Just kidding.
This is now old news, but I let the thing molder in my drafts, afraid of something. Afraid of you.
I crossed the ocean to live permanently in the US. The point of no return was this January when I didn't renew my teaching contract in Morocco.
I had things to do:
make more money
be away from an inherently sexist culture (Sure it's bad here; it's worse there.)
be accessible to my family
engage in a culture
I hope this ordering of priorities is not accurate.
This land, this land that is yours and mine, has been mysterious and painful to me as I returned to it. For all I can tell over the past four months, the good things happening were not caused by me, and the bad things happening were not my responsibility to fix. My whole responsibility, especially this summer, seemed to be to watch and listen.
Watch at the Starbucks outside of JFK, where the plain-clothes cop raised his arm to get the creamer, and revealed his handgun sticking out of his jeans.
Listen to my niece's stories about our family over the last year.
Watch as traffic moves in a slick rhythm on a very fast highway.
Listen to the radio announcer tell who is to blame, and understand every word. Understand nothing.
Watch as the people I love reach out, and out, and out. And reach back. Tentatively at first.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Monday, November 19, 2018
White Card
It was mine the moment my Mom chose my Dad.
Families go way back.
Sharing this same faith (at
least it looks that way) (at
least that's what you said then).
Decisions made in childhood
trickle down through my hometown.
You didn't see me at the country club,
but, sure.
I can shout about the power that sours on
color on cue at the view of a brother
approaching as you clutch your Coach.
Sure, but
no routine traffic stop
will look like a butcher shop when
my white skin absolves me of my minor violations.
Without
hesitation
let off with a warning in pen that only writes in white.
Families go way back.
Sharing this same faith (at
least it looks that way) (at
least that's what you said then).
Decisions made in childhood
trickle down through my hometown.
You didn't see me at the country club,
but, sure.
I can shout about the power that sours on
color on cue at the view of a brother
approaching as you clutch your Coach.
Sure, but
no routine traffic stop
will look like a butcher shop when
my white skin absolves me of my minor violations.
Without
hesitation
let off with a warning in pen that only writes in white.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Neither/Nor
This space is ever more public, ever more widely read, and I am painfully conscious of how public a life a teacher must live. My everyday musings have earned me the occasional accusations of too conservative and more often too liberal. How both?
I've been working through what it means to be a true friend in a polarized society. So rarely are we called upon to say what we really think. We volunteer opinions under threat of disapproval, even shunning from our communities, and despite the ever higher price, we volunteer our opinions. Why do we do it? It would be much easier to be silent, to stop at praying for peace. Another question: why is the price so high for having an opinion? Why do we care so much about each other's opinions?
Policy opinions that we will never touch, might never even vote on, have become shorthand for what kind of person we are. The ideas are so big, so full of paradoxical facts, that we don't do research deep enough to get to the truth. I find myself frustrated even in the shallow end. "What is truth?" And I wash my hands of what I don't understand.
Here's what bothers me right now. I have not yet put feet to what I hold to be our real charge—not just voting on how the government will care for the poor, but really caring for people who have needs they can't meet: clothing the poor and the feeding the hungry; visiting the sick and those in prison; caring for orphans and widows (or our modern-day equivalent for people without a livelihood).
Neither side of the aisle seems to be doing that, but Jesus, don't let me wait to take action.
I've been working through what it means to be a true friend in a polarized society. So rarely are we called upon to say what we really think. We volunteer opinions under threat of disapproval, even shunning from our communities, and despite the ever higher price, we volunteer our opinions. Why do we do it? It would be much easier to be silent, to stop at praying for peace. Another question: why is the price so high for having an opinion? Why do we care so much about each other's opinions?
Policy opinions that we will never touch, might never even vote on, have become shorthand for what kind of person we are. The ideas are so big, so full of paradoxical facts, that we don't do research deep enough to get to the truth. I find myself frustrated even in the shallow end. "What is truth?" And I wash my hands of what I don't understand.
Here's what bothers me right now. I have not yet put feet to what I hold to be our real charge—not just voting on how the government will care for the poor, but really caring for people who have needs they can't meet: clothing the poor and the feeding the hungry; visiting the sick and those in prison; caring for orphans and widows (or our modern-day equivalent for people without a livelihood).
Neither side of the aisle seems to be doing that, but Jesus, don't let me wait to take action.
Friday, August 31, 2018
Two Months' Recapitulation
I've been recalibrating my sleep schedule, my eating schedule, my day-to-day life. Here is a small timeline of the summer, starting with my return to the U.S.
June 30: Back in the U.S.
July 2: Acquired a phone. (This is a long story of Sprint and the horror that is all U.S. mobile networks. Not a fan.)
July 1-9: Borrowed cars, driving to various family gatherings.
July 10: Was officially hired at a private Mennonite school, mere minutes before losing cell phone reception for a week of camping. (Wow. What a great fit. What a great story of God working things out and me circling through frustration, cluelessness, grief, and trust. Maybe I'll write it here someday, but probably not.)
July 10-18: Camped at Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina with Jake; visited his sister in Tennessee.
July 19-31: Drove back and forth from Baltimore in yet more borrowed cars; slept at Plum Street in borrowed beds while my friends rotated in and out on vacation. This was the hardest part of the summer. I had a ton of errands to do to build a sustainable life. Meanwhile, I was searching for a car I could own, and rather uncertain as to where I would find to live for the year.
August 1: Bought a Honda Civic at Carmax. Couldn't sleep.
August 2: Returned the car to Carmax.
August 3: Bought a different Honda Civic from a different place for 1/4 of the Carmax price.
August 1-11: Stayed at Dale and Kendra's house while they were on a cruise; cared for Kendra's rabbits.
August 11-12: Visited my niece and nephew. They're so tall, bright, interesting.
August 13-15: Moved in to Plum Street
August 16-30: Work began. I was so far behind in doing all the putzing around a classroom that it takes to get a schoolyear organized. I'm still doing those things: deciding on how to grade, deciding on early units, deciding on policies, decorating, laminating, buying necessary school supplies. On a weekend in there, I coordinated Krystle's wedding day.
I have been finding footing, figuring out how to do all the normal things in new ways with very little continuity or routine to reward me. There has to be a better word than "busy."
