And then I'll be okay.

At my internship, I work with a woman who is in her 60s and has been trying to sell her house for the past 8 months all so she can move in with her husband who took a job 4 hours away. It has been quite the journey to witness as there were issues with the piping system in the house which caused thousands of extra dollars, a mentally handicapped child, and unexpected circumstance happening in the office. It has led her to a stressful and unpredictable time in life. She has been traveling with her daughter to see her husband who is renting a pop-up camper until they can sell their old house and buy a new one every weekend, along with additional trips as she tries to find a job in the new area. I have witnessed someone who has a lot of life under her belt go through an incredibly difficult transition.

As a current grad student graduating in May, trying to figure out a career, licensure, living situations, relationships, buying furniture, up-keeping a car, and trying to integrate credit card bills, phone bills, medical bills, and car insurance, I’m overwhelmed. Oh yea, and the normal day-to-day demands of being a full-time student and graduate assistant while working 20 hours a week in the school district. This past week my sleep was compensated for hours and hours of worrying about getting data for my thesis. All the pressure—pressure from the self to perform and to succeed.

But then I think, ‘haven’t I always felt this way about life?’ At any given point in my life, whether it be in middle school, high school, or college, there have always been things drowning me in worry about the next step of life.  It never ends. At any given point in life I have always said:

"Once I get through this exam”,

"Once I get through this depression”,

"Once I move out of the house”,

"Once I am in a relationship”,

"Once I get my degree”,

"Once I get a job”,

"Once I own a home,”

"Once I have children”,

"Once I get paid”….THEN, I’ll be okay. But until all that happens, I will just have to suffer and wallow my way in misery until ALLLLL that happens. Because all that needs to happen for me to be okay.

As a look at the woman I work with and all the transition that is happening for her in her 60s, I have to face that this is life. The good and bad, the worry and reward, all encompasses real life. With all its ups and downs. Just when one phase is done, the next is coming. This is a daunting thought if our definition of “real life” is only the up and coming, forward motions, success, promotions, and awards. Maybe, just maybe, life isn't about looking to the future as much as it is living in the present, even the unpleasant and mundane. Because life does stop, and at some point thinking in the future will get us nowhere but the ground.

I believe life happens today. Moment by moment. And our being “okay” does not hinge on the happening of favorable circumstances. We can choose to truly live with joy and passion in whatever phase of life we’re in, regardless of any circumstance.

"The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's 'own' or 'real' life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life--the life God is sending one day by day." -CS Lewis

Our Failure to Love

I’m a quote reader. I read several apps of daily quotes from various individuals, I write my own weekly quotes, and I even have an ongoing document of all of my favorites. Over 30 pages.  All that to say, I breathe in and breathe out words. But I have been particularly moved by these:

Every sin is a result of a failure to love.

-St. Augustine.

I’ve been moved by this idea of loving one’s neighbor since I left Uganda just short of a year ago. Uganda showed me that changing the world was through small acts of love and kindness in community, not necessarily large-scale revivals. I’ve become more convinced of this since retuning to the United States.

My first thought when reading this quote was, “Well, is it every sin? And what do you define as sin? Doesn’t that depend on worldview? And failure? How do you define that?” As I dissected and dissected the combination of these few words, I had to catch myself.  Why do I resort to this legalism? Just stop. Take it for what it is. Okay. So when I think about the “sins” or “wrong-doings” I have either committed in my heart or in action, they are rooted in my shortcoming to love either another person or myself, sometimes both.

I humbly admit that being in a relationship tends to draw this awareness out in a way that feels like nails on a chalkboard. At no other time in my life have I been so aware of how my selfishness, lack of love, has infiltrated another human being. By me not stepping into his shoes and seeing his perspective, I fail to love him for who he is at that very moment.

When a young woman chooses to harm herself by cutting and making herself throw up, she is failing to love herself, in spite of what may have happened to her in the past. When the father of four repeatedly chooses drunkenness (mindlessness) over talking out the problems he has with his wife, he is failing to love his family. When the high school student walks in a school and takes the lives of his fellow classmates, he is failing to love his community. When a group of people decide they are god by murdering thousands of people in another country, they are failing to love their world.  And when the person gets upset and reacts in violence against the man that took away his family, he is committing the same audacity that was bestowed upon himself, failing to love another human being.

