Hello, Anger

I had a Miranda July moment yesterday, when I wanted to swear off everything—I mean, EVERYTHING. 

My frustrations had been building all day, and they culminated with me being barely able to control my fisted hand and heavy, sob-filled breathing while driving home from tutoring.

On a personal level, I felt stuck in my unemployment, without a renewed teaching license, destined to sit at home each day and dwell on my failures as a teacher.

Also, my mind had been stewing on the current situation in South Sudan, thinking about the futility of peace agreements, the futility of any sort of aid work, when the country only continues to break down into chaos, being both unwilling and unequipped to help itself.

The major blow came in the afternoon when I heard the news about Sirius, the team dog.  Last year, our team was excited at the thought of having a black lab as a devoted member of the team.  John purchased one in Uganda, with the hopes of using it to guard our compound, play with us during down time, accompany us in our work, and encourage us with love after a hard day.  Sadly, Sirius had a consistently stubborn, bad streak in him—along with a dislike for the local people.  Our whole team had struggled to keep the bad-mannered dog under control since day one.  Once our team left for the states, he was entrusted into the care of our Sudanese friend Rooney.  Unfortunately, Sirius had only been acting worse in recent days, breaking through his small cage and chasing people, even hurting them, on a regular basis.  At this point, there was nowhere else for him to go and no one who could (or would want to) take care of him.  The decision was made for him to be killed. 

           

I know that this was the best decision for the people in the town (and maybe even for the dog, to be honest).  However, what I couldn’t get past was that we had no choice.  There were no other options.  My mind kept repeating, “There are no options…”  It was the lack of choice that angered me.  And I started to think about how this lack of choice is not just in the lives of expats’ dogs.  This fixed and limited fate is dominant across the whole of South Sudan, effecting people of all ages and abilities.  A bright young woman may dream of becoming a scientist or lawyer.  She may have even saved up some money to attend a university.  However, she will end up staying in town because a family member will have just had a baby and there are too many mouths for one person to feed.  Eventually, she will also get pregnant and will never see life beyond her small village.  An older, educated man may have the passion and the vision to create reforms for his state.  He too will never see this dream realized because the corrupt government officials will have stolen whatever small amount of money this country had allocated for development.    

And it isn’t just South Sudan that angers me.  It is this whole, broken world, with its poverty and its hunger, its greed and its corruption.  Nothing is ever working the way it should.

I don’t tend to recognize my own anger very well, often mistaking it for sadness or a “pessimistic attitude.”  Amidst all of my pondering, it took me a while to call my anger what it really was.  When I finally I named it, it covered me like a wave, washing away any grains of hope or grace that tend to cling to.    

Once I got home I chose to do push-ups to vent out my anger.  With burning arms, I opened up my laptop only to read about more bombings in Nigeria. 

F*@*!!!!

I was hit again with the injustice.

More push-ups.  (If this anger keeps up, I will reach my “Linda Hamilton arms” goal sooner than expected.)

Now that I’ve had some time to read, reflect, and sleep through my anger, I just feel tired.  I don’t know what my responsibility is as a citizen of this earth, but I feel the need to do something.  God certainly doesn’t want me to turn a blind eye to injustice.  Proverbs is filled with words of wisdom about seeking justice.  Chapter 29 reads, “The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern.  Mockers stir up a city, but wise men turn away anger.” I read on for my daily dose of humility.  “Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.  Many seek an audience with a ruler, but it is from the Lord that man gets justice.” 

Maybe I have been putting too much hope in the plans of man, the morality and ethics of a sinful people.  I have also given myself too much credit, when I am just as bad as the rest.  There is nothing I can do here on my own.  I am not in control— and when I realize this, I throw a temper-tantrum like a two year old.  It is amazing that God lovingly chooses to use this spiritual infant for His purposes, as unclear and unpleasant as they may seem to me.   

He who trusts in himself is a fool, but he who walks in wisdom is kept safe. 

-Proverbs 28:26

UPDATE!  At the last minute, a home out in the bush was found for Mister Sirius.  He is now a content and very large dog, working on herding cattle and keeping out nearby hyenas.  Praise God for giving a good home to this pup!

The Other Side

This Vice Magazine report gives a pretty accurate look at the current situation in South Sudan.  It goes into the lives of the rebel fighters, looking at things from their perspective.  So much of this film reminds me of the harshness of this country, the indirection, the need for the gospel, and the need for softened hearts.  This video is very graphic, so use discretion.  

video

Freccia for Vice

Vice

Freccia for Vice

James Akena/Reuters

Freccia for Vice

Vice

Making a Space

     God is so good to give me gifts, things that make my heart happy and encourage me to jump into life with more vigor.  This past month, He has provided me with something that makes me especially happy—a library card!!  Along with this comes an overdue reunion with my long-lost literary friends and places, words and ideas, all barely stuffed within the confines of the narrow wooden shelves at my local library.  The Jenkintown library is a quirky little place, with low lighting and tight corners.  Piles of books and papers sit in random places on counters and behind desks.  It looks more like the large home collection of some old, reclusive historian who generously opened his home to the public.  And I love it! 

