It's strange to think that 19 years ago today, a catastrophic 7.2 earthquake hit this place and stole thousands of lives. Nearly everyone I have met lost a friend, a parent, or a sibling in the devastation. The reason Mother Teresa came to Spitak in the first place was to give immediate relief in the aftermath of the disaster. Her Sisters have been here ever since. In fact, if it weren't for the earthquake, I wouldn't be here. All of the factories, businesses, and the general spirit of the people was leveled at the time of the earthquake- and for the most part, it remains that way. Keep the people of Spitak in your prayers as they mourn their loved ones today!
It's been a while since I've written something! And I sit here, still not really sure what to write. I guess my time here has become less and less a trip or an adventure (though there are definitely still moments) and more and more my LIFE.
I began teaching at a school in a nearby village over a month ago. It's been an organizational disaster, but I love it anyway. First of all, the days I was supposed to go and teach kept changing and the kids never knew when to come and there were teachers who were not so thrilled that these kids were leaving their classes to come to learn English (and I don't really blame them). The second obstacle was that I have kids from ages 6-14, which makes planning a nightmare, because they're all at different levels. I have no resources (no books etc) and spend mornings making my own worksheets by hand. There's also that little language problem, which means the Sisters have been sending one of the less severely disabled children along with me to translate. While they like to come, that really makes things more of an adventure. But despite all of these minor challenges, I really like it (and was very surprised by that- I never thought I'd like to teach, or that I'd be teaching here!)
I spend a TON of time with kids- AND IT'S GREAT. The Sisters made me more or less responsible for a rosary prayer group for children that happens once a week. Forty kids come and belt out the rosary in between sporadic kicking and poking. I had to break up a fist fight a couple of weeks ago. I saw it start and was going to let it finish on its own, but suddenly there were 15 boys all punching each other and so I ran in the middle to try to break it up. I'm not really sure why the kids come, because they don't PRAY at all- and it's even boring for me! I feel bad for them, really, and sometimes I find myself goofing off with the boys during the rosary. Ridiculous. I've tried to find ways to get around saying a whole rosary and to make it more interesting, (I experimented a couple of weeks ago with making rosaries- but we didn't have beads, so we tried to make them with paper and flour and water...and it was a failure...surprise), but the Sisters are pretty strict with what they want, and I have to be very sneaky if I want to take initiative and do something different. I feel like I joined the ranks of a religious order and tacitly took a vow of obedience, which sometimes makes me CRAZY- but I'm sure it's good for me. Anyway, the kids are great and I still have a lot of fun despite the setting.
I also spend a lot of time just BEING with the young adults/kids in the home. I was feeling pretty down and useless a couple of weeks ago, and I reflected that my existence here IS often useless, but purposeful. I'm not always DOING something- like washing clothes, cleaning etc- but the needs of the children here transcend those basic needs. They are more or less taken care of better than the kids in the village. But they crave love and attention SO SO badly. I try to take them on walks (snow walks, now), play guitar & sing, draw, be goofy etc. A couple of days ago I was laying across the couch with my legs across Marine, while our 50 year old Vosky (who has Down Syndrome) was giving me a foot massage for like an hour! At the same time, I was holding the hand of Artur, ( 21 years & loves Americans because they say "hey guys") and surrounded by some other kids. My heart was bursting in this moment as I realized how blessed I am.
I can't believe it's already December. Wow. For the first time in my life I think I am experiencing Advent qua Advent. All of the things I thought were so normal about this time of the year have been stripped away. I admit that I really do miss some of the traditions of Christmas like baking with my mom and sisters, watching White Christmas, admiring Christmas lights, listening to Christmas music (the Sisters turn off all the radios during advent) etc. Advent here is really Advent- which is great, but different. I finally feel as though I'm preparing for the coming of Christ.
And, I don't need to watch White Christmas anyway, because I think I will have my own White Christmas, for the first time! It's really snowy in these beautiful mountains. And it's cold too. I washed clothes today and am afraid they will turn into icicles by the time I go home. Oh well.
As the time goes by, I am growing and continuing to be challenged and so very happy to be here. I also miss friends and family: you continue to be in my thoughts and prayers. My plan now is go home in late May, so we'll see what happens.
Love and God Bless,
Gen
Friday, December 7, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
"shnorhakalutzjun"
That means thank you. What a ridiculous word.
Anyway, the point of this post is to say that I finally had success uploading pictures. They're on facebook, but you can see them even if you're not a facebook member at:
http://nd.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2116830&l=bcb33&id=5621123
I'm doing well and am really enjoying teaching English- even though it's kind of crazy. The kids gave me a new name because "Genevieve" is too difficult. (And because I gave them new names for the same reason haha). My new name is "Anna."
Anyway, take care! And "shnorhakalutzjun" for everything!
Anyway, the point of this post is to say that I finally had success uploading pictures. They're on facebook, but you can see them even if you're not a facebook member at:
http://nd.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2116830&l=bcb33&id=5621123
I'm doing well and am really enjoying teaching English- even though it's kind of crazy. The kids gave me a new name because "Genevieve" is too difficult. (And because I gave them new names for the same reason haha). My new name is "Anna."
Anyway, take care! And "shnorhakalutzjun" for everything!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
confessions?
an unlikely trio:
So I am never really given more than five minutes notice, ok, I'm exaggerating- but an hour, at most- before anything major happens around here. This really bothered me at first, and usually lends itself to inefficiency and general mayhem, but I'm getting more used to it. So, about two weeks ago, I asked Sr. Anne Marie at 10 till 9 if I could go with this visiting Irish priest and a polish priest to the country of Georgia. She said sure.
SO ten minutes later I was in the car with the Irish priest, and maybe 13 hours later I was outside, next to a broken down car, in the-middle-of-nowhere Georgia, with a polish priest and an Irish priest. I was there for six days. (Sorry, not next to the broken down car, but in Georgia). It was a really good, and simultaneously difficult (a persistent theme) 6 days. I was surrounded by a new language and a new routine and new people, and this reawakened some loneliness that I felt really severely, especially at the beginning.
I did a lot of ministry- I was active in parish life (this polish priest is the pastor at a couple of parishes), which included visiting homes late at night to bring the Eucharist to the sick and going with some of the parishioners to see a 12th century monastery carved into the side of the cliff. At every home we visited, we were fed by the people- no matter how late at night we came. (And though I felt badly about taking their food, it was also an insult to refuse...and thank God because this Polish priest was essentially an ascetic who forgot that other people need to eat- at least sometimes).
It's amazing how even though I couldn't say anything to the people they were friendly and tried to do everything to talk to me- maybe it's because I seemed a kind of ridiculous addition to these two priests ("one of these things is not like the other"). One man tried very seriously to convince me to stay in his home for a week. The Irish priest was sure that this was so I could marry his son. I also had a recent dream that I was locked into an arranged marriage...
My time in Georgia deepened my growing awareness of the importance of lay people in the Church. I've spend a lot of time with religious- who are great- but who have a vocation that sometimes leaves them a little out of touch with non-religious, non-faithful people around them. Oftentimes people ride off religion as something for priests and nuns...and certainly not for young Americans. And this isn't the only reason why lay people are so important: but the bottom line is that they (rather, WE) really are.
Being away also helped me realize how much I love being here. And when I came back I was attacked with hugs and kisses and spanks (this kids really give a lot of physical affection). I was overwhelmed. I realized I am loved here- at least in some capacity- which is difficult and necessary to accept. I also realized that I DO have community here- it is a strange community, perhaps- a Belgian, a Latvian, an Armenian- but it is good community. I still really miss all of you.
the real side:
I haven't really said much about my practical (?) day to day struggles. I'm not sure why- perhaps because I felt like they were boring and I wanted to save this blog for interesting stories through attempts at reflection and humor. But the reality of my situation is a lot less interesting and less holy than any idea you currently have (even if you already thought it sounded boring and sinful). Also, have you ever been told straight up that you're not holy- with the qualification that you're not even a little holy? I was the other day. And I was frustrated at first, but this probably because I know how true it is.
Anyway, if you really want to understand what life looks like here, you should know that I spend hours every day with handicapped children. Ths is not the background of my time here, (as perhaps I've made it seem through the focus of my blogs), but rather, it IS my time here. I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing, and it's not something that I'm naturally really good at, or honestly, that I ever thought I was interested in. I am learning so much more about myself and how to discipline with love and love when I'm tired, frustrated and feel manipulated. I also am doing some personal care things that I would like to say aren't uncomfortable- but they really are.
