tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85869643452152697012024-02-07T03:49:49.877-08:00tales of a professional volunteer"Right in the middle of your tears-that's where the dance starts and joy is first felt." Henri Nouwen Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-82698421920497860012020-05-26T08:00:00.000-07:002020-05-26T09:23:32.949-07:00To The Class of 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You did not ask for this. You did not plan for this. You were not given time to process with those around you before the world stopped in its tracks. You will be okay, but you do not have to be okay right now.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">IT IS NOT FAIR.</span></div>
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There are plenty of people that have tried their best to celebrate you in unconventional ways, myself included, but it is not the way you expected things to end. There are exams left untaken. There are words left unsaid. There are hugs left ungiven. The prom dress you bought is hanging, unworn in your closet waiting for it's time to shine. A prom court is left unannounced with tiaras and sashes still waiting to be adorned. Yearbooks have yet to be signed. Athletes mourn their last opportunity to show the world what they got. You are left trying to process an end that came too soon.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">YOU ARE NOT ALONE.</span></div>
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You are not alone. I do not know how it feels. I can not put words to your experience. You are allowed to feel sad, mad, disappointed, excited, happy, hopeful, and any other emotion that pops up within the span of a minute, an hour, a day, or a week. You are allowed to express those emotions even if those around you don't understand them. You have friends and classmates who are experiencing this same moment in time. Are you willing to ask them...</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">HOW ARE YOU <i>REALLY</i> DOING?</span></div>
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There is a temptation to not ask this question because you may not be ready to shoulder the emotions we feel. There is a temptation when asked to shrug your shoulders and say fine because you aren't ready to acknowledge your own emotions. Find someone you trust and allow them to be your emotional barf bag. Allow them to help you carry the weight of your current emotions and questions you have about the future. They might be the only person who has the words you need. They are the ones giving you space to grieve the losses and celebrate the joys. They are the ones who keep showing up so keep showing up for them.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">YOU ARE SEEN, KNOWN, LOVED. </span></div>
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I see you. I see the ways you are each coping so differently. I see the amazing humans you are becoming. I see the twinkle in your eye when people assume you are defeated. You are ready to shock the world with what you are becoming. You have allowed me into your stories throughout this year. For some of you, I saw the dark, buried, lonely places while others of you shared the bright, fun, joy-filled places. Both allowed me to know your heart and see it shared with those around you. You are so deeply loved. I know we only had a few short months with each other, but each of you has woven a little piece of yourself into my heart. You will forever be my first senior class and I can't wait to see how...</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">YOU CHANGE THE WORLD. </span></div>
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MUCH LOVE.</div>
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COOK</div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-86102672922011169692018-02-28T13:29:00.001-08:002018-02-28T21:53:55.492-08:00Sri Lanka: Cool Breezes and Gentle Whispers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Freshly showered, mentally foggy, and sipping coffee, I wrestle with all the ways Sri Lanka was nothing like I expected. I have learned from various trips to and through the majority world to hold expectations loosely because the only guarantee is plans will change. All plans changed a few days before arrival.<br />
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After 36 hours of travel, we arrived to the heat and humidity of a tiny fishing village no one has heard of in the corner of a country most people can not locate on a map. Our first day included attending a funeral for a teenage boy who had been killed by a drunk driver. Walking into a grieving, questioning village is anything but a light, airy welcome you expect after 3 days of travel. As I stood at the opening in the fence, I saw the heaviness of loss and grief of a family who lost their only means of income in a senseless accident. I spent this time in prayer as the Buddhist monks officiated the ceremony, and then the body was carried through the village on the way to its final resting place. The village followed silently as a mother stumbled in shock as she buried her oldest son. I was utterly at a loss for words. I felt so small, insignificant, and useless in those moments, but a breeze kicked up just as I was lamenting the amount of sweat dripping down my back and the feeling of hopelessness for this family. The breeze was a beautiful reminder of the opportunity to be hands and feet by simply choosing to be present at a funeral, in a village of hurting people. </div>
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All previous plans changed to accommodate the seven days of mourning which accompany a death in this village. Instead of hosting a weekly tea for the women in the village, we spent our second day visiting an injured teenager from the same accident in the hospital. If you have ever ventured into a government hospital in the majority world, you know the assault of sights and smells upon entry. Seeing this boy's face light up as his mom, brother and a gang of foreigners crowded around his bed was a beautiful reminder of the joy found in the midst of sorrow. Each change in plans proved to be a new, unexpected way to love this village.</div>
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Our days were filled with wandering through the village to sit with women as they talked about the reality of loosing this boy, and the hard realities of making ends meet when fishing season is coming to an end. We drank endless amounts of tea with way too much sugar, and one particular cup winning the worst cup of tea award. Our friends in the village taught us new card games which meant a streak of losses which bruised my competitive ego along with lots of laughter. We sat with a mom who had prayed for years for a baby as she gentle rocked her sweet baby boy to sleep. We got a workout as we played in the waves with children clinging to arms as the waves continued to crash. Laughter rang out from the shore and the waves as we collectively released the weight of a week of sadness.<br />
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Sri Lanka allowed me the time and space to sit back and be an observer. I watched the beauty of community grow as I sat and chose to listen to new friends. I was overwhelmed by the gentle whispers and cool breezes providing comfort as we wandered through the village. Anne Lamott sums it up beautifully in the title of her book <i>Help Thanks Wow.</i> Those words were often on my heart as I sat with a grieving family, shared a meal with new friends, and watched beauty appear all around me. This little corner of the world is now stitched into my story and my heart. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-83626953588999201852017-11-22T04:21:00.000-08:002017-11-22T04:21:11.320-08:00Release<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Release. It's the act of letting go. Moving on. A deep exhale. Release is the best word to describe this season of transition as I say goodbye to camp.</div>
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Forest Home has been a huge part of my journey over the last 6 summers. I have learned the beauty of community and the messiness of choosing to walk with people as they process their journey. I have seen Jesus radically transform lives in the span of a few days. I have sat with youth pastors as they lament in the midst of a hard season. My summers were reserved for serving hundreds of churches and thousands of campers. I loved the chaos of late night stage building and preparing worship experience. I looked forward to sipping coffee with staff as they processed through what God was teaching them at camp. I sat in awe of voices crying out to the Creator of the universe in worship. I witnessed transformation through high fives, prayers and bear hugs. These are the things that made it easy to say yes year after year.<br />
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As a I process stepping away from Forest Home, I am learning what it means to release things that were never mine to carry. </div>
