Reflections on Haiti

I am home from Haiti. It was a good trip, though in many ways it was a hard trip for me. This was my first experience with overseas mission work, and though I saw a lot of hardship, I also saw a lot of hope. Buckle up, this will be a long one.

La Croix is a south-east of Gonaieves.

We flew into Port-au-Prince and then drove 90 miles to the La Croix Haiti New Testament Mission. I was awestruck while riding through Port-au-Prince, Haiti's capitol. There were people everywhere selling all kinds of things. Many of the stores had brightly painted pictures in addition to words because about half of Haiti's population is illiterate. There were makeshift tents that have served as people's homes since the earthquake two years ago. There were open sewers on either side of the road, and there were areas covered in garbage, sometimes with people and animals living on top of it. We left the city and could see the mountains, still covered with tents, though I was told that many people had been able to leave the tent cities and build permanent houses. It was a long drive to the mission and the extreme poverty was intermixed with a beautiful coastline. The mountains had a stark loveliness too, though it broke my heart because I knew that Haiti suffers from extreme deforestation.

We were treated to incredible hospitality at the mission. There were several bedrooms, split by men and woman, and as a married couple Jason and I were spoiled with our own room with a brand new mattress and pillows (and even a window air conditioner and ceiling fan). Our group shared several bathrooms with flush toilets, and we had running water every night. Pastor Vaugelas Pierre was a wonderful host, as was his wife who with the help of several women cooked delicious meals for us every night. In addition to our rooms, the mission has rooms for people who work there, a church, and school buildings, all surrounded by a wall. There is also a medical clinic down recently paved road. From the roof of the building where we stayed you could see the mission's banana plants, a field where animals (goats, donkeys, horses, and once I saw a bull) grazed, and then many mountains. Many of us spent our evenings on the roof looking at the stars. They were incredible! Never in my life have I seen so many stars. We could see the milky way and Jupiter, and every night we saw shooting stars.

We went to church on Sunday morning and though I didn't understand the prayers or words to the songs, I was still overwhelmed by the joy of the Haitian people worshiping. After the service they swarmed us with hugs, kisses, and handshakes, thanking us for coming and telling us that they and God loves us. It was a beautiful moment.

Jason playing for the kids after church.

There were many projects that members of our group worked on throughout the week. Painting, electrical work, music classes for the children at the school, teaching Excel to the gentlemen who work in the child sponsorship office, and the three nurses in our group helped at the clinic in La Croix and also in the town of Paul. One morning I assisted a professor from our group as she taught a chemistry class, and I helped another group member with her English class. It was wonderful to see how excited the kids are to learn! There was a boy who sat next to me in English class and kept repeating the new English words to me wanting me to help him to improve his pronunciation. Throughout the week kids would come up to us and proudly say one of the sentences they had learned in English, excited that they found the context where they could use it (You are painting a wall! I am sitting on a bench!).

Jason held youth group of the children of La Croix on Wednesday night. It started with a game of chubba-chubba-can-can. He gave a brief message, which was translated by a Haitian man who works at the mission. He then pulled out a guitar and played some English worship songs that he had heard some of kids singing, and then they also sang songs in Creole. At one point I was singing a song in English and the boy beside me was singing in Creole. It was a great moment of unity. The night ended with a Skype call to Veritas, the youth group at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In Pittsburgh or in Haiti, my husband is quite the youth pastor!

Jason gave his hat to the winner of the game.

Jason leading worship for the kids.

The mission has several schools in surrounding villages, and our group took trips to provide anti-parasitic medication to the children in three of them. One dose of the medication lasts for six months, and we took heights and weights for all of the children, which will be done again when another group gives their medication in six months. I went on two of the trips, to La Coupe and to Paul. The mission is located on the recently paved Highway 1, whereas Paul and La Coupe are decidedly not. I rode to La Coupe in a 4 wheel drive SUV of sorts driven by Pastor Pierre. We drove over dirt and rocky paths trough local villages. Then we drove up and down mountains and through streams. This was off-roading to the extreme. I'm surprised that I wasn't scared, but I was blessed with a sense of peace and security throughout the trip, which kept away my worries. I did suffer from heartbreak. The children in La Croix are thin but seem to be generally healthy and always seemed to be clean and well dressed. The children in La Coupe were covered in dust (which is easy to have happen as there is dust everywhere) and many seemed to be malnourished. Many had holes in the school uniforms and they were all packed into two school buildings. They came out one by one for us to weigh and measure them, then give them a bad tasting anti-parasitic pill (I took one and it wasn't tasty) and then a piece of candy. I asked Pastor Pierre how to say eat and swallow in Creole, and I threw in a bit of high school French (Creole is a French Pigeon), but it still must have been scary, especially for the little kids to have a random white woman telling them to eat a bad tasting pill. I felt bad because I could not communicate better, but I was happy to know that I had helped several hundred children to be free from parasites.

The journey to Paul wasn't as arduous, though we did drive up some very steep mountains. The views were amazing, and I was lucky enough to sit in the front seat with my new friends Margaret (on the way there), Shelly (on the way back), and Pastor Pierre. We spent the entire trip asking Pastor Pierre questions about Haiti and himself and he graciously answered all of them. He is a humble man with a wonderful sense of humor and he is doing many great things for Haiti. 

