12.22.2009

may all your christmases be white

.......with every Christmas card i write
may your days be merry and bright
and may all your Christmases be white

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to each of my readers i wish you happy days ahead
may you see your blessings
surronding you like snowflakes
Merry Christmas!
the birth of our Saviour....

12.21.2009

English 109

...this semester i was blessed with being able to take several classes at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, one of the courses was Deve. English 109, we wrote about 6 or 7 essays over the semester and because i can't think of anything smart to say i will just say...."i would like to share them with You....dear reader."

this is one of the "middle semester" essays i composed and i call it 'Each Need'

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Sinking into the bus seat, I tried to blow warmth into my stiff fingers. After several moments the tingling feeling of thawing crept into my hands, making me relax. Looking around, I quietly surveyed the other bus riders. A man and woman both bundled in large parkas and fur gloves, chatted together. Two young teens giggled and listened to their iPods. A homeless man talked and cursed to the nothingness in the seat beside him. Several individuals decorated the other open seats. Turning slowly, I glanced behind me to see a small group of wide eyed and mystified faces. Six or seven children were swinging their legs from the seats, snow dripping from their boots and cheeks rosy with the winter chill. They were happy and excited, but their words were inaudible. By this world’s definition they were special needs kids. I liked them. They were enjoyable and fun. I smiled.
As the group of children's excitement increased, the inaudible sound of anticipation increased as well. Looking around the bus, I noticed a similar reaction in all of the passengers. They each emanated a feeling of annoyance and frustration. People’s glances swept disdainfully over the group. Suddenly my imagination captured my mind and the bus was transformed into a small and stuffy classroom. I saw each bus rider turn into a school child; they each surrounded this excited group of special needs kids and began jeering and poking at them. Shaking my lethargy I was back in a cold bumping bus, but I realized that what I saw on the bus was the same thing I would see in a present day classroom. Sadly, I looked down at my chilly fingers and sighed, why were these children condescended so? What had brought this separation and alienation between these two types of people? Why are these children treated as victims rather than people, just like you and I? Why should our children, each and everyone, be divided in the classrooms? I think that these kids who may have needs that need to be met specially can interact in any kind of environment that is out there in the real world. The Lord made them specially and made me specially. Did we not try and segregate the African Americans not but about 30 years ago? Why should we begin the same way as we did with them and segregate these beautifully made children of God from other beautifully made children of God. This separation in schools has been an issue that has stood throughout several generations.
Perhaps the instance on the bus was just a slight example of the alienation in our society. It was an instance that portrays the situation in our classrooms. This alienation and separation has carried over into several generations of school systems. Many people have opposing views on this issue of division. Personally, this separation presents pros and cons and I must take an almost neutral stand. I must ask a question though to challenge my dear reader. My question is this, when did this prejudice and separation begin? Why? So, now I will take a point and display a presentation of the cons to this issue.
The education system in America is hugely influential and important. Our children’s futures depend largely on their schooling and knowledge. If a child’s scholastic achievements are based on their schooling, their schooling will depend on discipline, teaching, patience, perseverance, and interest. If we separated the attention span, ability and interest of each student into classes, then each child’s needs would be met very specifically and intentionally. Often times I have seen a small child scared or perturbed by a special needs child. Sometimes a young child can be damaged by the misunderstanding of a special needs kid. We must be sensitive to what our children do and don’t understand. If we mixed our children in classes, special needs or not, we might produce something unfair to our excelling and achieving students. When we have to slow down the pace of our class to the abilities and speeds of our special children, we can handicap the blossoming intellectual. Never should we limit the dreams or abilities of anyone. Yet if we separated classrooms