Keba beat me to it. Read her latest blog entry here about Advent Conspiracy and the heart of Christmas.

So instead of rehashing what she wrote, I’ll write about something else. Today, Matt and I hosted one of several World Vision staff members (known as “donor liaisons”) who came to the States for training this week. Each of the visiting staff members are from different countries, and their boss asked for volunteers to take a liaison to church, host them for lunch in an “American home,” and then hang out with them the rest of the afternoon.

We picked her up this morning, brought her to our church, and then had her, Keba, and Aaron over for lunch. After that, we took her to Pike Place, Kerry Park, and then - like any good host - introduced her to boba (which she liked!). I tried not to bombard her with questions, but I was very curious about life in the DR, and, specifically, what it’s like for Claudia to work in her office and in the communities WV serves. Claudia told us about letters she translated between children and their sponsors, about teary visits of sponsors and donors to the field, and about the challenges of people living in the DR.

I recently wrote a community overview for a fundraiser who is asking a church to consider sponsoring a lot of kids in a community in the DR - and Claudia said she had just visited that exact community. Hearing that - and hearing her stories - reminded me of the role that I play in the big picture. There are so many people who work at WV, and we always hear that every person’s role is important. But when hierarchy is so prominent at work, it’s really easy to feel like most of us are hanging out at the bottom, looking up at the mucky-mucks who get two computers while the rest of us have to hit ctrl+alt+del a few too many times a day to force-quit our frozen programs because our computers are incredibly old (but no, I’m not bitter…) Where was I? Oh yeah - It’s easy to lose sight of the big picture. But meeting someone who has seen the children and the work there firsthand made it all that much more real to me. It renewed my enthusiasm to continue my work, and made me love it even more.

When we dropped Claudia off at the hotel, we ran into another donor liaison from Kenya. He and I had e-mailed each other many times over the year. To finally meet him face to face was fun - and gave me another reminder that we are all in this big picture together.

We cannot do things without each other. Without someone in the community providing me with info, I cannot write a report about what’s being done or a proposal about what will be done if a donor gives us the big bucks. If I can’t write something up, the fundraiser can’t tell a donor how his/her money was used, or how his/her donation WILL be used. And if the fundraiser can’t give the donor any info, most likely, no donations will be made. And if no donations aren’t made, no work will be done on the field. We all really do need each other, and there can’t be any egos, pride, or selfishness because really, it’s not about us. It’s not about career advancement, salary increases, or recognition. It needs to be about getting the goal accomplished - and that goal is to make sure we’re doing all we can individually to make things happen on the field. And why? So wells can be built, so healthcare centers will be stocked, so teachers will be trained, so people will learn about HIV and AIDS, so farmer will learn which crops to grow, etc., etc. - bottom line: so people can live healthier, more hope-filled lives.

So the next time I’m discouraged, the next time I feel like just another worker bee getting ignored in the halls by a mucky-muck, the next time I send off a document without getting any thanks in return, I need to remember how I’m feeling now. I have to remember the work that Claudia does in the DR, the children she has translated letters for, and the families she’s visited. That’s what it’s all about.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing.

I’m thankful for friends who graciously invited us to be a part of their family during this holiday, and for the neighbors across the street who we’ll be joining for dinner tomorrow night. I’m thankful for the ability to wake up and do what I love each day, and I’m thankful to live in a place that never fails to amaze me with views of beautiful green trees, mysterious fog, soothing rain, and snowy, majestic Mt. Rainier. And I’m thankful for good friends who are not ashamed to watch “New Moon” with me. ;)

And those are things I’m thankful for just today. If I spent more time on this, I’d fill up this page.

A co-worker e-mailed this out, and I wanted to share it with you all:

A Thanksgiving Prayer

Oh, God, when I have food help me to remember the hungry;

When I have work, help me to remember the jobless;

When I have a warm home, help me to remember the homeless;

When I am without pain, help me to remember those who suffer;

And remembering, help me to destroy my complacency and bestir my compassion.

Make me concerned enough to help, by word and deed,

those who cry out for what we take for granted.

~ Samuel. F. Pugh

Two Fridays ago, Matt and I watched “God Grew Tired of Us,” a documentary about three refugees and the start of their new life in the United States. For about 10 years, these young men lived in a refugee camp in Kenya after fleeing their homes in Sudan during a civil war. More than 25,000 boys - or Lost Boys, as they were nicknamed - made the trek from Sudan to refugee camps in neighboring countries, creating new family bonds and caring for one another along the way. Many of them had watched their family members get killed, while others didn’t even know if their relatives were still alive. Some of the Lost Boys didn’t make it to the camps; the rest survived the trek, but only barely. They looked like skeletons, with little life on their bones or hope in their eyes.

In 2001, the three young men highlighted in the movie were among 3,800 others chosen to come to the United States. These particular three ended up in Syracuse, NY, and Pittsburgh, PA. It was touching, encouraging, and at times amusing to watch these guys learn about life in the States. The movie shows them stumbling on and off the escalator at the airport, eating individually wrapped squares of butter, mashing cereal in a pitcher with the handle of a hammer and then pouring milk into the pitcher.

When the guys arrived in the States, the government got them set up with housing and help, which made the transition slightly easier. They were instructed on how to use a shower, how to shop at the grocery store - and fortunately, their English skills were already pretty good, so at least they could communicate with others.

