I might actually be good at this...

I know I said a couple weeks ago that I'd write a post updating you all on what has happened with my medical situation, and I really have been trying to...for the past two weeks...  And it's just become this long, rambling, and fairly incoherent post with no actual point.  I'd be happy to give actual details to anyone who really wants to know, just Facebook me or email me or whatever.  But suffice it to say that I went back to my old doctor at the University of Chicago and he had a solution...a solution that scared the shit out of me (due to a horrendous past experience), but by the power of Jehovah alone, I was able to get through it.  And for the past two weeks, I've been relatively pain free...for the first time in about three months (except for the fact that I'm going through major narcotic withdrawal, which is never fun).

But that's not the reason I'm writing this.  I'm writing this because, yesterday, I went on my second hospital advocacy call with the DC Rape Crisis Center.  And it was...intense, to say the least, but it also served as an amazing reminder of where I'm going and what I need to be doing with my life.  And it re-confirmed that I might actually be good at this...

Since school ended I've been focusing pretty much all my attention (with the exception of studying for and taking the LSAT) on my political interests.  I've been interning at EMILY's List, an organization that works at all levels, (national, state and local) to elect pro-choice democratic women.  Furthermore, working at this incredible (and remarkably influential) organization, I've begun to believe that my next step after graduation (this coming December) may be working on a campaign.  And this place can get me there  After asking some former interns if they had any specific advice regarding how to get onto a campaign, the thing which stuck out in my mind the most was one of the former interns saying, "Think about and write down the five names of the people on whose campaigns you would most like to work.  Then talk to people here [at EMILY's List].  They'll make it happen."

 My jaw is still kind of on the floor after that one.

See, when I applied for this internship, I knew that I loved EL and that it had a great mission and had done some cool things.  I had absolutely zero conception of their reach.  I didn't know that the President of EMILY's List, Stephanie Schriock, was the campaign manager for Al Franken.  Yeah, that campaign.  I had no clue that Denise Feriozzi, the director of the WOMEN VOTE! department (basically, EL's Get Out The Vote arm) was the Field Director for Hillary Clinton's Iowa Caucus race.

This place is incredible, and there are so many people here that I can learn from and so much to do that I agree with and love doing.  But...

There's that little thing in the back of my head that I know: This just isn't my passion.  Yeah, I love it, and in so many ways I'm obsessed with it, but it's not my calling.  It intrigues me, amuses me, and excites me, but I don't have that guttural need to do this.  Not like when I'm touching on anything to do with combating sexual violence.

That's where this past weekend comes in.  As many of you probably know, I'm a volunteer at the DC Rape Crisis Center, and I take both crisis hotline calls and hospital advocacy shifts.  Well, on Saturday I had an advocacy shift and, for only the second time since starting, I got called in.  Now, as usual, I can't actually talk about details, but needless to say it was a very intense call.  But beyond all that, for me, it was a remarkable affirmation of who I'm meant to be, of everything I'm meant to do.  Because this was my second time going on an advo call, I was confident enough about where I was going and what I was doing that I could actually just settle in and trust my instincts.  And as I've seen many times in the past, that's when I actually can do a good job.  After the major portion of the call was over, I had a moment alone with the SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner), and even though throughout the call I thought I had been getting very mixed signals from her, she actually told me that I had done a really good job, and she was shocked that it was only my second call.  Later, as I was spending a few final minutes with the survivor, she told me that I had made the whole process much easier for her and that she thought I would do a great job as a sex crimes prosecutor.

I'm not repeating all of this to try and toot my own horn or brag or whatever.  It's just that as I'm getting deeper and deeper into the political world, I love remembering what my true calling is.  And I need to remind myself that politics isn't it, as much as I may love this crazy world of American politics.

Oh, and by the way: I'm an American citizen now.  It's very weird...

It's not about me

Yesterday, I had a really, really good appointment with my new primary care physician.  We now have a plan for going forward, for figuring out what's causing this.  My pain is now firmly under control.  It spikes every once and a while when I overdo it, but I can usually just take an oxycodone, and it gets back under control.  I'm back in classes (actually in a class right now.  shhhhhh...don't tell the professor), and feeling like my normal life can actually resume.

