i like cinnamon.
i like it in my cappuccino.
and in my coffee
i like it in my tea.
i like the way it smells.
and i love how it's dry and spicy.
i love how we eat mom's cinnamon rolls
every Christmas morning
and i hate that i'm not gonna be there
this year.
i love how it looks like bark from a tree
before you grind it up.
and i like how you can buy sticks of it in america.
is there such thing as a cinnamon tree? or is it a bush?
whatever it is, however it comes,
i want to plant one in my yard, if i ever have a yard someday
or maybe i'll just put it in a pot that i take with me wherever i go
and then after a lot of years, i'll cut off a piece of the tree
and i'll suck on it a while and then i'll grind it up
i'll put it in my coffee and i'll offer some to my friends
and when they leave
i'll sip my coffee and i'll close my eyes
and i'll remember how every Christmas morning my mom and i
would get out the special, huge navy blue coffee mugs
which are minty green on the inside
and really more like bowls than mugs
and we'd fill them, half drip, half microwaved milk
and we'd practically gulp the coffee
as we pulled apart the cinnamon rolls
with our hands
and i don't even remember when we would open the gifts
because it was really about the people
and the coffee and the cinnamon rolls
the warmth, the smells, the love...
so, now i just need to find some cinnamon seeds.
i'll plant them in this little ceramic cup.
and i'll feel safe as i watch them grow.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
falling, fall.
when you walked it was like
you were always falling.
you would lift your leg
and fall into the next step
and your foot would catch you.
next step.
your shoulders were so thin.
i probably could have lifted you.
i probably could have held you.
step.
your arms were so mutilated,
so empty, always hungry.
i had to leave the room when
they came in to take your blood.
next step.
i'm sorry for the time
i turned the corner
because i didn't want to feed you.
and i didn't want to refuse.
you see, friend, sometimes i fall too
and my feet aren't there to catch me.
step.
you were always falling.
you would lift your leg
and fall into the next step
and your foot would catch you.
next step.
your shoulders were so thin.
i probably could have lifted you.
i probably could have held you.
step.
your arms were so mutilated,
so empty, always hungry.
i had to leave the room when
they came in to take your blood.
next step.
i'm sorry for the time
i turned the corner
because i didn't want to feed you.
and i didn't want to refuse.
you see, friend, sometimes i fall too
and my feet aren't there to catch me.
step.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
in memory of.
our dear friend Raju passed away Saturday night. i heard it wasn't a pretty death - he vomitted a lot through his mouth and nose - it's like his body emptied itself and then just died, surrendered. it was supposed to be my shift - saturday night. but the night before i was really unsettled about it - i even cried thinking about staying the night with him at the new hospital. i cried because i was afraid of being alone. then i cried because i realized that he must be thinking the same thing. i fell asleep in my tears friday night and i woke up the next morning feeling very alive and comforted. i knew that Jesus was right there with me and that he would comfort both me and Raju at the hospital that night. but basically - logistics, logistics, i didn't stay with him that night, one of the pastors from church did. and i see how God arranged that for Raju's sake because the pastor that night was able to pray with him and speak comfort and peace into some of his fears as he approached death.
i remember the first time i went to visit him in the hospital just 2 weeks ago, when i walked in the huge room full of patients, he reached out his weak hand and called to me, "friend, friend" and a tear rolled his cheek as he raised his hands in the traditional nepali greeting. there are certain phrases that Raju would repeat over and over in the days & nights i spent with him. -- "so much weakness" and "what to do, what to do?" He was in such pain and he couldn't sleep and i never knew what to say, just "i know, i know, i'm sorry, friend." and, well, when i hear his voice saying, "what to do, what to do?" i think of Jehosaphat's prayer in 2 Chronicles when he's surrounded by this army and he cries out to God, "we don't know what to do, but our eyes are upon you."
and Raju, now that you're gone, i still don't know what to do. what do i do about your friends at Chetra Patti who are also suffering and have no place to stay warm and they're dying too. i still don't know what to do -- but, i'll turn my eyes to God for the joy of the Lord is my strength.
i remember the first time i went to visit him in the hospital just 2 weeks ago, when i walked in the huge room full of patients, he reached out his weak hand and called to me, "friend, friend" and a tear rolled his cheek as he raised his hands in the traditional nepali greeting. there are certain phrases that Raju would repeat over and over in the days & nights i spent with him. -- "so much weakness" and "what to do, what to do?" He was in such pain and he couldn't sleep and i never knew what to say, just "i know, i know, i'm sorry, friend." and, well, when i hear his voice saying, "what to do, what to do?" i think of Jehosaphat's prayer in 2 Chronicles when he's surrounded by this army and he cries out to God, "we don't know what to do, but our eyes are upon you."
and Raju, now that you're gone, i still don't know what to do. what do i do about your friends at Chetra Patti who are also suffering and have no place to stay warm and they're dying too. i still don't know what to do -- but, i'll turn my eyes to God for the joy of the Lord is my strength.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
day makers.
my day started off with the Himalayas in the distance and an extra spicy cup of chiya in my hands. "himal" is the nepali word for "mountains that have snow even in the summer". it's like the eskimos who have so many different words for snow - of course the nepali people are going to have more than one word for mountains. Kathmandu valley is surrounded by "pahad" which are mountains below the tree-line. the sky is usually so cloud-covered that you can't see the big mountains. so today was special - the view was so spectacular - the shiny, white peaks almost seemed unreal - it made my day for sure. it's like nothing bad could happen - because i had seen the mountains. so, the himalayas are my day makers. tell me about yours.
lost in translation.
this is just a small sample of my favorites:
- a kid told me that there was no school today because "the mouses" were taking over the school. later that day this Dutch lady was talking about how tragic it was that all the schools in the valley were just down this week. i said, "right, because of the rats." didn't get much of a response from her. turns out it was actually because of "the maoists" reaking havoc. right, the schools were shut down because the ever-threatening-communist-mountain-rebels, not because the pocket-size-mean-furry varmints were infiltrating all the schools in the valley, right.
- same day a friend was telling me his life story. he was telling me how he grew up in a nomadic mountain tribe. he said his family followed the cows around and took care of them. "how do you call that?" he asked. i said, "hmm?" he said, "you know, like a shepherd to the cows." i said, "yeah, like a cow shepherd." he continued on with the story. a few minutes later it dawned on me. oh, right, a cowboy. we have a name for that, we call it a cowboy. i was born and raised 45 minutes from Dallas, Texas and i forgot the word "cowboy."
- i asked the little boy in my host family what he wanted for his birthday. i heard "paints." i was immediately affirming this idea. yes, art, of course, that is the perfect gift for a kid. he may have unrealized gifts and just so much that he wants to express. he said, "no, pants." the kid needs new pants. right, art is a luxury to the poor. it is foreign to kids in this neighborhood. we must clothe them before they can paint us a picture.
- in the hospital with my dear friend, Raju, i hear him say, "i need peace." i put my hand on his shoulder, affirming him, "ok, you need peace, like in your heart, you want peace on the inside?" he said, "no, i need piss, i need to piss."
yeah, life's not about being understood. it's about having people around, communicating, listening, often misunderstanding, but always loving.
- a kid told me that there was no school today because "the mouses" were taking over the school. later that day this Dutch lady was talking about how tragic it was that all the schools in the valley were just down this week. i said, "right, because of the rats." didn't get much of a response from her. turns out it was actually because of "the maoists" reaking havoc. right, the schools were shut down because the ever-threatening-communist-mountain-rebels, not because the pocket-size-mean-furry varmints were infiltrating all the schools in the valley, right.
- same day a friend was telling me his life story. he was telling me how he grew up in a nomadic mountain tribe. he said his family followed the cows around and took care of them. "how do you call that?" he asked. i said, "hmm?" he said, "you know, like a shepherd to the cows." i said, "yeah, like a cow shepherd." he continued on with the story. a few minutes later it dawned on me. oh, right, a cowboy. we have a name for that, we call it a cowboy. i was born and raised 45 minutes from Dallas, Texas and i forgot the word "cowboy."
- i asked the little boy in my host family what he wanted for his birthday. i heard "paints." i was immediately affirming this idea. yes, art, of course, that is the perfect gift for a kid. he may have unrealized gifts and just so much that he wants to express. he said, "no, pants." the kid needs new pants. right, art is a luxury to the poor. it is foreign to kids in this neighborhood. we must clothe them before they can paint us a picture.
- in the hospital with my dear friend, Raju, i hear him say, "i need peace." i put my hand on his shoulder, affirming him, "ok, you need peace, like in your heart, you want peace on the inside?" he said, "no, i need piss, i need to piss."
yeah, life's not about being understood. it's about having people around, communicating, listening, often misunderstanding, but always loving.
Monday, October 23, 2006
my day off.
last week on my day off i spent the night at my friend Gloria's house. Gloria is from Uganda, she's a volunteer here, supported by some church in Finland that she's never visited. i love staying at Gloria's. we always have a big breakfast with lots of breads and spreads and her neighbor makes great coffee. her garden is so verdant and tropical. i feel like i'm in Peru or maybe Kenya in the Spring. it's defnitely a rejuvenating experience. the first sounds of the morning are the birds on the balcony and the landlord's yoga-chanting downstairs. on this particular day off, i hopped on the back of a motorcycle with my friends Bill and Janet. yes, three of us and our bags on one motorcycle - quite exciting slash i'm glad i couldn't see much of the oncoming traffic due to Janet's hair.
bill dropped us off at a bus park and our goal was to get into Bhaktapur without having to pay the tourist fee of $10. i've been hearing about Bhaktapur since i got here and i just had to know what all the hype was about. it took janet and i about an hour to infiltrate the walled/guarded city unnoticed. even as we were trying to cross bridge after bridge i was telling myself, -- oh, this is probably going to be really lame and not worth all this effort... but i was wrong, it was so worth the effort. this village-suburb was one of the most bizarely charming experiences. such a European feel. actually, Germany provided the funding for this town so it really does resemble a quaint little European village with cobblestone streets winding in and out of larger open air plazas, in this case the plazas were graced with beautiful ancient-looking temples. no cars, no pollution, no noise, yes the local men still hasseled me so i just escaped to the most pleasant roof-top cafe. i had the place to myself. i sat at the end of one of those long, skinny tables in the Italian movies usally adorned with a white table cloth dancing in the wind. there was a light canopy above and green vines and plants all around. they only offered Nescafe, but the surroundings were perfectly pleasant. i'd like to go back sometime.
read while waiting in the line at the immigration office - Annie Dillard's the Writing Life - captivating, intoxicating, brilliant
currently reading - Announcing the Reign of God - seems like a good idea, but i'm not hooked yet
bill dropped us off at a bus park and our goal was to get into Bhaktapur without having to pay the tourist fee of $10. i've been hearing about Bhaktapur since i got here and i just had to know what all the hype was about. it took janet and i about an hour to infiltrate the walled/guarded city unnoticed. even as we were trying to cross bridge after bridge i was telling myself, -- oh, this is probably going to be really lame and not worth all this effort... but i was wrong, it was so worth the effort. this village-suburb was one of the most bizarely charming experiences. such a European feel. actually, Germany provided the funding for this town so it really does resemble a quaint little European village with cobblestone streets winding in and out of larger open air plazas, in this case the plazas were graced with beautiful ancient-looking temples. no cars, no pollution, no noise, yes the local men still hasseled me so i just escaped to the most pleasant roof-top cafe. i had the place to myself. i sat at the end of one of those long, skinny tables in the Italian movies usally adorned with a white table cloth dancing in the wind. there was a light canopy above and green vines and plants all around. they only offered Nescafe, but the surroundings were perfectly pleasant. i'd like to go back sometime.
read while waiting in the line at the immigration office - Annie Dillard's the Writing Life - captivating, intoxicating, brilliant
currently reading - Announcing the Reign of God - seems like a good idea, but i'm not hooked yet
Friday, October 13, 2006
thank you, medical community.
hmm, the other day in my journal i wrote out a prayer thanking God for all the people on the earth that desire to work in the medical field. i'm going to make it a point to be more thankful for them in the future. because, well, i sure don't like anything that has to do with sickness or the treatment thereof. i hate hospitals; i hate spit cups and blood tests and bed pans and IVs and roaches and bandages and oxygen tanks and medications... but i've found myself spending a lot of time at one particular hospital this week at the bedside of a friend of mine. his name is Raju. he's been living on the streets, using drugs for the past 20 years. he was one of the first people i met here. his HIV is really advanced and his tuberculosis unmistakable. it's hard to even translate the experiences of this past week into words on a screen. i have been so touched by the many people who've sacrificed and pulled together to care for and love Raju in this time. Raju has had a tough life. but he has found hope through the love of Jesus shown to him through so many people before me. and well, my life has been changed just sitting/sleeping on the floor by his bed this past week, and doing all those things i hate to do...
on a lighter note: i cut/layered my hair with fingernail clippers on a whim yesterday morning... i think it was a good idea.
intermittently reading:
Bird by Bird - by Anne Lamott -- random, light, moving
Prophetic Imagination - by i forget -- hard, accademic, but i think he's on to something
on a lighter note: i cut/layered my hair with fingernail clippers on a whim yesterday morning... i think it was a good idea.
intermittently reading:
Bird by Bird - by Anne Lamott -- random, light, moving
Prophetic Imagination - by i forget -- hard, accademic, but i think he's on to something
love buckets and flower juice.
ok, we (30 or so people) loaded up in a little bus last weekend and headed for the hills. wow, it was so refreshing to be surrounded by trees and rigid topography. the focus of the retreat was "the 5 love languages." you know, finding your love language, learning about other people's. sure, maybe it's over-discussed a lot in america, at least if i have anything to do with it. but i think it's fun to introduce the idea to people who've never thought about it before. the premise of the love language theory is that we all have these "love tanks" that are filled only through certain means. so when our friend was translating from English to Nepali - he was stuck on the word "tank," which is not as culturally relevant here, and i suggested, you know like a "love bucket." -- the plastic bucket is used to catch the daily supply of water. it is a pivotal item in every nepali household.-- ok, so i loved the image. in the end we all drew names from a hat and our assignment is to intentionally show love to that person via their primary love language over the next month.
so, the little mountain valley was gorgeous. i went on many walks/jogs/photo-hikes. and the village people were amazing. so many people asked us into their homes. i mean they definitely all stopped what they were doing to stare, but there was still a very warm feeling in the valley. my favorite cup of tea so far was at this one little man's shop - he wouldn't accept any money, which is so backwards because they have nothing, and well so beautiful.
the last morning i went on a short hike up the hill with two girls from Karuna Ghar. we were looking for others from our group, but found no one. we got a bit lost and i was concerned that everyone else might be waiting for us down the hill. in my indecisive disaray i turned around and the girls were excitedly picking flowers. they said, "molly aunti, you squeeze the bottom of the flower and drink the juice like this." cupping the sweet red blossoms in their adorable little nepali hands. right, excellent idea, girls. how could i have almost missed the flower juice.
so, the little mountain valley was gorgeous. i went on many walks/jogs/photo-hikes. and the village people were amazing. so many people asked us into their homes. i mean they definitely all stopped what they were doing to stare, but there was still a very warm feeling in the valley. my favorite cup of tea so far was at this one little man's shop - he wouldn't accept any money, which is so backwards because they have nothing, and well so beautiful.
the last morning i went on a short hike up the hill with two girls from Karuna Ghar. we were looking for others from our group, but found no one. we got a bit lost and i was concerned that everyone else might be waiting for us down the hill. in my indecisive disaray i turned around and the girls were excitedly picking flowers. they said, "molly aunti, you squeeze the bottom of the flower and drink the juice like this." cupping the sweet red blossoms in their adorable little nepali hands. right, excellent idea, girls. how could i have almost missed the flower juice.
Monday, October 02, 2006
my pilgrim friend.
suprisingly so, i have been approached by several male tourists recently in a completely foreign tongue. they walk up to me quite confidently as if they know me or something and this is all i hear: "jibber, jabber, jibber jabber, blah, blah, blah". i mean i was even a Linguistics major for a season, but i had no idea who these people were or what they were trying to communicate to me. i catch myself responding quite often to other tourists, "i'm sorry i don't speak that language." and well, i've figured out that they think i'm Israeli. seems random, i know, but the number one ethnicity here among tourists is Israeli. so bizarre, such a tiny little country and it's not even that close by... they're not at all what i would've expected people from Israel to be like, there's not a single Orhthodox Jew in the mix. there are so many of them and they seem so directionless. They come to Kathmandu to try to figure things out. they consume a lot of coffee, hummous, and other substances and often mistake me for one of them especially when i where this one shirt with wild colors and lots of flowers.
and well, talking about Israel reminds me of a friend of mine. to lessen the exploitative nature of this narrative, i'll call him - Jimmy. I met Jimmy shortly after i got to Kathmandu. Jimmy is from the Netherlands, loves Jesus and was just sensing that there had to be more than his 9-5 in Holland. so he quits his job and buys a plane ticket to India i think. he travels around India for a while, making friends and seeking God. then he comes through Kathmandu and makes friends with one of my friends here. he really connects with a lot of the kids here on the street. but Jimmy felt God calling him to go to China. he goes to China, buys a motorcycle and rides around for several weeks. back in Holland Jimmy had been engaged but it was called off and he ended up with both of their rings and he wrote a poem about burying the rings someday in the tallest mountain in the world. so Jimmy decides to hit up Mt. Everest. he buries the rings (i love poets) and is crying out to God and God places the word Jerusalem in his heart. so he comes down the mountain and embarks on a motorcycle journey from Everest to Jerusalem. he makes it to the Pakistan border, but for some reason they don't want to let tall skinny, peaceful Scandanavian boy through. Jimmy comes back to Kathmandu - where i meet up with him. Jimmy shares with us his passion to bring God's peace to people in Jerusalem. Jimmy hung out with our crowd here only for a couple weeks. it was short, but it was so sweet. he is passionate, he is fearless. his church in the Netherlands didn't really support his decision to abandon his old life and to follow God on this journey. so the night before Jimmy got on a plane for Jerusalem, our church gathered around Jimmy and prayed for him and sent him out as one of our own. we celebrated with him this vision that God had given him and then we said goodbye. whenever i think of Israel now, i'm going to think of Jimmy.
Buechner says, "religion points to that area of human experience where in one way or another man comes upon mystery as a summons to pilgrimage." my friend Jimmy has been on a pilgrimage. and really maybe we're all pilgrims - it just looks different in different contexts. i think of the last verse in the song at ian and camille's wedding and it makes me smile:
haste thee on from grace to glory
armed by faith and winged by prayer
heaven's eternal days before thee
God's own hand shall guide thee there
soon shall close our earthly mission
soon shall pass our pilgrim days
hope shall change to glad fruition
faith to sight and prayer to praise
and well, talking about Israel reminds me of a friend of mine. to lessen the exploitative nature of this narrative, i'll call him - Jimmy. I met Jimmy shortly after i got to Kathmandu. Jimmy is from the Netherlands, loves Jesus and was just sensing that there had to be more than his 9-5 in Holland. so he quits his job and buys a plane ticket to India i think. he travels around India for a while, making friends and seeking God. then he comes through Kathmandu and makes friends with one of my friends here. he really connects with a lot of the kids here on the street. but Jimmy felt God calling him to go to China. he goes to China, buys a motorcycle and rides around for several weeks. back in Holland Jimmy had been engaged but it was called off and he ended up with both of their rings and he wrote a poem about burying the rings someday in the tallest mountain in the world. so Jimmy decides to hit up Mt. Everest. he buries the rings (i love poets) and is crying out to God and God places the word Jerusalem in his heart. so he comes down the mountain and embarks on a motorcycle journey from Everest to Jerusalem. he makes it to the Pakistan border, but for some reason they don't want to let tall skinny, peaceful Scandanavian boy through. Jimmy comes back to Kathmandu - where i meet up with him. Jimmy shares with us his passion to bring God's peace to people in Jerusalem. Jimmy hung out with our crowd here only for a couple weeks. it was short, but it was so sweet. he is passionate, he is fearless. his church in the Netherlands didn't really support his decision to abandon his old life and to follow God on this journey. so the night before Jimmy got on a plane for Jerusalem, our church gathered around Jimmy and prayed for him and sent him out as one of our own. we celebrated with him this vision that God had given him and then we said goodbye. whenever i think of Israel now, i'm going to think of Jimmy.
Buechner says, "religion points to that area of human experience where in one way or another man comes upon mystery as a summons to pilgrimage." my friend Jimmy has been on a pilgrimage. and really maybe we're all pilgrims - it just looks different in different contexts. i think of the last verse in the song at ian and camille's wedding and it makes me smile:
haste thee on from grace to glory
armed by faith and winged by prayer
heaven's eternal days before thee
God's own hand shall guide thee there
soon shall close our earthly mission
soon shall pass our pilgrim days
hope shall change to glad fruition
faith to sight and prayer to praise
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