Sowing seeds in my heart

I must admit, coming back from VLM, the question "where do I go from here?" was rather difficult to answer. I came back to St. John's and immersed myself in campus ministry for my final year. Decisions about graduate school and work opportunities were weighed carefully, but I still felt like I was being called to do more. Through my new community of fellow lay missionaries, I learned about the Gateway Vincentian Volunteer program that several VLMs had done in the past. St. Louis sounded like a new adventure, and before I knew it, I was graduating and off to STL.

This was really different from teaching English in a third world country. When you go somewhere like Africa, you expect to be surrounded by people suffering and doing without things we find to be necessities - anything from electricity to running water. When you go to an American city, and you realize that people live without heat, without adequate plumbing, etc - it's really quite shocking. Through the eyes of our community, we were able to see behind the scenes in many non-profit organizations throughout St. Louis. Our weekly reflections were one of the highlights of my life in community. It gave me the opportunity to see the universality of St. Vincent de Paul's charism. Jesus says in Jn 12:8, "For you always have the poor with you," and wherever the poor, the marginalized, the misfits, the forgotten ones - the little ones that Jesus so often mentions - are, that is the call of the Vincentian family.

Here is a copy of an article I wrote reflecting on my service experience at St. Louis Catholic Academy.

A phone crooked at the shoulder, putting on a student’s Band-Aid with one hand, buzzing open the front door with the other, and trying to run off copies of the weekly newsletter all at the same time has become a common-place situation this year. I came to St. Louis Catholic Academy to be the “Parent Liaison,” unsure of what that meant, but excited to be working with families - and the experience has definitely given me new challenges and changed my heart forever.

St. Louis Catholic Academy is an under-staffed, overworked Catholic school with a heart of gold. Located in urban North Saint Louis, with over 85% of the student body qualifying for free and reduced government lunch, it is a school on a mission: to provide a quality, affordable private education, especially for the underserved in its community. The beauty of St. Louis Catholic Academy is that, upon entering, one would never guess that this school is any different than any other private school one might encounter. The staff works tirelessly to find grants, aid programs, and ways to get new technology and state-of-the-art curriculums into the classrooms. The volunteer staff is irreplaceable, as they have been establishing a library (of mostly donations), working as classroom aids, and providing tutoring for those students who are enrolled in our after-care program.

The second glance at SLCA is really where the rubber meets the road. Being a Parent Liaison to families in such situations that they require so much aid has brought me joy, broken my heart, and given me new eyes to see the world. I spent a month covering full time for the secretary who was out on medical leave. One day of answering the phones and answering the front door – hearing the stories of why so-and-so is late, trying to track down parents of sick children whose numbers have changed 3 times, sifting through custody battles, lost jobs, grandparent caregiver illnesses, an angry parent trying to find someone or something to blame – all of this can awaken any range of emotions. Looking at the students, in their matching uniforms, it is easy to forget the roads many of them must take, every day.

So what is a Parent Liaison? I’ve spent the past year answering that question, simply by jumping in with both feet. We have 177 students, and 177 stories. A year has not been enough time to learn all of them, but they have all touched me. I have had the privilege of getting to know the students – their likes, dislikes, strengths and weaknesses – and sharing them with their teachers and caregivers. I have had the privilege of encouraging the beginnings of an independent parent organization, full of bright ideas and wisdom far beyond my own, to bring families together and get parents involved with their children. I have had the privilege of being a driving force behind several initiatives to increase school communication with the families – from phone calls to emails to a weekly newsletter.

Most importantly though, I’ve had the privilege of calling many of the people I’ve worked with “my friend.” They have taught me far more about life and about myself than I could have imagined. This position has become intimately intertwined with my whole experience as a Gateway Vincentian Volunteer. St. Vincent always strove to help the most vulnerable and marginalized in society. My worksite embodies the spirit of Vincent in ways I will continue to unpack for the rest of my life. He may not be mentioned or talked about – but there is a mural of him on the wall near the front entrance, and his charism is lived out here, every day. For better or worse, I’ve got the “Vincentian Spirit” in my blood – and this year I’ve experienced a blurring of the lines between work, service, and friendship.

