Tuesday, September 23, 2014

What You Don't Know: Poverty

Hey guys!

Do you remember, way back in June, when I began my series called What You Don’t Know Can’t Hurt You? Yeah, neither do I. However, jog your memory and read it again if you need to, just click here.

Are you back? Okay, let’s continue.

Of all of the things I want to talk about in this series-gender equality, terrorism, hunger, child slavery, prostitution, ethnic stereotyping, etc.-I came to the conclusion almost right away that one of the biggest issues facing the world today is poverty. In fact, if you do a little digging (as I did), it becomes clear that poverty is at the root of almost all of the social issues I just listed.


We live in an insane world. That’s the only conclusion I can come to when I see people plugged into their tablets and phones as Rome burns around them-our modern equivalent to Nero’s fiddle, I suppose. Living in Mexico gives me a unique perspective, because unlike the manicured perfection of the States-or at least of suburban Minnesota-Mexico doesn’t clean up after itself. There are beggars on the curbs, children performing on the street for money for their dinner money, and prostitutes working their corners at night. And every time I go into the city of Puebla, I watch people walk right past them, too concerned with their Facebook accounts and watches to stop and help their fellow man. Worse than this, I’m just as guilty of them-I’ve walked right past the needy, as well. Can’t save them all, right?

There are a lot of things wrong with this world, but I think out of all of them, our biggest issue is apathy. And that’s why this post exists: if you can shake the apathy long enough to read it, maybe-just maybe-you’ll be inspired to do something to halt poverty in its tracks.

What is poverty?

The World Bank Organization describes poverty in this way:

“Poverty is hunger. Poverty is lack of shelter. Poverty is being sick and not being able to see a doctor. Poverty is not having access to school and not knowing how to read. Poverty is not having a job, is fear of the future, living one day at a time.
Poverty has many faces, changing from place to place and across time, and has been described in many ways. Most often, poverty is a situation people want to escape. So poverty is a call to action- for the poor and the wealthy alike—a call to change the world so that many more may have enough to eat, adequate shelter, access education and health, protection from violence, and a voice in what happens in their communities.”

On a world-wide scale, there is a debate on how exactly to define degrees of poverty. Currently, poverty is divided into two types: Relative and Absolute. Relative poverty is when an individual’s income or way of life is far below that which is the norm in their country or place of residence. These are your neighbors that struggle to buy food at the grocery store or pay rent each month. These are the people who work to make a living wage off of minimum wage and part-time work. This is the kind of poverty we are familiar with in the United States-everyone can think of someone who has been effected by this kind of poverty.

Absolute poverty is characterized by a lack of basic necessities for survival: lack of food, water, housing, proper clothing, etc. It is the very extreme of poverty, the kind most of us can only imagine. It robs humans of their dignity, whittling them down to shadows of the people they could be, focused on only one thing: survival. This kind of poverty is most commonly seen in developing countries, the kind of poverty people think of when Africa comes to mind, and can be very difficult to overcome.

At the base of it, poverty is about deprivation. Poverty is the lack of access to clean water, medical treatment, or food. Poverty is the lack of education that prevents children from reaching their potential and forcing them to travel the same beaten track their families have traveled for generations. Poverty is knowing that no matter what you do, you’re trapped in a life you have no power to escape from.

What causes poverty?

There are many causes for poverty. Living in a county with a shaky economy can plunge even the most stable individual into gut-wrenching poverty. Children born into impoverished families have little chance of overcoming their circumstances without outside assistance, and many times are doomed to a life of hunger and neglect. Listed below are a few of the causes of poverty, although there are many, many more that I didn’t mention. When it comes down to it, poverty could happen to anyone, and the severity of how far you fall economically is measured by some of these factors.

Lack of education or skills-People with specialized skills or higher education are usually uniquely suited for specific jobs. However, when you come from a lower educational background, job opportunities just aren’t what they could be, because twelve other people cab fill the position you’re vying for just as well as you can.

Size of family-Having a family comprised of many members causes a lower overall income as well as higher living costs. Large family=large overhead costs.

Gender-In some areas of the world, being a woman severely limits financial opportunity. Women are thought of as ‘lesser’ or unqualified, and are usually refused employment. Widows and divorcees are forced to prostitute themselves or beg on the streets to provide for their families, usually putting themselves at risk to do so.

Disability-Illness or handicaps limit what kind of jobs an individual can get, making it difficult to find work. Also, in many areas of the world there are many beliefs and prejudices against handicapped people, forcing them to resort to begging as a means of supporting themselves.

