In the Midst of Changing Seasons

Over the last few months, I’ve been learning the ways in which God is always changing the seasons of our lives. The swift changes that have recently passed through my own life have challenged me and I am coming to recognize the distinct ways in which my life has indeed changed - sometimes gradually and slowly, sometimes very distinct. In the same way God is directing the Earth to move on from the sunny long days of summer to the shorter days of fall, He’s moving my life through its own seasons of dryness, seasons of warmth, seasons of heavy downpour, seasons of brightness and so on. And just as the Earth bears witness to in its own cyclical seasons, each season of our lives presents its own challenges and graces.

This spring I welcomed a new season. As I prepared to graduate, I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude for what the last four years brought to me - lifelong friendships, experiences and a journey that I would never forget. Everything that I had built up and worked toward was coming to an end but I was at such peace with it. I reflected on my personal growth in those years and I was so proud of who I was becoming. I had finally made a decision for my post-graduate plans and accepted a position with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (JVC). I felt ready for the adventure that was to come. It was by far the greatest season of celebration in my life yet and I was filled with the type of extreme happiness and slight sadness that comes with a bittersweet ending.

          

                             celebrating on graduation day                                         last sunset on the bluff                                          up inspired graduation cap

Then spring turned into summer and my life was changing too. Graduation came and went too quickly and the celebration was over. I left Los Angeles to go home to Orange County for the summer before my big move to Alabama. From the outside, my summer could have looked perfect. I really had some incredible adventures and memories but I was essentially hiding beneath all of it - trying to fill a void deep within me. The truth is that one of the happiest seasons of my life, without warning, had turned into a season of darkness. The good days of my summer became overwhelmed with intense feelings of pain and emptiness.

snapshots of my summer

                       the view of oahu from the clouds                               lewis and i at disney iorld!                                           picnics on the beach

May marked the anniversary of my Lupus diagnosis and for the last two years I have lived through a multitude of highs and lows. A flare is a period where most illness symptoms are intensely present at the same time and can be sudden or gradual, lasting varying amounts of time and this summer I experienced the worst flare, the lowest low, that I have ever been through, lasting almost three months.This flare came out of nowhere after feeling fatigued for a few months before graduation and just like that, I was suddenly bedridden. It was almost like the weight and stress of the last four years had crashed down onto me.

I spent the summer really struggling. This was pain I had never felt before and I have trouble putting into words how I felt. Some days I could barely walk or lift myself out of bed. Some days, I couldn't drive my car. I remember countless days starting and ending with tears - of not only pain but also frustration. I ended up having to take several days off of my summer job, cut down on my hours and give up exercise completely. My doctor put me on chemotherapy hoping for some relief, but it brought its own challenges of stomach pain and constant fatigue. I would sleep for hours and still struggle to keep my eyes open. I think the worst part about it all was the loneliness that came with it. I felt completely isolated from my own life, almost as though I was unable to live it. I’ve always tried to overcome the trials of living with chronic illness with grace and positivity but I felt completely defeated. I feared having to drop out of JVC and felt anxious and depressed about everything. There was a constant voice inside my head telling me, “you won’t overcome this”.

In these personal moments of desolation, I realized that despite my own feelings of hopelessness, I needed to find the moments of inspiration and hope in the quiet everyday life unfolding right before me - standing next to two good friends as they vow to love each other for the rest of their lives, breakfast in bed, skipping rocks in the Colorado river, summer fruit, the cool breeze of a California summer, time with family - the joyful moments.

joyful moments

 praying for my friend emily before her big day                         peaceful nights                                                            ocean hammock views

Once I focused on seeking God in the light of each day, no matter how few or far between it may have been, I started to see Him within the darkness too. The struggle I faced often felt overpowering and at times it was all I could set my mind on. But when I took a step back and looked beyond the hurting and the pain, I started to see gratitude for the beauty my life really is. I wasn’t simply stuck in a undefeatable situation - I was alive. I had to slowly pull through the downpour to be able to move beyond it, to see a rainbow in the midst of the clouds in a stormy season, and to keep living the beautiful life that was always right there waiting for me. I discovered God was there with me, walking right along my side and cheering me on.

