my sad is

Really good days are those when I am attentive enough to appreciate the mystery of the people around me. Part of my current job is picking up eight high school newcomers from the high school and driving them five blocks to the middle school, where the newcomers program is based, and then driving them back. I don't teach them, so our contact is pretty minimal. Our conversations are basic, with their limited English and my efforts to avoid speaking purely in Spanish with most of them (to push them to learn English, and to not exclude those who aren't Spanish-speaking). But they are a cheery bunch and we usually manage to have positive interactions. One day this week I loaded up the girls and as we started moving, I asked them how they were. Some didn't catch the question; somebody said "fine" from the back of the van. "Are you happy?" I asked emphatically. I got some nods, and a couple of smiles. One of the girls raised her hand. "I am sad." "Sad? Why? Did something happen?" I asked in English before slipping into Spanish to make sure she understood. "¿Algo pasó?" "No. My sad is my brother." Her brother still lives in Guatemala, so she hasn't seem him for several months. Then another girl chirped up from the back. "My sad is Guatemala." Then another voice joined in--"My sad is my grandma." I didn't quite know how to respond, so I taught them to say, "I miss..." But somehow their attempt to speak with incorrect English seemed to convey their feelings better. I am thankful for the simple honesty with which those girls expressed deep and painful truths. I pray that we can all speak our sadness--and our happiness--and be a support for one another each and every day.

white girl

I recently started a new job, taking the place of a teacher's aid on maternity leave.  I help with the Schuyler Middle School's newcomers program, a classroom full of 6th-8th graders who have come from abroad and are learning English to transition into the regular classroom.

I love it so far, and am getting to know students from across Latin America--Guatemala, Mexico, Cuba--and from around the world with a student from Hong Kong and two families from Ethiopia.  Yes, Schuyler, Nebraska is becoming quite a modern-day melting pot.

We push our students to speak in English as much as possible, but now that the Spanish-speakers know I speak their language, they often opt for that route.  I was teasing one of our Ethiopian students that he's going to finish school speaking both English and Spanish, and he said, "Si."

We've also had a few moments to get to know each other a little better, while they work on projects or have a little down town in between classes.  A conversation this week reminded me that the difficult reality of immigration is never too far beneath the surface.  It was with one of our Mexican students, when he realized that I'm a "white girl."

"Where are you from?" he asked me, in Spanish.
"Not from Schuyler, but close to here," I replied, assuming "Dodge" would mean nothing to him.
"But in the United States?"
"Yeah."
"Were you born here?" he continued.
"Yes."
"Oh, so you have papers."
Of course I do, I thought, and told him so, almost as if he were joking.  But he wasn't.
"So where are you parents from?"
"Here.  They were born here too."
"And your grandparents?"
"Also from here."
"Oh, so you're a güera (white girl), no offense."
"Yeah," I conceded.  I am a white girl.
"Ohh.  So what kind of music do you like?"

This is just one snippet that gives a bit of insight from his perspective.  Unfortunately living without papers is a reality lived by many in Schuyler, even many students, which is why we must keep pushing for a more just and effective system of laws opening our country to immigrants and welcoming those who are here.  

I am excited, because I will be filling this position until the end of the school year, which will give me a chance to build more solid relationships with the students.  And at any rate, the newcomers classroom will be a good transitional step into the program in Intercultural Ministry that I'll be starting in the fall!

...are you hispanic?

Shout out to my mom, Joan, for suggesting I tell the following story on my blog.

One of the special highlights of substitute teaching for me is that the two schools where I´m teaching both have significant Latin American immigrant populations, which sometimes gives me the opportunity to speak Spanish and always gives me the opportunity to gain insight into the lives of immigrant children in rural Nebraska.  And, sometimes, it just gives me a little laugh.

I recently substitute taught for the Spanish teacher at an Elementary school.  Ironically, all students take Spanish at this school, even if they are Spanish-speaking.  So although I was only teaching basics, as I moved from class to class many of the students could tell by the way I pronounced the words that I actually knew Spanish.  That was definitely the case as I started class with the 5th graders, and two students toward the back were whispering back and forth even as I began the lesson.

"Eyes up here and mouths closed, please," I stated firmly without losing my place in the lesson.  The whispering boy raised his hand.

"Do you have a question?" I asked him skeptically.  Satisfied, he lowered his hand and pointed to his friend.

"She wants to know if you're Hispanic."

I smiled, flattered.  I was often tempted to tell students I was Peruvian, but when the words came out I always ended up telling the truth.  So I explained that no, I am not Hispanic, but that I do speak pretty good Spanish because I lived in Peru.  From somewhere in the room I heard someone whisper, "See, I told you!"

We continued with the lesson, though classes with Spanish-speaking students are always more energy-charged once they know I know.

And that makes it all the more fun!

Merry Christmas from my family!

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on pilgrimage

I've heard it said that saints make saints.  Some proof of that is that four of the most popular Peruvian saints, St. Turibius, St. John Macías, St. Martin de Porres, and St. Rose of Lima all lived during the same time and knew each other.   I imagine they inspired each other, and empowered each other to live authentic lives for God.

Of course, it's just another way of saying being around great people helps to make you a better person, if you aren't interested in sainthood.  I am so blessed to be surrounded by many great people--that is, people striving for greatness.  I'm sure they wouldn't want to be categorized as "great" :).  Though to their credit, I recently heard that the idea that accomplishments and intelligence make greatness is kind of a Western idea, and many Eastern cultures place more merit in the struggling itself.  So, I suppose simply striving to be great people makes them great people, and that's why I am so grateful for them!

