"Estoy bien... Gracias a Dios"

When refugees come for their "entrance" interview, they are always asked a standard question of simply, "how are you?" This question follows the part of the interview when we invite the individual to share whatever circumstances they have endured en route to Ecuador. Often, there is a lengthy pause before we will receive a response. Their eyes typically move toward the window, toward the sky. This pause, this consideration, is heavy. But within moments, following a few deep breaths, they will redirect their eyes toward us, and time and time again, they will share that they are well, thanks to God.

These responses are honest, as ensured by their lengthy consideration. And their assessment that they are well, despite frequently lacking fundamental necessities, reconnects me with my most raw and primal humanity. 

After recounting horrific accounts and after detailing how little material items they possess, stating that they are well is a testament to resilience. Their words are chosen carefully and intentionally. Their words are powerful, and reveal much more than what they are formally articulating.

These assessments that they are well are quiet revolutions: stating that despite circumstance, they will go on. I am learning, with each repetition, that the heart of life is good. I am learning that real evil does exist, but so does real goodness. And I am learning about our capacities for joy. We can be wounded, we can be destitute, but our capacity to thrive can be restored. 

Relationship have proven to be huge motivators for refugees to search for better circumstance and to continue on. Caring for another, tending for their needs, leads people through difficulty. It's apparent in their stories, and it's apparent in their company: when you see a mother pick the choice piece of bread for their child, when you see a couple tightly squeeze clasped hands together, when you listen to a story of siblings refusing to leave the other's side. 

Truthfully, we need very little. This is a fact we experience most indisputably when in relationship. For example, when we are hungry, but know that our companion is hungry as well, we choose to half our portions, and are satisfied with considerably less. 

I believe, in the deepest part of my being, that we are created in the image of God. This image is an image of relationship: mother, spirit, child. Therefore, we are living into our missional purpose on earth when we care for another. Living into our calling has a generative energy -- rejuvenating for even the most parched souls. The persons sitting across the table from me in their entrance interviews, spilling stories of oppression and violence, are commonly wrapped up in relationship: with their families, with their significant others, with the divine. And it is these relationships that give resilience, it is these relationships that ensure their determination to continue on.

I've realized, time and time again, as I assess what basic needs our project can fulfill for these people, that they are truly the ones telling me what I need to thrive.

This week, I've had the privilege of exploring Ecuador with my family by my side. Each moment has been precious, even sacred. Having them here, experiencing my world, has been incredible. We've been indulging, but I realize that what has made this time rich has been their simple presence. I hold this reality with tenderness. I am incredibly, incredibly privileged -- this is a fact that has been made resoundingly clear this summer. One element of my privilege is my family. And I've realized this summer that my needs are very little-- but the company of my family, the engagement in relationship, is what keeps me rooted and what keeps me growing. 

And I am endlessly appreciative of this realization. 

All in all: I am well, and the heart of life is good, gracias a Dios.

Love liberates

Unable to sleep last night, I turned to a familiar remedy: perusing the Internet. I ended up on YouTube, binging through Maya Angelou's spoken word. I was entirely captivated by one of her videos, simply titled, "love liberates." She articulated this idea with different anecdotal stories and experiences. But resoundingly, she repeated, "love liberates."

With each repetition of this simple phrase, I found myself appreciating the sentiment more and more. And I found myself considering all of the recent experiences I've had that demonstrate this entirely.

Yesterday, I delivered a monthly allotment of food to a couple who currently cannot leave their home for health reasons. Despite their overwhelming health problems and resultant inability to work, their resilience is incredible. On nights when they are feeling capable, they will scavenge through the city, looking through other people's trash, seeking out treasures.

And truthfully, they have seen potential where others cannot. They scowl when they see things going to waste. They have been able to furnish their entire one-room apartment with things that they have reclaimed. With considerable pride, the woman pointed to a shelf, beaming as she claimed that everything had been found in the trash. Their home is composed of thousands of different objects, creating the most intricate space imaginable. Everything works in relationship to provide for necessities. The cardboard around the walls functions as headboards, but also for insulation.

Love liberates. Love gives second chances. Love sees potential.

Right now, the man has lost sight in one of his eyes. He suffers from cataracts, and in time, his doctor has assured him, the cloud will move, and his sight will be restored. But now, he waits in a haphazard state, unable to work, unable to provide food. With eye patches limiting his sight even further, he has been puttering around the room, tinkering with his things.

