Reflections on 2016

Originally shared at my church's Christmas Eve service.


Good evening. For those who don't know me, my name is April, and I have been attending this church since I was born—I'm what you might call a "lifer." No, but really, I am proud to call Presby home and this year especially I am grateful to be a part of this community—because I could have gotten into some real trouble if not for the grace of God in my life.. I almost made a mistake that could have seriously harmed me and probably would have changed my life forever.

This year I had planned to move to South America to do what I thought would be missionary work: entering into full-time ministry with a local church in Bolivia evangelizing, interceding and teaching. I had a lot of hopes and dreams to glorify God there.

However, a couple months before I had planned to leave, I found out from a couple of friends who were serving that that "church" that the "church" was actually a pretty psychologically and emotionally abusive cult. My friends were not allowed to leave the "church" (where they lived) without supervision, were bullied aggressively by pastors whenever they questioned the way things were run, and my one friend was even locked into the kitchen alone without promise of release. It was a horrific time, and thankfully my two friends left the Bolivian "church" shortly thereafter, around the same time I decided not to go down and join them.

As you might imagine, I spent much of this year coming to terms with this whole fiasco. The main question I had for God was, of course, "Why?"--but also the immediate question of "What now?" I had quit my job! I had been hurtling toward what I had thought was an international ministry opportunity "from God" and now needed to, in many respects, turn on a dime and change course.

I was disappointed and hurt, and felt very confused about God's direction in my life. I didn't know what to do, and God wasn't giving me epiphanies on how he wanted me to "recalculate," as it were. I spent time in reflection and prayer to God, pouring out my heart to him as it's written in Psalm 62. To be fair, though, I also spent a lot of time trying to be numb and trying to survive, in an attempt to ignore my pain and anger towards God for how un-glamorous and stuttering my life had become.

One theme from this year is pretty clear: God has invited me again and again to trust him—to believe he is everything he says he is, taking into full account my painful past, my present shaky circumstances and even my own negative feelings, no matter how strong and all-encompassing they may be.

There were many days this year when my alarm went off in the morning and I just did not want to get out of bed. I didn't feel like I had the energy or the will to face another day. To get motivated, I would sometimes listen to my gospel playlist, which has a song by James Fortune called "I Trust You." The chorus deeply resonates with me and I wanted to share it with you tonight: "I'll trust you/ Lord it's not easy/ Sometimes the pain in my life/ Makes you seen far away/ I'll trust you/ I need to know you're here/ Through the tears and the pain/ Through the heartache and rain/ I'll trust you."

I still don't know a lot of the "whys" behind the whole Bolivia debacle. I'm not yet at a place where I can genuinely thank God for that trial which has tested my faith significantly this year, and brought a fair share of heartache and despair.

However, there are a few things I can say with certainty and conviction:

1. God warned me and protected me from going to Bolivia; he loves me.
2. It's not over; God is still writing my story.
3. Jesus Christ is Lord.

Jesus Christ is Lord. This truth has helped me a lot this year and comforts me greatly.

For me, no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things get, no matter how little things may make sense in the moment, no matter my own helplessness or God's seeming silence—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

In the midst of failure, embarrassment, mistakes and crippling self-doubt—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

When I am lost and don't know what to do—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

"In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:4-5).

Thankful

One of the perks (among many) of being a young person is having a continual sense of how transitory and fleeting everything is. Like, not in a morbid or Buddhist sense per se but in a grateful way. It's hit me lately that the things I enjoy today, I may not be enjoying five years from now.

For example, my parents and I hosted an Oscars viewing party on Sunday evening and invited my grandparents and my uncle and aunt over. We've done a lot of things like this over the years--had people over to watch football games or other random crap. Nevertheless, I was very thankful for the gathering, just because I don't know how much longer my grandparents will be able to travel, or how much longer I'll be living at home with my parents. I made a huge pot of chili with brown rice and my favorite braised collard greens recipe. My aunt brought over spaghetti with multigrain noodles. My grandparents brought delicious fried chicken from Skyway. It's the same thing we've done time and again and yet I was very grateful for it.