The most meaningful project that I worked on was helping to establish a library for the school in La Croix. When they were in Haiti in June, Jenny and Darby Gallo noticed that there were no picture books for the children, so this fall Darby collected books and donations (thanks to all who contributed!). They brought 250 picture books in English, and 50 children's picture Bibles (25 in English and 25 in Creole). Jenny, Reeny Davison, and I worked to sort them into appropriate categories and label them with a simple color coded system. Reeny is a educator who specializes in languages, and it was good to learn from her. I have a good sense of how to sort picture books for children in Pittsburgh for whom English is their first language, but it is different for children in Haiti who speak Creole. I typed up a simple catalog of all of the books and hope that more books will be added when future groups visit. The school's superintendent was very grateful for the beginnings of the library. The books are in a small room now, but the superintendent has plans for a larger reading room where the kids can come and read and study (it won't be a lending library due to the small number of books). 

Sorting books with Reeny

White people were a curiosity to the children in La Croix, La Coupe, and Paul. The children would run up to us and yell Blanc! Blanc! which means White! White! in Creole. They loved any attention that we gave them.

With the children of La Croix

It was a good trip, and I am glad I went. It was very hard for me at times, though, and I'm still processing my experience. I'd like to thank my friends for taking these photos. I took the short videos on the way to La Croix, but once we got there I felt that I couldn't do anything but live in the moment, so I didn't take photos or write. I struggled with feeling like an arrogant white American. What could I do to help? I struggled with seeing extreme poverty. But, I also saw hope. Pastor Pierre is doing amazing things - providing school, medical clinics, and wells for clean water. As for me, I did a few small things. Jason said that we were planting seeds that can grow into something bigger. That reminded me of this quote, which sums up my time in Haiti quite well:

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love." ~ Mother Teresa

I am the 12.88%

My husband wrote a blog post this week about a startling realization he had. He used the simple calculator at Global Rich List and found out where he sits in terms of the world's wealth. I decided to do the same thing for my salary. Here are my results:

I admit that I am amazed. I am one of many in my generation who is underemployed, having earned a masters degree but working in a job that only requires a high school diploma. I am thankful that I have a job, and especially a wonderful job in my field of interest with opportunities for growth, but if I'm honest, I am often frustrated that I'm not making enough money. The results above are just for my income, and I'm in the top 12.88%. When I put in our combined family income, we are in the top 0.95%. That's incredible to me! I've been feeling disheartened because we don't own a house and have huge student loans to repay. I knew that I should be thankful that we were ok financially, that we rent a nice little house and have food and all of that, but I wanted more... I'm overwhelmed by these results. We aren't doing ok financially; we are amazingly blessed. How many things do I take for granted every day? A home in a safe area with heat, electricity, and clean water; easily accessible, healthy food; health care; transportation; I could go on and on now that I start to think about it.

So now my challenge for myself is twofold. I want to truly appreciate the many blessings that God has given us, and I want to reevaluate how and where we give our money. From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. (Luke 12:48) Though I have often taken it for granted, I have been given so, so much. I pray that I appreciate it and use it to glorify God.

Columbus Day: Genocide and Curiosity

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Like many American children, I learned this little rhyme when I was in grade school. I also learned that Christopher Columbus set off with his three ships to find a new trade route to the Orient. Being a man ahead of his time, Columbus sailed west to get east, believing that the world was round even though it was common knowledge that the world was flat. He didn't make it to his intended destination, but instead discovered America.

This didn't sit well with me as a child. I wondered how Columbus could discover a continent that was already populated. Several years ago I read a book called Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen that left me feeling even more uncomfortable with Christopher Columbus. The book states that "American history books present Columbus pretty much without precedent, and they portray him as American's first great hero." That seems to fit with what I remember learning in school. Unfortunately, many details about Columbus's work are left out of history books, replaced with stories to make him seem more heroic.

One common misconception in history books is that Columbus bravely dared to sail west when everyone of his time knew that this meant he would fall off of the edge of our flat Earth. In the middle ages, people did believe that the world was flat, but by Columbus's day it was common knowledge that the Earth is round. Columbus was not on an ideological quest to prove that the earth was round; he was searching for wealth. In a letter to the king and queen of Spain he wrote, "Gold is most excellent; gold constitutes treasure; and he who has it does all he wants in the world..." This was the common motivator for many "explorers" that children learn about in school, but since this sounds base and materialistic, more heroic reasons were fabricated.

A more disturbing omission from history books is the treatment of the native people by Columbus and his crew. From Lies My Teacher Told Me: "When Columbus and his men returned to Haiti in 1493, they demanded food, gold, spun cotton -- whatever the Indians had that they wanted, including sex with their women." He also enslaved about 5,000 native people and sent them across the Atlantic to Europe. When the native people rebelled in 1495, Columbus declared war. The native people did not stand a chance of survival against the European guns and cannons. Ferdinand Columbus's biography of his father describes the event: "The [European] soldiers mowed down dozens [of native people] with point-blank volleys, loosed the dogs to rip open limbs and bellies, chased fleeing Indians into the bush to skewer them on sword and pike, and with God's aid soon gained complete victory, killing many Indians and capturing others who were also killed."

They committed genocide. "Yet only one of the twelve textbooks...mentions the extermination. None mentions Columbus's role in it" (Lies My Teacher Told Me).

Why don't we teach our children the truth? The truth is terrible, certainly, but it is true. It is history. I understand the need for heroes, for figures to inspire children, but why fabricate stories to create heroes instead of simply teaching children about real historical heroes?