     The first section I wandered into was that of the literary criticisms.  I thumbed through some essays on classic literature and pulled out a small (I get overwhelmed by the big ones) criticism on Lord of the Flies.  I stuffed it under my arm and continued down the list of titles, printed along mismatched layers of book spines.  I came to one that I wasn’t expecting to see in the row—Reading Lolita in Tehran, by Azar Nafisi.  I had heard about this memoir years ago but had forgotten about it.  This day, it practically jumped off the shelf at me; it was just the thing I was craving to explore.

     I recommend this book to anyone who loves literature and cares about social justice. Every page in this story reminds me of the joy and freedom we have in reading.  I am grateful that here in America books are in abundance, and the opportunity to read them is a right for all.  The memoir retells the season in the life of a former Iranian University teacher, who holds a female-only literary class in her small home.  She writes about the personalities and opinions of her eager students, who shed their black burka coverings and reveal the “color of their dreams” each week.  (Think, Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own” but on a more intense scale.)  The ladies discuss the themes in books by Austen, Nabokov, Fitzgerald, and James, to name a few, applying these new worlds of ideas to their more harsh world as second-class citizens.  It warms my heart to read about these young women who, every week, travel silently and anonymously to a poor, cluttered living room, where they can shed their veils and speak loudly, creating a just reality, even if only for a couple hours.   

     Like everything else, when I read this book I found myself thinking of South Sudan.  Women have more basic rights in South Sudan; however, they still struggle with disrespect.  There are strong gender roles established in this part of Africa, which leads to a societal disbelief that women could ever be educational or intellectual leaders.  There is a part I love in Nafisi’s memoir, where she and her cheeky students play on Jane Austen’s classic introduction of Pride and Prejudice.  She writes, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Muslim man, regardless of his fortune, must be in want of a nine-year-old virgin wife.”  I feel like I could make similar statements, equally as sardonic and disgusted, regarding dating and marriage in South Sudan. 

     I have to catch myself when I start becoming overly cynical, as it reflects a lack of hope that things will ever change for the better.  God has a plan, even though it includes the pain that has haunted (and will continue to haunt) the pages of women’s stories for centuries to come.  I am grateful that in this ugliness God has given us a yearning for something much bigger and much more fulfilling that anything in this world has to offer. 

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory 

that will be revealed in us.” -Romans 8:18        

Library Love

Ever since I got my library card this week, I've been all about the reading.

I've also been all about the libraries. 

Jenkintown Library

Here are some photos that I love, for they show the awe-inspiring nature 

of books upon books all in one place. 

Rijksmuseum Research Lib, Amsterdam

Angelica Library, Rome

Lori Nix

Source: weheartit.com

Source: artpixie.tumblr.com

Trinity College, Dublin

Source: oldtimefriend.tumblr.com

Source: wasbella102.tumblr.com

Stuttgart Library, Germany

Source: weheartit.com

An Ugly Mind

            The school was like a dream.  Spread out over multiple buildings of local bluestone, this private school campus fit thousands of the city’s most ambitious students.  It was spacious and bright and the halls were covered with various cultural relics, apparently for some ongoing school exhibition.  The diverse crowd of students spotted the hallways, laughing and moving quickly, as if returning to a much-anticipated discussion.  They seemed genuinely happy to be in school.  Students seemed to be working together, rather than cutting each other down in the usual teenage fashion.  This place seemed like the ideal workplace for any teacher, regardless of age or teaching philosophy.  It had eager learners, big windows, many extra-curriculars, a snazzy website, a NEW LIBRARY.  Unfortunately, the only thing I could think of when I was dropping off my resume was, “Enjoy the view.  This is the last time you’ll see this place.”  As I found the upper school office and handed the envelope to the smartly dressed secretary, the words seemed almost audible—“You’ll never work at a school like this.  Who are you kidding?”  It didn’t even occur to me that these thoughts were so debasing, so often have I heard them spoken to myself.  I drove away from the Abington school feeling completely defeated—actually knowing that I was defeated.  It was true that I was never going to get that job, but only because I really believed I could not do it.   

            I have had a terribly self-defeating mind for as long as I can remember, but it has only really proven consequential in the past several years since college.  When it comes to anything job related, I seem to buckle and shrink in fear.  So often have I let my mind bully myself into submission, into resignation, fearing to go out and do the things that a “normal” adult seems to accomplish with ease.  I tell myself that any effort I make will end up in failure, so I need to save myself the embarrassment and just not try.  It is a psychological position that I seem to be trapped in—even when I try to muster up any sort of confidence, I know it in my heart to be a façade that will be quickly revealed. 

            So where do I go from here?  Settle for mediocrity and a life of safety?  That makes me feel even worse about myself.  Push for the things seemingly greater than myself and live in constant fear of failure?  That only leads to exhaustion and isolation, which is also unhealthy.  These are the desperate times that I hate and appreciate so much—the paradox of living with an all-sufficient God.         

Dance On

source: anyaadores.blogspot.com

John and I are going to the Academy of Music to see Carmina Burana this week.