This couple is bound in relationship. Together, they demonstrate to one another the capacity for restoration, displayed in the potential they see in their things and the potential that they see in one another. They give to one another in simple but profound ways, by preparing coffee for one another, by moving things around for clearer paths. They assisted one another in their respective walks. Together, in a foreign country, and in spaces where they cannot see, they are safe with one another. Love has liberated them to trust in the unknown.

It takes a certain level of unabashed confidence to assert that I was acting in love when I delivered food to this beautiful family. But I do believe that I was acting in love, and I do believe that the project I am working for is motivated by love. And I do believe that I witnessed a ripple of liberation because of love, when I saw that the security of food enabled this man to care for a bird he discovered with a broken wing. The man put out precious crumbles of bread, wooing the bird in for its nourishment. The bird has now taken up residence behind a broken washing machine, fittingly beside so many other things waiting to be praised and polished into their highest selves.

Love liberates us to live into our highest selves. Ultimately, the highest expression of love will be the bird's freedom, after it has been loved into a full life once again. Love provides security to venture into the unknown - one hand outstretched into the darkness, the other clutching the hand of another.

Also, if you're interested in hearing Maya's gorgeous words... here's a link:

bloom.

A number of Sundays ago, my host sister delivered the word at church. She began her sermon by showing a time-lapse video of plants growing, accompanied by gorgeous instrumental music. As the music swelled, the flowers bloomed. For the entire clip, I was completely transfixed. I only broke my gaze briefly to glance around, and noticed that everyone in the room was silent and still, completely mesmerized by this process.

When the clip finished, I sat spinning for a few breaths. The beauty of the process of growth was overwhelming, a testament to life and creation. My sister gently spoke - breaking the stillness with intentional words. She provided a narrative to what we had just witnessed: noting that what originally seemed so vulnerable had grown to encompass a unique and incredible beauty. Further, she noted the processes that occurred that were imperceptible, like symbiotic relationships, nutrition from roots and the necessary warmth from the sun.

It's impossible to see this process of growth unassisted, and naturally, we frequently appreciate flowers solely in their mature state. Perhaps we do the same with people, noting solely the highlights of their being, ignoring the strains they dealt with in order to attain their current status. And perhaps we are unable to appreciate the power of potential we hold before we come to fruition.

My sister drew a metaphor of community for us: we are the plants, in different phases of growth, leaning into the sunshine, blooming at different moments. We assist one another as we become new creations, simply by our being. Some elements of nature are more instrumental in our growth, but everyone in our community serves an important purpose.

Since this Sunday, which truly was many Sundays ago, I've been preoccupied with ideas of process and growth and the lessons of flowers. And truthfully I've been a tad consumed and guilty of being enormously existential.

But i have had serious observations. I've been touched as I witness the care that it takes to tend to house plants: the consideration and the awareness. I've been amazed at the complexity of front yard garden ecosystems. And I've been surprised to see potted plants in the most destitute of locations. When visiting refugee families, I understand that the material items in the house are the bare necessities. Seeing a succulent or a single blooming rose on an otherwise bare windowsill has continued to strike me.

And I've been unsure of exactly what meaning to make of it all. At first, i thought of the care that it took to maintain the plants, and then, how dedicated people were to finding beauty in circumstance. I thought of the plants as indicative of resilience, a determination to bloom, despite the dirt that the beauty emerges from.

These little plantitas can be understood metaphorically as the refugee families themselves, uprooted and oftentimes solitary. A surprisingly gorgeous occurrence, growing and blooming in unfamiliar ground. Their bold colors often stand out in contrast to cement walls and dirt floors, they are unmistakable.

They are beautiful, but truly, they would flourish even greater if planted in the soil, amongst others. In a place where they can stretch their roots deep and cross pollinate with others. The growth of plants reflects a truth we know: we are made for community.

With variety and diversity, soils grow richer. Simply by being in communion with others different from ourselves, we are stretched. We encompass deeper colors, we grow to new heights. Parts of our potential would remain dormant in our souls if we chose not to engage in relationship.

Quito Mennonite Church has shown me the most radical hospitality, the most sincere inclusion, they've invited me to grow roots. Glancing around during a church service, I see people from every walk of life, similarly growing roots, inching toward the river of life. And I see people flourishing: dancing, brimming with joy, entirely uninhibited, completely blooming.

It is an absolute privilege to grow in this community of love.