For those of you who know me, you know that I am not a runner. I would much rather take a nice, long walk (although my brother says I always speed walk) than go for a run. Maybe that's reflective of my enjoyment in thinking deeply on things, my tendency to analyze before making decisions, and my overall natural bent to be cautious. Maybe it shows that I need to take my time to work through difficulties and decisions on my own. Maybe it's a demonstration that I am not very good at trusting.
And yet, lately, I've been hearing this little thought over and over again. It's a steady, quiet whisper: "Shall we run?"
An interesting question for me, isn't it? For the girl who hates to run and who likes to work on her own, I want to say no, right away. Yet, a part of me refuses to let me deny the request. A part of me wants to run, the rush headlong into a new adventure, to trust blindly without worrying through my insecurities and questionings. Deep within me, a soft, whisper responds, "yes!"
For the last couple of weeks, I've become more and more aware of myself and my tendencies. And I've realized that a lot of those tendencies are stopping me from moving ahead, from gaining speed. Instead of being disappointed in myself, as I would tend to be, I've been hearing this voice asking me, "shall we run? Will you run with me?" This is my opportunity to say, "yes," to forge ahead into personal areas of growth, to geographical areas unknown, into cultures unfamiliar, and to inevitable sacrifices of comfort and caution.
Although I've been in MATUL (Master of Arts in Transformational Urban Leadership) for a number of months, I've only just realized that I haven't truly trusted the Lord with the next two years. I've been holding onto making my own plans, thinking and working through everything on my own. And even more, I haven't trusted Him with what comes after the program ends. I want to decide where I will go, what I will do, who I will become, and what my own future holds. I'm not trusting that He will direct me as I go. When He asks me to run with Him, He doesn't tell me where we are running, or even where we begin. He simply asks if I will come with Him, implying that I must trust that He knows where to go.
So, will I choose to trust Him? Will I choose to set aside my analyzing and self-preserving caution? Will I choose to run?
I think, perhaps, I shall.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
I've Been Called "Friend"
It wasn't too long ago that I wrote of missing the Midwest and my home. To a certain extent, I know I will always miss that place, but I am finding that I have grown to love Los Angeles - which actually took me by surprise. The streets I walk are starting to feel familiar, the trees don't seem so strange, and hearing the calls of street vendors in the morning is not startling anymore. I never wanted to travel to California, let alone LA, yet, here I find myself not merely living, but participating in life.
And tonight, I was called, "friend."
This may not seem very significant to a lot of you, but in fact it is. I moved into a neighborhood that is 85% Latino, 64% born in Latin America. I am very much the outsider. Not only am I white, blonde, and blue-eyed, but I am from the north - and to people here, the north means northern California, not Minnesota. On top of that, I have the finances to go to not only undergraduate but also graduate school while the majority of residents here have not finished their high school degrees. To say that I am an outsider might even be a gentle way of putting it.
And tonight, just a few hours ago, I was called, "friend."
I've mentioned the ladies from the park numerous times, I know, but they are truly my window into the culture and happenings of the neighborhood. Each time I go to talk with them, they greet me warmly, make some room for me on the cement bench, and ask me how I've been since we last saw each other. It had been a while since I last joined them in the park, due to assignments and work schedules, but they quickly let that pass by and drew me into their conversation. They ladies were excited because they were planning a "convivio" or a small party in the park that would take place on Saturday, today. Before I left to finish my homework for the day, I was invited to join them at 3:30pm on Saturday.
Excited to go to their gathering, I baked some of the famous, secret family recipe chocolate chip cookies to bring with me. When I arrived, they were just stoking the charcoal grill to begin the cooking and a number of dishes had already arrived. Soon, the "costillas" or ribs, and the carne asada (literally, "roasted meat") were thrown on the grill and plates were made for everyone around the bench, including the children running around. The conversation focused on food, cooking, and the children as we ate. Just as the sky was beginning to darken, the men began to gather around the women, looking for food and beer. As their plates were prepared, one of the lady's husbands came up to me, asking his wife while he stared at me, "Es vecina, o amiga? Vive cerca?" - "Is she a neighbor or a friend? Does she live close?" His wife turned, looked at me, turned back to her husband and said clearly, without hesitation, "Amiga. Ella es amiga." - "Friend. She is a friend." As I confirmed to the man that I could speak Spanish, his wife explained how I came to the park to sit and talk with them, laughing at the silly stories we would all tell. And although the sun had gone and the wind had picked up, chilling all of us around the cement bench in the Alvarado Terrace Park, everything within me was warm and aglow.