I wrestled with myself as to whether I should write this post. The name of this blog comes from the words of Mohondas Ghandi: "We must be the change we wish to see in the world." Writing a post about the atrocities committed by Christopher Columbus will not inspire positive change. I think that positive lessons can be learned from this, though. I think it is important to foster curiosity, to challenge ourselves to dig deeper and learn more. It is important to foster curiosity, but not cynicism. There are terrible things that have happened and are happening, but that doesn't mean that everything is terrible. We learn about the terrible things so that we can ensure that they never happen again, so that we can be the change we wish to see.

Freedom

It's July 4th, so in the United States the word of the day is freedom. Freedom is one of those words that I hear so often in American rhetoric that it has begun to lose its meaning for me. This may have started when some Americans were mad at France and decided that they would replace the word French with the word Freedom in all food products.

 Freedom evokes images of flags and soldiers, but what were (are) they fighting for? Librarian that I am soon to be, I looked up freedom's dictionary definition.


Freedom: the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint. 


The state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint. What are things that can cause confinement or physical restraint, from which all people have the right to be free? Lack of access to food, shelter, safety, clean water and air, healthcare, and education to start. All cause confinement and restraint and all stem from poverty. Eradicating these things may be why our country is entangled in several wars. 


I pray for everyone who is serving in the armed forces to protect freedom. But what about the rest of us? On this day that Americans celebrate freedom, let us ask ourselves, what are we doing to help those in need, to eradicate the plague of poverty that separates people, including many Americans, from freedom?

Hope Not Despair

I'm sure you've heard about the terrible shooting that took place in Arizona on Saturday. And you've probably heard the different political pundits pointing fingers saying that it happened because of the political climate caused by one side or the other. These accusations break my heart - that people would use a tragedy to propegate their political agenda and derogate the other side.

Last night on The Daily Show, Jon Stewart reflected on this in a seldom seen serious moment. He said that political pundits "find the tidbit or two that will exonerate their side from blame or implicate the other...watching that is as predictable as it is dispiriting." As much as Stewart thinks that there are serious problems with the political system and the way political pundits act, he doesn't blame the system for the shooting. "Boy wouldn't that be nice?" he said, "if we just stop this [insert political problem here] the horrors will end." It would be nice to have a scapegoat, something specific to fix to ensure that a tragedy like this will never happen again, even better if that something is a thing that we strongly disagree with anyway. That would be nice, but it isn't true. There isn't one thing to fix. The situation is terribly disheartening, but Stewart said, "I refuse to give in to this feeling of despair."

I too refuse to give in to this feeling of despair. My heart breaks for the people who were hurt or lost their lives and for all of the friends and family. My heart breaks, but it will not despair. I cannot let go of hope for something better, or what is the point of this life? I agree with Jon Stewart that we need to take this tragedy as an inspiration to make our world better.

If you read my husband's blog you've read this news story related to the shooting. (I will note, that I found and was planning on blogging about this story before I read Jason's blog. Great minds think alike?) There is a group of people who call themselves a church who are planning to protest the funeral of Christina Green, the nine-year-old girl who was shot and killed, because she was Catholic and these people believe that God hates Catholics. I can't express the sorrow and rage that filled me when I read this. How easily could I have despaired? But I kept reading the article. There is another group of people who have planned an "angel action" in response. They are going to wear large angel wings and silently surround the outside of the church where the funeral will be held. This will surround the mourners in a protective shield from the protesters. The angel action participants are not planning a counter protest; they are simply allowing those affected to grieve in peace. What a beautiful, simple action coming from a horrible action!

I am not a Pollyanna, only looking at the good things and ignoring the bad. I see the bad, and I feel these things deeply. But I also see hope. I look for hope. Sometimes I have to desperately seek for it. But it is always there. And we are always able to create it. Which brings me back to one of my very favorite quotes, and a description of how I try to live my life:

"We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.” -- Mohondas Ghandi

Jury Duty

I drove by the jail the other day, and as often happens, was flooded with memories...

I think Pennsylvania's judicial system likes me. I'm only 25, but I've been called for jury duty three times, not counting several deferrals when I was in college. The first time I was called I sat in the basement of the Greensburg Courthouse for half a day and was sent home. The second time my number wasn't picked the night before so I didn't have to go. The third time was this spring.

I live in Allegheny County now, so I went downtown and was filed into a large room in the courthouse that was packed with people. We had to fill out a form answering questions about our views on things like drugs and the police and if those views would impact our ability to be on a jury. We waited for a bit and then they started breaking us in to groups to be interviewed for cases. I was picked for the second group, which was very large. So, I waited there for a while until it was time to be interviewed.

As I was sitting there, two people next to me were talking about how this is a waste of their time, they hope they aren't picked, that they should have lied on their form and said that they have many biases. I was quite surprised when they then started talking about conservative politics and both claimed to be strong patriots. My political views are often labeled as liberal, and as many people now see "liberal" and "patriotic" as complete opposites, I don't usually claim to be patriotic. But in that moment, I realized that I am strongly patriotic. I wasn't happy to spend my day sitting in a room crowded with strangers. I wasn't happy to lose pay for both of my part-time jobs. But, I believe in the right to trial by jury, and that means I must be willing to serve on a jury. Sometimes I get strong feelings about what is going to happen, and in that moment, I knew I was going to be picked for a jury. And I felt proud to be able to serve my country.

Eventually I was called up to be interviewed. The prosecutor, the defense attorney, and the defendant sat at the table. The two attorneys asked me questions, mainly about my job and my husband's line of work. The defense attorney seemed to like that I had a background in social work and that my husband and I both worked at a church. It only took a few minutes, and I returned to my seat to wait some more. Eventually they called the names of those chosen for the jury. I was juror number nine.