On Monday night, I took a hotline shift (for those who might not know, I volunteer for the DC Rape Crisis Center and help staff their 24 hour crisis hotline).  Because I've been taking hotline for quite a while now, I actually felt fairly comfortable dealing with the two calls that I got (due to confidentiality reasons, I can't share anything about the actual calls).  But I think what felt even better than that was the fact that, for the first time in practically two weeks, I was able to completely forget myself.

I wasn't talking to these two people about my own present pain levels or my medications or my search for doctors or answers.  Instead, I was simply spending three hours of my life being ready to listen...and counsel...and encourage...and empower...and just listen.  Listen to people who, at that moment in their lives, had no one else in their lives who could just listen to them.  So I was that person for them.  And it had nothing to do with me.  It was all about them.  And it felt so amazing.  To shed my own problems and concerns for a while and just be there for someone else.

It made me realize how much I don't like it when everything is focused on me.

Because that's not the point of my life.  I dedicated my life a long time ago to helping people, to making the lives of people who have been through horrible trauma just a little bit better.  And spending the last two weeks just focused on myself has been in such opposition to who I am, and what I care about.  It's been so draining. And I really don't like it.

I understand people's urge to ask how I'm doing, to find out if I'm in pain, to ask how they can pray, to see where the doctors are at in finding an answer.  I get it.  And if I were in their shoes, I would be doing the same thing.

But I miss being able to just have normal conversations.  To talking about how other people are doing, how classes are going, what's happening in current events, or even about the weather.

I want it to not be about me.

There is hope in the world.

So I had a 9-5 training session with DC rape crisis center today, and it was "isms" day (as in sexism, racism, etc.). This has by far been my favourite session so far, and I just wanted to tell a quick story told by the executive director of DCRCC which I thought was really cool:

First, background: Denise, the executive director, is a Caucasian woman who's partner, Donna, is an African-American woman. Donna has a daughter from a previous relationship whom they both raised. Now the story: When this daughter was about 5 years old, she was sitting on both Denise and Donna's laps, kind of in between them. Denise and Donna were holding hands across the lap of the daughter. Donna asked her daughter, "Which hand is Mommy's and which hand is Denise's?" The daughter accurately identified their respective hands. Then Donna asked, "How did you know?" Pointing to her mom's hand, the daughter said, "Because this ring is yours and this ring," pointing to Denise's hand, "is Denise's."

This five year old girl was so blessed to be able to live a life entirely oblivious to the idea that someone might be identified by the colour of his/her skin. To her, it was just as mundane as a person's shoe size, eye colour, or birthday. They are all just things which you are born with, but which do not, in any way, make you who you are.

Denise's hope, and mine as well, is that soon we will come to a day where most seven year olds don't yet see skin colour as a defining characteristic. And then eleven. And then 16. And maybe somewhere down the line, our great, great, etc. grandchildren will be able to live in a world where not a single person (or at least not the vast majority of people) will look at a person and see first their skin colour and then the rest of them.

Maybe one day the same will happen with the rest of the "isms" which we talked about: Sexism, Classism, Ageism, Heterosexism, Cisgenderism, Ableism, Faithism, Nationalism, and Lookism.

Maybe that's too much to hope, but I'm not giving up.

Old Revelations and New Commitments

So I think three major things happened on retreat:

1. I broke down and realized that I can't follow my life's calling on my own; I need to rely upon the strength and love of God.
2. I'll never be able to hear God's voice if I'm not regularly listening.
3. I need to stop focusing so much on myself and where I'm at with God, and instead focus on how I'm serving, ministering to, and loving others.

Now, in light of that last point, the whole idea of blogging about my thoughts seems kind of counter-productive, but I think it's important for me to solidify what I believe God is teaching me by allowing this semi-public forum to hold me accountable.

Well, I think the biggest (as in most overwhelming) thing which happened on retreat is that I finally got to a point where I knew that I couldn't volunteer at DCRCC on my own. The last time I tried to tangibly tackle these type of issues, I was consumed by the fight. I became depressed, started cutting and became suicidal. And I know for a fact that, if I try to counsel and advocate in my own power, I will return to that place. And that thought terrifies me. But silence isn't an option; apathy isn't a choice. After laying this issue on my heart again, God asked me, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" My heart and mind, voice and whole body cried out: "Here I am. Send me!" This fight has already captured my heart, my soul, and my future, and I can never turn away. These two realizations (my inability to fight on my own and my inability to turn away from the fight) was overwhelming and heart-breaking. But I think that it was a necessary place for me to get to. Because once I got to that place, I was able to realize that, although I cannot fight this battle on my own, as my verse of this year says, I have the Spirit's very power, love, and mind within side me. If I rest in Him, if I let God's love and not my own flow through me and into these broken people, instead of consuming me, this fight will make me soar.