“You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile. It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see. And the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.” ~St. Vincent de Paul

The Journey Begins, Part 2

Our trip to Bahir Dar seemed like a shedding of layers of civilization. While Evan and I had been talking almost non-stop, we'd left the United States and our native language of English. Then, we'd left Amsterdam, our final link to our familiar Western culture. When we arrived in Nairobi, you couldn't drink the water, but the airport seemed like a normal place - until we walked onto the tarmac to board our next plane. We were surrounded by desert, and a few tall trees in the distance, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Flying into Addis was another shock; I had never seen an entire area of tin roof shacks. Animals (and people) were wandering through the bumpy streets as we tried to drive around. We stayed with the Daughters of Charity there to recover from traveling for a few days before the final leg of our journey to Bahir Dar.

When we arrived in Bahir Dar, the airport consisted of a small building and a tarmac. We walked into the building, and almost immediately we were at the front door. We were greeted warmly at the airport, our bags were packed up, and we were on our way to the DOC's compound.

When we arrived, we were immediately welcomed to a coffee ceremony - the traditional Ethiopian celebration. Everyone gathers around, the coffee is roasted, and then the guests of honor break the bread to share with everyone gathered. That was my first experience of being present, and I'll never forget the way everyone laughed, told stories, and sat around sipping coffee and eating bread for what seemed like hours. They didn't care that we couldn't speak Amharic (the native language of Ethiopia) or that they couldn't speak English. We laughed and smiled and enjoyed the delicious coffee and bread that had been baked in banana leaves. I wondered if I'd ever seen people that happy before.

Then we started teaching - the first day of school, all of the children greeted us in song, and presented flowers to us they had picked. We held our first "field day," and spent the whole morning laughing, playing clapping and dancing games, and soccer, and attempting to learn a little bit about them while they constantly studied us. That day faded into a normal routine; we'd teach in the morning, have lunch with the Daughters, and then would either spend time with the workers in the compound, work with individual tutoring groups, help the Daughters with various projects, or just spend some leisurely time enjoying a walk, or a coffee ceremony, or a wonderful conversation that would last the whole afternoon without realizing it. Time almost ceased to exist - we were welcomed as part of the family, and simultaneously as honored guests. We came to serve, and were constantly being served. All the while, the language barrier never stopped anyone from just sitting and enjoying each others' company.

My 5th grade students were like any other 5th grade class - boisterous, hormonal, excitable - and yet, there was something so profoundly different. We'd be having a perfectly normal lesson, and a student would be so hungry, they'd try to eat the play-doh. Or, a student would be hiding their leg, only for me to discover it had a large gash that had become infected from lack of care. I began to notice that many students wore the same shirt every single day. Some didn't have shoes. And yet, when the students would receive their lunch, many would inevitably try to offer it to me. One student gave me a very tiny note written on a scrap of paper, carefully folded around her gift - a small red plastic monkey - possibly her only toy in this world. Another student, one of my brightest, wrote a beautiful note asking me to stay in Ethiopia and be her teacher forever, because she loved me. Several girls spent hours one afternoon braiding and re-braiding my hair, all the while giggling about how strange my hair was.

These different ideas constantly wrestled in my soul. How could people who seemed to have nothing by my standards, be showing me joy and me generosity?

It was like a slowly illuminating light bulb had just started to turn on. The St. Vincent quote on many St. John's campus ministry t-shirts, "No one is too rich to receive, or too poor to give," was being lived out, right in front of my eyes. I realized I had seen "the poor" I was serving as separate from myself - when all the while, God was tugging at my heart to see the same-ness. The humanity. Girls my brother's age who gushed over his picture, the handsome American. Boys pulling the hair of the girl in front of them. Children playing games they had invented with no toys. The words "brother" and "sister" and "friend" slowly started coming to mind, instead of "student," "child," or "poor man."

