way to sum this up is going to be in a list so here we go. THANK YOU DENVER . . .
Denver its been real. I’ll catch yah in May.
And to all yall amazing people who graciously take time to read my blog ,THANK YOU! This is the last post domestically. Catch yall in the Middle East in 4 weeks, until then keep doing you and know that you are so loved! Merry Christmas!! Xoxo Amy As the days are winding down here I think I’m still in shock that it is truly over. How have I been living in the rad city of Denver for 4 months now? How is it possible that in exactly 7 days I will be laying on my couch with my puppers? How is it possible that I will never call 1453 N. Downing Street home again? How is it possible that the 8 strangers I met four months ago will never be my roommates again? I think denial would be a better word to describe how I’m feeling. I’m a firm believer that If you don’t think about it, it won’t happen. Probably not the healthiest of mindsets but it’s where I’m at right now. I’m lying in bed writing this, I should be getting ready for dinner, but here I am writing. We are headed to get sushi as a house for a last group dinner, just another of the many last in the week to come. I am at a place of bittersweetness, happy because it happened, sad that it’s over. Today I wandered around downtown with my camera just wanting to take in all in, but also kicking myself for waiting until the last week to get out and take pictures. I think I’m trying to cram as much sentimental stuff into this last week. It’s funny though because I’m going to college in DENVER, so I’m going to back but I still feel like I’m leaving part of my heart here that I won’t get back. I think it’s just the thought that I will never be in the city with these people again. Next year it will be different, I have found my place of comfort now, but will have to find a different and new place of comfort next year when I’m back. While my thoughts are so consumed by the end of my time here I also find myself lingering back to the first class we had in the city. I think it still has to be my favorite class from the whole semester. We met with Millie in Cheesman Park. I can’t remember what we talked about for the first part of the class but I remember her telling us to take our journals and walk until we felt God telling us to stop. Once we sat down where God led us, we were to journal what we saw around us. I decided to focus on a flowerbed filled with rose bushes. I probably stared at those roses for 15 minutes, writing and thinking as the time went by. Some of the words that I wrote were: freeing, creation of God, alone, me, abundant, planned, bright, joyful, not concerned with others, white noise, and innovation. Why I wrote those words, I couldn’t tell you but its what came to me in those moments of stillness as I sat there. When it was time to rejoin the group, Millie told us we were going to share our words with the group—this brought about some anxious thoughts thinking we did the exercise wrong, but little did we know it all would work out. While we read the words aloud, the rest of the group wrote down on a note card a few words that stuck with them as we spoke. What Millie quickly told us was the words that the others were writing down was actually how God views us. I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped, while I was journaling I had this feeling of self doubt creep in, here is a rose bush with all the qualities that I see in it, I just wish that I had at least some of these qualities. So to hear Millie say that this is how God viewed me and then to hear everyone read the words that stuck out to them of how they viewed me was something that I can’t begin to explain.
