Another visa denied

There are few things that frustrate me more right now than the U.S. visa system. I will begin with the newest disappointing story I heard. Yesterday after church, I was talking to Pastor Enrique about his family and asked where his wife was. He told me that she had gone to Mexico to get her 87 year-old father a visa to visit their family in the states. The old man's wife, Alicia's mother, is also living with their family in Chatham County. So Alicia took her old father to the U.S. embassy to say, "This is my father and I came back to Mexico to get him. He's coming home with me to visit the rest of our family and his wife." They denied him a tourist visa to visit his family. My assumption is that they figured he would go to the U.S. and stay. And even if he did? He's 87 and certainly not going to fill up a job that "belongs to an American." At the very most he might use health resources he's not paying for (although his family is through taxes). Although I believe he completely deserves that, simply because his daughter does laundry at a hotel, his son-in-law pastors a Latino church and makes $16,000 a year, and also he has probably worked some job in Mexico from which Americans have benefitted in the form of cheap labor or goods. I say, "Thank you, compadre, we would be honored to host you in our country and wish you and your family a happy reunion. Let me say this again, his son-in-law is a pastor. That means he's keeping young kids off the street and men out of bars and leading a healthy environment focused on God and positive family environments. And they wouldn't let him in.

I won't continue for tonight. I'll save similar stories, and my personal visa situation, for another day. I just wanted to bring back the blog because I'm a woman with a lot on my mind and not enough ways to sort through it all.

Buenas noches.

Why I want to adopt

I came across this great video today about a boy's orphanage in west Detroit. It's heart-warming to hear about their experiences there and to see their determination to control their behavior and anger and to always persevere with their goals. While it still breaks my heart to see them in a flawed system, as just a small number of the 18,000 youth in orphanages in Michigan, I can't help but think that, according to edmundriceinternational.org, 700 kids sleep on the streets of Buenos Aires every night, and thousands roam the city every day begging for coins, often for an adult they are working for or so their parents can buy paco (the cheapest version of cocaine).

Today I was walking alongside a waterfront in Puerto Madero after leaving the library at la Universidad Católica de Argentina and saw two children walking alongside each other, each less than 3 feet tall, without shoes and clearly without bathing for a long time. What was so striking about these two young boys was that they moved about and interacted with each other as if they were 17-year-old boys. I'm not sure how else to describe it other than they had the mannerisms of people twice their age and twice their height. It was hard to miss the juxtaposition of these two street kids walking over a beautiful cobblestone path alongside flashy restaurants and happy couples and friends posing for pictures along this charming waterfront.

Minutes later, as I sat down along the curb to contemplate whether or not I should buy an ice cream from the shop meters away, a man approached me and asked me politely, yet meekly for a piece of my time, with a slightly frightened look as if I might snap at him. He started explaining to me about this magazine he was selling for 3 pesos, or about $0.80, that exists to use the proceeds to give opportunities to street kids so that they don't have to beg for money. Although I'm still not sure what he meant by that, I bought a magazine anyways (there were pretty photos). After awhile he felt comfortable enough to sit down beside me and even introduce himself. I'd definitely say he's one of the nicer people I've met in the city.

Well I didn't end up buying the ice cream, but that's irrelevant and had more to do with the fact that I just didn't want to spend the money (but really, US$4 for a small???) Anyways, I've been thinking about adoption ever since high school when I learned about Compassion International (compassion.com) that let's you sponsor a child for a certain donation each month to provide them with education, food, and other basic necessities. This world has everything we could need to sustain each human body in it, but resources are so badly distributed and hoarded by a small percentage of the world. Right now I feel so full from dinner that it's kind of uncomfortable (french fries and fried fish....Marieta and I just had a discussion about how I don't want her to buy fried food anymore and she was really surprised and said, "But I thought you'd like it since you're American"). I feel guilty. The guilt of the "haves." I think I'm gonna start bringing extra food with me to give out. I'm not quite sure why it took me 2 months to get to this point, but if I'm so unsure against giving out money for fear of supporting someone's drug habit, a healthy food is a great alternative.