It's exhausting work because you're always always needed and wanted. I have so often been the object of intense emotion: sometimes I hear "you're my BEST friend" or "I love for you" (their English is poor, but the fact that they can speak English still amazes me. The other day I was walking around with one of the boys here who can't speak- but he signs for different things, and I'm beginning to be fluent in his language. While we were out, he essentially translated for me from Armenian to English). And at other times, someone hits me, tells me they're not speaking to me, slams doors in my face, screams that I don't love them...etc.
The kids here were abandoned, and not all of them are necessarily "orphaned." What this means is that a wound of rejection and abandonment is DEEP...and they crave love so badly- and some of them (a couple of the teenaged girls, especially) will do anything to get it. And the reality of the situation is that I am not sure how to give it to them- because sometimes showing too much affection actually makes the screaming and door slamming and beating worse. I'm struggling day to day- (with one girl in particular)- and I often make mistakes or become very visibly frustrated and exhausted.
a litany:
There is so much more I NEED to be giving and doing here. I find myself looking for ways out of more difficult and less desirable tasks. I'm really selfish with my time. I think too much about what I need.
I'm serious.
This is not self-deprecating; it's the truth. I am afraid that I'm stumbling, half-here but mostly in the past or the future, through each day. This is such a blessed time. And I have so much more (internal) work to do.
My return ticket was scheduled for Oct 15. That's in three days. I actually think it would be really damaging to come home now. I'm going to be here for a while.
I am getting more involved in the community- and through a random series events that have to do inadvertently with my godmother celebration- I am teaching English 3x a week in a school here. The regional superior came here last week (it was reallly great to meet her and talk with her), and helped move this thing forward. I start Monday.
If you had asked me last year to name to types of service that I was not so interested in, I might list working with disabled and teaching young children. But it doesn't matter so much and I can't explain why. God has greater plans.
I was told by the Sisters that I might be sent to Tbilisi, Georgia to work in their homeless shelter on and off. The Sisters there really need help. They told me this right when I thought I felt at home here. haha. I am learning (through being forced) to give up planning. If/when I do go to Georgia, it won't be until November, because I'm taking the GRE in Yerevan at the end of October.
Also, it's really interesting to be here- outside of the US and in this part of the world- during this current political situation. Especially with the new movement towards recognizing the genocide. I've gotten some comments about this. The reaction has been positive- but in a this-is-really-late-in-coming-since-it-happened-in-1915 sort of way.
Yesterday I bought 3 smallish cucumbers, 2 small onions, 2 tomatoes, 1 big big apple, and a loaf of bread for 210 dram- that's like 70 cents.
I've overdone it this time. Thanks for bearing with me. I send you my love and prayers, and I'd love it if you could send some my way, too.
So I am never really given more than five minutes notice, ok, I'm exaggerating- but an hour, at most- before anything major happens around here. This really bothered me at first, and usually lends itself to inefficiency and general mayhem, but I'm getting more used to it. So, about two weeks ago, I asked Sr. Anne Marie at 10 till 9 if I could go with this visiting Irish priest and a polish priest to the country of Georgia. She said sure.
SO ten minutes later I was in the car with the Irish priest, and maybe 13 hours later I was outside, next to a broken down car, in the-middle-of-nowhere Georgia, with a polish priest and an Irish priest. I was there for six days. (Sorry, not next to the broken down car, but in Georgia). It was a really good, and simultaneously difficult (a persistent theme) 6 days. I was surrounded by a new language and a new routine and new people, and this reawakened some loneliness that I felt really severely, especially at the beginning.
I did a lot of ministry- I was active in parish life (this polish priest is the pastor at a couple of parishes), which included visiting homes late at night to bring the Eucharist to the sick and going with some of the parishioners to see a 12th century monastery carved into the side of the cliff. At every home we visited, we were fed by the people- no matter how late at night we came. (And though I felt badly about taking their food, it was also an insult to refuse...and thank God because this Polish priest was essentially an ascetic who forgot that other people need to eat- at least sometimes).
It's amazing how even though I couldn't say anything to the people they were friendly and tried to do everything to talk to me- maybe it's because I seemed a kind of ridiculous addition to these two priests ("one of these things is not like the other"). One man tried very seriously to convince me to stay in his home for a week. The Irish priest was sure that this was so I could marry his son. I also had a recent dream that I was locked into an arranged marriage...
My time in Georgia deepened my growing awareness of the importance of lay people in the Church. I've spend a lot of time with religious- who are great- but who have a vocation that sometimes leaves them a little out of touch with non-religious, non-faithful people around them. Oftentimes people ride off religion as something for priests and nuns...and certainly not for young Americans. And this isn't the only reason why lay people are so important: but the bottom line is that they (rather, WE) really are.
Being away also helped me realize how much I love being here. And when I came back I was attacked with hugs and kisses and spanks (this kids really give a lot of physical affection). I was overwhelmed. I realized I am loved here- at least in some capacity- which is difficult and necessary to accept. I also realized that I DO have community here- it is a strange community, perhaps- a Belgian, a Latvian, an Armenian- but it is good community. I still really miss all of you.
the real side:
I haven't really said much about my practical (?) day to day struggles. I'm not sure why- perhaps because I felt like they were boring and I wanted to save this blog for interesting stories through attempts at reflection and humor. But the reality of my situation is a lot less interesting and less holy than any idea you currently have (even if you already thought it sounded boring and sinful). Also, have you ever been told straight up that you're not holy- with the qualification that you're not even a little holy? I was the other day. And I was frustrated at first, but this probably because I know how true it is.
Anyway, if you really want to understand what life looks like here, you should know that I spend hours every day with handicapped children. Ths is not the background of my time here, (as perhaps I've made it seem through the focus of my blogs), but rather, it IS my time here. I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing, and it's not something that I'm naturally really good at, or honestly, that I ever thought I was interested in. I am learning so much more about myself and how to discipline with love and love when I'm tired, frustrated and feel manipulated. I also am doing some personal care things that I would like to say aren't uncomfortable- but they really are.
It's exhausting work because you're always always needed and wanted. I have so often been the object of intense emotion: sometimes I hear "you're my BEST friend" or "I love for you" (their English is poor, but the fact that they can speak English still amazes me. The other day I was walking around with one of the boys here who can't speak- but he signs for different things, and I'm beginning to be fluent in his language. While we were out, he essentially translated for me from Armenian to English). And at other times, someone hits me, tells me they're not speaking to me, slams doors in my face, screams that I don't love them...etc.
The kids here were abandoned, and not all of them are necessarily "orphaned." What this means is that a wound of rejection and abandonment is DEEP...and they crave love so badly- and some of them (a couple of the teenaged girls, especially) will do anything to get it. And the reality of the situation is that I am not sure how to give it to them- because sometimes showing too much affection actually makes the screaming and door slamming and beating worse. I'm struggling day to day- (with one girl in particular)- and I often make mistakes or become very visibly frustrated and exhausted.
a litany:
There is so much more I NEED to be giving and doing here. I find myself looking for ways out of more difficult and less desirable tasks. I'm really selfish with my time. I think too much about what I need.
I'm serious.
This is not self-deprecating; it's the truth. I am afraid that I'm stumbling, half-here but mostly in the past or the future, through each day. This is such a blessed time. And I have so much more (internal) work to do.
My return ticket was scheduled for Oct 15. That's in three days. I actually think it would be really damaging to come home now. I'm going to be here for a while.
I am getting more involved in the community- and through a random series events that have to do inadvertently with my godmother celebration- I am teaching English 3x a week in a school here. The regional superior came here last week (it was reallly great to meet her and talk with her), and helped move this thing forward. I start Monday.
If you had asked me last year to name to types of service that I was not so interested in, I might list working with disabled and teaching young children. But it doesn't matter so much and I can't explain why. God has greater plans.
I was told by the Sisters that I might be sent to Tbilisi, Georgia to work in their homeless shelter on and off. The Sisters there really need help. They told me this right when I thought I felt at home here. haha. I am learning (through being forced) to give up planning. If/when I do go to Georgia, it won't be until November, because I'm taking the GRE in Yerevan at the end of October.
