Open My Eyes, Lord

Every once and awhile, there comes a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.  A moment that makes you realize how little you know or how much you’ve taken for granted.  A moment that changes the way you see things:

The other day, I was arranging the jumbled, dirty, all-out-of-sorts storage room in the school.  I love to clean, and organizing is fun for me, so I was happy to have the job.  I danced around to Taylor Swift as I sorted through the materials.

                I thought I was being over-carefully “mission-minded” regarding our resources: 

I saved half-used notebooks with scribbled-on covers because there were blank pages; 

I saved partially-destroyed textbooks because there was some readable material inside; 

I saved every filthy waterlogged box because we can use the cardboard…  You get the idea. 

And I had to fight the urge to throw away all of these things that took away from the look of perfection I was striving to create.  I was sure that what I trashed was truly useless garbage. But what happened next has brought serious reflection on my mission here:

***

I brought the garbage outside and told the kids to take whatever they wanted and burn the rest.  When I gave them free reign on the trash can, you would have thought I just told a bunch of 10 year olds I was taking them to Disney World for a month.  I can’t describe their jubilation.  At first I smiled at their simple, almost silly, happiness.  But as I watched them whip through the contents of the bin, checking for hidden treasures, my emotion started to shift.  They shouted with delight as they found what their stupid, careless teacher had discarded: half of a broken crayon, a tiny piece of chalk, a string, the insert to a pen, a bead, part of a balloon, etc. 

There were also some gems too good to be true that (in all their honesty and goodwill) they brought back to me saying, “Sister, this one’s good.”  An alphabet book had to be put back on the shelf, which devastated the child who had found and fought for it.  I took a calendar back before realizing it was from 2012, and when I returned it to the boy, he literally jumped for joy and screamed at the top of his lungs before racing off to show anyone/everyone.  This was a child whose family could not afford him even one new shirt for Christmas.  That old calendar is probably the biggest ‘gift’ he’ll get all year

***

As I looked around at the faces of children in a state of ecstasy over a trash bin, I suddenly found myself intensely saddened. “This is the face of true poverty," I thought to myself.  “It’s not necessarily the grim, despondent expression on a person staring into the lens of a UNICEF camera.  It’s in the over-elation of these children, right here, right now.”  Tears stung my eyes as I stared at my kids proudly holding up their prizes.  I felt a wave of guilt.  I had danced around to cheerful music as I dumped the “useless” items into a pile of things to be burned.  I was happy to get rid of these things.  I had wanted to get rid of so much more.  All of a sudden, I felt disrespectful.  And ignorant.  And a slew of other things I've had trouble sifting through in the days since.

Later, I thought of something I had written down at orientation (in red ink no less) as something to be constantly aware of: “Social analysis: what is really going on here and why?”  I realized that a) I don’t know, and b) I haven’t even really been paying close attention.  Talk about a challenging recognition.

I have always said that what I want most in life is to Understand.  And coming to South Sudan has been the biggest step I've ever taken in that endeavor.  I want God to open my eyes, I mean really open my eyes, to the realities of life here.  But at the same time, I am afraid of what I will see.

December Celebrations

Here in Africa, people rejoice.  A lot.  In the past month, I’ve sung, danced, laughed, and cheered more than I thought I ever could in such a short time.  It has been wonderful!  I will share with you the top three celebrations.

Centenary
                I spent a few days in mid-December celebrating the Centenary, 100 years of the Catholic faith in this diocese.  It is a crazy thought, that out of over two thousand years of the Church, people here have only known Christ for a hundred.  The faith is young, and in many ways, it is still “on the skin”, but the people have the passion needed to push it forward into the next 100 years and beyond.
                The celebration was huge - 10,000 people.  Most arrived in the back of overcrowded pickup trucks or on bicycles, and a great number of people walked - for 4 days.  And this is South Sudan, so there were no hotels, restaurants, or indoor bathrooms.  People set up tents, ate what they carried on their backs, and made do with what they had.  Some had a piece of cardboard to sleep on and nothing else.  But they didn’t care.  The only thing that mattered is that they were there to celebrate their faith.  Amazing!  There was so much JOY present.  I was overwhelmed  by the sincerity of everyone around me.  The buildings at the site were decrepit, but the people could not have been more alive.
                The masses each day went about 5 ½ hours and included a mass wedding, ordination, and performance of the first missionaries' arrival.  There was a procession of a giant crucifix brought around to each parish’s campsite.  It paused for everyone to kneel, and then the members of that parish joined the crowd moving to the next.  That’s how life should be lived, in my opinion.  People taking time to acknowledge God’s presence in their own lives, and then joining the journey of saints, bringing Christ to those closest to them.   We also did a walking rosary and then danced into the wee hours of the morning.  That’s how faith should be lived, in my opinion.  Part solemnity & deep personal prayer, part communal merriment & joy lived out-loud. 
                HOW blessed am I to be part of a very first Centenary celebration of our faith?!  Talk about a once-in-a-lifetime experience!!!

