Dogs are awesome. Slobbery toys are gross.

I love my dog.  Actually I am kinda obsessed with her.  I love dog shaming; it makes me laugh.  I also love spoiling her rotten.  Everyday I tell Eva she is the prettiest, smartest, most majestic dog that ever existed.  But mostly I am obsessed with my dog because of her ability to live each day full of happiness and gratitude.

She eats the same thing for breakfast and dinner everyday.  Two scoops.  Yesterday I whined about having to eat leftover soup because I was too lazy to go to the store to buy something else.  I play the same games with Eva everyday.  We either go outside with the Chuckit (don’t say that word if you don’t mean it) or I sit on the couch and throw a toy up in the air and she catches it and brings it back.  She would be perfectly content and grateful to do that all day, everyday.  I become annoyed and bored out of my mind in the first five minutes.

But Eva lives in the present.  All she wants to do is spend time with me because she loves unconditionally.  Sometimes I get irritated with her and snap.  Earlier today she dropped her dirty ball on my couch and I told her to go away.  She just sat in front of me and dropped her head in shame until I told her everything was okay.  Then she began to furiously wag her tail because she is so thrilled I patted her head.  And she always forgives my temper immediately.  Her forgiveness does not have stipulations.  She forgives me because she loves me and it is as simple as that.

Eva just not contain her love to only myself or a few select people.  She is not shy in giving or showing her affection.  When Eva sees people she loves she starts to uncontrollably cry and wag her entire back end because just the tail is not at all sufficient to show you how happy she is to see you.  It does not matter if she saw you earlier the same day or two weeks ago, she will greet you with exactly the same amount of enthusiasm.

I want to live my life full of the same amount of happiness, love and gratitude.  Sometimes I feel jealous about the things I don’t have.  But today I am grateful.  There will always be things that I don’t have, it is simply unavoidable.  But I can be filled with happiness, gratitude and love for the many blessings I do have.  Today I can live in the present and not think about the things that happened yesterday, last month or last year that I wish I could change.  Today I can live in the present and not think about what I need to do to prepare for tomorrow, next month or next year.  Today I am going to throw the toy for Eva to catch over and over again until it becomes a disgusting slobbery mess.  I will be grateful for the soup in the fridge and the ability to throw slobbery toys.  I will quickly and unconditionally forgive people and hope they will do the same for me.  I will be grateful for the unconditional love of my dog and for my life which is full of many, many blessings. 

Being Present

I live in a small town where the pace of life is slow.  Growing up I was caught between loving and resenting it at the same time.  I would complain that there was never anything to do; there was no "culture."  I live on the lower eastern shore of Maryland, about 2 to 3 hours from D.C., Baltimore and Philadelphia.  In high school my friends and I would road trip it to the cities for concerts and shopping.  I loved those excursions but always complained about the drives.  What I failed to realize was that the drives are what I now cherish most.  It was during the drives that my friends and I shared and connected.

I went away to a small university in Charlotte, N.C.  I wanted to escape from the "bubble" of the Eastern Shore and would never return.  I was scornful of classmates who stayed or transferred into our local university.  I thought there was so much world to see and they were missing out.  I loved my university years.  My school gave me so much.  It taught me to embrace and experience the world.  I traveled to several countries in those years doing a variety of different work.  It taught me how to live with integrity. It taught me to be mindful and critical of myself and my surroundings.  It taught me to make the world a better place and made me a better person.  My university was able to accomplish this because it was small, rooted in community and put an emphasis on relationships.

In university I was obsessed with getting awesome grades and being involved.  I had very little free time and was constantly on the move.  I loved how filled my days were.  If my planner had gaps I would find something to fill the time with.  I filled my time with school work and "good deeds."  I put in countless hours volunteering on the national committee of an organization working to end genocide around the world through political advocacy.  I filled my time with emails, strategic planning and conference calls.  I was happy and fulfilled.  I was making a difference.

Then I moved to Guatemala.  I went hoping to learn about structures, hoping to learn how to create a better world.  I wanted to change the world in big and concrete ways.  I still want to change the world in big and concrete ways but my ideas of how to do that drastically changed in Guatemala.  I have been back from Guatemala for almost three years now and I still reflect on my time there and find new lessons.  That single year continues to teach me to be a better person.  That is because Guatemala taught me how to live. 