One of my absolute favorite quotes from Shauna Niequist spoke loudly to me during that season,

“Celebration when your plan is working? Anyone can do that. But when you realize that the story of your life could be told a thousand different ways, that you could tell it over and over as a tragedy, but you choose to call it an epic, that's when you start to learn what celebration is. When what you see in front of you is so far outside of what you dreamed, but you have the belief, the boldness, the courage to call it beautiful instead of calling it wrong, that's celebration.”

My season wasn’t one of tragedy, sadness and turmoil. I could choose to see it lifting out of the dirt, the darkness and I can choose to move celebration beyond the happiest time of my life and into the sorrow-filled moments. I can bring that joy of celebration into every season of life I face. Our seasons will always change - but God never does. He is constantly within us, rooting for us through the times of abundant happiness and the times of overwhelming sorrow. He believes in celebrating with us either way. He believes in taking the brokenness and emptiness that you feel and conquering it into gratitude.

“In all these things, we are more than conquerers through Him who loved us” Romans 8:37

In each season, in any time, in any way - God helps us overcome, helps us conquer and celebrates life with us. He keeps us going, keeps us fighting, keeps us smiling, laughing and living.

As I now enter a new season - a season of transition, I’m trying to wrap myself in that promise. I’ve been in Mobile for a month now and I’m feeling much healthier. This place is filled with kindness, beauty and opportunity. I have felt almost lost in it, not knowing what to do with myself at times. I miss my friends, my family, my boyfriend, LMU and the pacific ocean, I miss many things. My heart has been aching for home. I have been praying to feel something, something to make me feel the heartache less, to show this season of transition has its end. I opened my mail last week to a beautiful card made by a mentor and an even greater friend.

@thesunshinecollective

It read, “Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our heart."

Maybe Mobile didn't feel like home because I hadn’t opened my heart to it, I hadn’t let myself love it.

                    me and my community mates entering AL                        my new southern home                                                   downtown mobile

A few days later, my prayers were answered in Elmore, a core member at L’Arche (my JVC placement) with an overwhelmingly huge heart. Each week, the L’Arche members come together for a prayer service where they pray out loud for whomever and whatever they feel called to. Right before his turn, Elmore turned to me, asked my name, and then continued to pray out loud for me.

me and elmore at the L'Arche activity center

A sacred act of love from an almost stranger filled my heart. In that place of prayer, I started to think about my new community mates, those who welcomed me here, my co-workers, the core members at L'Arche - all wanting to love me, accompany me, and make Mobile home in this season and the seasons to come along the journey. The faces of God in my everyday life.

In the midst of this changing season and all of those to come, I know God is here with me. I'm starting to see Him now in places I never imagined I would. He is waiting for me to conquer this season of transition, the next season that will inevitably come, and everything in between. God is hoping for us all to live this day and each one after in celebration for the beauty in each step of our story. Let us all remember to always dance in the sunshine and the rain.

My Next Chapter

During my freshman year of college, me and my roommate/best friend Vanessa decided to make bucket lists. A list of goals and dreams to make in our lifetime, some of them were easily attainable, some were looking more into the future. I hung this sheet on my bulletin board in my dorm room during my four years at LMU, looking to it for inspiration and crossing things off along the way.

It has been two months now since I moved out of my on campus apartment. After finally cleaning through some of my things, I came across the list. Written in pencil on lined paper, with the items I completed over the last four years highlighted off in different colors.

This summer I've been reflecting on the last four years and what a beautiful chapter it has been. A chapter that brought me through 7 states, 12 countries, seven different jobs, 2 illness diagnoses and countless moments of true friendship. I'm looking back on those things I've crossed off that list - hike the Grand Canyon, dine at Club 33, study abroad, visit Africa, do a triathlon, start a blog. It has been four years of adventure and growth. I'm so thankful for every moment.

My first triathalon!

Tanzania - Summer 2015

                 
And now that this chapter is closing, and I'm looking onward to what's next.

One of things that I am most grateful about my time at Loyola Marymount University is the opportunity to receive a Jesuit education.

