Therapeutic parenting based on Dyadic Developmental Psychotherapy relies of helping parents understand what is causing the child’s behaviors. Looking deeper in order to understand what is motivating the child. All behavior is adaptive and functional; however sometimes the behaviors that were adaptive in one environment are ill-suited for the new home. If your first parents were neglectful, unreliable, and inconsistent so that you were often hungry and left alone for long periods of time, hoarding food, gorging, and going to “anyone” for help is adaptive. When that child is placed in a foster or adoptive home with caring, responsive, sensitive parents, that same behavior is no longer adaptive. By understanding what is driving the behavior and appreciating the child’s fear, anxieties, shame, and anger, the new parent will be better able to respond to the emotions driving the behavior rather than the surface behavior or symptoms. Unless the underlying emotions are addressed with sensitivity and within a safe, unconditionally loving, and supportive home, the behavior or symptoms are not likely to stop…they may change into other problems, but if the underlying cause remains, then the problems will surface again and again.

Let’s discuss the principles required. These principles are more fully elaborated elsewhere (Becker-Weidman & Shell, 2005; Becker-Weidman, 2007)

SENSITIVITY. Because children with trauma and attachment disorders are often unable to describe their internal states, emotions, or thoughts, it becomes the job of the parent to do this with and for the child so that the child learns to do this. Of course, this is precisely what one does with a newborn, toddler, and child. We often help children manage their internal states by doing that with them. When a baby cries, we pick up the baby, comfort the child, and by so doing, regulate the child’s level of arousal. Over time the infant becomes increasingly proficient at doing this independently. The parent of a foster or adopted child must be sensitive to the internal states of their child so that the parent can respond to the underlying emotions driving behavior.

RESPONSIVENESS. Once the underlying emotion is identified, the parent must respond to this need or emotion, with sensitivity. By meeting the child’s need (to feel safe, loved, cared about, for food, drink, joy, etc) the child will internalize new and healthier models of relationships and parents.

FOLLOWING THE CHILD’S LEAD. By this I mean that the parent will need to respond to the child and follow the child’s lead in the sense of providing what the child is needing (comfort, affection, support, structure, etc) and at the child’s pace. It is very important to move at the child’s pace to create the necessary sense of safety and security that these children need.

THE SHARING OF CONGRUENT INTERSUBJECTIVE EXPERIENCES. Intersubjectivity refers to shared emotion (also called attunement), share attention, and share intention. You can understand this if you think of playing a board game with your child. When you are playing some game together and enjoying the experience, you are sharing emotions (joy and a sense of competence), sharing attention (focusing on the game), and sharing intention (playing by the rules, both trying to win, having fun, etc.). Or another example, when talking about the death of the child’s loved grandparent, you both may share the same emotions (grief), both are recalling memories of the grandparent (shared intention and attention). It is the sharing of congruent intersubjective experiences, experiences in which all three elements are the shared, that helps the child heal and learn about intimacy and relationships.

CREATING A SENSE OF SAFETY AND SECURITY. Safety comes first. Unless the child is physically, emotionally, and psychologically safe, healing cannot occur. So, it is the job of the parent to create safety and security for the child. This then allows for the exploration of underlying feelings, thoughts, and memories. Without an alliance there can be no secure base. Without a secure base there can be no exploration. Without exploration there can be no integration. Without integration there can be no healing.

Arthur Becker-Weidman, Ph.D.
Center For Family Development
5820 Main Street, suite 406
Williamsville, NY 14221

Arthur Becker-Weidman
Dyadic Developmental Psychotherapy
http://centerforfamilydevelopment.wordpress.com/2009/06/04/about-the-founder/
http://www.goodtherapy.org/arthur-becker-weidman-therapist.php

To learn about Mazabuka,we need to go to Zambia, Africa.

Zambian Tourism Board states:

Welcome to Zambia: The butterfly in the heart of Africa.

Home of the Victoria Falls and many other magnificent waterfalls,
spectacular wildlife, superb safaris, great adventures, rich culture and friendly people.

Wikipedia indicates:

Mazabuka is a town in the Southern Province of Zambia, lying southwest of Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. Its population in as estimated to be 35,0000 inhabitants as per 2000 census.

Mazabuka’s economy is largely dependant on sugarcane fields and nickel mines.

http://travelworld.thecheers.org/Zambia/Mazabuka claims current population in Mazabuka as 64014 inhabitants.

From Becca Smith’s travelblog:

My two incredibly fabulous friends from Canada, Kristi and Jessica, made the long journey to meet up with me in Zambia. After an orientation to Lusaka, we set off for Southern Province to meet up with two of my Women for Change colleagues in rural Mazabuka for a day. A little chaos at the Lusaka intercity bus station and a couple of hours later we were dropped on the side of the road in Mazabuka town. Later in the afternoon we got in the truck and made the bumpy drive off the main road into the villages. We stayed at one of Women for Change’s development centres and spent some time with the local residents over dinner.

Now for  more on Zambia from the Zambian Tourism website:

Zambia has one of the lowest population to land ratio’s in Africa. Only 10 million people in a country half the size of Europe.  With the increase in community sizes and the lure of the cities, rural life has undergone fundamental changes.

Many villages are now dominated by women who now have to depend on their own ingenuity to generate cash to support their many children and very often their elders.

Adulthood comes very early for rural children, especially the girls. Few manage to start school before ten and only five years later they are considered adults with all the attendant responsibilities of marriage, child rearing and tending to crops. Only a small percentage of children finish primary school due to the high cost of uniforms, books and various school funds which parents must contribute.

The government has a policy of universal free primary education and healthcare. Health facilities however are grossly inadequate.

Education system consists of

• 7 years of primary education from age 7
• 5 years of secondary education consisting of Phase 1: grade 8 and 9 and Phase 2: grade 10 to 12.

More to come…….

Ghana: Day Five

Up, again. Not that I was worried I wouldn’t wake up this morning, but I just thought I’d share that fact. I consider waking up as “starting the day on a good note” and always much better than the alternative.

I’ll be meeting Laura soon and we’ll be going to the internet cafe – facebook also counts as starting the day off on a good note. Or feeding my addiction. Either way, I’m happy.

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The internet cafe, although entertaining for me, is pretty much, for you, reader, an oatmeal topic – bland and mushy (I don’t know exactly how “mushy” fits into the metaphor, but it’s an entertaining visual); as such, I’ll skim over that part of my day unless something spicy comes up. Spicy oatmeal is worth talking about.