I learned about pace of life.  I learned the importance of slowing down.  You see, when I was moving at full speed I missed connections.  I made mistakes.  I forgot to love.  The pace of life in Guatemala is slow.  Really slow.  I lived with a Guatemalan family and we were always late.  To everything all the time.  I don't mean 10 minutes late.  We would be hours late to work, meetings, parties, etc.  Sometimes we were late due to public transportation.  Usually it is because we were caught up chatting.  We were caught up making human connections.  But I did not realize this at first.  At first I struggled a lot with the culture.  I would get upset when we were late to meetings because we were wasting people's time.  I would get frustrated with my family and friend's reactions to life.  Life is hard in Guatemala.  There is a lot of injustice that would make me so angry, to which the Guatemalan's would respond with, "pobrecito" (poor thing) or "que feo" (how ugly).  I was angry that Guatemalans had become desensitized to the hardships of others because it was such a reality of life.

There is a lot to be critical of in Guatemalan society, but that is not the particular point I am trying to make today.  What I realized is that Guatemalans are not desensitized to the pain of others.  They feel it more acutely than I ever did.  What they did was make human connections.  I would get irritated over being late but failed to see it was because we were creating community.  My Guatemalan friends would sit down, ask someone how they were, and be present in the answer.  Strangers would actually  tell us about their life.  Both the joys and the hardships, which we would absorb that, and make apart of us.  The workshops we gave women on self-esteem, rights, or STDs were mildly helpful but the reason the women came, what filled their souls was the companionship.  It was the long conversations about everything and nothing.  It was about being present.

Living is not about what you accomplish.  It is about being present in the moment.  It is about making connections and and loving your neighbor.  It is about being present in every moment, and cherishing it for what it is.  Sometimes those moments are joyous, and other times painful.  It was this realization that caused me to move back to the Eastern Shore.  The one place I never thought I would end up.

I have struggled a lot with this decision.  Sometimes I think I am not being challenged.  I am taking the safe route.  Sometimes I feel embarrassed when I tell people I am living here again and working with my dad.  Embarrassed because I think people expected more from me.  People expected me to go out in the world and work for some incredible NGO that is doing wonderful things.  I expected this from myself.  I expected to live a life where my schedule is full every day with emails, strategical panning and conference calls.  I thought that was what would make me happy and fulfilled.

What makes me happy and fulfilled is living with integrity and loving my neighbor and I found, at this point in my life, I can do that best here.  When my days were full I forgot to make connections.  I hid behind my to-do list and when I asked how someone was and they answered with "fine" I never asked follow-up questions.  I told myself I did not have time to listen, but really I was hiding from their pain and their joy.  I work in a small office where I deeply love my co-workers.  We talk about our lives, the pain and the joy.  We listen to each other and share in each others feelings.  I still struggle with creating new relationships, they scare me which is why I used to hide.  But I know I am in the right place.  My life is slow.  I still have adventures, my job gives me time to travel and explore.  I still believe in creating big, concrete changes.  But I also believe those changes can start small.  It can start with honest relationships. 

In university I participated in civil disobedience and was arrested.  Right after this happened I struggled with what that experience meant and a professor I admire very much told me she was proud of me.  She told me that our lives are about our own actions.  We cannot control what other people do, we can't control what they do with our actions, but we can control our own actions.  I doubt I will win the Nobel Peace Prize but what I do strive for every day is starting my day with love.

Solidarity

Solidarity is a word I struggle with. It is a word that invokes beautiful and comforting feelings. Personally, I feel it has come to mean a variety of different things for people and organizations, making it over used and has lost some of the beauty. Just look it up on Wikipedia. But true solidarity is hard. Really hard. True solidarity means making difficult and costly sacrifices.  To me, it means taking genuine safety risks and making yourself uncomfortable alongside the oppressed. A person I admire once told me, as I was complaining about something that made me uncomfortable, get over it, it is good for you. And I try to remember those words everyday because if I am comfortable I am doing something wrong. It is when we are uncomfortable we learn and grow the most.

Being a Christian means making hard sacrifices. I once read there is no cheap grace and nothing could be more true. Over and over again Jesus makes this clear. The grace of God is limitless but it is not free. We have to take action in order to receive it. Jesus was a radical and lived radically, I am not yet in a place to be as radical as he was. But I also accept that my acknowledgement of this does not excuse me. So I work really hard at being radical in other ways, and making sacrifices that are uncomfortable and sometimes dangerous. So, I came to Colombia. Because that is what it means to follow Jesus.

In order to practice solidarity here in Colombia I have had to enter intone  a community as an outsider. As a well educated upper middle class white female. I will never fully understand what it is like to live in constant fear, to have to lower my voice and whisper when I speak about the government. I will never understand what it is like to be unable to fill my children's bellies or face the reality or possibility of homelessness. I will never understand what it is like to be violently torn from my home and deal with the violent and unnecessary death of child. But I can choose to walk with the people of Colombia, taking safety risks alongside those who are targets of the violence to truly seek solidarity. These risks are required of me because my love for my neighbor demands it.

