another room

I stopped by to see Mbamie and her kids the other day and drove up to a crowd of teenagers bubbling with tension and violence. At first I didn't know if I should take our kids out of the car, but then I saw apartment managers and employees and that the crowd was dissipating- the police shortly arrived. Apparently this happens all the time and it's not the kids living in the complex, which at this point has a very high percentage of refugees living there, but it is across from one of the local high schools and has a courtyard, so I guess the highschoolers figure it's a great place to fight. It's not fair for those who live there and what a sight for all our newly arrived guests trying to make this place their home. I love their perspective though. Here they are coming to America to flee real serious war and fighting and they witness the squabbles of a bunch of teenagers.

A congolese woman asked why the kids were fighting that day. One of Mbamie's nieces told her a hispanic kid called another kid a "niger". Congo lady says- "yeah AND?-- you mean that's why they were fighting? Who cares if someone calls me, us, him a niger? I am a niger! God made me black and if they have a problem with it, they need to take it up with God. Why get upset over them saying the truth, what I am, negre (black)" The nieces tried to explain what they have been told regarding the connotations of the term going back to slavery issues and Congo lady rolls her eyes and says "please!!!" (I have to admit that the French translation for niger does not hold all the venom that it seems to have in English- but it was humorous none the less and does put things in perspective).

This is one of the few places in Abilene where you can see a teen carrying a baby sibling slung on her back with an African "pagne" cloth. We have so much to learn from these people who have been through so much, if we would only get over our petty issues and listen.

Mbamie amazes me. Today the local rescue vehicle that got her here called her in to tell her the date her husband will arrive (the 11th or 12th of Sept!!!) Her housing, which is government subsidized told her to come with the date when she had it. She applied for a bigger apartment and already paid the transfer fee. We get there and they say they don't have anything there. She argued that there are 3 four bedroom apartments available and she would get one. They said they weren't available. I'm heading for the door- looks like there's no solution here and she is making herself comfortable in the chair- we'll stay until I get what I came for- she says. I'm asking her what should I say to them. She said the other people those apartments are for, have they paid the transfer money? They have? Well they haven't signed a lease, so you can still give one to me. We end up being ushered to the back where we are told again by some higher up that there is nothing available. Mbamie starts calling off apartment numbers- apt. 204 has 4 bedrooms and has been vacant forever, as well as the one next to it. The higher up tells us those are not in the system as they need extensive repairs. Mbamie keeps on... the apartment next to her brother's is free and she tells me the saga story about the women and kids who were moved to something smaller. Suddenly the higher up asks me if Mbamie's name is... She happens to remember that she had an apartment reserved for her and gets on the phone giving permission to her repair guy to work the next day. Mbamie's 4 bedroom should be ready tomorrow or Wed. at the latest giving her time to transfer utilities and move over the weekend so that her husband can come to America and a home with room for him. Then the higher up brings up another detail. Does he have paperwork? He has to have paperwork in order to get into the gov. system (which he can't possibly have immediately). Again, Mbamie digs in and argues laboriously until the higher up figures out a way to work the system to allow him to come and stay at her home and not at some hotel after years of not seeing each other. Apparently you have to give the government a permission slip so much as to have a sleep over in these places.

Why are the poor so beaten down? They don't have the stamina. They've been taught the doors will shut and not open, but that is not always the case. It's amazing what can be accomplished when someone just stays there until a way is found. Mbamie will move ahead and forward because she has learned to fight for what should be hers, for the important things. The teens were fighting over name calling while Mbamie fights for the reunion of her family after nearly four long years, war, incredible distances and what seemed like insurmountable odds.

An uphill battle

Mbamie got some good news a few days ago... her husband was told by immigration in Africa that he is leaving Sept. 7th for the USA. This has been many years in the making. Mbamie and her husband and 2 small kids will finally be reunited after war tore their family and home apart.

Then she got bad news... her husband's sister died suddenly. She is the only sibling who knew he was to leave, the one that was going to take over his home and the responsibility of his two grown children (ages 19 and 21, but in the African culture are still considered dependents while in school). He can't go to Togo where the funeral will be because he is already in immigration processes to come here. The family including his grown children don't know he is about to immigrate. He is the oldest and would be expected to take part. Mbamie is scared that he will try to help with funeral stuff and never make it here, ruining any work done with immigration to reunite them.