Also, it's really interesting to be here- outside of the US and in this part of the world- during this current political situation. Especially with the new movement towards recognizing the genocide. I've gotten some comments about this. The reaction has been positive- but in a this-is-really-late-in-coming-since-it-happened-in-1915 sort of way.
Yesterday I bought 3 smallish cucumbers, 2 small onions, 2 tomatoes, 1 big big apple, and a loaf of bread for 210 dram- that's like 70 cents.
I've overdone it this time. Thanks for bearing with me. I send you my love and prayers, and I'd love it if you could send some my way, too.
Friday, September 21, 2007
I think I'm finally really here
Today is an important day for Armenians. (Unlike the US, today is actually the first day of fall here, but that's not why today is important). September 21 is the anniversary of Armenia's Independence and status as a republic (1991). Armenians are a little wary, however, because the celebration of days tied to their independence have been kind of hushed, and the government (?) has recently used these days to for celebrations completely unrelated to the republic/independence.
I wanted to share two important parts of my time here in the last two weeks:
I. The move from the "Recollection Room" to "Bittania" (I'm not really sure of the spelling on that one, but the English translation is "Bethany"
II. Becoming a Godmother
I. So I'm out of the upper room and into the village. This means I finally have separation from the work site (though I did like the recollection room). I live in a trailer in the village that the local government has allowed the MCs to use. Half of this trailer is occupied by a permanent Belgian volunteer, and the other half has become by little home- for now. I really like that I am finally in the village and among the people. I feel really strongly that I need to continue to learn Armenian and make an effort to talk and spend time with the people here as much as possible! The other thing about this trailer is that it is really living in poverty. It lacks a lot of commodities (I'm not sure this is the best word) that most people reading this would believe are absolutely necessary. I have to admit I am a little nervous about the cold in the coming winter- but so is everyone else who lives in the village year in and year out.
II. I've never been a godmother before. And if anyone asked me to imagine being a godmother, I would probably think of being a godmother in the Roman Catholic Church and of a baby, or child- or at least someone younger than me! Last week we had an Armenian Catholic service with 10 baptisms. Most were babies and children, but there was also one older woman who came to be baptised. While mass was beginning, the superior ran over to me and whispered "will you be a godmother?" It wasn't really a question. I didn't understand how I could be a godmother since I was baptised in a different rite and, furthermore, because I am going to leave Armenia at some point. She said, "oh it doesn't matter to them- they usually just find any Christian out on the street and pull them into the Church."
She told me to choose a godchild, which I felt particularly uncomfortable with...but I chose an older woman partly because I figured anyone choosing a godchild would have an easier time approaching a child or baby than an adult. In the Armenian rite they receive baptism, holy communion and confirmation all at the same time. So, she received her sacraments, became Catholic, and I thought I would never see this godchild of mine again.
Well turns out she teaches "sewing" to the children here. And, I hadn't really seen her around before because classes didn't start until the first week of September. She asked the Sisters two days after the baptism whether I could go to her house with two of the less severely handicapped children on the third day after the baptism. They told me this the night before I had to go. Then, the morning of, one of the Sisters mentioned that I might have to "wash" my godchild because the Armenians have a tradition of not bathing for three days because of the holy oil received in the sacrament of confirmation- and the godparent is supposed to bathe her godchild 3 days later.
I went over to my godchild's house with two of teenage girls from the Sisters' house. The first thing she did was show me pictures of her 22 and 24yr old sons who aren't at home right now. (Very strange to have a godchild with her own children- sons, no less- who are my age). A few of women from the village came, and we lit her baptismal candle as I washed her face, hands, head chest, and behind her neck three times. We then ate a kind of Armenian feast. The two girls who came with me acted as translators (which is really an amazing experience in itself). I spent several beautiful hours there. I can't even really describe how blessed this time was!
I realize more and more that I need to live in a disposition of openness and readiness to receive what God gives me. I never know what will come my way around here- each day really brings its own adventures in a more intense way than I've ever felt.
God is good and life is good.
I also climbed a mountain last week!
Thank you for your continued prayers and support and letters.
Love and prayers and peace!
I wanted to share two important parts of my time here in the last two weeks:
I. The move from the "Recollection Room" to "Bittania" (I'm not really sure of the spelling on that one, but the English translation is "Bethany"
II. Becoming a Godmother
I. So I'm out of the upper room and into the village. This means I finally have separation from the work site (though I did like the recollection room). I live in a trailer in the village that the local government has allowed the MCs to use. Half of this trailer is occupied by a permanent Belgian volunteer, and the other half has become by little home- for now. I really like that I am finally in the village and among the people. I feel really strongly that I need to continue to learn Armenian and make an effort to talk and spend time with the people here as much as possible! The other thing about this trailer is that it is really living in poverty. It lacks a lot of commodities (I'm not sure this is the best word) that most people reading this would believe are absolutely necessary. I have to admit I am a little nervous about the cold in the coming winter- but so is everyone else who lives in the village year in and year out.
II. I've never been a godmother before. And if anyone asked me to imagine being a godmother, I would probably think of being a godmother in the Roman Catholic Church and of a baby, or child- or at least someone younger than me! Last week we had an Armenian Catholic service with 10 baptisms. Most were babies and children, but there was also one older woman who came to be baptised. While mass was beginning, the superior ran over to me and whispered "will you be a godmother?" It wasn't really a question. I didn't understand how I could be a godmother since I was baptised in a different rite and, furthermore, because I am going to leave Armenia at some point. She said, "oh it doesn't matter to them- they usually just find any Christian out on the street and pull them into the Church."
She told me to choose a godchild, which I felt particularly uncomfortable with...but I chose an older woman partly because I figured anyone choosing a godchild would have an easier time approaching a child or baby than an adult. In the Armenian rite they receive baptism, holy communion and confirmation all at the same time. So, she received her sacraments, became Catholic, and I thought I would never see this godchild of mine again.
Well turns out she teaches "sewing" to the children here. And, I hadn't really seen her around before because classes didn't start until the first week of September. She asked the Sisters two days after the baptism whether I could go to her house with two of the less severely handicapped children on the third day after the baptism. They told me this the night before I had to go. Then, the morning of, one of the Sisters mentioned that I might have to "wash" my godchild because the Armenians have a tradition of not bathing for three days because of the holy oil received in the sacrament of confirmation- and the godparent is supposed to bathe her godchild 3 days later.
I went over to my godchild's house with two of teenage girls from the Sisters' house. The first thing she did was show me pictures of her 22 and 24yr old sons who aren't at home right now. (Very strange to have a godchild with her own children- sons, no less- who are my age). A few of women from the village came, and we lit her baptismal candle as I washed her face, hands, head chest, and behind her neck three times. We then ate a kind of Armenian feast. The two girls who came with me acted as translators (which is really an amazing experience in itself). I spent several beautiful hours there. I can't even really describe how blessed this time was!
I realize more and more that I need to live in a disposition of openness and readiness to receive what God gives me. I never know what will come my way around here- each day really brings its own adventures in a more intense way than I've ever felt.
God is good and life is good.
I also climbed a mountain last week!
Thank you for your continued prayers and support and letters.
Love and prayers and peace!
Friday, September 7, 2007
a quick ps
I have a cell phone here because it was actually the most economic way to go. It's free to receive calls- even international calls. So, if you feel so inclined, my number is: 011 374 94 745 955.
Four Sisters and a Land Rover
For some reason, I have failed to mention thus far that the Sisters have a Land Rover. It's ridiculous to see them drive around in this thing- and it's even more ridiculous to be in there, bumping all around in there with them. We also have a crazy driver who finds it offensive that I buckle my seat belt, and always sneaks to unbuckle it whenever I sit in the front seat.
Another note I've forgotten to make is that I hand wash my clothes with "BARF" detergent. I tried to convince myself that it was a joke the first time I noticed this very appropriate brand name. But it's not. Sometimes life makes a lot of sense.
But sometimes life makes little sense at all. And, in fact, I've had more moments of frustration- especially a kind of frustration-with-self- than ever before. I think it's a good thing- well, at least a good thing to experience and move through. We carve out a lot of time for prayer around here, and that time has been more exasperating and exhausting than rejuvenating so far. As I've mentioned a couple of times now, I really feel myself being torn apart at a very basic level- "at the seams"- and it is difficult and indescribable to say the least. This time of quiet has allowed me to peer into myself in a way that creates a lot of disquietude. But I believe it's been good.
