Thursday, December 15, 2011

Prayer Request

Hey everyone,

Last year, as a lot of you know, I did student teaching at PHS and loved it.  Today there was an incident between two teachers, and an English teacher that I knew was stabbed by another teacher.  She's stable and recovering.  She is quite a spitfire and loves the students so I imagine that once she's better she'll probably be back to teach.

For the news, see here.

Thanks for the prayers.

In other news, here in Philly we had the 5th Annual Winter Art Exhibit.  The girls from the afterschool performed there best, doing Step, singing in a quartet and displaying their paintings, crochet, and sewing projects.  I was so impressed with how well they all did!

Monday, December 5, 2011

Hope

I've learned something: working with middle schoolers is hard.

How do you meet the challenges presented by each unique individual, boost their grades, support them emotionally, and do it all the while feeling like you don't really have a clue?

The answer lies in the question: why do we, my partner and I, care so much?  Or, why does it bother us so much that we only have two hands and one brain each and sometimes we just don't understand 6th grade math?

Because we have hope.  We see a purpose in what we do, and we want so badly to be able to do it and do it really well.  And it's hard because I wish I knew how to sufficiently answer some of the tougher questions, how to address them, how to fix them today!  Right now!  But that's not feasible.  I'm growing and learning as much as any of the girls in the program.

And hope is more than just, "Oh, I hope I get that really neat shiny new ________!"  It something more sustaining than that- hope that we'll all grow from this experience.

Sometimes I struggle with hopelessness, especially when things seem like they're not changing or when I feel like the odds are stacked against me.  But fortunately, there is always that person to give me an encouraging word.  And I have a partner in this, and together we encourage and build each other up!  I'm learning to believe that hope means that everything, bad or good, has a purpose.  And that hope spurs us on, every day, to show up, give our best, enjoy the little things (and the littler things*) and trust in God, that all things are possible.

Come June, we'll probably say, "We get it now!"  And then school will end.

But it will have been a good journey.

----
*It goes on EVERYTHING!!!

Current concoction:
Sautee 1/8th of a giant chopped onion in 2 tbs olive oil.  Sprinkle with Adobo.  Cook a little then add frozen green beans (because you don't eat them fast enough to buy fresh ones) and stir.  Sprinkle with Adobo.  Cook raw frozen chicken in microwave (because if you add it to the oil it will splatter hard core).  Dice and add cooked chicken to beans and onion.  Saturate with Adobo.

Enjoy.  Take note of how the onions melt in your mouth and how the chicken bursts with flavor.  Then pat yourself on the back for eating green beans.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Sweet Shop

As a final project for November, we decided to put on a French Cafe.  We had desserts, pastries, coffee, soda and we invited the girls' friends, parents and teachers over for a good time.

I'll let the pictures do the speaking:





They say: YUM.

Thanks to Corner Bakery Cafe in Center City and Whipped Bakery in Northern Liberties for Donations!!



We had a lot of friends stop by:




At one point, a dance party broke out:

(Photo cred to Lucy)

After trying to dance (the Bachata, which is not French.... anyway...) I was told, "Miss, if my Grandmom saw you dancing like that, she would pray for you."

Part of the Sweet Shop was the Wall of Thanks (in honor of the upcoming holiday.)  Here's what some of the kids wrote:










At the end, we were pretty tired:



What a great afternoon with the kids- we even raised some money to help the Art House buy a new computer.




All in all, the girls worked really hard to decorate and come up with ideas for the shop.  They manned the stations and had a great time!

Sunday, November 20, 2011

What we need

Every year here at CSM Philly we go around to all of the sites which we serve at during the year and say "Thank you!"  Thank you for letting us volunteer here and thank you for being so kind to our groups.  Going on these visits has been one of my favorite parts with CSM so far.  We've heard awesome stories about how God has moved with the groups: kids loving puppet shows, summer staff getting the needed extra hands, "you helped us complete more tasks than we could have done ourselves."

Last week we visited a school/summer camp that has incredible amounts of corporate sponsors.  You walk into the building and wonder what they could possibly lack.  They have new everything from carpets to computers to sound recording equipment.  They have books and space for the kids to read.  They even have enough classrooms for each grade level to have their own space to sit, pack away their bookbags, and hang up their own artwork on the walls.