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Laura and I wanted to try something new for breakfast today, not because Celsbridge or ChurCheese were bad options, but we were thinking about going to a restaurant that maybe didn’t begin with the letter “C” – so we traipsed down the alphabet, via Laura’s guidebook, to “F is for Frankie’s.” Despite having been warned against it for reasons hitherto unrevealed, the guidebook said that is was a popular place with good food. For those of you that don’t know me, the fact that it’s a popular place is just a bonus on top of my only requirement: good food. We made our way down the street – Frankie’s is about a three-block walk down Oxford Street from Sharpnet. Keep in mind, however, that each block is already quite large; and there are three conditions that make each block into a caricature of a normal downtown stroll. Imagine walking down the street in the busy city center of your choice; for me, that is Seattle, where there are large and clearly defined sidewalks, and the walk is pleasant and possibly even calm. Take the idea of that walk, and add the first and most permeating condition – cars. There are cars everywhere – pulling in, pulling out, turning around, passing each other on the two-lane road, turning left, turning right, etc; and these cars don’t care much for pedestrians. For the majority of any walk down Oxford Street, one walks between the parking spots and the road, also known as “in between the cars and where the cars want to be.”

The next thing you’ll notice about the street is, as I said before, the street vendors; they fill in the gaps where there are no parking spots, and unlike the cars around them, they are quite interested in pedestrians. Selling everything you would ever never need, in a variety of aggressive sales techniques I have never seen before, they do absolutely nothing to either help you get to your destination or have enough money once you arrive.

With addition of the street vendors, total walking space is reduced to a neat corridor – cozy but manageable despite the fact that the walls are constantly shifting. Where things get tricky is with the addition of the Pit of Slow and Painful Death, which adequately sums up Accra’s open air sewer system – a series of open troughs (foot-and-a-half wide, and two to three feet deep) occasionally covered by dubious (at best) grates or slabs of concrete; add in the most putrid black amalgamation of rubbish, human excrement, and disease and you have a death trap. Fortunately, the gutters on Oxford Street are better than most of the rest of the city – but I’m still not planning on falling in any time soon. One of the Projects volunteers did, and the cuts on her leg seeped for days (I still don’t know if they’ve fully healed, but I saw the leg two days after the fall and it was nasty).

So add these conditions together and you get the idea; suddenly a three-block walk becomes a mile-long waltz with the culture. That’s not to say it’s incredibly dangerous – just know what to watch for, and keep in time with the music.

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So, Frankie’s. According to the Bradt travel guide: “Also on Oxford Street, Frankie’s has long been known for its high-quality pastries, cakes and ice cream, while the more recently opened first-floor restaurant and coffee shop serve an excellent variety of salad and grills in the US$3.50-5 range, as well as superb burgers (the best she had ever had outside the States, according to one reader).” (124)

To put that description to the test (after braving the aforementioned gambit) we sat ourselves down in the middle of a restaurant so nondescript on the inside I may well have been back home. As many tourists as natives, MTV music videos on the flatscreen, and prices on par with American restaurants, this was the full tourist experience; and in that spirit we both ordered burgers (although they had the largest menu of any restaurant we’ve yet seen, we were both craving burgers) for roughly 12 cedis apiece (roughly 9 USD at the time of writing). I’ll admit that the burgers were decent (the steak fries were great), but the amount of meat on these things has me on the lookout for anorexic cows. At least the bun was filling. Wait, did we just have burgers for breakfast? Yes. Yes we did. Go us.

After the meal we were supposed to meet up with Jasmin and head to Sunshine-to-Go, a diner popular among the volunteers; but not before my first showdown with a street vendor. This was not a particularly noteworthy experience in and of itself: I needed sunglasses, he was selling sunglasses (on a side note, the sunglasses vendors are a sight to see, carrying large, flat yellow styrofoam blocks through the street on their heads, probably 5′ by 5′ by 1′ tall, with easily 200 pairs of shades crammed on top) – and the vendors can smell “need” almost as fast as they can put a price on it. “For you, my friend, these are nice; haha no way; these then; what do you think, Laura?; yeah, they’re nice; okay, for you, 15 cedis; he’ll pay 8 cedis; I will?; no, no, 12 cedis, very good price; I’ll pay 10 cedis; okay; okay; okay – thank you.” Like I said, the process itself was uneventful; but it marked my transition into the system of the Ghana street vendors. It’s a fascinating system, actually, and I’ll go into more detail about it at a later date; what’s important is that this was another milestone for me personally, a metric with which I gauge my immersion into local culture.

At the tail end of these proceedings, Jasmin showed up; and as planned (I love actually being able to say that) we moseyed, waltzed & dodged our way to Sunshine-to-Go. Demetri, Henrietta, Alex and Chris were already there, having ordered already, and we just joined them. Laura and I got milkshakes (what breakfast is complete without one – and I use the term breakfast loosely here); or at least, Laura and I ordered milkshakes – Laura got hers, while I was stuck bereft of that pleasure. I thought maybe it was just taking a while, as most things in Ghana do; but towards the end of the meal when I asked for it again, I got an actual earful from our waitress about how she had to warm up the machine again. Sorry, ma’am, but that’s not my fault – you read my order back to me. Eventually, though, I got my milkshake, which I’m pretty sure at this point was just two parts chocolate milk and one part cold shoulder (and three parts delicious).

I don’t remember what Jasmin got, but I’m sure that both she and I would agree that it doesn’t matter; what does matter, however, is that it was at this meal that I learned about Demetri’s obsession with pop culture, courtesy of MTV playing on the television. And obsession is the best word for it; celebrity gossip, chart-toppers from whatever year, who acted in what movie, every song ever sung by so-and-so, etc – he knows it all (also, chances are that if they’re a celebrity, he knows them, especially if they’re Lady Gaga). Random tidbit.

Lunch went on past 3 o’clock, but Laura, Jasmin and I left around that time to withdraw some money and then head on to the orphanage. This was my good for me, because I learned where the nearest ATM is, as well as the place to change money on Oxford Street (yay survival points); but it turns out that rather than a routine withdrawal, this was an emergency transfer for Jasmin. With a little over two weeks left, she had run out of money, and without a debit card she couldn’t withdraw more; so her parents had transferred a sufficient amount of funds into Laura’s account (Laura and Jasmin grew up together, just FYI) to then be withdrawn by Laura and given to Jasmin. This went off without a hitch, except that Laura hadn’t told her bank that she was in Ghana, and this was a maximum withdrawal – and yes, after that transaction her account immediately froze. Fortunately, there is a second account that Laura has been using for a couple of days since.