On a totally unrelated note, I think my English is getting worse and my Armenian is not getting much better. I met a young Polish priest last night who told me I have no excuse for not knowing the language better considering that I've been here for almost two months. While he's right, I will shamelessly defend myself a little bit by saying that I'm kind of exhausted at my core- and while I try to wake up before 7 to study the language, it's been difficult. Also, I am not by any means flooded with Armenian. In one day last week I heard Latin, Armenian, Dutch, Lithuanian, English, Russian, Italian. I am not even kidding. This place is the most international place I've ever lived. I've thought a couple of times that while religion does seem one of (if not the) deepest cause of discord and unrest on earth, it can also provide a great source of unity. This place is so international because it brings together people from all over the world who have a similar mission that finds its root in the Church.
And, speaking of being international...Two weeks ago I had an indescribable hitchhiking experience with four Lithuanian women in their late twenties and early thirties. It's the kind of story that I'll tell you over dinner when we meet again sometime. Needless to say, I've had many unexpected adventures...and I have no reason to think that they'll run out any time soon.
I would like to reflect a little more on the specific details of my time here. I spend most of my days with the twenty young people who live in this "Home of Peace" (that's literally what it is called). Most of them are within three years of me, though a couple are in their mid-teen years and we'll have one lady who will turn 50 this winter. They have all different kinds of disabilities- retardation, Down Syndrome, psychological, physical. Some children do not have physical disabilities, but there are not any children without some kind of mental disability. It's been wonderful and difficult to be here. I really have to provide the energy and the creativity- it doesn't come naturally from the young people. They like to do the things they've done before, and they function really well within the structure here, which is really more of a home more than an orphanage. They will never leave here, and no other people will ever be admitted here. Because of this, there is a deep sense of community among the young people. It's pretty neat to see and to strive to enter.
I've also had a little more interaction with the community outside of the Home of Peace. The Sisters told me and two other volunteers last Monday at 9am that we would begin a three day summer camp for 30ish village children at Monday at 10am. The Sisters gave us pasta and a soccer ball for a 6 hour camp and sent us on our way. It was chaotic and I was really frustrated with the lack of prior notice, and I would hardly call that kind of semi-organized chaos a "summer camp." But, in the end, it was a really good experience and opened the door to a better contact with the villagers. These kids know me now. And they come to say hi whenever they see me walk through the village. In fact, they don't just say hi, they sing this ridiculous song about eating bananas that I learned at ND Vision last summer. The banana song follows me wherever I go- both inside and outside of the HOP (haha that acronym is great). Most kids can't really pronounce my name, but they have no problem shouting, "EAT BANANAS EAT EAT BANANAS." I'm also called "American girl" or "big American girl" on occasion, as I'm at least a head taller than every woman (and some men).
Anyway, I want to reiterate a thanks for prayers and letters and emails. It's wonderful to have your continued support. I miss you and love you all.
Another note I've forgotten to make is that I hand wash my clothes with "BARF" detergent. I tried to convince myself that it was a joke the first time I noticed this very appropriate brand name. But it's not. Sometimes life makes a lot of sense.
But sometimes life makes little sense at all. And, in fact, I've had more moments of frustration- especially a kind of frustration-with-self- than ever before. I think it's a good thing- well, at least a good thing to experience and move through. We carve out a lot of time for prayer around here, and that time has been more exasperating and exhausting than rejuvenating so far. As I've mentioned a couple of times now, I really feel myself being torn apart at a very basic level- "at the seams"- and it is difficult and indescribable to say the least. This time of quiet has allowed me to peer into myself in a way that creates a lot of disquietude. But I believe it's been good.
On a totally unrelated note, I think my English is getting worse and my Armenian is not getting much better. I met a young Polish priest last night who told me I have no excuse for not knowing the language better considering that I've been here for almost two months. While he's right, I will shamelessly defend myself a little bit by saying that I'm kind of exhausted at my core- and while I try to wake up before 7 to study the language, it's been difficult. Also, I am not by any means flooded with Armenian. In one day last week I heard Latin, Armenian, Dutch, Lithuanian, English, Russian, Italian. I am not even kidding. This place is the most international place I've ever lived. I've thought a couple of times that while religion does seem one of (if not the) deepest cause of discord and unrest on earth, it can also provide a great source of unity. This place is so international because it brings together people from all over the world who have a similar mission that finds its root in the Church.
And, speaking of being international...Two weeks ago I had an indescribable hitchhiking experience with four Lithuanian women in their late twenties and early thirties. It's the kind of story that I'll tell you over dinner when we meet again sometime. Needless to say, I've had many unexpected adventures...and I have no reason to think that they'll run out any time soon.
I would like to reflect a little more on the specific details of my time here. I spend most of my days with the twenty young people who live in this "Home of Peace" (that's literally what it is called). Most of them are within three years of me, though a couple are in their mid-teen years and we'll have one lady who will turn 50 this winter. They have all different kinds of disabilities- retardation, Down Syndrome, psychological, physical. Some children do not have physical disabilities, but there are not any children without some kind of mental disability. It's been wonderful and difficult to be here. I really have to provide the energy and the creativity- it doesn't come naturally from the young people. They like to do the things they've done before, and they function really well within the structure here, which is really more of a home more than an orphanage. They will never leave here, and no other people will ever be admitted here. Because of this, there is a deep sense of community among the young people. It's pretty neat to see and to strive to enter.
I've also had a little more interaction with the community outside of the Home of Peace. The Sisters told me and two other volunteers last Monday at 9am that we would begin a three day summer camp for 30ish village children at Monday at 10am. The Sisters gave us pasta and a soccer ball for a 6 hour camp and sent us on our way. It was chaotic and I was really frustrated with the lack of prior notice, and I would hardly call that kind of semi-organized chaos a "summer camp." But, in the end, it was a really good experience and opened the door to a better contact with the villagers. These kids know me now. And they come to say hi whenever they see me walk through the village. In fact, they don't just say hi, they sing this ridiculous song about eating bananas that I learned at ND Vision last summer. The banana song follows me wherever I go- both inside and outside of the HOP (haha that acronym is great). Most kids can't really pronounce my name, but they have no problem shouting, "EAT BANANAS EAT EAT BANANAS." I'm also called "American girl" or "big American girl" on occasion, as I'm at least a head taller than every woman (and some men).
Anyway, I want to reiterate a thanks for prayers and letters and emails. It's wonderful to have your continued support. I miss you and love you all.
Friday, August 17, 2007
a month wiser (...or more confused...but i think it's sort of the same thing)
I have been away from the computer for my two weeks in Spitak, so this is my first chance back. Thanks for your comments and emails (and LETTERS- letters are GREAT. If you've written me and I've gotten your letter, I just dropped one in the mail back at ya.) Thanks also for your suggestions with Down Syndrome and encouraging words and practical advice etc!
So much has been going on around me and inside me, and suffice it to say that this has been a really incredible and crucial time, but there is no way I am going to be able to put it into words (especially on a blog! which I still fell strange about having! oh well). I am going to break this up into pieces, as usual. I love you and miss you and am thinking so often of you all.
Some Good Laughs:
The Sisters in Yerevan had literally very few spices, some Indian ones, Paprika, etc...I hoped to find Oregano and Basil or something, but to no avail. They did have a jar full of something yellow and grainy. It was labeled "Mustard Seed." Go figure.
A white light glimmered on the mountains and reflected through the valley that is Spitak. It was around 8 or 9pm. A huge thunder and lightning storm just subsided. Sr. Anne Frieda looked out the kitchen window (which opens to the most beautiful view of a little village and a mountain) and turned to me and said, "You know, we used to say that this light is so pretty that all of the ugly people should go outside, because even they will look good."
Apparently to "go somewhere" for the Sisters and "children" here, (they are really young adults, more on that later), has a very specific meaning. The day before yesterday, the four Indian Sisters here, and a Belgian and Latvian volunteer and I went on a trip driving all around to Old Armenian Apostolic monasteries and to have a picnic by a lake. (It was the feast of the assumption, and these Sisters take their feast days very seriously. For any GK Chesterton readers: it's the Catholic fasting and feasting paradigm). The Sisters stopped at one place and when we were outside two asked me, "do you want to go somewhere?".."Sure", I said, "where? show me"...They were laughing and confused. They didn't really explain but it took a second for me to realize that "to go somewhere" for the sisters means to go to the "toilet" and that I had just asked the Sisters to help be to find somewhere to go (if you know what I mean) in the nearby wilderness.