into specific speeds and abilities, it would take less funding and effort than if we kept them all together, but wouldn’t it be worth it because it’s our children; they are our future. As a mother of special needs approached this subject her words made me think. She said, “The main thrust of this opinion is that while a lot of thought is given to what is best for the special needs children themselves, very little thought seems to go into what effect placing them in mainstream school will have on the rest of the children in the class they are in. There are many cases where the child themselves is not disruptive to the class but requires a lot of help. Here it is a comparatively simple problem of evaluating how many resources the child will take up vs. how much funding for that there is. If the child needs full time help but the LEA will only fund mornings for example then the school must divert one of its ordinary classroom assistants the rest of the time. Can it afford to do so? How much is it disadvantaging other children in the school to devote this time specifically to one child?”(LiveJournal). Even with such cons to this situation, we must look at the ways we can help our youngsters, even all together.
After I reached my destination on the bus that day and as I walked to my class, I continued to think about my experience that morning. This separation in our culture has made people annoyed and intolerant of any social differences. As a child I grew up with friends and relatives around me, who were special needs, and I learned their quirks and habits, yet they learned mine as well, and we enjoyed one another as different yet wonderful individuals. My opinion on this issue is that we should not segregate our children in school according to special needs. I understand that there is a challenge, for teachers and students alike, in keeping classes together. Yet I feel that if the children who were advanced and scholastic were encouraged to be patient and help the ones who struggled, then they would learn how to interact with these individuals more. If we separate special needs children, if we cater to their every need and disability, if we medicate their disinterest and small attention span, then what are we doing for our children, our future? We are handicapping them beyond their own handicap. We are taking away their possibility of a strong and independent future, built on their own dreams and abilities. I was recently talking with a friend of mine and he told me, “My brother is A.D.D, which is a disorder that causes the person not be able to concentrate fluently on the tasks at hand. He is not placed into a whole different system than the rest of the kids who don’t have disorders, but rather he is placed within the exact same schooling system and participates in the same homework assignments and other assignments, he just also has an extra class room that is designed to help him concentrate on only his homework, and the teachers within this classroom are specially trained to help these kids be focused on only their homework for that day. It is a brilliant idea and can be used, I think, more vibrantly throughout the school system. Meaning, I think they could use this idea of giving these kids an extra class to work and concentrate without distractions of others throughout the classroom and develop it into something that can be used in all classrooms everywhere. The idea of not segregating the kid who has a disorder and just giving him extra help, I think, is something that can be and should be used throughout any classroom”(Roberts). If we could find teachers committed to helping our students excel, teachers committed to reaching out to the needs and the strengths and weakness of each child, we could have classrooms that ran off of kids that worked together, for each other. I also believe that if we taught our children to learn with special needs and geniuses, this would carry on and benefit them in their later lives. We must teach our children to live equally and fairly with one another. Perhaps if we don’t separate our children in school, it will be more work and effort for teachers and students alike, but I strongly believe that in the long run each will reap the benefits.
Perhaps this issue of segregation has stood as a closed door between true helping humanity and annoyance and disdain of those who are different. We need to just get a foot in that door and gently push our children through. Our children are our future. There are many pros and cons to each side of this situation. Perhaps the parent who has a special needs child in school and the girl who sits on the bus have different views, because of personal experience, but either way you look at it, this is an important issue because it involves our children in the way they may later relate or react to those around them. Let us not separate our children for fear of scaring or annoying them, but for joy of growing and preparing them.