The other “mini-event” that happened is that on to the way to the ATM, we passed a street vendor who knew Laura’s name and specialized in making bracelets with people’s names on them – he happened to have one with “Laura” on it that he had been trying to sell her for over a week. This is normal, and us obronis get used to being remembered by every street vendor; what I’m not used to, and will never e okay with, is when we’re walking down the street and a vendor grabs one of my friend’s arms using a significantly-more-than-sufficient amount of force, and tries to pull them into the shop obviously against my friend’s will; this does not sit well with me, especially when it’s not typical (that was the only time in two weeks that any of us were treated like that by a vendor, an the only incident that I’ve heard of like that). I think to say that I am uncomfortable with that makes sense; and to please ask the vendor to let go (both Laura and I asked multiple times) is a reasonable recourse; but when he only pulled harder, with no signs of letting go, I stepped in and forcibly removed his hands from her arms. I appreciate that that is a dangerous move, to get physical with even just one street vendor, but as I outlined above he was not responding to reasonable requests – unfortunately, as I was peeling him off of her, he started shouting something about being attacked and to “shoot this man, shoot the obroni.” However, that was the end of that: nobody go shot, nobody got dragged, and nobody bought a bracelet. It unsettled me though, and I’ve been on my guard every visit to Oxford Street hence.

On a surprisingly lighter note, the orphanage. Today was the beginning of a variety of new themes, each equally deserving of your attention, reader; up first is the discovery of Leon’s dancing, an act so interesting and horrifying that it can only be described by the act itself. As such, expect a link to the first video soon. You have been warned.

Second theme is that of education vs intelligence, broken into two sub-parts, and I would much appreciate you, reader, taking this seriously and reading this all the way through before making a judgment.

I’ve never been solid on my view about “nature vs nurture” – I rather enjoy playing devil’s advocate, but that does nothing to further my own personal views; or at least, it does nothing to help me realize what my views (and judgments) already are. I’m not going to sugarcoat this to save face:

I thought that the kids at the orphanage would not be intellectually on par with kids of a similar age back home, simply by the fact that they are being raised in an educationally inferior system. I say “inferior system” only after asking other volunteers their opinion, helping kids with their homework, and continually hearing stories about the beatings in school. Granted, there is a variety – everything from kids that are trying their hardest to kids that are what the aunties call “clowns” – but this a similar gradient to what I grew up with in the Seattle Public School system, and I should have realized that coming over. In both systems, some kids want to succeed, and some kids don’t; the difference is that here, it’s much harder, but there are equally intelligent kids – they just don’t have any semblance of the support system that we do.

The first part, the catalyst that got me thinking about this, was Spongebob Kid – Atsu – who was going through a battery of tests in school at this point. These tests are the same relative difficulty as anything you would find in the states (I’ve seen them, and compared them to the homework); and like a dedicated student from anywhere in the world, Atsu asked me to help him study for his math exam the next day – he told me his previous test scores, and how he wanted to make them much higher (they weren’t bad – B’s – but he wanted to improve) and when we sat down to do the recommended homework, he did all of it and then a bunch of extra problems; and then he got up and studied on his own from one until three in the morning. That day he was the first to finish his math test, with the highest score in the class. He did similar on his science test; and he got a perfect score on his English test the next day – decide for yourself, is he an inferior student?

The second part was the beginning of chess wars with Moses. This started out as Sudoku wars – unbeknownst to me my new phone had one game on it, and that game was Sudoku (which made me really, really happy); Moses tried one, on easy, and eventually got it, and then challenged me to beat his time. I did, but that only strengthened his resolve – and before I knew it he had pulled out a chessboard and we were getting ready to play. Now, I love chess, not just because it’s a fun game but because it can tell you a lot about the way a person thinks. Today, we played four games – I won three, but two of those were using a particularly nasty opening. Moses beat me one. I’m not a strong chess player by any means – I used to be on chess team, but I haven’t seriously played in well over three years (sad, I know, and I hope that changes in college), but I’m not so horrible either. My strength is usually that I have a strong, central opening; and that during the midgame and endgame I can coordinate aggressive attacks from across the board. However, I have a horrible time predicting my opponents next few moves, and after my strong opening I peter out to a strategically lackluster midgame where I make mistakes – not necessarily huge mistakes, but mistakes. The point is, Moses, who I can guarantee was never in chess club, and doesn’t know those terms, has a very strong midgame; but more than that, he adapted to my playing style much quicker and more effectively than a plenitude of my old opponents back in the day. Taken in conjunction with the fact that he’s a good, confident student, and a good actor, it’s my personal opinion that you could drop him in at least the Spectrum program (top 5% of the public school students) if not the Advanced Placement program (top 1%) and he would thrive.

The point that I’m trying to make here is one that I’m sure you’ve heard a thousand times, but now I can as a firsthand observer say, “Invest in these children’s futures.”

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The third overall theme, not having anything to do with education or intelligence, or logic for that matter, is the curious case of Leon and Jasmin. This is when Jasmine’s troubles started. For the past two days, Jasmine has been coming to hang out at the orphanage after her volunteer placement – and as we found out yesterday, Leon was instantly smitten; as I found out today, he’s serious (or at least pretending to be). This first played out in the form of monopolization – for the entire time the volunteers were at the orphanage, he monopolized Jasmine’s time, aggressively; and then, after he had found out that a group of us were going to get together tonight I had to convince him not to show up (which was harder than it should have been). I told him that I would put in a good word for him, though, if I saw her, which sort of satiated him.

However, I didn’t see her that night, nor Laura; they both stayed in, being tired and in Jasmin’s case, sick as well. The general plan, among a large group of volunteers, was to go to a pub called Ryan’s (which they do every Thursday) – but because neither Laura nor Jasmin were going, I texted the only other person whose number I had, Georgina. She said to just come on by any time, and gave me basic directions – these turned into much more explicit directions after the taxi, not knowing where Ryan’s was, decided to drop me off in front of Frankie’s. Oxford Street at night (it was around 10 PM when I got out at Frankie’s) is not the most reassuring place to be – a lot of people, loud music, crazy drivers; all in the dark, where obrunis are the only things that don’t blend in with the shadows – you feel a bit conspicuous to say the least. Needless to say, I started booking it (calm, fast-walk style), and in conjunction with Georgina’s directions I made it not to Ryan’s, but to a nearby bar called Duplex, owned by Bob the Big Friendly Lebanese Bartender (not his real name, just FYI). When I showed up, I ran into Georgina and two new volunteers, Emma and Jess, both from England; and they were “applying for a job” at Duplex by making shots for the house. Both Georgina and Jess, having worked in bars before, “applied” with what Bob declared unusual shots – but he said they both passed.