Pray for Mbamie, her husband, all his family and a 12 year old girl who has lost her mom. May they receive comfort through their intense grief. May Mbamie's husband find solutions to the problems that have arisen through this and maintain understanding and peace with his family through his departure.

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

Meanwhile, I ran across a difficult situation with Mpasteur, Mbamie's brother. He is a pastor and the most manipulative and the least trustworthy of the 4 siblings that I have met. I have great relationships with the other 3 African refugees, but I don't trust Mpasteur due to the way he has demonstrated a total lack of communication with his daughters and due to his ways of manipulation. Case in point: when he wants me to do something for him, he starts to call me "sister", "aunt" or some such flattery. It totally irks me. I've told him and he got better about it. I told him if he wants to ask for something, just ask.

Well, he asked me to come to his grand opening worship service for his church group. I know for a fact that he has always had hopes that I would translate for their group. I do love the faith of African christians and love this family, but I am not so sure about Mpasteur or about joining any organized religious group. I wouldn't mind visiting sometime or even meeting to pray or share together, but I fear that they'd think we were joining or something if we just came once.

I said I'd pray about if I should attend and he said that I needed to come because he wanted his pastor friends to see how diverse their group was and they would want to meet his family and friends. That did it for me, I'm outta here! Why do groups need warm bodies to feel validated? He didn't really care if I was there, he just cared about how good it would look if we came and what we could offer them. What if I looked like Frieda next door or talked like Meshell? Would he still want me at his service and be introducing me to his friends? I told him we didn't want to be paraded around and that the Lord was calling us to not pray on the corner, but in the closet and to not display the works we do. I got a blank stare. I don't think I can even explain what's in my heart, but it's not another marketing filled show to display to those they want/need to impress in order to prove that they are doing something worthwhile.

Why? Why? Why?

Jessie has moved out again. Her friend (Elizabeth) and her friend's boyfriend moved back and the foursome (with Jessie's boyfriend) decided to get a place together (again). Ironically, they are moving back into the house they were last in, since it was vacant. Every few weeks it seems Jessie moves. The last time the foursome was in a place it was real bad. Elizabeth's boyfriend does drugs and the couple doesn't get along. Although Jessie can't seem to put her foot down about staying away from a cheating boyfriend, she does put her foot down about the drugs and won't participate or tolerate it in the house (so she says). I asked her today what makes her think it will be any different this time. She just shrugged.

Her mom Frieda is getting worn out with the coming and going, being left with Jessie's babysitting jobs, constantly changing her home to accommodate Jessie and at times her boyfriend, helping her move or getting her what she needs for a new home... She told her daughter she can't keep going back and forth.

I was asking the Lover why Jessie would stay with her boyfriend and keep welcoming him back when she has admitted on several occasions that he is no good for her.

Then a memory came to me. I was in the 7th grade and our class was at an end of the year skating party. A total loser from class asked if I wanted to skate with him. We held hands and skated around the rink. He would switch between me and my friend. He was also a total jerk. He made racial and sexual slurs. He had stabbed a kid at school with a horse needle, put some crap in the teacher's desk and thrown our class' "good samaritan box" at a kid's head, causing injury. But here my friend and I were holding hands with this creep and blissfully skating with him. As we got in the bus, the other boys in the class (who had more respect for ourselves than we did) asked why we would skate with the jerk. We shrugged our shoulders, much like Jessie did the other day.

I guess for those few laps, we could forget the truth that on the other end of the hand was someone who tore us down, who spewed venom and destroyed people and we just lived in the moment, enjoying being asked, of being "with" someone, of having some level of connection with another human being and nothing more.

Getting ready for school

Meshelle's son missed a lot of school last year. Why? Because they moved. They moved a lot. They moved so much the system refused to keep changing the bus route for him despite the fact that his mom had no car. He nearly missed registration for school. Meshelle's not real swift or organized or capable and she has a speech impediment. I think people get impatient with her a lot. After a huge run-around and lots of misinformation, the grace of the CEO for us to arrive in time, he got registered. They gave her a list of the supplies he needs. She had bought some supplies already. The middle class mind asks why she would buy stuff before she knows what he needs. Now she has no money to buy what the list actually says. The reason is that when there is not enough money to go around, you have to buy things when the money is there and not wait, or else it'll be all gone to other needs.

