the american dream

exhausted.
my body aching
my soul depleted
exhausted.

daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough
if i strive long enough
if i dream big enough
that i could do anything.

so i went to college.

counselor told me to build up a resume
so i double majored
i got all a's
i filled my schedule with
curriculars, co-curriculars, extra-curriculars
until there wasn't a minute left.
over 10,000 moments
of classes
and clubs
and meetings
and service
and projects
and lessons
and work
and...
and...

and...exhausted.
body aching
soul depleted
exhausted.

all so i could get a job.

and get a job, i did.
three, in fact.

one to pay for a roof over my head
one to pay for food on my table
and one to pay for the transportation to get to the other two

who has time to dream
when you're working 95 hours a week?

daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough
strive long enough
believe firmly enough
that i could do anything.

exhausted.
body aching
soul depleted
exhausted.

is this the american dream?

tenderheart

do you remember the care bears? i remember them from my childhood a little, but mostly i remember them from when they relaunched in 2002. i was in college at the time and nose deep in sorority life. my friend carrie chose "care bear" as her sorority nick name. (so much cooler than the generic "hav dawg" i was given...) her room was COVERED in care bears. blankets, stuffed animals, pillow cases - you name it, she had it.

one of my students, laura beth, can best be described as one with a gentle spirit and a tender heart. she cares so deeply for the feelings of others. it's taken me a while to warm up to who laura beth is because it is so different from how i tend to be.

for example, carrie wasn't the only one in college to catch on to the care bear craze. other friends bought bears as well. someone bought me "grumpy bear". if tenderheart is the the bear i would give laura beth, then what does it mean that i was given grumpy bear? what does that say about who i was and how i treated others?

i thank God for the laura beths of this world. we need them. to remind us of all that is good and pure in this world and to show us how to simply CARE for one another.

she shut down during one of our activities this morning. our facilitator, susan, from the general board of church and society was demonstrating the abuse people in poverty experience every day, without prepping the students for it, so they didn't know what was happening. all they knew was that she was yelling at them for not finishing the activity on time. "if only you were smarter - does pfeiffer just let ANYONE in?" "if only you worked harder!" "do you not care if you win or not?" "what's wrong with you??"

laura beth had enough. she had tried to speak up, but susan just spoke over her. she tried again. failed again. she ended up turning around in her chair and turning her back to the group circle. if she wouldn't be heard, then she wouldn't engage in the conversation at all.

eventually susan shared the purpose and brought it back to the issue of poverty and the students realized that she had only been pretending before.

what if everyone had done with laura beth did? what if everyone quit listening to susan? what if they left the room? who would she have been speaking to then? a leader who has no one listening to them is not a leader anymore. maybe we could correct some of the social issues in this world if only we would stop listening to those who are content with further silencing those without voices. maybe we could make this world a more tender hearted place...

memorials and memories

this morning we hit up dc's favorite past-time - the monuments! we started with the washington monument and worked our way through to the korean war memorial. what incredible artistry...

as we were walking solemnly through the world war II memorial i couldn't help but send my infamous "death-glare" glances toward an annoying group of middle school boys and girls who seemed more interested in flirting than anything else. i had just about had it when i noticed several war veterans and their wives approaching. anticipating the horror of how disrespected these men and women would be when face to face with the little terrors, i anxiously watched on.

what i saw next was something i will never forget.

the pre-teen boys quit their female counterparts, excitedly approached the older gentlemen in their uniform hats, and nervously asked if they would mind having their picture taken with them. my jaw dropped. in the exact moment when i thought all hope was lost for this next generation, they proved me wrong. in the exact moment when i thought these boys would completely dishonor how those men so graciously served, they treated them like the heroes that they are.

as they gathered for the photo, the men stood tall with their shoulders back and their heads held high. the boys timidly mimicked their every move. when at last it was time to take the photo, they all smiled from ear to ear. picture perfect.

babies. i got stuck with babies.

our morning began at 5am. we silently gathered ourselves for breakfast and walked out the door at 5:45am. as we emerged from the metro station to walk the 5 more blocks to s.o.m.e. the sun had still not broken the day. so many men and women were hurrying through the streets as if rushing to beat the daylight so as not to be seen by us regular folk.

we saw many of those people only an hour later as they came to s.o.m.e. for a hot breakfast. what they received was more than just some food, though. every plate was served with a loving “good morning”, every coffee poured with a smile.

we served over 250 guests and then walked toward the bus station. we passed some of our guests on the streets as we walked. in our devotion time tonight sarah shared that she noticed a man that she had served that morning and though she wanted to say hello, he decidedly avoided her eyes and stared at the ground. is it shame? is it fear? is it what our society has taught him to do because we avert our eyes too?

we eventually reached the bus stop and took the bus over to martha’s table where i got stuck with babies. yes, …babies. others were cleaning playgrounds or preparing food for the mobile soup kitchen, but i was put with the babies.

i think the kids could tell that i wasn’t a baby person. they just stared at me skeptically as i tried to force tiny spoonfuls of applesauce into their tight-lipped little mouths. then i was sent to another room with 9 children 3-15 months old. immediately i was directed to pick up a little crying boy named brian. he settled down rather quickly – seemed he just wanted to be held. i awkwardly walked him around the room while the two classroom teachers fed lunch to the rest of the kids.

one of the teachers kept calling over to brian, telling him that he was being spoiled rotten today. being held is being spoiled? more specifically, being held by a weird lady who doesn’t like kids and doesn’t know how to talk to them is somehow special? i guess when you have 9 infants and only 2 teachers, you have few chances to hold the children and love on them.

being smiled at while walking down the street should not be special treatment. being held should not be special treatment. it ought to be the norm.

the seeds of revolution

we started our morning at the holocaust museum. what a way to begin... my heart sank more into my chest with each new image silently screaming at me from the walls. my stomach turned as i learned about the medical experiments doctors used to justify the torture of innocent jews. the students milled about the exhibits with tear-filled eyes and heavy hearts. it wasn't until i saw my name on the wall of victims, however, that the tears came flooding from the depths of my soul. there it was - hava. there were too many names to count etched onto that glass wall, but my eyes zeroed in on the one my parents chose for me before i was yet born, some 36 years ago. suddenly, this wasn't just a passive walk through history. suddenly, i was part of the story.

isn't this how, all too often, we react? we watch the commercial with starving children in darfur while cooking dinner for our families, and sure we feel bad about it. but it doesn't stop us from continuing with what we were doing. we hear about the genocide in africa, and we quiet our minds with a loud sigh. but then we go back to our lives and move on. it isn't until we find ourselves in the story that we begin to care enough to act.

in our devotion tonight joey read job chapter 17: "my spirit is crushed and my life is nearly snuffed out...where then is my hope? can anyone find it?" (job 17:1, 15 nlv) and begged the question, "what injustices do you see that you want to see end and how do you stop them?" students spoke of large world issues and their desire to see change. they spoke against the passivity of the church today, who only fights causes when they become trends, "when shouldn't we be the ones leading the revolution?"

i think there's a reason that revolution and revelation sound so similar. it is through revelation that the seeds of revolution are planted.

God is definitely planting seeds within these students already this week...