It must be said that almost none of these things was done without help and support. The first draft of this post had each person's name and what they did for me this summer. But I hesitate to post it, because I know you did the things with no expectation of praise in this life. I think you did it because you love God and because you love me, and I will not hear differently. I'm so, so grateful. I will list some of the names, though, because I feel I must for my own sake:
Jake, Dan, Mom, Coley, Bethany, Elizabeth, Sarah, Carmen, Kendra, Dale, Christine, Luke G., Sara G., MJ, Leah, Krystle, Monica, Chadwick, Cathy S. Thank you.
June 30: Back in the U.S.
July 2: Acquired a phone. (This is a long story of Sprint and the horror that is all U.S. mobile networks. Not a fan.)
July 1-9: Borrowed cars, driving to various family gatherings.
July 10: Was officially hired at a private Mennonite school, mere minutes before losing cell phone reception for a week of camping. (Wow. What a great fit. What a great story of God working things out and me circling through frustration, cluelessness, grief, and trust. Maybe I'll write it here someday, but probably not.)
July 10-18: Camped at Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina with Jake; visited his sister in Tennessee.
July 19-31: Drove back and forth from Baltimore in yet more borrowed cars; slept at Plum Street in borrowed beds while my friends rotated in and out on vacation. This was the hardest part of the summer. I had a ton of errands to do to build a sustainable life. Meanwhile, I was searching for a car I could own, and rather uncertain as to where I would find to live for the year.
August 1: Bought a Honda Civic at Carmax. Couldn't sleep.
August 2: Returned the car to Carmax.
August 3: Bought a different Honda Civic from a different place for 1/4 of the Carmax price.
August 1-11: Stayed at Dale and Kendra's house while they were on a cruise; cared for Kendra's rabbits.
August 11-12: Visited my niece and nephew. They're so tall, bright, interesting.
August 13-15: Moved in to Plum Street
August 16-30: Work began. I was so far behind in doing all the putzing around a classroom that it takes to get a schoolyear organized. I'm still doing those things: deciding on how to grade, deciding on early units, deciding on policies, decorating, laminating, buying necessary school supplies. On a weekend in there, I coordinated Krystle's wedding day.
I have been finding footing, figuring out how to do all the normal things in new ways with very little continuity or routine to reward me. There has to be a better word than "busy."
It must be said that almost none of these things was done without help and support. The first draft of this post had each person's name and what they did for me this summer. But I hesitate to post it, because I know you did the things with no expectation of praise in this life. I think you did it because you love God and because you love me, and I will not hear differently. I'm so, so grateful. I will list some of the names, though, because I feel I must for my own sake:
Jake, Dan, Mom, Coley, Bethany, Elizabeth, Sarah, Carmen, Kendra, Dale, Christine, Luke G., Sara G., MJ, Leah, Krystle, Monica, Chadwick, Cathy S. Thank you.
Sunday, July 29, 2018
How Mt. Toubkal Happened and With Whom
It started as Katie suggesting that they climb a mountain and I overheard. She invited me with vigor: "come, climb Toubkal with us!"
"I will!" So in mid-January I wrote it into my calendar for June.
By May it was time to start taking the invitation seriously, because plans had to be made. It just so happened that I was in conversation with a fascinating fellow around that time, and it made a lot of sense to invite him to hike the highest mountain in North Africa. So he came to Morocco, saw my school, saw me finishing out my job for the year, helped me to grade finals; he wore the same clothes for two days because his luggage was lost; met all my people at school; then navigated our way to Imlil on a Friday in June.
We drove from sea level to 5,700 feet elevation, then climbed six hours to the refuge which rested at 10,500 feet. The next day we ascended the mountain, climbing an additional 3,000 feet. Those 3,000 feet to the top were ridiculous. Loose scree made me want to hurry to get away from the rough sliding near ledges of rock. But hurrying without skill is a bad idea. Regardless of rough earth, the higher we climbed, the harder the hike became due to altitude. I became discouraged. It wasn't schadenfreude that made me glad when I saw my friend, the ever-athletic Danielle, was also having difficulty—it was grace that helped me not to feel incapable.
I required stopping every two minutes so I could rest and breathe. The problem with resting every two minutes is that you never gain momentum. Another problem is that a mere 100 meters from the summit means we were hiking rather closer to the mountain's edge than I would like. I had to confess that the panic wasn't all altitude, but the fact that I'm afraid of heights. Jake kept a steady stream of travel stories flowing after hearing that, proving himself to be a hero many times over. He also saved at least three people from severe dehydration, but that breaks the timeline.
Summitting was worth it. Of course it was worth it. Who holds their baby and says, "meh"? But who holds their baby and says, "time to plan another one!"? We still had to get down the mountain.
Ya'll. What you will read on most blogs is that it takes an hour and a half to descend to the refuge. It took us three hours. We had knee issues, toe issues, me-being-slow issues. But what hearts! To recall it nearly brings me to tears how sweet and patient each one was with the other. All ten of us ascended and descended, and it took all day.
What an incredible shower (in the dark, another story, perhaps) I enjoyed when we jogged up the steps of the refuge.
The next day, Stacey of the pained-knees found a mule to take her back to Imlil, and for Jake and me it was another six hours of hiking: four extremely pleasant, and two in which the world's biggest big-toe blister had begun to cry out for attention. She earned a name and has a story all her own, too. I suppose mountain stories are the archetype of the anticlimax. We made it. The end.
BONUS STORY!
Arriving at Imlil was still not home, as you know, and Stacey, Jake and I drove four more hours to Casa where we thought we would order in and feast (we did not) and all have a good night's sleep.
Alas for the latter! I awoke with a painful toothache and the next morning found Jake and me in a dentist's office awaiting an emergency root canal. And that about sums up our first set of dates.
"I will!" So in mid-January I wrote it into my calendar for June.
By May it was time to start taking the invitation seriously, because plans had to be made. It just so happened that I was in conversation with a fascinating fellow around that time, and it made a lot of sense to invite him to hike the highest mountain in North Africa. So he came to Morocco, saw my school, saw me finishing out my job for the year, helped me to grade finals; he wore the same clothes for two days because his luggage was lost; met all my people at school; then navigated our way to Imlil on a Friday in June.
We drove from sea level to 5,700 feet elevation, then climbed six hours to the refuge which rested at 10,500 feet. The next day we ascended the mountain, climbing an additional 3,000 feet. Those 3,000 feet to the top were ridiculous. Loose scree made me want to hurry to get away from the rough sliding near ledges of rock. But hurrying without skill is a bad idea. Regardless of rough earth, the higher we climbed, the harder the hike became due to altitude. I became discouraged. It wasn't schadenfreude that made me glad when I saw my friend, the ever-athletic Danielle, was also having difficulty—it was grace that helped me not to feel incapable.