The defendant was charged with murder and robbery. He and another man were in an altercation about drug money that lead to the defendant stabbing the victim, removing heroin from his person, and running away. (From here on out, I'll refer to the defendant as D and the victim as V). D claimed that he knew that V was violent, and D was scared. D claimed that V started a fight, and D grabbed a kitchen knife to scare V away. V continued the fight, which lead to D accidentally stabbing V. D knew that V was injured, but was afraid of being arrested, so he decided to run away. D knew that V would be searched when the police or ambulance came, so took the heroin so that V wouldn't get in trouble for it. The prosecution's claim was that there was an altercation where D stabbed V, stole the drugs, and ran away. There was no question that D stabbed V, and there was no question about premeditation.

The trail took two days. It wasn't as glamorous as you see on TV. The courtroom was old and drab and the desks were covered with papers. The jury was ushered in and out after everyone else was in place. We walked by D each time, and I tried not to make eye contact. I tried not to look at him, his family, or V's family because I didn't want my emotions to sway me. As it was a short trail, we were not allowed to take notes, so I tried to be as alert as possible and pay close attention. We heard witnesses, police officers, and medical experts. We were shown the bloody knife and bloody clothes along with photos of the scene. D did not take the stand, though an audio recording that he made was played. He had been caught the same day as the stabbing, and said that he used the heroin because he was so upset. The recording was made soon after he was caught. He was crying and said that he admitted to stabbing V, but said that he didn't mean to do it. This tape was actually played by the prosecution, which surprised me because hearing how emotional D was lead me to believe him. Though I tried not to make eye contact with D during the trail, I did glance at him, and he showed no emotion. He just sat there each day except for the short time when his girlfriend was on the stand when he did seem to be quite agitated.

We deliberated for two days. Before the trial started, the jury was asked to pick a foreperson. We sat in the small jury room and silently stared at each other for a moment before I spoke up. I was the third youngest person in the room and often doubt my leadership abilities because of my age. I said that if no one else wanted to do it, I would do it. I didn't think about it, really. It was something that needed to be done, and since no one else spoke up, I did. No one objected to my age, so I became the foreperson. I don't think I knew what I was getting myself in to.

The first day of deliberations was terrible. The group was split. Some believed he meant to do it, some did not. Some believed that anyone involved with drugs was terrible. People became worked up, and emotionally involved. There was yelling and cursing. People were not listening to each other. They were talking over each other. And I was in charge of controlling the room. I felt sheepish telling people who were more than twice my age that they needed to be quiet. Who was I, some young girl, to tell her elders what to do? I tried to keep the peace, but that was a terribly hard day.

I prayed constantly during this experience. I prayed that I would keep an open mind and truly believe that D was innocent unless the evidence could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was guilty. I tend to be opinionated and can sometimes make snap judgments, and am convinced that without God's help, I would not have been able to keep an open mind. At the end of the first day of deliberations, I believed D's testimony. I also prayed for peace for our group and for strength as a leader. I wanted to let everyone's voice be heard. I wanted everyone to feel that their opinions were respected.

The second day of deliberations got off to a better start than the first. I think a fresh day and coffee and bagels helped. I said that I knew that we all had strong opinions, but asked everyone to please try to keep their emotions and past experiences out of the conversation, and to please try to look objectively at the facts. I said that I wanted everyone's voice to be heard and so I asked for people to raise their hands and I would call on them to talk. I couldn't believe my gumption, but I felt that something had to be done. It went alright. I had to cut some people off as they went into personal ranting, but the room was more respectful than the day before.

We had to decide between Manslaughter, Murder 3, and Murder 2, and also between two kinds of Robbery. Oh, that was a process. We were allowed to ask the judge questions, though he wasn't allowed to answer all of them. When we wanted to ask a question, we had to get our tipstaff, a man who was an officer of the court and served as intermediate between us and the judge. He gave me a form on which to write the questions, he gave it to the judge, the judge wrote on it, gave it back to our tipstaff, who gave it to us. We could also write requests for evidence. We requested all of the photographs and went over them in great detail, trying to compare them to the different testimonies we had heard. We were finding holes in the stories.
We requested the knife and clothing that D and V were wearing, and were given rubber gloves to use while handling them.

I am actually thankful that I grew up with a father who loved Murder, She Wrote and Matlock and am married to a man who loves CSI and Law and Order. I think that while those shows were on in my home, parts of them must have gotten in to my brain subconsciously. Somehow I decided that to determine if D's story was true, we needed to act it out. We had been told the height of both men, so I found two people in the room who matched those heights. We had requested the medical examiner's images of the wound trajectories, so I had the two members see if the wounds could have been inflicted in the accidental manner that D claimed. It didn't seem possible.

We also wondered if D was crying on his taped confession because he was truly upset or because he was crashing after using the heroin. We had a nurse on the jury who knew the symptoms and timing of heroin withdrawal, so after figuring out when he used the heroin and when the recording was made determined that he would have been crashing hard at the point. So, maybe he wasn't as upset about it as I first thought.

During the trail and deliberation, we were only allowed to talk about the trail if all 12 jury members were in the room. If someone stepped out to go to the bathroom, I had to stop the conversation. When we went home, we weren't allowed to talk about it. This was awful for me. I work through my thoughts by talking. I get out stressful emotions by talking. At the end of every day, my husband asks how my day was because he is interested I am sure, but also because he knows that it is good for me to talk about it. For this week, I couldn't talk about it. I talked around it as much as I could, and I did tell him that it was a murder trial, though I shouldn't have. Every night I came home and cried. I cannot tell you the last time I felt so emotionally drained. One man was dead, the other had killed him. Though I tried not to look at both families, I saw them, and they were torn apart, crying. I had a room of eleven emotional strangers, among whom it was my role to keep the peace. And we were deciding the fate of D's life, we could help justice be served, for D or V. This was a terrible responsibility. I don't think I would have understood how emotionally draining the process was  if I hadn't lived it.