At the same time the Colombians have taken such good care of me, and shown me more love and generosity than I have ever experienced. And I have experienced some love and generosity in the past. Mary Kay and I have been to 5 churches in 3 weeks and each time we are sincerely welcomed. We are given the biggest hugs, fed the largest plates of food and given fruits at every occasion. We are given the master bedrooms in our home stays and the best fans. The Colombians sacrifice a lot to have us in their communities. And yet they hardly see it as a sacrifice. They tell us it is a honor. And that is because their sense of hospitality far exceeds my own but also because our presence is important. Even though they constantly worry about our safety, and accompany us across the street to the store, the reality is that THEIR safety is our priority. By taking part in this program I am following the command of Jesus when he told us, "I will lay down my life for you, and you must do that for each other." Together, Mary Kay and I are practicing this type of solidarity with the Colombians, as they are with us.

On Accompaniment

Sometimes it is difficult to be an accompanier. Sure, sometimes we are physically uncomfortable or emotionally uncomfortable with the stories we hear. Sometimes we are uncomfortable because we don't know why we are hear. Sometimes when we are with our hosts, or in the churches chatting, laughing and experiencing the incredibly generous culture of Colombia we forget why this program is important. It has been easy for us to forget the quiet violence that is most prevalent in the areas of Urabá where we have been accompanying churches. We forget the most important part of this experience is simply to be seen.

Most displaced people we have met came from smaller, rural towns. The violence and fear they experienced is different than the type of violence that occurs in more "urban" centers. By urban I do not mean a city. I just mean they have a town center with several stores and a bank or two. In the rural areas guerrillas and paramilitaries will come into a community and tell everyone that their land is worth so much and they will pay them so much. If the people refuse the offer they will be killed. Sometimes families don't even get the option to flee. They are killed as guerrilla sympathizers. In the "urban" areas here the violence is not as large. Every few months the paramilitaries will send out lists informing people they are wanted for questioning. This is a death sentence. The claim the people are involved in the drug cartels, thieves, or guerrilla sympathizers. The majority of people killed are both men and women from the ages of 15 to 26. Once the paramilitaries are done in one city they will move on the another.

Most people are very hesitant to explain to us why they are displaced. We do not spend our days listening to heartbreaking tales of violence. The last few days have been spent in a lot of laughter and love. Mary Kay and I have both questioned our purpose here in Colombia and one point or another in the last two weeks. Then someone will make a small comment or we will have a conversation that reminds us there is still a necessity.

We stayed with one pastor for five days and spent most of our time sitting on the front porch.  From that porch we could see the house of a military informant, a police officer, solider, and paramilitary member. We have also heard about how pastors in all churches are targets and many have been killed. We heard that the paramilitaries went into a church during a service and took the pastor and 8 others and murdered them all. Luckily, the IPC has not experienced violence on that level. Another pastor admitted he does not feel he can preach about certain things, for his safety the safety of this members. The paramilitaries will often question pastors in the street then follow them to the service and follow them back to their house, watching.

Currently, most people we have talked to say that right now there is a calm. This does not mean they are hopeful that the violence is over. They realize that any day, for whatever reason, the violence might start again. When we hear these stories we remember how important it is just to be seen. Our continual presence sends a silent message. We are here. We are watching and we care. The word peace is never used by Colombians to describe any part of their country, but then we can't use the word peace to describe any part of the world. At least not the type of peace Jesus demands. 

To love your neighbor

I am not very good at loving my neighbor and I am much worse at loving my neighbor as myself. I try to follow this very simple command but I am selfish and prideful. They might be my two biggest flaws. I would not say I am egotistical but being kind and generous does not come naturally to me. It is something I consciously do, and as I become more conscious it becomes more natural. I do it because I believe in order to change the world we have to change ourselves as well. If I want a peaceful and just world I have to be kind and generous.

I have met a lady here in Colombia who is naturally kind and generous. Actually, most Colombians I have encountered are naturally kind and generous. I will call this woman Grace. Grace told me that when she lived in Cartegena she had a wonderful experience with God.  It was the end of the month and her husband, who is a pastor, is paid once a month. They had no money left and no food. All they had was a little bit of oatmeal, two eggs, and some onion. She made two tortillas from the oatmeal and scrambled the two eggs with onion. She made a plate for her husband and set hers to the side because she likes to wait to eat until after she is done cooking when she can relax. Her husband ate his plate and ran to the church to arrive early for the service. Before she had a chance to sit down to eat a man from the church came to the house and asked if she could give him some food because he did not have any and was very hungry. She thought for a minute and said a prayer to God and decided to give this man her food, not knowing if she would be able to get more. That afternoon, after church, a member showed up at her door with a small basket of food. It had a little bit of meat, rice, and some vegetables. Later that same day another person stopped by with two tamales. She said she learned in that moment that when you sacrifice a little God gives you much more in return.