I required stopping every two minutes so I could rest and breathe. The problem with resting every two minutes is that you never gain momentum. Another problem is that a mere 100 meters from the summit means we were hiking rather closer to the mountain's edge than I would like. I had to confess that the panic wasn't all altitude, but the fact that I'm afraid of heights. Jake kept a steady stream of travel stories flowing after hearing that, proving himself to be a hero many times over. He also saved at least three people from severe dehydration, but that breaks the timeline.
Summitting was worth it. Of course it was worth it. Who holds their baby and says, "meh"? But who holds their baby and says, "time to plan another one!"? We still had to get down the mountain.
Ya'll. What you will read on most blogs is that it takes an hour and a half to descend to the refuge. It took us three hours. We had knee issues, toe issues, me-being-slow issues. But what hearts! To recall it nearly brings me to tears how sweet and patient each one was with the other. All ten of us ascended and descended, and it took all day.
What an incredible shower (in the dark, another story, perhaps) I enjoyed when we jogged up the steps of the refuge.
The next day, Stacey of the pained-knees found a mule to take her back to Imlil, and for Jake and me it was another six hours of hiking: four extremely pleasant, and two in which the world's biggest big-toe blister had begun to cry out for attention. She earned a name and has a story all her own, too. I suppose mountain stories are the archetype of the anticlimax. We made it. The end.
BONUS STORY!
Arriving at Imlil was still not home, as you know, and Stacey, Jake and I drove four more hours to Casa where we thought we would order in and feast (we did not) and all have a good night's sleep.
Alas for the latter! I awoke with a painful toothache and the next morning found Jake and me in a dentist's office awaiting an emergency root canal. And that about sums up our first set of dates.
Thursday, July 26, 2018
How I Felt a Few Days After Returning From Morocco
I feel like I'm on the outside of the world looking in while I am unemployed.
I focus on the right now question. What is happening right now? The chicken is baking. The piano is silent. The house is full of expensive, cold air that insulates me from the summer I can see and hear out the windows, though it is all muffled by this air conditioning. The air is so conditioned that it conditions me.
The kitchen smells like onions and lime, waiting for the chicken to be finished. I salivate: when did I last eat a meal? Where have I been the last few days and weeks?
I have never traveled this far before, and I feel lost.
I focus on the right now question. What is happening right now? The chicken is baking. The piano is silent. The house is full of expensive, cold air that insulates me from the summer I can see and hear out the windows, though it is all muffled by this air conditioning. The air is so conditioned that it conditions me.
The kitchen smells like onions and lime, waiting for the chicken to be finished. I salivate: when did I last eat a meal? Where have I been the last few days and weeks?
I have never traveled this far before, and I feel lost.
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Right Now, Right Now
Over the last six months, I have had the opportunity to imagine and re-imagine what this time next year will look like. I feel...
Butterflies in my stomach!
What an incredible chance I have! To start a completely new thing! To see my friends and family! To date not-very-long-distance!
Tightness in my chest.
What a lot I have to decide. Living in the US is complicated and everything needs insurance. The job search was a painful process. The car search is complicated. The house search is pretty much over?
To avoid serious anxiety, Stacey sent me an article asking one question: what is happening right now? The idea is to take in your surroundings and acknowledge that you're not under threat (thank God!).
Right now the car tires zing the rainy streets. Right now the air conditioning hums. Right now I have had enough food, enough coffee, enough affection, enough time alone, and enough time in conversation. Right now I bask in a few finished chores. Right now my body does not hurt. Right now I am in grace. Thank you, God.
Butterflies in my stomach!
What an incredible chance I have! To start a completely new thing! To see my friends and family! To date not-very-long-distance!
Tightness in my chest.
What a lot I have to decide. Living in the US is complicated and everything needs insurance. The job search was a painful process. The car search is complicated. The house search is pretty much over?
To avoid serious anxiety, Stacey sent me an article asking one question: what is happening right now? The idea is to take in your surroundings and acknowledge that you're not under threat (thank God!).
Right now the car tires zing the rainy streets. Right now the air conditioning hums. Right now I have had enough food, enough coffee, enough affection, enough time alone, and enough time in conversation. Right now I bask in a few finished chores. Right now my body does not hurt. Right now I am in grace. Thank you, God.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
Whom Should We Serve First?
In LeRoy and Ania's house, they have a meal tradition. Ania is a very good cook, and it's my understanding that she does it often. Then all gather for the meal. After saying or singing grace, LeRoy serves the main dish.
"Sarah," he asks one of their daughters, "Who do you think should be served first?"
"Mama," she grins.
"Good," and he serves Ania. "And Sarah, who should we serve next?"
"The guest!" And he serves me.
"Naomi," LeRoy asks their quieter daughter, "Who should we serve next?"
"Sarah," Naomi responds.
"And Sarah," LeRoy turns, "who do you think we should serve next?"
"Naomi," Sarah responds. So LeRoy serves Naomi, then Sarah, and finally himself.
"Sarah," he asks one of their daughters, "Who do you think should be served first?"
"Mama," she grins.
"Good," and he serves Ania. "And Sarah, who should we serve next?"
"The guest!" And he serves me.
"Naomi," LeRoy asks their quieter daughter, "Who should we serve next?"
"Sarah," Naomi responds.
"And Sarah," LeRoy turns, "who do you think we should serve next?"
"Naomi," Sarah responds. So LeRoy serves Naomi, then Sarah, and finally himself.
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Emails With Kendra About Trusting God
November 15, 2017
Me:
[...] What will I do in eight months when I get off the plane from Morocco? I basically need to step into a job right away, and I cannot yet imagine what that will look like. And rightfully so, because it's maybe too soon for me to have the next step lined up. Would you pray with me about having peace despite not knowing? Would you pray that I would know which of the many adventures to choose, in good time?
It's like the light shines just steps ahead of all of us, for us to walk at full speed always straight into the darkness, illuminating it as we go. May God have glory in all our lives!
Ugh. Please... don't tell me I should fast. I know you're gonna tell me I should fast. Okay. Okay.
Thank you for reading this. I'll pray for you, too.