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Over the last 5 years, I have felt the weight of camp on my shoulders in one way or another. My first summer as a dean, I was playing the comparison game (which we all know is a losing game) based on deans I had when I was a counselor or other deans on staff that year. The next summer, I felt the weight of being a returner under a new director and continuing to build relationships from the previous summer. As the years passed and relationships grew deeper, the weight of Lakeview was heavy on my shoulders as an interim director. My heart was to create spaces for students to encounter the real Jesus. Not some two-dimensional, flannel graph, "Jesus is my homeboy" pop culture icon. I felt the weight of making sure everything was perfect because it was my opportunity to invite God into spaces and expectantly wait for Him to change lives. I slowly began to realize my unrealistic expectations had a vice grip on my openhandedness. My margins were thin from long hours and late nights making sure I was meeting deadlines. My heart was empty after pouring so much of myself into my work. My time was spent trying to be the perfect boss and the perfect friend and anything else people needed me to be. I was trying to pour out from an empty container.<br />
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Releasing the weight of years of unrealistic expectations is freeing and terrifying. I am free to go on summer vacations with my family or sit by the pool each afternoon or plan barbecues for my friends. I am free to sit with Jesus without the expectation of needing a new theme or direction for the next season. Freedom is beautiful but terrifying when the next steps are anything but clear. It is daunting to sit in a season of unknowns. Where am I going to work? Where do I want to live? How will I make ends meet in the meantime? Deadlines will be self-imposed. Motivations begins and ends with me. That is slightly terrifying and beautifully freeing.<br />
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I get to dream of ways to pour into my community from a place of health not stress. I get to explore new career paths and find ways my heart for people plays into my vocation. I get to host meals around a table where it is a safe space to talk about anything. I get to set aside space to write and process the journey of saying yes to Jesus along the way. I get to start parties.<br />
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I recently read <i>Assimilate or Go Home</i> by D.L. Mayfield which captures her journey of releasing expectations of being a missionary who has to witness to save people and instead she finds showing up is sometimes the biggest way we point others to Jesus. In the closing chapter, she talks about the ways the kingdom of heaven is being ushered in all around us and sometimes we just need to choose to join the party. Mayfield writes, "<i>We aren't being asked to assimilate, but we are called to make our home here more like the kingdom we have always dreamed about but were too scared to believe was possible. Because God's dream for the world is coming, looming brighter and brighter on the horizon. It's time to enter the party</i>."<br />
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Here is to a season of baking, hosting, listening and releasing. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-5250087784296531182017-08-19T17:58:00.000-07:002017-08-19T17:58:01.493-07:00At The Table<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have had the privilege and opportunity to share meals with amazing people around the world. I have eaten brunch in London with at least 6 nationalities represented. I have been force fed mountains of rice by my friends at Sari Bari. I have eaten many a Thanksgiving meal with chosen family in a variety of different countries. Tonight, I was given the gift of sharing a meal with a refugee family.<br />
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I was invited into a birthday celebration for a Christian with a Jewish name born in a Muslim country as he entered into his 16th year of life. His parents were so gracious in welcoming 6 americans into their home and preparing a feast from their native country. We took our places on the mats laid out on the floor as we were given orange juice to enjoy as the food was placed at the center of the plastic table cloth on the floor. The son was so excited to tell us stories of their time in South Korea and the friends he made with officers in the military while they were living as refugees there. The wife named each dish as she set it in front of us with great pride in her eyes. The husband was telling of the ways God had provided for them as they have been bouncing around trying to find a place to call home after being forced from their home a few years ago. We ate heaping amounts of rice, lentils, vegetables, roti and chicken. They laughed at me as I accidentally ate the chili hidden in the veggies and offered me yogurt to help cool the fire happening on my tongue. We sang "Happy Birthday" as he blew out 16 candles and ate the best chocolate cake I have had on this side of the world. He shared his hopes and dreams of becoming a US Marine so he can protect his family. We took pictures and said our goodbyes. I hoped on the back of a scooter and rode through the bumpy streets of Kathmandu.<br />
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As I was riding home, I realized the rare, beautiful gift I had been given by sharing a meal with this family. It would have been easier to say no to the dinner invitation because we were tired from trekking the day before or we needed to rest before starting another chaotic week in this crazy city. Once we learned we were the only people who were coming to the birthday dinner, we realized the importance of showing up. It meant the world to this family who was struggling to start over again in a new country. They were forced to move to Nepal in February after spending two years in South Korea setting up a life which they thought would last indefinitely. It allowed us to experience and taste their home culture while bonding over being outsiders in a foreign land. I was able to see the love radiating from this family as they shared what they had to host new friends. Meals bring even the most unlikely people around a common table.<br />
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I want to create a table where everyone is invited to share their story and be heard. What does it look like if we all invited someone new to the table?<br />
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-54847737628563386622017-08-14T09:12:00.002-07:002017-08-14T09:12:59.310-07:00It Wasn't What I Expected<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Summer is anything but normal for me. As a camp director, summer is the busiest season of the year with a million different moving parts and no such thing as a normal day. I came into this summer with plans and people in place to make this summer better than the last. I was excited to have returning staff who bought into the vision of this place and new faces who were ready to serve thousands of campers. Along the ways, I learned even the best laid plans are no match for camp.<br />
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Orientation is always a whirlwind of building, playing, learning and sharing. We do our best to establish a firm foundation as a staff before any campers arrive so we can love each other through the hard times while serving churches well. I sit back at the end of this season and see how clearly God's hand was in each staff member being at Lakeview this summer. When I had nothing to offer, they would lean on each other and support each other when life down the mountain got hard. There were moments when tears were the only thing that would come or laughter at another crazy request or songs of praise when the enemy struck. This staff grew stronger as the summer got harder.<br />
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A friend was counseling with her church early in the summer and I was able to share the heartache and heaviness of life down the hill with her. She was willing to sit with me and speak truth over the situation. She said a simple prayer that God would bring people up each week who would sit with me and love me through this season. In the moment, I did not believe God would answer that prayer. Reflecting back on the summer, God beautifully orchestrated people who would listen, cheer me on and speak truth as I navigated a difficult summer. The power of someone saying "me too" was a reminder of the ways I am not alone.<br />
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This summer wasn't what I expected in so many ways but it was a beautiful reminder that God takes our expectations and blows them out of the water. I was able to lean on others who pushed me towards Jesus. I created a space of vulnerability for my staff so they could be fully known. God showed me I am not an island and I need community even when surrounded my hundreds of people. God moved in crazy incredible ways that can only point to a beautiful, powerful, awesome, loving God. The hard memories will fade but the moments that made it all worth it will burn bright.<br />