But when we talked with the volunteer coordinator and first grade teacher Ms. C, I realized why we go there.  "Your groups are so important," she told us.  She waved around at the fully equipped room and said, "These kids come back from the summer losing on average two grade levels of reading ability in the younger grades.  Each kid needs someone to sit down with them and read with them every day.  How can I do that?"

"With your groups, though," Ms. C said, "the parents have told me!  Their kids come back from the summer knowing more than when they came!  And that's because you all can sit down with them and read with them.  That's what we need; people to sit and read with them."

I remember one of the weeks I spent at this summer camp.  Each of the kids would pick their books and curl up in the hallway with their "Mentor" for the week and read.  I loved looking up and down that hallway watching the kids show off their skills to their mentor.  I remember the excitement on my kid's face when he saw me come back every day.

"On average, a family has one book at home.  One!"  Ms. C shook her head.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Fall Trip to the Farm, or, That Old Bill Cosby Show

I knew the day was going to be a good one from the start: we left on time.

After we'd packed 36 kids into an old school bus with holes in half the seats covered in tape, we took off down 6th street toward New Jersey, and the farm.

Halfway down we passed a group of people sitting outside the library.  They looked like they were waiting for someone to bring food to hand out.  Some of the kids started yelling, "Who are they?  What are they doing?"  And that's when I realized that these kids are the lucky ones of Philly.  They may not go to a very wealthy school, but it's still a private school, and they still have parents who have the means to put them in this after school program.

My thoughts were broken by sudden screams from behind me and the rest of the bus joining in.  "A horse, a horse!"  We were passing one of those scenic carriage rides and the kids were so excited.  My seat-mate started bragging, "I've seen a horse before, like a million times."   The girl behind us answered, "Oh yeah?  I've seen one like ten times."  My seat-mate retorted, "Yeah, so I wasn't scared at all, to see the horse." 

We passed two more carriages causing eruptions across the bus.  I turned to the teacher and asked if we even needed to go to the farm.  "Nope!"  She said.  "Ok that's good, let's go back!"  And she started waiving the bus driver back in jest.

Once we got over into New Jersey, just across the bridge, my seat-mate turned around and started telling the girl behind me, "We in New Jersey!  We in New Jersey! We in New Jersey!"  Apparently she wasn't hearing him.  "We in New Jersey!  We in New Jersey!  We in New Jersey!  WE IN NEW JERSEY!  WE IN NEW-"

I tap him on the shoulder.  "Do you know where we are?"

He looks at me with wide eyes and says with all sincerity, "We in New Jersey."

After that we tried to play some hand game but he couldn't remember all the steps.  A few minutes later he pops his head up and tries to see out the front of the bus.  "Do you know where we is?" he asks.

"New Jersey." 

"Oh!  Good."

Eventually we arrived at the farm, and that's how I found out for sure that this is a Christian after school program, because the whole bus erupted in a chorus of Hallelujah's.

As we waited to get on the hayride one of the kids asked me, "Are you from the farm?"  I should mention this was my first time with this particular group of kids; all my junior high girls abandoned me on their day off and opted for sleep instead.



We took the quick hayride out to the field to pick some sweet potatoes and popping corn.  One girl I didn't know came up to me and asked me if she could borrow my scarf.  I told her I didn't have a scarf.  She then proceeded to tell me that she remembers her Grandmother who used to sit and knit scarves.  "But she died," she said.  "Oh, I'm sorry!"  "In 1985."  "Oh, I'm- wait... how do you remember- nevermind."





The same girl ended up borrowing my gloves with the spider logo on the back.  She really liked them.  I went to help her off the climbing rocks before we left and she said, "Excuse me, can you help me down Ms, Ms..."

"You borrow my gloves, but you don't remember my name?"  I laugh.

"Ms...." she thinks really hard and then looks down at her hands.  "Ms. Spiderman?"

"Close enough."

The kids had such a great time running around picking corn, jumping off slides and riding in the hayride.  The teachers even had fun, especially since we got to pick our own sweet potatoes.  The kids were so good and listened so well to one of the farm hands explain how to make flour and apple cider.