Love,
Carolyn
P.S. If you don't let me know how to pray for you, I'll just pray that God would "bless" you with a litter of kittens at your back door some morning. So, this is like a cosmic chain letter, and for most of you, that is a threat.
K.G.:
Lol.You know the "threat" goes both ways as we pray for Him lighting the path just enough so you know He's there, but not enough to have a clue where you're going neither with your [...] relationship or future who what when and where after Morocco. I mean, we don't even know what tomorrow will bring. So it can be threatening to free Jesus to release His best for us.
I am excited to pray ”threatening" prayers that free Him to bring you to places you never could have dreamed. Heck, you've already been to a lot of these places. Hard ones. Lovely ones.
I love you, Sweetness Seasoned with a Bit of Tart. Pure sweet is sickening. Your tart makes you special to me.
May 12, 2018
Me:
Thank you for your emails and for praying for me in the fall. I've had a little bit of heartache since that email asking you to pray for clarity. Clarity came. [...]
Now, in the time of searching for jobs and wrapping up my work [...] I'm trying to push aside all my concerns about money! I have a lot of options for temporary living spaces, and no job offers yet.[...] I am praying not to miss the boat by being lazy, to keep doing my work diligently. That's always been a tough call: when is the work enough, and you can just trust? Is this terrible theology?
[...]
Thank you for praying for me and loving me from a distance. I think of you often.
Love,
Carolyn
K.G.:
I feel that I have to resend my last response to your previous transparent sharing.
You are so right with the push pull action of faith-listening, and action. I'll just say it is a lot easier to turn a massive ship while it is in motion.
With a sense of excitement about where our Jesus is moving you next, you can open doors by applying for jobs, etc., but retain the listening ear. Carefully balance action and trust. Neither one without the other. Faith only, sitting there, expecting God to drop things in your lap is ok at times and with some people. But faithFULL
listening is mind-blowing, faith-building relationship. I speak of relationship as a verb, less of a noun.
You are so very beloved.
A visible, towering sunflower, lightening our world, bringing sunny times into my life.
Mwah!
Huggle!
Monday, April 30, 2018
Qualifications
I have been filling out applications for teaching, then, per their request, attaching a resume that says everything in the application.
I keep it professional for the most part, but in one particularly detailed application today, I was nearly to the final step when the form gave me an opening with some question like, "Is there anything else we should consider in the hiring process that this form has failed to ask about?"
There are so many other talents. Where do I even begin? I can do a plethora of things as a result of my former, less relevant job experience.
I can...
I keep it professional for the most part, but in one particularly detailed application today, I was nearly to the final step when the form gave me an opening with some question like, "Is there anything else we should consider in the hiring process that this form has failed to ask about?"
There are so many other talents. Where do I even begin? I can do a plethora of things as a result of my former, less relevant job experience.
I can...
- stuff a cannoli
- crack two eggs at once
- haggle for a rug in a souk
- wrap gifts very neatly, including curling the ribbon
- count letters in words very quickly
- count money in a cash drawer or a safe very quickly
- alphabetize all the letters in a word (e.g. Carolyn --> aclnory)
- say words backwards
- drive stick shift
- backfloat very well
- pick out glasses that look great on your face
- call your insurance company about your benefits
- follow you around a corn maze if I think you're drunk
- spin cotton candy
- fry Oreos
- whip up pancake batter
- lead any of several get-to-know-you games
- clean a bathroom in 35 seconds or less
- sense when someone is talking about me in another language
- curse in Mandarin, Arabic, French, and Spanish
- tell you where any item belongs in the Waynesboro Kmart in summer 2007
- recite all verses of the "Found a Peanut" song, including alternate endings
- make a lox and cream cheese bagel to die for
- make an espresso using a standard machine
- memorize specials
And cats like me.
Monday, April 16, 2018
Recitation
Assignment: Memorize and recite 20 lines of a poem; use appropriate pace, tone, gestures; connect with your audience. You have one week, ready, Go!
I stood in front of the class as if it were the first day I had ever stood in front of a class instead of the 3,000th. My hands shook, and my voice caught in my throat. I was momentarily Anne Shirley when she stood before all of her friends of Avonlea at the White Sands Hotel, prepared to recite "The Highwayman," while being seized with fear.
It's still a fresh feeling, the muscles and everything in me saying that it is a bad idea to speak words not my own. Then, to speak with spark is even more impossible. What evolutionary trait resulted in this fear? What am I preserving when I fear performance?
But then I began. Why was my voice suddenly so small? It was a hollow, tin whisper at the bottom of a well. I tried to draw myself up, speak from the diaphragm, banish signs of fear. All of that is rather a lot to do at once.
It's still a fresh feeling, the muscles and everything in me saying that it is a bad idea to speak words not my own. Then, to speak with spark is even more impossible. What evolutionary trait resulted in this fear? What am I preserving when I fear performance?
But then I began. Why was my voice suddenly so small? It was a hollow, tin whisper at the bottom of a well. I tried to draw myself up, speak from the diaphragm, banish signs of fear. All of that is rather a lot to do at once.
I recited Emily Dickinson's "Because I could not stop for Death" to a group of 11th-graders. I knew the poem cold, and still I floundered. It almost undid me. I continued to shake for minutes afterward, still teaching. I have no idea what it is about reciting something I have memorized. When my students ask me why I am not an actor, I know that this is why.
Sunday, April 15, 2018
I Will Watch That Movie If
- "Ragtag" is somewhere in the description.
- Shah Rukh Khan, Will Smith, or any of the Wayans brothers, is in it.
- It's based on a Jane Austen book.
- Someone must learn to dance.
- One or more characters undergo a montage transformation.
- Someone must go from poor to rich or from rich to poor. (They must "Trade Places," if you will.)
- I can immediately tell that there will be a happy ending.
- There is a heist.
- "...must learn that, in life, things don't always go as planned" is in the trailer.
- A remarkable child is the narrator.
- Morgan Freeman is the narrator.
- Tom Hanks and/or Meg Ryan are in it. Who am I kidding? It's Tom Hanks *and* Meg Ryan.
- Tina Fey and/or Amy Poehler did anything with it, to it, or near it.