On that note of success we all headed down the street to Ryan’s, a surprisingly large, gated bar that was absolutely packed – with mostly guys in their late 20’s to early 30’s. I just made my way to where the rest of the group was (unnoticed because I entered with three ladies) and spent a few hours talking with Georgina, Lauren, and Floriane before heading home for some shut-eye. Needless to say, I was locked out of my room, again, and had to break in, again. I’m getting really too good at this.

Rev'd Trey Lyon

On Saturday evening at our weekly Eucharist, Christ the Redeemer welcomed Rev. Trey and Jennifer Lyon, and their son, Gabe from Town View Baptist Church in Kennesaw. Trey and Jenn were in Pleven, Bulgaria in September, participating in a mission trip to Bulgarian orphanages. Christ the Redeemer sponsored one of the orphanage visits. During the presentation, Jenn shared about the country of Bulgaria and the state-run orphanages that are operated there. The country is having a difficult time establishing themselves economically, given world conditions and the fall of communism in the 1980’s. Their orphanages are run by the various local governments and are in varying stages of disrepair and all seem to exhibit a lack of staff and funding.

The Lyons work with Paul and Judy Ridgway, who are Americans in full-time missionary service to Bulgaria. They have been there for many years and have good relationships with the authorities in each group home. Jenn also told of the visit to Pleven, and the congregation saw pictures of the precious children in that facility. The facility houses children ages 4 to 7, and they all enjoyed the party that was supplied by Christ the Redeemer’s donations.

They described a specific story from Pleven: Christ the Redeemer had chosen a luau theme for the party and decorations, so the goodie bags contained Hawaiian-style leis, flowery stickers, toys and a miniature beach ball for each child. Jenn had told the CTR ladies that there would be 60 children in Pleven, and they provided 61 goodie bags just in case an extra one was needed. As the mission team was preparing for the party, bible story and craft time, Judy mentioned that they’d just found out a 62nd child was at the facility. The child had just been brought there that day after being released from a local hospital. In the last room where they were setting, the team was opening the goodie bags and getting them ready for the children, as this group of children had some developmental disabilities. Judy mentioned that there were now 62 kids, and they would be one bag short. The team was prepared with additional overflow items, so they quickly put together a bag for the new child. Judy was disappointed that there were no extra beach balls realizing this child would not have one. As they unpacked the goodie bags, they found one of our bags had been packed with two miniature beach balls – so all of the children, including the new resident, would get one.

I guess we shouldn’t be surprised at that. After all, the God who knows when a sparrow falls to the ground (Matthew 10:29) would provide for that new child to have the same special toy as the other children. Trey also talked about how this trip brought together several local churches in support of the team’s mission, as a great example of the body of Christ doing small things for the kingdom. Christ the Redeemer is looking forward to supporting this mission next year when they return to Bulgaria.

For more information on this ministry, check out www.ridgwayministries.org and www.bulgarianchild.org.

I requested a friend under a self-assigned pressure a few weeks back if I could drop a visit to House of Hope (an english name it goes by) to give an introductory presentation and a raw food demo. House of Hope is an orphanage situated about 40 minutes outside Jakarta that had been financially funded and in side, run by his (the friend) family. It was a compulsive act, but I was determined to bring myself out of the comfort bubble and start tallying up my public appearances so without over thinking, I picked up the phone and dialed.. no.. I blackberry messenger’ed him sorry, and allot the commitment.

I chose House of Hope because, I have always had dwelled on a ‘problem’ of the expansion of raw food awareness. I drew an inkling of notion that it had been a movement of.. or targeted to those who are able to financially afford the lifestyle and learning of its knowledge, not so much for the under privileged; or at least, one is still yet to be spurred by the thought of actually bringing the introduction into fruition within that sector of audience.

Raw food had gained its followers from the healing of terminal illnesses, reaped benefits of boundless energy, mental clarity, and proven overall health and well-being. Yet, the efforts to raise its awareness I find, often end on the road block of published raw ‘uncook’ books and pay-in courses. What happens to those who are not lavished with such accessibility? Hospital after hospital, medical research after research in quest for a cure that had already existed in the fringe of knowledge but kept isolated like a secret unless someone stumbles upon it by a pull of luck and be able to further the feed of their new interest by paying up for the new hobby. Sure, I admit that the movement is fighting back a lot of skepticism in its concept being as a lifestyle, let alone planting faith in its concept of healing to be recognized. I speculate it is because it has been perceived as no more than just a diet, weight loss tool, or other skin-deep motives. For some people it’s a tough shell to crack. I’m still battling a number of people in my life who now call me anorexic, and ridicule my choice of eating. In fact, I was just celebrated last week for allowing myself to eat a plate of baby back ribs and one girl was particularly ecstatic for I finally eat something ‘normal’ to her definition. In truth, I still eat whatever I want. It is only that most of the time I want raw, and at that time around I wanted the ribs. There is never a restraint.

I accept the fact that it is an idea that will to take some time to sink in. It’s only natural in the sea of modern dieted bodies, so I will not linger on this subject for too long. I just hope I can lead by being a by-product example because words can only get so far until one experiences the claims to self-prove.

Going back to House of Hope. It was the first time after 11 long years of not speaking the Indonesian language, I had to make the 180⁰ switch back to deliver my introduction to 46 kids. All worries aside, the day ended much more successful than I had anticipated. I carefully fabricated a recipe so simple it could not possibly have left any room for mistakes: a batch of dessert truffles made out of apples, dates, and shredded coconut coating. I sampled one and left the rest in their hands. Job done.

More photos here.

-Dom

]]> http://miqdadsibtain.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/a-dissimilar-characteristic%e2%80%a6/ Mon, 23 Nov 2009 09:11:45 +0000 miqdadsibtain http://miqdadsibtain.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/a-dissimilar-characteristic%e2%80%a6/

The last couple of weeks have held more excitement and general crappiness than I care for. I aim to live as simple and drama-free life as possible (which is seriously like the complete opposite of how I used to be), and so when shit happens, I feel the stress and tension very keenly and sink a few feet into depression. Not fun. Really, it’s not. Don’t try this at home.

As I work my way past some crap that’s recently transpired, I still have life to attend to; specifically, life with kids aging from 3-12 or the oldies aging from 50-60. They are the pillars of society residing in orphanages and old homes. Life with a 3-year-old who is himself going through his own transitions at the same time that he has to sort out all the shit and not living in the same house anymore. He is adjusting far better than I ever dreamed, but it’s nothing short of foolish to think he’s not struggling. Because he is, and I can see it.

And to say that it makes me ache in the most awful way is an understatement. I am so aware of him, his moods and behaviors, that when I see this thing in him that I can’t identify but which clearly indicates some kind of pain or confusion in him, it sends me into an emotional tailspin. How do I handle it? How can I comfort him? What do I have to do to make it better, and more, to keep the scarring to a minimum?

