One Week

Next Sunday is my last in Belfast.

(so strange to type that!)

This week and the next have been / will be full of packing, spending time with friends and trying to visit all the places I've put off til the end. Oh, yeah - and the 12th of July is in there somewhere. That's a whole other post...

FMPCI team at dinner

Even though my room is slowly emptying, it still hasn't sunk in that my time here is coming to an end. I'm not sure when it will feel real - my final service at Fortwilliam and Macrory? Saying goodbye to my fellow YAVs before I head on holiday? Getting on the plane to America? Three months from now in the middle of the night?

Making progress...

So I guess in addition to general "what's happening-ness", part of this post is a sort of apology... if I've had to say goodbye to you already and it didn't quite have the weight of "I might never see you again" attached - it's because it isn't quite real to me yet. I will definitely miss everyone here!

Vine - volunteer appreciation lunch

Reflections from Scotland

We returned from our final YAV retreat earlier this week, and after some consideration I don't think I can do it justice with one of my typical rundown posts. In short, I LOVED Scotland... which surprised me for some reason. We spent time as a group in Edinburgh and Iona, then the boys and I spent some extra time in Glasgow. Each city had its own flavor and special moments, so I will just pull a few excerpts from my private journal:

On a train, click-clickity-clacking through the Scottish countryside. I love it here.... I have this intense desire to never leave this place. 

Kathryn and I at the Storytelling Centre

We spent the past two days in Edinburgh. I never really left the touristy areas, but loved the city all the same.  ... The city itself seems to have pride in storytelling. Kathryn, TJ, David and I went on a ghost tour last night, after a day that involved hiking Arthur's Seat, learning about a social enterprise for homeless people in the Grassmarket, lunch at the place where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, ... and an afternoon exploring Edinburgh Castle.

Even with my camera there's no way I could adequately capture fields of wildflowers against a soft blue sky. Grass so green. Do these colours even exist back home?

(OK, you caught me: this photo isn't from Scotland)

(after a service loosely based on Ecclesiastes 3)
We went to the evening service at the Abbey, and as a part of the prayer the officiant read out the familiar "a time for..." and we were meant to add our wordless prayers. So when she said something, I tried my best to feel it - as a way to see what I associate with that emotion ... A time for gratitude: C.'s smile. 

I sit now on a ferry, watching Mull slip into the distance as we return to the mainland. Iona was like a dream.

We took a trip today through the Scottish Highlands to Glen Coe and Loch Ness. The thought of following in the footsteps of my ancestors on this trip (first Iona, now this place) is so strange, but incredibly powerful.

Photo credit: David Mills

As we entered the bus terminal, we saw a chilling sight: groups of well-dressed men and women with signs and brochures proclaiming the gospel - ignoring the shivering, barefoot man sitting just feet away. How often do I do the same - literally, or figuratively? 

To see the rest of my Scotland photos (warning: there are several!), click here.

Ch- ch- changes

Sorry for the long silence - recently it's been that every time I sit down to write, I pull a giant blank. So I've decided to just write through all the weirdness and fill you in on a bit of YAV life to date...

The weather in Belfast has been uncharacteristically gorgeous, so we've all been in a super, sunshine-induced happiness which is awesome after months of cold, grey rain. Hanging just on the periphery, however is the knowledge that our time here is coming to an end. This is bittersweet: on one hand we're all excited to see family and friends, but on the other we're sad to see this year end. I've become so close to this group, the idea of being scattered across the country next year is really hard. We've been taking every opportunity to spend time together, take day trips to places we haven't been yet and soak up everything we can before we go.

Day trip to Derry / Londonderry

Things are wrapping up at work as well. Last week was my final Bible Study and prayer group, today is my last homework club. Mums and Tots and JAFFA end next week. While I'll have other tasks to fill the time, I've often said that this year has been about building relationships, and many of these will come to an end when I'm not at the Vine each week.