Meshelle's son has half his supplies, which is more than Jenny and Sebastian down the street. I asked if they were excited to start back to school. They said yes, except they don't have school supplies. Jenny defended herself saying she had supplies. Sebastian argued with her saying she didn't and she retorted that she'll just use what she had left over from last year.

I remember trying to help princess' cousin once with some homework that was sent home because he'd been sick for a week. It was infuriating. The work was fairly advanced (he was in middle school), but I quickly figured out he could barely read. He was supposed to find the river and color it blue. It took us 25 minutes to find something that he could write with and it wasn't blue. I was trying to have him do the work, but ended up making notes all over his work as to why he didn't have a blue marker here, or a green or red and explaining to the teacher that he did indeed show me the river.

School is just geared for middle class... from the supplies, to the methods (sitting and listening), to the tactics (tests writing, essays, three points...). Ruby Payne's book A Framework for Understanding Poverty exposes how the poverty class' culture does not prepare them for school at all.

I don't know what the solutions are, but it dawned on me that my school growing up didn't have any kids from poverty. We were all middle and upper class. There was no cafeteria, or a lunch program. Kids struggled with huge issues, but "what was for supper" was not one of them. I feel for these kids who have to go Monday without all the stuff others will have and at the same time wonder why is it like that at all? How did school starting up become a fashion show of new clothes, new binders and bookbags and supplies?

we don't have a choice

I facilitate a water aerobic class for pregnant women. Invariably, only middle and upper class women attend. I'm thinking it's a cultural thing (the class used to be free and is now at a decent price). I've only had about 4 women come who were from the poverty economic level and none of them lasted longer than a month. After having been mainly among the poor, it was weird at first to be back in a clearly middle class group.

A common conversation came up again last night at class. The majority of women in the class work and will continue to work after having their babies. About 10-20% of the women will stay at home. One of the working moms (a teacher) was lamenting over the fact that she had to go back to work and was racked with guilt as her daughter cries and says she wants to stay at home with her mom (like they have all summer). She told me they both start each day in tears. Her husband is a firefighter. I don't have any numbers with me here, but I'm thinking he makes pretty good money. Well, pretty good as in more than we've ever seen our entire 9 years of marriage.

So there is the supreme irony and the sad tale of our society. The irony being that they lament to me that they have no other option but to work and earn money, while the agent and I make so ridiculously little money that if the ladies knew, they would be shocked beyond belief- but I get to stay home with my kids and they "HAVE TO" work . (I am recognizing in this that the Lover has been very gracious to us in providing and in making up for what we have not being able to afford). The sad tale is that our materialism tells us we have to make huge sacrifices in order to maintain a certain lifestyle. All of the women who work, but would rather stay home say that they have no other choice but to work. Our riches tell us that it is not a choice to do without, to decrease, downsize...

There is a great expression in French that does not translate fully:

L'embarras des richesses. (The embarassement of wealth- but it means more than being embarassed, it carries with it the connotation of being burdened by our wealth).

The ones I have seen the most free are those with the least. We've had homeless people open their backpacks and give us 1 of their only 20 possessions on earth. So humbling. But if I think we may move- I'm already thinking I'll need a U-haul and the nightmare of moving and what about appliances or furniture? I like them. They are nice. We may not get such nice ones elsewhere. I don't want to be owned by what I have. I want to be free to give and be generous and be as light as a feather to go when I need to go, but the more I have, the harder it becomes.

(No, we aren't moving- but we contemplate it ever few months, coinciding with the habitual drainage of our account).