One of the girls here, who often throws fits and gets really wound up/set off by a number of different things, was crying hysterically, as usual. Sr. Domini turned to me and said, "Well, I didn' t start crying when she called me fat."
Where Am I and What am I Doing
I have little time to write, but I started with the funny things because I wanted to give a sense of the glorious little moments here..and of my interaction with the Sisters. The Sisters are really great, and though they have their community and their privacy, I've been included in a number of things (including the aforementioned picnic) that have allowed me to get to know them in a way that makes daily interactions/working together much more rich.
Spitak is so utterly opposite from Yerevan. I am literally in a village. It's called "Italian Villiage" because these little houses (trailers) were put up by the Italians after the terrible earthquake that destroyed this place in the late 80s. The village has nothing more than a couple of small shops (the size of a small bedroom) with everthing from sausage to stuffed animals. I am currently writing this email from the so called city center, which is actually a bus ride away into another small town. The trailers in this town are one room- a stove, sink, and four or five beds are all in the same room. They have a bathroom with a toilet (that you have to flush by pouring water into) and a sink. Water works occassionally. Electricity is usually steady, but there have been a couple of black outs. We get our milk from a neighboring cow and we have chickens and grow potatoes and cabbage, which is standard for SPitak. No one has a job because the combination of communism and the earthquake destroyed any kind of industry/economy. People live off of their own little gardens and remain in the poverty they came into at birth. Everyone has a dream of leaving- and many young people especially are fascinated by Americans.
I have done an array of different things here. My main job is to play with and work with the 20 "children" (16-28, with the exception of two older ladies). There are wonderful mountains around so we've gone on a lot of walks (some can walk well, some limp, some are in wheelchairs) through the town and near/up mountains. There is a kind of primordial beauty here- with the scenery, the "children", the Sisters. I can't explain it. I want to write more abt the kids, but there's little time now.
My daily schedule looks something like this: 7am mass, 8am bfast with volunteers and the priest who lives here, 9-11 go on a walk, 11-3 clean, cook, rest, eat, Holy hour, 3-7 play with the kids, 7 evening prayer, 7:30 dinner. That said, there have been quite a few variations in the schedule including: distributing flour/pasta/sugar to poor families, visiting the poor, going to an old person's home, dropping some village children off at summer camp.
I've also been blessed with so many fascinating conversations. All the volunteers and the Sisters speak English (some better than others...and I'm totally embarrassed by the way everyone caters to English and the fact that I am the only person who does not speak at least 3 languages). I've learned a lot more abt the effect that communism had on people here- and the fear that still remains for some people.
The Recollection Room
I am not yet in the volunteer house (which really, is living in a trailer like the poor) because there are ten Belgian young people here to work on rebuiding houses throughout the village, and a couple of them are piled into the volunteer house. I am in a room in the attic upstairs that the SIsters call the "recollection room" (it says that on my key). It's a room where volunteers and sisters can escape to have some time in quiet reflection. It's been good for me to have that space, and some time to think and pray and recollect. I still have no idea vocationally on many levels what is going on- even in terms of plans for next year. I am being broken down each day. I feel myself changing and it hurts, but it is good. I am becoming less myself and more myself at the same time.
Be Poor
The other day in prayer I felt like one thing I am being asked is to "be poor." This has stuck with me and has been my recent mantra. When I heard these words in my head, I thought at first that they meant a kind of material poverty. And while it does in encompass this, I think I am being asked to empty myself in be poor in a more wholistic way. Be poor with words, be poor with my time, with trying to control every day things and the future. The poor may not know where they are going to sleep, what they are going to eat, or how they are going to live tomorrow. The same is true for us, but we think we can control everything. I need to abandon this desire and to really live in the present and in the gifts that I'm given daily and moment by moment.
Anyway, enough of this! I am doing well and am happy despite difficult moments, especially of missing community. But I do trust that this is where I'm supposed to be for a time- I obtained a year residency here. We'll see what happens.
Love and Prayers!
Address:
Genevieve Jordan
Missionaries of Charity
Italian Village
1805 Spitak
Armenia
(if you sent a letter to a different postal code, no worries, it came- but this is the new one)
So much has been going on around me and inside me, and suffice it to say that this has been a really incredible and crucial time, but there is no way I am going to be able to put it into words (especially on a blog! which I still fell strange about having! oh well). I am going to break this up into pieces, as usual. I love you and miss you and am thinking so often of you all.
Some Good Laughs:
The Sisters in Yerevan had literally very few spices, some Indian ones, Paprika, etc...I hoped to find Oregano and Basil or something, but to no avail. They did have a jar full of something yellow and grainy. It was labeled "Mustard Seed." Go figure.
A white light glimmered on the mountains and reflected through the valley that is Spitak. It was around 8 or 9pm. A huge thunder and lightning storm just subsided. Sr. Anne Frieda looked out the kitchen window (which opens to the most beautiful view of a little village and a mountain) and turned to me and said, "You know, we used to say that this light is so pretty that all of the ugly people should go outside, because even they will look good."
Apparently to "go somewhere" for the Sisters and "children" here, (they are really young adults, more on that later), has a very specific meaning. The day before yesterday, the four Indian Sisters here, and a Belgian and Latvian volunteer and I went on a trip driving all around to Old Armenian Apostolic monasteries and to have a picnic by a lake. (It was the feast of the assumption, and these Sisters take their feast days very seriously. For any GK Chesterton readers: it's the Catholic fasting and feasting paradigm). The Sisters stopped at one place and when we were outside two asked me, "do you want to go somewhere?".."Sure", I said, "where? show me"...They were laughing and confused. They didn't really explain but it took a second for me to realize that "to go somewhere" for the sisters means to go to the "toilet" and that I had just asked the Sisters to help be to find somewhere to go (if you know what I mean) in the nearby wilderness.
One of the girls here, who often throws fits and gets really wound up/set off by a number of different things, was crying hysterically, as usual. Sr. Domini turned to me and said, "Well, I didn' t start crying when she called me fat."
Where Am I and What am I Doing
I have little time to write, but I started with the funny things because I wanted to give a sense of the glorious little moments here..and of my interaction with the Sisters. The Sisters are really great, and though they have their community and their privacy, I've been included in a number of things (including the aforementioned picnic) that have allowed me to get to know them in a way that makes daily interactions/working together much more rich.
Spitak is so utterly opposite from Yerevan. I am literally in a village. It's called "Italian Villiage" because these little houses (trailers) were put up by the Italians after the terrible earthquake that destroyed this place in the late 80s. The village has nothing more than a couple of small shops (the size of a small bedroom) with everthing from sausage to stuffed animals. I am currently writing this email from the so called city center, which is actually a bus ride away into another small town. The trailers in this town are one room- a stove, sink, and four or five beds are all in the same room. They have a bathroom with a toilet (that you have to flush by pouring water into) and a sink. Water works occassionally. Electricity is usually steady, but there have been a couple of black outs. We get our milk from a neighboring cow and we have chickens and grow potatoes and cabbage, which is standard for SPitak. No one has a job because the combination of communism and the earthquake destroyed any kind of industry/economy. People live off of their own little gardens and remain in the poverty they came into at birth. Everyone has a dream of leaving- and many young people especially are fascinated by Americans.
I have done an array of different things here. My main job is to play with and work with the 20 "children" (16-28, with the exception of two older ladies). There are wonderful mountains around so we've gone on a lot of walks (some can walk well, some limp, some are in wheelchairs) through the town and near/up mountains. There is a kind of primordial beauty here- with the scenery, the "children", the Sisters. I can't explain it. I want to write more abt the kids, but there's little time now.
My daily schedule looks something like this: 7am mass, 8am bfast with volunteers and the priest who lives here, 9-11 go on a walk, 11-3 clean, cook, rest, eat, Holy hour, 3-7 play with the kids, 7 evening prayer, 7:30 dinner. That said, there have been quite a few variations in the schedule including: distributing flour/pasta/sugar to poor families, visiting the poor, going to an old person's home, dropping some village children off at summer camp.
I've also been blessed with so many fascinating conversations. All the volunteers and the Sisters speak English (some better than others...and I'm totally embarrassed by the way everyone caters to English and the fact that I am the only person who does not speak at least 3 languages). I've learned a lot more abt the effect that communism had on people here- and the fear that still remains for some people.
