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Letters from Young Adult Volunteers |
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From Heather
Grantham
Young Adult Volunteer, Philippines
Dear Friends,
I have only been here for one and a half weeks, but I feel
as though I have seen and heard things that would be equivalent
of at least two months. I am on an emotional roller-coaster
or sorts. At times, I am ecstatic to be doing the work of
God in this poverty stricken nation in need of so much healing.
Then at other times, I am grief-stricken, knowing it takes
so much more than I can give to heal the scars that run so
deep here. I find myself crying with the Filipino people
not yet able to comprehend why. I know I must strengthen
my relationships here and in turn at home knowing that these
paths must intertwine in a healthy way for there to be a
change.
When finding out I was going to the Philippines, many friends
and family encouraged me by telling me what I beautiful country
this must be, with it being by the ocean and all. Well, I
almost hate to tell you all this, but Manila is NOT beautiful.
The people here are—I will get to that later—but
the land has been raped of its natural resources and the
sky has been filled with smoke and other unnatural things
that the air with lack of trees (due to the cutting of them
to make more buildings) cannot clear. Trash lines the street
as well as the bays where the kids swim and the fisherfolk
fish. The three other women that are in this program with
me (two Germans and one Canadian) keep sneezing black. The
pollution is harder to get used to than the heat is—which
is saying a lot considering we sweat constantly.
Why is the pollution so bad? It is mostly due to the large
corporations who look to the Philippines—and the Filipino—as
a source of cheap labor. Companies like Adidas, Timex and
Gap are just a few of the hundreds that have sweat-shops
based in Manila where workers make $5.00 a day. Also, first-world
countries have used the Philippines as its own personal farmland
to make crops of rice, asparagus, fruit or whatever the global
market is demanding. Rarely does the Filipino eat rice grown
in his/her own country.
This past weekend, we spent in an "urban poor" area
where the houses are the size of an American super small
bedroom and usually 10 people live in it. The church was
the size of a typical Sunday school room, yet the congregation
was the most generous and loving people. They put us up in
a room with running water, when most of them bathed out in
the street. I stayed up until midnight on Friday just talking
with a group. I truly felt the Holy Spirit in the midst of
this community. They cooked for us large meals when they
themselves did not have much to eat on a day to day basis
and the ladies of the church even gave us presents when we
left. I cannot explain to you what it meant to them for us
to accept their hospitality, nor what it was like for us
to accept hospitality from people who could not even afford
shoes. The only words I can think of is "very humbling."
God works in such amazing ways. The Filipino people have
experienced the love of God in a way that is so moving to
me. I hope to share more of this soon. Until then, know that
I think of you often and I love you dearly.
In the Spirit,
Heather Grantham
Young Adult Volunteer, Philippines
P.S. Please keep the Philippines in your prayers. Not a
day goes by that the Filipinos do not think of America, the
least we could do is pray for them. |
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From Kerrie
Yarnell
Young Adult Volunteer, Wapato, Washington
Hello Friends,
Things on the Campbell Farm are going GREAT!!!
Each day, I think I am more and more in my element ... I
am so happy and at peace here, working hard and feeling very
much in the right place at the right time.
Today we made fresh salsa and spaghetti
sauce from tomatoes in our garden to freeze for the summer.
This afternoon, we walked around the Latino and Native housing
developments meeting and talking with people and registering
them to vote. I spent a couple of hours at a city councilperson's
house tonight eating dinner and learning about the hot political
issues here in Wapato ... population 4,500 people. There
are a ton of issues because Wapato is this tiny town on a
Reservation, which is like a sovereign nation all to itself
anyway. Wapato has the highest crime rate per capita in the
nation, and the average income of the people is $500 per
month, and the taxes are rising. This particular councilman,
Juan, spent 34 days in jail after defending the dignity of
a Latina woman in a council meeting who had been threatened
by a police officer. There is so much fear and racism there.
Tonight Juan said one of the smartest, most compassionate
things I have ever heard. He said, "As long as you are
always putting the needs of the poor and disenfranchised
up at the top of the priority list, you'll never be wrong.
That's my life's goal."