Or I was thinking about how special it was to get together with my close girl friends the day after Valentine's Day and share dinner together. I think about my mom and how her (formerly) close friends have husbands and kids now, and it's much more difficult to get together. Just the fact that my friends can come over and we can play jenga and laugh at our own unfunny jokes and binge-eat chocolate... I'm just really glad that (for now) we can still do that. It's actually incredible that we're still in the same geographic region (again, for now).

Or even last Friday taking light rail from work and getting picked up at the station by my grandpa (like last year when I used to live with him and grandma) and eating piroshkis with them for dinner while watching the six o'clock news.

Or walking to work with my mom at 7:30 in the morning while it's cold and windy, but her hugging me and wishing me a good day--I mean, isn't that sweet?

Or meeting up with my Christian friends for coffee and knowing deep down that they care about what's going on in my life and the things that I think and stuff?

These fleeting moments of togetherness with the people dear to me--I've really been taking them to heart lately. I don't know where I'll be two years from now; I don't even know where I'll be one year from now! All the same, though, life is good.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you, God. Thank you, Lord.
-my standard before-dinner prayer

Asking for Help

So this past couple of weeks has been pretty challenging on the caregiver front with my grandparents. Had a pretty bad scare last week when my grandma fell--just THUD! SPLAT!--in the kitchen. I mean, at one point I was about to laugh out loud at how absurd and crazy it was. I had to drag her along the ground, on her back, through the kitchen into the living room so that my grandpa and I could lift her up to a sitting position on the couch. I mean, it's that bad. She's so frail that she can't lift herself up from lying down to sitting up. She couldn't even use her legs to scoot. I mean, imagine an upturned beetle on its back, skinny legs flailing about to no avail. Her appendages have gotten that spindly, I swear.

In the aftermath I was anxious and panicked and generally having thoughts of "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" However, in my long journey as caregiver I have found that in these moments of utter helplessness/feelings of futility it's simplest and best to ask for help. One of the singular and most unhealthy beliefs for caregivers is the "I can make it on my own" mentality--like suffering in silence is noble or something.

If we all just had an adequate dose of humility, we'd all realize that we are no one's savoir and that the only way that we can ever take care of someone is with the help of others! There would be SO MANY less burnt-out, unhappy, emotionally-martyred people in the world. My theory is that each caregiver in the world must stand upon the shoulders of at least seven close friends and supporters that will cheer them on, pick them up when they're down and share the burden. We all need a "team" to hold us up when we're too crumpled to stand on our own.

I'm very thankful for my friends and family that have helped me through the ups and downs of living with my grandparents. This is dedicated to you!

Last Day of School!

So today I finished up for the school year! I must admit, I feel a bit strange. The hilarious thing is, people can tell. They say, "Wow, you seem really happy." It's a huge relief and I feel so free! I can't wait to take a break from all the dramatic seriousness that is the savior-complex of the school of social work. Lighten up, peeps!

Since everything is wrapping up, I'm getting all reflective... I love to reminisce and be sentimental. Today Hillary & I were walking home from getting smoothies and thinking about all the breakfasts we've made together with Faith. I met with Kristen today and we agreed that it seemed just yesterday that we were getting lunch together at the HUB. The years are flying by.

I <3 Hillary!

As brutal as this year may have been (with dreary weather and faith crisis and burnout), there are definitely things to be thankful for. What I cherish most about this year is all of the friendships! It was definitely tough to leave high school and lose my posse..but it's so cool now to be building networks at UW. I'm thankful for all the wonderful memories with Hillary & Faith--grocery shopping, cooking, playing volleyball, watching movies, quoting them and just talking about life! I once asked them, "Is this what it's like to have a sister?" I have truly learned the value of living with other Christians and sharing in fellowship together. It's been a blast!

Brittany and I are buds..