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It was not what I expected but it was absolutely worth it. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-33063338516616409772016-10-10T17:45:00.002-07:002016-10-10T17:45:53.500-07:00Walking Slowly in Wonder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I struggle to find the words to write to adequately convey my new found sense of wonder, I hear the leaves rustling in wind as I sit on a wrap-around porch in the suburbs of Washington D.C. I hear wind chimes playing a familiar tune as they dance in the wind. I see branches swaying as if welcoming the coming of fall. I am surrounded by trees which are just beginning to turn beautiful shades of orange, yellow and red as sign of Fall's arrival. It is in this moment I sit in wonder. I am amazed at the beauty surrounding me even on a Monday morning.<br />
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I recently arrived back from a trip to the U.K. where I was blessed to be hosted by an amazing family in Shrewsbury and a good friend in London. (For those of you who have traveled internationally, you understand the struggle of not having data for your smart phone.) Shrewsbury is a small town out in the English country side complete with cobblestone streets and a castle. Our first day in Shrewsbury involved getting lost through small passageways and wandering down dead end river walks. I quickly realized I was walking with my head up instead of down engrossed in all the latest happenings on social media. I noticed the beauty of storefronts beckoning us in to peruse their treasures. I stopped to look at bright, white clouds against a pure, blue sky with a blanket of green hills as far as the eye could see. I was slowly learning to see my surroundings through the lens of wonder. I watched the clouds move and transform as they danced with the wind. I admired the sheep perched up on the hills as I struggled to take each step up the slippery path. As I sat down with our host, I heart her heart to love those in ministry and create a safe space to allow wounds to heal within community. I was filled with wonder as I left this small town which taught me to sit in awe and wonder of the beauty surrounding us every day. </div>
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London is a vibrant city filled with people from around the globe. There are so many different neighborhoods each with a different vibe which could be felt as we wandered through breathtaking parks and crowded sidewalks in search of the best latte. I marveled at the array of languages spoken as we jumped on and off the metro. I slowly sipped tea out of delicate china and savored tea sandwiches as sunlight flooded in through towering windows. I ate brunch surrounded by delicious Spanish food and lively Spanish people. I was sat in wonder of the paths all of us had taken to get to the brunch table. I meandered through the modern art museum without the familiar sense of urgency which has been my constant companion over the last few months. I was able to sit and be present in those moments. I sipped good coffee while we dreamed about the future and all the unknowns.<br />
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I am slowly understanding and accepting a posture of wonder as I explore nooks and crannies along the way. I am rediscovering the beauty of walking slowly and marveling at the small things. I invite you to walk slowly this week. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-27720788833299826222016-08-19T12:15:00.002-07:002016-08-19T12:15:40.816-07:00My Summer as Interim<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I stepped into the role of Interim Director of High Ministry not fully understanding the journey it would become. I had two months to plan and create a program for high school students to encounter Jesus during their week at camp. I was excited to watch dreams and ideas come to fruition. I was looking forward to spending weeks with youth pastors and counselors who had become friends over the last four summers. I hired a staff who desired to love counselors and campers in very real ways. I was expectantly waiting for God to move in major ways. <br />
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I was completely unprepared for the ways I would be stretched and challenged. I had a staff of 16 who all had different stories and expectations for the summer. There were a wide variety of youth pastors who all had different expectations of what they wanted out of their week at camp. On occasion, they had harsh critiques for me or simply said they could tell I was a gap filler. I had to quickly find the balance between friend and leader. I was forced into tough conversations with staff about expectations and fighting for each other. I sat with youth pastors as they struggled with campers and shared their heartbreaks as students got sent home. My heart and mind were exhausted and raw at the end of every week.<br />
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In the midst of all the chaos, I was reminded every week of my role as a gap filler. The seemingly innocent questions from youth pastors or counselors about my journey to the interim position and why I was not a fit for the full time position. It felt like daggers being thrust into open wounds every week. I was open to the questions and explained my posture of open handedness as I continued to seek God in a season of being told no.<br />
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I was surprised by the beautiful ways God showed up. I was surrounded by a staff who loved each other well through the long nights and hard conversations. My staff pushed and challenged me to rest amidst the chaos. They learned quickly that I would not settle for easy, one-word answers. Youth pastors gave words of encouragement as they loaded on buses and packed up vans at the end of the week. They allowed me to see the their hearts for ministry, and the fight they engaged in for their students on a daily basis. Speakers pushed me to lean into the gifts I was given to run a programed camp as they spoke truth from the stage that I needed to hear.<br />
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Beautifully chaotic. Those two words perfectly describe this summer. It was a gift to walk alongside staff and counselors as we pointed students to Jesus. I walk away from this summer with empty hands knowing I left it all on the table. I sit with open hands as I allow God to lead me in this next season. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-23221009863012772282016-02-10T07:11:00.002-08:002016-02-10T07:11:15.966-08:00Kolkata. Cancer. Camp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Kolkata. Cancer. Camp.<br />
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Kolkata. Cancer Camp.<br />
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Most of the time I feel like a broken record.<br />
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Those 3 little words have defined the last month. I am going to do my best to briefly explain each.<br />
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Kolkata lodged itself deep, deep in my heart when I first spent time there in 2011. The only word to sufficiently describe the city is HARD. The streets are filled with hard-faced people. You pass people working hard to get out of poverty. Many times people succumb to the hard reality of poverty. Being a white female is hard as I walked the streets and people stared or touched me. Among this hardness are the beautiful women of Sari Bari. They welcomed me back with such love and joy. It is always a gift to see their smiling faces each morning as I ascend the stairs to start the day. I love getting to share the story with visitors as they seek to understand the hope which permeates Sari Bari. I am forever greatly to be just a small part of the Sari Bari community.<br />
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Cancer. It was always something that plagued other families. The day I arrived home from Kolkata, I was confronted with the harsh reality that my family was not invincible. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in Kolkata. My parents decided to wait to tell me until I got back so I found myself exhausted from traveling hearing my mom has a cancer. She explained they found it in the early stages. She was in surgery to remove the tumor 2 weeks after the diagnosis. She is doing well and recovering. We are forever grateful for the army of people praying as family journeys down the road of cancer treatment and recovery.<br />