I am not proposing we sit back and be “okay” with wrongdoing, I think that’s quite the opposite.  But please don’t forget that hate doesn’t cast out hate, love does that. I used to think that only the gentle, kindhearted, sweet old ladies could be good at loving. What about the strong-willed, opinionated, passionately driven young woman over here? The truth is that my expression of love just looks a little different from theirs. And that's okay. I have to ask myself, "What does loving look like for a healthy Ali?"

This is by far the most difficult task of our time: to replace hate with love. It’s not easy because we must put the other in front of the self, acting against our innate desire to get what we want. I know this personally, as someone who battles selfishness, bitterness, and hate. But I really do believe that in the end we will want to look back at our lives as being a person who was incredibly daring to love the other at any cost.

Ferguson: The Iceberg Effect

I am white. And I preface that because I acknowledge my lack of understanding in the deep-hurt about how white privilege has oppressed other racially diverse groups. I am 22-years young, grew up in a Northern State, and was not around to understand the actions that took place during the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. But I acknowledge my ancestors were (because they were white too), and participated in oppressing physically, mentally, and spiritually the African American population. And for that I am deeply sorry. I have grieved and even wept over this.

I wanted to write this as a response to the Ferguson case but also as someone who is passionate about racial justice….and human beings. Let me also preface that I am not an expert in the justice system, sociology, or even racism. But I can assure you I try. And that I care.  I also don’t know the ins and outs of the Ferguson case as it relates to autopsies, testimonies, and witnesses. Frankly, in my opinion, that doesn’t have much importance to me. You will not find me discussing the intricate details about the event that happened that night. I will also say that I don’t agree with the rioting and violence taking place because of this case. In no way am I okay with this. But I also have to ask the question, “have we created space for an alternative option?” and does this apply to racially diverse groups?

The way I see this case is as an iceberg illustration. What we see on the surface (one case where a white man shot a black man) is minute in comparison so what’s underneath. Underneath this iceberg you will see hundreds of years of discrimination in virtually every category: education, health, housing, employment, criminal justice, poverty. I don’t believe this is a “stand-alone” case, but rather an expression (or reaction) to oppression. Again, like I stated earlier, I don’t agree with the violence, but we must ask if we have created any other way. And if we have created another way, why aren’t people acting in that way and how can we implement that?

I have a problem with people saying, “this case isn’t about race” and “blacks kill blacks and whites kill whites and no one does anything”. Excuse me for my bluntness in saying this, but that is ignorance. Ignorance I also see as being blind. Blind to the fact that our society is full of discrimination and oppression against groups other than white. I agree, that bottom line someone died in the Ferguson case that may or may not have been a threat to the officer. Regardless, if you fail to acknowledge the racial piece of this case, you are performing an injustice against the African American population.

We are presently in an age of what sociologists call “color-blindness”.  This means we have created a society that refuses to look at race as part of a person’s identity. Legislatively, this is seen in the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Affirmative Action policies following. We have outlawed discrimination based on race, ethnicity, gender, religion, etc. Phrases like, “We see all people the same” and “it doesn’t matter what race you are” are common phrases thrown around surrounding this “colorblind” idea. And please refrain from saying that “whites are being discriminated against now too in the college setting and workforce.” Please. Don’t confuse persecution with privilege. Those policies are in place because of non-white oppression. The reality is that our racial category has significant cultural components that uniquely shape who we are.  Instead of looking past our races, we should be acknowledging this in each other and talking about it as it partakes in our identity formation both within ourselves and in a group.  Our country has mistaken reconciliation with cooperation. We think that because African Americans aren’t in segregated institutions that discrimination and oppression don’t exist, but really we just aren’t talking about it. Our country has learned to cooperate with each other (African Americans and Caucasians), but is far from reconciliation.

I have followed the news enough to know that Officer Wilson has not been indicted by a grand jury. I think we should also be open to the perspective offered by the law enforcement agency. There is hurt on both sides, and the police officer’s life will be forever changed because of this case. Let us not forget to grieve for the officer’s life as well as the death of Michael Brown.