Minority/Ethnic groups-Being a member of a minority or ethnic group can have a detrimental effect on your wallet. Because of prejudices, minority/ethnic group members are often the victims of abuse and are refused jobs due to their heritage. They are forced to resort to theft or begging in order to get by.

Living in a remote location-Because of lack of economic opportunity, people living in remote areas often have fewer economic resources available to them. The kicker is, even when the best answer is to leave it is not always possible-there just isn’t enough money.

What effects does poverty have world-wide?

Poverty has a far-reaching effect on the world stage. It has been linked to higher levels of violence and crime, the spread of disease, and heightened social tensions due to economic inequality. Poverty causes higher infant mortality rates and lower life expectancy in many parts of the world. It keeps generations of children from reaching their academic potential, dependent on the goodwill of strangers and their governments to maintain them. To quote poverties.org:

The vicious cycles of poverty mentioned before mean that lifelong handicaps and troubles that are passed from one generation to another. TO name just a few of these hereditary plagues: no school or education, child labor to help the parents, lack of basic hygiene, transmission of diseases. Unemployment and very low incomes create an environment where kids can’t simply go to school. As for those who can actually go to school, they simply don’t see how hard work can improve their life as they see their parents fail at the task every day.

Among those most affected by poverty are the most powerless: children. Since the 1960’s the amount of child affected by poverty has grown exponentially, and today, more than 1 billion children are growing up in poverty conditions-that’s 1 in 2 children in the world. Children are the perfect victims; they lack the social power to change their circumstances or even complain about them. Children affected by poverty are affected for life, whether it is their lack of education keeping them from advancement in future jobs or the malnutrition they suffered as a child.
   
How can I combat poverty?

What does this mean? Simply this: poverty is a problem that affects us all. We all live in societies with people who have been affected by poverty, and we all feel the effects of it, whether we realize it or not. Besides that, I would consider fighting poverty a moral obligation; not only for Christians, but for anyone who has a conscience and moral compass which points due north. That being said, here are some options for you to get involved in the war against poverty.

1.       Educate Yourself
You’re reading this blog, so you’re moving in the right direction. However, while I hope this is a good post that inspires action, I’m barely scratching the surface here. But don’t worry! There’s this wonderful thing called the internet that is more than capable of making  up for my deficiencies. Get online, and find out more about the fight against poverty and what you can do to make a difference.

2.       Serve
Maybe you’re one of the lucky few you aren’t bound by convention or social obligation to stay where you’re currently living; well, what are you waiting for?? Go serve! Find an organization, church, STM, Milk Brigade, and get moving. As someone who left my home for foreign service, I can tell you this: It might not be what you’re expecting, but knowing that you are helping to combat poverty in a real tangible way goes a long way to make up for all of the things you’ll miss about home.

3.       Organize
Are you one of those people that like to put together 5Ks and bake sales? Your services are needed! Here is a cause-ending poverty-so pick it up and run with it. God didn’t give you these wonderful organizational and administrative talents for you to waste them!

4.       Donate
When I say donate, I don’t mean indiscriminately. Do your homework, and find an organization that supports what you believe in. Remember to check their funding and what their funds go toward, to make sure you’re not helping to bankroll something you’re not morally on board with. Without people donating, there are no charitable organizations (or missionaries!). Your support is needed, and while it may be impractical for you to go out and change the world, there’s always someone doing it somewhere-help them out!


Here’s the deal, guys: poverty isn’t going anywhere. Jesus tells us in Matthew 26:11 “The poor you will always have with you.” We can’t solve this problem. We aren’t capable-it too big. There are always going to be poor people. However, we can help fight against it. We can raise awareness and let people know that there are people suffering out there in the world, and then give them something they can do about it. We can go out into the world and tell the people who have been rejected and abused their entire lives about a God who loves them and cherished them while helping them in real, practical ways. And for those of you who hear the words ‘International travel’ and go, “Eew,” here’s a thought for you:

Poverty is not just overseas. There are people in this world who are suffering where you are, as well. Get involved at a homeless shelter, at a street ministry or with an inner-city church. Look at the people around you and begin to think of ways you can bless the single mothers or fathers you know-you never know who may be struggling to keep going, who may be drowning in debt or unable to make their car payment this month. Keeps your eyes open and be in prayer to see how the Holy Spirit can guide you-I think you will be surprised at what you find.