Through these experiences, and through reflection with my community, I slowly started to realize why St. Vincent de Paul is still a big deal, 350 years later. One of my favorite quotes from St. Vincent is, “It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.” In our abundant Western culture, it can be easy to feel compelled to reach out to those in need. What I often find harder is to see “the poor” as our brothers and sisters, men and women made in the image and likeness of God – and to see how hard it can be for them to accept our help. To see that a conversation, a friendship, can mean more than a loaf of bread ever could. That being treated with dignity and respect is what makes us feel alive, and feel human.

One thing is for sure; if you run into St. Vincent de Paul's words in action, you can't go back. These experiences captivated me, led me to give a whole year of my life to join the Gateway Vincentian Volunteers, and led to my applying for VLM 2011. 

That is the real beginning of this story.

The Journey Begins, Part 1

It's hard to know where to begin - so the easiest place might be the beginning! At least, the beginning  of my relationship with VLM. It's difficult to talk about what service means to me now without showing where I came from.

I discovered the Vincentian charism of service to the poor upon entering St. John's University as a freshman in 2005. I didn't know what it meant, and I certainly didn't know where it would take me... but a seed was planted. Who was St. Vincent? I knew the basics - the St. Vincent de Paul society had a thrift store in Salem, near where I went to youth group at St. Vincent de Paul parish. However, it seemed there was more to him.

I joined a program called V.I.T.A.L sponsored by campus ministry. Vincentian Initiative to Advance Leadership. We met several times a semester, to discuss who St. Vincent was, and how service pertained to our skills as leaders. It wasn't until my junior year that all of this really had a chance to sink in...

I remember the day it all started very clearly. It was February 2008, spring semester of my junior year. I received a forwarded email from my dear friend Lauren - who from the very beginning, was the reason I went to St. John's in the first place. It was an application for VLM - and she prefaced the forward with a note that said "hey, you're studying education, and I think you would really love this experience. I did this program the first year in 2005. The application is due tomorrow though, so here is Sister Mary Beth's contact information if you're interested."

Teaching English for a summer in Ethiopia? Having just returned from a study abroad experience the year before, this sounded right up my alley. With less than 24 hours to act, I immediately contacted Sister Mary Beth and asked for an extension. From there, the ball kept rolling...

Since sending in the application, life had gotten so busy, with my brother's wedding, catching mono, getting accepted into the President's Society, and trying to stay afloat with my grades after missing over a month of classes - Getting accepted into the VLM program had gone on the back burner of my mind almost as quickly as it had entered. I'd been a devout Catholic all my life, and everything I'd done just seemed like the right thing to do. I was so busy building my resume and trying to conquer the world, that WHY I did all the things I was doing had rarely, if ever, crossed my mind.

So there I was, school was over and the million things on the to-do list were all complete - and I was standing in the airport, looking for my flight to Chicago. It hit me - I'm going to AFRICA. I panicked inside. What had all of my "resume building" gotten me into? I didn't know a thing about Africa, I felt green and inexperienced as a teacher, and I didn't know anyone going on this trip! Almost as soon as I had that thought, I saw another light blue polo just like the one I was wearing, with the VLM logo on the front. Jenna and I talked and talked, and suddenly we were in Chicago. We got to DePaul, and with everyone I met, I felt the same ease in striking up conversation, like these folks had been friends my whole life. I realized I wasn't the only one who was nervous, too. The fear of not knowing anyone quickly passed, and then our orientation sessions started on what we would be doing. 

Those next few days are all blurred together in my mind. We talked about the culture of Ethiopia, what our work days would consist of, "Ethiopian time", and the schedule of the program. We ate Ethiopian food in a restaurant in Chicago. Finally, we all gathered up our things, and boarded a plane bound for Amsterdam. My ticket was next to this amazing guy, Evan, and we talked for hours on end. We boarded another plane for Nairobi, and our tickets were together again. We boarded another plane for Addis, our tickets side by side once more. After over 57 hours of traveling, talking, and occasionally attempting to sleep, I knew I'd made a friend for life. I just didn't know how right I was ;-). Although that's another story...