I believed this before the grand jury’s decision and I’ll stick with it now, regardless of his indictment, it is evident that we have work to do in our country with racial justice and need to open our minds and be empathetic towards peoples’ experiences. Just because I have not personally been the victim of racism, I am still able to empathize and try to understand that pain.

As heated as this case has gotten, and as painful as it has become for some, I thankful to have an opportunity to discuss racial issues in this country—something I think we have lacked in recent decades. I hope these conversations will educate minds, expand perspectives, soften hearts, and ultimately lead our country to a more unified nation—one to which we are all worthy of inhabiting.

Buckle Up

I have recently moved to a new place, far away from home, having never been here and knowing no one. It’s been a tough transition. I am doing a social work graduate program here, one that will take me one year. This program is challenging as it has a thesis required to be done in 10 months. I have asked myself everyday what I’m doing here—far away from home, friends, and opportunities. All for this degree that supposedly makes me look better in the world “out there”.  This is going to be an intense year of school and high expectations. I am in way over my head and desperate for strength beyond myself. I feel like a lunatic for trying to attempt something like this. I challenge my attendance to class, my ability to meet the requirements, and my purpose for being here…everyday. Did I mention I was way over my head?

So I was out for a run the other day, a way for me to get fresh air and take a break from an unbelievably challenging load of homework. I didn’t have a place to put my key so I decided, like any average girl on a run, to put my key in my sports bra. I didn’t think this was a bad idea, I’ve been doing it for years. It wasn’t a problem until the end of my run when I had realized that it wasn’t there anymore. Panicking, I pulled out my shirt and looked down and all around, I felt my shorts, shoes, and even hair to see if it was there…nothing. I stood outside my apartment complex for a minute and scolded myself. This was only my second night here, I don’t know anyone, I certainly didn’t know how to get back into my apartment, it’s getting dark, and I have my first day of class in the morning. Great. Fabulous. I love my life. After realizing my stupidity and beating myself up, I checked all over myself one more time just to make sure it wasn’t there and I set off to retrace my steps. A mile and a half might I say. I glued my eyes to the ground, scanning every which way and would ask people I was passing if they saw a key on the ground. Nothing. After about 30 minutes of looking and asking multiple people, it was time to call it quits because it was dark and there was no way I was going to find anything at this point. 

I had contacted my dad (what any girl would do in this desperate situation) and he was able to give me an emergency phone number to call for my apartment complex. As I was about to call this number, frantic, frazzled, and flustered (the 3 F’s), I heard a voice. I very soft, but audible voice inside my head. It was God. It’s happened before, nothing knew. I’m sure it happens more than I can recall because most of the time I’m not paying close enough attention to it. He just said “Ali. Trust me.” When I heard that I stopped. Right there in the midst of the 3 F’s. I took a deep breath and just said to myself okay. It’s alright. Okay. I called the emergency number and they were going to let me in for free the first time and then I could fill out a form for a new key in the morning. Okay. This is fine  I told myself. As I was walking back to my apartment complex that I had walked a mile and half to backtrack, I felt something in the center of my sports bra. You are not going to believe me but my key was right in front of my eyes, right where I had placed it from the start. And I’m telling you…It was not there before!  It wasn’t there before! 

As soon as I found I found my key I felt this sense of calm again.  Could it be that God was foreshadowing my upcoming year? Was it a coincidence that this happened the night before my first class? Could it be that he was bringing me to a place to trust him right then and there, to ultimately show me that I need to rely on him the whole year? Sounds like a yes, yes, and yes to me.

I have learned that we should not ask for tasks equal to our strength, but rather strength equal to our tasks. I can’t sit here and tell you that I still don’t feel like David in a battle against Goliath—because that is exactly how I feel. But what I can sit here and say is that until it is made clear to me that I am to pack up my bags and go home, I am going to fight my heart out this year, because in the end, it’s not about the degree or the thesis, it’s about the journey, and how we are transformed along the way. And when God says “yes” to something, you better buckle up and hold on, because it’s going to be a crazy ride.