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Winter Camp is in full swing. I love getting to work with amazing people that strive to create experiences for campers to see Jesus in new ways when they come up to the mountains for a few days. I love seeing the ways God has already worked in the lives of hundreds of Jr High students over the last 5 weeks. I am expectantly waiting to see how God will continue to work in the lives of hundreds of High School students over the next 4 weekends. It has been an exhausting few weeks as I ensure all the pieces are in place and people are prepared. The chaos is where I thrive.<br />
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It has been a rough few weeks as I adjusted to life back in the States. I am confident God is still good. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-84643431931429547992016-01-04T08:44:00.003-08:002016-01-04T08:47:14.130-08:00Life in a Foreign Context<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It has been a gift to spend a week with my cousin and her family in Kathmandu. We have explored all the tourist attractions as well as strolling around back alleys that open to beautiful views of open valleys and towering mountain tops. (Sadly it was too cloudy to see the Himalayas.) They new all the hole in the wall places that were safe to eat as well as the western style restaurants that rivaled Chipotle. I was able to meet some of the expat community and hear the wide variety of things they are involved in throughout the country. I found it interesting that at some point during conversations someone would bring up the gas shortage. The would ask how many tanks of cooking gas we had or what the going black market price was for taxis or where they were getting black market gasoline. I realized this part of the world creates extreme hoarders out of even the most normal people. (I learned to hoard small bills in India.) I realized a good school is important for every family living abroad and kids are kids no matter where they live. People who call a foreign city home learn to negotiate everything and will walk away if they can not get a local price for something. Americans abroad wrestle with the reality of having the means to pay for things that make life sustainable while still wanting to engage local culture and community. (I have argued to the death over 10 rupees which is $0.15.) All expats are always looking for a good deal on flights to their home country and usually know the best routes and have flown enough airlines to know which ones to never fly no matter how cheap it is. (I will never, ever fly Biman Bangladesh again.)<br />
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I am forever grateful for each and every expat who has welcomed me into their homes and community. I have learned invaluable lessons on what is truly important when living abroad and how the little things become precious gifts throughout a hard day, week, month, year. I am blown away by the amazingly strong men and women doing life outside their home country/culture. They are a beautiful community that has learned to welcome people well and say hard goodbyes. I cherish the opportunity to meet so many expats around the world and am so incredibly thankful for their hospitality and generosity extended to me. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-30330078396609773712016-01-01T17:55:00.001-08:002016-01-01T17:55:20.072-08:00Nepal: The Struggle is Real<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Life is rough in Nepal. I knew it would be when arrived but seeing the day to day struggle for Nepali and Bideshi alike after the earthquake destroyed so many structures and the current rioting taking place at the border which means limited supplies are coming through the border. These two situations combined have increased the cost of living and stunted the tourism industry which is the top grossing industry in this small, land-locked country. Gasoline and cooking gas are hard to come by so there is a lucrative black market charging exuberant prices for these daily necessities. Businesses who depend on tourism are struggling to stay afloat as tourist are few and far between since the earthquake. Nepal is thought to have have lost 50 billion rupees last year from the earthquake and the last of tourism.<br />
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Today, we took the opportunity to help stimulate the tourism industry and explored the 3 original kingdoms which make up the Kathmandu Valley. Each kingdom sustained a great deal of damage from the powerful earthquake which hit last April. There are temples that toppled and buildings that buckled. Piles of rubble are a sobering reminder of the devastation sustained last April. The once packed tourist attractions are now sparsely spotted with a group here and there. We hired a tour guide to show us around Bhaktapur. He works for a trekking company which normally has thousands of inquires each year from around the world. This year, they have only had four inquires for all of 2016. Taxi drivers are forced to charge quadruple the normal fare to afford gasoline on the black market. The streets are lined with buses, trucks and cars waiting for days to fill up their tanks if gasoline becomes available. There are fewer buses and those running are dangerously overcrowded to the point which they are teetering to one side as they drive. Restaurants have had to limit their menus to account for limited cooking gas. Many small roadside eateries are cooking over wood fires because cooking gas is too costly or completely unavailable.<br />
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Today I am thankful for the opportunity to explore this city with my cousin and her family. I am thankful I live in a country which has electricity, natural gas and gasoline are available 24 hours a day. I am thankful for the blessing to be able to travel and explore the world. More importantly, I am grateful for the ways God is present amidst the brokenness in this city and the ways He is bring restoration.<br />
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-79824744770449588602015-12-12T17:12:00.001-08:002015-12-12T17:12:43.682-08:00My Next Big Adventure: Nepal & India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In two weeks I will be embarking on another adventure halfway around the world. I will be traveling to Nepal & India which are currently at odds with each other. I have the opportunity to play Santa Clause for my cousin and her family who moved to Nepal a few months ago. I will be bringing Christmas presents for her kids as well as American goodies and a taste of home as they endure through the gas shortage which currently plagues this tiny country. Nepal sustained major damage from the earthquake that hit last April which they are still trying to rebuild. A few months later, Nepal ratified a new constitution which India was not excited about so they closed the boarders in order to stop gas from crossing the boarder into the small country. The result is months without cooking gas or gasoline for transportation. As I head into the chaos, I am excited to spend time with my cousin and provide a much needed hug from home.<br />
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From Nepal, I will be traveling back to Kolkata to help host a team from Biola University. I am excited to introduce the girls from Biola to the beautiful women of Sari Bari. I am looking forward to seeing Kolkata through their eyes as they give me a fresh perspective on the brokenness amidst the beauty. This team will get a small glimpse into the freedom journey Sari Bari is helping to write in the back lanes of the red light areas. I know there will be challenges and obstacles along the way, and I am doing my best to mentally, emotionally, spiritually prepare for mean streets of Kolkata. I am expectantly waiting for God to do something awesome as I journey halfway around the world. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-27163692699059428652015-08-19T20:30:00.002-07:002015-08-19T20:30:46.887-07:00#camplife<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Camp has been a huge part of my life over the last 4 years. It has been a place where I learned the value of community and had the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus to thousands of campers each summer. I accepted a year around position at camp while still in India not knowing how my transition back to the States would be, but also knowing there was no other place I would rather process my time in India.<br />
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I arrived home from Kolkata 4 months ago with huge holes in my heart as I longed to be back at Sari Bari with the women and expat community which had become like family. As I began to share about my experience with friends and family, I found myself growing bitter and angry because no one really understood. I appreciate those who walked through those hard conversations with me as I slowly started to process all the small things God did in and through me. I gave myself two short weeks to readjust before jumping full force into my new position at camp. </div>
