Some of you may recall that I (Michelle) was able to travel with twenty students for almost three weeks last May through a Nicaragua Immersion as part of my job at U.P.’s Moreau Center for Service & Leadership. This year, I’m excited to be able to travel with another twenty students on a Spring Break service-learning trip called the Border Plunge. The long and short of it is a one week trip to Nogales, Arizona with BorderLinks where we will examine immigration issues from all sides of the spectrum. We’ll meet with lawyers, law enforcement, migrant workers, Border Patrol, non-profits… you name it… to really understand the complexities at work with immigration in our country. In preparation for the trip, the students have met almost weekly since November, planned and participated in numerous fundraisers, and have already started engaging in the subject through media and discussion. Here are a few resources we’ve watched that I found really interesting:

Minuteman Frank George, whose goal is to stop illegal immigration into the United States, goes to live with a family of illegal Mexican immigrants in a tiny apartment in the heart of Los Angeles.

http://abc.go.com/watch/what-would-you-do/SH5555951/VD55110104/what-would-you-do-24

What Would You Do? stages racial profiling in an Arizona fast food restaurant. Hidden cameras reveal customers’ reactions.

An excerpt from By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho:

You have to take risks, he said. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen…

Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a conquest. Our magic moment helps us to change and sends us off in search of our dreams. Yes, we are going to suffer, we will have difficult times, and we will experience many disappointments- but all of this is transitory; it leaves no permanent mark. And one day we will look back with pride and faith at the journey we have taken.

Pitiful is the person who is afraid of taking risks. Perhaps this person will never be disappointed or disillusioned; perhaps she won’t suffer the way people do when they have a dream to follow. But when that person looks back- and at some point everyone looks back- she will hear her heart saying, “What have you done with the miracles that God planted in your days? What have you done with the talents God bestowed on you? You buried yourself in a cave because you were fearful of losing those talents. So this is your heritage: the certainty that you wasted your life.”

Pitiful are the people who must realize this. Because when they are finally able to believe in miracles, their life’s magic moments will have already passed them by.

This monologue really stood out to me. Jedd and I were reflecting recently on a conversation we had over a year ago that was really the turning point in our decision to spend a significant amount of time living abroad. I had come to the realization that someday I would look back with regret if our lives were to continue down the same path we were headed and we didn’t take the opportunity to try something different while we had the chance. When I think about our decision to take a “sabbatical,” this monologue resonates with me.

On the other hand, it also feels very convicting. There are so many other ways I avoid risk, and I’m not always satisfied with the way I’m stewarding the time and talents God has given me. Anyway, I just wanted to share this excerpt for reflection and motivation.

With my 28th birthday around the corner, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my age and the concept of aging in general. I think it’s important to remember how young we are. I mean “we,” not just including my own generation, but really anyone under the age of 75 (this is a somewhat arbitrary number but I have decided this is the point at which I will allow myself to use the term “old age”). I’ll never be this young again, as I am right now. This is the skin, these are the eyes and the joints that I’ll wish I could have again when I’m reminiscing some time in the future. I must not take for granted the youth I have left in me and be thankful for each moment of Age as it passes. So often I hear my peers say “I’m so old” and it seems sad, like they’ve already given up. If you think you’re old now, what will you be tomorrow and the many years you have left to live ahead?

In contrast to remembering how young we are, it’s also important not to fool ourselves. We don’t have to fit a prescribed category just because we’re a certain age, and we shouldn’t pretend we’re something we’re not. The prevalence of bleached hair, plastic surgery, and misplaced fashion that Jedd has seen on older women during his recent trip through Southern California brings this point to light. Aging is a scary thing because it reminds us of the reality that our bodies don’t last forever. But instead of embracing and coming to terms with this truth, we spend a heck of a lot of time, money, and effort trying to hide it. Unfortunately, we live in a culture where the value of Age has been forgotten, but there are other cultures in our world where elders are revered for their wisdom and are given a place of honor in society. I bet people in those cultures aren’t quite as scared to grow old.

I think sometimes I have a skewed view of my age because though I graduated from college over five years ago, I never left the college campus and I work with 20-year-olds every day. It wasn’t until last year when all the students’ birthdays were in the 90’s that I realized I really was a generation apart. Compared to my peers who may have spent the last five years in a corporate office or raising a family, I feel I must consider myself to be younger than they do. This is not necessarily a bad thing. However, it can create a gap between myself and people my own “age.”