I was called a friend.
They knew that I was new to this neighborhood. They knew that I didn't fully understand their culture. They knew that my Spanish wasn't perfect. They knew that I would be leaving at the end of the semester. And yet, through all of the differences and disconnect, they welcomed me in, explained neighborhood dynamics, shared their culture, and corrected my Spanish. Much of the time, they were content with merely allowing me to sit and listen to their stories and learn about their lives. And somehow, through those simple interactions, I have been considered a friend.
Los Angeles has worked its way into my heart, but more importantly, these ladies have opened up their lives and received mine in the process. It reminds me of the truth that God calls me His friend, in spite of all my failings. And, in response to His friendship, I must give Him my life. So also, as these ladies have taken me in, I must share my life with them, and consequently, my faith.
For I have been called, "friend."
And tonight, I was called, "friend."
This may not seem very significant to a lot of you, but in fact it is. I moved into a neighborhood that is 85% Latino, 64% born in Latin America. I am very much the outsider. Not only am I white, blonde, and blue-eyed, but I am from the north - and to people here, the north means northern California, not Minnesota. On top of that, I have the finances to go to not only undergraduate but also graduate school while the majority of residents here have not finished their high school degrees. To say that I am an outsider might even be a gentle way of putting it.
And tonight, just a few hours ago, I was called, "friend."
I've mentioned the ladies from the park numerous times, I know, but they are truly my window into the culture and happenings of the neighborhood. Each time I go to talk with them, they greet me warmly, make some room for me on the cement bench, and ask me how I've been since we last saw each other. It had been a while since I last joined them in the park, due to assignments and work schedules, but they quickly let that pass by and drew me into their conversation. They ladies were excited because they were planning a "convivio" or a small party in the park that would take place on Saturday, today. Before I left to finish my homework for the day, I was invited to join them at 3:30pm on Saturday.
Excited to go to their gathering, I baked some of the famous, secret family recipe chocolate chip cookies to bring with me. When I arrived, they were just stoking the charcoal grill to begin the cooking and a number of dishes had already arrived. Soon, the "costillas" or ribs, and the carne asada (literally, "roasted meat") were thrown on the grill and plates were made for everyone around the bench, including the children running around. The conversation focused on food, cooking, and the children as we ate. Just as the sky was beginning to darken, the men began to gather around the women, looking for food and beer. As their plates were prepared, one of the lady's husbands came up to me, asking his wife while he stared at me, "Es vecina, o amiga? Vive cerca?" - "Is she a neighbor or a friend? Does she live close?" His wife turned, looked at me, turned back to her husband and said clearly, without hesitation, "Amiga. Ella es amiga." - "Friend. She is a friend." As I confirmed to the man that I could speak Spanish, his wife explained how I came to the park to sit and talk with them, laughing at the silly stories we would all tell. And although the sun had gone and the wind had picked up, chilling all of us around the cement bench in the Alvarado Terrace Park, everything within me was warm and aglow.
I was called a friend.
They knew that I was new to this neighborhood. They knew that I didn't fully understand their culture. They knew that my Spanish wasn't perfect. They knew that I would be leaving at the end of the semester. And yet, through all of the differences and disconnect, they welcomed me in, explained neighborhood dynamics, shared their culture, and corrected my Spanish. Much of the time, they were content with merely allowing me to sit and listen to their stories and learn about their lives. And somehow, through those simple interactions, I have been considered a friend.
Los Angeles has worked its way into my heart, but more importantly, these ladies have opened up their lives and received mine in the process. It reminds me of the truth that God calls me His friend, in spite of all my failings. And, in response to His friendship, I must give Him my life. So also, as these ladies have taken me in, I must share my life with them, and consequently, my faith.
For I have been called, "friend."
Friday, November 1, 2013
Listen to Their Stories
This post is dedicated to the women that I have met in Pico-Union and their perseverance throughout life's struggles. Life is not easy, nor are their stories, but their resiliency, love, and joy is beautiful.