Centenary vestments.

People kneel before the crucifix.

Christmas

                This Christmas celebration was different from past years.  It was without the one thing many people associate most with Christmas - wrapping paper littering the floor around the tree.  The people here want only one new shirt of skirt for Christmas (the only one they will get for the year).  That's it.  So simple, so humble.  And so terribly heartbreaking, some cannot even afford that.  No one got 3 meals, much less a Christmas feast.  So the day was about one thing and one thing only: celebrating the birth of our Lord.  Inspiring.  Challenging.  Thought-provoking.  Beautiful.
               At Christmas Eve vigil mass, In front of a packed church,  I attempted a reading in Zande.  I butchered it beyond recognition, but everyone was very nice, nobody laughed, and they cheered for me anyway.  I vowed to do better next time.
                Christmas night, we had a celebration at the convent.  Much to my surprise, we all got gifts.  It’s kind of like my being here, in a way.  Before I came, I expected to have a wonderful time.  I expected to be with amazing people.  But I didn’t expect all the extra blessings I’ve gotten.

The tiny nativity scene Aunt Fran gave me in 2010.
It has kept me focused all season with its simplicity.

The nativity scene in front of the altar in the church.
Its glowing lights pierced through the dark,
guiding all to worship on Christmas Eve night.  

New Years
                Wene Vuvu Gara (Happy New Year)!  I rang in the new year in a t-shirt.  This in-it-of-itself is a magical, wondrous, news-worthy thing.  And I have my lucky number 13 in the year.  But these small gems took a back seat to the fabulous celebration that took place here on New Year’s Eve night.
                We started singing at 9pm, had Adoration at 10, and mass at 10:30.  At midnight, we held a mock-trial for the fate of 2012, represented by an 9 foot tall scarecrow-like Old Man.  He was found guilty and sentenced to death by being burned at the stake.  Then we splashed some gasoline on him and lit him up.  Flames 12 feet high turned my gaze upwards.  It continued until I was taking in all the majesty of the stars above.  I got to thinking about how much I am loved.  Both by my family and friends who support me being here, and by God who makes all things possible.  I will never understand the depth of that love, or why God has given me more than I could ever imagine (and certainly more than I deserve), but I am endlessly grateful for it.
                HOW blessed am I to be part of such culturally-rich and faith-focused African New Year’s celebration that blended worship and festive silliness?!  How amazing is it to finish one year and start another inside a packed church?  Perfect.

Peace out, 2012.

The Old Man Grace made for us.

Burning the past.

                2012 had its share of bumps in the road, but ultimately it was very good to me.  It changed my life by changing my location.  2012 brought me to South Sudan, brought me here to Africa so that I may live my dream.  And now I start this new year here where my heart has been for so long.  The year ahead is full of promise and endless possibilities.  It is my hope that I will continue to grow in my faith, learn about myself, be challenged, practice patience and humility, and find the capacity to love, love, love.  I have made a few small new year’s resolutions (don’t oversleep and don’t be late, to start), but my main commitment this year is very simple:  Be God’s tool.  Be Jesus’ hands.  Be a vessel through which the Lord can communicate His undying love for humanity.  And as I cannot in my own strength do this, nor even with a hope of success attempt it, I look to my Father and ask for the gift of the Holy Spirit. 



I gratefully thank you, dear readers, for your company on this journey so far.  2012 was a wonderful adventure.  I hope 2013 will be even better, and bring you as much happiness as your life can hold.

A Reflection on Advent

 Part I: 

                When we had German visitors stay with us, one of them asked to talk with me about what Advent is like in South Sudan.  It got me thinking about what this season means in the cultural sense.

                There is not much of a “pre-Christmas” feeling here.  When we had an end-of-the-school-year party, we blasted Christmas music; it felt absurd.  Some of that feeling is because it was 95° outside instead of 35°, true enough.  But it’s more than that.  To me, the holiday season is about a focus on family, precious time spent together reliving old memories and creating new ones, and appreciation for what we have in life.  And how do we experience these things?  Through family traditions.

               We cut down Christmas trees.  We get out ornaments that send us skipping down memory lane.  We bake gingerbread cookies.  We string bright lights outside our homes and light warm fires within.  We awe children with tales of St. Nicholas, and spend untold hours getting gifts ready for loved ones.  These are the things that spell out “Christmas”… in America.

                In South Sudan, there are no Christmas trees.  There are no ovens.  There is no electricity.  Santa’s reindeer don’t know the way here.  Coal is a valuable resource used for cooking and heat.  There are no shopping malls, and “every kiss” certainly does not “begin with Kay”.  The Christmas feasts to which we are accustomed look a little different here – “breakfast, lunch, and dinner?!  all on the same day?!?” – but the vast majority will not get even that small luxury. 

                So it feels a little different, being here this year.  The Advent season seems less hyped-up, less significant, less holiday-ish.  Almost as though Christmas might be an afterthought that follows “oh hey, today is Tuesday”.  But that feeling is a result of looking only through the lens of Culture.

Part II: 
                 As I (jealously) skimmed over Facebook statuses of those headed to Cape May for Advent Retreats, I got to thinking about what this season means in the religious sense.
                 This year, I appreciate much more than I ever have before the meaning of my parents’ favorite bumper sticker:  Keep ‘Christ’ in ‘Christmas’.  In years past, I was embarrassed by this brazen declaration of religiosity.  I said, “Happy Holidays” to avoid offending.  I set up nativity scenes all around the house, but was not moved to prayer by the absence of the infant Christ.  This year, I am empowered by my faith.  The pendulum has swung the other way.  The carols I sing are about Jesus, not Santa.  I’ve been trying to unwrap my heart for God, not wrap gifts for relatives.

                In a way, Advent here is a lot more work than it has been before.  Here, I must prepare my spirit to welcome God.  That’s much more complicated than preparing a wreath to welcome guests at the front door.  And it’s much easier to clean a house than it is to try to wipe a soul clean.  But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?  That I can’t clean my soul – only He can.  I need Him to come, this infant child who would save the world.

               So it feels a little different, being here this year.  The Advent season seems more purposeful, more significant, more holy.  Almost as though Christmas will provide all the hope necessary to get us through the next 364 days – the hope of the Light of Christ.  I believe it will.  And I will continue to keep that at the very forefront of my mind.  After all, “He is the reason for the season.”

A Month of Change

The last month has been overwhelmingly busy, which for me is a good thing.  Some very big things have happened here!

Big Event #1: Our Sisters Arrive!

                The first exciting thing was the arrival of our Sisters on November 11^th.  Four Visitation Sisters of Don Bosco (VSDBs) were scheduled to come work here in Maridi way back in July.  But they kept getting delayed over bureaucratic red tape in their native India (problems with their passports, I was told).  So when I heard they were actually in the car on their way from Juba (where they’d flown in to), my heart leapt for joy.

I knew I was eager for them to join our community, but what I felt right before their arrival and for the rest of the day took me by surprise and overwhelmed me.  From the moment they stepped out of the car, I LOVED them in a way that seemed to surpassed human love.  The only explanation I can offer is that God was LOVING them directly through my own heart.  LOVING them with a force and authenticity that could only have come from Him.  To be a vessel for such indescribably powerful emotion was … unreal.  I do not understand why God keeps allowing me, keeps choosing me, to have these experiences, but I gratefully yearn for more.

The Sisters’ arrival was intense.  Their car stopped a few hundred yards before the house so they could take part in the parade – yes, parade – that welcomed them.  I thought I was overwhelmed when 20 children greeted me uppon my arrival!  The next day, we had a school mass of epic proportions.  600 people jammed into (and sat outside of) our small church, each adding something spirited to the service.  The villagers had asked what they could offer to the Sisters, and were told food was a good option.  I think China could have fed its people for 3 weeks with what was laid at the Sisters’ feet.  The rest of the day, they sat as Distinguished Guests on the platform of the school, not unlike queens lovingly surveying their people, as everyone in Manguo Parish honored them with songs, tribal dances, speeches, and a girls’ football game.  I was so happy when they joined in on one of the dances.  It set a great tone for how awesome they’d be to have here.