The Recollection Room
I am not yet in the volunteer house (which really, is living in a trailer like the poor) because there are ten Belgian young people here to work on rebuiding houses throughout the village, and a couple of them are piled into the volunteer house. I am in a room in the attic upstairs that the SIsters call the "recollection room" (it says that on my key). It's a room where volunteers and sisters can escape to have some time in quiet reflection. It's been good for me to have that space, and some time to think and pray and recollect. I still have no idea vocationally on many levels what is going on- even in terms of plans for next year. I am being broken down each day. I feel myself changing and it hurts, but it is good. I am becoming less myself and more myself at the same time.
Be Poor
The other day in prayer I felt like one thing I am being asked is to "be poor." This has stuck with me and has been my recent mantra. When I heard these words in my head, I thought at first that they meant a kind of material poverty. And while it does in encompass this, I think I am being asked to empty myself in be poor in a more wholistic way. Be poor with words, be poor with my time, with trying to control every day things and the future. The poor may not know where they are going to sleep, what they are going to eat, or how they are going to live tomorrow. The same is true for us, but we think we can control everything. I need to abandon this desire and to really live in the present and in the gifts that I'm given daily and moment by moment.
Anyway, enough of this! I am doing well and am happy despite difficult moments, especially of missing community. But I do trust that this is where I'm supposed to be for a time- I obtained a year residency here. We'll see what happens.
Love and Prayers!
Address:
Genevieve Jordan
Missionaries of Charity
Italian Village
1805 Spitak
Armenia
(if you sent a letter to a different postal code, no worries, it came- but this is the new one)
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
these Yerevan days
Thanks again for all of your emails and comments- it is so wonderful to hear from you.
I am currently at the American Embassy in Armenia, and am writing for what will probably be the last time for a little while. I leave the capital for Spitak on Friday.
I am doing well over all. I am going to write just a little bit under a couple of headings, as before.
Bread, bread, bread, BREAD!
What is food like in Armenia? Well, I'm not really sure exactly. The Sisters do not necessarily eat like your typical Armenians. A couple of Armenian foods we do eat often include this sour yogurt "matsoun" (I think) and BREAD ("hotz"). There were a couple of days when all I ate for breakfast and dinner was loads of bread. We often eat sliced tomatoes and bread or cheese and bread etc (basically everything + bread). I have never eaten so much bread in my life- it is very good, but, you know.
Armenians also seem European in taking tea/coffee after every meal. Some American volunteers donated chocolate chips and baking goods etc, and I made some good ol' chocolate chip cookies last night for the kids/sisters/workers/etc. Everyone calls them "biscuits". Some American also donated instant oatmeal, and one of the Sisters realized it was American and absolutely insists that I eat a packet for breakfast every morning (whether I want to or not). haha.
My Latest Challenge
So I hate to admit it, but for a couple of days, I was finding other work to do so as to avoid spending the day with the Down Syndrome kids. That sounds awful- I know it is, but regrettably, it's the truth. I can't explain how depressing their little play area is- they play there day after day after day. And the one worker just watches them, but can't really play with them. The thing about Down Syndrome kids is that they are naturally less social. They'll all go off and sit in their own corners alone. I tried to get them to play games etc with me for the first couple of days, but I grew kind of depressed and frustrated with the situation that I learned to avoid it.
For me, "Christ in His most distressing disguise," as Mother Teresa would say, is in the Down Syndrome kids. I realized my fault in avoiding them on Sunday, and decided on Sunday night that I would really try to spend the day with them on Monday. Well, I was humbled before I made this effort. Sr. Nelena pulled me aside early Monday morning and asked me to spend time with them; she didn't reprimand me as much as she pleaded for them. I was so frustrated with myself. I have made a greater effort since then, though I admit it is still very frustrating work. I long too much to see the fruits of my labor- and working with the Down Syndrome kids is difficult for me largely for that reason. I may not see any fruit, they may not respond, but they still really do need love like all persons and I am so selfish to avoid them because it doesn't leave me with any affirmation or sense of accomplishment!
Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks for everything- I love and miss you!
I am currently at the American Embassy in Armenia, and am writing for what will probably be the last time for a little while. I leave the capital for Spitak on Friday.
I am doing well over all. I am going to write just a little bit under a couple of headings, as before.
Bread, bread, bread, BREAD!
What is food like in Armenia? Well, I'm not really sure exactly. The Sisters do not necessarily eat like your typical Armenians. A couple of Armenian foods we do eat often include this sour yogurt "matsoun" (I think) and BREAD ("hotz"). There were a couple of days when all I ate for breakfast and dinner was loads of bread. We often eat sliced tomatoes and bread or cheese and bread etc (basically everything + bread). I have never eaten so much bread in my life- it is very good, but, you know.
Armenians also seem European in taking tea/coffee after every meal. Some American volunteers donated chocolate chips and baking goods etc, and I made some good ol' chocolate chip cookies last night for the kids/sisters/workers/etc. Everyone calls them "biscuits". Some American also donated instant oatmeal, and one of the Sisters realized it was American and absolutely insists that I eat a packet for breakfast every morning (whether I want to or not). haha.
My Latest Challenge
So I hate to admit it, but for a couple of days, I was finding other work to do so as to avoid spending the day with the Down Syndrome kids. That sounds awful- I know it is, but regrettably, it's the truth. I can't explain how depressing their little play area is- they play there day after day after day. And the one worker just watches them, but can't really play with them. The thing about Down Syndrome kids is that they are naturally less social. They'll all go off and sit in their own corners alone. I tried to get them to play games etc with me for the first couple of days, but I grew kind of depressed and frustrated with the situation that I learned to avoid it.
For me, "Christ in His most distressing disguise," as Mother Teresa would say, is in the Down Syndrome kids. I realized my fault in avoiding them on Sunday, and decided on Sunday night that I would really try to spend the day with them on Monday. Well, I was humbled before I made this effort. Sr. Nelena pulled me aside early Monday morning and asked me to spend time with them; she didn't reprimand me as much as she pleaded for them. I was so frustrated with myself. I have made a greater effort since then, though I admit it is still very frustrating work. I long too much to see the fruits of my labor- and working with the Down Syndrome kids is difficult for me largely for that reason. I may not see any fruit, they may not respond, but they still really do need love like all persons and I am so selfish to avoid them because it doesn't leave me with any affirmation or sense of accomplishment!
Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks for everything- I love and miss you!
Friday, July 27, 2007
"Genevieve": not so easy for Armenians or Indian Sisters or children to pronounce
Most importantly: Thank you for your prayers and encouraging emails and comments. Although I cannot always respond, please know it means so much to hear from you- and it really helps.
My blog yesterday was terribly scattered and rushed- and fortunately, today is my day off, and an American family picked me up and took me to their home, so I am able to use the internet again!
I am going to break this up into a couple of headings, because if you're anything like me, you might have trouble making it through a long, drawn-out blog.
DONATIONS
In order to purify the water that we drink, we take some water from the faucet, boil it, and then keep it in a (clean) trash bin in the kitchen. We scoop water from the bin whenever we want to drink it. In Yerevan, the dirty water pipe runs next to the clean water pipe, and sometimes the water from one pipe contaminates the other. We are still trying to convince the Sisters of the necessity of a purifier. (We being the American family who helps out here). If you would like to donate money to get the purifier (we're thinking of getting 2- one for the kitchen sink and one for a sink upstairs) please email me as soom as you can. Each purifier runs somewhere around $200. The Sisters might not go for it, but we need to somehow get the message across that boiling the water and letting it sit stagnant for a couple days is not really, err, effective.
"IT'S COMMUNIST"
So Armenia was part of the USSR, and gained its independence in the early 90s (I think that's right). Everyone here speaks Armenian and Russian- and there are remnants of communism throughout Yerevan. We went to a park (which seemed more like a fair) with some of the children last week. One of the rides was decorated with what I am pretty sure was a soviet flag. And, the side of the train that took the children for rides was stamped with a "USSR" (in Armenian). Sr. Jose Ann (an Older INdian Sister) has told me on several occassions that different features of the house are communist. In the bathrooms, the cabinet above the sink folds into the wall so that you cannot see it. When I tried to figure out how to turn off the light in this weird cabinet Sr. Jose Ann goes, "COMMUNIST. It's COMMUNIST". She said the same thing abt a switch in a cabinet outdoor that seemed to have no purpose.