Ali

Want To Change The World? love your neighbor.

I knew when I came to Africa I would learn many things. I also knew I would walk away from the experience a different person. But I had no idea what those things would be. I guessed I might learn better patience and listening, I would have a clear path in what I want to pursue, or maybe even some radical idea for alleviating global poverty (so naïve of me right?) But what I take away from this experience is worlds away from my initial thought.

We all want to be agents of global change. No one can deny that. Maybe this desire isn’t always conscious, but I believe everyone to the core of who they are wants to change the world, or at least agrees it needs to change. The way we are more often than not told how to do that is by packing our bags and moving to an indigenous people group, landing a position in the Peace Corps, or starting one’s own NGO. There seems to be such a chasm between our desire to see a global change and the options people give us to do so. How discouraging is that? And then for those who can actually attain such a status are put on pedestals and worshiped as idols. Both, completely wrong.

I just can’t believe that is all there is. So I am offering a different perspective (which you may find is actually more difficult), a very real way for you to make a difference in the world. My proposal is this: love your neighbor. Yep. That’s it. Just love your neighbor. And for those of you who ask “Who is my neighbor?”, I’ll answer by saying it’s the people who live next door to you.

If someone were to have said that to me a year ago I would have been disappointed because we all want grandeur adventures and experiences right? Or at least my generation. I would have thought I wouldn’t be living up to my full potential if I were to only love my neighbor. But that just it. our education tells us to “go out” with our knowledge, climb the ladder of success, and not look back to home. I believe we need to focus more energy on giving back to our community with our knowledge.

I have had several discussions with Ugandans who I greatly respect. We talk about poverty, specifically in the US. When I told them how we have a lot of poverty in the states they were astonished. They couldn’t believe America was anything but wealth. They would ask, “so the situation is very bad in your country?” I would tell them yes and then go on to explain the welfare and foster care system, homeless population and places where people who are poor can collect free food and clothing. Upon their initial reaction of being shocked, I was then faced with a dumbfounded, but very profound, question of “well why are you over here?” They’re right. Why do we feel like we need to go to Africa? Don’t get me wrong, I believe there is room for international work, but why aren’t we taking care of the ones at home?

The reason there are wars, genocides, exploitation, school shootings and knife stabbings, car bombings, issues of poverty, homelessness, loneliness (oh and the list goes on), is because we don’t love our neighbor. Stop blaming the government, particular people groups, or coincidence. Jesus really understood our situation when he gave the second greatest commandment to “Love your neighbor as yourself”. Not, go represent your country in peacekeeping. I truly truly believe all it takes is for us to make a difference in the world is to love our neighbors. Call me naïve or ignorant, maybe I am, but I challenge you to take this seriously. Just try it. And I also think there is creativity in how each person does that. It could be by allowing the neighbor kids to each lunch upon occasion, providing Band-Aids to the kids who scrap their knee, giving a ride to work the person whose car just broke down, offering a listening ear through good and bad times, and just opening up one’s home. It’s not difficult? How would you liked to be loved?

My dear dear friend in Uganda once told me, “There are no big tasks in the world, only very small ones.” Don’t be fooled that we need a huge revival and overthrow on the injustice systems in place.  It paralyzes us and then we become stagnant. Be moved by the fact that the world is occupied by broken, lonely people, searching for belonging. And the only remedy is love.

I flew across the globe to realize only small hands can complete large tasks. And only as people learning to love each other within community will life as we know it make a turn for the better.  As Margaret Mead says, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” And only in living in vulnerability with each other opens up the space where this true community can take place.

So go out. Chase your dreams and pursue worthy things. Listen to your heart. But remember that all it takes to make a difference is to love your neighbor as yourself

Uganda has rocked my world in ways I could have never conceived and I am excited to see the projectory to where this experience places me in the future.  Thank you for your prayers and support as I processed my experiences in writing. I hope my eyes to Uganda have been a tool to invite others into my experiences and lessons as well. This is the end of the beginning for me on this journey. And that is exactly what life is: a journey. Often times our path looks different than what we expect, taking twists and turns on unfamiliar paths, and more difficult than we expect, inflicting pain and fear in places we try and hide. I’ve also found sometimes experiences and people in our lives are only meant to be temporary, walking with us for a period of time, and that’s okay. It’s a journey of knowing ourselves, where we came from and how our own worldviews affect how we operate. It’s a journey of calling and the revelation of passion, gifts, and unique talents. But most of all, it’s a journey of transformation in our hearts to be a kind of people that unites beyond differences in order to do good in the world through love.  Thanks for allowing my path to cross with yours. Enjoy the journey. 