As we wear nearing the end of our second day of deliberation, we were getting closer to deciding on a verdict. We had requested detailed explanations of the different charges, and after reading the explanations and applying some simple logic I realized that Manslaughter could fit with the one type of Robbery and Murder 2 could fit with the other form of Robbery. Those were the only logical options. It took a little while for me to explain this to the group, but as others got it, they helped me to explain it again. This knowledge made things a bit easier because now we only had to pick between two options instead of piecing together between five different things. At this point I had changed my mind from Manslaughter (D killed V accidentally in a struggle) to Murder 2 (D knowingly stabbed V with the intent of stealing the heroin). It was a difficult decision, but I prayed about it and asked friends and family to pray for me to make the right decision (though I couldn't give them details), and when I came to the decision, I felt peace with it. I felt terribly emotional about the process, but knew that God had lead me to the correct decision. Slowly, others in the group who had been for Manslaughter changed their minds to Murder 2. We all felt stressed and worn. Many people cried. God helped me to hold myself together.

It was strange to be in such an emotional situation with people I had just met that week. It was also very strange for me to not speak about God throughout this process. There was enough tension in our discussions, I didn't want to upset anyone by bringing religion in to it. But, after we had made our decision and our tipstaff had taken my written verdict to the judge, I decided to chance mentioning God. I told the group that I didn't know what their beliefs were, but that I personally had been praying, and had friends and family praying for us, as we made this difficult decision. Several others said that they too had been praying. No one was offended.

Our tipstaff returned and took us back to the courtroom. I was shaking as I walked by the defendant, holding a copy of our written verdict. I had asked the tipstaff for direction in giving the verdict, and he said the judge would guide me. The judge didn't. He just asked the foreperson to stand and give the verdict. Again, I'm glad I had men in my life who watched courtroom shows! I stood, knees shaking, but spoke in a strong voice as I read through each charge. "On the count of Murder in the Second Degree, the jury finds the defendant guilty." I just about fell into my chair when I was done, my knees had been shaking so much. The judge polled the jury, and we all agreed with our finding. V's family cried. D's family cried. D sat staring. D waved his right to an appeal and was sentenced right there. I didn't know but Murder 2 comes with a mandatory life sentence without the chance of parole. The judge sentenced D while he was put into handcuffs and leg shackles. Then he was lead from the courtroom. Then the jury was dismissed. I didn't hear it because I was trying to hold myself together and look strait ahead, but another jury member said that V's family thanked us. As soon as I got out of the courtroom I started to cry. I didn't let myself cry for long, but I just couldn't hold it in any more. I had just sent a man to prison for the rest of his life. He was only 24 years old.

The night after the verdict, I somewhat obsessively Googled D and V and all of the news stories about the case. They both had criminal  records, mainly for drug dealing and possession. I think that if V had been standing near the kitchen knife, the role of victim and defendant would have been reversed. They both had issues with heroin. And now, V is dead, and D has lost his freedom.

I felt emotionally shaky for the next few days. I wasn't ready to talk about the case just yet. But time passed. I talked about it. I began to heal. I still think about V and D sometimes, almost every time I drive by the jail. During the trial, I referred to V and D as Mr. So-and-so, but I've found myself thinking of them by their first names now. I pray for V's soul. I pray that D is filled with the love of God and can share that with the other inmates. I pray for both of the families. And I pray for all of the people affected by drugs and violence.

In many ways jury duty was a terrible experience, and I admit that I hope I am not called again any time soon, if ever. Some members of the jury said that if they are called again, they will say something to get themselves out of it. As much as I don't want to go through an experience like this again, if I am called to serve, I will. I will even volunteer to be the foreperson again. Trial by jury is an American right, and I am proud that I was able to serve.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

*Please wear purple tomorrow, October 20, for Spirit Day. Show your support for gay teens, and remember the tragic loss gay teens to suicide.*

I was glad to read that a bit of progress has been made in overturning Don't Ask, Don't Tell. The Pentagon told military recruiters to accept openly gay applicants if they meet all of the other requirements. There is still a chance of this being overturned, but I have hope.

I can't understand why we would want to turn people away from serving the country simply because of their sexual orientation. I am not going to address my views on war or the military in general in this post, but I will say that I sure as heck don't want to serve in the military. If there are people who feel that calling, please let them. I understand that it would be a change. In those close quarters, it could be difficult to work next to someone who might be attracted to you in a way that you do not return. But don't men and women serve together? Surely there must be some unrequited feelings among heterosexuals in the military. The West Wing (my all-time favorite show, as you have probably figured out if you've read some of my other posts) also makes a good point through Admiral Fitzwallace. The quality of the video below is poor, so I also listed the text of what I think is the most important part.

MAJOR TATE

Sir, we’re not prejudiced toward homosexuals.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

You just don’t want to see them serving in the Armed Forces?

MAJOR TATE

No sir, I don’t.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

‘Cause they oppose a threat to unit discipline and cohesion.

MAJOR TATE

Yes sir.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

That’s what I think too. I also think the military wasn’t designed to be an instrument of social change.

