live. move. be.

This week feels like saying goodbye to Greensboro. I'm moved out of my summer apartment (currently living out of my suitcase at a friend's house), my psychology class ends on Thursday, my lab work is done for now, I'm saying goodbye to the little boys I babysit today, and I'm done working at Church World Service. I know I'll come back here at least once before I fly out in September, but this week definitely feels like goodbye.

This has been an excellent summer, though not at all when I expected. For several months (April, May, June) I was going crazy searching for a job. I was out applying or interviewing almost every day, and feeling more anxious and stressed by the minute. I began to feel an overwhelming sense of failure (when Bojangles won't call you back, you begin to wonder why you're getting a college education) and dejection. Towards the beginning of June, I realized that I wasn't just anxious about my lack of money....part of my security and identity was wrapped up in being competent on my own and usually being successful at whatever I want to do. In my mind, my inability to get hired was just foreshadowing a long, bleak future of failure (this sounds very silly now, but it was very serious at the time)! Not to mention I felt very lazy and wasteful because I thought I was "supposed" to be working.

Clearly I had some issues, but thankfully I wasn't the one in control. Not finding a job turned out to be the biggest blessing I could imagine for several reasons. One: because it taught me to rest. During my frantic search, I could never just accept that maybe God wanted to me to relax and rest and savor my summertime. Two: because I stumbled into the work I was really supposed to be doing.

Volunteering with refugee resettlement has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I can't quite describe what it has meant to me. The stories I've heard have been absolutely heartbreaking. Sometimes I come home crying. I met Iraqi men who have watched their family members be killed and fled for their life after being persecuted just because they worked with the U.S. army. I met a man from Rwanda who fled into the jungle as a 13 year old when genocide hit his country, and now is fufilling his dream of getting his Master's degree. I met many people who have lived their entire life in refugee camps. I met a woman who was never allowed any education as a poor refugee in Vietnam, so when I asked her to sign her name on a form, she didn't even know how to hold a pen (it was incredibly moving to see her 14 year old daughter come over and hold her hand to guide her along the letters of her name).

I could spend hours writing stories like that. The courage and determination of these refugees utterly humbles me. If I could describe my summer in one word, it would be gratitude. I have felt so overwhelmingly grateful for everything I have been given....my family, my education, my freedom, my health, my access to food and shelter....I have taken so much of it for granted. I don't even know if "grateful" is the right word....sometimes I feel ashamed that I have so much when others have so little. I feel sickened by my American culture when I turn on the TV and see the obsession with wealth and celebrity after I've worked all day with people who are struggling to survive. I've wrestled with feeling like I don't deserve any of this in face of such poverty. These people are so thankful for shabby apartments and menial labor jobs, and I complain because I'm not as "successful" as I would like in a career path or in the academic word. This summer has really redefined "success" for me in a whole new way and made me look at every day as a gift, just for the sheer joy of existing as one of God's children on the earth.

Here's the thing: we like to think poverty is the exception to the rule, so we can go on living our indlugent lives carefree. We even often like to "blame the victim" for their poverty (i.e. they must be lazy, they must not work hard, etc.) which allows us to ignore it. We diffuse responsibility onto the world's governments or onto various aid organizations or onto the church (which is sadly failing to address the issue or even care about it), which allows us to keep a clear conscience. The truth is that poverty and brokenness is rampant and wisespread, it is in your town, and it is everyone's responsibility. How can we stand by and shut our eyes and ears to suffering?

I know I might sound preachy, but I have felt so passionate about this all summer and it's hard to stay silent. Honestly, I don't think any follower of Christ can be silent about this.