My peers at the school of social work have just been super awesome, too. It's amazing to be around such passionate, caring, like-minded people. I'm thankful for Tania, who I bonded with on the really discouraging lobby day for immigrant rights/services. I'm thankful for Kayla (who, sadly, is leaving the program!) and Kanchan--I'll never forget going to coffee with the two of them and finally realizing I wasn't alone in my distress because of the class content. And of course, Brittany has been such a wonderful new friend to me, I can't even express it with words! She is a ray of sunshine in my life. When I prayed for ONE friend in freshman year, I was super happy to find Hillary. Brittany, too? I am just tooooooo blessed. From spur-of-the-moment ice skating to earring beading to watching the "Double Rainbow Song" and Mi Pecado, I've just had so much fun hanging out with her!

And also, though I can't quite yet articulate it in words yet, I feel as if God has done a lot for me this year to establish me in my faith and prepare me for the future, whatever it may hold. I just have a sense of peace and a sort of inner equanimity about all the "tough things" in the world--like ya, it's going to be all right. Anyway..

I find myself thinking about the things I am going to miss about my life here at UW, living in the Cliff House. Move out day is a little over a week away! I'll definitely miss Ten Thousand Villages (I am SO going there tomorrow!). And the millions of bus routes here. I'll miss hosting kick-@$$ parties with Hillz & Faith. There are so many little things! But until I actually move out, I'm going to soak up every little moment and every little blessing!--like walking home from U Village today as the sun was setting and enjoying the smell of summer, vibrant colors of grass & trees and the happy energy of students exulting in the end of the school year.

I Have a Dream..

 So this past Friday Grandpa & I went to "Be the Spark" Rally at the Tacoma Dome. The purpose was to bring people together as a community, to get pumped up to make a difference! I was so surprised that so many people care, you know??? Because sometimes I can get so cynical--and it seems like the general public is indifferent about poverty and suffering locally and globally. Friday I was overwhelmed to see this perception completely contradicted! Local youth from the schools and YMCA attended and the fact that they're reaching out & volunteering is a gigantic relief to me. Humanity is sinful and flawed and all that stuff, but sometimes people can be so dang SURPRISING in their sincere love and altruism. From the first song I was crying. It was this indie hip funk alt. band playing some awesome jamz but then this incredible black rapper started performing parts of Dr. King's "I Have a Dream Speech" over it all and I just about lost it. I was crying at the beauty of his dream--of peace, of reconciliation and mostly of HOPE. That he could have dared to dream of "the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood" in the middle of all the overwhelming overt racism, hate, history of oppression--I just am not quite sure how he did it.

I've been so afraid to dream this year--for a better future, for good to prevail. All this striving for peace and justice can feel like one giant loss after another. I started to doubt my idealistic visions of wholeness and goodness and progress even, towards a global community. I have had my share of disappointments in seeing the suffering of clients, and nothing changing (e.g. oppressive immigration law), but I don't think that's reason to not expect any change--it sure isn't reason to not expect anything better from God, or from ourselves.

And that's why I think Desmond Tutu is so special. Look how warm and fun and adorable he looks! Every time he laughed on Friday I felt like I could be happy for the rest of my life & nothing mattered anymore. :) He, like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., faced intense hatred and oppression. He struggled. He fought. Yet through it all he has maintained his sense of humor, hope and faith in God.

His sermon that night was very interesting. I'd listened to some of his other stuff so I was a bit familiar with his theology. The way he sees it, things are just messed up here on earth. Just plain messed. And he sees God as, in many situations of injustice, powerless. Powerless. Isn't that crazy? That God sees all this icky stuff happening and "all he can do is cry," the Archbishop states. In the following clip he describes it as such: "the omnipotent becomes impotent."

God requires human partners. He relies on us to act in the world. There's a woman in my Sunday school class who shared today, "This is the first time in my life ever that I have said yes to what God has asked of me. And I know without a doubt that I am exactly where I should be." She's a mother of two and is studying to be an RN. I mean, I think this is what God is asking of us. To be courageous. To say yes to him. Imagine the possibilities.