Dinner with my Bible Study group

As I prepare to go, people keep asking what I'll do when I get home. The truth is, I have no real clue. At orientation, they warned us that re-entry would be difficult. So I've effectively had a year to worry about fitting back into "my life" when I return. To be fair, I've not been too concerned about it for most of my time here, but as the date of my return flight inches closer, the worry begins to mount.

So now I see the changes that have gone on back home while I've been gone - new relationships, marriages, babies, jobs, houses... and I'm afraid that the "home" I'm sick for doesn't exist anymore. Self-reflection is hard - and while I've not seen myself change, I've been told by others that they've seen a change in me. It's weird to think you don't even know yourself anymore.

So yes, there are lots of thoughts floating around in my head, and I'm not really always sure how to feel about them, much less express them. So for now, please just be patient with me while I try to figure it out!

Greetings from sunny Belfast!

All Being Well

"All Being Well" - a phrase I've come to know and love during my time here in Belfast. Typically, it's used when making plans: "I'll see you Sunday then, all being well." I love it because it serves as a reminder that things happen... plans change.

It brings to mind a similar concept I learned during my time in Morocco: Insha'Allah (Inshallah), which means God willing, or if God wills it. This was said whenever we made plans. A constant reminder that our plans are not really our own, that we are reliant on God's will in everything we do.

Part of this was entirely practical in a culture like Morocco, because plans often changed due to unforeseeable circumstances. We became used to saying, "Tomorrow we will go into the city, Inshallah," knowing that in reality our bus might be broken or the person we were supposed to meet was no longer available. I've tried to remember this concept over the years, which at some times is easier than others. There are many variants on the theme: Inshallah, All Being Well, and my personal favorite, "God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise."

13 Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city. We will spend a year there. We will buy and sell and make money.” 14 You don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? It is a mist that appears for a little while. Then it disappears. 15 Instead, you should say, “If it pleases the Lord, we will live and do this or that.”

James 4:13-15 (NIRV)

I'm trying to extend myself grace as I make plans for the next few months. The honest truth is that I don't even have an inkling of what the future holds for me. And I'm getting closer to being okay with that. Inshallah.

A moment for reflection

At lunch today, I mentioned to another of the young adults in our lunch group that my last Sunday at Fortwilliam and Macrory would be July 14th. After which, I will be packing up for a bit of travel before heading home. This was soon followed by the realization that today is April 14th, making it exactly 3 months before I leave Belfast.

This is so strange. I know that time is flying, but this feels a little extreme. There is still so much here I want to learn and do before my time is up!  But as much as I want to soak it all up here, my mind has already started to drift back to Louisville - clearing up my resume for the impending job search, pulling my old landlord's contact info out of the files - but in reality I have so much still left to experience here.

I've had this discussion with some of the other YAVs, about this strange limbo between Northern Ireland and the States, knowing that many of our projects are wrapping up soon for the summer, and that the next batch of Volunteers are making their first steps toward fundraising and preparing for their new life-changing experience. Like many of the emotions I've experienced this year, trying to put it all into words somehow seems so daunting. Maybe someday I'll be able to do it justice.

Yesterday was a pretty average day... until it wasn't.

If you read my last post, you know that on Thursdays I go to lunch club, then homework club, then make the 2 mile walk back to my house for a quick meal before BB. It turns out, however, that yesterday wasn't quite so average.

We had a few people missing at lunch club, so I switched up my regular seat at my regular table to balance it out a bit. The conversation I joined at the ladies' table was heartbreaking, as they talked about how it felt to get older and lose respect from their children (last Sunday was Mother's Day in the UK). Everyone just assumes that since their bodies are breaking down, so are their minds - and anyone who's ever met these ladies will know that is absolutely not the case!

Fast forward to my walk home. I remembered that tomorrow (today) is my day to provide treats for our staff meeting, so I popped into Tesco. As I'm ringing up, I see this older gentleman struggling to lift a basket from the pile. He is stooped over so far that he's practically bent in half, and he shuffles his crutches back and forth in an attempt to lift it. He asks my cashier to give him a plastic bag instead, since it is easier for him to carry. I asked him if it would be okay for me to get his items for him, so I leave my groceries at the front and begin to search for the items on his short list as the Tesco employees find him a chair. Everyone chips in to help me look for sesame seeds.