Gracie's house is always hectic. People are always coming and going and many women will come and help her cook and clean up. I asked if this was because we were here and she said a lot of women whose husbands are having trouble finding work will come and help her and she sends them home with food for their families. Grace also said different accompaniers will leave clothing, which she gifts to different people. This church truly is a family and they truly love at least their church neighbors as themselves.

It is not always easy

There is very little more humbling than when someone opens up to you enough to tell you their story, especially when then story is painful to hear and 100 times more painful for the person to tell. We spent five days in a smaller town that will remain nameless for the safety of those we have met. The church in this town is very small, where just about all the members are displaced. Most of our time is spent sharing smiles, laughter, hugs and food. It is simple and joyful fellowship. But sometimes it is spent sharing moments so painful we don't know how to respond. Sometimes we hear stories so horrific we can't even understand. To even try would be incredibly egotistical. So we listen and we share.

While in this town we ate everyday in children's ministry that is funded by a larger organization but partnered with the IPC. The lady who cooks at the ministry is a member of the church. We will call her Amelia. She comes from a town from which many people are displaced. She has been displaced for 12 years and even today the violence continues. The Presbyterian Church used to be big and active, but know it is disorganized, contains very few members and does not have a permanent pastor. The pastor from the town where we were goes there often to help with services but he told us it was to dangerous for us to accompany him. One afternoon, while sitting on the porch and chatting, she told us her story. It was unexpected, heartbreaking, and humbling. 

Twelve years ago she and her family of 6 were displaced. One day she was out with her youngest child who was about 3. She heard that people were randomly being killed in her town and everyone had to flee into the woods. For 2 days she hid in the woods, not knowing if the rest of her family was alive or dead. She was able to reunite with her family and they had to leave all their possessions behind and flee to a new town. A new town where they had nothing and knew no one. Amelia told us a few years ago someone came to record the stories of the displaced but she was not ready to tell her story. She was traumatized she said. Even though she now feels ready to tell her story we could see how difficult it still is, and always will be to remember that pain. As the pastor said, it hurts his heart to both hear people's stories and recount them to others.

We find Amelia to be so brave. While she says she now feels safe you can still sense her hesitation. She did not even say what group it was that committed the violence and we did not ask. Telling your story and fingering the violators are two different things. Her oldest son has actually joined the national army, which might make it even more difficult. It shows the complicated web of relationships between the violence, guerrillas, paramilitaries, and national army. When violence is used nothing is clear or simple. We are not psychologists, we did not have any inspirational words of comfort. All we could say is thank you for sharing with us. Thank you for teaching us. Hopefully we helped her to heal by listening, but now we have to share. We share so people understand that it is our own government that funds this violence and it is our responsibility to prevent more stories like that of Amelia.

Tough old ladies

I have to give a shout out to my co-accompanier, Mary Kay. She might not want me to tell the world how old she is but she is in her 70s. She travels all the time and is a pretty incredible person. First of all she is here. We stay in houses without air conditioning and it is hot and humid. Hot and humid in the way that you are always a little sweaty. And this is coming from someone who sweats very little. In our last homestay we did not even have a real bathroom. There was a toilet that did not flush, you have to pour water in the basin so you did not waste water if there is only urine in the toilet. There was no shower, we took bucket baths. Honestly, I love bucket baths but if you have never done it, it is something to get used to. Then our toilet got clogged up. It was an incredibly old house and the plumbing is really old. Our host told us it happens every now and again and you can't use the toilet until it fixes itself. How it fixes itself, I am still unsure. So we spent an afternoon peeing in the "shower" room. Even this was new for me. She never complained, only expressed how bad she felt for our host because he must be embarrassed. I expected some complaining at peeing in the shower but she was a trooper.

She is also incredibly kind and generous. She always wants to make sure everyone is taken care of. She has a knack of understanding what people need. When we were in the airport she could tell there was an anxious lady in line behind us and while I would have run away we waited for her through security and sat with her at the gate. This lady was crazy, and she was so patient and kind. Then there was a lady at a church service who told us her husband had just died and she was still so sad about it. She got a little teary and I never know what to say. Mary Kay just gave that lady a big hug and she just cried and cried. What she needed was someone to hug her. She only speaks a tiny bit of Spanish but manages to communicate very well. She also puts up with me. Sometimes I forget she does not understand Spanish and I forget to translate for her. She is so patient and just tells me she does not expect me to translate everything. I find her pretty impressive.