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this second essay was one of the last essays i wrote and i call it 'Journey of a Lifetime'...

I was an American. I ate the food, spent the money, abused the rights, and bathed in the selfishness. I was this person and I did not even realize it. Like everyone else I didn’t think of places beyond these safe borders. I was oblivious to the war, destruction and poverty that was raping our neighboring countries. I was living in a warm and comfortable cocoon. I was an American that took a trip, a trip to Uganda, Africa. On that trip my life was changed and my heart was transformed. A thousand sights, countless odors and tastes, endless hearts of gratitude and humility, all these things cleared my once distorted definition of happiness. I traveled to a new nation, lived with a new tribe, and heard a native tongue. Leaving my home a loyal supporter; I was prepared to stand up for my country. Blind was I to the flaws, to the brewing volcano of selfishness and dissatisfaction. I went to Uganda to change the people, and make the place they lived better. I wanted to make their home more like my home that was several thousand miles away. Was I ready for the transformation and opening of my own heart? Was I prepared to suddenly hate my own home? It was the journey of a lifetime.
Sitting here looking out this window, my gaze is stopped at the reflection staring back at me. I cannot look beyond the difference that has occurred in this girl. The sounds, smells, sights and experiences of Africa daily resound in my heart and mind. I traveled to Uganda and saw such contrasts in cultures. From the differences of seasons to the varying language, I lived for six weeks that were in no ways like my home across the ocean. Upon my first day in Africa, I recognized the first big contrast that I will never forget; it was the thankfulness and delight of the people. America seeks instant gratification. We are a ‘go and conquer’ generation. With new technology and ‘conveniences’ always arising we have learned to gripe our way to achieving our wants. It is an ungrateful country. Our morals have diminished and even our common sense has faded. If selfishness, greed and discontentment gauged whether a country prospered and survived or not, America would not survive to see another century. In contrast, my perception of Uganda and its people was very different from that of this United States. I saw several young children gather together to cut a water bottle apart in hopes of getting a few last drops of water. These incidents only happen in Uganda, not in America. I saw a woman whose husband had been just killed in the gun fire of war; raise her heart and hands in praise. Joy and sorrow mingled. Gratitude, joy, pain, and awe could only be expressed through luminous eyes and whispered words. To see the hands of fourteen children reaching out to a single loaf of banana bread, their gratitude going beyond words. My trip was not a story; it was a reality. When joy cannot be expressed through a smile or even tears, you know it is genuine. Crumbs are licked off of the ground; a burning pile of garbage is hope for the next meal. The greatest achievement is in finishing school, flies eat at open wounds, clothes are not a necessity and a bottle of coke is a great gift. Music is their escape and their circumstances do not daunt them. This is a place where only your eyes can speak for you. This is Uganda. This is reality. “Do not judge men by mere appearances; for the light laughter that bubbles on the lip often mantles over the depth of sadness, and the serious look may be the sober veil that covers a divine peace and joy”(Edward Chapin). This is Africa, a place of unexplainable joy and apparent contentment. More gratefulness can never be found. Humility in America could never compare to the humility of these people. Yet in my travels I found a significant comparison, a likeness, between these two distinct countries.
Have you ever seen child searching for a lost toy? Their thoughts, attitude, and day are consumed by the worry for this lost toy. There is no joy till the misplaced toy is found. Each day in America, each day in Uganda, I saw those searching “children”. The people of Uganda, the people of America were and are searching for the same thing. Meaning. What is the meaning of this life? Why are we here? Some find it in money, others power or status. Friends and lovers fill the question of meaning to some. In Africa, meaning comes in health and safety; peace and prosperity. How many times has each of us searched for a purpose, a passion, a meaning in our life. The simple yet penetrating words of Pennses comes to me, “When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity that lies before and after it, when I consider the little space I fill and I see, engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant, and which know me not, I rest frightened, and astonished, for there is no reason why I should be here rather than there. Why now rather than then? Who has put me here? By whose order and direction have this place and time has been ascribed to me?”(Pennses). This life is filled with questions. For the American the question might be, “Why didn’t I get that raise or that better job? Why does my family feel so distant?” For an African the query might include, “Why this war? Why was my home burned to the ground and my family taken?” But every place I have gone the essence comes in how each person reacts to and handles the confusion, the questions. Wherever I travel, wherever I roam, I see people searching. America and Africa compare in their similar quests to find meaning, hope, and security.
Stepping into the airport terminal I smelled the familiar air of home. Home? My heart sank with the knowledge that I was no longer in Kampala, Uganda. “Strength. Peace. Lord, give me your love for this place.” I was an American returning home, yet my heart was still beating thousands of miles away; I left my heart in Africa. I hated this place, I hated America. This was a loyal supporter, a fierce lover of the red white and blue. So who was this new red dirt stained rebel? I went on the journey of a lifetime, and my life was altered dramatically. Once again my eyes were confronted with the contrast of these places. Joy and appreciation were unattainable in this egocentric culture. Oh Africa, oh for the love and songs of your hearts. Yet once again, I perceived that seeking that I found even across the ocean in the safari grass lands. Searching, seeking, purpose driven people were here, they were there. Africa and America: a clash of cultures, a mix of the human heart. I will never forget.

in response....