I like to conjecture what my year ahead will be like. Somehow I knew that my 25th year would be really good, and I ended up getting married that year! Looking at my journal entries from one year ago, I thought year 27 would be a challenge and growth year, and now I can say that this prediction was pretty accurate as well. I had to face up to some things in myself that were ugly and shameful and throughout the year I had to be vulnerable and work through challenges at work, with some friends,  even strangers, and my family. I even went through a time this year where I was really being humbled about what I want to achieve in this world. All in all, I’d say I learned a lot this year. I think I grew up a bit, too. Another thing I talked about on my last birthday was my life’s “trajectory” and whether it would veer toward normalcy/mediocrity (one of my biggest fears). It’s nice to know that one year later, Jedd and I have taken some gutsy steps to do something out of the ordinary with our life. But we can’t talk much about that here… So to conclude, I think that this year will be a memorable year, with a lot going on that will keep us on our toes!

For the last several months, I (Michelle) have had the opportunity to hang out with a refugee family from Congo who arrived in Portland one year ago. In just the short time that I’ve known them, mostly through teaching English to the mother, they’ve opened my eyes to a new way of seeing the world. Here’s a few things I’ve learned along the way…

Mom is a sweet, determined widow in her mid-50’s who has birthed who-knows-how-many children. Seven have come with her to Portland (no, make that eight! Since I drafted this post, an older daughter flew in who recently delivered a baby). They are ages 14 to 24, and a few others are scattered around the world with the families they’ve started. Never having been to school a day in her life and with no background in English, the mom now hops on the public bus by herself and attends English classes at the Community College and the Immigrant and Refugee Community Organization, sometimes out of the house from noon until 9pm, just to soak in all the English lessons she can. When I first met her, she had already learned the alphabet but had no clue how to fill out a worksheet. She had taken down as many notes as she could from her classes but had no idea what the words on the pages meant. The thing about ESL classes here is that they assume that you have literacy in your own language and know what to do in a classroom. I’ve definitely learned a lot about non-verbal communication as I’ve spent even more time and effort in my lesson planning simply determining creative ways to communicate the method or objective of a particular activity than I have spent on the content of the lesson itself.

I’ve learned that refugee assistance in our country lasts for 8 months. English classes, housing, bus passes, employment training, etc. is all taken care of for that period, but afterward, the family is expected to find jobs and take care of themselves. I happened to meet my family as they headed into their eighth month in the U.S.  They were exceptionally motivated, were persistent in studying English, and had done everything asked of them. Still, even the older kids hadn’t completely mastered our language and they lacked job experience with American companies. Once the 8 months expired, they no longer had a means of transportation, putting them at a distinct disadvantage in the search for jobs while their financial assistance for monthly rent was simultaneously disappearing. How do you support 8 teens and adults without any full-time employment in the household? Even the Refugee Community Organization’s program, which also provides job search and transportation assistance, is limited. Because the oldest kids already completed all levels of the program and graduated, they can no longer get benefits that come along with attending classes there, so their 52 year-old mother had to go through the program, pretending to be job searching, just so the rest of the family could have at least one bus pass to share.

Eventually, three of the kids found part-time jobs and the family is able to get some minimal rent and food assistance from the state. That is to say, they’ve somehow (almost miraculously) managed to move themselves forward but they’re definitely not on solid ground yet. They hold family meetings to make decisions together, as they tell me they used to do back in the Congo. They function as a unit, taking care of each other, and though there are still many needs unmet in their household, they are some of the most gracious and sweet people you will ever meet.

I find myself thinking about this family all the time. I think about how much they have been through and how much they have overcome. I wonder a lot about my place in their lives. I know my role is not to step in and fix everything or to “be the savior” but rather to be a friend and to find ways to empower them. Technically, my only real job is to tutor the mother in English. Our progress is slow, but at least she is gaining confidence. And we’re both gaining a deep appreciation for each other. I think I really just wanted an excuse to become friends with a refugee family, and that’s exactly what’s happened. I feel so blessed to be welcomed into their home- it’s definitely a highlight of my week!