Ali

The smell of genocide

I would bargain most people wouldn't know what the smell to associate genocide with. I guess i didn't either until I smelled it. I was able to visit a church, now a memorial site, where 10,000 people were killed in the 1994 Rwandan genocide. They had sought out the church for safety in God's place of worship, but it seems as though God had left in the hours where those 10,000 terrified people were slaughtered. The church is filled with bullet holes, blood stained walls, and all the clothes still laying on the floor from the victims. As soon as I entered I imagined, just as a flashback, of the horror and fear that consumed that room 20 years ago from today. There was a distinct smell in there though, one I hope to never come across again. It literally smelled like a genocide--a place where evil had triumphed. I walked over to alter with still a blood-stained clothe draped over it and wept. I wept the words, "Father forgive us for we do not know what we have done." The brutality  and gruesomeness of the acts committed in that room were absolutely appalling--banging heads against walls, machete chopping, and knife stabbing--but that wasn't what made the floodgates of my soul barricade open. It was because I felt as though a piece of me died with them. I felt like I was a part of them in a strange way. As i've been here in Africa, my view has changed from "them" and "they" to "us" and "we". And although I will never claim to understand the pain of being Rwandan, but I feel as though they are a part of me. And the history of my generations and ancestry killed them. I was over whelmed with grief, sorrow, guilt, anger, and shame.

How do you move on after that? The people of Rwanda killed each other--Hutu and Tutsi. The people who were once neighbors and church member killed each other. How do you forgive someone who killed your whole family? I believe this to be a miracle. Behind the church there were mass graves where over 45,000 people now rest. The graves were open so I walked through thousands and thousands of skulls and femurs--humans reduced to almost the dust of the ground. There were no glass walls, just an enormous amount of eye sockets staring straight into me--able to jump out at me at any moment. I'll never forgot the gaze of those thousands of eyes, it was as if they were whispering, "why?". They torment me. But each one of those skulls  had a mind, that had a body, that had a story. Don't get lost in the number of people, because each person had a dream, a favorite color, a fond memory. The 1 million people who died in the 100 days of the Rwandan genocide were no different than you and I. 

As my emotions and thoughts were racing in 4 dimension ways, my eyes caught glimpse of this particular woman. she was sweeping and cleaning the graves. she stuck out to me not because of what she was doing, but how she was doing it. The way she took care of the graves and this gentleness about her struck me. I thought of how beautiful it was that this Rwandan woman was able to reconcile herself by taking care of those graves and that church. she was the silver lining for me. she represented hope in the midst of wounds and scars as deep as crevasses. she was the only in the church when I was weeping. I felt we had a connection that was not based on words. As we drove away she stood on the edge of the graves and waved at me. It was a different wave than what I was used to. She spoke to me through it, her eyes whispered, "Now you understand." It's like she knew. Because part of did--as much as I could being an outsider. I was processing this experience in my group that night and I spoke about the woman--how her presence really struck me but I didn't know why and I couldn't explain it.  And then the director told us the woman's story and everything made sense. She lost her entire family in the massacre at that church. And for the past 20 years she has been cleaning it and it's graves............