Friday, April 13, 2018
Status: Doing All Right
It's the end of a quarter, so naturally I feel that I should be grading instead of writing this, but I'm taking a moment to evaluate my emotional state since mid-winter. I find that I took no time to slide down off of one sad farewell before leaping to another potential relationship. The pain was compounded. Maybe that's the problem with rebound relationships: you're not ready to approach the risk with a clear head; you aren't thinking about the risk, just thinking of feeling better. If and when the fall comes, it takes you by surprise because this was supposed to be your feel-good relationship, so how can it make you feel so bad?
After a month of attempts to install the Windows 10 update, I asked for help. It seemed the update had not installed after numerous attempts, but lo, and behold! thank the Lord above!, I have the beautiful privilege of using my computer. It is working for the moment, but another update could crash it. Anything could crash it. I have a new least-favorite brand, and they don't have a support center in Northern Africa, and they don't do refunds.
The job search has been a distant but real part of my daily stress. It has been the chord in a tug-of-war between trusting God and trying to be diligent, feeling like I'm not doing enough.
It seems like a lot to do, I mean... I've gotta move countries again. Gotta find a place to live when I find a job. A place that has a kitchen where everyone can hang out, living room be damned, if I have to choose.
I hesitated to write about this, because what if it sounds like whining, especially when I know that I did this to myself. It looks awfully masochistic, doesn't it? I knew this would be challenge upon challenge. Just because something is difficult doesn't mean it's not worth doing. Very often it's the opposite, as you well know.
After a month of attempts to install the Windows 10 update, I asked for help. It seemed the update had not installed after numerous attempts, but lo, and behold! thank the Lord above!, I have the beautiful privilege of using my computer. It is working for the moment, but another update could crash it. Anything could crash it. I have a new least-favorite brand, and they don't have a support center in Northern Africa, and they don't do refunds.
The job search has been a distant but real part of my daily stress. It has been the chord in a tug-of-war between trusting God and trying to be diligent, feeling like I'm not doing enough.
It seems like a lot to do, I mean... I've gotta move countries again. Gotta find a place to live when I find a job. A place that has a kitchen where everyone can hang out, living room be damned, if I have to choose.
I hesitated to write about this, because what if it sounds like whining, especially when I know that I did this to myself. It looks awfully masochistic, doesn't it? I knew this would be challenge upon challenge. Just because something is difficult doesn't mean it's not worth doing. Very often it's the opposite, as you well know.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Grit
I've been watching, and yes, rewatching a boot camp reality tv show. It is inspiring television, let me tell you! The recruits were forced to do a five-kilometer hike carrying a 180-kilo log. When they had reached their destination, the drill sergeant said, simply, "Do it again."
The camera crew asked one recruit if he thought it was unfair. "This is life," he said without malice; even with humor, he said that. His forehead sweaty, a rye laugh: this is life. I love that.
I don't often think I have a lot of grit. I can give up pretty easily. Even if I don't give up, I am prone to complaining.
But here are two times when I didn't give up recently, because I was thinking about how much stamina and humor the recruits on this show had.
1. When I was doing a really challenging section of workout, I kept going. Burpee-pushup-box-jumps. It's a real thing.
2. When I had to pay our internet bill, and tried no fewer than eight ATMs.
---
Here is where I catch myself. If I truly had grit, perhaps I would not go on to tell you the particulars of the inconvenience this entailed. But you cannot possibly grasp the difficulty of the situation unless I explain. Someone with grit may not need you to grasp the situation. But I do need you to understand, if I can make it happen at all.
Here goes.
We had not received an internet bill for at least two months. The reminders I had placed on my phone were not enough for me, and the internet was shut off as of yesterday evening. I boarded the bus headed toward the city immediately after work, and made a beeline for the Maroc Telecom where one pays for internet. This is distinct from the Maroc Telecom where one buys internet.
I had no Moroccan money, only US money, and needed to find an ATM where I could withdraw dirhams using my US bank card.
I walked from ATM to ATM looking for a working, international-friendly one. After covering two kilometers in walking, I managed to get 400 dirhams, plenty to cover the bill, from a BMCE kiosk. Ah, but pause! I had recently heard you could pay your bill at a Telecom kiosk nearby! This I attempted to do with my US card. No luck. I went inside. I'm sorry, no, we don't accept payment here, that one is 600 meters down the street.
Briskly walking back four blocks to the Maroc Telecom where we pay, the agent there told me we in fact now owed two months of internet, not one.
"OH!? Could I see those bills, please?"
"We don't give print-outs here. That one is 600 meters down the street."
"Forget it." Still, quite the pickle, considering my limited cash. We tried my American card, no way. I needed more cash.
"When do you close?"
"In 15 minutes."
"I will return!"
And I did. And I paid it.
If I had not been watching Special Forces: Ultimate Hell Week on repeat for the last two weeks, would I have had the determination to try two Credit Du Maroc, two Banque Populaire, one Societe Generale, one BMCE, and three Attijariwafa ATMs in my attempts to pay the Hydra-headed bill? I doubt it.
The camera crew asked one recruit if he thought it was unfair. "This is life," he said without malice; even with humor, he said that. His forehead sweaty, a rye laugh: this is life. I love that.
I don't often think I have a lot of grit. I can give up pretty easily. Even if I don't give up, I am prone to complaining.
But here are two times when I didn't give up recently, because I was thinking about how much stamina and humor the recruits on this show had.
1. When I was doing a really challenging section of workout, I kept going. Burpee-pushup-box-jumps. It's a real thing.
2. When I had to pay our internet bill, and tried no fewer than eight ATMs.
---
Here is where I catch myself. If I truly had grit, perhaps I would not go on to tell you the particulars of the inconvenience this entailed. But you cannot possibly grasp the difficulty of the situation unless I explain. Someone with grit may not need you to grasp the situation. But I do need you to understand, if I can make it happen at all.
Here goes.
We had not received an internet bill for at least two months. The reminders I had placed on my phone were not enough for me, and the internet was shut off as of yesterday evening. I boarded the bus headed toward the city immediately after work, and made a beeline for the Maroc Telecom where one pays for internet. This is distinct from the Maroc Telecom where one buys internet.
I had no Moroccan money, only US money, and needed to find an ATM where I could withdraw dirhams using my US bank card.
I walked from ATM to ATM looking for a working, international-friendly one. After covering two kilometers in walking, I managed to get 400 dirhams, plenty to cover the bill, from a BMCE kiosk. Ah, but pause! I had recently heard you could pay your bill at a Telecom kiosk nearby! This I attempted to do with my US card. No luck. I went inside. I'm sorry, no, we don't accept payment here, that one is 600 meters down the street.