I am not saying all this in judgment of working moms and I realize that some people (single moms for example) really don't have a choice. I'm just saying that it doesn't have to be as black and white as some families think it is and that our wealth can be a deceitful trap locking us away from great riches.

the princess files

There is something terribly wrong. A singular event keeps coming up over and over in Princess' life. I thought she'd talked about it. I thought someone knew what has happened to her, I mean more than just her and the perpetrators. But I'm finding out, she doesn't talk about stuff to not only me, but neither to her mom or either of her sisters. I started digging a little the other day. No one knows what happened that day, the day she got a record, the day she was accused when she should have been defended. I'm not saying she's all innocent, but that something critical happened. She refuses to talk about it. I may have clues and the wherewithal to figure out a little. I realized that I have bits and pieces that were unknown to others in the family. Revelations are being made to add to the picture. CEO direct this search for the truth. There is a little girl lost inside princess who needs to find a way home.

I've never told Princess the pieces I know about, because I was hoping that she would open up. She hasn't, in 9 years she's locked off the world, friends, her family to what is hurting inside. I'm wondering if I should start laying down my cards and showing her that I'm not the idle ignoramus she thinks I am, that I know some of what has been going on. I'm afraid she'll shut down even more or feel threatened and back away... but then again, there's not much depth to our relationship anyways. Will she trust me with her heart? Her story? Will she have the courage to face it herself?

She's supposed to write her life story and present it. So far, she's mentioned all sorts of stuff around her (murders and such) that have occurred in her hood and was told by her case worker that she was lying. In essence, she's failed this portion of her progress and can't move on until she starts sharing about what has happened to her to make her who she is now. I'm realizing that she's never opened up that part of herself to anyone. She may have even shut herself off from it. Lord help us.

from the homeless guy

This is just too good of a post not to pass it on...

http://thehomelessguy.wordpress.com/2007/08/13/wagons-ho/

princess mystery

Princess is a mystery to me. She's so cold, so unempathetic. And I don't think her "I don't care" attitude is all teenagehood. I think it's an elaborate mechanism to shield her from her own feelings of low self-worth and desperateness. I keep praying that the Lover will bring down the walls between us and get us to a place of being able to share and really talk about the things that matter. Every once in a while, the impossible happens and we are in a moment of honest sharing, but mostly she just sets up her guard and reinforces it and locks herself in.

She relishes in putting down others and putting on the show of hood talk and behavior. Then again, maybe it's not a show. Maybe it's all she knows.

And yet she's at a place where chinks have formed in her armor. She told me that another of her friends was just locked up in TYC (juvenile jail). She commented that there were 3 of them who hung out together growing up and that 2 are now locked up and the other dead. She told me she's been dreaming about her murdered friend. That this friend has visited her in her room and moved things.

Her mom called me when we'd gotten home, wondering how the visit had gone and if her daughter had gotten snacks ('cause that's important). I told her how princess acted so disenchanted with everything and with us. So her mom pulled out another label and tried it on: "well she does have multiple personalities". I've heard this one a few times lately from her mom, but I don't think it fits. Her mom is always trying to bail out her behavior with an excuse: depression, ADD, ADHD, now split personalities.

All I know is that I can't give up on her. The lover won't let me. So many times I feel like I have not been a sincere or true friend to others. That I've "loved" them for what I could get out of the relationship or have just wanted another notch of "witnessing" or "evangelizing" or "ministering" in my belt loop. She's different. The Lover gave me a dream that Satan was after princess and that as I prayed (in tongues), she was delivered. I cling to this hope because I can sense and see the darkness of her life, the hopelessness- reinforced in the statements and attitudes of the judges, caseworkers, teachers who have reiterated that Princess is doomed to delinquency.

Princess has been dealt so many wrong cards in life, I've actually argued with the Lover about it. How can anyone have such a rotten family history, have so many problems, have so many issues and environment and culture... all pitted against her... like there is no other choice but to follow this path that seems all too plain before her.

I can't let go of her. I picture her as a part of my family, of my lineage, of my life chain. I can't stop loving her or reaching out to her, no matter how little response I get. If I fail every other "ministry" type relationship, I can't fail this one. She's not a number or statistic to me. She's like an adopted child, a friend. The Lover laid down his life for us and I wonder if I can lay down my life for another, if I can love that sacrificially- as I know other Christians are doing all over the world- loving their enemies, praying for those who persecute them, giving kindness when they've been beaten. Princess is not my enemy, just a hurt and trouble kid who doesn't seem to have a chance. But no matter what it looks like, there is another way and love never fails.