.....today Amanda asked me why my blog was looking so old, poorly, and outdated......in response i replied that the past several months had kept me on my toes with the demands of work and school and the social life that i did not have...(more plainly and honestly i said.."i'm lazy.") anywho i was feeling guilty and sleep wasn't ready to come to me yet so i sat down to newly decorate or just attempt to interestingly refurbish my page of pictures and posts. Pictures? well i did shoot a wedding on friday but unfortunately i got the underhand of the deal and found a pile of blurry and dark photos under my name, so pictures?.....no, not now but with discipline and sun they will come.....also tonite here in this missouri house i was sorting through my facebook (aka bane of my existence) inbox and came across a brief interlude about Africa that i had sent to a dear friend and upon asking Manda if i had sent it to them i realized i hadn't shared around my....sigh....'African Sentiments'...so i was excited to know that i had something to fill up space here! but really i feel like You can't put an exclamation point before such a writing as is coming.....i think i'm sounding silly with this formal language....(i want to be like me big sister Bec, i don't think i can ever stop trying, but i think that sounds more like a personal journal entry now.....) but really most honestly and dearly from my heart i hope and have faith that my writings upon returning from Uganda Africa will touch your heart as it broke mine.....

Several weeks into my trip we took a break from the usual trip to the orphanage, hospital, school, and juvenile detention center and we made a special trip to a place we only knew as JaJa's. JaJa's was an orphanage that was begun by a single elderly woman (named JaJa) with a heart for the Lord and for orphaned children. JaJa lived in a two bedrooom house with a small dirt kitchen, no doors or windows and dangerously cracked roof and walls. She began to take in orphaned children and before 4 months was up she had 28 children sleeping within the crumbling walls of her home. JaJa became a mother and provider to these children. 5 months after taking these children into her care JaJa passed away. A two bedroom house became home to 28 Ugandan and Kenyan children who took care and provided for each other. When our team came to the home children swarmed our van as we drove up, such joy and happiness in their eyes was overwhelming even in their situation. We stayed there for several hours, getting aquainted with the children, doing our best to tidy up the houses, carrying water in old water cans from the well, and cutting the grass outside the house. One of the girls of 10 or 11 and I washed the dishes. I was overcome when we began washing the dishes in fridgid water, a bar of soap about the size of a penny and a strip of sack that we pulled up off the street. Up to my elbows in soapy water with a beautiful african girl singing beside me I called out to God to break my heart and bring me back to this place. As we waved goodbye to the children that day, they knew we had no intentions of coming back yet gratefulness and love still filled their eyes and they chased the van down the dusty road. In their minds they were running after their only hope. There were no plans to go back to that place but my heart was pulled there. Later that week I talked to Mama on the phone and told her about my experiance at JaJa's. Mama went to the church and mentioned the need that I had seen. Well you know the rest from there. But about a week later $1200 was dropped into my bank account. Money that was ready to be used for the glory of God. As a brief overview as to where the money went, about a week after the first visit to JaJa's William and one of the African team mates and I visited the orphanage again, in one hour we went over the general needs of the house and made up a list, as we left I looked the oldest orphan in the eyes and said to her "we will come back". The rest of the week I pulled some money from the account and traveled from market to market collecting the essentials to get this home of children through six more months. We got blankets, rice, beans, oil, knives, plates and cups, water jugs, potatoes, etc. We scheduled to go and visit them that weekend and cook lunch for them that day. On Saturday we loaded up the vans and bumped down the dusty road to a broken down, dilapidated home that was built strongly on their love for eachother. That afternoon I saw childrens smiles, I felt a small head lay against my heart, I smelled boiling potatoes and fresh cut fruit, and I heard prayers of joy and thanks sent up to heaven. We cooked a lunch that afternoon (complete with bottles of coke for all!) for 28 children, when the meal was ready to serve the entire village was there to eat. It was the story of 5,000 feed by 2 fish and 5 loaves, retold African style! There was food to spare when the meal was over. That afternoon was one of the most humbling and beautiful experiances I had in Africa. These Africans do not show their joy or appreciation, they cannont laugh or smile or even cry, they can't even look at you, they are so so overcome with no way to show their emotion, yet it spoke the loudest to my heart. To feed that family and help them through the next 6 months cost $150. So the money that was left over was used to build walls in a little school where they were using bamboo to seperate the classes, it sent the oldest girl of JaJas orphanage to 4 years of University and all the essentials she needed, and it built a new house for a family in the village of Kyambago. This family of a widowed mother and 5 children, lived in a two room house that the walls shook when touched, two beds, the pigs and chickens slept with them, there was no light to see by and no room to move around, we built them a new house in three days at double the size. This money was used in a mighty mighty way! How incredible it was to see these gifts from this church go and spread themselves over Uganda. Thank you.