Meet Susana - As a part of living in downtown LA, I have been challenged to really connect with and spend time in my neighborhood. One of the ways that I decided to do this was to go to the park just a block from my apartment and start conversing with the ladies there. On the first night I decided to do this, I met Susana. Susana, and another lady that I met named Maria, were sitting on a cement bench. I was a bit nervous as I approached them, and I asked cautiously if I could sit and join them. Susana was the first the speak and warmly welcomed me to take a seat. From that night on, Susana became my connection to the ladies in the park. I soon found out that the ladies gather practically every night at the park from 5 to 8pm to talk, encourage, and support one another. In a sense, Susana is their leader - she is the one they go to for advice, and she stands up for the ladies in the face of opposition. After my second night of going, I was warmly invited to come and join them as often as I could, and Susana began calling me, "mi hija" which means, "my daughter". Even though I have a very busy schedule between work and school, I typically find 1 or 2 nights a week that I can go and talk with them and they are very understanding of my limitations and continue to welcome me with genuine warmth.
One night, it was especially dark. Fall had begun to take over LA, which simply means the sunset comes earlier, but additionally, it was spiritually dark. One of the ladies, another woman named Maria, began to say some disturbing things. She claimed that any of the street lights that went out in the park were put out by her. Any of the children that fell while they were playing, fell because of her. She then told Susana that she had seen a spirit rise from the ground at the steps of her apartment and stay there for a number of hours, only to sink back into the ground again. Many of the ladies were frightened, and one even said she might not come back. Susana was very distraught. She took me aside, and we walked and talked for a bit, her telling me about some of her fears, and hearing that Maria has been known to talk to a local witch. Susana tried to reaffirm me by saying she wasn't afraid of Maria or what she had said, but that it made her uncomfortable and the other ladies fearful. She kept saying, "I don't like that. It's not right, mi hija. It's not right for someone to get happy when they make other people afraid. It's not right!" And I had to agree with her. It was very late, and I needed to return to my apartment, but I promised to come to her apartment the following afternoon to pray with her.
The next day, I met Susana at her apartment. We talked for a while, and then I offered to pray, as I had brought my bilingual Bible with me. She was grateful, and said yes, but before I could pray, she began to talk and tell me about the things she was struggling with. She told me about her unfaithful husband who was supposed to be paying the rent, but wasn't, and who had physically abused her in the past. While she wanted to leave, she had no place or connection that had enough room for both her and her husband, so she could not. For a while now, she has been worried about her living situation, but has not told her children about it. Most of her children are older, or married, and her oldest son is very connected with a strong, local gang. Susana said that she was afraid that if her children found out, that they would do something to her husband and get into serious trouble because of it. For this reason, she feels very alone and without options. While my purpose was to go and pray with Susana, what she really needed was someone to simply listen to her and be a comfort.
Let me introduce you to Rosa - I met Rosa because of my connection to Jeff and Jacquelyn. Rosa owns a salon a few blocks away, and has been their hair cutter for the past few years and has just begun to attend the church that we attend in Pico-Union. She is a very strong woman who loves her children dearly, and earnestly seeks to understand them. When she heard that Jeff and Jacquelyn wanted to start a Bible study in Pico-Union, she immediately offered her salon as a place for the women to meet. Since then, we have been meeting and praying with Rosa, and she has shared a lot about her personal life. Rosa married her husband before she became a Christian, and since then has often struggled in her marriage. Her husband does not seem to have a steady job, often stays home, and refuses to come with her to church. Due to certain circumstances, Rosa is struggling to decide whether or not it is time for her to move on. This is especially painful for her, as she sees her children struggle with the separation between her and her husband, but she also needs to keep her well-being, and that of her children, in mind. Yet, in spite of this, she is incredibly hospitable and generous, inviting other women that visit her salon to the Bible study, and praying whole-heartedly for those around her.
Meet Susana - As a part of living in downtown LA, I have been challenged to really connect with and spend time in my neighborhood. One of the ways that I decided to do this was to go to the park just a block from my apartment and start conversing with the ladies there. On the first night I decided to do this, I met Susana. Susana, and another lady that I met named Maria, were sitting on a cement bench. I was a bit nervous as I approached them, and I asked cautiously if I could sit and join them. Susana was the first the speak and warmly welcomed me to take a seat. From that night on, Susana became my connection to the ladies in the park. I soon found out that the ladies gather practically every night at the park from 5 to 8pm to talk, encourage, and support one another. In a sense, Susana is their leader - she is the one they go to for advice, and she stands up for the ladies in the face of opposition. After my second night of going, I was warmly invited to come and join them as often as I could, and Susana began calling me, "mi hija" which means, "my daughter". Even though I have a very busy schedule between work and school, I typically find 1 or 2 nights a week that I can go and talk with them and they are very understanding of my limitations and continue to welcome me with genuine warmth.