Once the list is complete, I ask him if there's anything else. He says that he likes to buy the bread on special to feed the birds, but if I have time to carry the basket he'll come with me. We shuffle slowly around the store, not finding bread but picking up sweets for his wife (because they're her favorite). He tells me his name (let's call him G), and that his back is sore from too many years with a pick ax in the garden. A feather could knock him over, he says. Just standing to speak with me, he often comes close to losing his balance. He's one of 13 siblings, and his brother died 3 weeks shy of his 102nd birthday (the Queen sent a letter for his 101st, the President of Ireland sent a check). Oh yeah, did I mention G was 92 years old?

I begin to wonder why G is shopping alone. Is he the strongest of the two of them? I wonder if he has children, or if he has fallen out with them in the same way as the ladies from lunch. If they're too busy to notice his struggle. He makes me miss my grandpa. I think of my recent conversation with my grandma, and how much she appreciates my mom coming by so often to visit. Does my mom even know? (OK, now you do.)

Sometimes, you meet people that just stick with you for one reason or another. For whatever reason, my short time with G was enough to know that I will never see the world in the same way again.

6 Months

It hit me today that 6 months from today, I'll be boarding a plane back to the states. It is so strange to think that I'm already halfway through my year in Belfast.

Looking back, I'm sure there are a lot of ways I've changed and adapted to being here. I've learned so much about myself. I've proven that I'm stronger than I think, that I can move to a foreign country, that I can navigate a new city. I've formed friendships both within the YAV program, and in the places I work.

(Most of) the Saturday night Youth Club team

I get to work with kids who are rowdy and hyper and "do my head in" (that's Belfast for "drive me crazy") on a regular basis, but who are also hilarious and smart and fill me with so much joy. Today, C. didn't see me in homework club and asked where I was (I was right behind her); M. asked how much longer until I had to go home (prompting my aforementioned realization). Her granny says she caught her practicing her American accent at home: "I'm Tricia, and I'm from America!"

Working on "maths" in Homework Club

I know I don't always focus on my day-to-day activities on this blog - mostly because it sounds boring when I list it out: helping with homework, teaching kids to make pretzels, reading stories to the Boys' Brigade or serving lunch to pensioners. But what I'm really doing is forming relationships. Letting these people into my heart... which will make that moment when I board a plane 6 months from now so much more difficult.

Story time in Boys' Brigade

All I can do now is make the most of the time I have left!

Celebrating the small victories

You may have noticed that I occasionally talk about "small victories" here, and I've always meant to say a bit more about why. So when I found an article a few months ago about The Secret to Happiness and Productivity at Work (spoiler alert: it's keeping track of small victories), I copied the link and put it aside into my "this-would-be-good-to-blog-about" file. With the realization that identifying small victories isn't just helpful for YAVs, I thought I'd finally get around to sharing it.

As I mentioned in August, I attended a week-long YAV orientation before I came to Belfast. Every Young Adult Volunteer for the 2012-13 year went to New York to get to know one another, but also to prepare ourselves for a year of mission service, whether it be in Nashville or Kenya. We were joined by former YAVs who told us their stories in preparation for the challenges we might face - learning about culture shock, self-care and community living.

One of the people we met was Ellie Roscher, who wrote the book How Coffee Saved My Life: And Other Stories of Stumbling to Grace, based on her year in Uruguay. She was cheerful and funny and dynamic, and told horror stories about dietary challenges and personality conflicts. Based on her experiences, some of the advice she gave was to shift what a "victory" means. She talked about changing her definition of success and motivating herself by celebrating the small victories each day. I will include some of my favorites from her list here:

I laughed more than I cried. 
I won the affection of preschoolers. 
I did things that scared me every day. 
I wore only two pairs of pants all year. 
I came to believe that my worth does not, indeed, depend on my productivity.
I taught Ignacio how to tie his shoes and blow bubbles with gum.