Oh, and we saw a teepee:




And one more because I can't help myself, these kids are so cute!
"You 47?"  One kid asks as they wait in line behind me.
"Almost...""
"48?"
"Lower."
"49?"
"Lower..."
"80?"
This was getting bad for my self esteem, and I didn't feel like explaining the concept of "lower", so I asked the other kids how old they thought I was:
"Sixty!"
"Ok, let's go."

We took a sleepy ride back home on the warm bus but we woke the teachers up in time to get the kids back inside for snack before dismissal.

All in all, a fantastic day.

Thanks for reading.

With love,
Ms. Spiderman

Thursday, November 3, 2011

DON'T EAT THE PEPPERS: Another afternoon on the block

 

When I got home today I was greeted by one of the young kids on the street.  I was carrying a branch of peppers that I had been given as a gift/decoration and the kid asked if he could have one.  But, he wanted me to try one first to see if it was spicy.  I took a bite off the bottom of a pepper and, in spite of seeing my almost instant reaction to the fire occuring in my face, he tried one, too.


So after about five minutes in the kitchen steadying myself on the counter and trying not to throw up I finally made it back outside with a bottle of water for us to share.  He seemed to have handled it better than I did, though, and soon we were all playing tag and running races.  One of the Dads watching the kids would yell out when a car turned down our street.  Some of the older kids tried to see how close they could get to me without getting tagged; I seemed to be "it" a lot...

In any case, I post this as a warning to all of you starry-eyed "Oh that looks like a delicious little red pepper" potential eaters, because I believe in passing on knowledge and I believe in keeping your tastebuds:
The Fresno chili pepper a cultivar of Capsicum annuum, with bell peppers and other chili peppers. It is similar to the Jalapeño pepper but it is significantly hotter (2500-10000 Scoville units) increasing in heat as it ripens.*

DON'T EAT THE PEPPERS.

--
*And they were REALLY ripe.  Oh, and thanks to wikipedia for this quote.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Reader Appreciation: The Best Part

1 Corinthians says that love is kind, endures all things, believes all things.  Part of me thinks that 1 Corinthians 13 is written in response to the question, "But wait, what is love, anyway?"

Well, Love is the best part.

Love is helping a friend complete his lifelong dream of running up the Rocky steps: "You know, this is the best thing I'm doing here, and it didn't even cost any money."


Love is the moment when you finish a friend's sentence.

Love is watching someone you love watch someone they love and making you love the person they love because you love them and they love you.

Love is watching the snow fall, cover over the mud, and highlight the colors of the earth.



Love is the moment you say, "I hope you know that you don't have to do that for me [I love you as you are.]"

Love is realizing that you've been on the phone for an hour.

Love is a warm meal on a cold day being shared in a friendly place to anyone that's hungry.

Love is the last night Jesus spent with his twelve best friends sharing a deeply meaningful (and delicious!) meal and then encouraging them for five chapters

Love is community:



Love is sitting in Babycakes with friends on a chilly fall evening sharing laughs and music.

Love is realizing that my nightstand drawer is brimming with notes of encouragement from my friends and family.

Love is because He loved us first.

Love is sharing encouraging words written by 50 students with a 72 year-old-woman so focused on serving Jesus that she often forgets herself.  When she finished reading she wiped a tear from her eye and said, "I feel so precious."

And in the greatest act of love, the Greatest of These became the Least of These so that everyone may be encouraged.

So, love is encouragement to the precious!  And so, I am filled with love because I am surrounded by people who have stuck by me, who have listened to me and encouraged me to follow my passions, who have wanted my happiness, who have allowed me to love them, who have told me that I can write, who have told me that I am funny, who have listened to me talk about goodness only knows what; you have made me know that I am loved- and precious.  May I do the same.

Here is the least I can express:
Thank you.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

A lesson in culture

This week I started my volunteer work at an after school program in North Philly.  I am co-running the program with another girl and between the two of us we are excited to learn and plan for the 8 middle school girls attending.