I am thankful that overall, this guy seems to be o.k. There has been no red flag, no one thing that stands out as a warning that this situation might be effing him up – and believe me, I have both eyes open for it. Still, I can’t help but wonder if even if he grows up with this as his *normal* – will there be any lashing out at his end? Will he be all out of sorts for years because life with me is, and will always be, different than life with his father and mother, even if we work together on making it a loving, healthy life? Will he come to resent and blame me?

Things have happened – things are happening – that fill me with questions as to how to help him be a well-adjusted, mentally and emotionally healthy person. Between regular growing pains and this period of adjustment, a lot can be gained, and a lot can be lost.

I just want to find the right balance.

Człowiek-sam; osoba metafizycznie pusta, jest samotna absolutnie. Wielość spotkań ze znajomymi i nieznanymi, jak i zarówno harmiderowaty charakter przetaczania się przez życie, nie jest w stanie obalić smutnej potęgi owej prawdy.
Doświadczenia uczą człowieka – przynajmniej powinny – jak wewnętrzną czeluść wypełnić kolejną trwalszą substancją, która miałaby biedę, przekształcić w stabilny dobrobyt. Jednak problem polega na tym, ze można poświecić życie dla patologii utrapienia – choroby wcale nie cywilizacyjnej, lecz globalnej, a raczej globowej (aby nie kojarzyło się z globalizmem).
Pycha łącząca się z ego nie pozwala wejrzeć w mądrzejszych; zaślepia postrzeganie na to co widzialne, i ot mamy nowe filozoficzne izmy przepowiadające życie jako proces nieustannego samobójstwa. Samo myślenie w niczym nie pomaga; czyż to nie myśl zrodziła zbrodnie? Czyż człowiek nie zaczął myśleć z dobrobytu-przesytu? Wegetarianizmy, seksualizmy, utylitaryzmy, pacyfizmy, izmoizmy, izmyizo, nieszczęścioizmy rodzą się tam gdzie nie ma ubogich. Gdzie nie ma człowieka-uBoga. Zatem szczęście wszędzie jest możliwe, gdzie człowiek tam Bóg, gdzie Bóg tam szczęście.
Nie muszę się wysilać, aby w swoich przeżyciach odnaleźć rozum utracony, uwikłany w teorie, zaizmowany; prawie totalnie. Jednak Niebo jest Niebieskie zawsze, i przysyłało mi Aniołów krytyków, którym zależało na wyzwoleniu mnie z prometejskiej męki…
Zycie jest wojną. Momenty zwrotne wyznaczają bitwy, które zaprawiają ducha, do każdej następnej. Jest to jedyna wojna, w której śmierć poniesie każdy. Jednak nie każdy zostanie jej bohaterem. Warto się starać, tym bardziej, iż nie wiemy kiedy nastanie ostatnie starcie.
Ostatnie tygodnie są dla mnie mocarnym bojem. Nie jestem wolny od nihilizmów, nie pogodzonych emocji, infinitywnych pragnień, jak i myśli o fioletowym niebie. Momentami było krwawo – było, bo każdy dzień jest nowym dniem.
W ubiegłym tygodniu w internecie podczas poszukiwań katolickiego księdza w okolicy, natrafiłem na informacje o działalności polskiego ojca kamilianina Zygmunta Niedźwiedzia nie daleko Gyumri w prowincji Shirak, w Ashotsk, szpitalu ufundowanym przez Watykan. Napisałem bystro maila, ojciec błyskawicznie zareagował na moją odezwę z wiadomością, o tym, ze w Gyumri codziennie odprawiane są dwie msze katolickie. Szukając zatem dalej trafiłem wczoraj do Ordynariatu Kościoła Katolickiego obrządku ormiańskiego dla Europy Wschodniej. Na miejscu spotkałem Ks. Nersesa Galustjana, który studiował na… KULu, a świecenia przyjął właśnie w Lublinie. Ożywiła się we mnie martwota…
Dzisiaj o 10.00 przybyłem do kaplicy w budynku Ordynariatu, przez sakrament pojednania, uczestnictwo we mszy, podczas której śpiew dziewczęcego chóru wspomagał ducha w modlitwie, czuje, ze zmienia się dla mnie Armenia. Po mszy, ksiądz Nerses poprosił mnie, abym powiedział parę slow do wiernych o swoim wolontariacie i ogólnych spostrzeżeniach z głębi serca, razem z Duchem Świętym.
Po celebracji, razem z Andrea i Ania, zostaliśmy zaproszeni przez siostrę Arousiag Sajonian; przełożoną zgromadzenia Ormiańskich Sióstr Niepokalanego Poczęcia, na obiad do “Our Lady Of Armenia Boghossian Educational Center”, które jest przez nich prowadzone. Wśród 35-cio osobowej gromadki dzieci, które zamieszkują siostrzaną szkolę; a zarazem w ciszy, która jest gotowością dla modlitwy. Spędzając pół dnia wśród Kwiatów, widzę piękno…

Inspirując się Tomaszem a Kempis, zakończę: w Tym życiu doskonałość, jest niedoskonałością, a siła bezsilnością.

Experiences teach people –at least they should – how to fulfil the inner depths with another durable substance which would transform the misery into a stable prosperity. But the problem is that one can devote his life to a pathology of worries – a disease not particularly connected with civilization, but a global one.

The vainglory merging with ego don’t let one look into the wisdom. It blinds the perception restricting it to what is visible. So that, we have some new philosophical “isms” foreshadowing life as the process of ceaseless suicides. Even thinking doesn’t help much – wasn’t it the thought which bore the fruit of crime? Haven’t people started thinking because of the fullness of prosperity? Vegetarianisms, sexualisms, utilitarianisms, pacifisms, isoisms, ismyiso, “misfortune-isms” – they all are born where the poor aren’t present. Where there is no man – “atGod”. Happiness is feasible everywhere. Where is God, there is a man – where is God, happiness is present.

I don’t have to strive to find in my memory a “lost reason” which is entangled which theories almost completely. Nevertheless, the Sky is always blue, and it sent me Angels – critics who cared about my release from the torments of Prometheus. Life is war. Battles are marked as turning points which are to train the spirit to face another fight. It’s the only war when everyone dies. But not everyone is a hero. It’s worth doing your best because no one knows when the last battle is.

The last weeks have been an intense battle. I’m not free from nihilisms, unreconciled emotions, endless desires, and thoughts about a violet sky. Sometimes it was bloody – it was, because every day is a new day.