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I stepped into the Program Ministries Assistant role not knowing what it would look like or involve. I knew it was an office job but there was freedom to roam around each camp center in order to invest in other staff members. I was nervous to have 6 different supervisors who were all so different, and I was unsure of their expectations. Camp preparation was in full swing as I walked into the office and was put to work making schedules and submitting check requests. It was not the camp life I was used to but grateful for the opportunity to experience camp through a different role. </div>
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Camp was in full swing starting the second week of June. Campers arrived by the hundreds each week. I was excited to see familiar faces and have the opportunity to be a counselor for a few churches throughout the summer. I had the opportunity to share about my time in Kolkata with 5th & 6th graders each week, and they had the opportunity to support the work of Sari Bari. I was able to create space to process through my time in Kolkata with youth pastors and friends who had been praying for me while I was in India. It was often painful to share about the difficult times and the ways my heart hurt for the women in Kolkata. I loved being able to share about the good times and the ways God is working in the red light areas. I am so grateful for those brief conversations which helped me process my time in India. </div>
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A few weeks into camp, I stepped into the counseling staff supervisor role which means I had a staff of my own. I was responsible for the well-being of 12 staff counselors. I felt inadequate in so many ways because I was unsure of my capacity to love others while I still felt so broken from my time in India. The staff counselors hesitantly welcomed me in unsure of the part I would play in their summer. Within the first few days, the girls were opening up and sharing their struggles as a staff counselor and the difficult campers they had that week. As part of my weekly routine, I would make time to check in with them as often as I could. I would hear stories of the ways God was working through them. I would hear the struggles of difficult campers or counselors. They would share bits and pieces of their life and the journey which brought them to camp. It was life-giving for me to walk through camp with this group of counselors as they loved campers well. I was able to spoil them with lots of coffee and treats throughout the summer. It was a tough learning curve for me to figure out the balance of being a boss verses being a friend. There were times I had to make hard, unpopular decisions, but it was for the greater good of the counsel. God was present each step of the way and it helped me better understand what it looks like to live openhandedly. I am so thankful for the moments I was able to spend with the counsel, and I look forward to building on the friendships that were formed. </div>
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As a side note, there is a chance I will be heading back to Kolkata for a short trip early next year. I am excited to share more about this opportunity once details are worked out. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-14617535732341492592015-04-25T08:25:00.002-07:002015-04-25T08:25:42.348-07:00Reentry and Beyond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In so many ways, I thought I knew what it would look like returning back to life in America. I have done it before. I was ready for all the general questions about my time, and I had my automatic responses ready to go. I prepared to take a few weeks before jumping back into jobs and routines. I left Kolkata with hopes and dreams of rest and relaxation as I reentered life in America. <div>
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I arrived a week ago. I was met with a lot of love from my friends and family. I was bombarded with text messages welcoming me back home. My calendar immediately started filling up with coffee dates with friends and meetings with supporters. I am coordinating the Sari Bari Quilt Auction starting next week so I had to jump into working on taking pictures and updating information on eBay. I drank multiple cups of coffee each morning as jet lag reared its ugly head with 3 am wake up calls. Around 2 pm, I would take a nap so I could make through the rest of my day and go to bed at an acceptable time. </div>
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Reentry has been hard. Harder than I remember. There are good days and bad days. Kolkata creates introverts so it has been overwhelming to jump back into my extroverted routine. I made plans to spend time with friends who know and love me, and occasionally I would cancel because it seemed overwhelming to meet in a crowded coffee shop or didn't have the mental energy to share about my experience in India. I am so grateful for the grace I have been shown in reentry and the space I have been given to process my time in Kolkata. </div>
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As I sip coffee, I am reminded of the beautiful laughter of the Sari Bari women and the ways they loved me during my time there. I laugh as I think about waking up to the landlord yelling on Saturday mornings and random people having parties in our alley at 3 am. I cringe as I remember the critters that shared our flat and how many times we had to buy rat poison. I think back to my ability to hoard things like small bills (10 rupee notes) as well as Red Vines and dark chocolate. I cherish the times spent walking hand in hand with the ladies as we left work each night. I miss sitting and talking with the Sari Bari senior staff about life and my weekly lunches with Sarah. My time in Kolkata was hard but it forced me to see the beauty among the broken and cherish the good memories. A piece of Sari Bari has been stitched into my heart and I will never forget my time there. </div>
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Small things seem so foreign to me as I begin to resume my routines. I have heard multiple stories of people having reverse culture shock breakdowns in grocery stores, but I had never experienced it in the past so I assumed I was immune to the overwhelming variety on grocery store shelves. I was wrong. I had my list in hand and went to Vons. I stopped and stared at rice for about 10 mins not knowing which rice to buy. Then I realized I don't have to buy rice. It no longer has to be a staple in my diet. I wondered down the peanut butter aisle (which was not on the list) and just stared at the number of brands and sizes available. I was so overwhelmed by the number of choices and variety of food products. I quickly found the items on my list, keep my head down and went to the check out stand. It was overwhelming but it is part of normal life here. It is in those moments I realize I am adjusting to a new normal. Living in Kolkata has left a mark and it has created a new normal life. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-56813095668449993272015-04-11T06:40:00.003-07:002015-04-11T06:40:46.323-07:00I'm Coming Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In 4 short days I will leave Kolkata not knowing when/if I will return. I have spent six months fighting this city. I chose to come back knowing the fight it takes just to leave the safety of my flat every morning. The fight was always worth walking through the doors of Sari Bari everyday. Sari Bari was created to provide a safe place for women leaving the trade, and it has become my safe place and a refuge from the chaos of the city. I look forward to walking up the stairs to be greeted by the ladies. I look forward to sitting among the women while I work. I look forward to hearing the laughter as the ladies work on cutting and patching. I will miss walking through those red doors everyday.<br />
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I was able to take time this weekend to begin processing my time here. Sarah asked some really hard questions to talk about the hard stuff of living in this culture. I did not realize the deep effect getting touched and grabbed by men had on my mind. It happens more often than not and for the most part I shove it down deeper so that I can continue on my way to work. I realized I never really dealt with the touching and grabbing after my first trip to India which looking back, I can see how the triggers have made me react in a way that is not me. We also talked about the good things. The ways my time in Kolkata has been life giving and transformative. I loved getting to work alongside some amazing women who have dedicated their lives to living in Kolkata and allowing women an opportunity to choose freedom. I enjoyed every moment at Sari Bari getting to know the women and trying to make them laugh. These women have been stitched into my heart and saying goodbye on Tuesday will be no small task. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-50080958296239176062015-03-28T21:48:00.000-07:002015-03-28T21:48:06.362-07:00It Takes a Village<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I would use one word to describe the ladies at Sari Bari. Family. They are mothers and daughters and grandmothers and sisters to each other. When babies come to work, they are passed around from one lady to another. They treat the child as if it was their own as they feed him or play with him. They each take turns giving him love in the form of hugs and kisses. This little boy has 30 aunties to help him grow up. There are also times when an older child comes for the day because schools have a holiday. It is so much fun to watch the women shower them with love in the form of candy or ice cream. The women get to see these children grow and love them each step of the way. <div>
