We. Are. Broken.

Artwork by Andy Baughman

There aren't words. Only broken hearts. Broken families. Broken societies. A broken world. Broken. We. Are. Broken. When we should be coming together, building each other up, we tear each other down with harsh, hateful words. We are families spewing hate at each other for the whole internet to see. We are friends attaching unfair strings on our friendship. We are a country that can't see past political party. We are leaders using tragedy to increase our own power and influence. We are the Pharisees, willing to kill the innocent in the name of staying comfortable. What are we doing? 

I don't want to ask how we got here. History is so important, yes. But what I do want to ask is how are we still here?  I used to look at the Israelites in the Old Testament and laugh at their foolishness and complete inability to learn from their history. I don't do that anymore. Now I shake my head because I see myself in them. I see my family in them. I see my city in them. I see my country in them. We say, 'look how far we've come!' Not. Far. Enough. I went to a panel on anti-racism a while back and one of the panelists was talking about implicit bias. She said she saw a group of white people jogging through her neighborhood and she called up her friend saying, "You wouldn't believe the group of white people I just saw running through my neighborhood!" to which her friend replied, "Ok, and?" Her point was, there's nothing notable about a group of white people running together. But if the roles were reversed, if there were a group of black people jogging through the neighborhood, people would stare, people would wonder what they were 'up to,' someone might even call the police. The whole room felt that. We were all there to pursue anti-racism in our lives and to learn how to encourage those around us to do the same, and we all knew she was right. We all knew that we were included in the people she was talking about. We haven't come far enough. Not even close.

So, here we are. We see that it's rotten, shameful, unacceptable, and that it's tearing us apart in our families, our friendships, our country and our world. A coworker recently said she's been really struggling to feel 'proud to be an American' right now. I feel that. So how do we make a difference? How do we be part of the solution? Where do we even start? We have to work on ourselves. I heard someone say that being anti-racist doesn't mean that you don't have any implicit biases, it doesn't mean that you're perfect, it means that the moment you recognize an implicit bias within yourself, you call it out. You dig. Where did that come from? It's deep down in there. You throw Truth at the lies that live deep inside of you telling you that someone is somehow less because they look different. Less safe. Less friendly. Less capable. Less lovable. Less of a human. These. Are. Lies. Lies that have burrowed deep down beyond our awareness. But as soon as their ugly little heads pop up, we have to be willing to play whack-a-mole like we never have before. We have to force ourselves to continue walking on the same side of the street (except for maybe right now with social distancing measures in place), keep our eyes up and even say hello with a warm smile. We have to let our purses hang off our shoulders the way we normally would. We have to show our kids how to love people. All the people. We have to have those conversations with our kids, with our friends, with our families, with our coworkers, with our churches. I admit, I am guilty of avoiding the conversation. I'm guilty of playing the Asian card and saying I couldn't possibly harbor any racism because I too am a POC (p.s. I don't love that term). But if I'm honest, I've had every white advantage in my life. The very fact that I have the luxury of being able to place myself in a white crowd and fit in says I don't know anything about being a person who doesn't look white in this country. I am so sorry that I have put my comfort and sense of belonging over the safety of my black brothers and sisters.

Let us be people who are okay with being uncomfortable. Let us charge into the awkward because if we don't, we'll never get better. We'll never stop killing innocent people because they look 'suspicious.' We'll never stop assuming that our brothers and sisters with black skin can only ever be skilled at entertaining us, whether through sports, comedy or soulful jazz. We'll never stop unfairly punishing black children in schools and handing out labels like 'problem child' for things that white children don't even get lightly reprimanded for because the white kids are 'just being kids.' We'll never be a place where people who don't look white feel safe inside their own skin. I'm not okay with that. I choose to be uncomfortable. I choose to make eye contact. I choose to use my privilege to be part of the solution. Right now there is so much brokenness. But our right now doesn't have to be the right now of our kids and their kids after that. Our right now needs to go into the history books and never be repeated. We must learn from our history. We must not try to bury what we've been and done. We must be uncomfortable for the sake of justice. We must take responsibility for making sure the future isn't like this. Black. Lives. Matter. Why do we keep acting like they don't?   