Last week, when I was searching for a catholic priest in the Internet, I came across some information about an activity of Zygmunt Niedźwiedź – a Polish Camillian – near Gyumri in the province of Shirak, in Ashotsk, in the hospital funded by the Vatican. I wrote an e – mail and the Father responded quickly informing me that everyday there are two Holy Masses requested in Gyumri. So that I went to the Catholic Church Ordinate of an Armenian rite for the East Europe. There I met Father Nerses Galustjan, who was studying at….the Catholic University of Lublin, and took holy orders in Lublin. My torpor weakened…

Today at 10 o’clock I arrived at the Ordinate building. Through the confession and the participation in the Mass – during which girls’ choir singing was supporting my spirit in the prayer – I feel Armenia is changing. After the Mass, Father Nerses asked me to tell some words to the worshippers about my voluntary and general observations – from the bottom of my heart and with the Holy Spirit.
After the celebration, together with Andrea and Ania, I was invited for a dinner to “our Lady of Armenia Boghossian Educational Centre” by nun Arousiag Sajonian – the Mother Superior from the Congregation of Armenian Catholic Sisters of Immaculate Conception. Among thirty five – person cluster of kids, who live in the sisterly school, and in the silence preparing for the prayer I spent half a day accompanied by the Flowers and I can see the beauty…
Being inspired by Thomas à Kempis I can finish: in this life perfection means imperfection, and strength – weakness.

This is a dream from the other night.

I was walking through a neighborhood in FL (where I live), and it was pretty hot out. I was getting REALLY sick of the heat, when I came upon a large 3-story house with SNOW in the front yard!
Amazed, I walked towards the yard, and saw a sign that said something about it being a manufactured snow area (I don’t recall the exact wording on the sign), and it said that it was $20/person to get in.
Of course, I just snuck onto the property without anyone noticing, because there were already about 30 people there already (it was a very large front yard).
Eventually, I found out that the property (house and all) was owned by Rosie O’Donnell, and she had turned it into an orphanage.
Today, she had purchased an artificial snow machine so that all of the children could enjoy winter.

I started to make a snowman, and then Rosie announced that the area was closed for the day, and that everybody had to leave.

Then I woke up.

Zycie w Gyumri, poprzez wolniejszy upływ czasu, pomaga mi zajrzeć do tych zakamarków rzeczywistości, które trwają same w sobie poza powszechną zmiennością rzeczy. W jednym z takich zaułków, spotykam się z radością, jaką niesie konfrontowanie umysłu z innym umysłem za pomocą szachów.
W przestrzeniach Armeńskich i Gruzińskich miast można spotkać grających (przeważnie panów, nie widziałem jeszcze kobiet) w szachy; bądź w tavle. Dzisiaj nie wyobrażam sobie tutejszych krajobrazów bez dźwięków uderzających o drewnianą plansze kostek, czy emocji towarzyszących zarówno graczom, jak i obserwatorom szachowej partii.
A ze, i u nas w mieszkaniu natknęliśmy się na zakratkowane pudełko, to od miesiąca oddajemy się z Andrea mózgochłonnym potyczkom…

Chłonna idea gry wyszła z murów, i zaistniała w domu dziecka; być może przyszły champion mieszka właśnie tam. Dla przypomnienia; dziewiąty mistrz świata w szachach Tigran Petrosjan był Ormianinem.

Duzo uciechy bierze się również z nauczania. Myślę, ze każdy pamięta swojego pierwszego szachowego nauczyciela (w moim przypadku był nim mój tata), dzięki tej nauce można wpisać się w życie człowieka, ktory jestem przekonany, nie zapomni kto pierwszy ukazał jak ruszyć na podbój czarno-białego królestwa. Na czas dzisiejszy mam okazje nauczać najmłodsze pokolenie rodziny Tatosa, i jednego młodzieńca z tatosowej siłowni… Odważę się na wyrażenie, iż szachy to gra idealna. Jest w niej zarówno serce, jak i umysł, a sama gra jak modlitwa zaprawia Ducha.

Mam propozycje dla czytelników, abyśmy zagrali korespondencyjnie. Polega to na tym, iż mailowo podaje się współrzędne ruchu. Zapraszam do umysłowych zbliżeń.

PS. Obecnie w Antalyi w Turcji rozgrywają się mistrzostwa świata juniorów

In Armenian and Georgian city spaces one can meet people playing chess (mainly men, I haven’t seen a woman yet); or tavli. Now, I just can’t imagine the local scenery without the sounds of dice hitting against the wooden board, or emotions accompanying both players and watchers. What’s more, even at our apartment, we found a white and black checked box. So that, for a month, I and Andrea have been giving ourselves over the mind – absorbing battles…

The absorptive idea of the game left the apartment walls and came into being in the orphanage; maybe the future champion lives right there. I case of reminding: the ninth world chess champion Tigran Petrosjan came from Armenia.

A lot of pleasure comes from teaching. I believe that everyone remembers their first chess master (in my case it was my father). Thanks to the teaching, it is possible to become an inherent part of somebody’s life. I am certain, that the learners won’t forget who showed them how to run for the conquest of the black and white kingdom. As of today, I have an opportunity to teach the youngest generation of Tatos’ family , and one youngster from Tatos’ gym. Chess, dare I say it, is the ideal game. There is both a heart and mind. The game, just like a prayer, train the Spirit.

I’ve got a proposition for the readers to play by mail. The only thing is to give the coordinates of the movement. I encourage to the mind challenge.

Gerçekten önerdiğim bir korku filmidir.Bilgilerinide yazdım. ” Devamını Okuyun ” butonuna basıp izliyebilirsiniz.

Evlat edinilen Laura, büyüdüğü yetimhaneden yedi yaşında ayrılır. Yıllar sonra kocası ile binayı elden geçirmek ve burayı sakat çocuklar için bir bakım evi haline getirmek için yetimhaneye geri dönerler.
Ancak bu dönüşün hasta oğulları Simon üzerinde tuhaf etkileri olur. Simon, sürekli garip bir yaratığın resimlerini çizmektedir. Bu resimler, Laura’da kendi çocukluğuna dair bir şeyler uyandırmaktadır. Simon, kısa bir süre ortadan kaybolur. Laura, önce polisin ardından da bir medyumun yardımı ile oğlunu aramaya başlar. Laura, oğlu Simon ile kendi kaderinin 30 yıl önce bu binada kalan yetim çocuklarla kesiştiğini fark edecektir.