Noting the above statement, I realize that I tend to end my more pensive blog posts with some sort of tangible way to apply what I've learned. So for me, I'll say that this week I'll buy more fruit at the fruitería in the mornings to give out as I go along during my day. And I will be praying about adoption. How will you respond?

Quiero conocer tu corazon

The city is treating me pretty well. I'm finally starting to fall into somewhat of a routine since now I've decided upon my classes. In case anyone had their doubts about whether I would have a legitimate academic experience here, let me tell you that it's very different, but surely difficult. In 3 of my 4 classes I have more reading assigned each week than I would normally have in my classes in the states, plus it's all in Spanish, so I'm, honestly for the first time, learning how to deal with the heavy loads of work, trying to skim the readings efficiently yet take away the main ideas. There's never enough time in the day! I think the reason each day is so short is that so we'll choose wisely what to do with our time. This week I've been editing photos taken by other individuals for an NGO here called Pilotos Solidarios that was started by this compassionate doctor here, who goes by motorcycle to isolated communities that are unaccessible by car and brings them medical care and other things that improve their quality of life. You can check em out on YouTube. So I just made a slide show of the edited photos for an event they are having tomorrow night at a local bar to raise money for their program. I wish I could go, but I'm pretty stoked about what im doing instead! Tomorrow I'm leaving for the weekend (not too far, somewhere nearby in the province) for a women's retreat with my church here. Two weeks ago they had a men's retreat and now it's our turn :). I'm looking forward to getting to talk to the women and get to know them better, because I probably only know about 8 or so at the church.

And before I sign out, I want to leave you all with the wise, kind words that my friend Amanda, one of the freshman girls who was in my bible study last year, shared with me yesterday. "Your identity is not in what you wear, the activities you do, or the job you have. It's in the way you love people and emit God's love to the world!"

I'm pretty much overwhelmed with all the blessings in my life! Que sean bendicciones al mundo!

A month in...

Hey friends and fam! I am pleased to inform you that I have not fallen off the face of the earth, only down to the southern hemisphere. I have been in Buenos Aires for just over a month now. After 2 1/2 weeks of orientation, visiting different Universities, and an extremely disorganized and overwhelming class registration process, I am finally about to start my third week of classes. There is one more week of a shopping period during which time I am trying classes in three different universities. Classes are long (usually 3 or 4 hours), with a 15 or 30 minute break halfway through. One of the private universities I am studying at has a lovely modern architecture and is composed of 3 buildings that are alongside a beautiful water front called Puerto Madero, which is near some of the classiest bars and restaurants in the city. I have a class called "Political and Economic Geography of Argentina" and "Compared American Revolutions" there. The first class is mainly Argentine students and the second one, which I am still deciding on keeping, is specifically for foreign students. I am trying 3 different classes at the most renowned public university in Buenos Aires, although it can hardly be compared to the wonderful public university that I call my home back in the States. UBA has buildings for different majors spread out all over the city, and at the moment I have class in the Philosophy and Social Sciences ones. Graffiti decorates the outside of the buildings and almost every classroom. The inside is filled with posters demanding that the school remains unaffected by inflation or that show the face of a recently disappeared youth. This Monday I start my class called "The crisis of capitalism and its consequences in Argentina" with a professor who has a leading role with the Worker's Party in Argentina. I'm really hoping that I'll like that class, because the others that I have tried there have yet to live up to their titles.

Don't worry, I dont think I'll be coming back a Marxist, but certainly with some more open perspectives on things. I have learned so much already despite the fact that classes are just now starting.

More fun things: Ya'll know me and know that it doesn't take much time for me to get busy with activities. My second weekend here I went on a retreat with youth and young adults from a church in the province of Buenos Aires and had a great time and translated from Spanish into English during the sermon on Saturday night, since there was a group of about 25 Americans there. A guy who I had met briefly last year here saw on my Facebook that I was in Buenos Aires and invited me to come to his church and asked me to come to the camp to translate. I am so lucky to have met such an awesome community of Christians in Buenos Aires, and have really enjoyed hanging out with them since.