I hope you enjoyed post #2 in my What You Don’t Know Can’t Hurt You series. Next month I will be tackling a new social issue, as well as continuing to post on my dramatic (she said dryly) life at Esperanza Viva. And, if anyone is hoping to see me when I’m in the States, drop me a line on Facebook-I’ll be in Minnesota Oct. 29-Nov. 13.

Sources
5.       http://www.poverty.com/

6.       Holy Bible, The

Monday, September 8, 2014

Caffeine Overdose

The next installment of What You Don’t Know is on its way, but I thought in the mean time you all would appreciate a dose of Alisha. And not just any old dose of Alisha, a dose of sleep-deprived, running on fumes and cookie crumbs, slightly irritable Alisha. Enjoy the caffeine-driven rant!

Before beginning my glorious career as a missionary/pseudo-parent, I was really not aware of how much I adored sleep. I mean, yes, I enjoyed those days when I didn’t have to get out of bed, and me and the cat could spend some quality time together. And I will be the first to admit that I don’t wake up well, and I have been known to occasionally hit people who have the temerity to wake me up. Hard. No one has ever called me a morning person in a non-sarcastic way, and while I have friends who embrace the dawn, their encouragement for me to do the same is generally not well received. That being said, I was in no way prepared for sleep and I to take (what feels like) a permanent parting of ways.

You see, when you have 11 children, it’s hard to sleep the whole night through. Someone always has a nightmare, or falls out of bed (Ingrid). Occasionally, beds get wet, and its occupant wakes up damp and cranky. Sometimes, the little girls get sick, and let me tell you-nothing gets you out of bed quicker than the sound of vomit hitting the floor. If you’re lucky, these events will occur early, and all of the midgets will be asleep for good by 10 pm or so. But the only thing you can really count on is that 5 am comes too soon, every morning.

I love those girls, but I really miss sleeping.

Sleep, this is a love letter to you. I want you to know: I’m sorry for all of the times I stayed up until 3 am. I’m sorry I didn’t love you the way you should be loved. I regret the way I took you for granted, thinking that you would always be there for me. I was wrong, and I can admit that. Sleep, I need you. I want you back. I’m not too proud to beg. Won’t you come back you me, sleep?

Be jealous of the dino mug. I know it's awesome.


This blog was brought to you by large amounts of caffeine and cookies. 

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

...And, WE'RE BACK!!! With photos!

Hey, guys.

So, I’m kind of struggling with how to get this started. Well, you’ve notice my absence, right? And if not-seriously, what rock do you live under?? Because, not bragging here (that’s code for, I’m totally bragging but its okay because its valid), I run a freaking awesome blog. So my disappearance should have been cause for some of you to, a) send annoyed messages complaining of my absence,  b) sob yourselves quietly to sleep at night, saying “Poverty Becomes You” in your sleep and causing your spouses to worry, unless of course they’re going through the same kind of withdrawal, or c) contact the American Embassy in Mexico City, because I’ve clearly been kidnapped by the Sinaloa drug cartel for my shockingly orange hair and other American attributes and am being held for ransom.

Seriously, guys. Not one of you contacted the Embassy. I’m hurt.

Anyways, I’m back. And, not only am I back, but I now have eight-yes, EIGHT-new little girls to tell you about.
From left to right: Abi, Satyuri, Erika, Ale,
Adriana, Jenny, Ingrid, Teresa. Front: Italia
Not pictured: Ada, Evelyn, & Karla
In the last three weeks, our dorm has grown from four to twelve, and since I know that 80% of the reason half of you read this blog is for the cute children, I’m just gonna upload some pictures here, and tell you about my new kids, as well as giving some updates about the kids that I’ve now had for over a year now (I KNOW!!!) For those of you who are looking forward to the thought-provoking content I’m generally known for (I hope), check back on PovertyBecomesYou next week. I should be getting back to my regular content posting schedule now that the summer is winding down.

Ale (10)

What can I say about Ale? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my little girl is growing up. And let me tell you, folks, I’m not a very big fan of this. We’re both having a hard time dealing with the onset of adolescence, but, at the end of the day, she’s still my Ale. Responsible, sweet, and caring-that’s my girl.






Adriana (10)


Adriana is a sweet girl. Now that she’s been here for a month, she finally beginning to open up and show us a little bit of who the real Adri is-and we like her! She is a very calm, very lovable individual. Adriana struggles a little bit with constantly being surrounded by people, but is very happy to have friends her own age.

Abigail (9)


Abi and her sisters arrived at the beginning of August, but it already feels like they have always been part of our family. Abi is headstrong and independent. She struggles with being obedient-she hasn’t had a lot of practice, you see. However, she is a wonderful little girl who enjoys playing on the swings and drawing pictures for her supervisors.