I'll admit, before I left Orange County for Los Angeles in 2012 - I had no idea what a Jesuit was. And I had no idea that the Jesuit education I would receive from LMU would truly transform my life.

I will break it down for those of you who don't know - the Jesuits are members of the Society of Jesus, a male religious congregation through the Catholic Church. Founded by St.Ignatius of Loyola in 1534, the Jesuits dedicate themselves to the "greater glory of God" and the good of humanity, using faith in action to promote global justice, peace and dialogue. Our current pope, Pope Francis is a Jesuit and there are 28 Jesuit Universities and Colleges in the U.S. .

Because of the Jesuit's commitment to social justice and LMU's mission of becoming men and women for and with others, my education allowed me to be fully immersed and aware of many injustices in my own community and the greater world. Walking the halls of CDRF Women's Jail in Lynwood, easily passing through the Mexico/U.S. and Haiti/Dominican Republic border as I watch those with darker skin than my own wishing it was so easy, courses which dissect systems of oppression, seeing farmers struggle to fight against GMO seed companies in rural India, serving as a companion in an elderly home in Los Angeles, conducting research on support groups and the well-being of individuals with disabilities - these opportunities have been my classroom.

          

Dominican Republic - 2016

India - 2014

                     
The Jesuit education I received from LMU taught me the great importance in not only understanding and acknowledging injustice, but using our own skills and talents to take action and accompany those who are marginalized.

During my sophomore year, I read the book Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion, written by a Jesuit and LMU alumni - Father Greg Boyle. Father Greg is known for his work with Homeboy Industries, which he created to employ and train former gang members, serving over 10,000 men and women seeking a better life. In his incredible work, he emphasizes the power of compassion and kinship - not serving others but being with them.

“No daylight to separate us. Only kinship. Inching ourselves closer to creating a community of kinship such that God might recognize it. Soon we imagine, with God, this circle of compassion. Then we imagine no one standing outside of that circle, moving ourselves closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased. We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied. We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.” 

Shortly after reading this book, I decided to add a year of post-graduate service to my bucket list. I can't imagine walking away from my education without attempting to work towards justice for so many who won't get the chance. 

This is my first step in action and while it may be small and seem insignificant in the face of so many horrible injustices, it is my belief that it is in fact these small steps that come together as strides for justice in our world. 

It is my hope that we can all as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin S.J. writes, "trust in the slow work of God" as we each take whatever steps we can - to show more compassion, more love, and more kinship to work toward dismantling the barriers that exclude. 

In August, I will join more 250 other Jesuit Volunteers as a part of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (JVC), who serve in 37 U.S. cities and 6 countries abroad, all who have committed a year or more of serving and standing with those who are marginalized. 

Three of my best friends - Tilly, Josh & Sara will also become Jesuit Volunteers in August.

The program is centered around JVC's four pillars: social justice, spirituality, community and simple living. As an individual and as a part of the Jesuit Volunteer community, I will be taking time to examine the social, political, cultural, and economic realities I will be seeing every day in my neighborhood and work placement and I will be living out JVC's mission which I truly believe in: to create a more just and hopeful world by fostering the growth of leaders dedicated to faith in action.

This is my next chapter. 

I will be moving to Mobile, Alabama to work at L'Arche Mobile, an organization which provides homes and workplaces where people with and without intellectual disabilities live and work together as peers, creates inclusive communities of faith and friendship and transforms society through relationships that cross social boundaries. As a L'Arche volunteer, I will be working as an activity center team member, helping community members in their activities of daily living, personal care, arts and crafts, etc. I will be supporting people with disabilities in offering both physical, emotional and social support. 

Working with individuals with disabilities is something I'm very passionate about and I'm excited for this journey - to build intentional relationships, to learn, to discover and accompany others with kinship and compassion. It is my hope that this next year will allow me to be fully immersed and present in the service of others, to take this experience as it comes and discover the ways God will change my heart in the coming months and how this next year will shape me. My prayer this year is that this first step of action will lead me to a life of continuing to be a voice for those who are excluded and silenced.