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There are also times where the Sari Bari family grieves together. They come together to support a woman who lost her husband. Some of the woman can cry with her as they know the pain of losing a husband. They support the woman who lost her sister and sit with her in the heartache. If a woman is in the hospital, they will go visit her. If a woman is sick, they will go check on her. They have become family as they choose to love each other through the hard times. </div>
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It has been a gift to be welcomed into the Sari Bari family if only for a brief time. The women have cared for me in ways that I sometimes don't understand. (For example: I hurt my back lifting a bag of product and they all told me to go ask one of the ladies for Vick's Vapor Rub because it would help the pain.) Recently, I have been bringing a sandwich for lunch so the ladies have been offering me rice to make sure I have enough to fill me up. They offer me puffed rice or sweets during tea time. They yell at me if I am working during the lunch hour. I feel truly loved by these women. They have sewn themselves into my heart and my story. They have taught me how to love well. </div>
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I will be leaving this crazy, chaotic city in 2 short weeks. Plans have been made for a debrief retreat and my last day at Sari Bari. I am counting down how many more times I have to hand wash my laundry. (16 times in case you were wondering.) I am looking forward to AC and seeing my family. I am dreading saying goodbye to people who have helped me navigate and love this city. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-8072440787587903362015-03-22T07:22:00.002-07:002015-03-22T07:22:37.283-07:00One of Those Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Have you ever had one of those days? A day where everything just feels right. A day where you know you are in the right place at the right time with the right people. A day where you feel like you could live in Kolkata forever. Today was just one of those days.<br />
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A few months ago Sari Bari filled the biggest order in their 9 year history in which we all worked more than full time and came home exhausted. Today we celebrated. We went to brunch at a nice hotel and indulged in cheese, a chocolate fountain and champagne. After we were filled to the brim, we went for a swim and chatted as we hung out in the cool water on the rooftop overlooking the city. Today was just one of those days.<br />
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As we sat around, we talked about what animals we would want to communicate with if the apocalypse happened, and if we were a gnome, where we would want to be and what we would be holding. We sipped coffee and champagne as we chatted and opened up about insecurities as well as the things we love about our bodies. We talked about being the middle child or baby or oldest. We talked about being minorities even in America. There was a sense of security as we were vulnerable over desserts piled high and covered in chocolate. Today was just one of those days.<br />
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Today was one of those days where life in Kolkata felt normal and I could see what my life here would look like long term. We sat on the edge of the infinity pool and talked about life. I see the ways this city can be life giving amidst the chaos. I see the ways I fit into the community. I see the ways it is a treat to share brunch with friends. It is days like today that makes leaving in 3 weeks so much harder because in so many ways Kolkata has become my home over the last six months. I am looking forward to familiarity of home but I know a huge part of my heart will be left in Kolkata. I know it will not be a goodbye but see you later because of days like today. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-85373571791297491662015-03-15T03:02:00.002-07:002015-03-15T03:02:38.035-07:00Month Five<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Five months. I have grown to love this cray, chaotic city which I have called home for the last five months. Looking back, I thought there was no end in sight, but now it seems like my departure date is coming all too quickly. The last month has been full of busy days and restful weekends. I have sat beside the ladies as they sew. I have checked and packed bags for shipments. I have been checked for lice and had a stomach bug take me out of the game for a few days. I will leave all the craziness and chaos in one short month. I am looking forward to having a washing machine and hot running water but I will miss the simplicity of life in Kolkata. <div>
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The ladies are starting to ask if I am coming back after I go home. I just shake my head and say "ashbo na". I do not know what the future holds but I know that it was a gift to come back to this place. I have cherished the time I was able to spend here. I look forward to partnering with Sari Bari in the future whether it is from the States or moving to Kolkata if that is where God leads me. As I look to the next month, I know there will be some really hard goodbyes and see you laters. My time in Kolkata has been a gift and I am grateful for everyone who has supported me along the way. <div>
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Yesterday, we celebrated Sari Bari's 9th birthday by taking everyone to a wax museum and big park just outside the city. The ladies all wore their "fancies" and there was a general excitement in the air as we all piled into Sumos (a Jeep like vehicle for hauling people). It was amazing to watch the ladies faces light up as they took pictures with wax statues of famous Indians. They would come grab my hand and drag me over to take a picture of them standing next to a famous Bollywood star or Gandhi. It was like watching kids take in Disneyland for the first time. After the museum, we walked across the street to a park for lunch. We spent the afternoon laying in the grass and watching the women ride bikes and boats. They were smiling from ear to ear as they rode bikes for the first time and the laughter as they struggled to keep the bike upright. Once the sun went down, we sat and watched a fountain light show on the lake. The ladies were singing along with the music and clapped as new lazer shapes or colors appeared. These are the glimpses of joy and laughter I will never forget. It was a gift to be a part of a celebration which was 9 years in the making. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-54362609819853351692015-03-12T08:57:00.001-07:002015-03-12T08:57:06.396-07:00Love by Ones<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was listening to a sermon last weekend and at the end, the pastor mentioned the idea of loving by ones. Love by ones. I had never heard it put so plainly. One by one is how we are supposed to love people. We are supposed to love the people who are in front of us or the ones who need us in that moment. Loving people also looks very different across cultures and circumstances. In Kolkata, love looks like eating mountains of rice which I would normal avoid back home. Love is sitting an eating an unknown fruit without washing it because it was given to me by one of the ladies. Love is walking hand in hand with one of the ladies as we leave work. Love is a head nod and a smile. All of these things involve no words but love is so clearly communicated. Love is an action.<br />
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Love is also words. Love is allowing people space to vent when they are frustrated. Love is community creating safe space to be vulnerable. Love is offering Reese's Pieces, Red Vines or Swedish Fish during tea time. Love is sharing a meal and talking about growing up in Southern California. Love is the affirmation that my time here has been valuable. Love is sitting a listening to the good, bad and ugly parts of life in Kolkata. Love is being invited to share a meal in someone's home. It is in these moments where love is felt.<br />
