Our team here in Venezuela recently finished a five-week kids' club in the neighboring barrio of San Pablito. SP has the reputation of being one of the oldest and most violent barrios in our part of Caracas. Walking into the barrio sometimes feels like you are walking into a cloud of darkness. If you pause long enough to take in the surroundings, you will find the barrio's main businesses, health clinic, primary school, a Catholic chapel, a game of dominoes and motorcycles recklessly zooming up and down the steep hill. You'll also find drunks stooped over on the side of the road, mothers hauling small children and groceries up the steep steps and groups of young men standing guard at strategic spots, watching the cars go by on the highway, ready to receive the next shipment of drugs or let their buddies know which marked man has just passed by as they fight for power in their crazy, twisted game of revenge. When taking us on a tour of the neighborhood, a Venezuelan friend said,
"that guy in the baseball cap you just shook hands with killed my cousin last week."
Everyone is connected in strange, often dangerous ways. Violence has wreaked havoc on every family.
The InnerCHANGE team has worked in San Pablito several times before and we knew what kind of an intense environment we were walking into. As we prayed before the first club, many of us saw visions of light for SP and we were reminded of the opening words in the book of John, speaking of the power of God's light and how the darkness has not and will not overcome it. Strengthened by these words, we ventured into SP twice a week to sing songs, play games, perform dramas, laugh, dance, teach and learn with a group of amazing six to twelve-year-olds. They delighted us with their joy, wore us out with their energy, inspired us with their creativity, dazzled us with their dance skills and gave us hope that another way of living is possible.
We don't know what the future holds for the kids in San Pablito. Looking back on the club, we are encouraged by the seeds that were planted, frustrated by the inconsistent attendance of many of the kids, angered by the violence right outside our door (we saw drug deals right in front of the school and one club had to be canceled because a young man was shot and killed on the highway in front of the barrio right before we arrived) and cautiously hopeful that some of what we taught will stick with these kids and guide them down the path of truth. Twice a week the gunshots ringing off the hills had competition from the laughter bouncing off the walls of the chapel and the light of God's word was brought forth through singing and dancing.
I thank God for your prayers and for the amazing kids in San Pablito. Please continue to pray that the darkness will continue to be pushed back by God's light and the children will keep singing, dancing and laughing God's Kingdom into being.
Just for fun, I've included one of my favorite videos of singer/songwriter/activist Michael Franti dancing in the streets of a favela in Rio de Janeiro. Every time I watch this video, I smile because it reminds me of the streets I'm privileged to walk everyday and reminds me of the good in the midst of the madness. Enjoy!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
La Playa!
If you asked any Venezuelan to name some of their favorite things about their country "la playa" would definitely make the list. The Caribbean water is bath water warm and you can float for hours while watching the mist move over the top of the mountains. Here are some pictures from my latest trip to the beach. And here's hoping you're taking time to soak in the beauty
Friday, June 12, 2009
Home Home on the Callejon
In mid May, I moved in with my teammate KT on Callejon Sucre, just a short winding walk down the hill from the IC office. Here are some outside shots of my new digs.
The incredible view from the balcony
Two views looking up the hill
Walking down the stairs towards the door
The incredible view from the balcony
Two views looking up the hill
Walking down the stairs towards the door
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Hometown Musical Musings
It's funny how much I've thought lately about what it means to be from Detroit. In a new context, culture and climate, knowing where you've come from is just as important as where you are and where you're heading. So what does it mean to be from Detroit? Being from the D goes beyond loving the Tigers, drinking Fago and Vernors and smothering my hot fudge sundaes with Sanders' hot fudge. I'd like to think that I learned a thing or two about putting in a hard days' work, taking pride in what I've accomplished and gutting it out during the hard times from the people I was fortunate to be around growing up. Yet I'm also painfully aware that I grew up in the 'burbs of one of the most racially segregated cities anywhere with some of the highest rates of child poverty. And the current economic crisis and the government takeover of General Motors are harsh reminders that the "glory days" of Detroit are far behind us and things won't ever return to the way they were.