I moved into the brand new convent with them and got re-settled for the third (and hopefully final) time in South Sudan.  (Momentary pause: I live in a ‘convent’.  How cool does that sound?!?)  In the weeks since, I have enjoyed every second I’ve gotten to spend with them, and appreciate them more with each passing day.  They are so spirited, so lively, so holy, kind, nurturing, genuine, exuberant, motherly, humble, hysterical… the list goes on ad infinitum.  They brighten my world so much with their presence.  I almost can’t imagine what life was like before they came.  And it’s nice for the women to outnumber the men, too J.

The Sisters get adorned with African garb.

Big Event #2: We Inaugurate Our New Hospital!

                The Salesian presence has only been here a couple of years, but in that short time they’ve built a church, a school, a convent, AND a gorgeous (and huge) Health Center.  We held a ceremonial mass to bless it on November 20^th.  A lot of work went into organizing such a huge event, and thankfully it all came together perfectly.  The Bishop presided over the mass along with our priests.  The ECS Bishop took part as well, showing strong support and cooperation between our faiths (ECS = Episcopal Church of Sudan, the other Christian denomination prevalent here). Nearly 100 of our children received sacraments, 22 of whom were anointed - which means they came from the ECS Church into our Catholic faith.  (The two faiths are very similar, but the biggest difference is a crucial one:  Protestants believe that the Eucharist symbolizes the Body of Christ, which he gave the 12 Apostles at The Last Supper.  Catholics believe that once a priest blesses it, it literally becomes the Body of Christ.)

The guest list for the event included the Acting Commissioner of Maridi, Ministers of the Interior, Education, and Health, and the Governor of our state, among others.  It was video and audio taped for television, radio, and print news.  It was (as one would imagine) a very – BIG – deal.  And I got to sit front-row, in the best seat, and play photographer for our community.  I got to be a real part of something monumental.  It was an extremely humbling experience.

                The Minister of Health said that South Sudan has the worst healthcare of any country in the world, and that our state has the worst healthcare in South Sudan.  It made me realize how truly vital our hospital will be in bettering the lives of the local people.  Made me realize how much God is blessing us with the ability to make an impact on this growing country.  And I got to witness its very beginnings.  Again, so deeply humbling.  Then during his speech, shocking us all, the Governor handed one of his cabinet members an order to grant the Salesians with more land (“within 7 days”) to continue furthering our mission here.  We are already building a great Hall next to the hospital, and our next project (with the new land) will be either a secondary school or a technical school so that our students can continue their education with us.  We have the support of the government, we have the support of the people, and  most importantly, we have the support of Our Heavenly Father.  What an amazing blessing to be an SLM here in Maridi at a time like this!

The bishop blessed my BEDROOM!
Talk about a once-in-a-lifetime experience :)

The Bishop delivers his homily underneath a banner
that reminds us of our mission.

Big Event #3: Our New Brother Comes!

                Bro. Julius joined us from the Democratic Republic of the Congo about a week ago.  He hit the ground running, and his dedication to the boys was clear from Day 1.  Except when he is sleeping or eating, he is with the children (and sometimes he skips the eating).  He's already coaching football for both the "big boys" and the "medium-sized boys" and wants to assistant-coach my girls' team as well.  He brought with him a new ball and even orange cones!  Together, we will build great teams!  But much more importantly, seeing how he interacts with the children, I have already learned so much.  Each evening as I journal, some new inspired insight hits me, some positive, others challenging.  In my time in Africa, I have grown as a person every single day because of the amazing people I am surrounded by.  But this Brother, I think, will be a particularly significant person for me to follow.  I can’t yet describe the effect observing him has had on me, but I feel something stirring within me (the Holy Spirit?) that is both inspiring and peaceful.

Other Happenings:

The End of School:

                The end of the school year came fast and furious, and I was put in charge of organizing and typing all the exams.  I got to revisit something I learned at Orientation:  “Even when you are not directly interacting with a child, you are directly impacting and bettering the life of a child.”  Keeping this in mind made me grateful for being able to do my work.  A wise friend once taught me to replace the phrase "I have to" with "I get to".  Very quickly, the one-word-change shifts perspective on everything!  (Try it.  Seriously.)  I will admit, frustration still got the best of me a few times, but hey, it’s “progress not perfection” right?  And it humbled me so much every time I got another exam, handwritten by a teacher on sometimes-already-used paper.  The teachers themselves, the professionals, have no computers, no way to create a simple test for their students.  And here I am with my own laptop and the skills to use it efficiently.  How many synonyms for “blessed” are there?  How many ways are there of saying “thank you God! But why me?"

Visitors:

                We’ve had quite the influx of visitors recently.  Salesians moving around the country have come to spend time with us, sometimes for a few days, sometimes just a few moments.  When they are here, they are family.  And I feel it just like that, so happy they’ve come.  So blessed to be a stop on their journeys.  There is a twinge of the inner joy of family present during those times.  I have felt this way with my beloved Marianist family as well.  Maybe this is how God created us all, meant to be intimately connected with one another, meant to truly appreciate the value of each person who crosses our path.  Maybe I feel this way when I am with religious orders because I’m closest to God here, because my spirit is more open to His graces.  One day, I hope I can harness this Love with/for everyone I meet.
  

Humanitarian Efforts:

                We had some visitors from Germany whose organization sponsored renovations on the school and who were looking into a possible partnership between our schools/students.  It’s hard to believe I am on the ground seeing the receiving end of humanitarian efforts.   More poignantly, for one day I looked at Maridi as they did, with fresh eyes, hungry to take in all that is Africa.  It made me appreciate how blessed I am to be living this life.  They only stayed 36 hours – I get to stay a year.  This has been my dream for as long as I can remember, and I get to live it every single day.  Their stay also showed me that I have come to understand this culture more than I’d realized.  I still have a loooong way to go, but I feel… like I'm starting to belong.  And not just in the “God wants me here” sense (I’ve had that from Day 1);  in the sense of “this really is my home, and I am responsible for it”.

All-in-all, this past month has been a lot of things.  But what has struck me most deeply and most often is a profound sense of humility, penetrating all the way through my soul.

It's the Little Things

The following is a collection of small moments that have affected me in various ways.  The purpose of this post is to reinforce the idea that it is the little things in life that can bring the greatest meaning. 

Spiderwoman 
               A few weeks ago, I was bitten by a poisonous spider.  My arm quickly got… well we don’t need to go into gory detail, but it was bad.  It kept getting worse until I finally decided (a week and a half later) that I did indeed need to go to the hospital.  I got into the car.  And to my surprise, so did another teacher and Grace (my mission partner).  I was not expecting anyone to come along to comfort me.  Ever the “tough guy,” I acted as though I didn't care either way.  But I did.  A lot.  They sat with me.  They held my hand.  When I refused to squeeze despite the searing pain, they squeezed for me.  Their thoughtful caring touched my heart so much.
               A week later, I had to make a 3 hour trip to see another doctor.  Again Grace slid next to me in the car.  Again I feigned indifference but was secretly grateful.  In the weeks after, she gently nursed me back to health.  (Sidenote: she's actually a nurse.  How much did I luck out?)  Never before has medical aid felt so calming and so personal.  Her empathy made all the difference in the world.

The Students Show Their Love

                During the period of my absence, the students at the school asked, “Where is Sista Cait?” and sent get-well messages to me through the grapevine.  When I made my first appearance at the school in over a week, their faces lit up.  They were incredibly sweet and their happiness was genuine.  They had actually missed me.  I didn't think I mattered that much.  

                The first day back teaching the littlest ones, I entered the classroom to a rousing Welcome (back) song.  After class, I stayed behind for a few minutes while another teacher was preparing his lesson.  One girl looked up at me as only a child can (with eyes that could make a glacier melt) and flashed me the purest of smiles.  “I love you,” she said (in English!), and went back to playing her xylophone.  Just like that.  A moment like that changes a person.  A moment like that sticks with you forever.

Whistle While You Work
                I was playing with some children after school when one of our Brothers came looking for workers to cut the grass (to do this, we use “slashers” which look like golf clubs).  He called to the kids but said, “you don’t want to stop your game?  Okay, no problem.”  They screamed, “No, no! Wait! Stop! We don’t want to play!” and ran over.  They happily spent the next hour in the rain, pulling their weight and then some.  Their work ethic surprised and impressed me.  These children, as a whole, want to work for their school community, even if it means trading in soccer jerseys and grass-stained knees for sweat-soaked t-shirts and mud-caked feet.
                 Through their actions, they provided me with an example to follow.  They have unknowingly challenged me to examine my own priorities and to evaluate my willingness to do what is needed while maintaining a consistently uplifted spirit.  What is second nature to them is cause for reflection for me.

White Girl Got Rhythm
                One afternoon, I asked a few boys to teach me some of the rhythms they play on the drums.  They looked at me with condescending skepticism, but decided to briefly placate me.  Little did they know how much I love the pulse of music.  After recovering from their surprise that I was actually able to follow along, they challenged me with more difficult beats.  I surprised them again.  A small crowd gathered to gawk, and I couldn’t help but feel they were secretly waiting for me to make a terrible blunder and give up.  No such luck.  Eventually we decided “halas” (we were “finished”), and went our separate ways.  But I had gained their respect; I could see it in their eyes.  To me, this small victory is very important.  “I am one of you,” it implies.  “I am not as much of an outsider as it may seem.”  Street cred – check. 

Jubilation 
             Yesterday was All Saints’ Day and the first day post-midterm-exams.  To celebrate both, we had a school mass, the first one since I’ve been here.  The church was packed to the brim (it’s not a huge space, and we have almost 500 kids in the school).  The liturgical dancers performed in the aisle.  The best student singers held their microphones with pride.  There was dancing in the pews.  Normal Sunday mass is a jovial experience, but something was different about this one.  There was a spirit of fun that saturated the air, a product of the energy of the young congregation.  The students who are preparing for sacraments were called to line up, and the sheer number of them was almost overwhelming.  All of them are choosing, on their own, to further their faith.  For the entire 2+ hours of mass, everyone was smiling, thoroughly enjoying the time spent together in worship.  There's something amazing about the passion of youth.  If there's a more powerful energy source for the soul, I don't know about it.

Dance, White Girl, Dance
             After mass, the kids gathered in a massive huddle to dance around a standing drum that was providing a soundtrack to the morning.  I walked over and was immediately told, “Sista, we want to see you dance.”  No problem!  I jumped into the inner circle and gave it my best.  What seemed like a hundred children’s voices rang out with laughter, and some flat-out doubled over.  Now I am no Latina, but I thought I was doing pretty well swinging my hips this way and that.  I don’t know if they laughed just because their teacher was joining in with the kids, because I impressed them with my dancing skills, or because I made a fool out of myself (of course I’m telling myself it was the second).  But it doesn’t matter.  We all had a great deal of fun.  I will remember their laughter in that moment – our laughter – for a long time to come.

Picnic
           We took some of the children on a picnic.  On the way to the picnic spot, I rode in the girls’ car.  I think all of Maridi heard our singing and clapping.  Every song sung was a simple, repetitive Praise and Worship song.  Secular music?  Not of interest.  Singing quietly?  Not an option.  The celebratory chanting continued throughout the day and was complemented by group dances.  I had so much fun! On the way home, I rode in the boys’ tractor-wagon.  Maridi got an encore.  For at least 5 straight minutes, they sang-shouted, “We are aaaaaall Don Bosco boys!”  I claimed this title too, despite being the only girl present (I’m used to that, so I don’t mind “being a boy” every once and awhile).  Interestingly enough, at this very moment, as I am typing this, I hear those exact words being sung from all the way up at the school.  Just another example of the faith of these wonderful kids.  Their lives joyfully center around Christ.  Mine should too.

Frisbee
            Here, the kids play basketball, volleyball, and (the king of sports) soccer.  I brought with me a frisbee, hoping to introduce an American game to South Sudan.  It was a slow start, as kids raised their eyebrows at the flying “plate”.  A few occasionally tossed it around while waiting for their turn to play the “real” games.  But it has begun to take hold.  Yesterday at Oratory, they asked me for it first-thing.  They asked for it instead of even the soccer ball!  They split into teams and learned Ultimate Frisbee, which they played for the whole 2 hours.  They chose to stay even after the other games started.  This is a big deal.  I am so glad that they are learning the game and that they are happy.  As I stood in line at Sports Authority two months ago, I didn’t think about how I might be affected by the purchase.  I did not expect this, but I feel greatly humbled.  All I am is a servant whose hope it is to be a model of God’s love to these children.  Oddly enough, He chose frisbee as a way to bring our cultures together, as a way to bring us together.  I have received so much from this place.  Now God has gifted me with the opportunity to actually add something here, however small.  And something that might even remain here after I have gone.  What a beautiful thing.