This is a challenging but thrilling time of transition, as I move one state to another, become a full time volunteer, living in a community of 7 women. I am so excited to share this next chapter will all of you reading.

If you would like to learn a little bit more about JVC, my placement and how you can support me, follow the link below:

jesuitvolunteers.myetap.org/fundraiser/smts2016/individual.do?participationRef=1141.0.552633239

Amazing Grace

"The love and mercy given to us, because God desires us to have it"

This is the definition of Grace. When I hear the word, I see the face of a 93 year old woman, named after a virtue that fits her so well. Just as her name is defined, she is a constant reminder to me of the love that God bestows on all of us, not because we deserve it, but because He desires us to have it.

I met Grace on my first visit to Marycrest Manor during my freshman year in 2013. Marycrest is a convalescent home in Culver City run by the Carmelite Sisters that provides skilled nursing services and residency to the elderly who need extra care. As a new volunteer, I was paired with Grace as a resident who the sisters thought I would pair well with, and have visited her almost every week since.

Marycrest introduced me to service in a way I had never considered in my previous service experiences. I have been transformed by the service of presence and accompaniment. 

The residents have showed me that service is not always about action, but being with, sharing and learning from another human soul. 

This has lead me to a deeper understanding of human dignity. Very often, the elderly are forgotten about or abandoned. Hearing their stories and knowing the lives of the residents has shown me what value every human being has, the word of God that each resident has to speak with their life. I have been honored to share my life with the residents and in turn, I have witnessed their unique stories and incredible journeys - each which come together beautifully to create a community that has profoundly impacted me.

Hearing about Sal’s New York lifestyle and love for UCLA, playing Rummikub with Imogene and Eleanor, hearing about Imogene’s travels to the Grand Canyon and beyond, Listening to George play the harmonica, and Mary’s constant chatter in the background. My experience as a volunteer has been filled with joy.

I frequently act as a volunteer for the art program each Wednesday. As several residents face physical or cognitive disabilities, I assist them along with other volunteers in creating beautiful works of art. The residents have creative and artistic visions to reflect and helping them to put their ideas into reality has been a life-giving and incredible experience. Art empowers the residents at Marycrest to know their own creativity and capability. I have witnessed the impact this program has in their lives.

Sometimes Grace and I do art together. We talk about her many children and grandchildren, sit together as she talks to the Marycrest pet birds, or take her on a walk along the bluff as she prays. No matter what she may be facing that day, she greets me with a warm smile, wearing a collection of holiday pins I have made for her over the years on her sweater, and she thanks me, telling me of the love she has for me.

                    "Grace : The love and mercy given to us, because God desires us to have it"

I am reminded of this by the way that she radiates love and joy through her presence and heart. Her word of God has been clearly spoken into my life.

As the women and men of Marycrest have entered my life, I have been able to recognize the great importance of kinship and compassion for our world. As Father Greg Boyle writes, “Compassion isn’t just about feeling the pain of others; it’s about bringing them in toward yourself. If we love what God loves, then, in compassion, margins get erased. Be compassionate as God is compassionate, means the dismantling of barriers that exclude”. When we recognize the divine word of God each human life has to offer, we are filled with compassion for those people. We can stand with them, and as he continues to write “situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away”

In August, I will be moving to Mobile, Alabama to serve a year with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in a L’Arche community - a home for intellectually disabled adults as an activity center team member. Although this experience will be unique, I am thankful for the foundation Marycrest Manor has given me to move forward in the work of empowering individuals living with disabilities, bringing voices and life to those are are excluded and silenced.

Today was my last day at Marycrest and while I hope my path will cross with it again someday, I am thankful. 

I am thankful for Grace, who has filled my heart with love every week for three years, reminding me of the visibility of God's love all around me.

I am thankful to all of the residents of Marycrest, whose hearts and stories have been fixed into my own. 

I am thankful to the ones that we have lost along the way - Winnie, Margherita, Celeste, and Imogene. 

I am thankful to the women and men who have showed me the true meaning of kinship, compassion and accompaniment, I leave them with gratitude to have witnessed the sacredness and gift of life through their eyes.