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-44147421985527561432015-03-06T20:13:00.000-08:002015-03-06T20:13:15.868-08:00Looking Back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Holi was this week. We had two days off. I took this time to read my previous blogs and reflect on the journey so far. I read about my excitement as my return to Kolkata became a reality. I read about the nerves as I packed my bags and began the adventure that is getting to Kolkata. I read my initial reaction to the chaos of arriving in Kolkata after long, sleepless flights. I read about the valleys along the way when I didn't think I would have the strength to stay for the duration of my visa. I read about the joy of sitting with the ladies as they work diligently to get products completed and send out. <div>
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As I read these words, it brought back very vivid memories of the mental space I was occupying during those times. I remember the excitement and anticipation as I arrived to a familiar yet new experience. I remember the times I was grabbed by men on the streets. I remember the tears as I battled depression and anxiety. I remember the joy in celebrating Christmas with the ladies, but also the deep sadness of being away from family for the holidays. I remember the stress of working through weekends and holidays to get the Dillard's order completed and out the door. I remember my time in Delhi and the huge blessing it was to sit on a grassy rooftop to watch the sunset with a friend. I remember the many times our community gathered in our flat to share a meal or a cup of coffee. I remember the many ways this place has become home. I remember the big belly laughs. I remember the glimpses of beauty among the brokenness of Kolkata. </div>
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I have learned about my deep desire and need for a community as I walk through life. I have learned technology is a huge blessing to keep connected to people who know my heart and encourage me through emails and texts. I learned the importance of staying focused on a big God who loves instead of feeling discouraged by the daily things that break my heart. I realized the importance of honesty and vulnerability so I do not carry my burdens alone. I have found beauty in the unexpected places of broken buildings or the silence of sewing at Sari Bari. I notice the joy of laughter and the love in sharing rice. This city has changed me and the way I see things. </div>
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My time is quickly coming to a close here. Less than 6 weeks and I will be eating Mexican food and gourmet ice cream with my sister and chatting for hours over coffee with friends. I am starting to have conversations about jobs when I get home. I am dreaming of ways to stay connected to Sari Bari when I return to Southern California. I am gearing up for hard goodbyes and hopeful see you laters. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-81838772408405879472015-03-01T03:02:00.000-08:002015-03-01T03:02:14.533-08:00When Jesus turns things Upside Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today at church we discussed the passage in Luke about Jesus casting demons into pigs and then they all jumped off a cliff. At one point during the discussion, someone saw a connection to Luke 4:18-19 where Jesus stands in the synagogue reads a passage from Isaiah says he is fulfilling the prophesy starting all kinds of drama within the gathering. I love it because in many ways Jesus stood up dropped a bomb then dropped the mic and walked away. Just listen to this:<br />
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"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; </div>
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because he has anointed me</div>
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to proclaim good news to the poor. </div>
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He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives</div>
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to set at liberty those who are oppressed, </div>
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to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." </div>
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It is funny because the people in the room have been waiting for the Messiah. A Savior. Jesus comes on the scene and turns everything upside down. He is fully confident in who and what the Father has called him to say and do. He makes no apologies and doesn't force people to follow him. Instead, he presents the information and let's people decide for themselves. </div>
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I saw this with fresh eyes this morning. I now see it through the lenses of hope for the women I work with, for the men who roam the streets, for the children who go without food. Jesus came to proclaim hope to those on the fringes. It is really cool to watch the work Jesus started 2000 years ago being continued today on the lanes of the red light areas. The upside down way to see the women we work with as valuable, loved, redeemed, restored as opposed to society telling them they are ruined, dirty, worthless. Most upstanding citizens in this city would never associate with women who are associated with the trade. They avoid the area I call home. They don't see these women has human beings but merely part of a business transaction. I choose to hang out and work with these women because they know how to love me. They have huge hearts for the family of Sari Bari and feed me more rice than my stomach can possibly handle. God is restoring the red light areas and bringing freedom to the captives and good news to the poor. It is a gift to see these things in action. I am blessed. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-3091221217292204662015-02-25T07:21:00.000-08:002015-02-25T07:21:04.836-08:00The Wounds We Carry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Forgive and forget. This is something we are taught from a young age. Often times, we do not and can not forget the pain so we shove it down deeper. We keep it hidden so we appear to have forgotten except when a moment or a memory brings it to the surface and rips open the wound again. It is hard to voice our pain to others because it means we didn't forget. What if we just forgive and never forget? What if we allow Jesus to redeem the really deep wounds but allow our scars to be told through our stories? What if those wounds we signs of hope for others who are going through the same situations or struggles? <div>
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I was forced to think about this in light of the women I work with on a daily basis. I am surrounded by women who deeply love, greatly care and abundantly feed everyone around them. I have only heard brief stories of the struggles they have faced along their journey to Sari Bari. I can only imagine the struggles they have faced or the abuse they have suffered. I can't imagine any one of these women has forgotten their past but have used their past struggles to fight for each step of freedom. They are welcomed into a family who share their wounds and the ways they have been restored. It was beautiful to hear the ways Sari Bari has transformed lives during the birthday celebration. Generations are being transformed and deep wounds are being redeemed. What would it look like if I let my wounds transform the way I love people? What would it look like to carry those wounds as a part of my story? How could my wounds change the way people see me? </div>
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Kolkata is a city that creates huge wounds in my heart. It aches for the extreme poverty. It cringes as the injustice. It cries out for the women and children in bondage. It hurts for the brokenness of the lanes of the red light areas. There are also the wounds of being a white woman walking the streets of Kolkata. As I pass, I hear words I understand in English (and some I don't in Bengali) which shrinks me down to a pair of boobs. As I crowd into the metro or stop to buy a cold drink, I am grabbed as if I were a piece of meat for the taking or the subtle brushes which slowly eat away at my worth. Those are the wounds I carry with me as I leave this place. God is healing those wounds as I offer them up to Him. Through redemption those wounds are made beautiful. When Jesus appeared to his disciples after being crucified, it was his wounds which proved his identity. My wounds are proof of the journey God has laid before me. I can not and will not forget. </div>