Inspired and Challenged

Thanks to new mom for recommending Sir Gibbie by George MacDonald. That's not the name agent B uses for her, but I'm being lazy and not double checking. She knows who she is ;) Anyways, the book is so right on! It's a novel and the only rough part is that most of the dialogue is written in scottish brogue. The book is about 400 pages long and it took me until half way through to start really getting the hang of it. This novel is about a kid who is extremely selfless and giving, but doesn't talk. His mere presence exposes the heartlessness of others and the hypocrisy of the religious. He has a giving, loving heart that seeks the best of others as he tries to live like Jesus. It exposes people's attitudes towards others who seem more simple minded, and of the poor and the homeless. One of the most powerful parts to me was how the author constantly described people acting how our society would consider normal or business savvy and calling their love of money idolatry- which it was. Sir Gibbie could and did live off of nothing and was totally happy and continued to look out for others rather than his own needs. It made the call of Christ to love seem so simple... just living each day in the faith that the CEO will care for our needs and seeking His ways and loving others. I am seeing more and more how our riches are what make things complicated. The more I have, the more I need to take care of it, the harder it is to be mobile and the more there is to "protect"- not that that should be our attitude, but sometimes that is what happens in my heart. Anyways, I highly recommend the book.

We are also being challenged by the movie: Frisbee, about a hippie who was used powerfully by God and abused by the church. He was instrumental in the Jesus movement of the 1970s, in the formation of the Calvary Chapel church and the Vineyard churches, but is hardly known since he was pretty much written out of their histories- the reason being that he died of AIDS, having contracted it through homosexual relations while in ministry. He died shunned and rejected by many of his closest mentors and coworkers. Again, this video was powerful in that it shows how the church is (sometimes) willing to reach out to drug users and sexually promiscuous people, but has such a strong stance against homosexuals that there is no room for them to find healing, understanding or the love of Christ.

Another sad part of the documentary was how it showed the church so focussed on the masses that it misses the person. We know the Shepard is the opposite. He leaves the 99 to go for the 1. I need to learn that. How often was I disappointed that ONLY one came to the club this summer instead of being thankful to have such quality time with her.

Have you seen the video? How did you feel about it and about the issues it raises?

I was most humbled by Lonnie Frisbee's deep longing and passion for the Lover. He did crazy things out of simple love. Reminds me of King David. I think we have been generally horrid to leaders when they fail and yet the Bible is full of leaders with faults- murderers, adulterers, incestuous people- and how God loves, calls and redeems them over and over and over again. That gives me lots of hope.

the Prov.31 woman

I've never really liked her. When I was younger, she was some kind of super woman read about at church and meetings. She was beautiful, talented, a business-woman and mother and wife- all perfectly. At least that's how she seemed. That was our goal- I always felt it was totally unattainable. I'm sure some guy wrote this. Maybe it was as a letter to praise his wife. It's always made me feel like I would never measure up. If someone read it to me, I felt like a fake- like get real, I could never be like HER!

I mean at least society's cover models, we all know are fake. They are airbrushed, often anorexic, not "real" people due to the way they are presented and if you look very far, their lives are often a mess. So I don't feel too much pressure to live up to their ideals although I know a lot of women and teens get caught in that trap. But the Prov.31 woman seemed to have it all.

I've been trying to seek the Lover to know if an idea I had is from him. The idea is something I could do from home to make some extra cash. As I've thought of it, I thought I'd be a little more like the Prov. 31 woman- helping her family financially. So I read it this morning and realized... that I don't want to be her!

She sounds like a total workaholic. She gets up before dawn to work, stays up late, doesn't sleep as far as I can tell and does EVERYTHING. I know people like that. I have friends like that- moms, scrambling, working, momming, doing it all for a buck.

I'm sure that is not the impression the writer was trying to leave, I'm just saying how I read it. And for the first time, I had peace reading about her- even compassion and a sense of warning- to keep in balance what is most important. Yeah, we need money for bills and food, but the most important thing is not possessions or getting ahead, but spending the time I have with the Lover and with my kids and with my husband and with others.

So I'm praying that if/as I venture down this new path for income, which I'm actually kind of excited about, that I will be able to worship and love and honor the Lover through it and truly be a blessing to my home and family through it.