Go Forth and Set the World on Fire

It is quite amazing that when I walk the graduation stage in a few weeks, every single person in the audience has somehow shaped the experiences of each graduate. I find the interconnectedness of humans to be so beautiful. That no matter how big or small, each and every person who will gather at commencement has influenced my experience and all of the graduates experiences in some way and in turn have influenced this world. Maybe they have inspired someone or guided them, and that person in turn has touched my life and the lives of others. They have raised us, given us life and molded our paths and we have taken that forward, spreading who we are into the lives around us. Life has a ripple effect. I wish that I could personally thank each person who will sit in Sunken Gardens in just two short weeks. Thank you for pouring into and enriching my life these last four years, even when you didn't even know it.

There are many things that I have learned in the past four years. And there are two realizations I reflect about often.

The first, is the power of individuality and the uniqueness of each human soul. A dear friend to LMU, Sister Peg Dolan R.S.H.M. said in Loyola Marymount's 2008 commencement address, "Each of us is a word of God, spoken only once."

I find it very powerful to believe that each one of us has a heart, a mind, and purpose unlike any other person. Our strengths, weaknesses and passions are unique and important to who we are. I've learned that this uniqueness of the human person is the beautiful thing that allows us to work together, filling in the spaces, so that we all may fit. It allows us to lean on each other.

Your purpose is specific to who you are at your core. When we embrace this truth and accept who we are, we can live our lives to accomplish that purpose and accept the people around us, just as they are.  As a word of God that the world needs to hear.

This act of simply being ourselves is what will inspire and light up the lives around us. It will lead us to learn and appreciate not only our similarities, but our differences. Experiencing this is what brings us to witness just what a wonderful world we live in - thriving with stories just waiting to be heard.

LMU has certainly showed me the strength in each person's story. In those people who have offered me kindness and  support. To those people who constantly inspire me with their lives. To the people I have learned from and grown with. To the people I have struggled to understand, the people I have served, the people who have walked alongside me. To the people who have given a piece of themselves to me.

This place and journey has showed me the importance in who each person is, the important in speaking our word of God and more importantly, listening to others speak theirs.

I could go on for pages, listing the moments where the authentic truth of who the people I've met in my college journey are, at their core, transformed me and my view of the world. Thank you to those who have spoken their word of God into my life. I am forever changed by the impact of those people that I now consider my family.

I've realized that in the last four years, I have done a lot of traveling. I would really say that travel has been the theme of my college experience - to Peru, India, Mexico, Tanzania, Rwanda, Spain, France,Belgium, etc. I feel so lucky that I've gotten to experience these incredible places.

More so though, I've come to find that traveling isn't always just visiting a destination. Adventure isn't just an outdoor exploration.

Adventure exists for each of uniquely each day. Our adventure has already begun and continues on in every moment. When I cross the graduation stage, I'm not entering the "real world". Right now, I am alive - I am here and I am living. This is my adventure.

Pico Iyer wrote in his book The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere,

"One of the beauties of Nowhere is that you never know where you’ll end up when you head in its direction, and though the horizon is unlimited, you may have very little sense of what you’ll see along the way.  The deeper blessing is that it can get you as wide-awake, exhilarated, and pumping-hearted as when you are in love."

There is a profound adventure in the smile of each person you encounter and adventure in each daily opportunity we face. I've found adventure in the friendships I've created, the empathy I've shared, the stories I've learned and the lessons I will take with me. Be in love with life, be in love with who you are, with going nowhere, and be in love with every single minute of it all.

As my favorite author Shauna Niequist puts it,

"This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets - this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of us will ever experience."

We travel through this adventure called life, as it ticks by - to create our own personal journey. Every moment is so special to that.

I read this quote by Mark Jenkins during my trip to Tanzania and Rwanda last summer and it has stuck with me,

"Adventure is a path. Real adventure - self determined, self-motivated, often risky - forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way, you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind - and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black and white."

Through my adventure, I believe LMU has shown me and so many to choose that "limitless kindness" and as St.Ignatius of Loyola says, "go forth and set the world on fire" with it.