One of those people who is particularly present with me right now is my little brother Jeff, who just reminded me in his blog not to bound myself by limits.  It's a difficult thing in a culture where the "path to success" is often a bit cookie-cutter.  And it's a particular struggle for me now as I am on the brink of a life-defining step!  (ironically, isn't every step we take life-defining?)

It just started snowing again outside the window of this coffee shop in downtown Minneapolis, and there's something you can't beat about the coziness of watching it snow outside while you are toasty warm inside!  I'm here for several reasons, which could be stated pretty simply or honestly.

Stated simply, I'm here to visit a couple of graduate schools.

Stated honestly, I'm here to be attentive to the movements deep in my soul as I contemplate the next step, and I'm here to do it in the company of one of my soul mates, another of those great people in my life.  That would be Kelli,  my two-year housemate and roommate in Peru, who I haven't seen since we parted ways in the Houston airport on July 31st, and whose influence on me must not be understated!

So I thank you for your prayers/positive vibes directed my way on this vocational journey!  And thanks for being great people!  You can be sure I will be sending up prayers and emitting all the positive vibes I can so that all of us can progress together toward a world community driven by love for all our brothers and sisters.   Peace!

toes on cold cement

There are about three places in the world where time truly stands still, where the past and the future cease to exist and all that matters is the present.  One of those is under a tree outside my host family´s house in the mountains of the Dominican Republic, one is on and around the sand dune just outside Chimbote on Avenida Perú, and the other, the place I currently resort to, is on the front porch of my parents' house.

My parents' house faces east, so on a fall morning the crisp air is warmed by the rising sun.  It's a sensation I truly appreciate after living in Chimbote, where sunshine equals burning, and "winter" basically means cloudy.  Fall and winter are much less bearable without sunshine, but here we get the best of both worlds.

Anyway, it is a very grounding place, perfect for drinking morning coffee and imaging God's face smiling at me, as Sr. Dorothy has recommended I do.  As of this week I have begun to feel the anguish of having to choose a future as I realize that grad school apps are due in a mere couple of months.  That means battling questions like, "How will this program help you to achieve your personal and professional goals?"  A difficult question when I don't know what those goals are!  Though thanks to my good professor C-los, I am realizing that the answers are already within me, I just have to listen closely.  Still, it's one thing to be internally aware of them, and another to put them down on paper.

But I will not be intimidated, because as I was reminded yesterday by the first reading, I am not alone!  This verse showed up at the perfect time.  So perfect, that I used it again today to add a drawing inspired by the landscape I see every morning, opening to reveal the right path.  And that's what I will leave you with!  May it be a message for us all, especially those of us in the midst of difficult decisions (which, actually, is probably everybody)!

"Ya estoy enviando a mi Ángel delante de ti para que te proteja en el viaje, hasta indroducirte en el lugar que te he preparado.  Anda derecho en su presencia y hazle caso: no le seas rebelde." -Éxodo 23, 20-21a

The color quality isn't great since I used colored pencils,
but I'm not trying to be a famous artist :)

"See, I am sending an angel before you, to guard you on the way and bring you to the place I have prepared.  Be attentive to him and heed his voice.  Do not rebel against him." -Exodus 23: 20-21a

wait--i´m not going to see them tomorrow?

I have been home in Nebraska for one month now.  At times it feels just like it has my whole life -- like my house -- and at moments that feeling will suddenly disappear when I see a picture of people in Chimbote, or think about what I would be doing if I were still there, or get a crazy urge to hear Alejandro sing, "Procuro Olvidarte" as he does (almost) every Sunday at theater rehearsal or to play a "dinámica," or Peruvian ice-breaker game.  In those moments I become acutely aware that "home" is no longer defined by one place, and the feeling of being home will never be fully satisfied neither here nor there.

Of course, it´s not exactly a new concept for me.  In many ways, I went through similar transition pains after returning from a semester in the Dominican Republic,  but that time was also very different.  While I did come to love my host families in the Dominican Republic very much, and missed them painfully, in those four months I never quite just became somebody´s "neighbor."  Yes, in Chimbote I was always the "misionera" or the "gringa" for most strangers, but for many people I was also just Emily.  After two years I was really just beginning to feel totally comfortable being me, in a totally different culture and language.  

And then suddenly Kelli and I were sitting on a bench outside the San Antonio airport waiting for a ride to take us back to the world of air-conditioned meetings and ready-made food.  Occasionally I have heard it said as, "back to the real world," which is perhaps how it seems to those who haven´t known anything else.  But quite honestly, since being home I haven´t felt further from the real world, and have felt much more like I´m walking through a dream world than I ever did in Chimbote.

Complement this dream-like state with a series of really happy hellos and really sad goodbyes as my siblings come and go -- home to California, off to college in Ohio, or into religious formation in Peru -- plus recognizing that to be happy I need to seek life-giving activities here (about to start substitute teaching and likely volunteering in youth ministry in a nearby parish)... and we start to get a somewhat accurate, yet still very incomplete, idea of the past month.

In many ways I think I haven´t even realized yet that nowhere in my near future are spontaneous trips to the beach, theater rehearsals, English conversation nights, community lunches, arguing matches with the cats, intense parish volleyball games, walks home with the kids from LENTCH, delicious late-night street foods, etc., etc., etc....

But that´s okay, because the real blessing is having so many people in Chimbote who will continue to be a part of my life, and discovering the ways that God will continue to use me and teach me through the people who now surround me.  

So I do ask you to pray for me in this transition, not for my own sake but for the sake of unity, of family, of sharing and of understanding.  So I can continue to move and be moved towards building God´s kingdom in this country I have come home to, a country very divided, so that we can all enjoy a world where cooperation and respect for one another is primary. 

Thanks for reading.  Hasta pronto!  Peace.