For this reason, I'm contemplating getting "Love" tattooed on my forearm (in cursive, white lettering), right underneath my scars. This is not my love, but the love of my Saviour which will stop me from picking up that knife again, no matter how inadequate I am to love these people.

The second thing which God has really been teaching me over the past several weeks, months, and even years, is that He can never talk to me if I'm not listening. It's when I read and know His Word that I have any chance of growing in knowledge of God and following the call of His Spirit. Yes, my life is insanely busy right now. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted; the very thought of waking up one hour earlier or staying up one hour later to truly connect with God seems to drain me. Even though I know how much more refreshed I feel when I do, especially in the morning. I have to learn to be disciplined.

Finally, I need to stop complaining about not hearing God's voice, stop spending all my time trying to muddle through the convolution of my brain instead of focusing on serving and evangelizing those around me. I am rarely one who talks about or even, in all honesty, thinks about evangelism. But, certain people (cough, cough, Kera, cough) have truly gotten to me by bringing one simple fact to my mind: if I truly believe that some of the people around me are going to hell, then, how much must I hate them to be perpetually silent about my faith? Now, I have no clue what this looks like. I will never be one of those fire-and-brimstone, "let's go burn a Koran for fun," wack-o Christians. It will just never happen. But I do know that it looks like more than what I'm doing. I need to truly figure out where my convictions lie, and then stick with them. I also need to not shrink back from the awkward conversations, the difficult discussions. I don't know how to have those discussions organically. I'm very new at this whole being bluntly open about my faith thing. But I really am going to try. And I ask anyone who interacts with me regularly, whether you share my convictions or not, whether you think I'm crazy or not, to hold me accountable to what I'm saying. I will be no where near perfect. I'm sure I will fail much more than I succeed. But I am publicly committing to changing, empowered by the overwhelming power, love and disciplined mind of Jehovah Jireh.

Worries, Conundrums, and New Adventures.

So I'm two weeks in to my training to be a volunteer counselor/advocate at the DC Rape Crisis Centre. We did our first hotline call role-play tonight and it was both one of the most terrifying and exhilarating experiences of my life.

I've been waiting to do this for a long time now: find a way to tangibly help those affected by sexual assault and rape. I am devoting my life to this cause, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm actually making a difference.

I'm worried though. The reason why I chose to go down the route of prosecutor and not counselor is because I'm the type of person who needs to get into the fight. I'm also a firm believer in the criminal justice system and in bringing the perpetrators to justice. Yet my role as a hotline counselor and hospital advocate is not to push the survivor in any given direction but instead just to be there, to listen, and to provide resources and information. It's not my job to give advice or to tell the survivor what I think that they should do. I found that trusting my instincts is really helpful on hotline calls, but how do I make sure that I suppress my instinct to push the survivor in the direction that I think they should go?

I have this incredible call on my life and passion in my heart to help the least in this world. I can't shut it off. It doesn't go away after the time and tears and years and fears. And yet despite this passion inside, the actual physical actions which I take on behalf of my fellow man so far have been minuscule. I've been on a couple missions trips. I support a couple kids. I rally for a few causes. But the majority of my life right now is lived in the waiting, in the preparation, in the academic. It's the nature of being a student: preparing for the life you truly want to live (or at least for the career you think you want). As many of my professors have said, this is the one time in my life where I will have the freedom to ask the questions, the time to philosophize and wonder, the encouragement just to think and to learn. And it is undeniably and unquestionably one of the favourite parts of life.

So my life right now is a continuous conundrum: frustration at living in a state of perpetual suspended animation, waiting to be able to pursue my true passion, all the while absolutely adoring living within the hollowed halls of academia and not having to actually step out into the real world of hard work and true responsibility.

I'm also wondering if there can be such a thing as true altruism. Can a person truly do something for another person(s) out of entirely selfless motivations? Or am I only volunteering at DCRCC to gain a new set of skills, to enhance my resume, and to get a good feeling inside? I'm contemplating going on a missions trip to Greece this coming summer, but I don't want to go if my only motivations are selfish. Obviously, when it comes to any trip to an amazing place like Greece, there's going to be some selfish desire to see the country, but I honestly do care about the cause, and I want to make a difference. Is it selfish to want to get first hand experience dealing with an issue which I am passionate about? Can one person on one missions trip through one church really make any difference? Or can the only purpose behind short term missions be egocentric? Do we do it to feel better about ourselves, to feel less guilty about our wealth and our comfortable, easy lives?

I wrote this poem several years ago about the idea of giving away money to a worthy cause (fighting AIDS in Zambia) just to assuage our own guilt, and it keeps popping into my head:

I’m not writing this to ride you down with guilt
Until you crawl home and drop a bill
Into a little orange box
With pictures of smiling faces you’ll never know.
Just so that you can once again forget
That there is life beyond
Your megamalls, iTunes, and facebook blogs.

You’re continually spoon fed messages
That if you just
DO SOMETHING
You’re better than everyone else
In this wretched, immoral world
But does it really make you better?
When you know what’s really going on
Yet feel that your job is done
Once those coins hit that box?

Yes, it’s true that every penny helps,
But when we spend 5 dollars every day
On coffee alone,
I have to ask, are pennies really enough?

The average person in this blissfully ignorant country
Spends more money on coffee every day
Than millions of people live on in a week
And it just doesn’t seem right.

Yet every day I hear another one boast:
“We’re the best country in the world!”
And I have to ask,
How can you be so ignorant?

Even though God demands our first 10%,
As a supposedly Christian nation,
You can’t even muster 1%
To save the lives of their dying children!

But, wait, I forgot:
You’re spending that money
Finding new ways to kill your children.

You spend your millions
On the perfect body, car, and clothes
While another one dies
Because you can’t spare enough to save her.

Or maybe you do save one,
And you think it’s enough
So you return to the comfort
Of your American Dream
And you press on in the hopes that one day –

But what if you tried something different?
What if you thought about that woman?
Who loves her kid so much
That she would knowingly subject herself
To death by AIDS
Just so her little girl can eat for one more day

She makes the same amount of money
Selling her body on the streets
That you carelessly throw into that box
At the end of every day.

What if, for once, you loved this woman?
Who has more love in her
Than you could ever hope to have
Even though she has nothing in this world.

We always claim that, by giving a dollar
We’re being Jesus to these people,
But, truly, who’s more like Christ?
The one who drops their pocket change into a little box
Just to feel better about themselves
Or the one who lays down her life for her daughter?

Truly, whatever you do for this woman,
You do for Christ.

So I’m not going to tell you what you need to do
You already know
And it doesn’t involve going home
And emptying your pockets
Into a little orange box

Stop talking, and start acting.
And never stop.

Because even though life goes on for you,
If you don’t make a difference,
Who will make sure her life does to?

So never stop.

I don't want to become the very person that I'm frustrated with in this poem. I don't want to be a person who just gives a few dollars and maybe a few hours just so that I can move on with my life without feeling guilty.

I want to be the type of person that truly can act altruistically. But does volunteering at DCRCC qualify? My guess would be probably, but what about this missions trip to fight human trafficking in Greece? It reminds me a little of the missions trip that my high school youth group went on to the Bahamas several years ago. I didn't go with and one of the reasons was because...well...the Bahamas? For a missions trip? Really?? And I think part of my has that same reaction to the idea of Greece as a destination for a supposedly altruistic venture. But the fact of the matter is that Europe is becoming a stronghold for human trafficking and the A21 Campaign is doing phenomenal work there. So I guess I just need to check my motives. And find out more info about what NCC will actually be doing there.

But maybe I'm over-thinking all of this. Jesus said, "Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me." I believe that every individual on the face of this earth is made in the image of God and thus deserves equality and deserves justice. So if I can bring some little bit of justice and/or equality to the lives of those who have been sold and trafficked as sex slaves half way across the world, then count me in. Jesus doesn't say "Whatever you do for the least of these as long as your motives are entirely altruistic, you do for me." I think I just need to keep getting out there. And keep doing something. And never stop.