I saw, smelled, touched, and experianced more than I felt that my heart could handle. But never had I felt more alive than in this place. There is once experiance that impacted and fractured my heart in a tremendous way. It hurts me to relive this moment, this experiance, but by the grace of God, I am a testimony. So let me begin with a passage from the Word of God."When he came down from the mountianside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, "Lord, if you are willing you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing. Be clean." Immediately the man was cured of his eprosy. Then Jesus said to him, "See that you don't tell anyone, but go show yourself to the priest and offer the gift Moses commanded, as a testimony to them"-Matthew 8:1-4August 5, 2009"How can I even begin to explain what happened today?This morning we went to the Katalemwa hospital. When I passed by the physical therapy room at the hostpital, I briefly glimpsed a body lying on the floor, quaking. Hands and feet ridgidly extended into the air. Just the glimpse told me that I didn't want to witness what was lying there. I stood akwardly in the courtyard with my back to the door. The group moved along to a classroom where we welcomed kids in casts or with deformities. I couldn't handle my own conceince or the probing of God. Slipping out quietly I slowly waked back to the physiotherapy room, knowing that what I was going to see could be sickening. Stopping outside the doorway seeing the now still body lying on a thin mat, almost made me turn back. I stepped inside. His name was William. When I came close to him I waved a greeting. He began to quiver again, his hands and feet extended into the air. As i bent down onto the mat and placed my hand on one of his mangled limbs, his mouth opened into a smile. I almost ran. But I stayed to see. His mouth was blackened from the lips inward. His gums were glowing red, in the place where teeth should have been, green ozing sores made his smile. The smell was unbelivable. Flies crawled freely in his mouth, ears, and eyes and all over his body. As I began to talk to him and tell him my name and the adventures of Alaska, he began a mix of cry and laugh. His eyes were just calling for help and attention. The smile never left his face. I tried to brush the flies away. i talked with him and pattted his hand, but my heart was completely numb and shocked. After several minuts another patient was brought into the room. He cried and screamed. His head was swollen grotesquely. His arms and legs were unusually long and seemed like twisted sticks. He was missing an eye and an infected hole bore into his stomach. Ants and flies crawled freely over his body as well. The smell, the sight, the realization was torturous. He looked at me and tears clouded his eyes. I could only take his hand and look at the floor. Leaving the room that day and waving Goodbye to William. I knew something had changed." That day, I didn't witness a miraculous healing. I didn't see a lame man walk, or an open wound close. I saw something simplistic, yet something that couldn't be grasped by an everyday American. I saw an open heart. He was the same man in Matthew 8 that cried out saying "Lord, I am willing, cleanse me!" And the Lord did, he humbled this mans heart, and opened his soul to be loved. His healing was far greater than that of any physical healing. I was humbled. He was glorified.August 29, 2009"Flying. Amsterdam to Washington. My trip to Uganda, Africa is over, the trip home has began. God, I want to be lead by you, living and loving through you. Surrendering. Delighting. Being filled by your joy. I'm not in Africa anymore, but my heart is still there. I can't even cry. I can't expect. I can't even write within these pages the depth or pungency of my experiance. There and back again. It wasn't a story. It was a reality. How do I even process? When joy cannot be expressed through a smile or tears, you know it is genuine. When a water bottle is cut in half to get the last drops of water, when crumbs are licked off of the ground. When a burning pile of garbage might hold hope to be your next meal. Where a great achievement is in finishing school. When home and school are the only places you have been. When you walk miles a day with a jerican of slimy red water to drink, pressing down on your head. When flies eat at open wounds. Where clothes are not a necessity and coke is a great gift. Where Americans are you hope for the future. Where your music is your escape. Where there is no surprise of circumstances. Where only your eyes can speak for you.That is Uganda.That is reality."
-EmilyElizabeth