The Campbell Farm is a place that seeks
to participate in God's Peaceable Realm and be a ministry
of hospitality to the people of the Reservation and Wapato
through dialogue, good stewardship of the earth and lots
of love. Despite the hardships, poverty and racism, there
is hope—so many are devoting so much energy to seeing
this vision come to pass, and there is so much joyful energy
whole-heartedly thrown at this purpose. At the end of our
dinner with Juan, his 10-year-old son, Adam sang a song of
hope in the Aztec language: With the heart of my mother and
the heart of my father, I plant this bed of flowers for mother
earth.
I am so happy here. Thanks for your prayers
and your support that make all of this stuff possible!
Blessings,
Kerrie Yarnell
Young Adult Volunteer, Wapato, Washington |
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From Jen
Ashbaugh
Young Adult Volunteer, Northern Ireland
Greetings to All,
Today the sun is shining, at least temporarily,
in Belfast, NI. The wonderful thing about life in Belfast
is that the weather is even more inconsistent than in Oklahoma.
While the day might be generally cloudy and miserable, there
are always a few moments of brilliant sunshine. I have learned
the hard way that even when the sun is out and there isn't
a cloud in sight, a raincoat will probably come in handy
later on that day.
The weather has taken a turn for the colder
and the past few days have been drizzly and grey. Today the
sun is out and the entire city has decided to walk about
and enjoy the brisk autumn air. Belfast is a beautiful city,
with grand buildings and bustling shops and buses and taxis
that whiz down the streets. And yet, it is the greenest city
I have ever seen. In addition to parks and the Lagan River,
I can turn down the busiest street and still see the rolling
green hills in the distance. That is, of course, assuming
that they are not covered with the shadows of the frequent
Irish rain.
The first few weeks have been a get-to-know-you
period. I have consumed pots and pots of tea, sometimes in
one sitting, and introduced myself to groups all over the
community. During my first week at Cooke Centenary Presbyterian
Church, I was recruited to be in the church musical. Much
to my chagrin, I was cast as ... "the bride" which
I'm certain those who know me well will get a good laugh
at.
Laughter has been an essential part of
my first few weeks in Belfast. The moments when I feel most
welcome into my community are those moments when the people
I am with break into hysterics. In the last few weeks I have
laughed with people more than twice my age at musical practice
and with the youth group as they tried to guess where Oklahoma
was on a map and my co-workers at Ballynafeigh Community
House, who told me that my sense of humour was quite Irish,
my favourite compliment to date.
The past few weeks I've been getting to
know the congregation of Cooke Centenary Presbyterian Church
by visiting the Presbyterian Women's Association, the sewing
group, various bible studies, as well as helping out with
Sunday School, the Boys Brigade, the Girl Guides and visiting
homes. In many ways, Cooke reminds me of my own church home,
First Presbyterian Church of Claremore, Ok. The congregation
has about 400 members and while many in the church are over
fifty, there are a solid number of children, youth and young
adults.
However, the appearance of similarity can
be deceiving. Last Sunday I saw that "For the Beauty
of the Earth" was one of the hymns to be sung in church.
I was looking forward to singing one of my favorite songs
and at the appropriate time, I opened my mouth only to discover
that the tune was completely different. As I hurriedly tried
to catch the tune, I realized that there have been many instances
during the past three weeks that I have thought I was adapting
to the local culture quite nicely only to discover that things
were not as I expected. It is wonderful to notice that words
like "brilliant," "aye," and even "wee" are
slipping into my conversation, but I know that a change in
my speaking pattern does not indicate that I now belong to
this community. While I realize that I have only just begun
and have much to do, still I am excited, nervous and thrilled
at the solid foundation that has been created in the last
few weeks.
While I won't admit to homesickness, there
have been moments when I've wondered how I will fit into
my community. It is hard to balance building new relationships
while maintaining the friendships that have been such an
important part of my support system. Although at one time
I thought that it would be simple to remain in close contact
with friends and family, the time difference and my busy
schedule have led to more silence than conversation. As I
move through this period of somewhat awkward transition,
I am strengthened knowing that your prayers and thoughts
are with me even though it is difficult to communicate.
Grace and Peace to You,
Jen Ashbaugh
Young Adult Volunteer, Northern Ireland |
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