Karla (9)


You guys know Karla already! Being completely honest, Karla and Evelyn are having the hardest time dealing with the little girl invasion that our room has been party to recently. Karla is a little worried about all of the changes, and isn’t sure she likes all of the new people. The good part, though, is that she seems to be moving past that-she’s already made fast friends with Satyuri, and is having fun finally being considered one of the “big” girls. 

Satyuri (8)

This little girl has to be one of the friendliest individuals I have ever met. After having been here a day, half of Esperanza Viva already knew her name! Satyuri is obedient and respectful, and loves to play with friends, which to say, with everyone. The only thing is, she REALLY doesn’t like pineapple, I had the misfortune to find out. Otherwise, she’s flawless.



Ada (8)


Oh, my Ada. You will all be pleased to know that, out of all of my girls that I talk to all the time in English, Ada is the one that really seems to be learning. She talks to me in complete sentences! Honestly, I’m pretty sure she’s a genius. Okay, well maybe not, but I’m really proud of my little girl and her innate ability to talk. Which she does do, I should add, at every given opportunity-talk, that is.

Here's a more dramatic shot of Ada and Ingrid!





Evelyn (Almost 8)


Evelyn has spent the summer engaging in all sorts of Evelyn highjinks. I’m only going to list a few, but I think you’re going to get a good idea of how Evelyn’s summer has been going. 
She's bringing back the 'stach. Oh, yeah.
    This summer, Evelyn has:
    • ·         Painted her face with permanent marker to “look like a cat.”
    • ·         Started a circus in the dorm featuring herself as the main star and tried to jump from top bunk to top bunk while attempting to flip (I stopped her before she died, don’t worry).
    • ·         Taken to deliberately making herself fall out of bed because she “likes the thump,”and sleeping on the floor/under someone else's bed.

    I’m going to stop here. Evelyn injects the personality we so desperately need into our dorm, as you can clearly see.

                                                         Italia (7)


    Italia is a very loving little girl, and at the same time incredibly stubborn. Granted, none of my girls are complete professionals at listening, but Italia is only outshown by her sister Jenny when it comes to her ability to completely ignore you as you’re talking to her. It’s actually kind of impressive, when you think about. However, before you think I don’t love Italia, think again, because on top of her not listening, she is also hilariously funny. That kid keeps us all in stitches around here.

               Ingrid (7)


    The three words that best describe Ingrid are sweet, funny and loud. Ingrid is loud. She’s loud when she’s awake, she’s loud when she sleeps (she snores). She even moves loudly. Ingrid is also, as previously mentioned, very funny, and most of all, a deeply sweet little girl. She, like Satyuri, already has many friends and is fairly well known by most of EV at this point. Probably because she’s just that LOUD!



    Erika (7)


    Erika, just like Abi, is not really all that great at obedience. On the upside, she’s learning, and she makes up for her lack of open obedience but being very loving. Erika loves hugs, she loves to cuddle, and she loves to play. She is a lovely, sweet girl who is learning how to interact with others.





    Teresa (6)

    Teresa is the sweetest little girl of the bunch. She is a tiny little thing, six years old and still wearing a 3t or 4t, with the most hilarious little bowl cut that makes her look like a little boy. Just like a little boy, Teresa is fearless, and loves to jump off of things. She is looking forward to going to school and learning how to read, as well as the snacks that they serve in school, because she loves to eat! 
    Teresa was having a hard time letting go the other day








    Also, I deeply wish I had a recorder and could indefinitely follow her around and record everything she says-the child is hilarious. Please check my facebook feed at any given point for proof.


    Jennifer (5)


    Maybe you’ve heard me refer to Evelyn as the personality of the dorm, but Jenny could give her a run for her money. Jenny is a tiny little powerhouse of personality. She is tiny, loud, and VERY easily distracted, which leads to her supervisors spending quite a bit of time going “2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 11…who’s missing? Jenny? JENNY!!!” However, the benefit of a loud five-year-old is her being very easy to find.

    Here I am chilling with Jenny's twin brother
    Iran. He's a boss, as you can clearly tell.

    I’ll be straight with you, having twelve kids is hard work. We’ve had to get our act together more than ever before, because they vastly outnumber us. But having this many kids, while being a lot of work, also comes with a lot more reward. Every time I leave, there’s 12 little girl to hug me, 12 little girls to kiss me goodbye, and 12 little girls to tell me to come home again soon. So that’s a pretty cool feeling.