How beautiful is that?! she was making things new, restoring her heart by what she was doing. she was choosing to enter into forgiveness by showing gentleness and love when she would be justified to run from the village and never step foot on those church ground again. I wept. And what I didn't know at the time was that she was just one story of reconciliation. Rwanda is restoring relationships between the perpetrator and survivor to live again as neighbors. The woman whose husband and four children who were brutally murdered right in front of her by her neighbor are now working together and living again in the same community. They deal with immense shame and guilt and struggle with anger and the ability to forgive and love again. It has been 20 years but the wounds are still raw. But hearing there stories as a struggle for restoration is nothing short of a miracle. Why I came to share this experience and enter into a conversation about the Rwandan genocide is because it draws us back to look at our own hearts. We must face that we are not too far off from the same atrocities. They were neighbors remember? Fellow congregation members and co-workers. With the right influence and brainwashing, I believe all of us would be capable of killing. But even more than that, Rwanda teaches us about forgiveness. As I sit and listen to the stories of people forgiving their families killer, I am drawn back into my own heart of the people who have wronged me, hurt me, that I need to forgive. I see how much of a prisoner I am to my perpetrators and how they were weighing my down. And then i think about people I know, people in my own family, who have chained themselves to their perpetrator for decades--and they are still being tormented in their own heart. There is no room for hatred and bitterness in our world. It would seem as though closing the doors to our own heart would protect us, but it really just turns us against each other. As C.S. Lewis says, "The only place where we can be perfectly safe from hurt is heaven and hell." Yes the hurt is real, the pain is real, don't think it is easy for Rwandans to forgive, but anger doesn't co-exist with love. They replace it. So I encourage you, and i'm on this journey too, of letting go and forgiving. We are people carrying around too much baggage and it's weighing us down. We were never created to live like that. Rwanda teaches us that forgiveness is powerful because it's freeing--because as you forgive you realize the prisoner was always you.

Who is "We"?

I have officially completed my final hours in Kisoga at my internship with Compassion International! Praise God! I cannot believe I have spent 440 hours in the rural village of Kisoga—what a journey it has been. I did not really understand how much I had learned from the people there until it was time to say goodbye. I am sure I will discover so much more in the next few months as well. I came into my internship with the expectation that I was going to be doing social work, and I was going to acquire some significant skills to launch me into my career. And while this may be true in time, what I walk away from in my experience doing social work is nothing in the books. It is nothing that can be taught in the classroom. The most significant thing taken away from doing social work is this idea of “we”. At Compassion we are a team, so we refer to ourselves as we. When I am talking with people in the village they refer to us as “we”. This form of “we” is used to encompass a togetherness, a commonality of a group. So compassion is “we”, the people of Kisoga is “we”, and so on. This was very subtle at first but then it started to occur to me that I am outsider in Uganda and they were including me in their discussion of “we”.  Why? There could have been other terms used such as “her” and I could have used “them” or “they”, but no, it was “we”. They found it  fit to bring me to the inside, into their world to understand.

Our team at Compassion engaged in a bible study each morning of the work week and we would pray for various things including family members, Compassion as a whole, and personal issues. We would also pray for the county of Uganda. I admired how people would pray so feverishly for Uganda—how many times have a prayed for the United States? So at our last prayer meeting, I was closing in prayer and I said something along the lines of “Lord, I lift up the country of Uganda to you…” I didn’t think anything of it until the project director approached me later and sat me down to tell me something I will never forget. He said, “Ali, it’s ‘our’ country, not ‘the country of Uganda’.  This is your country too, you are now a part of it.” I was shocked, because I knew he was right. Even though my skin color is different, I don’t speak the native language, and I don’t have nearly the strength of an African woman, I now carry African in me. That is the most beautiful thing about this country is that Ugandans invite others into their life, they allow people to take part in who they are! This is seen in their unbelievable hospitality, encouraging words, and patience in letting outsiders learn their ways of living. They don’t have to do this. It would be easier to just keep visitors “out there”, that’s what the US does right? It takes too much time and effort to let someone be a part of you. This is another thing we need to learn from each other—to open up.

So as I leave Uganda, and prepare for 10 days in Rwanda, I exchange a piece of my heart, and she gives me part of hers. It is precious. No distance can take that away. And that’s the same with the people we have in our life too. Maybe that’s why saying goodbye is so bittersweet. Because we lose a part of ourselves in the exchange for a part of someone else. Uganda has taught me this, and I believe it to be vital in our world as division from race, language, tribes, ethnicity, gender, and social class rule how we live. When we look at the world as “we” and “us” instead of “them” and “they”, we become united people, capable of much more than we presently live.