I have gone to listen to live jazz music twice, once in a library/cafe and another time in this semi-secret house/bar that you wouldn't know about unless you're deep in the music scene (thanks to my very talented musician friend). Tonight I'm going to another friend's band's concert. I've found a rock climbing gym here that I've gone to once. I will also be doing some volunteer work here with photography, which actually plays out pretty comically because I will be photographing some events in bars as humanitarian work. How does that make sense? Well it's a new bar that's hosting benefit events for some local NGOs.

Additional random updates: I got a nose piercing (Mom, even you'd like it). It's a super cute little green stud. I went to get pierces one night after a Spanish-placement exam with two other American friends. Just wanted to throw that out before I got home. Ok so this is just an enormous city and I've never considered myself a city girl, but I'm really loving it here. I do miss my people in the States and my friends dispersed across the globe (shout-out to Mexico, Spain, Italy, Jordan, Benin and Thailand). But I must say that I feel at home here. Last year I said that I want to live here at some point, and look at me now. Today, I'm saying again that I would like to live here at some point (except I'm really torn between here and Mexico, but hey, who says you've gotta pick just one?), so we'll see what happens after graduation.

I send hugs and kisses in all directions and hope and pray for the best for all of you!! Keep dreaming and be pro-active!!!

Summer Unrest

I feel so old, even though I can't even legally drink. Among my girlfriends, none of us are actively pursuing an MRS degree, but today I discussed adoption with one and giving the maid of honor speech at my wedding with another.

I feel so young. We sit and stare into the Carolina Blue sky (good choice, God) and dream together about the endless possibilities, people, and places that our futures hold.

I don't ever want to stop dreaming.

I don't ever want to stop dancing.

I want to be the 60-something couple dancing to live jazz on the grass at Weaver St. Market, their hair poofy and grey and faces illuminated with the animation of children.

I want to keep cracking open watermelons on rocks near a creek in the woods and slurping them until my stomach's aching.

I want to be exactly who I am today.

A Healing Soldier, a Heartful Conversation

During my recent visit to the state of Iowa, I was so blessed to have met a 23-year-old man, we’ll call him Aaron, who serves in the National Guard and trained and fought in Iraq for about two years. At a glance, I couldn’t help but notice his tall, strong build, his big white truck that he had just bought that morning, and his humor that he wears on his sleeve. After talking for a while, it became evident that Aaron has many creative ideas and hopes for future businesses and investments—a very intelligent person.
Aaron and I got to have lunch together one day, during which time we shared ideas and stories about war and peace. Aaron told me several stories from his time in Iraq, about the machine that he was turned into as a designated marksman, and about how he lost his faith in God during his time there.
As the designated marksman, he was given full authority to shoot an enemy if he saw them even with just an automatic car key that had a button—anything that could potentially be used to detonate. After seeing some awful things done by Iraqi soldiers, Aaron found himself hoping that the people in his scope would pull out a similar tool of sorts, anything, just so that he could have a reason to shoot them.
As I sat across from this man, I saw the desperation of confusion reflected in his vibrant green eyes. I saw a loving person who was placed in a hellish environment that calls forth the worst in anyone—an environment that harnesses anger and fear and turns it into a hunger for justice—an environment that estranges one’s own reflection in a mirror.
“I used to be so strong in my faith,” Aaron told me. “I wanted to make sure that everyone knew about God. I used to be such a compassionate person.” He said that he just eventually stopped praying in Iraq. “Some people didn’t lose their faith,” he said. “Some were able to look at all the hurt and the evil and understand that there is a plan for all of it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see a way to justify it all.”
I told Aaron that he was precisely right in not justifying the evil that he saw and perpetrated with the often over-used phrase “I know God has a bigger plan.” I didn’t try to comfort him with this phrase either. I would be lying through my teeth and serving as a false witness to God if I had done so.
I surely hope that Aaron will find a good reason to rediscover his faith again—now that he is out of battle, now that he has started to overcome PTSD, now that he has courage to ask what is good.
I’m glad that Aaron didn’t find his strength in war by praying that God would bless and keep his hands that killed, because I don’t believe that the God of the Bible does that. I believe that God sent Jesus to Earth as an example for us to follow. WWJD? He wouldn’t kill. When he was beaten, he turned the other cheek, not because he was weak, but because love overcomes evil. Jesus let them kill him, and then he overcame death.
So what should we do when our nation asks us to go to war, to kill, to defeat evil? First, we should ask ourselves to whom we answer: to God or to America. If the answer is America, then going to a state-mandated war is disobedience to God in the form of idolatry (just as many things could be, ie: the church, a substance, an education, a job…) If the answer is God, then we must answer to God in the form of obedience, which manifests itself as trying to follow the righteousness and holiness in which Jesus walked—a life of radical love that overcame evil—in any situation we face, even if that is during a time of war.
At this point, Aaron is unsettled by violence, which has taken a toll on his body, his mind and his faith. And that’s the first step in becoming a peacemaker.