Some thoughts on abortion and how this world is in shambles

Very rarely do I post anything related to current events. Here's why: all the hot topics make people crazy. Friendships and family relationships are broken because of the stances people take on these issues. That's wild to me. It's wild to me that the current climate in this world, especially this country, is such that someone's belief about something doesn't usually lead to a mature conversation, it leads to people spouting what they believe without truly listening to what the other is saying and then relationships are irreparably damaged. A person's stance on a single topic can cause others to make assumptions about their entire personhood. When did this happen? How did we end up like this? I recently went to a panel on anti-racism and one of the panelists said that we will never be able to move forward until we learn to have empathy for those who don't look like us. And I think that this gets to the heart of a ton of the current issues. At their core, the issues aren't about abortion, race, politics, or immigration; the issue is that we don't have empathy for people who don't look, think, or live like we do. When someone says or does something that I don't agree with, this culture tells me that I have every right to ignore their words and to think of them as lesser human beings; I have every right to spout hate at them; I have every right to define their entire personhood by that one belief that they hold or by that one action that they took. What?! How is this not what everyone is talking about? How is this not what advocates for change are pushing for? 

I say all this because I think it's applicable to most all the crazy things happening in this world and country right now, but also because I want to establish that it's from this mindset that I'm writing what's next.

I don't think that abortions should happen. I think it's heartbreaking that women so often find themselves pregnant and unready or unwilling to bring that child into this world. But I don't think these restrictive laws will do anything whatsoever to address the reasons women find themselves in these situations, nor will they provide any support for the women forced to have these babies. I think that abortions will always happen, regardless of the laws surrounding them. I think that by taking away safe ways for women to have abortions, we're saying that the life of their baby is more important than theirs. I think that especially by only addressing abortions themselves and not putting any efforts into sex education, more accessible contraception, and social services for women who might not want to get an abortion but feel like it's the only real option for them, we're not actually valuing the lives involved, we're valuing our birthrate. I think that by making abortions entirely a women's issue and completely ignoring the role men play in getting women pregnant (I'll give you a hint, it's usually equal, if not more, than than the role women play), we're giving men a pass and backtracking so, so, so, so, so, so far in the work women and men alike have put into women's rights and equality over the years. I don't think that excluding women who have had or are planning to have abortions from the group we call "us" is the way to address the reasons there are so many abortions performed each year. I don't think abortion is right, but I do stuff that isn't right all the time, so who am I to judge?

I've seen so many memes and posts on social media in the last few days that have really resonated with me. I've seen things like "Hey GOP, these kids [in detention centers at the border] have a heartbeat, where's the legislation to protect them?"--"Why are we so adamant that a fetus is a human being when we're still not sure if African Americans are?"--"If men could get pregnant, abortions would be readily available at every gas station." This is trash. This shouldn't be. We don't have an abortion problem, we have an empathy for others problem.   

Are we fighting for issues or are we fighting for people? There's a huge difference.

   

Why being bilingual is a blessing and speaking Spanish is a curse

¿Cuándo voy a hablar en Inglés como ella? 

Es que no entiendo nada.

I teach English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL, for short) to adults. It's a blast! I never thought I'd enjoy a job as much as I love mine. I love getting to know my students and spending time with them as they chug along on their journey in pursuit of a solid handle on the English language. I love trying all the wonderful foods my students bring to our potlucks, I love having inside jokes with my classes, I love seeing how willing everyone is to help out their classmates even when there's a language barrier. I love seeing people gain more confidence in how they use English and I absolutely love hearing my students tell me about their successes. Many people assume that I teach kids, but I've never had that desire. Every time I've taught kids (or tried to), I've felt like a frustrated failure, like no one in the whole world could be worse suited for the job than me. During my master's program at UW, I got to teach a class in their international English program. It was so fun and I learned more than I ever could have dreamed I would, but I knew it wasn't the context in which I ultimately wanted to be teaching. These were students who came from all over the world to study English for a period of time and then move on, whether that meant going back home or moving on to another country. I knew my heart was with immigrants and refugees who were here for the long haul and who needed English skills to build a better life for themselves and their families. So that's where I looked after graduation and that's where I find myself now.

I studied Spanish for one year at Tacoma Community College while I was studying there through the Running Start program. I was 16. I loved it! I loved learning how to say things in another way, I loved that I knew something no one else in my family did (youngest child syndrome--always following in someone's footsteps and always trying to forge your own path), and I loved learning the rules and being able to do more than just repeat memorized sentences and phrases. After I got my BA, and before I started my MA, I went to Guatemala for a year to study more Spanish and to teach English (ain't nobody tryna spend the time and money on an MA if they don't know if they really wanna go into that field or not!). I took private Spanish lessons for 5 hours a day, 5 days a week, in addition to living in a not-so-touristy town where Spanish was almost always my only option for everyday survival. Having that experience, having to use Spanish to get where I needed to go on the bus, rent an apartment, renew my visa, perform transactions at the bank, rent rooms for my family when they came to visit, get the meats I wanted from the butcher, etc. really gave me an idea of what my students today are going through. Of course, I didn't experience even the beginning of what they all are going through. I wasn't fleeing my home country, or even leaving my home and my comfort seeking a better life for my family. I was just trying to experience the world while I killed a year of time (not really, there was more intentionality involved than just that). But I had to learn Spanish by using it and, in that sense, I understand where my students are coming from. I think this really helps me in my teaching. I think that by having learned out of necessity and forcing myself into situations outside of my comfort zone and always having to negotiate for meaning, I can empathize with my students in their struggle to always be negotiating for meaning. I believe that I have been made into a better teacher for having experienced language learning in a foreign land.

Here's the kicker: the majority of my students come from Spanish speaking nations. I'm constantly struggling between making a better connection with them by revealing that I speak Spanish and forcing them to use English as much as possible by not revealing my familiarity with the language. Most of my students know I spent time in Guatemala and that I speak Spanish and sometimes I regret them having this knowledge. You see, I have this belief that you learn a language better if you use it and I have a few students who will only speak to me in Spanish, despite me always responding in English. I have some students who use my Spanish as a crutch and refuse to let go, even though they ask me almost daily when their English will improve (in Spanish, of course). I have some students who continually tell me they don't understand (in Spanish) and then continue to ask me question upon question about what we've been working on in the lesson because they didn't understand and, instead of letting themselves be comfortable with not understanding everything, they chatted with their neighbor during the whole lesson. You see, I have this other belief that it's not fair to all of my students who don't speak Spanish for me to re-explain everything in Spanish. It is not a beneficial use of class time for them, plus it doesn't push the Spanish speakers to be uncomfortable, to be stretched. I am at constant battle within myself because I know that I could easily explain something in Spanish and I know that my student would be grateful in the moment, but I also know that doing this robs them of an opportunity to learn and I also think that doing this doesn't push me to be the kind of teacher I want to be. 

So there's my dilemma. I know that I'm a better teacher for having learned a second language in a place where I needed that language to survive, but sometimes I wish I had learned a language that isn't so common. Sometimes I wish I had all the experiences that make me a better teacher, without having an easy out for a lot of my students. I also recognize that, by speaking Spanish, I do have a stronger connection with my Spanish speaking students. I recognize that it's a bit easier for me to build rapport with them and, when I'm teaching, I know which English words to use that are similar enough to Spanish words that my students will understand. I am not trying to discount the advantages that Spanish affords me. I'm just trying to be the best teacher that I can be for all of my students and I don't think that means allowing my Spanish to be used as a crutch.  

A man after God's own heart

If you've ever met my grandpa, you know the kind of man he was. If you've never met him, but you've heard me talk about him, you know how important he was in my life. You know that he loved Jesus with his whole life and you know that he lived generosity and humility every moment of every day. You know that he had seemingly unending patience (I sure do! I'm pretty sure I wasn't the easiest child to deal with sometimes, but he always had grace to extend to me) and that he always had something sweet to share, whether it was candy, donuts, ice cream, or a sweet word. You know that he had the best practical jokes and you've never looked at a pancake the same way since the first time you had his pancakes. If you've ever met my grandpa, you probably loved him. You know that he lived his whole life waiting for the day when he would meet Jesus. If you've ever met my grandpa, you know that he will be incredibly missed by all who knew him. But you know that he died in faith, not having received the things promised and that he's now in heaven, with more joy than he could have ever dreamed of and he's received all that was promised and more. If you've ever met my grandpa, you know that he and my grandma were like two halves of a whole and that he'd been missing her something fierce for the last two and a half years. If you'd spent time with my grandpa during those two and a half years, you know the he sometimes couldn't remember that she was gone and often thought that she'd gone on some trip and hadn't called for months. If you'd spent time with my grandpa during that time, your heart broke every time he said something along those lines. You know that, even in his memory-challenged state, he was never unsure about what God had called him to here on earth. If you've ever met my grandpa, your heart is overflowing with joy on his behalf because everything that he ever hoped for, everything he ever dreamed about, everything he ever worked toward, has come to fruition. If you've ever met my grandpa, you can easily picture him walking up to the throne of God for the first time and hearing God welcome him saying, "well done, My good and faithful servant."