 Ellie Roscher, How Coffee Saved My Life

Sometimes, I am good at this. Like this post, or this one. Most of the time, I'm not. I get caught up in busy schedules or rainy days, and I get grumpy. I add up the grievances as the day goes on: "...I lost my keys, so I missed my bus. I had to walk in the rain and my iPod died. Now I'm late, wet and annoyed." This leaves me with a negative view of the entire day, and by letting these thoughts consume me I push out all opportunities to see the good. What if instead of adding up the negatives each day, I tallied the best parts?

I've learned that if you think negative thoughts long enough they will consume your reality, and that's not the kind of person I want to be. So I have decided that when presented with a choice, I will choose to be positive. Enjoy the walk, the fresh air and exercise, the chance to clear my head. To see the rainbow instead of the rain.

No. It is not easy. I've been working on this for weeks and I've failed miserably at just about every opportunity. I've justified it to myself as "being honest about my true feelings", but the truth is that a good attitude can become a good habit with practice, even if that means faking it until you make it.

So in that spirit, some of my more recent accomplishments:

• Remembered to take the recycling to the kerb (curb) this morning
• Was greeted with a huge grin by a wee boy from mums and tots
• Finished a very detailed report at work - it was so great to cross that off the list!
• Completed my first solo overnight travel to Dublin 

What about you? What are your victories (large or small) this week?

Facing History

This has been a very full week, and I will do my best to synthesize all the thoughts running around in my head into one semi-coherent thought!

With Amanda at
TITANIC Belfast

First things first: last Tuesday, I had my first visitors! OK, so Amanda was really in Ireland to visit her family, but I was totally the beneficiary of this trip when they came to Belfast on my day off and I was able to go do "touristy" things with them. I was particularly excited to take the bus tour, hoping to receive new insights on the murals which Doug had only touched on in passing during orientation. As it turns out, Doug is such a fantastic tour guide that he gave us more information in passing throughout the city than the fellow whose job it is to provide this service! Hooray for Doug!

It was interesting, however, to see the murals through a different lens. I've begun to see how people can quickly categorize others around here, as the perspective of this nameless tour bus driver was quite different from those I've experienced... so my first thought was automatically, "I wonder if he grew up in a Nationalist neighborhood?"

On Wednesday, Anna, David and I went to an event hosted by David's placement site, the WAVE Trauma Centre (introduced here). As part of their week-long Autumn Seminar Series, they hosted a night exploring the use of comedy as a peace-building tool. It was an interesting insight into a coping mechanism of those living in Belfast at the height of the Troubles.

The following night, WAVE hosted a discussion of the film Judgment at Nuremburg as an example of their Facing History series. Clips from the video were shown interspersed with discussion about the psychiatry of compliance and conformity of the German population. Of course, for an Anthro/Soc nerd like me, it was a blast hearing Durkheim's collective consciousness discussed in casual conversation... but the heart of the conversation seemed to carry through my experiences for the rest of the week. Essentially about what it meant, both in Nazi Germany and Belfast at the height of the Troubles, to be an ordinary person in extraordinary circumstances, and individual complicity therein. How do we move past this to rebuild a healthy society?

On Friday, my coworkers from Fortwilliam and Macrory went to the old Crumlin Gaol (jail) for the unveiling of a report given for Bridge of Hope, a program of the local Ashton Community Trust, entitled Transitional Justice: Grassroots Engagement. I was intrigued by this model, exploring the place where conflict ends and rebuilding begins. Much like the discussion on Thursday night, there was a focus on the high costs related to the "survival skill" of moving forward from conflict without looking back and recognizing where you've been.

Transitional Justice launch
at Crumlin Gaol

The goal of this report was to look at the past and to have those difficult conversations, in an attempt to show the young people in their communities that they are committed to moving forward and ensuring a future that is peaceful and prosperous for future generations. 