What stuck with me, though, was not so much the difficulty in the transition. One of the guys was talking about how, in his new life, he was working hard at two jobs, barely spending any time at home. His roommate, one of his friends from the refugee camp, also was working hard, so the two barely saw each other. Most of their time was either waiting for or riding the bus, working, and then sleeping. Back at the refugee camp, community was everything. The guys lounged in tree branches, or sat on the ground in a large circle, singing, clapping, telling stories. In the States, store owners were intimidated by the groups of refugees who traveled in packs, so the guys were instructed to enter the stores either alone or in pairs.

I don’t remember his exact words, but he basically said it was quite a shame that Americans lived like this. They were so busy working, trying to make money, and going about their busy lives, that there hardly was any time to just sit around with other friends and enjoy community.

Here is this guy who came from a place where the “carpet” was just a dirt floor, where people were lucky to get one meal a day, and where people could not return home because of the civil war. But here he was, commenting about the sad lifestyle that is so common among Americans. You hear it all the time, but this is reinforces the idea that it’s a shame that we have too much or we feel like we have to aim toward more than what is really necessary. I surely am guilty of it.

Coincidentally, last Saturday and this Saturday, I participated in an ESL adult literacy training. Before I arrived, I didn’t realize that the training was geared toward volunteers working with adult refugees and immigrants. The training was sponsored by an organization that began in Tacoma in 1910 and focused on helping immigrants - Scandinavians at the time - with their literacy skills. Today, the organization serves mostly East Africans and Asians, as the immigrant and refugee population has changed, obviously.

The timing was perfect. With the movie still in my mind, and then hearing about how language and literacy skills give adults a voice, independence, confidence, and access really motivated me to soak everything in. In addition, I was learning about two things I really enjoy - language and words. Another motivator was that throughout the training, I kept thinking back to my time in Brazil, specifically the first month or two when I was still learning Portuguese. My skills were limited to whichever words sounded enough like Spanish, and also the words I learned from capoeira songs, which were words like “I,” “play,” “learn,” “game,” circle,” “you.” Pretty limited.

I remember the frustration of having my schedule planned out without my input, the resistance from others to let me take the bus anywhere (which I thankfully did the last three months), and the inability to communicate during social events. For someone who dreads large groups even in America where I can speak the language, it was even more unbearable in a foreign country with a different language. I felt like a little kid again, unable to communicate, and unable to let my voice be heard. Just because someone doesn’t speak the language of the land doesn’t mean they’re suddenly stupid or inadequate, but too often, that’s how they’re treated.

I have to confess that I’ve gotten frustrated with some of the ESL students when they don’t seem to be trying hard, or if they just can’t seem to get it. But they still are making a commitment to get help two to three times a week, and that takes time and effort. I have to remember that learning a new language - especially if the student is not accustomed to writing or reading - takes time. And encouragement and patience from someone else is what they need most to help them grasp the language.

It makes me incredibly sad to think about people who aren’t heard. And it’s not just immigrants or refugees who can’t speak English. They might be underprivileged teenagers, children or adults with disabilities, elderly who are sick and have difficulty communicating. Our inability to take the time to listen to them deflates their self-esteem even more until they, too, believe they don’t have any worth.

We can all think of times when we felt like we were not heard - with our family members who seem to have too many issues to ask about our own lives, friends who don’t stop talking enough to let us speak, co-workers who dominate team meetings - and we’re talking about people who speak the same language. Imagine how much more frustrating and discouraging it is to have the words in your head and to not even be understood, no matter how loud you speak or how hard you try. It makes you feel like your head is going to explode, and even then, people around you will tell you how to clean it up because they won’t think you’re capable of doing it yourself.

I hate it when I feel too insecure or intimidated to let my voice be heard. But at least I can speak the language of people around me. How much harder is it for others who don’t have that option? Everyone should have a voice. Who can you listen to today?

Here’s a snippet of a conversation I had on Saturday with a woman (probably in her late 60s) who was in an ESL tutoring workshop with me…

WOMAN: I noticed that the immigrants that I work with are so polite and considerate.

ME: Me too. The ones I’ve worked with call me ‘teacher,’ and are so respectful, even though they’re much older than I am.

WOMAN: ‘Teacher’ - is that what you want to be when you grow up?

ME: (silent for a few seconds because I was so thrown off by her question, and because I was laughing inside) No…um, I’m a writer.

WOMAN: Wonderful!

I can’t remember the last time I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. At 31, how much older do I have to get to be considered a grown-up??!

Despite Nicole’s initial extreme awkwardness, she was my fave from the start. But then I was torn between Nicole and Jennifer, who I also was rooting for, for the sake of having the first Asian America’s Next Top Model. But Nicole was definitely the stronger of the two. Now, she’s just slightly awkward, still dorky, but definitely has more confidence than what she started with. Congrats Nicole, winner of ANTM cycle 13!!

I finally posted pics from our adventures over the last few months. I still have more to post, but here’s a bunch for now. AND I’ve finally switched over to Picasa…check them out!

Loved the latest episode of Glee…”Defying Gravity” is totally my “go-to shower song” too!! I still listen to the “Wicked” soundtrack at least once a week since Na and I watched the musical last October…looove it!!

As someone who excessively dwells on the past, I especially liked this quote:

“Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” (spoken by Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith)