Dear Mercedes,

I have dreamt of working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata since I was an 8 year old girl. Seeing this dream fulfilled makes me think of who I was then, before trauma and confusion entered my life. Also recognizing who I am now, and why that trauma was so valuable in the end. In honor of this, I wanted to write a letter to 8 year old Mercedes. 

Dear Mercedes, 

You are such a beautiful soul. It was only a year ago when you had the dream that became your calling. I know you spend the days thinking about different ways you can help others. Don't ever let that go. Your love for others is what will carry you through the most difficult parts of life. 

Keep learning with an open mind. The world is vast and you have so much to see, never let the opportunities for growth pass you by. You will find that the directions you least expected to be fruitful are the ones that will define you. 

Let yourself feel the full spectrum of emotions, even the ones that don't come naturally to you. I know anger, fear, and jealousy are uncomfortable for you. But you need those emotions to stay alive. When you close yourself off to your own feelings, you become numb. I can assure you numbness is the greatest pain. 

Never believe them when they say you are broken or defective. Your life is not a mistake or an afterthought, it's an expression of Love. The cracks you acquire are where the Light comes out, treat them with tenderness and respect. Resist the urge to cover them up and pretend they never happened. 

Always help others with a smile. At the moment you realize you're no longer smiling, step back and take the time to help yourself. You are a force to be reckoned with when you are healthy and whole, but your sickness has the potential to destroy yourself and others if you leave it unchecked. 

Thank you for being who you are- you have taught me how to love myself. 

Sincerely,

Mercy (age 23) 

P.S. You will have the curly hair you dreamt of one day. 

Clean the Sacred Spaces

Being in Kolkata has been a whirlwind of emotions. I am not only fulfilling a lifelong dream, but also coming at a time of critical discoveries in my life. I am coming to terms with what the next season holds. Coming to terms with the little girl who dreamt of Mother Teresa all those years ago, learning that she held the future all along. I walk around with joy on my face and a lump in my throat, constantly overwhelmed with paradoxical emotions. 

When those emotions become to much, I go to Mother Teresa's tomb. I cry and I pray and I learn. Her tomb is the ultimate sacred space, simultaneously exposing and healing wounds. 

Today as a few of us left mass a nun asked if we would come help her clean out the room where the tomb is. She closed the door and we began- sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, wiping down the tomb. 

In that moment it became painfully clear to me what the next season will be- it will be a time of cleaning the sacred spaces. Doing work that is not in slums or crowds, but behind closed doors. A time to stop producing and creating, but instead gently finding order among chaos. It will be lowly, dirty and difficult- but through it all things will be made new. 

Three Crying Babies

Right now I am working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata. In the afternoons I am in a home for severely handicapped children who are orphans. 

These children are the epitome of beauty and authenticity. They have no concept of hiding emotions or living anywhere but the present. When I hold them and smile they smile back with all of the joy their bodies can contain. Some of them can't contain it in their bodies, and they begin to shake and shriek in excitement of the moment. 

But then I have to walk away, to change another diaper or feed another child. That's when they begin to grieve. Once again they are overcome with the emotion of the present. Those who can't move weep, those who can't cry convulse. 

I spend these hours trying to balance bringing love with the pain they inevitably feel when I walk away. 

On one of those afternoons I was struggling to balance two baby boys. Each of them would cry if I put them down and calm down once they were held. I spent some time trying to go back and forth from holding one to the other. Until I finally managed to cradle one in my left arm and the other in my right. As soon as I had soothed them both, another child in front of me began to cry. 

It took everything in me to contain my tears until I made it home. Because in this moment something I have held all my life was made clear. 

I have always felt like I was made to sit in suffering, share the burden, and alleviate it with love. But there is so much suffering in this world that I cannot hold one thing without letting another go. I want a cause to give my life to, yet I am drawn to all of the causes. I feel it all so deeply that I can't manage to hold on to any one thing. I get caught in this cycle of pouring myself out until I am so empty that I have nothing left to give.... 

So what do I do? 

Sometimes I get angry at God, I curse the universe for exposing me to suffering that I feel so deeply but cannot resolve. 

Sometimes I get angry at others, I resent them for being able to choose apathy when I am being torn apart with empathy. 

Sometimes I get angry at myself, I lie and tell myself there's no point in carrying on if I can't carry it all. 

But being here in the presence of Mother Teresa's work I am realizing that there must be another option. I think I've been drawn to her all my life because this is the lesson I must learn time and time again- that all we can do is be love and be present. The beauty of Mother Teresa's life was that she always focused on the small things, on the one person in front of her. When she sat with a leper, she gave all of her energy to that leper in that moment. She did the same with the Pope, with children, with the dying, with her sisters. Whether she was in places of joy or suffering, prestige or lowliness, honor or humility- she was always there fully. She didn't resent others or herself for being what they were. She didn't agonize over which struggle was hers to engage with. Instead she simply sat so fully in the presence of God and others that eventually she became a mirror reflecting Christ back to each person she sat with. 

Maybe I don't have to learn how to hold three babies at once. Maybe I can hold one child with all the love I have to give, and for that moment that will be enough. 

Belonging To A Tribe

Right now I'm in the Northeastern mountains of India. We are staying with tribal people called Rongmei. We climb through mountains to meet families and churches, we eat with our hands and follow other customs. Honestly it's the cliche "missionary experience" I always imagined as a child. And it's wonderful. The culture is full of rich and historic meaning, everywhere you turn there is new beauty in both the people and the landscapes. 

Hearing their stories and living their way of life has me thinking a lot about belonging and tribes. I hear a lot of authors and speakers from the States talk about "finding your tribe" or "belonging to a tribe". This beautiful practice of doing life with people who can understand where you've come from and where you're going, people you're safe with. 

I see so much power behind this. Standing alongside brothers and sisters, looking back at all you have overcome and learning through generations. Being with people where you have a sense of belonging and purpose, mantras and chants and ways of living. So many great movements begin with a tribe saying they collectively choose to live a better way. 

But with that I also see the danger of tribal thinking. I see how some are excluded because they don't follow the tribes way of doing or seeing things. I see how tribes become echo chambers in which we all become pleased with the uniformity of our war cries. 

It seems like tribal culture can give life to those who have lived under oppression, it is a foothold to reach up and find your worth as collective souls. But when that same tribe becomes those in in power rather than the oppressed, tribalism becomes a weapon of destruction. 

I'm not talking specifically about this tribe in India, I'm talking about humanity. Throughout history, so many religions, nations, and people groups have moved from belonging to each other in times of oppression to using their collective power to oppress others. Look at America-- what once was a tribe of misfits seeking new opportunity and justice is now seen around the world as a war-hungry nation of greed and ignorance. Or Christianity-- what began as followers of radical inclusion and love without limits is now seen as people with picket signs and megaphones excluding those of various gender/sexual identities and ethnic backgrounds. 

As I reflect on belonging and finding a place in the world, I'm asking myself- Do I want to belong to a tribe? And if so, what tribe? Emergent Christianity? Monasticism? Missionary life? Secular humanism and science? I love all of these things, yet claiming any one as my home tribe feels like a rejection of the others. 

Spiritual leaders I love speak about being able to "transcend and include". How do we transcend the exclusion of tribalism while including the richness of shared histories and sense of belonging? 

I don't have a grand eloquent closing for this post, so I leave you all with a paraphrased passage of Advent that I've been contemplating recently- 

Isaiah 2:1-5

It shall come to pass that the mountain of God will be established above all mountains and hills, and all nations shall flow to it. 

Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go to the mountain of God. Let us learn God's ways and walk God's paths." 

For out of Zion shall go forth the law and the Word from Jerusalem. 

Disputes among many nations shall be settled. 

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. 

O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of the Lord. 

May those of us from all tribes trade our weapons of war for tools of new life. 

Uncertainty- A Dream Come True

In a few days I am going on a trip to India. I'm going with two missionary families, one family from Cambodia and the other from India but serving in Cambodia. I'll be there for an entire two months, and will be doing so many different things throughout several states. We will be building homes for families facing persecution, teaching at churches in different parts of the country, running a kids camp, joining in an Advent program, and so on... To finish it all off, I'm going to spend a few months on my own with Mother Teresa's Home for the Dying in Kolkata.

You see, I have wanted to go to Mother Teresa's center since I was about 8 years old. As a child she was the person I most looked up to, my favorite celebrity.. I have read countless biographies about her and her work. I hoped that one day I would be able to save up enough money to at least go see her center where it all started.

A few months ago I decided I wouldn't put off this dream any longer, after all I'm already on this side of the world. I told my boss and dear friend that I wanted to take some time off to go to India and spend a couple weeks at Mother Teresa's center in Kolkata. My friend laughed in surprise and  proceeded to tell me that their family was planning a trip to India and could use the help, she asked if I could come with them and stay after to visit Kolkata.

Now here I am, about to go do that which I always dreamed about... and so much more. I am finding that it is not only my dreams that are coming true, but more is being added to them. I never even thought I would be able to stay with local families rather than at a hotel, I never considered being able to travel to multiple states of India rather than only one. It is all so much more than I ever could have imagined.

Along with all of these new opportunities come new uncertainties as well. I'll be giving a sermon to hundreds, which scares the living daylights out of me. I'll be unable to work for money and left hoping it works out. I'll be sharing personal parts of my story with strangers. At the tail-end when I go to Kolkata, for the first time in my life I'll be alone in a city where I don't know a soul. It is all so much.

And let me tell you, it is 100% worth it.

There is so little we can be certain of, only so much can be held in these small hands of mine. Any experience that can be perfectly planned out and understood is too small to change you. I'm finding that when everything goes according to my small plans, I miss out on so much. These transformative moments cannot be planned or manufactured. The dream come true lies in the great unknown.

I get the sense that these next two months will be something I look back on for years to come and say, "that fundamentally changed who I am". I have butterflies in my stomach like one often does at the beginning of a grand adventure. And I know that so very much of it will not go according to plan.

So bring it on.

Life in Community

I was sick this past month with Dengue Fever. It was an extremely difficult experience. I can honestly say I have never been so sick in my life, walking even 4 steps left me breathless and weak with my heart beating out of my chest. During this I didn't even have the strength to sit up for more than 15 minutes at a time. I was completely and truly helpless.

And you know what else? I was surrounded by community. Friends who heard I was sick messaged me to check in on me. Others came to my home and prayed for me. One of my dearest friends even brought soup and other foods to help me gain strength again. My roommate checked on me regularly and cooked and cleaned for me for over a week. When I began to recover my roommate even brought a rolling chair into our kitchen because I couldn't stand for long but wanted to be able to get my own food. I was completely overwhelmed at how people cared for me and came alongside of me.

I've always been someone who wants to serve, but was afraid to be served. I usually get into community to be near others, but then keep them at arms length when my own weakness comes up. The people who have surrounded me here in Cambodia have completely destroyed all of the walls I built around myself with their persistent love and caring.

When I first came to Cambodia I realized I needed to learn how to let others help me. Throughout my time here that lesson seems to come up again and again in different ways. I'm learning to not only be okay with being helped, but to love the back and forth of true friendships. There is a beauty to having people who we can lean on in tough times without feeling guilty, and having them feel the same toward us. We are made to live this way, to live in community.

I'm not saying it's easy- it's hard to be vulnerable and expose your weakness to others. But I have found that it is in my weakness that true strength arises. By letting go of my need to be my own hero, I find that I have more people caring for me than I ever could have hoped for. We are more together than we ever could be on our own. That, my friends, is the beauty of life in community.

Grant me the serenity

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The Serenity prayer, I remember first hearing of it when I was in a 12 step program in my teenage years. Since then I have repeated the prayer to myself in particularly difficult times. 

Today was one of those times. Those moments when your heart is broken so deeply that you have to beg God for the strength to make it through. 

I was in a village that my organization recently began reaching out to. As usual, I would ask to hold most babies I came across. As I held one particular child, the woman who handed him to me began to gesture as if she wanted me to go away. She pointed to the child and pointed to me and gestured for us to go. One of my Khmer coworkers and friends began to listen to the woman and translate to me what she was saying. 

The child was her nephew, the child of her younger sister. The mother was barely 17, the father in prison. They were a shame to the family because they weren't married. The baby boy had asthma and there was no way for them to afford additional medical bills. This woman was asking me to take the child as my own. As we stood there she began to become more adamant, as the child looked at me she would gesture to me calling me "mother". It was all I could do to hold this sweet boy without crying. 

In these villages I stick out as a foreigner, I've been in places where people have "joked" about selling their child to me so the child would have a better life. But this was the first time where they were completely genuine, asking me to just take the child and give them nothing in return. I held this unwanted baby in my arms, wishing I could tell him as he grows that he is always infinitely wanted. 

As I held him, I begged God for serenity.... the serenity to accept that I cannot take this beautiful boy from his community. The serenity to know that there are "unwanted" children like him all over the world that will never even be held. Serenity to keep me from falling into a puddle on the floor because it is all too much. 

In that moment, I was reminded of the beauty of the serenity prayer- that it moves beyond acceptance of what is into courage of what can be. 

So I will continue to ask for the courage to change the things I can. I will be brave enough to wake up each morning and resist the urge to turn away from suffering. I will courageously love these children for the moments I am with them, without worrying about the time when I won't be around. I will continue to invest in and support this organization I love that is going to support this community for years to come, long after I have moved on...

In these moments I cry out in grief and hope- God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.