This opera will combine the dancing skills of the Pennsylvania Ballet with the musical skills of the company's singers and musicians (performing Stravinsky's violin concerto).  I can't wait!  The ballet is one of my favorite forms of art-- there's something about the athleticism of it and the intensity of those who practice it.  I could never have that sort of determination!  The pairing of strength and beauty is a sight to behold.  Here is the Penn. Ballet rehearsing for the upcoming show:

I like watching ballerinas rehearse even more that I enjoy seeing the final performance.  (Maybe I get a bit nervous for them out there under those lights.)  I enjoy those off-stage moments of deep reflection, as they push back the worries of the day-- classroom dysfunction and arguments with fellow dancers, finding a way to pay rent, planning the upcoming holiday weekend in New York-- all thought of with the count of eight beating interminably in the background.

Photo: Cornel Capa

source: bellebelledejour

Brigitte Bardot at practice

photo: Andrej Uspenski


Let them praise His name with dancing, and make music to him with tambourine and harp.
-Psalm 149:3

George Balanchine Dance

  

Get Wisdom

            

Sunrise in Mexico

        It has been ages since I’ve written anything of my life or state of mind at current.  That is because during these past few months I have been moving inside a twister of changes, decisions, and transitions.  My mind has had a hard time staying present at any one thought for more than a few seconds, let alone an hour or so for written reflection.  I’m starting to get the feeling that this will be a more accurate picture of life in the states during this season—rushing through responsibilities as neatly and quickly as possible, mustering up any intentionality I can, all while trying to take away any ounce of heavenly-lesson that God may be using amidst the earthly chaos.  John and I have been reading through Proverbs, which I am hoping will quiet my attention-deficit mind and redirect my chronically self-absorbed heart.  I feel lost in this new season of life and fear that my greenness will lead me to make dumb decisions that will disappoint my friends, family, community, and Sudanese friends.  I’ve been searching for wisdom, particularly as a new wife, an out-of-towner, and a job seeker, by trusting my gut instinct and continuing to move forward so I can see external progress.  I daily forget that wisdom is only received through faith, given by the One who defines it.  When Jesus gives advice to his disciples he says, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit.”  (John 15:16) Good fruit cannot be willfully created by myself—both a humbling and a freeing realization. 

God has been good to teach me a few things as I adjust to this new phase of adulthood in Philadelphia.  I thought I’d share some.

1.     My fears reveal my faith (or lack thereof):  

I’ve been facing a lot of fears here in Philly—driving busy streets, applying to new schools, confronting Western culture, and communicating the good the bad and the ugly with my new husband.  All these things shake my fragile bones and reveal how weak and incapable I really am.  It is sad to realize how little I trust God’s provision in my life.  Even sadder is that the people around me have to witness this utter lack of faith.  God has been reminding me that only He can bring real peace, so to lose the fear, I have to lose control and fall freely into the arms of the Almighty God.  

    

2.     Hope is good: 

In the words of Andy Dufresne, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”  Life in America depresses me.  Here, I see and feel the overwhelming paradox of complete emptiness and fear amidst all the excess and pride.  As a believer, I can’t simply resign myself to the cynicism of this broken world.  Yes, there is pain and suffering; I cannot deny that.  I of all people am prone to look at the world through a darker lense. However, hope is real and it needs to shape my public life.  The hope of the gospel should propel me to act towards justice, to give of myself as the Lord calls me to.  “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is in your power to act.  Do not say to your neighbor, ‘Come back later; I’ll give it tomorrow’—when you now have it with you.”  (Proverbs 3:27,28)  I must keep moving out in love, giving with the belief that God is really making all things for good.

3.     Grace upon grace: 

Working on a small team in South Sudan, I got used to examining the sins, not only of myself, but also of others.  I spent time talking through conflict and used up much of my emotional reserves to make sense of the strange and powerful idols in the hearts of man.  When I found out I’d be spending more time in the states, I looked forward to not having to address this “sin issue” so frequently.  I quickly realized how wrong I was.  Living with parents, planning a wedding, moving to a new city, and getting married all shoved me into the fire, reminding me of the power of sin in both myself and in others.  Of course, in America, sin looks different.  People hide their sin behind smiling faces and busy schedules, words of empty agreement, and hours behind computer screens.  It is a bit more veiled, which can make it even scarier.  People are less aware of their own sin, and I feel the gnawing urge to reveal this ignorance to them (completely forgetting about my own sin, of course).  Here in the states I am around many more strange people, whose chaotic lives have to unfortunately overlap with mine, messing up the order and peace that I have so obsessively tried to maintain.  Luckily for me, God has blessed me with the patience and forgiveness, otherwise known as grace, from friends, family, and my loving husband John.  These people take me as I am, heinous sin and all.  They ask questions and listen.  They send letters and prayers.  Most important, they believe that I am a beloved child of God and make sure to remind me of that each day.  This grace propels me to give out grace, as well—to listen without judgment and to step outside of my controlled world into the world of others.  We are all in this together, after all.   

February, 8'th-- Married!

        

Wisdom is supreme; therefore, get wisdom.  Though it cost all you have,

get understanding.  Esteem her, and she will exalt you;

embrace her, and she will honor you.

-Proverbs 4:7,8