Briskly walking back four blocks to the Maroc Telecom where we pay, the agent there told me we in fact now owed two months of internet, not one.
"OH!? Could I see those bills, please?"
"We don't give print-outs here. That one is 600 meters down the street."
"Forget it." Still, quite the pickle, considering my limited cash. We tried my American card, no way. I needed more cash.
"When do you close?"
"In 15 minutes."
"I will return!"
And I did. And I paid it.
If I had not been watching Special Forces: Ultimate Hell Week on repeat for the last two weeks, would I have had the determination to try two Credit Du Maroc, two Banque Populaire, one Societe Generale, one BMCE, and three Attijariwafa ATMs in my attempts to pay the Hydra-headed bill? I doubt it.
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Three Years' Worth of Valentine's Day Posts
Valentine's Day 2016
I received a Valentine's card from Johnny D. at work. He has Down's Syndrome, and doesn't read. He chose the card especially for me, though... It reads, "You're still the reason I can't wait to get home each day."
I bought chocolate-covered strawberries to share with the Bible quiz team, but forgot to bring them to practice. I ended up eating them with roommates.
In the car on Saturday, Charlene gave me one of her silk roses, sharing her gift from another friend.
My aunt and uncle gave me and my cousins beautiful flowers. Uncle Ralph made a special trip to my cousin's house to drop them off, and I got them when I went to cousin lunch. What a delight!
It is bothering me that I did not give anything thematic this weekend. I barely got places on time. I enjoyed the fruit of others' labor, and ate well and drove a lot, and hope it was helpful. But I didn't think far enough ahead to write a note or buy a gift. The one thing I did buy, I forgot to give, and ended up eating myself. (I am so serious: I just finished the last strawberry.)
Valentine's Day 2017
I was a million miles away from everyone I love. It was chilly and rainy this week. I went to French class at the end of the day, and home afterward, and probably did an hour's worth of work and watched a show on Netflix before getting ready for bed.
Did love cross my mind? Maybe in that self-pitying way that asks, "where is the love owed me?" But I can't remember.
Did love cross my mind? Maybe in that self-pitying way that asks, "where is the love owed me?" But I can't remember.
Valentine's Day 2018
I participated in nine parent-teacher conferences for at-risk students. I spoke very little in these meetings. At some, there were 14 adults, including parents, teachers, administrators, all sitting with a student to say, "We care about you. We see you're failing. What is going on?"
I stayed on campus to attend the school play, and to discourage disruptive behavior in the audience. Then I struggled to keep my eyes open long enough to get ready for bed.
I was tired, but happy to find at the end of the day that some of what I had done was loving.
I participated in nine parent-teacher conferences for at-risk students. I spoke very little in these meetings. At some, there were 14 adults, including parents, teachers, administrators, all sitting with a student to say, "We care about you. We see you're failing. What is going on?"
I stayed on campus to attend the school play, and to discourage disruptive behavior in the audience. Then I struggled to keep my eyes open long enough to get ready for bed.
I was tired, but happy to find at the end of the day that some of what I had done was loving.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
"Merlin" Is My Personal Favorite
I don't teach spelling. And it doesn't lower my students' hand-written essay grades if they mess up with spelling, as long as it's understandable. As I read their essays (many of them very thoughtful!) on The Great Gatsby, I found a surprising variety for ways of spelling "Myrtle."
Martyle
Merlin
Mertal
Mertil
Mertin
Merytial
Merytile
Mrytle
Myrle
Myrtile
Myrttle
Mytle
Martyle
Merlin
Mertal
Mertil
Mertin
Merytial
Merytile
Mrytle
Myrle
Myrtile
Myrttle
Mytle
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Year's End Reflections, 2017
Where were you on NYE 2017?
-Oncle Blend restaurant, Casablanca
Who were you with on NYE 2017?
-Stacey, Shanti, Mandy, Llewelyn, and their two sweet friends
What was the hardest you laughed in 2017?
-H period, grade 7... Fidu got stuck under some desks, and his face was the strangest mixture of terror and surprise. I laugh until I pee just retelling it!
What was the best moment of 2017?
-sitting on the front steps, held close, holding Scrappy the cat, looking up at the moon and the minaret.
What was an embarrassing moment of 2017?
-It had to do with an Uber, and a bunch of taxi drivers calling the police, and my cousins seeing me lose my mind.
What day in 2017 would you live over and over?
-There were so many beautiful trips, people, and days this year. It was a charmed year. I would re-live a trip to the zoo in Chicago, an evening in Prague, an afternoon on the dunes of Merzouga... But whole days that I remember:
Who were you with on NYE 2017?
-Stacey, Shanti, Mandy, Llewelyn, and their two sweet friends
What was the hardest you laughed in 2017?
-H period, grade 7... Fidu got stuck under some desks, and his face was the strangest mixture of terror and surprise. I laugh until I pee just retelling it!
What was the best moment of 2017?
-sitting on the front steps, held close, holding Scrappy the cat, looking up at the moon and the minaret.
What was an embarrassing moment of 2017?
-It had to do with an Uber, and a bunch of taxi drivers calling the police, and my cousins seeing me lose my mind.
What day in 2017 would you live over and over?
-There were so many beautiful trips, people, and days this year. It was a charmed year. I would re-live a trip to the zoo in Chicago, an evening in Prague, an afternoon on the dunes of Merzouga... But whole days that I remember:
-Stacey, Carolyn C., Sandy, and Marcia and I explored Paris for a day. Sandy had the map, and knew what was going on. I stared wide-eyed, feet only occasionally touching the ground.
-Carmen and I visited Rabat together this fall, and start to finish, it was so relaxing. We let our feet take us wherever there was movement: the casbah and the medina, an art museum, the mausoleum and the Tour Hassan II. We let our talk be whatever we thought of, and we thought of many interesting things.
What was your favorite song of 2017?
-"Ashes and Flames" by John Mark McMillan
What was your favorite movie/show of 2017?
-The Great British Bake-Off
What was your favorite song of 2017?
-"Ashes and Flames" by John Mark McMillan
What was your favorite movie/show of 2017?
-The Great British Bake-Off
-Brooklyn 99
Most memorable trip of 2017?
Most memorable trip of 2017?