Yönetmen: Juan Antonio Bayona
Senaryo: Sergio G. Sánchez
Oyuncular: Belén Rueda, Fernando Cayo, Roger Príncep, Mabel Rivera, Montserrat Carulla
Filmin Türü: Korku, Gerilim, Dram
Orijinal Adı: El Orfanato
Yapım Yılı: 2007
Yapım Ülkesi: Meksika, İspanya
Orijinal Dili: İspanyolca Filmin
Süresi: 105 dakika

Arkadaşlar şuan video yüklemede sorun yaşıyorum o yüzden buyrun:

http://www.iyiturk.net/yetimhane.html

This Monday, November 23 is Japan’s Labour Thanksgiving Day (勤労感謝の日, Kinrō Kansha no Hi).

This national holiday was established in 1948 as an occasion for praising labor, celebrating production and giving one another thanks. Prior to the establishment of this holiday, November 23rd was celebrated as an imperial harvest festival called Niiname-sai (新嘗祭).

This is a story about how a family in Pennsylvania became connected with Orphan Helpers. Doreen, her daughter Joanna, and her daughter’s friend, Abby narrate.

So how did we find Orphan Helpers? It started with our first mission trip [not with Orphan Helpers] to Honduras. We spent only a few hours at Nueva Esperanza, and this is where we left our hearts, my 14 yr. old daughter, myself and her friends. We were determined we would go back again, but didn’t want it to be only a 3 hour visit. When our church returned to Honduras this past year we stayed behind and were determined to find an organization that solely focuses on Honduran orphanages.

With our first search, to our surprise, we found photos of Nueva Esperanza and some of the children we ministered to on Orphan Helpers website. Must have been God! After several email contacts and phone calls we planned a road trip to Orphan Helpers headquarters in VA to meet those who share the same heart for these little ones and were making the way for others to help. It was Orphan Helpers or bust!

Visions_Beyond_the_Veil_by_H_A_Baker

This is a book by an early 1900’s missionary named HA Baker.  He was a missionary to Tibet China and Formosa.

The book is about revival that broke out in the orphanage on children who were previously beggars.  They saw visions of heaven, hell, angels demons etc.

Although it is nearly 90 pages long, please read it in its entirety.

I am going back to the place I love.

To the place where my heart is.

I am going back to:

Pilar De Esperanza

Alabanza Dios!

Seriously, prais the Lord.

I leave in two days

-liz

♦  Once you get your children’s support for the project (and don’t stop trying until you do), tell them your general plans for it, and ask for ideas and suggestions on how they want it to be.  Be open to whatever they suggest, and respond positively by saying, “We’ll see if we can do that…”  instead of “That’s not practical…”

♦  Involve everyone in the preparations.  After making the announcement, let everyone know that each of them has a task to do in preparing for this first-of-its- kind family activity.  Give them a run-down of the different tasks to be done and ask each of them to choose where they would want to help—making arrangements with the orphanage or some other charitable institution to settle the date of the visit, collecting old toys and old clothes, preparing food giveaways, or whatever else you might include in your plan.  Of course, the younger kids will just be expected to help out while the older ones can be given the responsibility to bigger tasks. 

♦  In making plans with your kids, always be open about the budget that you are prepared to allocate for the affair.  Make them understand that it is important to remain within budget.

♦  The activity can be as simple as bringing donations of sacks of rice, canned goods, toys and clothes, and distributing these to the beneficiaries.  Or you may want to make it a full-blown affair, complete entertainment numbers.

♦ If your kids want to invite some of their friends along, let them.  Their friends can contribute to their activity and spread the spirit at the same time.  Just make sure they ask permission from their parents.

♦  And on the Holiday Season’s Eve itself, during your usual Season’s Eve, talk about this unique experience.  Ask your kids to share what they thought and how they felt about your family activity.  Start off the evening by praying.  This will put meaning and solemnity to all other merry-making activities you have prepared for the night.

Doing a good turn to the less fortunate should make our children realize that not all kids are as lucky as they are.  This new Holiday Season tradition should make them appreciate what they have, while teaching them the true meaning of giving and sharing.

Ignore my bad singing! It was just to get them to not be so shy and start singing along. They know all the words and they’re just so darn adorable! By the way I love how Christiana is like, “Miss press it?” because she wasn’t sure if she should press the button.

     For the last month or so I have been thinking about how to present and introduce you to a new friend of mine.  He is a wonderful brother in the Lord and has a very powerful, wonderful, persecuted and much needed ministry in Africa.  The timing is an absolute must now!  The letter email below comes from Rev.  Sebastian Ombima, founder of World Revival Evangelistic Ministries, Eldoret, Kenya, East Africa.

“Dear Prayer partners,

    ”My orphanage administrator wrote me a message below stressing the overwhelming needs at the orphanage.  This comes at a time when we have many other needs for the Church and ministry.  Please, pray for us and as the Lord leads your support will be so helpful.  Blessings!

Rev Ombima”

“Praise Jesus, Rev.  Just wanted to inform you that the food stock has expired and if anything is not done, the children will be starving.  Yours, Jescah”  

Will you at least pray?

Please check out their website and respond as the Lord would have you do.  Prayer is always most crucial, true Spirit led prayer that is!  Pray that the Lord will open up the store houses upon the children and most importantly Christ will be shown to every man, woman and child.

To contact, support or send an encouraging word to Rev. Sebastian Ombima directly, email him at: rev_ombima@yahoo.co.uk 

Remember to sign up for our UrgencytoRise book give-a-way.

Click here.

having my hair braided like hannah montana!

So far today was interesting to say the least. This morning the dogs start going crazy as I’m hanging out my laundry. The electric company had sent a van out to come and turn our electric off. Not exactly something you want to hear when it’s 90 degrees and fans are your lifeline to not living in a cold shower. However, I knew we had paid so I called our land lady. There was a misunderstanding on the part of the electric company and our land lady got it sorted out. They came back and turned it back on while I was at the orphanage, so that was good. However, the morning was warm, warm, warm!  I could’ve gone onto campus early if I hadn’t already started marinating the chicken to cook  before I left.

Anyway, it got worked out and that’s good. I handled it a lot better then I thought I would. I just reminded myself that today was the last day at the orphanage and it was better to come with a big smile on my face then looking like I was crushed that we didn’t have power. There’s a lot that these kids don’t have and my problem was trivial in comparison.

Thankfully it turned out that we should be able to come back to the orphanage in the next couple of weeks so today didn’t actually have to end up being the last day.  The kids love the sunglasses we wear so much so I sent an email to Forever 21, asking them to donate some pairs for the kids to keep. They said I’d need to call their corporate office so I’m going to do that tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll be able to.  If not I’ll just try and raise the money myself. I’d really like to be able to get those for them. The only thing is it would have to be twenty pairs of all the same sunglasses. Otherwise they would fight over them.