ARMENIAN LITURGY
Every chapel that the Sisters have throughout the world has big bold letters, "I THIRST" next to the crucifix. The Sisters have mass in this little chapel every day. An Armenian priest comes and does liturgy in the Catholic Armenian rite a couple of days a week. The mass is in Ancient Armenian- and the words and the order of liturgy are very different from our standard Latin rite. The priest has his back turned towards us, and wears a very ornate costume. Yesterday after mass, Sr. Rosana Maria (Polish) told me that when she first saw the priest's costume (I realize that is not the right word) she thought he was going to fly away, and proceeded to ask him if his dress was for flying. The priest told her that the heavy collar and big cape is to represent the lost sheep that Jesus carries on his back.
Armenia is a Christian country, but very few Armenians are Catholic. THere is one priest who comes during the week who has special permission to say mass in the Armenian and Latin rite. Crossing over and beign able to preside for both types of liturgy is very unusual and there was some friction in this particular priest's attempt to do so. Sr. Rosana Maria reflected the interior divisiveness within the Church and the isolation of the few priests in this country from each other because they celebrate the different rites.
(Thank you so much to Brett Perkins, who helped me familiarize myself with the Eastern Liturgy before I got here- it was really nice to have some sense of the differences in the mass!)
WATER FRISBEE
That's right. So there is a "pool" in the back of this house. It looks like a giant bathtub and is about 10ft by 7ft and maybe 7ft deep. Until two days ago, it was waterless, and now it is filled abt a foot. Imagining a giant bathtub is really the best way to understand this thing- it has a faucet (though it would take days to fill) and a plug/drain. The Sisters thought the faucet was broken, so Sr. Faustina Mercy (African) and I worked on connecting a hose to a little sink upstairs, and trying to fill the pool that way. The problem is that the hose does not have any kind of metal connector piece etc., so we cut off the top of a water bottle and used some cloth and forced it to connect to the sink. I would say abt 70% of the already small trickle of water made it into the hose and down to the pool. I can't explain how hilarious or difficult or ridiculous it was to try to attach this hose- and then watch it drip into the pool. By yesterday it filled upto about a foot and my project for the afternoon was to take kids "swimming". I spent time with some of the Down Syndrome kids, and then the older group of disabled kids: IT WAS FANTASTIC. I had a blast (and so did they). We figured out how to turn on the faucet in the pool abt halfway through our swimming (figures) so the water continues to fill up. I think it would be really awesome and very possible to teach some of the kids who cannot use their legs how to swim!
I would like to extend a special thank you to Adam Frisch for the frisbee- because though the kids are not necessarily coordinated enough to throw it, they loved filling it with water and playing with it. Little Ignace kept saying "your friend gave this to you?...this is a picture of your friend?" It was great.
Ok, that is enough for now. I apologize for the rambling and emotional blog I put up yesterday. It was honest. Yesterday was a better day and today is a nice break. I am looking forward to going to learning Armenian, talking more with the Sisters, reading stories to the older kids, and adventuring onto Spitak in a couple of days.
Thanks again for your prayers and your emails and words etc. You guys are awesome and are such a rock for me!
My blog yesterday was terribly scattered and rushed- and fortunately, today is my day off, and an American family picked me up and took me to their home, so I am able to use the internet again!
I am going to break this up into a couple of headings, because if you're anything like me, you might have trouble making it through a long, drawn-out blog.
DONATIONS
In order to purify the water that we drink, we take some water from the faucet, boil it, and then keep it in a (clean) trash bin in the kitchen. We scoop water from the bin whenever we want to drink it. In Yerevan, the dirty water pipe runs next to the clean water pipe, and sometimes the water from one pipe contaminates the other. We are still trying to convince the Sisters of the necessity of a purifier. (We being the American family who helps out here). If you would like to donate money to get the purifier (we're thinking of getting 2- one for the kitchen sink and one for a sink upstairs) please email me as soom as you can. Each purifier runs somewhere around $200. The Sisters might not go for it, but we need to somehow get the message across that boiling the water and letting it sit stagnant for a couple days is not really, err, effective.
"IT'S COMMUNIST"
So Armenia was part of the USSR, and gained its independence in the early 90s (I think that's right). Everyone here speaks Armenian and Russian- and there are remnants of communism throughout Yerevan. We went to a park (which seemed more like a fair) with some of the children last week. One of the rides was decorated with what I am pretty sure was a soviet flag. And, the side of the train that took the children for rides was stamped with a "USSR" (in Armenian). Sr. Jose Ann (an Older INdian Sister) has told me on several occassions that different features of the house are communist. In the bathrooms, the cabinet above the sink folds into the wall so that you cannot see it. When I tried to figure out how to turn off the light in this weird cabinet Sr. Jose Ann goes, "COMMUNIST. It's COMMUNIST". She said the same thing abt a switch in a cabinet outdoor that seemed to have no purpose.
ARMENIAN LITURGY
Every chapel that the Sisters have throughout the world has big bold letters, "I THIRST" next to the crucifix. The Sisters have mass in this little chapel every day. An Armenian priest comes and does liturgy in the Catholic Armenian rite a couple of days a week. The mass is in Ancient Armenian- and the words and the order of liturgy are very different from our standard Latin rite. The priest has his back turned towards us, and wears a very ornate costume. Yesterday after mass, Sr. Rosana Maria (Polish) told me that when she first saw the priest's costume (I realize that is not the right word) she thought he was going to fly away, and proceeded to ask him if his dress was for flying. The priest told her that the heavy collar and big cape is to represent the lost sheep that Jesus carries on his back.
Armenia is a Christian country, but very few Armenians are Catholic. THere is one priest who comes during the week who has special permission to say mass in the Armenian and Latin rite. Crossing over and beign able to preside for both types of liturgy is very unusual and there was some friction in this particular priest's attempt to do so. Sr. Rosana Maria reflected the interior divisiveness within the Church and the isolation of the few priests in this country from each other because they celebrate the different rites.
(Thank you so much to Brett Perkins, who helped me familiarize myself with the Eastern Liturgy before I got here- it was really nice to have some sense of the differences in the mass!)
WATER FRISBEE
That's right. So there is a "pool" in the back of this house. It looks like a giant bathtub and is about 10ft by 7ft and maybe 7ft deep. Until two days ago, it was waterless, and now it is filled abt a foot. Imagining a giant bathtub is really the best way to understand this thing- it has a faucet (though it would take days to fill) and a plug/drain. The Sisters thought the faucet was broken, so Sr. Faustina Mercy (African) and I worked on connecting a hose to a little sink upstairs, and trying to fill the pool that way. The problem is that the hose does not have any kind of metal connector piece etc., so we cut off the top of a water bottle and used some cloth and forced it to connect to the sink. I would say abt 70% of the already small trickle of water made it into the hose and down to the pool. I can't explain how hilarious or difficult or ridiculous it was to try to attach this hose- and then watch it drip into the pool. By yesterday it filled upto about a foot and my project for the afternoon was to take kids "swimming". I spent time with some of the Down Syndrome kids, and then the older group of disabled kids: IT WAS FANTASTIC. I had a blast (and so did they). We figured out how to turn on the faucet in the pool abt halfway through our swimming (figures) so the water continues to fill up. I think it would be really awesome and very possible to teach some of the kids who cannot use their legs how to swim!
I would like to extend a special thank you to Adam Frisch for the frisbee- because though the kids are not necessarily coordinated enough to throw it, they loved filling it with water and playing with it. Little Ignace kept saying "your friend gave this to you?...this is a picture of your friend?" It was great.
Ok, that is enough for now. I apologize for the rambling and emotional blog I put up yesterday. It was honest. Yesterday was a better day and today is a nice break. I am looking forward to going to learning Armenian, talking more with the Sisters, reading stories to the older kids, and adventuring onto Spitak in a couple of days.
Thanks again for your prayers and your emails and words etc. You guys are awesome and are such a rock for me!
Adoption & as much as I can write
I am not sure how much time I have here and my excuse to come to an internet cafe was to email my American friends about adoption. If you know anyone who is able and interested in adoption, please let me know. The kids who need adopting the most are ages 3-5 and are physically, but not mentally disabled. The two eldest speak English well, and the younger three have broken English. (The children speak English like the Indian Sisters). The Sisters have an American agent, so you don't need to worry about that. These kids are really sweet and they need families- even if they are families outside of their country.