    Friday, June 27, 2014

    What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You: Let's Get Started

    One day, a few years ago, my friend and I decided to take a walk in the picturesque city of Antigua, Guatemala. We strolled out of the house we were staying at and walked down to the city square, eager to see more of the mountaintop town. Enjoying all of the foreign sights and smells, I noticed a small girl selling beaded necklaces to anyone who looked interested. Anyone who has spent time in third-world countries is familiar with people selling all sorts of random objects anywhere they set up; a few days later on the same trip, I bought a carved wooden flute out of a bus window during a traffic jam caused by a cow laying the road. However, there was something about this little girl that caught my eye.

    She was tiny, this girl. She barely came to my hip. More than her small stature, there was such desperation in her face as she called out to the passer-bys, “Necklaces! Beaded necklaces!” That was all she said, and small as she was, most of the people ignored her for the louder, more professional sellers in the same square. She kept shouting, even though her voice was hoarse. Of the few people who noticed her, one or two took pity and bought necklaces. She hoarded the coins they gave her eagerly, stuffing them in her pockets before glancing around to see if anyone was watching her.

    Maybe because she seemed so desperate, maybe because she was alone, I decided to talk to her. When she sat down, I took a seat beside her, my friend obediently following me. And when I asked her why she seemed so desperate, her answer was simple.

    “If I don’t sell, I don’t eat. I’m hungry.”

    Her name was Rosa. During the day she sold the necklaces that her mother made at night. What little money they gain was spent on buying more materials and feeding their small family. Since her father had left a few years ago, making and selling necklaces had become her family’s main source of income, and with a sick baby and an aging father to care for, Rosa knew her mother was barely to make ends meet.

    Rosa was the first child to tell me her story on that trip, but she wasn’t the last. During my time in Guatemala, I was inundated with children and the tales they had to tell me. It was through their eyes that I was forced to look at myself, and I didn’t like what I saw.

    I was rich, selfish, and worst of all, ignorant. My worldview had never been challenged before coming to Guatemala. I was secure in the knowledge that everything would be all right, that God would take care of ‘poor people,’ who for me had never really been anything more than an abstract thought, anyways. You see, I had adopted that attitude that so many of us have: I knew but I didn’t know.

    I knew there were children starving in the world, but I didn’t know what it was like to talk to a hungry child.

    I knew there was violence in the world, but I didn’t know the death-grip of a child’s hand as they explained to me how they had been tormented.

    I knew there was rape in the world, but I didn’t know the feeling of holding a thirteen-year-old rape victim’s tiny, perfect baby in my arms.

    And what I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

    Caring is a hard thing to do. Apathy demands nothing of us, and willful ignorance even less. But to care; to see a need in the world and be challenged to do something about it, to play a part in its resolution, however small-that’s so difficult. But it’s time for individuals, churches, and nations to take a stand for a world that’s hurtling off the edge of a cliff. It’s time for us to care.

    In this series, I will be talking about some of the global issues facing children in this day and age. I’m sure I’ll be a wreck through most of it, because children mess me up. I will be trying to paint a picture for you of what it’s like for those children who are trapped in lives that they can’t escape, be it hunger, slavery, abuse, or that ever-present beast, poverty, as well as giving information on organizations that are doing their part to help. I’m not going to make you do anything; I’m not going to guilt trip you into sponsoring a child or sending money to Africa. All I’m trying to do is make you care.

    Because I know that you will do the rest.

    What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Before I talked to that little girl, I was happy in my ignorance. I had no reason to find out more about what was happening to children in the world, and no intention of working with them full-time, either. My ignorance wasn’t hurting me.

    What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

    But it will certainly hurt them.

    Tuesday, June 24, 2014

    Let it Go

    I’m going to tell you a story. This story is probably about me, but could just as easily be about someone else-that’s not the point. This is a story about dreams, and obedience. This is a story about falling in love, and eventually falling out again.

    This is a story about letting go.

    The first time they saw each other, they both noticed someone else. She didn’t think he was very smart. He didn’t think she was very attractive. And then, they got to know each other. Suddenly, he was a lot smarter than she had given him credit for. Suddenly, he started seeing beautiful things about her everywhere, and started talking to her more just to look at her face.

    Suddenly, they both fell hard in love.

    Was it real? It felt real. All of the symptoms from any teen love song were there: obsessive thinking, foolish looks on their faces, empty promises. What else could they need? More than that, though, they knew. Because they had prayed. And God had answered-one of them.