So what does it take to rebuild a city? What does it look like for Detroiters to be the change they want to see in their hometown? What lessons can we learn from the mistakes and successes of the past that can shine light on the present and the future? Some of the best things are build out of destruction. Change often comes after we've been brought to our knees.
Jesus was once asked if anything good can come from Nazareth, his hometown. I think we're being asked the same question about Detroit. And I think we're being challenged to start being the "good" that is coming out of Motown.
So in the spirit of reflection and dreaming, here's one of my favorite videos. It's from Canadian rocker Sam Roberts' newest album about his reflections crossing the Ambassador bridge into the U.S. on childhood family vacations. And just for fun, I've included Tito the Bambino's song "Amor" that I'm hearing all over Venezuela. Enjoy! And let's keep dreaming and being the good that comes from our hometowns.
So what does it take to rebuild a city? What does it look like for Detroiters to be the change they want to see in their hometown? What lessons can we learn from the mistakes and successes of the past that can shine light on the present and the future? Some of the best things are build out of destruction. Change often comes after we've been brought to our knees.
Jesus was once asked if anything good can come from Nazareth, his hometown. I think we're being asked the same question about Detroit. And I think we're being challenged to start being the "good" that is coming out of Motown.
So in the spirit of reflection and dreaming, here's one of my favorite videos. It's from Canadian rocker Sam Roberts' newest album about his reflections crossing the Ambassador bridge into the U.S. on childhood family vacations. And just for fun, I've included Tito the Bambino's song "Amor" that I'm hearing all over Venezuela. Enjoy! And let's keep dreaming and being the good that comes from our hometowns.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Missing Pictures from the Newsletter
Here are the missing pictures from my newsletter. Above is a picture of the new mural across the street from the IC office. The Spanish on the side translates "happy are those who fight for peace". Our friend Arturo coordinated the mural and did much of the artwork. The fingerprints are from kids in the neighborhood.
April was an incredible month of learning, growing and being challenged. I spent most of the month getting used to Venezuelan culture with Maria and her family in San Pablito, a barrio here in Caracas. We're gearing up for two summer interns who will be leading a kids' club in this neighborhood in June and July. Please join us in praying for the kids, their families and a powerful movement of God's Spirit in San Pablito.
Celebrating Gaby's birthday at the zoo. Front row L-R: Andrea, Luis, Gaby, Adrienne and KT. Back row L-R: Cameron, Rolan and me.
Maria, Gaby and I.
Luis and Brayan playing volibol.
Some views of San Pablito.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Don't Just Do Something, Stand There!
This is the title of a chapter in a Max Lucado book I remember reading in high school. I've thought of this phrase often this past year as I've transitioned from a clear-cut, rigorous teaching schedule to a happily busy, but much more fuzzy missionary schedule. So much of the time I base my worth on how hard I work and how productive I am. My identity gets wrapped up in what I do rather than who I am.
As an American do-gooder, it's so easy to put on my "Superman cape" and swoop down to save the day, solve the problem or fix something that's broken. What often lasts longer and makes more of an impact in people's lives, however, is an ongoing compassionate presence. Someone to step into the mess, dwell in it, and offer a word of hope. It's not glamorous or flashy. Too often the "results" take years, even generations, to emerge. My work here is not as much about what I do, but rather the person I am, the greater body of Jesus followers that I belong to.
I was reminded of this last week when I came down with tummy troubles thirty-six hours after landing. I was forced to sit, think, pray, refect and just be. I read, I slept, I listened to music. I took a walk up to the roof of the InnerCHANGE office and watched the sun slowly dip behind the hills, then illuminate the underbellies of the clouds with light and color. I had no choice but to simply sit and behold. It was beautiful.
So as I stumble my way through a new environment feeling much like a little child trying to figure out a world of adults I don't understand, I take comfort in knowing that I loved, I am valued, I have a purpose. I am slowly learning to stand.
As an American do-gooder, it's so easy to put on my "Superman cape" and swoop down to save the day, solve the problem or fix something that's broken. What often lasts longer and makes more of an impact in people's lives, however, is an ongoing compassionate presence. Someone to step into the mess, dwell in it, and offer a word of hope. It's not glamorous or flashy. Too often the "results" take years, even generations, to emerge. My work here is not as much about what I do, but rather the person I am, the greater body of Jesus followers that I belong to.
I was reminded of this last week when I came down with tummy troubles thirty-six hours after landing. I was forced to sit, think, pray, refect and just be. I read, I slept, I listened to music. I took a walk up to the roof of the InnerCHANGE office and watched the sun slowly dip behind the hills, then illuminate the underbellies of the clouds with light and color. I had no choice but to simply sit and behold. It was beautiful.
So as I stumble my way through a new environment feeling much like a little child trying to figure out a world of adults I don't understand, I take comfort in knowing that I loved, I am valued, I have a purpose. I am slowly learning to stand.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Is Anybody Listening?
I watched a report on this video last week on The News Hour With Jim Lehrer. It was created by a group of AP English students at Village Academy High School in Pomona, California in reaction to their teacher asking them how they were doing in lieu of the current economic crisis. Their thoughts are heartfelt, well articulated and very, very real. I think they express really well what so many people around the world are thinking and feeling right now. Take a look:
President Obama watched the video and adressed the students directly in a speech he gave earlier this month, mentioning a student on the video by name. Although the president's shout out was no doubt flattering and boosted morale, I think the students realize it's going to take more than an economic stimulus package to turn things around. This community has banded together to support each other emotionally and practically through donating food and other basic items at school. Hopefully they've discovered the power of their own voices to bring awareness and effect change. And hopefully they've discovered that people are listening and together we can make a difference.
For further reading, click on the link to read more about the Village Academy video in the LA Times
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-pomona-school13-2009mar13,0,2036324.story
President Obama watched the video and adressed the students directly in a speech he gave earlier this month, mentioning a student on the video by name. Although the president's shout out was no doubt flattering and boosted morale, I think the students realize it's going to take more than an economic stimulus package to turn things around. This community has banded together to support each other emotionally and practically through donating food and other basic items at school. Hopefully they've discovered the power of their own voices to bring awareness and effect change. And hopefully they've discovered that people are listening and together we can make a difference.
For further reading, click on the link to read more about the Village Academy video in the LA Times
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-pomona-school13-2009mar13,0,2036324.story
Friday, March 20, 2009
Spring!
Happy spring, everyone! Here in Detroit, the sun is out, the piles of snow are gone and the sap is making sticky rivers on its way down the trunks of the sugar maple trees.
For me, though, the sure sign that spring is coming is when I see the first crocuses peek their heads above ground and give us some of the year's first color. So in tribute to these very small but very brave flowers, I'll share a reflection I wrote last year about this time on some of my favorite harbingers of hope:
Pick a symbol that represents who you are becoming in Christ;
or
If you could be a flower, what flower would you be?
Winter in Michigan is long and its hold on us is deep. It is bitterly cold, often windy and the sun rarely shines. The snow that blankets our world in white quickly turns brown from the dirt of our lives. Muddy piles of crusty snow accumulate along the roads and ice coats the sidewalks, making a simple stroll around the neighborhood a slippery, inconvenient and sometimes dangerous journey. By early March, we are so hungry and so needy for warmth that we'll roll down the windows in our car and parade around in shorts the first day the temperature goes over fifty degrees. In spite of spring's valient efforts to arrive bringing warmth and color, winter's nails dig deep and it will still snow well into the late part of March making us wonder if spring might forget to come alltogether this year.
But every year as I'm walking along bundled up, I'll see a flash of purple or yellow peeking through the patches of snow on the ground. I'll look closer and see a crocus, the tiny, colorful flowers with grass-like leaves that are the first flowers to bloom in spring. Crocuses are amazingly resilient flowers. They bloom at the first touch of warmth and can withstand the snow, wind and rain even after they've pushed through the ground. I welcome their presence on my late winter walk with a grateful smile and return home with an extra jump in my step, knowing that despite the bitter wind and the cold that lingers, spring is on its way.
I traveled to Staten Island, New York in March of 1999 on a mission trip in college. My favorite picture I took during my stay was a picture of the first crocus I saw that year. We were working at a church that had burned down in a fire, helping to clear away rubble so the construction workers could build a new sanctuary. The crocus I saw was blooming under a broken crate, making its home among the rubble and ash in the side lot of the church. I instinctively new that this flower was symbolic and I am so grateful I took that picture.
I love that picture. And I love the crocus. I love these tiny ambassadors of hope, these little touches of beauty blooming from the ashes, these splashes of color among the grey and the brown.
I have a lot I can learn from crocuses. And I know that as I continue to watch and pray and connect to the Sower of every good seed, I, too, am becoming an ambassador of hope, a sign of beauty growing from the ashes, a splash of color among the grey and the brown.
For me, though, the sure sign that spring is coming is when I see the first crocuses peek their heads above ground and give us some of the year's first color. So in tribute to these very small but very brave flowers, I'll share a reflection I wrote last year about this time on some of my favorite harbingers of hope:
Pick a symbol that represents who you are becoming in Christ;
or
If you could be a flower, what flower would you be?
Winter in Michigan is long and its hold on us is deep. It is bitterly cold, often windy and the sun rarely shines. The snow that blankets our world in white quickly turns brown from the dirt of our lives. Muddy piles of crusty snow accumulate along the roads and ice coats the sidewalks, making a simple stroll around the neighborhood a slippery, inconvenient and sometimes dangerous journey. By early March, we are so hungry and so needy for warmth that we'll roll down the windows in our car and parade around in shorts the first day the temperature goes over fifty degrees. In spite of spring's valient efforts to arrive bringing warmth and color, winter's nails dig deep and it will still snow well into the late part of March making us wonder if spring might forget to come alltogether this year.
But every year as I'm walking along bundled up, I'll see a flash of purple or yellow peeking through the patches of snow on the ground. I'll look closer and see a crocus, the tiny, colorful flowers with grass-like leaves that are the first flowers to bloom in spring. Crocuses are amazingly resilient flowers. They bloom at the first touch of warmth and can withstand the snow, wind and rain even after they've pushed through the ground. I welcome their presence on my late winter walk with a grateful smile and return home with an extra jump in my step, knowing that despite the bitter wind and the cold that lingers, spring is on its way.
I traveled to Staten Island, New York in March of 1999 on a mission trip in college. My favorite picture I took during my stay was a picture of the first crocus I saw that year. We were working at a church that had burned down in a fire, helping to clear away rubble so the construction workers could build a new sanctuary. The crocus I saw was blooming under a broken crate, making its home among the rubble and ash in the side lot of the church. I instinctively new that this flower was symbolic and I am so grateful I took that picture.
I love that picture. And I love the crocus. I love these tiny ambassadors of hope, these little touches of beauty blooming from the ashes, these splashes of color among the grey and the brown.
I have a lot I can learn from crocuses. And I know that as I continue to watch and pray and connect to the Sower of every good seed, I, too, am becoming an ambassador of hope, a sign of beauty growing from the ashes, a splash of color among the grey and the brown.
I hope you find your own "crocus" today and it makes you pause, reflect and smile.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Oh Danny Boy
In celebration of all things green and Irish, here's something silly to put a smile on your face. Enjoy!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Where did you get the name for this blog?
Last year I took my second mission trip to Honduras. As usually happens with these trips, the transition back into American life was much more difficult than the transition to Latin America. A thousand thoughts and emotions were swirling around my heart and head as I desperately tried to put words to what I had seen, thought and felt on the journey. Last February I reflected:
I flew, stumbled, jumped, sang, kicked, ran, swam and stood, sometimes all at the same time. I saw so many things that make me want to shake my fist at the sky. I heard too much that makes me want to cry. I’m trying to get used to life in the States again. But a huge part of me is still watching orphans jump for joy, still singing silly songs and giggling, still staring at the Caribbean with the breeze in my face, still listening to the Honduran rain drown out the noise in my head. I am still in the bed of a Honduran pickup truck, zooming down the highway in a haze of blue and green, my face to the wind and my back to the world. I am ruined for the ordinary.
This is the mess of the Kingdom. This is the reality of love. Not every story ends with a swelling crescendo of orchestra strings, a kiss and a ride into the sunset. We are hurting, we are bleeding and we are desperately searching for some light. But as we seek, we find glimpses of glory and tiny sparks of joy. When the thunder, lightning and rain stop for a moment, we find ourselves standing knee deep in a pool of grace.
I hope you get a taste of grace today.
I flew, stumbled, jumped, sang, kicked, ran, swam and stood, sometimes all at the same time. I saw so many things that make me want to shake my fist at the sky. I heard too much that makes me want to cry. I’m trying to get used to life in the States again. But a huge part of me is still watching orphans jump for joy, still singing silly songs and giggling, still staring at the Caribbean with the breeze in my face, still listening to the Honduran rain drown out the noise in my head. I am still in the bed of a Honduran pickup truck, zooming down the highway in a haze of blue and green, my face to the wind and my back to the world. I am ruined for the ordinary.
This is the mess of the Kingdom. This is the reality of love. Not every story ends with a swelling crescendo of orchestra strings, a kiss and a ride into the sunset. We are hurting, we are bleeding and we are desperately searching for some light. But as we seek, we find glimpses of glory and tiny sparks of joy. When the thunder, lightning and rain stop for a moment, we find ourselves standing knee deep in a pool of grace.
I hope you get a taste of grace today.
Monday, March 9, 2009
From the D to the V
People naturally have lots of questions when I tell them I'm on my way to Venezuela. The questioning usually starts with, "what will you do?" and "is it safe?", which are both difficult questions I'll answer in a later post. But here are some basic facts to get you acquainted with my future home. Please let me know if there's questions you have that you'd like me to post. And thanks for bearing with my inner teacher. I LOVE trivia!
Population of Venezuela: 26 million
Population of Caracas: 4 million (but depends on which areas you include)
A Few Quick Facts About Venezuela:
Location: Northern part of S. America (yellow country on map)
Flag:
Capital City: Caracas
Language: Spanish
Population of Venezuela: 26 million
Population of Caracas: 4 million (but depends on which areas you include)
Average Temperature in Caracas: 73 degrees Farenheit
President: Hugo Chavez
President: Hugo Chavez
Venezuelans' Favorite Sport: Baseball
Here are some of my favorite guys born in Venezuela:
Here are some of my favorite guys born in Venezuela:
Carlos Guillen and Magglio Ordoñez
Miguel Cabrera
Armando Galarraga
I'm Glad You're Here
Welcome to my blog!
Several friends have convinced me that blogging is a good idea and at least a few people will stop by from time to time to see what's new. So in addition to my regular newsletters from Venezuela, here's another place to keep up with what's going on in the life of Beth. So sit back, enjoy, and let me know what's going on in your life as well. And together let's celebrate all that God has done and continues to do in us, around us and through us.
I'm glad you're here.
Several friends have convinced me that blogging is a good idea and at least a few people will stop by from time to time to see what's new. So in addition to my regular newsletters from Venezuela, here's another place to keep up with what's going on in the life of Beth. So sit back, enjoy, and let me know what's going on in your life as well. And together let's celebrate all that God has done and continues to do in us, around us and through us.
I'm glad you're here.
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