I have worked in inner city schools before, but nothing quite like this one.  Most of the girls in the class are of Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, or Dominican descent.  I've worked with recent immigrants from some of these places, but never with descendants who live in the oftentimes homogeneous and culturally rich neighborhoods of North Philly. 

Besides the accents and mannerisms that I'm not quite used to there are a few Philly words thrown in that I never heard up in New York.  My favorite is "jawn", which is a placeholder word for a person, place or thing. 

Examples:
"That jawn be hurtin'"
The classic t-shirt:
Tastyjawn Men's Tee
http://www.cheesesteaktees.com/Store/pc/viewPrd.asp?idproduct=2149&IdCategory=0

Or my favorite, "What do you call it?  You know, that ma-jawn-jawn?"

I laughed at the last one, and the girl cried defensively, "What?  It's a word!"

I tried out my new slang at home, "Yo, pass me that jawn, Em-dawg" and was promptly told that it didn't work for me.

I've decided that learning Spanish might be helpful as I continue my work here, so I've been attempting that through reading the local paper, Al Dia, with the help of Google Translate.  I also realized quickly that I need to learn Teenage Girlese as well, because I found out that "going to the park to play" roughly translates to "standing by the equipment as we text".

The girls are honestly really exciting to be around.  They enjoy each other's company, they come up with excuses for why they shouldn't have to do their homework, and they love telling funny stories about their lives.

They also want to graduate with honors, become engineers for NASA, and write books.  They are smart, talented girls, and I hope that our efforts combined with theirs will give them a shot at their dreams.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Are there houses in Texas?

The thing to do after school on our block is to hang out and play games.  There are a lot of kids out some afternoons playing in the last bits of warmth that fall is granting us.

When they see Emily and I they come running and invite us to play the games they've come up with.  Usually they just play catch with the football, but sometimes for some extra competition, they take the basketball and stand on opposite sides of the street.  The point is to throw the ball and hit the vertical part of the curb and get the basketball to come back at you- that's how you score.  Each kid takes turns throwing the basketball back and forth.  It's a pretty good use for the ball, since they don't have a hoop.

I sat down on the curb next to one of the smaller kids on the block.  He's only 7, so he can't quite keep up with the kids who are 8 or 9 and have a good 30 pounds on him.  You can tell he's frustrated, but he takes it in pretty good stride, usually by laughing and accusing the biggest kid that he's cheating: "Look at him smilin'!  He's cheatin'!" he laughs and points. 

I shiver at the cold, and he tries to put his tiny jacket around me.  Next to me, Emily is learning how to throw a football.



After our football lessons we head inside for dinner.  The kids don't want to let us go and we get caught up listening to them talk.  One boy asks us, "Have you ever been to Atlanta?  Have you seen a tall black man with a bald head?  That's my Dad."  At this point his sister joins in and says, "Yeah, if you see him, tell him to call us!"  Before we can respond the boy is telling us about how his Dad lives in a mansion and launches into a list of other factors we can use to identify him should we ever find ourselves in Atlanta.

"Have you guys been to Atlanta?"  I ask.

"No," they say, "but," says the boy, and he starts to get so excited that he can't hardly speak, "but we're going to Texas!"  His sister starts freaking out, "I can't believe we're going to Texas!!" and they commence to jumping around with shrieks of laughter and excitement.

Once they calm down (a little) the boy looks at us and in all seriousness asks, "Do they have houses in Texas?"

Emily and I laugh, "Yeah, they do."

Friday, October 14, 2011

CCDA

This weekend I'm at the Christian Community Development Association's annual conference.  I've learned a lot so far, but let me keep it brief, to one of the best things I've learned while I'm here:

Together, here at the CCDA, I get to worship along side of people who believe that God has called them to the communities they live in.  But more than that,  I am worshiping alongside of people who actually believe that God can do something in their communities.  That the God who called them to either relocate or stay put intentionally can ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING AWESOME IN THE COMMUNITY.

That is such hope that I have been missing from my walk in Philly these recent weeks.  Why?  Do I really think that God has called me to a place that I love to labor and have no fruit come of it?  No!  There are too many in Philly who want to see positive change.  I am a small drop in the bucket of ministries occurring in Philly- and the world.  So when I assume that the community I live in will only decline, I'm not just saying that I don't trust God is bigger than my community, but also I deny all the work that my brothers and sisters have been doing long before I got here.