I think we've already started. When people say they have lost faith in our generation and in the youth of today's society, I think of the incredible students who will sit beside me on commencement day. The LMU Class of 2016. I have seen burning passion and inspiration in the hearts around me, kindness and compassion, strength and resilience. I see life and courage. I see hope.

That passion and life will carry us all through the next steps of our personal journey, as we embrace that kindness that the world has to offer.

So find what sets your heart on fire - where your greatest passion meets the worlds greatest need - and continue to spread that fire within yourself, and when you burn brightly, the world will catch along with you.

Asante Sana - Thank you so much

It has been over 200 days since I returned from Tanzania. I still find myself remembering, processing new things each day and trying to find meaning in those beautiful two weeks with ten incredible people by my side.

As we prepared to leave for the trip, we reflected over a TED called called "The Danger of a Single Story", Chimamanda Adichie shares this:

"I've always felt that it is impossible to engage properly with a place or a person without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person. The consequence of the single story is this: it robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than similar."

I've always thought of Africa as this mysterious place, in need of saving. People have "hearts for Africa" or feel "called" to travel there in efforts to mend the brokenness. There are "Save Africa" campaigns and many products with pictures of the continent to raise funds for HIV relief or orphans. This is the single story of Africa we are told. The truth is that there is so much more than the story we are telling.

This is only a glimpse of my own story of the experiences I had in Tanzania and Rwanda, two countries in East Africa. But I want you to realize and reflect on the fact that there are so many more stories than my words or anyone else's can ever say.

Acidchie goes on to add this:

"Of course, Africa is a continent full of catastrophes. There are immense ones, such as the horrific rapes in Congo. And depressing ones, such as the fact that 5,000 people apply for one job vacancy in Nigeria. But there are other stories that are not about catastrophe. And it is very important, it is just as important, to talk about them."

This story is more than loss, poverty and destruction. Yes, I witnessed some of this. But this is also a story of the love, confusion, faith, frustration, beauty and compassion. And it begins in a dusty white 14 passenger van.

Looking back at pictures and journals from those two weeks, I want to be back there. Besides the sheer beauty of these countries, there was a feeling of peace that felt purifying, joy that inspired me and fear that challenged me. It has been an experience that continues in me today - meaning that I still don't even know what it all meant or how it is continuing to change me.

I didn't quite understand everything this trip brought and I still don't. However, I think that my silence
would only further the single story that we all know so well. I know a different story and it matters, even if it confused me and challenged me, it matters.

I really think the theme of this trip was one of opening my eyes to the presence of God in the world. That God is not only within me, but in my neighbor, in the ocean, in the jungle, in laughter, in chaos, in the people of Tanzania and in my friends and family, all in the exact same capacity.

One of my fellow Tanz Squad members, Michael said something during the trip that I think really speaks to this,

"We as human beings have value just because we were created. And nothing we do can give us more value. Even if we lift certain things up like travel or money, I don't think it adds value to us. But the fact that we were conceived in God's heart. That does."

During some of the recent horrific events happening around the world, I've been reflecting back to my time in Rwanda, where we visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial. I happened to be wearing a t-shirt that day which read "Namaste". Namaste is a Hindu greeting, translated to mean the divine or light in me honors the divinity or light in you. When unspeakable tragedies happen, like the terrorist attacks of Paris and Beirut, violent shootings in San Bernardino or Colorado, the debate of Syrian refugees, the murder of young American black men or the Rwandan genocide, there is no light in this. These tragedies continue to happen - because we are failing see the light in each other. When we fail to see God in everything around us, to see the light that is deeply embedded in our souls, we fail to see that we are all worthy of justice and of love. Maybe if we all lived out a little more "Namaste", there would be a little more peace.

This trip reawakened this belief of mine, that God's light is in everything, if we only open our eyes. I remembered that all of this world was conceived in His heart. God was revealed to me in ways that I never thought I would see Him, in dirt roads and ruin and dust. A vibrant reminder to continue to see the divine in the darkest of places, even in myself, in order to make this world a smaller place. To remove the borders our minds create between places and between people, to see the oceans shorten and the distance of the world disperse. 