Today we played on the swings and the monkey bars and saw caterpillars and golden apples. I got my hair braided by like, seven kids at once! It was painful as anything but they kept swearing I would look just like “Miss Hannah Montana” so of course I had to let them keep doing it! We sang Rihanna and Miley Cyrus. It’s just nice to see the kids so happy.

Josh’s presentation went well today and he’s in the running for re-election for SGA! Everybody think good thoughts for him.

Anyway, I should get back to the dishes because unfortunately, no matter how many times a day I wash them there still seems to be a pile a few minutes later!

malcolm loves taking pictures.

chilling out on the balcony in the shade.

boys will be boys!

christiana rocking the sunglasses!

he was eating golden apples and they make a mess of your face!

they love to show off for miss michelle.

monkeying around with julia and the gang on the monkeybars!

playing a clapping game.

the future rock star!

brent measuring the kids' heights.

they LOVE sunglasses!

]]> http://newlywedsingrenada.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/swing-life-away/ Tue, 17 Nov 2009 00:55:39 +0000 imambergome http://newlywedsingrenada.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/swing-life-away/

swinging at the orphanage!

If you have a spare 25 minutes please make time to watch the latest edition of Unreported World on Channel 4, it is available to view at the ’4On Demand’ website for the next 27 days (until 13th December 2009).  I warn you though, it will make you cry.

The presenter Yemi Ipaye visits a number of child widows living in the South-West of the country.  Their situations are desperate.  One girl was married at 11 and widowed at 13.  She was married off at a young age because the dowry paid by the parents is less the younger the bride is.  Now she is viewed as a burden by her parents who beat and verbally abuse her; she will not be married again as she is now perceived as being bad luck and is blamed for the death of her husband.  Like many widows she may need to resort to prostitution to provide for herself.

The Hindu belief in reincarnation makes it clear that bad luck in this life is determined by past sins in a previous life.  Therefore young widows are ostracised by society and insulted, they are treated as if they were evil and are isolated and become the ‘living dead’, the title of the program.  In the past in Nepal sati was practiced.  This is the ritual suicide of a wife when her husband dies.  It was carried out by the widow climbing onto the funeral pyre of her husband and burning alive.  The practice was outlawed across Nepal and India a century ago but the prejudice and stigma that enforced it remains today.  It seems that a widow’s life is worth nothing.

A widow in Kathmandu described how she had been asked to leave her home when her landlord discovered she was a widow.  Now she no longer tells anyone, simply lying that her husband is working overseas.  She is impoverished and has had to send her two children to an orphanage because she can not look after them. 

Women Without Roofs supports women that are on their own either because they are widowed or their husband is missing.  Please help us to help more women like these.

“How fair is a garden amid the trials and passions of existence.”  -Benjamin Disraeli

“Plants give us oxygen for the lungs and for the soul.”  -Linda Solegato

“You have to do your own growing no matter how tall your grandfather was.” -Abraham Lincoln

Lately I have gotten my hands dirty with the art of gardening.  We have two huertos here at the albergue, one smaller one in which the kids and Susannah, one of the volunteers, do much of the work, and a  larger one that is handled more so by one of the workers (Marcos) and myself.  We have an assortment of plants, from tomatoes and lucuma, to lettuce, cilantro, and pepinillo!

At first gardening just bugged me because it seemed like its only component was weeding the soil; not the most exciting part of your day.  But then it revealed itself as more detailed and delicate, and I have since realized it as an intrinsically beautiful process.  Each plant has its own specific needs and requires a particular type of care.  For example, something I recently did was help set up an apparatus so that our pepinillo plants could grow vertically.  Another example:  I constructed a sort of shield for various avocado plants.  And of course, the watering must be monitored, along with fumigation, nutrient intake, and freedom from weeds.

But the benefits one reaps from gardening are numerous.  Besides from the physical and economical advantages (and not to mention the quality of the fruit and vegetables), there is an internal blossoming that occurs inside the gardener.   The process of tending to the land, caring for it, monitoring it, and seeing the joyous result of the fruit of the labor (chiefly the work of the earth) evokes a desire to continue in this inherently glorious undertaking.  Just as the plants are on their way to maturation, a seed has been planted inside of me and a love for gardening is being cultivated.

It really is a bit uncanny the process of gardening because it is a delicate, internal joy one receives, as if it unlocks something deep inside of you.   I believe that God created us as well as the plants and animals.  We were created by Him the Creator.  Therefore, perhaps when we lend our hands in growing these plants, we access another trait of the Creator who formed us.

Gardening can certainly be likened to our interaction and hearts for the children here.  We try to train them, discipline them, provide for them and love them so that they grow up well, and we see the progress bit by bit.  Recently I’ve begun to tutor an 11-year old boy named Samir.  Samir is smart kid that has some issues with exerting himself and anger.  He also is a very closed person in that he has a hard time accepting love and believing that people want the best for him.  He and I usually start things off with some sort of recreational activity, move onto his homework, occasionally do a little pleasure reading, and then close in prayer.  The first time with him was very tough, as he didn’t want to cooperate and just shut down.  However, praise God, our time together has been developing, and though my hope is that our relationship deepens, we enjoy more quality time together, he’s generally happier, his behavior has improved, and he’s been doing better in school.  Just like a plant, the fruit can be seen bit by bit.  However, there is still a long way to go, and I would appreciate keep us in your prayers.

It’s no coincidence we can learn a lot from plants.  Jesus also talks about them quite a bit, including in His explanation of the parable of the sower and abiding in Him as He is the true vine.

I’d like to share with you an anecdote that serves as another example of growing up.  Recently Marita, an energetic and rambunctious girl here, slammed a door in her casita, and Rosario, a sprightly housemate of Marita’s, happened to be right by.  Well, Rosario was left with a significant cut on the eye brow and had to go to a clinic to get stitches.  However, her brother Pedro bubbled with wrath as a result of this accident and frankly wanted to knock Marita out.  I talked with him that night and he was running on strict emotion, his anger taking the driver’s seat.  Thank God, he didn’t go after her, and the next day I got to have a good conversation with him.  He no longer wanted to hit her, and we talked about how anger can overcome you.  I empathized with him, sharing that I’ve experienced the same flooding sensation of fury, and we talked about how Jesus wants us to offer the other cheek instead of hitting back.  It was amazing to converse with him about an important subject and see the night and day change in him from less than 24 hours before.  He even expressed that this albergue is a blessing.  Pedro has a good heart that is blossoming, and it is in moments like these that you see the fruits of the labor being done here at Hogar de Esperanza.

That’s it for this post folks!  Please keep us all here in your thoughts and prayers, we are always in need of the latter!

And of course, enjoy some photos!