-The top moment of the many trips was when my aunt and cousins came here, and we traveled an hour to the south of Casa. A sweet dog led us from our riad to a stony shore (not a typo; a dog led us there: magical, right?) where we watched the sun set from the eastern side of the Atlantic.
What was your biggest lesson of 2017?
-Love is a good risk. You can love.
Who was the most influential person in your year?
-Tyler
What was the bravest thing you did in 2017?
-I didn't make plans for winter break: three weeks to find solid ground, mostly alone.
What was the kindest thing you did in 2017?
-Probably one of those moments when I told the truth in order to benefit someone else, even though it cost me something to do it. I have no particular moment in mind, I just think that's a kind thing we can do for each other, out of earnest love and compassion.
What was the best advice you gave, or the best conversation you had in 2017?
-Two eleventh-grade girls stayed after school for help on their essays this fall. That conversation was a prize to me. They were such a delight to see outside of the classroom pressure and on their own terms.
What was your biggest lesson of 2017?
-Love is a good risk. You can love.
Who was the most influential person in your year?
-Tyler
What was the bravest thing you did in 2017?
-I didn't make plans for winter break: three weeks to find solid ground, mostly alone.
What was the kindest thing you did in 2017?
-Probably one of those moments when I told the truth in order to benefit someone else, even though it cost me something to do it. I have no particular moment in mind, I just think that's a kind thing we can do for each other, out of earnest love and compassion.
What was the best advice you gave, or the best conversation you had in 2017?
-Two eleventh-grade girls stayed after school for help on their essays this fall. That conversation was a prize to me. They were such a delight to see outside of the classroom pressure and on their own terms.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
In Review
Such a blurry, final video call—
the clatter of dishes and patrons around you—
your face looks so disappointed to see just me, the same me,
after all.
the clatter of dishes and patrons around you—
your face looks so disappointed to see just me, the same me,
after all.
Friday, January 26, 2018
Where You Lost Me
I pass you walking on Stadium Street.
Your holler dehumanizes you to me,
Me to you,
And I wonder what you would do
If I turned around and took you seriously:
"You don't want a girl like me, who'd expect equality. What would you do with that independent streak? We'd end up broken down and angry when I'd expect you to help; expect honesty. And you'll lose me when you demean some lady on the street. Do you see where you lost me?
"How are there so damn many of you?
Who do you go home to?"
Your holler dehumanizes you to me,
Me to you,
And I wonder what you would do
If I turned around and took you seriously:
"You don't want a girl like me, who'd expect equality. What would you do with that independent streak? We'd end up broken down and angry when I'd expect you to help; expect honesty. And you'll lose me when you demean some lady on the street. Do you see where you lost me?
"How are there so damn many of you?
Who do you go home to?"
Monday, January 22, 2018
Scenes from H Period
On Thursday, students in my last class of the day were begging me to "do the dance you do! Do the dance! It's like this!" They did some strange version of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" march. I was dumbfounded.
"I don't dance in class! That would be so inappropriate!"
Thursday night, as I was explaining something to my roommate, with growing animation, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and saw the dance. I dance to make a point. I apologized to those seventh-graders on Friday, partly for not owning up to dancing, partly for acting unprofessional by my very own definition. I said I could in no way guarantee that a relapse would not occur.
I laugh and laugh in that class. I try so hard to be serious, even giving detentions and subtracting points. It's probably unfair, when I cannot seem to keep myself under control.
Friday, I sat down at a desk during silent reading. The student next to me, I mean it, just his breathing made me laugh and I had to move.
During silent reading, with some regularity, I look up to find Adam doing something other than reading. I fix my glare on him. He shoots back a funny glare, and I realize I'm disarmed. I almost laugh and disrupt the class myself.
Adam: 1
McKalips: 0
"I don't dance in class! That would be so inappropriate!"
Thursday night, as I was explaining something to my roommate, with growing animation, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and saw the dance. I dance to make a point. I apologized to those seventh-graders on Friday, partly for not owning up to dancing, partly for acting unprofessional by my very own definition. I said I could in no way guarantee that a relapse would not occur.
I laugh and laugh in that class. I try so hard to be serious, even giving detentions and subtracting points. It's probably unfair, when I cannot seem to keep myself under control.
Friday, I sat down at a desk during silent reading. The student next to me, I mean it, just his breathing made me laugh and I had to move.
During silent reading, with some regularity, I look up to find Adam doing something other than reading. I fix my glare on him. He shoots back a funny glare, and I realize I'm disarmed. I almost laugh and disrupt the class myself.
Adam: 1
McKalips: 0
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Singing My History
I have lived a short history.
Today, I stood in the kitchen making pancakes from a recipe I have memorized, and I thought about how it has come into being through many adaptations, through many kitchens. I know they existed, because this recipe exists.
I started to sing a familiar song. That, too, even more than the pancake recipe, is a continuity with my past. Even though the kitchen bears no resemblance to my past kitchens, the sun and shade, the patterns on the tile walls are all unlike my past worlds: the song is from there, and the song exists inside me and outside me, and is evidence of another world.
I have had lots of different Christmas ornaments, wall hangings, measuring cups, and all of them are gone or packed away somewhere.
Songs carry my stories.
Today, I stood in the kitchen making pancakes from a recipe I have memorized, and I thought about how it has come into being through many adaptations, through many kitchens. I know they existed, because this recipe exists.
I started to sing a familiar song. That, too, even more than the pancake recipe, is a continuity with my past. Even though the kitchen bears no resemblance to my past kitchens, the sun and shade, the patterns on the tile walls are all unlike my past worlds: the song is from there, and the song exists inside me and outside me, and is evidence of another world.
I have had lots of different Christmas ornaments, wall hangings, measuring cups, and all of them are gone or packed away somewhere.
Songs carry my stories.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
Scenes From Prague Last Fall
Leaves are turning yellow here, and we walked among their falling last night.
There's a bright restaurant, all windows, along the river. It looks over at the castle in the nighttime.
The castle says, "I'm beautiful."
The restaurant says, "I'm alive."
---
The restaurant would trade its life for beauty in an instant, I think, because it does not slow down and breathe in that life. It is making money, money, money. We are in a little hurry to have fun and take in beauty and talk about having seen it. But we are alive, unlike every castle.
---
On Monday, we saw banana trees drooping low, bearing their lush bunches closer and closer to earth.
On Tuesday, we saw a wall of leafy vines, all turning from green to burnished red, draped over a wall.