MAJOR TATE

Yes sir.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

The problem with that is that what they were saying to me 50 years ago. Blacks shouldn’t serve with Whites. It would disrupt the unit. You know what? It did disrupt the unit. The unit got over it. The unit changed. I’m an admiral in the U.S. Navy and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff...Beat that with a stick.

I don't pretend to know a lot about the military. But I do know that all people deserve to be treated with honor and respect.

No Hate

My heart broke when I heard about Tyler Clement (this article explains), and I agree with Ellen. The bullying needs to stop. The hate needs to stop. I personally do not believe that being gay is a choice or a sin. Even if that is your view, I think we can both agree that every person deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, regardless of sexual orientation. In the articled linked above, Tyler Clementi's parents said that they hope their son's death "will serve as a call for compassion, empathy, and human dignity." I pray that it will be. 

To take a small step to help end the hate, you can add your name to this letter that will be sent to Secretary of Education Arne Duncan asking that gender identity and sexual orientation be included in anti-bullying programs. And check out the NOH8 Campaign because that is what we need - no hate.

Small Things

I just read an article and then saw a segment on the NBC Nightly News about poverty rates in the US. They didn't surprise me, but they still broke my heart. Poverty rates in the US are up, the highest they've been in over 50 years. 43.6 million Americans are considered by the government to be living in poverty, though in reality this number is much higher because of the outdated method of calculating the poverty line (from the article, "The US government considers an annual income of $21,756 to be the poverty line for a family of four").

I wish I was writing because I had a fantastic idea about how to work on a large level to eradicate poverty, in the US and worldwide. Unfortunately, this isn't the case, but I felt I had to write something. All I know to do are little things. Make donations of money, food, and clothing, no matter how small. Volunteer at a local shelter or food pantry. Pray. Love. As Mother Teresa said, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

Love Our Neighbors

I wrote a short post last month about interfaith harmony, but recently read an article titled "Fellow Americans' Suspicions Frustrate US Muslims" and want to share some of it. 

Nine years of denouncing terrorism, of praying side-by-side with Jews and Christians, of insisting "I'm American, too." None of it could stop a season of hate against Muslims that made for an especially fraught Sept. 11. Now, Muslims are asking why their efforts to be accepted in the United States have been so easily thwarted. ... U.S. Muslim condemnations of terrorism have failed to persuade other Americans.

 Some Americans are protesting Park51, threatening to burn the Qur'an, and vandalizing and shooting at US mosques. Why aren't we loving our neighbors?

...ignorance about what Islam teaches is widespread. More than half of respondents in a recent poll by the Pew Forum for Religion and Public Life said they knew little or nothing about the Muslim faith.

"I think that part of the reason the general American public is not listening is the common human impulse to fear and mistrust what we don't know or understand," said Abdullahi An-Na'im, an expert in Islam and human rights at Emory University School of Law.

We fear what we don't understand. And we protect ourselves from feeling fear by emitting hate. It's a tragic tale that has happened countless times before in history. 

But, we can fix it. If hate comes from fear and fear comes from lack of understanding, then let's increase our understanding. Take a class, read a book or website, or have a conversation with a practicing Muslim. Islam is a peaceful religion, and Muslims are our neighbors. Let's show them some love.

A Return to Modesty

I recently read A Return to Modesty: Discovering the Lost Virtue by Wendy Shalit. A friend lent it to me quite a while ago actually, and it was in my ever growing pile of books to read for longer than I'd like to admit. I am fascinated by non-fiction, but will almost always pick up a novel or a memoir over anything else if given the choice.

A Return to Modesty is a cultural history of women's sexual modesty. It was published in 1999 (which seems like it shouldn't be more than a decade ago), but it is still pertinent. Shalit sees herself as falling somewhere in between "conservatives" and "feminists" (her terms) on the issue of modesty. She believes in equality of the sexes, but thinks society has warped this to mean that the two sexes should be the same. My pastor lent me several books when Jason and I got married that addressed differences between the sexes. Men and women are equal, but we are not the same. Certainly all members of one sex cannot be painted with the same brush, but there are traits that tend to belong to each males and females. Unfortunately, I think that some of the traditionally female traits have been seen as worth less than traditional male traits, so women have felt the need to act like men in order to succeed.

Shalit sees this need for sameness as taking away from women's ability to be feminine, including exercising modesty in dress and in actions. Revealing clothing and premarital sex are now the norm. Shalit connects this to problems in our society such as harassment, stalking, and rape (which made the first section of the book, "The Problem," difficult for me to read). Shalit says that when she was in high school, being modest wasn't cool. I think that often this is still the case, which breaks my heart.

"Respect for modesty made women powerful," Shalit says. "Women who dress and act 'modestly' conduct themselves in ways that shroud their sexuality in mystery. They live in a way that makes womanliness more a transcendent, implicit quality than a crude, explicit quality." Modesty in dress doesn't mean that you can't be fashionable, and modesty in action doesn't mean that you must be a prude or a bore. I feel that modesty is really about self-respect, and I like the way that Shalit phrases this idea: "So one of modesty's paradoxes, then, is that it is usually a reflection of self-worth, of having such a high opinion of yourself that you don't need to boast or put your body on display for all to see."

A Return to Modesty isn't a page-turner, but it is interesting, and I think that Wendy Shalit raised good questions and made interesting points. And, I think, she showed that modesty is sexy.

Free Click-to-Donate

I'm a big fan of click-to-donate websites. They are just what they sound like -- a simple click of the mouse creates donations from sponsors to organizations that support charities. You can click once each day on each cause, and it only takes a few seconds.