It was a strange feeling, hearing these practically strangers read what they thought about me; however, it was, for a lack of a better word, neat to hear what they said about me. It almost gave me this feeling of hope. Self-doubt is something from the devil, which for the most part, everyone has to deal with; although, it isn’t something you have to deal with forever. With the redemptive love of the Lord self-doubt is something that you can overcome. I am thankful that class with Millie was on of the first ones in the city because I have been able to carry that feeling of hope with me the whole semester. Although, now that feeling of hope has started to turn into a feeling of belief. So now here I sit with my sushi food-baby wondering what the next semester will be like? What it will be like to live in a completely different time zone than my friends and family? Have I actually grown this semester? What I’ve learned about myself? But the longer I sit here the more I realize the same little voice of self-doubt is trying to slither its way back in and I just have to remind myself to keep clinging to the Lord. I guess when I wake up tomorrow I will only have 6 days left in the same house with the group of best people ever. But hey these are going to be the best 6 days!! Ok this is 4th start to this blog post… I have no idea where to go with this. I really just want to write ‘LIFE SUCKS!!!’ and leave it at that because I cant really how articulate how I’m feeling, but that wouldn’t be fair to y’all and life doesn’t fully suck. The last 4 weeks in the house haven’t been the greatest. We went from a honeymoon phase to a bomb going off in about 2 seconds. There is honestly no one way a finger can be pointed; it was a compilation of many things that made it all blow up. But wow it was hard. I think part of the reason it was so hard was because it was raw emotions. We no longer were just roommates, we had now seen the ugly, vulnerable side of each other. We weren’t as pretty to each other any more. All of our crap was now out in the open. Through all of this all though I have learned things about myself that I didn’t even know I needed to learn. Which I guess it good but also kinda sucks because it’s hard. No one wants to be told the things about themselves that they need to work on. For instance, I typically hold onto resentment towards people. Not though because they messed up but more so because they made things ‘messy’ and it screwed up how my ‘ducks were in a line.’ I have learned that, though I’ve never recognized it until now, I like my life to me neat, I am more of a control freak than I let on. I want things to go my way. I also hide from conflict, like physically hide. See told you, not fun stuff to learn about yourself, but very very vital to learn. Because if you don’t learn it, how can you ever grow. I can gladly say the house has gotten SO SO SO much better. We are continuing to grow in ourselves and with each other. Sorry for the vagueness about it all but it’s for the best. I’m sure you just finished reading those last two paragraphs and are now wondering to yourself why those last two paragraphs warrant me with starting the blog with LIFE SUCKS. Well don’t you worry there is more, lol. So my house finally is getting better. And now my students’ lives are going to crap. Human services showed up yesterday to talk to one girl and her stepbrother. That same girl and her mom got kicked out of their house. Social Services is now getting involved. I overheard the word ‘foster care’ being thrown around as the counselor was talking to my teacher. She may have to transfer schools. She is not acting like her typical self. I mean I can’t blame the kid. I have two other kids that haven’t paid their tuition in about a month. The grandma talked with the school and they have a plan in place for the next month to start paying it (this conversation only happened after the grandma decided that withdrawing the students maybe wasn’t the best idea); however, if she doesn’t follow the plan (which sadly is lowkey likely), the two kids aren’t going to be able to come to the school anymore. Like why do kids have to suffer because of crappy adults??? (the super cool thing about my school is that tuition is not a fixed rate. It is based off of what each family can pay—so if that means a family can only pay $4 then that’s all their tuition is). I have another kid that couldn’t make it the two blocks to school yesterday because his mom was too messed up on drugs. And when mom isn’t messed up she can’t get him to school on time. My teacher and I literally banged our heads on wall today. We are two 23 and 19 year, basically kids, from white suburbia—this is soo not what we grew up around. But at the same time, we are here for a reason and I just have to cling to that fact. All I can do is love them and love them is what I’ll do. As I was walking to the coffee shop (shocker, right?!) to write this blog, I kept thinking of the verse in 2 Corinthians 4 that says “we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed….” I think that verse pretty much sums up how I’m feeling right now. My heart physically hurts. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain these kids see each day. They are 8 years old for crying out loud, they should be worrying about how much Halloween candy they have left, not if mom is going to be sober in the morning!!!!! But if I can be a light of love to them while they are at school then you can bet your hiney I will be that light. We are called to do everything with love {side note that is the meaning behind my blog name—which also happens to be the short meaning of my tattoo} So that is why I wanted to say LIFE SUCKS. But it doesn’t really, its just hard and ugly and raw and complex, but I guess it can also be beautiful and full of life and love. So while it’s hard I’m learning and growing and making a difference so I guess that’s what really counts. I would much rather have some pretty rough days but still be able to make a difference than it be smooth sailing and not make an impact. I do ask though that you keep my precious 3rd graders in your prayers!!! ps. to end on a happy note, I got my East African Visa. Catch me in Africa in THREE MONTHS!!!!!