Like a shawl.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
December Dedications
Friday, December 1
Today is dedicated to Elijah, whose life sings to me about struggle, pain, and the voice of God.
Saturday, December 2
Today is dedicated to talking in the kitchen.
Sunday, December 3 - Wednesday, December 6
These days are dedicated to having a job.
Thursday, December 7
Today is dedicated to the specialty grocery stores in CIL. You came through when I feared I would not drink root beer for another seven months.
Friday, December 8
Today is dedicated to your children. I love seeing them grow up on social media, and I love teaching them.
Saturday, December 9
Today is dedicated to online dating and its stories.
Sunday, December 10
Today is dedicated to "normal" days.
Monday, December 11
Today is dedicated to you, when you feel like the world is too much, the week is too long, the kids are too loud, and you're not enough. God is with us.
Tuesday, December 12
Today is dedicated to eyeliner. It's a beautiful thing to look in the mirror and say to oneself, "Who is that Bad*** B****?! Oh, that's just me wearing eyeliner!"
Wednesday, December 13
Today is dedicated to Scrappy the cat, who likes cuddles, and who jumps down from mosque rooftops to find me when she hears my keys jingle.
Thursday, December 14
Today is dedicated to Ralph Waldo Emerson and his Transcendentalists who offered a measure of truth, and whose individualism haunts us with its many grandchildren.
Friday, December 15
Today is dedicated to sentence diagramming. You heard me. Sentence Diagramming, you helped me not to have to think of a party game for hyperglycemic seventh-graders.
Saturday, December 16
Today is dedicated to twinkle lights.
Sunday, December 17
Today is dedicated to the fellowship and the generosity of your people, dear Lord. You tell us there is enough and more than enough.
Monday, December 18
Today is dedicated to women whose husbands have died.
Tuesday, December 19
Today is dedicated to babysitters everywhere, who made it possible for my friends to see Star Wars with me.
Wednesday, December 20
Today is dedicated to Shanti and her willingness to re-watch all of Game of Thrones, straight through from the beginning.
Thursday, December 21
Today is dedicated to Christa, one of those people who has endless inner resources, as best I can tell.
Friday, December 22
Today is dedicated to watching TV without guilt.
Saturday, December 23
Today is dedicated to the friends who stick around, eat soup, watch movies, and laugh so loudly and prettily that the movie doesn't even matter.
Sunday, December 24
Today is dedicated to disappointments. Finding your king as a baby in a stable. Finding yourself unable to help someone you love. Finding the road ahead to be treacherous. Finding you've used up all the chocolate chips.
Monday, December 25
Today is dedicated to the family that witnesses your birth; the family that witnesses your growth; the family that witnesses your daily deaths. Sometimes it's the same group of people, and sometimes it's a whole big mix.
Tuesday, December 26 - Thursday, December 28
These days are dedicated to streaming shows, coffee, and at-home workouts.
Friday, December 29
Today is dedicated to the people who send their kids places in order to give them a better life, like the taxi driver who was so kind to me, who plans to send his young son to live with his relative in Canada in two short years.
Saturday, December 30
Today is dedicated to my brother and sister-in-law. I miss you terribly.
Sunday, December 31
Today is dedicated to the Friedrichses, who open their lives with abandon.
Today is dedicated to Elijah, whose life sings to me about struggle, pain, and the voice of God.
Saturday, December 2
Today is dedicated to talking in the kitchen.
Sunday, December 3 - Wednesday, December 6
These days are dedicated to having a job.
Thursday, December 7
Today is dedicated to the specialty grocery stores in CIL. You came through when I feared I would not drink root beer for another seven months.
Friday, December 8
Today is dedicated to your children. I love seeing them grow up on social media, and I love teaching them.
Saturday, December 9
Today is dedicated to online dating and its stories.
Sunday, December 10
Today is dedicated to "normal" days.
Monday, December 11
Today is dedicated to you, when you feel like the world is too much, the week is too long, the kids are too loud, and you're not enough. God is with us.
Tuesday, December 12
Today is dedicated to eyeliner. It's a beautiful thing to look in the mirror and say to oneself, "Who is that Bad*** B****?! Oh, that's just me wearing eyeliner!"
Wednesday, December 13
Today is dedicated to Scrappy the cat, who likes cuddles, and who jumps down from mosque rooftops to find me when she hears my keys jingle.
Thursday, December 14
Today is dedicated to Ralph Waldo Emerson and his Transcendentalists who offered a measure of truth, and whose individualism haunts us with its many grandchildren.
Friday, December 15
Today is dedicated to sentence diagramming. You heard me. Sentence Diagramming, you helped me not to have to think of a party game for hyperglycemic seventh-graders.
Saturday, December 16
Today is dedicated to twinkle lights.
Sunday, December 17
Today is dedicated to the fellowship and the generosity of your people, dear Lord. You tell us there is enough and more than enough.
Monday, December 18
Today is dedicated to women whose husbands have died.
Tuesday, December 19
Today is dedicated to babysitters everywhere, who made it possible for my friends to see Star Wars with me.
Wednesday, December 20
Today is dedicated to Shanti and her willingness to re-watch all of Game of Thrones, straight through from the beginning.
Thursday, December 21
Today is dedicated to Christa, one of those people who has endless inner resources, as best I can tell.
Friday, December 22
Today is dedicated to watching TV without guilt.
Saturday, December 23
Today is dedicated to the friends who stick around, eat soup, watch movies, and laugh so loudly and prettily that the movie doesn't even matter.
Sunday, December 24
Today is dedicated to disappointments. Finding your king as a baby in a stable. Finding yourself unable to help someone you love. Finding the road ahead to be treacherous. Finding you've used up all the chocolate chips.
Monday, December 25
Today is dedicated to the family that witnesses your birth; the family that witnesses your growth; the family that witnesses your daily deaths. Sometimes it's the same group of people, and sometimes it's a whole big mix.
Tuesday, December 26 - Thursday, December 28
These days are dedicated to streaming shows, coffee, and at-home workouts.
Friday, December 29
Today is dedicated to the people who send their kids places in order to give them a better life, like the taxi driver who was so kind to me, who plans to send his young son to live with his relative in Canada in two short years.
Saturday, December 30
Today is dedicated to my brother and sister-in-law. I miss you terribly.
Sunday, December 31
Today is dedicated to the Friedrichses, who open their lives with abandon.
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