My favorite click-to-donate site is Care2.com. I found it sometime in the late 90s, and I've been clicking ever since. There is a lot to this site, a lot more than I've explored: news, e-cards, social networking, and easy actions that can be taken to help the world. Care2's current click to donate causes are children, rainforests, big cats, breast cancer, pets, seals, oceans, primates, global warming, stopping violence, and wolves.

A similar site is the Greater Good's Click to Give. On this site you can click to support charities related to hunger, breast cancer, literacy, child health, rainforests, and animal rescue. This site has a shop that sells clothes, jewelry, home ware, and other items. Proceeds from all purchases also go to charity. They now have an iPhone app called Touch to Give based on Click to Give.

This site lists other click-to-donate pages. They're a quick and easy way to make a difference. I try to remember to click every day. It is a small thing, but it adds up and does help to make a difference.

I've been thinking that it is time for me to do more than just the small things, though. And I think it involves a trip to Haiti....

Interfaith Harmony

Both my husband and a good friend blogged about this recently, so I won't say much, but I've been planning to blog something about the hoopla surrounding the proposed mosque (which is actually a cultural center) at Ground Zero (though it is actually two blocks away). I read this Q & A to better inform myself. The name for the center was to be the Cordoba House, after a medieval Spanish town where Jews, Muslims, and Christians lived together in a harmonious interfaith community. The name was changed to Park51 (after the location) following criticism of the name Cordoba House. I don't understand why anyone would object to a name, or a center, that encourages interfaith harmony. It deeply saddens me that misunderstanding about Islam leads people to believe that all Muslims are hateful and violent, when that is far from the truth. This analogy about Islamic extremism seems shocking, but it is truthful and important to remember:

Islamic Extremism is to Islam as The KKK is to Christianity.

One of the founders of the center said, "we want to provide a counter momentum against extremism. We want peace, and we want it where it matters most. This is where it matters most." How can we argue with that?

Is Being Rich a Sin? -- A Response

My friend Ian Gallo wrote this blog post entitled "Is Being Rich a Sin?", and asked for my thoughts (and then said it is ok for me the share my response to him on my blog). I've been thinking and praying about what Ian wrote. I struggle with many of the same questions, and am not exactly sure how to respond. This is an emotional issue for me, which makes it difficult for me to put my thoughts into words. I don't feel that I can give answers, but I will share some of my thoughts and struggles.

I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for Ian to go from a trip to Haiti to Upper St. Clair (a wealthy suburb of Pittsburgh, PA). I've never been to a developing nation. I've barely lived outside of the suburbs of western PA. I did an internship for a year working with low-income older adults in East Liberty (a low-income section of Pittsburgh, PA), and it broke my heart. I started struggling with the issue of money at a young age. My parents tell me that once when I was in early elementary school, we were driving around to look at Christmas lights, and I went off on a rant about how the houses we passed were too big and people shouldn't spend their money that way. But, how many toys did I have? The answer is a lot. 

I have never known what it is to go without. As a twenty-something grad student in the early years of my marriage, I've had times where money was very tight, but by American standards. We've had times where we needed to wait a few days until a paycheck came in to do a big order at the grocery store, but we would never go without food. If things were really tight, we could cancel our internet service, my cell phone, or Netflix to save money. We have parents, friends, and a church community who could care for us if we needed them to. I've worried about how to manage money and how to pay all of our bills, but I've never worried about going hungry.

I have been working on lessening my materialistic nature. I have never been one to purchase expensive things (my mom taught me at a young age how to be a bargain shopper), but I used to shop the sales racks quite often. But, just because I found a sweater on sale doesn't mean that I needed another sweater. I used to buy a lot of stuff -- a lot of stuff I didn't need. I've been thinking about that a lot lately: what do I really need? I've been trying to find a balance. I do not like how much stuff I used to have. I don't like that I used to buy things all of the time. I don't like that shopping was an activity for me. (I won't get started on the term "retail therapy.") So, I rarely go to stores anymore. I take myself out of the temptation.

"Need" is difficult to define. Compared to the people in Haiti, I don't need most of the things that I have; I only need the very basics. To work at a library and go to grad school, I need more things (appropriate work clothes, transportation, a computer, and internet access). I strongly feel that God has called me to school and library work, and I could not do those things if I sold everything I own. So, my level of need goes up. But of course I still completely surpass that. My biggest struggle is determining what is something that I am blessed to have and what is just unnecessary.

I found this Bible passage and have been thinking about it:

When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the LORD your God for the good land he has given you. Be careful that you do not forget the LORD your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, then your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. -- Deuteronomy 8:10-14

I think there is a difference between being rich (having a lot of money) and being covetous ("inordinately or wrongly desirous of wealth or possessions; greedy" according to Dictionary.com). I see this passage as warning us that having money or possessions (being rich) can lead to pride and greed -- forgetting that all we have is a blessing from God. And that is the true problem. A rich person can have a pure, God-filled heart. A person can have a lot of money but live simply. My mom worked with a man who is a millionaire, but she only found that out after knowing him for years. He lived in a nice house, but not a mansion, and wore suits but wasn't flashy. He was a devout Jew and gave a lot of money each year to his synagogue and charities.

What I am not sure of is how do we know where to draw the line of acceptability? How do we know what is ok to have and what isn't? I think I am just repeating some of Ian's questions. I don't want to just defend living the lifestyle I want, but I think the state of our hearts in relationship to our wealth and possessions is the most important thing, and a desire to do more, care more, and love more, with everything we are and everything we have.