On one of our first days in Tanzania, I met Kemi. Kemi is a seamstress in the community who has founded the non-profit organization KVDPA, Karagwe Vocational Training Development and Poverty Alleviation. She not only makes fabric clothes for schools, orphanages, and people in need but provides vocational training, bringing and empowering women of the community to work together. Although Kemi didn't speak very much English, she was the type of person who radiated love from her eyes and her smile. And by the work she was doing in her own community, I could see just how much love she had inside of her heart for others.

I was able to see glimpses of God in Tanzania. Kemi's smile was one of those glimpses. In Tanzania, Kemi's name is pronounced in the same way as my own name, and as we were leaving one day, she pulled me close to her and smiled, and asked to take a photo. The two Kemi's. I realized that her and I were not much different. Oceans and miles separate our homes, but our hearts are in the same place: a desire to alleviate the pain of others. It was encouraging to see such a vibrant heart, in a place that has always been associated with darkness.

It is funny how something as simple as a name can make you realize the connection we have to others. This young girl's name is also Kemi, and I met her as we visited an elementary school deep in rural Karagwe. We were greeted here with songs and dances in Swahili circling around us as we introduced ourselves. I stepped forward and introduced myself, and Kemi came into the center of the circle. She was so small and shy. I looked into her eyes and I didn't see poverty, hurt or loss. I just saw a young girl who reminded me of a young version of myself, with hope of a bright future, if only the world would just look at her that same way.

Just a few days later, we were brought into a home for HIV Aids patients. It was a small, one room shack, in the middle of nowhere, across from a beautiful body of water. Their stories broke my heart, each one a little bit more. This was real, unromanticized poverty. The strength they displayed as their words were translated to us spoke to me. We all sat huddled on the floor of their one room home and listened to their pain. It was confusing but so real. I decided to give a bracelet to one of the women who shared her story. I asked Matthew, our guide, to give this to her and translate to her that I wanted her to have this, that she inspired me. He did this for me, and told me that her reply was of thanks, but what would she do with this, as she needed money and food to survive.

The people in this home could not get the medical attention they needed, not even the bare necessities to survive. The nurse has to travel long distances by foot to get their medications, which they could often not afford. Maybe I saw parts of myself in that hopelessness. While I could never feel anything close to what these survivors feel everyday, I related to the struggle of health, the unable to control any of it, the unpredictability of it all. But I am lucky enough to have the privilege to overcome these obstacles everyday, and the people I met that day probably will never have that chance. How can there be any hope in that?

I started to reflect on this rural community we had been traveling through. I thought about the members of my group, the different privileges we may have. We have the privilege of being educated, of traveling. I thought about Zanzibar, a popular tourist destination off the coast of Tanzania, with abundant privilege, just across the country. Somewhere along the road, privilege and poverty became quiet neighbors but the world keeps moving on, some people without even realizing it. And these neighbors more alike than different, although some would contest any sense of shared humanity.

It's brokenness. There is brokenness in every corner of our world. We don't need to travel to poverty stricken locations, visit the homeless, or the disabled and lonely to see it. It's there in Africa, in our own communities and our own hearts. Sometimes the incredible amount of brokenness that enflames our world can leave me feeling debilitatingly helpless.

During some of our daily Swahili lessons, we learned a phrase called "Harambee", which means a way of coming together as a community, to pull together. I think we need the idea of Harambee to be cultivated more often members of our larger world community. I believe we can all work together to help our world mend its brokenness, piece by piece. I think when the space between "us" and "them" becomes infinitely smaller, we are one step closer. One step closer toward justice, toward understanding each other and the issues that plague our societies, to be able to heal together. I've learned that I need to step outside myself, to recognize my own privilege, my own brokenness, to continue to see the light of God around me and think about how I can use these things, use myself and this life I have been given to help the healing.

During one of our final reflections, our group read a quote by Robert McAfee Brown

"One can affirm God with all the right words, have an impeccable theology and put money in the collection plate and yet, if one is not 'doing justice', the words are hollow, the faith is spurious, the gestures are meaningless and the religious stance being displayed is really Atheism. To know God is to do justice. No separation of the two is possible"

So I leave you with this question - How are you doing justice?