My [Un] Patriotic Mantra

My Twitter friend and favorite author, Shane Claiborne, had a live interview with CBS one morning while he was in Baghdad as a peacemaker (story told in his and Chris Haw's book "Jesus for President"). They asked him what he thought about America and they hung up on him in the first minute. Curious if Shane and his friends had committed treason, they later inquired if they were "traitors." Shane wrote them the following response:

"Traitor?

If this bloody, counterfeit liberation is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If depleted uranium is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If US sanctions are American... I am proud to be un-American.

If the imposed 'peace' of Pax Americana is American... I am proud to be un-American.

But if grace, humility, and nonviolence are American... I am proud to be American.

If sharing to create a safe, sustainable world is American... I am proud to be American.

If loving our enemies is American... I am proud to be American.

Regardless, I would die for the people of New York, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world.

I would die for the people of Baghdad, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world. I will stand in the way of terror and war... my kingdom is not of this world.

I will pledge an allegiance deeper than nationalism, to my God and to my family... my kingdom is not of this world. I will use my life to shout, 'Another world is possible' ... for my kingdom is from another place. 'My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight... but now my kingdom is from another place' (Jesus; John 18:36)."

Thanks, Shane, for writing that so eloquently and clearly. Today, and every day that I see an American flag or hear talk of the military, I find myself moving further and further from patriotism. Let's look back at how America achieved its reputation as the great, the rich, the powerful, and the free. Ever since the days our founding fathers, America has encroached upon the freedom, well-being, and resources of others to secure its own. As far as I can remember, this has never been a good strategy of making friends. However, many are still drawn to this sexy, alluring beast that is America. "Come sit, come dine, come taste our fine wine," she invites. We are drawn. We approach the table, only to realize that the seats are limited, and there are many of us. Pushing and shoving ensues as we fight over a seat at the table of wealth and satisfaction. Although the seats are filled, we wait, because we see the guests at the table drinking the sweet wine, laying their heads on the table, and drifting to sleep. Once in a deep slumber, they get carried away by men dressed in uniform, and there's a space open at the table, so we begin to push again, so that we may have a taste, just so that we can know, because with watching, you can only fantasize.

Don't taste the wine, friends. In fact, don't even approach the table. There are green pastures and fresh air on the other side of the door. There are tie-dye t-shirts instead of red, white and blue ones. There are washing machines powered by stationary bikes and centers where kids and adults sit side-by-side to create music and art. There is no need, because everyone shares their resources. There is no wine to allure you (although we can make it out of water in an instant), but you can smell the aroma of coffee that was fairly traded.

Come play with us. Come and create with us. Come, and let's live the dream that another world is possible.