Homophobia Is Gay

Last week Proposition 8 was overturned in California. Prop 8 was a ballot proposition, which amended the California Constitution to outlaw gay marriage (more info here). Depending on the outcome of the appeals process, the Prop 8 situation may go to the Supreme Court. If that happens, I hope that its unconstitutionality is upheld, setting a standard for our other 49 states. I just don't understand what the big deal is about gay people getting married.

I've heard that gay marriage is going to ruin families in America (and many other claims as seen in this video from 2008 after same-sex marriage was made legal in Massachusetts). This argument doesn't make sense to me. It might if gay people were inherently bad parents, but this study and knowing caring, competant gay people tell me that this isn't true.

And then the Bible is used as an argument against not just gay marriage, but gays in general. The verse typically cited is Leviticus 18:22, which says, "Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable." This verse doesn't address sexual orientation. It says that men should not have sex with other men. But... This verse comes from a section of the Bible with many rules that seem to no longer be applicable, as seen in the examples in this speech from The West Wing:

President Josiah Bartlet: I like your show. I like how you call homosexuality an abomination. 
Dr. Jenna Jacobs: I don't say homosexuality is an abomination, Mr. President. The Bible does.
President Josiah Bartlet: Yes, it does. Leviticus. 
Dr. Jenna Jacobs: 18:22. 
President Josiah Bartlet: Chapter and verse. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I had you here. I'm interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She's a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be? While thinking about that, can I ask another? My Chief of Staff Leo McGarry insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or is it okay to call the police? Here's one that's really important 'cause we've got a lot of sports fans in this town: Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point? Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you? 

It saddens me that some Christians cling to Leviticus 18:22 and let themselves be filled with hate for people who are gay. When Jesus is asked which commandment is greatest (Matthew 22:37-39), he responded by saying, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself." The second most important thing we are to do in our lives is to love our neighbors as our selves. All of our neighbors. Including our gay neighbors.

Controversial Subject

From my journal on April 28, 2009

While stopped at a red light a fairly busy intersection on my way to work yesterday there were a dozen people with large signs that read "ABORTION IS MURDER" with graphic pictures of aborted fetuses. I was tempted to pull over and have a conversation with one of them.

"Hello. I don't necessarily disagree with what you are saying... I am not a proponent of abortion. I don't think anyone is pro-abortion. I do feel that it is taking a life, and I have a hard time with any human extinguishing another human life. I worry about the government regulating a woman's health, though. And an even greater worry is that if the government were to make abortion illegal, women would still get abortions. Some would visit certified doctors who would perform the abortions safely though they were breaking the law. Many other women would end up having abortions in unsafe ways that would result in the deaths of mothers and children.

But even if I agree with you, I am not sure what you are trying to accomplish right now. Do a large number of women with unwanted pregnancies drive this way at this time of day? Do theses signs disgust them into keeping the baby? I think it would be more effective to teach comprehensive sex education in schools, including how to have safe sex and what an abortion entails. Kids are going to have sex whether they are taught about it or not, so we should teach them how to be safe. I don't think many girls (or women for that matter) know what an abortion really involves. I am not opposed to sharing the graphic details, but I think a real conversation would make a greater impact than a large sign. Also - and this is huge - to truly eradicate abortions, we need to combat poverty. If people had greater resources (education as well as the financial means to purchase contraceptives), the abortion rate would decrease greatly.

Though I am saying these things, I strongly believe that sex is meant for marriage and not before. I think that parents have a responsibility to instill moral values in their children. They should talk openly about sex and why it is important to wait, instead of using fear tactics or simply avoiding the subject altogether.

So, those are some of my thoughts. I think it would be great if you could work to lower or even eliminate abortions, but I just don't think that standing here with these signs is going to change anything."

Haiti

48,000 people live in this tent city in Port-au-Prince, Haiti

I don't think my brain can comprehend that. Forty-eight thousand people live in that tent city. Though, according to the article, most people don't actually have tents. There are only 114 latrines for all 48,000 people. Can you imagine? In all honesty, I cannot. 

I have been blessed beyond belief in my life in so many ways. I have always had a house in a safe area to call home. I've always had plumbing and electricity. I've always had clean water and healthy food to eat. I even had my own bathroom at my parents' house. It took me some time to get used to sharing the bathroom with my husband when we got married. I can't begin to comprehend sharing it with 422 people. Four hundred twenty-two people! And because of the lack of sanitation, disease runs rampant. I won't get started (at least not now) on my views about the healthcare system in the United States, but it is worlds beyond what is available in Haiti.

In a bit over a week, I'm going to start grad school. This is after I went to a four-year college for undergrad, which was after Kindergarten through twelfth grade in a very good school district. In the tent city in Haiti, it is estimated that 250 children out of 13,000 are able to attend school.

All of this breaks my heart. I don't understand it. And I don't understand how I constantly forget how blessed I am - how I take so much for granted. I don't want to forget Haiti. It isn't on the news 24-7 anymore (not that I watch any of the 24 hour news networks - another topic I won't get in to now), but that doesn't mean that Haiti isn't still suffering from extreme devastation.

I have two friends who went to Haiti at the beginning of this year. One was there during the earthquake and the other went a bit after it happened. Both shared photos, videos, and stories with me. My husband was supposed to go to Haiti in February to help at LaCroix Haiti New Testament Mission, but his trip was canceled due to the earthquake. We hope to go together sometime in the next year. There is so much work that needs to be done, so much love to be given. I hope that I can give at least a little bit. And until then, I pray for Haiti, and I rejoice in the many blessings in my life. In the words of Jane Austen, I want to "feel the importance of every day, and every hour as it passes."