    Since she had her answer from God, she could just sit back and relax, knowing that there was a divine stamp of approval on this blossoming relationship. Maybe she let herself get a little too emotionally involved; so what? It would all work out in the end-God had told her so.

    In the meantime, he prayed, too, and didn’t ever get an answer. But here was this girl who seemed interested and had assured him that this was meant to be, so it seemed okay. Well, okay until he started talking to another girl, and began to think about her pretty face instead of our heroine’s.

    You can see where I’m going here, right? Because like I said, this is not a unique story. And while I’m over-simplifying things, it’s a look at the way Christian relationships sometimes evolve.

    Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m all for Christian relationships. I believe that God is interested in every area of my life, and that He has a plan for my (someday) marriage that will reflect His glory. I’m fully on board with that. But, you see, there’s more to this story that you don’t know about.

    Once upon a time, a girl fell in love with a boy who said he loved her back. His actions spoke louder than his words though, and finally she had to turn away from him. She was devastated-she missed him-but what’s worse, she couldn’t let go of the hope that it would all work out in the end. Because God had told her that he was the one for her. So she ignored the smarter part of her brain that said maybe she needed to reevaluate a few things, and prayed and prayed and prayed.

    And he came back. He was there again, and he told her all the thing she needed to hear. He talked about the life they would have together, and how they would never let one another go; the things they would do, the children they would have-it was the fairy tale, all over again.

    He talked so much that it was hard for her to hear how he never really said anything. And though his plans were good, this time she couldn’t ignore the warning bells in her head when he started to talk to her less. She knew something was going on, and finally admitted to herself that he wasn’t really trustworthy. So she turned away from him again, and cut him out of her life completely, even though it felt as though she were cutting her own skin. And she cried for a long time.

    But God had told her that he was the one for her. So she got on her knees and prayed and prayed and prayed again.

    And he came back again…but he hadn’t changed. Instead of repeating this drama for a third time, instead of crying and praying, our heroine sat down and thought for a while:

    Is God capable of changing him? Yes.

    But is he changing? No.

    Is this situation glorifying God? Did it ever? …um-maybe? But probably not.

    Is it time to let this go?

    Sometimes we get stuck in repeat. We make the same mistakes again and again, and can’t seem to learn our lessons. And, I hate to say it, most of the time we tend to get stuck the most in relationships. Not because we’re stupid, but because we’re clinging to the idea of what something or someone should be, and not understanding what they are. There is joy in seeing possibilities in life and in people-it opens an entire world. But sometimes, you need to call a spade a spade and just let go.

    Since I assume you to be astute readers, I’m also going to assume you’ve deduced the identity of our plucky heroine. Letting go of that dream of him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I couldn’t accept that he wasn’t changing, that maybe the answer was really ‘no.’ If he wasn’t what I thought he was supposed to be, had I been (gasp!) wrong? Had I misunderstood God though the din of the hormones and wistful thinking and Disney music that accompanies falling in love? And if so, how could I ever trust myself to hear correctly again? The reality of the situation was so scary, and raised so many questions about who I was in God and how we communicated, I chose to ignore and to continue in my pathetic little emotional spin cycle.

    Bad news, people: Sometimes, we’re just wrong. It’s not God’s fault, it might not even be your fault. But it’s the truth. You are human, you are fallible, and sometimes, you’re wrong.

    It’s difficult to let go of the hard things, like bitterness or resentment. One of my roommates woke me up at 5:15am this morning blasting her music in the shower. At. 5:15. In. The. Morning. And then didn’t apologize. At all. I’m having trouble letting go of that serious breach of the rules of Early Morning Etiquette, although I’m working on it.

    As hard as it is to let go of that kind of thing (for me, because I’m petty, I know), it’s even harder to let go of things that used to be positive but have slowly warped into something else, something unhealthy and toxic. It’s hard to let go of dreams that you’ve held on to for so long, and understand that sometimes things…don’t happen. It’s hard not to let yourself be poisoned by them, or to look for someone to blame.

    Sometimes we make mistakes.
    Sometimes the answer is no.
    Sometimes things don’t happen

    Sometimes we need to let go.

    Just in case the message is not sinking in, here's my favorite winter-loving, ice-monster and annoying snowman making, singing queen of Arendelle to get the message through to you...have I even mentioned how much my kids love Frozen? We know all the words.


    Tuesday, June 17, 2014

    The Battle for Alejandra

    If you had asked me three months ago what I thought about Ale, I would have told you that she’s a sweet, friendly girl, with a stubborn streak and a strong sense of justice.