Never have I known another such man. Never have I seen another such love for others. All others. Never have I heard another man preach the love of Jesus with such conviction. Never have I seen such generosity. Incredible generosity. Heaven got to welcome home the best of the best on Good Friday. The sacrifice of Jesus and His victorious resurrection had never meant as much to me before as it did this year. My heart is sad that I won't get to see my grandpa and tell him that I love him and hold his hand again this side of heaven, but my sadness is nothing compared to the joy I know that he is currently experiencing. How can I nurse a broken heart when I know that his is fuller than it's ever been? I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to go visit my grandpa every year for the past few years. I'm so grateful that I got to tell him that I loved him every time I left and that every time I left, I knew it could be the last, so I never wasted a goodbye. I'm grateful for the time I got to spend with both of my grandparents and for everything that they taught me. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without having them around and I am so full of joy knowing that they are together again, and with God, whom they lived their entire lives for. My heart is broken and full and that's ok.

Mom!

Train up a child in the way they should go;

even when they are old they will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6

My mom is the best of the best! She raised me to respect others, to love people the way Jesus loves people, to clean up after myself, to take responsibility for my actions, to be independent, to have a passion for life, to have patience with people, to listen well, to be a good student.....the list could go on. Who I am today has been shaped quite extensively because of her. But here's something I've been thinking about recently (not, by any means, for the first time): I have a lot of moms. There are so many women who have poured into my life throughout the years: my stepmom, grandma, aunts, Sunday school teachers, friends' moms, youth group leaders, camp moms...again, the list could go on. I have been surrounded for my whole life by the most amazing women who have taught me more than I will ever fully realize. All of these women have cared about me enough to give me advice, invite me into their homes, include me in their comings and goings, pray for me, laugh with me, teach me life lessons, and even cry with me at times.

My mom never ceases to amaze me. She raised us four crazy kids, she taught us at home until we started college (sure, she gave us a little push to do Running Start so that college would come a bit earlier for us...), she ran us all over town for our various sports and play dates (do people still say that?) and youth groups, and she always, always modeled for us the love of Jesus. But one of the greatest gifts she has given me was letting these other women step in sometimes. Now, bear with me here, letting might sound a little controlling, but I think there's a certain grace that's needed to open up the door to your kids' lives and let other adults pour into them. And maybe I'm just being an oblivious kid here and thinking that my mom had absolutely no problem handing over the reins from time to time, but I think we all know that one parent that keeps their kids locked away (not literally!...I hope) so that they're the only ones who can have an influence on them. My mom was not one of those parents and I couldn't be more grateful to her for that (and my dad too, but this is about mother's day and moms so....for another time). 

I've done a lot of things in my life without my mom holding my hand the whole time. I think I'm naturally a pretty independent person (you wouldn't know it from the fact that I still live with my dad...but, again, for another time) and my mom has never tried to squelch that. She's supported all my big life decisions, even if she was maybe a bit apprehensive about some of them (like me going to Guatemala by myself for a year), and I don't know that she's ever told me I can't do something (as an adult, I'm sure as a child she told me I couldn't do a lot of things...like touch the hot stove). Basically, what I'm trying to say is that my mom is bomb.com and so is every woman who has taken the time to do life with me. 

Happy Mother's Day to you wonderful, wonderful women!! 

I am who I am today and I have the dreams and goals that I have because of who you are and the impacts that you have had on my life. There will never be enough words to express my gratitude.