We Silence the Privileged

This reflection essay I write in response to my time spent in inter-group dialogue (2.5 hr. long weekly sessions with 9 other students of differing "social identity groups" i.e., race, socio-economic status, religion, etc. for the purpose of "mutual understanding," reconciliation and coalition building for a stronger, united human community). Hoping that it might encourage you, whether you consider yourself privileged, oppressed or bits of both.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

We Silence the Privileged

            When my white colleagues kept apologizing for not having “powerful” stories to tell, I sat confused. They minimized their experiences of exclusion, alienation and identity confusion as less relevant, real and gritty. Their self-deprecation caused by the personal guilt of privilege through race made me wonder.

            The School of Social Work encourages its students to be “champions of the oppressed” and to “bring marginalized voices to the fore.” Yet, simultaneously, is it disempowering, denying and guilt-tripping the oppressors? The school teaches that the poor must not be stigmatized or demonized, but aren’t we committing this act of judgment upon the proverbial “white male”?

            As I have continued to sit in my bewilderment I must challenge my assumptions: Do I actually value the utterly tragic stories of the poor and oppressed more than their rich and privileged counterparts?

            Sometimes I thank my lucky stars that I am majoring in social work because I know that the rest of my life will be devoted to knowing “real people”—and by “real people” I mean people who have “gone through a lot”: i.e., the traumatized, suffering oppressed. In my compassion for the poor I realize that I have developed a bias against the powerful, the “oppressors.” I think of them as less than human because I assume that life has been handed to them on a silver platter. I even have that resentment towards the privileged parts of myself: my comfortably middle class suburban life of stability. I consider this part of myself to be illegitimate; I seek to disown it. It is nothing to be proud of; it is rather a source of shame. We downplay our privileged identities because there is no sense of struggle in them. In our privilege we enjoy what we did not earn.

            And I sense that many others hold this bias against their privilege as well. I see it in my white colleagues; the bias is directed against themselves. Yet as they shared their personal stories of pain—of being rejected on the basis of religion, moral values and nonconformity—I can see that their pain is legitimate. Undeniably they have enjoyed much power and convenience on the basis of their race, and yet their complexity shines forth in their experience of simultaneous oppression along other lines. Perhaps they have been shielded from a lot of pain because of their race, but their race has not excluded them from all pain. I cannot pretend that they are not “real people” as they share their loneliness and insecurity. We all carry brokenness within us—even if it may be hidden or suppressed by a façade of privilege.

            Surely, it is a “straw man” to compare suffering and oppressions among individuals. It is also unfair to evaluate people according to the amount of hardships they have endured throughout their lifetime. I must challenge my tendency to discount the life experiences of those who have not “had it rough”—according to my arbitrary standards of who is deserving or non-deserving of “speaking their truth.” I must challenge myself to re-humanize the oppressor. I must remember that the river of pain touches the shores of all lives. I must allow the estuary of these streams to commingle and swirl into one sea. For only in the uniting of our personal pain can we rise together.   

Seeking Permanency

Definitely time for a post. Thinking so much about various things that I cannot fall asleep! Some things I have been pondering lately:

Do politics really matter? Feeling as if my policy class is pulling back the veil that reveals the Wizard of Oz to be nothing more than a man! Starting to see how corrupt and broken the political system is and how ignorant and deceived we are on a daily basis!! More and more I'm seeing that it all comes down to: POWER, MONEY and SELF-INTEREST.. Tomorrow I am going to Olympia with a classmate to advocate for immigrants and refugees. I think the best part of political advocacy is the sheer number of people that show up to rallys like these. It's so encouraging to know that there are people in the U.S. who actually give a damn. That's the best part--meeting people who care!! Not sure if what we're doing (rallying/advocating) is actually making a difference, but whatever; I have a good time being around passionate people!