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-6118670638587147822015-02-20T09:00:00.000-08:002015-02-20T20:48:11.545-08:00Month Four<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last month has been filled with the absolute insanity of fulfilling the biggest order in Sari Bari history and the much needed break with a friend in Delhi. Amidst the chaos, time flew by. I had not been to the Sari Bari unit in the south of the city for a few weeks and I was able to return this week. It was such a sweet time quietly sitting with the ladies as they sewed beautiful works of art. It was in the quiet space I realized what a gift time here is. I have been welcomed into the Sari Bari family and been giving more rice than I could possible eat, more hugs than I would expect and more love than I deserve. There is laughter as I sit back and watch the women joke with one another. There is a sense of peace and safety within the walls of Sari Bari that words do not sufficiently describe. The ladies are my heroes for the way they choose freedom amidst a culture that tells them freedom is not an option. They create beauty out of old saris and they are so proud of their work. Dignity is restored. Hope becomes reality.<br />
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I stand at the threshold of each new day with a sense of urgency, sadness, longing, joy, hope and peace. Some days I feel as if time is moving too quickly and I wont be able to accomplish my tasks before I say goodbye. Other days I enjoy the sweet, slow moments of laughter with the ladies. In 2011, I looked forward to freedom birthdays and Christmas parties because there was such a sense of joy and celebration. Those were the big moments I remembered. Being here now, I look forward to the everyday tasks. Packing product to be shipped around the world. Carrying product from one building to the next. The ladies feeding me mountains of rice, India flavored candy and all kinds of sweets. Feeding the women all forms of peanut butter in return. It is watching the women create beautiful works of art with a needle and thread. I am blown away with the love and grace they extend to me as I struggle to communicate.<br />
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The question arrises about how long I will be here. Most assume 3 years since this is my second time at Sari Bari and that is the normal flow for foreign staff. I tell them I will be here two more months. They ask when I am coming back and I say I don't know. I get looks of confusion or disappointment. It is in these moments my heart breaks because this chapter is quickly coming to an end. I will soak up every moment I have here with a grateful heart.<br />
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Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-75919914325422481682015-02-13T22:51:00.001-08:002015-02-13T22:51:53.363-08:00A Day in the Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Have you ever come home from a vacation feeling like you needed another vacation to recuperate? Delhi was a such a good, healthy, restful break from the chaos of the city, but jumping right back into the insanity that is my daily life in Kolkata turned into an exhausting week. Part of the reason I love living and working in Kolkata is the constant change from day to day. One day will be a peaceful day at the office where I sit and chat with the ladies during tea time while having space to be creative with the marketing plan. Other days its rushing to get product out the door to meet a deadline so we can make payday or hosting a tour in the midst of chaos in the lanes surrounding Sari Bari. I am constantly being stretched above and beyond what I think I can handle. It is in the chaos I learn real peace. It is in the hard times I discover true joy. It is in the exhaustion I find rest.<br />
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By Friday night I was exhausted from late nights of community gatherings. It was a struggle to get out of bed knowing I would be giving a tour, packing product and rolling with whatever punches came my way. My margins were so thin. One thing I look forward to is Friday morning prayer with the North American Sari Bari community. We intentionally set aside time to pray for one another, this city and the women at Sari Bari. We are honest. We are vulnerable. We often pray for the impossible. Yesterday, my friend prayed that I would find joy in spite of being exhausted which felt impossible. After prayer, I walked in to Sari Bari and felt a surge of energy. There was laughter. There was peace. I found joy in hearing the women laugh. I found joy in sharing Sari Bari's story with visitors. I found joy in being force feed rice. It is in those moment I know Sari Bari is a safe place, a refuge from the storm. It is where my soul finds rest.<br />
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Community in Kolkata has become a huge part of thriving in this city and the work we do everyday. We share meals with people who have become so woven into our stories as we sit and talk about the hard stuff and laugh big belly laughter. It is in this space where we can be honest with the ways our hearts hurt for the people we work with or the reality of being separated from our families. These people understand the reality of working with broken women and the desire to restore dignity and hope in the red light areas. I found a quote which perfectly sums up life in Kolkata: "The world may be broken but hope is not crazy" (The Fault in our Stars). We cling to hope. Hope that the women will continue to find freedom. Hope that God is still good. Hope that one day the red light areas will be transformed. Hope is what makes me put one foot in front of the other on hard days. Hope of a better life for the women. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-36356015104163926312015-02-09T18:28:00.001-08:002015-02-09T18:28:39.151-08:00Coffee and Conversation in Delhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My soul was tired. I needed a break from the hustle and bustle of Kolkata. I love when God makes things happen even before I know what I need. I spent the last few days in Delhi staying with a friend and his parents who live there. It was good to have time and space to process my time in Kolkata. It was good for my heart to have a friend ask hard questions. I loved sitting in the grass on the rooftop drinking coffee and watching the sunset. We talked about camp memories. We laughed at all the stupid things we did at camp. We FaceTimed with people from camp who encouraged us both. My friend created intentional empty space for me to relax and recharge. He wanted to hear my heart. He wanted to understand as much of my life in India as he could. There were times we would just sit in silence. My time in Delhi was a gift that I am so thankful for. I am rested and ready to head into my last 2 months in Kolkata. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586964345215269701.post-42766635195925779282015-01-31T02:46:00.001-08:002015-02-01T07:18:34.831-08:00When Impossible Happens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sari Bari just sent out it's largest order yet and it will be arriving at Dillard's this Spring. Along the way, there have been a variety of speed bumps from receiving canvas six weeks late to 4,000 dog hooks that don't open because it wouldn't be India if we didn't have a few minor hiccups. Through this order, I learned the value of buy in and teamwork. I learned how to braid handles and managed to braid until my fingers were blistered. I hammered hundreds of bags and occasionally managed to get my fingers in between the hammer and bag. I have a huge respect for zippers after putting thousands of pullers on zippers. (I never knew they didn't come with the pullers already attached.) Muscles I never knew I had in my right hand were sore from clamping beads on to hundreds of braided handles. I learned to carry bags on my shoulders like the local men selling their wares. My knees and back reminded me I am not a teenager and would revolt at the end of the day from sitting on the floor and carrying heavy things up and down stairs all day. But every single moment was worth it because I got to do it alongside the women at Sari Bari.<br />
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These women are my heroes. They wake up at 4 or 5 am every morning to do house work and take care of their family. Once they finish taking care of their family, they start the commute to Sari Bari which for some is more than an hour. They arrive at Sari Bari ready to work a full day. They take care of each other and the foreigners at the office. They share their food with us to make sure we have enough to eat. They know when we are having a bad day or have been crying so they ask questions. Sari Bari is a family so they take care of one another. When the Dillard's order seemed impossible, it was them who reminded us that nothing is impossible. After working through a holiday weekend, one women said "We are Sari Bari. If we don't do it, then who will?" Sari Bari would not exist without these women who work hard at home and at work. They choose freedom daily. There were people along the way saying it would be impossible but these ladies don't know what impossible means. It is an honor and a privilege to work alongside these ladies. They are my heroes. </div>
Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14719091594869947620noreply@blogger.com0