One night, it was especially dark. Fall had begun to take over LA, which simply means the sunset comes earlier, but additionally, it was spiritually dark. One of the ladies, another woman named Maria, began to say some disturbing things. She claimed that any of the street lights that went out in the park were put out by her. Any of the children that fell while they were playing, fell because of her. She then told Susana that she had seen a spirit rise from the ground at the steps of her apartment and stay there for a number of hours, only to sink back into the ground again. Many of the ladies were frightened, and one even said she might not come back. Susana was very distraught. She took me aside, and we walked and talked for a bit, her telling me about some of her fears, and hearing that Maria has been known to talk to a local witch. Susana tried to reaffirm me by saying she wasn't afraid of Maria or what she had said, but that it made her uncomfortable and the other ladies fearful. She kept saying, "I don't like that. It's not right, mi hija. It's not right for someone to get happy when they make other people afraid. It's not right!" And I had to agree with her. It was very late, and I needed to return to my apartment, but I promised to come to her apartment the following afternoon to pray with her.
The next day, I met Susana at her apartment. We talked for a while, and then I offered to pray, as I had brought my bilingual Bible with me. She was grateful, and said yes, but before I could pray, she began to talk and tell me about the things she was struggling with. She told me about her unfaithful husband who was supposed to be paying the rent, but wasn't, and who had physically abused her in the past. While she wanted to leave, she had no place or connection that had enough room for both her and her husband, so she could not. For a while now, she has been worried about her living situation, but has not told her children about it. Most of her children are older, or married, and her oldest son is very connected with a strong, local gang. Susana said that she was afraid that if her children found out, that they would do something to her husband and get into serious trouble because of it. For this reason, she feels very alone and without options. While my purpose was to go and pray with Susana, what she really needed was someone to simply listen to her and be a comfort.
This is Nina - One night, Nina joined us for Bible study at Rosa's salon. Rosa had left for a moment and told us to lock up the shop behind her. A few minutes later, Nina appears at the door. Jacquelyn tells her that the salon is closed, and Nina says she is here to see Rosa. Unsure of what to do, Jacquelyn and I decide to leave the salon locked, since that was Rosa's request from us, and Nina waits outside. When Rosa returns, we find out that Rosa had invited her to the Bible study, but hadn't informed us that she was coming! Feeling a bit awkward, we apologize, and Nina laughs with us at the situation - our friendship has now been established. Nina shows herself to be a very warm, friendly individual with a lot of history of leadership within the church. That first week, she doesn't open up very much, but the second week she shares her story with Rosa and me. Nina came from Central America as a young, married woman, and her children soon followed her to the U.S. While her children were very young, ages 10 and 5 months, a man invaded her home. She relates the story, telling us of the fear she had when she heard him walking toward the bedroom where her 10 year old son was sleeping and where she was nursing her 5 month old daughter. He opens the door, and she asks him, "What can I do for you? Do you need something?" The man answers that he is hungry. Nina replies, "Go to the kitchen and open the fridge. Whatever is there, you can eat. But, I cannot help you since I am feeding my daughter." The man yells in anger, "No, you will come with me!" At this, Nina's son wakes up and asks his mom who the man is. The man says, "Go back to sleep, boy, or I will kill your mother," as he takes out his knife and approaches Nina. Nina complies, and goes into the living room with the man. He takes her daughter from her arms and throws her onto the coach, and proceeds to rape her. After this, Nina and her family struggled to feel secure in their home. For years, Nina would not tell her son what happened, and only when he reached his 20's did he receive the truth. His response was, "I always knew that's what happened." Now, her son is being detained to be deported for the second time, and Nina is desperately trying to keep him in the country. I have started to work with her to obtain a U-visa for her son, which is based on a person experiencing a crime and obtaining trauma from a crime that happened on U.S. soil. We may not have enough time, but we are trying what we can. Even with this happening, Nina is committed to attending our Bible study and prayer group.
These are the women that I have begun to develop relationships with here in Los Angeles. I have learned so much from them - Spanish, Latino culture, urban concepts of spirituality and prayer, hospitality, generosity, joy, and love. With little more than a month left, I hope to strengthen these relationships and encourage these women to continue to persevere and play a positive, supportive role within their community.
(All names have been changed in order to protect the privacy of these women)
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