Week 8

"I longed to be a part of something large and good; something that required all of me;
something dangerous and worth dying for."

In preparation for this week's unexpected entry, I was fortunate enough to fix my thoughts onto the topic of vulnerability. Ironic? Possibly........ yes. If you happen to have any relationship with me, you might find it extremely obvious that I have a great fear of vulnerability. The times relationally, spiritually, emotionally, and physically, that I have put myself in such a position, helplessness and pain swelled my spirit.

However, the Lord has given me an exception: the times when that should continue, it doesn't. This might be beyond what my words can express but I guess, that is how it is supposed to be anyway. ;)

Love. Love. Love.

I write this word as I say it. I cannot just read "love love love." I try to learn "love," as I read "love." Perhaps it is just a word to you or perhaps it is an action. Perhaps it is just a feeling. Each person's definition is unique and fits his or her heart. Webster only defines the term as a strong likening or affection for a person. Again, ironic. Let me ask this though: what hinders you from loving? I find great sorrow in the superficial definition of a word that seems to be so unexplainable to the common person. However, I believe that it is through experiences created out of vulnerability that one can possibly and reasonably create their own sincere definition and interestingly enough, that sincerity and new idea constructs a new piece of character or perhaps brings forth one that had been supressed.

I'd like to share a testimony that contains my favorite time, my most influential experience, and the moment that I.... saw me.

On an island around 50 miles from the shoreline that contained a small speckle of what was known to be a shrimping village. I looked back wondering what was ahead of me, for what was behind was sorrowful. The water was thick with salt; so thick that the transparency of paradise was unimaginable. I was layered in clothing to last me the week on the island which was then covered with the white and tasteful sparkles of salt. These layers, which were physical at the time, by the end of the week symbolize the "covering" I intentionally created for my protection. We were warned that the island was heavily fixed in the drug trade and violence. There was no form of government and business was with the shrimp business, dominated by man.
There was no welcome. They watched holding bottles of tequila as I walked briskly by, avoiding all contact. They stared. However, what the difference betweem them and me? They covered their souls with deviance and then layered it with alcohol so that true identities could not be exposed. I was hesitant in justifying my presence amoung this environment. There were no women in sight; houses were made of tar and driftwood. I saw eyes peeking through the cracks. They were hidden, fearful...... of me? What did they see? That night, we waited inside the church of plywood. I sat, being "Heidi." This is the whole point: "being Heidi." I had come to love so for the next few days I did. We reconstructed this plywood monument, cooked, and played games with the kids. While we were there one night, two men had come in from fishing intoxicated beyond comprehension. The other men, also intoxicated, manipulated the situation, instigated agression and violence by persuading the two men to fight...with machetes. The next day, a woman who had come to the church the night before hid behind her home avoiding all contact with us. Ashamed, she had developed bruises on her arms and legs, walked limply, and primarily hiding her face. A woman in her mid-60's, she came again that night, but sat in the back, hiding herself. Was she hiding from us or from God? She was scared.....but she still came?! There I was. I hid myself but I still came. I was scared. I watched her the entire service. All I could do was hold my head in shame. I had no bruises. I had realized that my aim to efficiently serve had overcome my true service of loving. "We hide our truest selves and offer only what we believe is wanted, what is safe."

Can we serve sincerely and yet maintain safety? This security I write of is not physical, but emotional and perhaps spiritual. My fear had initially kept me from truely loving these people. To them, all I could be was a curious observer. However, that night I watched her leave the church, head still curled towards her shoulder. I followed her pace about 20 meters. I called "Senorita," and she stopped, turned, and faced me. I did not know her spoken language, but I know that she understood me then. I grasped her hand with both of mine and said "Jesus te ama y..... te amo." I don't know if that was correct but, I pray that my intention was understood. We just stood there...no words, and she walked away.

This woman had been beated by her husband for coming to church while he was gone.
This woman lived constantly in a physical and emotional vulnerability. Though I couldn't speak to her, nor keep things from happening to her, I could love her. Truly love her.

Love, to me, is giving of yourself. Love, to me is, being honest. Love, to me, is being weak, being broken of selfishness and fear. Once these ideas are accomplished, then the concept of unconditional love will come forward without force. I believe that only a person is worth this sacrifice. "Being Heidi," is not enough.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want ot make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it careful round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable...." -C.S. Lewis

In my time of volunteering, I have repeatedly realized the difference between volunteerism and servanthood. However, I do believe that that line can be stepped over and even erased. I do believe that it is a conscious transformation. Honestly, volunteerism is dead. It is a dead action. It prides itself in efficiency and production. Servanthood often lacks results to the naked eye and in essence, is founded upon vulnerability of all parties involved. I understand that there are things that need to be done, busy-work that needs to be tediously completed, but I do beg you to break the threshhold - step past the line. That, my friend is doing something big, something worth remembering, something good, and something worth dying for:

Love.

WELCOME BACK!! So throughout this week, the dental section at the community clinic was closed, but I will be back and KICKIN' next week! So instead, I would like to share a little bit more about my kids on Wednesday night at youth. I, along with my friends, Toderick and Terrance, are the peer leaders/mentors of this group of junior high students.

IN SUMMARY,

LET'S just say that the Lord is really going to have a give me a patient heart when I have my own kids this age!! ;)

We had 12 kids, but it seemed that there were 30 in the room. There is NO sense of respect of authority and a greater lack of respect for one another. One test of the night was brought forth by a 7th grader named Zach. He is possibly one of the most insecure people I have met, yet verbally has NO humility. I cannot even illiterate how much I thought that child, yes child, needed to be spanked (according to my household), and disciplined, by social definition. What is interesting about him is that he would take scripture out of context (which other kids his age know no difference), and use it to support his statements and personality. He has truly been on my heart and in my prayers, and honestly, I've probably been praying for myself just as much! HA! I was praying throughout the time of our meeting that I would be careful with my expressions, words, and "speak the truth in love." Maybe my crazy motherly instinct was kickin' in, but I can understand how it might be easier to treat a female my age with disrespect rather than a male. BUT HOLY COW! These people had no fear. In my opinion Toderick and Terrance are two big and bold guys - they are intimidating because they are "real." "We (they) don't play games," as they both said that night. Honestly, I have been praying for these kids to be broken spiritually, and realize that their substance comes not from their ability to be popular or attractive or the center of attention. I pray that a sense of reverence and respect will come forth. I thought about how I, a much older person, wanted theses kids to think I am cool but yet still incorporate the personna of a mentor and disciplinarian.

I thought this type of volunteering is very different than any other service project. I find it so odd, that what happens each time I'm with these students is implanted on my heart. It's almost like a heavy weight, that I am having to realize I CANNOT release. Only God. I just pray that I am a vessel of love, comfort, and justice. I can't change the world, but there is one that can. It reminds me of the line from Passion of the Christ where Jesus is carrying the cross through the streets, stumbles, and falls in humility, and Mary comes to His side: "See Mother, I can make all things new."

"...... I can make all things new."

"If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things have passed away, and behold, all things have become new."