    If you had asked me three weeks ago what I thought about Ale, I would have politely asked you to change to subject because I couldn’t think of anything positive to say.

    What brought this on, you may ask? What caused me to alter my opinion so rapidly and drastically? Let me tell you all about our battle for Ale.

    Ale and her sister, Ada, arrived at Esperanza Viva last May. With their stepfather in jail, Ale’s mother was having trouble finding help taking care of her five children, and the girls were being neglected. From the start, Ale adjusted well to life in the orphanage and made new friends easily. She is a smart and friendly girl, and loves to help others. She seemed like a dream child.

    Then the real Ale started to show up.

    It started with little things, like telling the supervisors, “You’re not listening to me. I said it happened like this,” or refusing to do something that she thought wasn’t fair. “That’s not fair” became Ale’s watchwords. Having to do chores? Not fair. Studying for school? Not fair. Being grounded from playing on the playground for not doing the aforementioned tasks? Definitely not fair!

    The parenting books I’ve read assure me that this kind of behavior is not unusual, but still, I have to wonder how other people deal with strong-willed children. The strength of her reactions to the smallest things made me doubt my authority to come against her, and sometimes even made my doubt that I was right to correct her. Honestly, I didn’t want to correct her at all, because every little comment became a battle. Soon Ale began having screaming temper-tantrums that led me to wonder what had happened to that sweet, friendly girl that had first arrived at Esperanza Viva not so long ago?

    I think it must be very easy to start to doubt your ability as a parent in times like this. Doubt that you’re handling situations correctly, and doubt your own ability to have the consistency you know you have to have to combat them. Frankly, it’s exhausting, having to be prepared to battle all the time. But you have to keep going at it, head on, again and again, or the change will never come and you’re dooming your poor child to a life of being the way they are-be is stubborn, ignorant, lazy, indulgent or any other inadmirable mixture thereof-or worse.

    Our solution was to take away Ale’s privileges until she began to behave herself, to teach her that regardless of what may have happened in the past, here it was NOT okay to scream at, lash out at, throw temper-tantrums at, or answer back to, your authorities. We spent a lot of time with her, explaining why she was being punished; why we were asking her to do the things we were asking, and why all of this was a good thing. It took months for her behavior to calm down. Months. Months of daily skirmishes over disorganized clothing and appropriate tone of voice. And now that things have calmed down, I feel like we’re finally getting to see the real Ale.

    She is not the girl that she was when she first arrived here. That girl was scared, and was seeking a way to be accepted in a foreign place with strangers. When Ale finally relaxed and began to behave in the way she was accustomed, it became evident that her behavior needed to be corrected in many areas. And now that she has learned to behave, and understands why she should behave that way, Ale is morphing into an intelligent, helpful girl who goes out of her way to help others. Although her temper occasionally still gets the best of her, Ale understands that she needs to control herself and apologizes when she doesn’t. She no longer thinks her opinion is the only one that matters, and has really begun to think about the thoughts and feelings of others. Her strong sense of justice and fairness has begun to work on her behalf as she goes out of her way to include everyone in her games, not just her friends. Ale is a charming little girl, and someone who will change the world one day-just wait and see.

    I think what I’ve learned the most from Ale’s growing pains is that everything worthwhile takes time. As I tell every group that comes through Esperanza Viva in my Sponsorship Talks, none of these kids are here because their coming from a happy home. Even our most well adjusted, happiest children often times are coming out of situations wrought with pain, emotional trauma and many times, abuse. And while it’s difficult-so, so difficult-to be the positive source of discipline that they’ve probably never had in their lives, the end result is so, so worth it.


    And for all of you parents out there who have nine and ten year old girls, I sympathize. 

    Parenting should come with a 
    caution label.

    Friday, June 6, 2014

    Broken Hearts in the Blogosphere

    Those of you who are reading this (hopefully) know that I’m not the finger pointing type. I am an aspiring writer, coffee mug lover and self-admitted book addict, among many other things, but I don’t like to point my fingers and say “Neiner, neiner, you’re messed up.” It’s really not my style. My style is more to honestly proclaim my own faults to the internet and hope people can see themselves in my mistakes. People don’t respond well to confrontation, and if you’ve read my blog at all, you know I have no right to sling mud at anyone else, anyways, because I’m a mess. I’m just a mess that happens to love God and I write a lot.

    So this is how this works: I lay out stuff here on the internet that I’m dealing with, and if it applies to you, take it to heart. And if it doesn’t apply to you and you say, “Wow, Alisha is messed up,” well, hey, I just said that three sentences ago, and you’re unoriginal.