Why is Valentine's Day such a big deal? Seems like for single girls Valentine's Day is, like, the WORST DAY EVER. I dunno, I just don't feel that bad about myself for being single anymore. Whereas in high school I was insecure and considered myself "unlikeable" because I did not catch the attention of a guy, I'm pretty indifferent now. I think the coolest thing I can celebrate as a single woman on Valentine's Day is the crazy amount of awesome friends that God has given me. I think about friends I've had for a LONG time (Rachel R.!) and ones I've known for a couple years (Hillary & Faith) and new ones I met just this year (Brittany from the BASW program) and I feel so thankful! And, like, damn, we've got the rest of our lives to be married (if we end up married, that is), so I say, live it up while we can!!! :)

Totes defs missing Mexico.. I'm really missing the families and children in San Miguel de Allende! I have had SO MANY wonderful experiences becoming a part of different communities through volunteer work (Consejo, Villa Esperanza, Casa de los Amigos, Hogar de los Angeles) but the saddest thing is that they all eventually had to end! I had to say goodbye and sometimes I wonder about clients I was particularly fond of.

For example, at Consejo I really connected with an older man named Carlos*, who grew up in Texas but now lives in an apt near Lake City. He's pretty coherent, although sometimes I wondered a bit at what he was trying to tell me--he was mandated to get mental health treatment in order to receive public assistance for housing and food. Anyway, his gift was in art--he did portraits and all sorts of things with nothing more than a crappy set of crayons and colored pencils. I would sit with him and watch him draw and he would tell me about different things he'd bought recently and refurbished, or things he'd like to get for his apartment.

Or I think about Villa Esperanza & the family of Tania* and her three sons Victor*, Alejandro* and Cristofer*. The stereotypical single mother of color with three kids is usually pitied by liberals because she's up against so many barriers, blahblahblah. Well, of course. Tania's a survisor of sexual abuse, English is her second language, etc. But that was one of the strongest families I have EVER seen. I mean, the LOVE, they had for each other was so beautiful! The oldest, Victor, looked after his lil' bros and even his mom! It was obvious the boys all loved and respected Tania... I did not pity that family. They moved out of the transitional housing right  before I finished volunteering and I wonder where they are now.

At Casa de los Amigos I think of Ceferino*. This boy was a prophet full of wisdom and insight and compassion--mature beyond his years (he's only 16!). He came from Honduras, riding trains north through Mexico to get to the U.S. His family back home is super poor and all he wants to do is learn, make money to send home. I mean, damn, he's in this children's prison, not knowing whether he'll be deported or what have you, and he's so focused! I mean, sure, there were days where I could tell the weight of it all was getting to him--that he was thinking and contemplating despair. But jeez, he just fought so much through it all. He took the GED, took every opportunity possible to learn and practice English, was almost always in his room reading.. He was basically the dad of that unit, looking after the other boys and was the first to use his own savings to purchase a parting gift when a kid got adopted or deported. Last I knew he was placed in a group home with other U.S. naturalized homeless youth and seemed to be mostly thriving, although his court case was still pending. He called me the other day, but I never got back to him. I realized too late that giving out my personal cell phone number was breaching professional boundaries.. I wonder, though, where he is and how he's doing.

And at Hogar de los Angeles--so many that I left behind! So many incredible families.. I miss those women and their children terribly! I miss Mexico.. I was thinking about how the woman across the street who ran a bakery let me get sweet bread when I was short 3 pesos, trusting that I'd pay her back later. I don't know, little things... I was moved by that because it'd never happen here in the U.S.

*Changing names although I'm pretty sure I'm already violating HIPA privacy & disclosure codes, w/e

All this goes to say that I am yearning to be in a long-term community because that is was I really, really enjoy. I want to be somewhere where I don't have to think about saying goodbye, because I'll be sticking around. Like for at least a year, but preferrably two or three. I want to put down roots in the community I'm going to be serving, because I want to show them that I care enough to stay with them. It's such an incredible experience meeting and knowing the poor, being a part of their lives. There is nothing really like it at all.

Until then.. I keep dreaming.