Ok so a little background on this post: it was my application essay for Regis University so it is on the more formal side of things (no slang mom!!), but I feel like it shares a lot of insight on my life here in Denver over the past 3ish months so I thought I’d share it with y’all. I also mention Colfax Ave towards the end of this post, Colfax is supposedly the ‘the longest, wickedest street in America,” according to Playboy—stretching 26 miles. Colfax also happens to be where my humble little abode lies. Colfax is pretty rad, there is never any way to expect what you’ll see next—a fight, a homeless man, any sort of vehicle with blaring sirens, but you’ll also find some pretty great hole in the wall restaurants and see people greeting you with a smile as you pass. As Denver has changed and progressed with time Colfax has sort of resisted change and stayed true to who it is. I always laugh when talking to people that used to live in Denver and they tell me to avoid Colfax, I mean yeah I’m not going to walk down Colfax at 10:30pm alone, but why would I do that anywhere. Colfax is just Colfax and you got to love it for who it is [plus Chick fil A is on Colfax]. Judgments, misconceptions, or preconceptions: three different words for practically the same thing. While not always a bad thing, often times these judgments, misconceptions or preconceptions of others guide our life, so no matter whom we meet or where, we make a judgment based on our own experiences. A preconception is defined as a preconceived idea, typically formed without any background knowledge of the person. In this case the way we view someone often comes from a preconceived idea and not who the person truly is. Where do these preconceived ideas come from? The environment we grew up in is a major factor to the way we view others around us. If every person carries previous judgments about others with him or her, how does the cycle of judging people end? First, it starts within each person to realize they need to shift the lens they are using to view people. Once a person recognizes all people have a ‘story’, the way they view others is vastly different. A person’s ‘story’ can be hidden by shame, but it is that story that makes the person who they are. People hide their stories because they can be dirty and ugly and people do not want others to see them by their past stories. However, understanding that each person’s story is what helped shape him or her to who they now are can help break the cycle of judging. I recently moved to Downtown Denver. I grew up in the suburb so living in downtown is different than suburbia Kansas City. My first few weeks here, I will admit I was apprehensive of homeless people. It was so far from what I knew and considered normal. The environment of my hometown is what most people would consider an affluent bubble, and many do not want to be seen as hurting, therefore, people will put up facades to hide their stories. Pain and brokenness is not often seen in my hometown, but it’s still there. In downtown Denver pain and brokenness can be seen in the eyes of the homeless on nearly every street corner; although, a simple ‘Hello’ typically allows joy to shine past the pain in their eyes. Prior to moving to Denver, I had this preconception that all homeless people were cantankerous. Ignorance is the primary factor to the reason I believed this, but also the environment of my hometown did not expose me to the climate of homelessness so I had no prior knowledge. I can gladly say I was completely wrong; yes there are some people whose pain is so deep a simple hello does not bring a sparkle to their eye, but the majority of homeless people I pass on the streets light up at a chance of conversation. By moving to a new city and shifting the environment I lived in it opened my eyes the preconceptions I carried and shattered them. Because these misconceptions were shattered; I now look forward to passing the homeless on the way to the bus stop. Getting to see their smile when I asked them about their day just put a bigger smile on my face. However, I had been living in the city for a little over a month before I realized my preconceptions had be shattered. One day I was walking down Colfax Avenue on the phone with my mom, I passed a homeless man who smiled at me and said hello, our conversation went a little like this: “Hi, how are you today?” I responded, “I’m good, kind of stinks s raining. How are you?” “I’m good, just trying to stay dry!” he said. “I get that, have a good rest of your day.” “Thanks you, too,” he said. After passing him, my mom asked whom I was talking to because she overheard the conversation through my phone. I told her it was one of the homeless men that lived near me. Her response was, “They are nice, like that?” In that moment all my past judgments of homeless people hit me like a freight train. I was shocked my mom would ask that; however, if the situation had been flipped and I were still living in suburbia Kansas City—I am sure I would have responded the same way. Living in the city has shown me that everyone has a story, it is the lens we use to view people that allow us to see him or her without judgment. There are times when it would be much easier to continue to view people with the preconceived ideas we have about them rather than getting to know them. Until we get to know the stories of those around us, the cycle of judging won’t be broken. I challenge yall to take a step back and self-evulate what lenses you are using to look at people with.
--Amy |
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