    The reason I’m pussy-footing around right now (LOVE that expression) is because I want to talk about something that’s going to maybe make you uncomfortable. I say this because I’ve been considering it for the past three or four days, and it has dang sure made me uncomfortable. I’ve even cried a couple of times; so much for my stoic image I have to preserve.

    I want to talk to you about love. Specifically, God’s love. Even more specifically, the shortage of God’s love that I demonstrate to others.

    I’ve been doing some trolling around the internet lately, looking at different blogs and taking notes, reading content and envying their readership. Yes, I’m a missionary, and that’s a pretty sweet gig, but it’s not all I am. In case you can’t tell from the volume of introspective posts on this website, I’m a writer. I’ve always written; it’s a compulsion for me. It’s my thought process. So, while looking around, seeing what’s on the web, I stumbled upon a blogging movement that’s leaving me staggered.

    There’s a growing movement on the internet of young people, ‘survivors of the evangelical church’ who have suffered spiritual abuse coming down from the pulpit. They are talking about their experiences at the hands of people who have twisted to gospel to suit their own purposes, some coming from fundamentalist cults, others from harsh, legalistic interpretations of the scriptures. Some of them, praise God, have been able to move past their experiences and are forming their own churches. Others are bitter and hateful towards the message of the gospel, calling it a ‘message of hate and intolerance.’ And while I’ve been reading the blogs of these people, I cannot help but notice the theme behind these rejected people who have been hurt and who are banding together in their rejection:

    It all comes from a lack of love.

    This was enough to get me thinking, and caused me to dig even deeper into the blogosphere. I read the blogs of people whose theology I disagreed with, hearing the pain behind their convictions. I read the stories of people who had been turned away from churches simply because they were different, or dirty. I wept when I found the blog of a gay man who was told God didn’t love him because of his sexual orientation.

    The bible says, “They will know you are Christians by your love.” Jesus spent his time with prostitutes, tax collectors, and children, among many others. In a time where touching the sick was considered contaminating yourself, he embraced them. To a blind man who was reviled from birth because of the ‘sins’ he must have committed, Jesus simply slapped some mud on his face and changed his life. He loved the people who weren’t important, people who didn’t really matter. He even loved people who were reviled-what self-respecting Jew spends time with prostitutes? And when his own disciples asked him “why?” Jesus answered,

    “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”

    Finally understanding the full implications of that sentence floored me, and caused me to go into a massive jag of privately going through my life as I tried to figure out exactly how much love had been missing from my life. I remembered situations where I lashed out, people I was unkind to-so many people-and all of the times I pushed people away instead of listening to them in the way I knew I should have. I was traumatized by the realization that it had been all about me for so long, I was barely able to love those I was around.

    I think what really killed me was that, if I were the only sliver of Jesus someone would ever see in their entire life, they would never see him in me.

    There are people out there who are starving for love that we refuse to even touch. I’m not talking about beggars in India or the children of the favelas who live in Brazil. If you were to go work with them, people would maybe wrinkle their noses or ask why you couldn’t just send them money, but they would get it. After all, God calls people to them, people like me. So that’s okay.

    But what about the teenage girl who is so starved for affection that they routinely sleep with guys just for some morsel of love? What about the homeless, people who’ve lost everything? What about gay people, who many times have been abused, cut off from their families and rejected by those who once told them they loved them? Where are we as the body of Christ for those people? Where am I? This is the question I ask myself, because I have known all of those kinds of people. I have known people so wounded by life that they were coming apart at the seams, and to my eternal shame I have done nothing for them. Maybe I patted them on the back and gave them a couple platitudes, but love? The kind of love that inspires an innocent man to die for guilty people? That kind of love never even entered into the picture.

    My heart is just so broken at the idea that I have twisted the knife in the back of the already wounded. It makes me feel sick, how callously I have behaved towards the hurts of others. And I want to tell you that I have a plan to make this better, but I really don’t. One of the things I’ve learned in the last year is that quick fixes don’t really last. Hurting kids don’t get their hearts healed in 6 months; sometimes 6 years barely makes a dent. All I have to share is this realization of how very little I’ve ever done to show my love for others, of how often I’ve been part of the problem instead of the solution, and the firm resolution not to continue to live like that.

    Because if you can’t see Jesus in me, what’s the point?


    If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything as plain as day, and if I have the faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t have love, I’m nothing. If I give up everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.  1 Cor. 13:1-7