It's easy to lose hope, it's easy to be cynical.  But I love my city, and more than that, I love my God.  And my God is so big, so strong and so mighty.

And He loves us.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

A mice* conclusion

I took the mouse to the woods.  On the way I realized that the journey was more for me than the mouse, because, let's face it, it's a baby.

I am comforted by Isaiah 11:6, knowing that one day nothing will have to die anymore.

And I was wrong- it's not that no one wanted to help.  I have lots of ideas for what to do with mice now.  It's just, I need to be responsible for my mice.**

----
*Pun intended.

**Metaphor intended.

The part they don't tell you about

I have a mouse.

It's not really my mouse.  It's the mouse that ate all our chips and used the space between the mustard bottles for its house.  Worse, it's only about an inch long which makes me think it's a baby.

When you hear people tell you stories of their time in ministry, no one tells you about that time when they caught the mouse or how they had to shovel burst bags of their neighbor's trash out of their back yard.

No one tells you about how sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when it's still dark, you get woken up by the desperate sobs of a woman wandering the street below all alone.

No one passes on advice about how to handle these things, which makes me think, maybe there isn't a correct answer.  We're always looking for the right answer, the right thing to do.  Maybe the world is so messed up that the possibility for right answers ended a long time ago. 

But I still have to decide what to do with this mouse, which means that I have to live with whatever I do or don't decide.  As for the woman, well, I can only hope that my half-awake prayers are enough. 

The woman, the mouse, me- we're all helpless for knowing what's next.

As I stood alone in the kitchen holding a frying pan and debating with myself I realized that there are some things that people just don't want to help you with.

Anyone up for a drive to the park?

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Yassa Yassa Yassa

Tonight we went to the grand opening of the fantastic Le Bercail restaurant in West Philly*.  Two summers ago we were regulars at the old place, Soleil de Minuit (midnight sun?)  and we were super pumped about rewarding our long-deprived taste buds of the Malian deliciousness.

That's right, Mali.  As in:

http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/fintastique/fintastique0702/fintastique070200012/735961-map-of-mali-and-malian-flag-illustration.jpg


Mali, West Africa. 

The owner, Michael, is super sweet and recognized us even though we hadn't been in over a year.  When he saw me he laughed and said, "I remember you!  You're the girl who asked about the chickens!"**  I just kind of smiled.

Michael brought us all of his favorite dishes including his most famous Yassa dish, which is actually Senegalese.  We're not really sure what's in Yassa, something along the lines of onion and lemon, but the dish tastes more like spicy honey mustard.  Doesn't stop it being delicious, though!

This is Michael's favorite tilapia with brown rice and an onion bell-pepper salad:
Photo courtesy of Emily

Through dinner Michael came over and talked with us about our summers, his summer, and his big plans for starting a new company.  The cool thing about his restaurant that I've always loved is how essential it is to the Malian community in Philadelphia.  To be honest, it's not a very big community.  But it centers around Le Bercail, as far as we can tell.  Michael knew everyone that walked through the door and packed into every available seat.  It felt like we had joined some huge family who's house was the restaurant

When we left, Michael smiled and asked us, "When will you come hang out with us again?"

"Soon," we told him, although it might take us as long to be hungry again.

----

*If you need to sing the song every time I write this, I won't judge.  If you don't know the song, good for you.  It's like Gilligan's Island, can't quite ever get it out of your head.

**This is a reference to an embarrassing moment where he told us that the chickens we just ate were local, so I asked him if he raised his own chickens.  Apparently this is a hilarious question to ask a Malian.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

As Big as the City

Part of my homework has been to read this book:

http://covers.openlibrary.org/w/id/633546-L.jpg

After reading it, we had to write down a response- where do we see God in the city?

What kept popping to mind was a time I watched a boy and his brother sitting together during free time in an after school program.  The older brother, N, had been throwing paper airplanes with his friends when his brother, J, asked him to come sit and play.  I expected N to just give his brother the cold shoulder especially since J was handicapped and his coloring didn't stand a chance against the excitement of wreaking havoc in the small room with paper airplanes.