I am not sure how often I will be able to get to a computer, but please keep my in your thoughts and prayers and know I am thinking of you very often. I apologize for bad grammar, typos, or rambling thoughts- but i dont have much time so i'm just going to go:
Life is difficult here. I am not yet in my final destination. Two Sisters picked my up from the airport in Yerevan in the middle of the night, and told me I would remain in the capital, Yerevan , until Aug 1st (or maybe 3rd, their English is so heavily accented that I never really know). I am currently living on site. We live in what I think is an old home. Live-in workers (armenian women) sleep in the attic. On the second floor, they have maybe 15 really sick babies, and 5 Down Syndrome children. I sleep on the first floor, as do 5 children with physical disabilities. There are 5 Sisters here now (3 Indian, 1 from Africa, 1 from Poland) and the Irish superior is visiting here home and will not be here until late August.
My days have been crazy and exhausting. I've done all kinds of things, which I will list for lack of time: *feed/wash etc the down syndrome kids *play with the other children * clean *cook *wash clothes by hand *go buy food *I went to the hosptial one day- and it was in terrible condition. * feed the babies
I guess after writing that out, it doesnt seem like I do very much, but somehow I am exhausted. My days are from 7am until 11ish- and it's go go go go. I have spent time in mass and Adoration, except that yesterday, for example, a worker didnt show up so I didnt even get any time to pray.
A couple of the workers here speak English, but it is usually me and a bunch of Armenian ladies. I am really isolated in my own thoughts all day long. Armenian is difficult. Some of the letters of the alphabet require me to make sounds I didnt even know were possible.
There is an American family here who volunteer on Sundays, and it was nice to see them last week. There are also two girls- 20 and 22- who have come and volunteered. They took me out to find an atm to get money to use the internet one night, though we came back late and I'm not sure the sisters will let that fly again.
It is difficult to work with the children. It's fun to spend time with the two eldest who speak English, but the others (especially the Down Syndrome kids) do not respond to me. I think what makes this work most exhausting is that communicating takes so much effort.
All that said, I know it is good that I am here. I need to rely only on Christ for comfort, which is so difficult! I want to be in contact with all of you all the time! It is so hard to have no community, and no friends. I need to really give myself over more fully, and stop thinking of my frustration or loneliness or exhaustion. I feel like I am really being broken down so I can be rebuilt. THe oldest Indian Sister (whom is really great) told me the other day in reference to my inability to speak Armenian, "it's like you're disabled"- that's really helped, because it's made me realize that this difficulty can be embraced like a kind of solidarity with these children who are unable to express what they want/can't walk/etc. THe lack of communication and access to phone and internet are disabling, in some, small way.
I wanted to include a couple of funny things, that I have laughed at (or wondered abt) alone:
The baby bibs upstairs that say, "spit happens"...1. where did those come from? 2. am i the first person to laugh at these?
St. Faustina Mercy (soft spoken, young African Sister) to 3yr old Sara, "WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP"...it was just, i dont know, really funny in that moment, and she didnt quite understand why i was laughing
The shirt of the worker that has a picture of what looks like a radio and reads, "this machine kills facists"...she speaks no English. Where did she get that shirt and does she know what it says?
Ok, I have to run. I realize I have said very little abt armenia itself. It is a poor country. It reminds me of a European Mexico (and I've only been to the poorer areas of Mexico). The driving here is nuts and I ride in the car to take the children to school- we pile 4 kids without carseats or seatbelts into the back and 2 adults sit with them. It's crazy.
Please pray for me and know I am thinking of you.
I am not sure how often I will be able to get to a computer, but please keep my in your thoughts and prayers and know I am thinking of you very often. I apologize for bad grammar, typos, or rambling thoughts- but i dont have much time so i'm just going to go:
Life is difficult here. I am not yet in my final destination. Two Sisters picked my up from the airport in Yerevan in the middle of the night, and told me I would remain in the capital, Yerevan , until Aug 1st (or maybe 3rd, their English is so heavily accented that I never really know). I am currently living on site. We live in what I think is an old home. Live-in workers (armenian women) sleep in the attic. On the second floor, they have maybe 15 really sick babies, and 5 Down Syndrome children. I sleep on the first floor, as do 5 children with physical disabilities. There are 5 Sisters here now (3 Indian, 1 from Africa, 1 from Poland) and the Irish superior is visiting here home and will not be here until late August.
My days have been crazy and exhausting. I've done all kinds of things, which I will list for lack of time: *feed/wash etc the down syndrome kids *play with the other children * clean *cook *wash clothes by hand *go buy food *I went to the hosptial one day- and it was in terrible condition. * feed the babies
I guess after writing that out, it doesnt seem like I do very much, but somehow I am exhausted. My days are from 7am until 11ish- and it's go go go go. I have spent time in mass and Adoration, except that yesterday, for example, a worker didnt show up so I didnt even get any time to pray.
A couple of the workers here speak English, but it is usually me and a bunch of Armenian ladies. I am really isolated in my own thoughts all day long. Armenian is difficult. Some of the letters of the alphabet require me to make sounds I didnt even know were possible.
There is an American family here who volunteer on Sundays, and it was nice to see them last week. There are also two girls- 20 and 22- who have come and volunteered. They took me out to find an atm to get money to use the internet one night, though we came back late and I'm not sure the sisters will let that fly again.
It is difficult to work with the children. It's fun to spend time with the two eldest who speak English, but the others (especially the Down Syndrome kids) do not respond to me. I think what makes this work most exhausting is that communicating takes so much effort.
All that said, I know it is good that I am here. I need to rely only on Christ for comfort, which is so difficult! I want to be in contact with all of you all the time! It is so hard to have no community, and no friends. I need to really give myself over more fully, and stop thinking of my frustration or loneliness or exhaustion. I feel like I am really being broken down so I can be rebuilt. THe oldest Indian Sister (whom is really great) told me the other day in reference to my inability to speak Armenian, "it's like you're disabled"- that's really helped, because it's made me realize that this difficulty can be embraced like a kind of solidarity with these children who are unable to express what they want/can't walk/etc. THe lack of communication and access to phone and internet are disabling, in some, small way.
I wanted to include a couple of funny things, that I have laughed at (or wondered abt) alone:
The baby bibs upstairs that say, "spit happens"...1. where did those come from? 2. am i the first person to laugh at these?
St. Faustina Mercy (soft spoken, young African Sister) to 3yr old Sara, "WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP"...it was just, i dont know, really funny in that moment, and she didnt quite understand why i was laughing
The shirt of the worker that has a picture of what looks like a radio and reads, "this machine kills facists"...she speaks no English. Where did she get that shirt and does she know what it says?
Ok, I have to run. I realize I have said very little abt armenia itself. It is a poor country. It reminds me of a European Mexico (and I've only been to the poorer areas of Mexico). The driving here is nuts and I ride in the car to take the children to school- we pile 4 kids without carseats or seatbelts into the back and 2 adults sit with them. It's crazy.
Please pray for me and know I am thinking of you.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
a preface
If you've gotten this far, you are likely well aware that I am setting off for an Armenian Adventure. I am headed to Spitak, Armenia to live in poverty and serve the poorest of the poor with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity. Their main apostolate in Spitak is an orphanage for abandoned children, many of whom have some kind of disability.
This blog is an attempt to stay connected without thrusting long-winded mass emails upon you. I am not exactly sure how often I will be able to write, or how long I will be there, or what exactly I will be doing.
The only shred of certainty I've had about anything concerning this experience thus far is the deep peace I felt a couple of weeks ago after I got off the phone with one of the Sisters. It assured me that even though going to Armenia makes little sense in my head, it is the right thing- at least for July 19th.
If you are reading this I can pretty much guarantee that you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I miss you very much. I would love to hear from you.
And I'll see you in the Eucharist.
This blog is an attempt to stay connected without thrusting long-winded mass emails upon you. I am not exactly sure how often I will be able to write, or how long I will be there, or what exactly I will be doing.
The only shred of certainty I've had about anything concerning this experience thus far is the deep peace I felt a couple of weeks ago after I got off the phone with one of the Sisters. It assured me that even though going to Armenia makes little sense in my head, it is the right thing- at least for July 19th.
If you are reading this I can pretty much guarantee that you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I miss you very much. I would love to hear from you.
And I'll see you in the Eucharist.
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