I think I remember N hesitating for just a moment before he came and sat down next to J, but I'm not sure.  Apparently they had a ritual because J had already constructed a lopsided Tic-Tac-Toe board that went from edge to edge but barely left enough room for the middle square.  N flopped down and put his letter on the board.  At J's second turn it was clear that he had no idea how to employ strategy in the game.  But N was expecting this.  Whenever his brother made a careless move he simply chose an even worse move for himself. 

J, I could tell, prized having the attention over winning almost every time.  Once there was nothing N could do and no one ended up winning.  J didn't care.  He just drew a new square and they played until J got bored with the game.

So that's God to me, becuase that's what God asks of us: "seek justice" (Micah 6:8).  N walked away with joy that day.  I could tell from watching how much he cared for his brother.  And sometimes joy comes in understanding that your brother needs a little extra help.  And love definitely works that way.  Sometimes it means making a stupid Tic-Tac-Toe move or ignoring your friends.

To me, the crazy thing was that if I hadn't been sitting there, no one, not even his brother, would have realized what he was doing for his brother.  N never called J stupid or goaded over him or took advantage.  He understood who his brother was and what he needed, and gave it to him.  Even at the cost of missing out on some epic paper plane time with his other friends. 

It reminds me of this quote from someone I met over the summer:
"I think if you're the only person in the whole world doing the right thing, I think you have to do the right thing, right?"

Sunday, October 2, 2011

A Warm Send-Off

Today was the last time I will be able to attend my home church for a few weeks.  I asked the congregation if they would pray for me when they thought of me this next year.  As I am less than 2 days away from heading down to Philly it is dawning on me how important it will be to have a home church thinking about me and praying for me.  This church has been my home and support for many, many years, and hopefully for many more. 

My request was welcomed with smiles, nods, handshakes, hugs, and warm conversations.  I even received prayer right on the spot. 

Even more fitting was that it was World Communion Day, so as I walked up to receive my portion I knew that I did not walk alone.  We are all of us called to places as distant as our Guatemalan visitors or to as close, as Pastor T. put it, to across the table.  "Everything in your life has led you to this point," I was told, and I want to echo that to every person.  I know it's true.

So as you partner with me, I partner with you, and together we approach the table as one body.

Ask and you shall receive?  Yes.  God has given me a truly gracious community to partner with here.  I am glad to go knowing that I call them my home.

Friday, September 30, 2011

The Apprentice

For the next year I will be:


http://www.puzzlegames4free.com/sites/puzzlegames4free.com/files/images/the-apprentice.jpg

That's right.  I'm going to get bangs.

In all seriousness, I will be working for CSM in a position that will allow me to explore what it means to live and work cross-culturally in the city.  I'm very excited about the opportunity to see God work around me and through me. 

Essentially, I will be volunteering long-term at a site of my choice, which is not yet determined.  I hope to build relationships with those I work alongside of and to absorb the wisdom of those who have been doing this for many years.

I start next week.

...to fry an egg?

We were wondering if the almost intolerable weather in Philly this summer was something we could use to our advantage.  It's hard to reason using the stove in the house when you've already got 115°F to work with outside.  So, we tried our hand at a little sidewalk roasting:



It didn't work.

After careful analysis of the looks the neighbors gave us we realized that apparently, people already know that it doesn't work.

Oh well, none of us are wishing for the extra 43° it apparently does take.  At least Mr. Egg's Last Stand made the internet.  And a good (?) lunch for a dog.

Drafts & Altars

The title for this blog comes from something I wrote a while back regarding the way I view my journals:

Drafts.
it has recently come to my attention that i never revise what i write.  i hardly regard this as a lack of judgment but rather as a choice to let be what was and focus on what can be.  i hope these drafts may be an exposition not of a broken girl but of what a loving GOD can do with a marvelous creation.

&

Altars.
back in biblical times, people would build altars to remember occasions on which GOD moved in their lives.  at the altar, everything makes sense.  you are a loving GOD and we are loving followers placing all at your feet.  these are my altars to you, occasions i never want to forget so that when the world grays, your light will shine through these pages into the darkness of my world.