The Transitional Justice model has five key pillars: 

1. Truth-seeking and fact-finding
2. Trials / criminal accountability
3. Reparations
4. Institutional reform
5. Memorialization and collective memory

In essence, as a trust-building measure each party must be willing to listen to the other about their disparate experiences related to the same conflict. Different neighborhoods in Belfast have different experiences of the Troubles, which highlights a deep divide in this society. Much like the Judgement at Nuremburg film, it is important to face the truth of our past to help the survivors of this conflict, to recognize that harm has been done or trust has been broken, and to step up to the responsibilities of individual needs that arise from this. It is important to recognize where mistakes were made or systems were flawed in order to move forward efficiently, but it would be a disservice to those who have been affected by past injustices to move forward without recognizing the realities of this past.

The very location of the event was meaningful in that the jail is where many political prisoners were held during the Troubles until the building was decommissioned in 1996. For reference: the report states that 30,000 people spent time in prison due to the conflict. Many of these former prisoners have been internationally recognized as playing a positive and critical role in conflict transformation. A few of these were instrumental in this project, and in attendance at this event, which made me wonder what it would be like to go back in such a different time - facades repaired, cells repainted... completely whitewashed for public consumption.

    Original cells in unfinished side                                          Refurbished cells for public tours

      Dirty, peeling paint and general disrepair                      What a difference a fresh coat of paint makes!

In the spirit of looking back, next weekend is the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Ulster Covenant. This document essentially stated at the time that the undersigned would like to remain loyal to King George (and by extension remain a part of the United Kingdom), and is still very important to many people in this community. The key phrase included, however, is "...defending,... using all means which may be found necessary...", which has been used by some as a rallying cry for violence. With this important anniversary approaching, as well as the recent uproar over parades, much of the city is bracing itself for potential unrest to occur over the next few weeks. It remains to be seen whether this concern will be valid. 

I realize that this post has expanded to record length, so I will leave you with words from my supervisor at Fortwilliam & Macrory, the imitable Reverend Lesley Carroll:

"In the short-term we face a parade on September 29th with the potential to have civil unrest around it. In the longer-term we face the challenge of how to live with each other even after all these years. We face the challenge of how to let each other off hooks, how to do things that will help the other side to trust us and step out on new roads of relationship. We face the challenge of building and not tearing down, of offering hope to young people who as things stand right now don’t even have the hope of a job, at least not many of them. We face the challenge of working out what mutual respect actually means and looks like in society. We face the challenge of what to do about the truths yet to be revealed and we kid ourselves that a good dose of some truths will put things back the way they should be with the good people looking after the governance and the bad people either shamed or in jail. It simply won’t work. In the longer-term there is much to be faced."

Rev. Lesley Carroll

(I encourage you to visit this page and read the rest of her post on transitional justice.)

Clumsy

Anyone who has ever met me can testify to the fact that I am not exactly graceful.

Yes, I'm the girl who got a concussion playing ultimate frisbee, broke her nose playing sharks and minnows, sprained her ankle on a first date. The girl who was actually referred to physical therapy for being accident-prone.

But for once, it's not that type of "clumsy" that I'm talking about. The type of clumsy I mean is referred to in Exodus, chapter 4:

But Moses pleaded with the LORD, "O Lord, I'm just not a good speaker. I never have been, and I'm not now, even after you have spoken to me. I'm clumsy with words."

Exodus 4:10

This passage comes soon after Moses' call in the wilderness (pop over to my flat-mate Anna's blog for the particularly insightful discussion of Exodus 3 which inspired this post). While I don't have Moses' stutter, it is difficult for me to share my faith with a crowd (remember that post about avoiding seminary?). I always feel that things come out wrong or I'll say something stupid - so I avoid it. My cousin's wife kindly asked me to read a blessing at their wedding last month, and I was touched. But when I realized she meant pray, spontaneously, in front of hundreds of guests... I panicked.

So, I get what you must be thinking: "this girl has essentially signed up to be a missionary for a year, and praying in front of people gives her palpitations. She must be cuckoo for cocoa puffs." (Your inner monologue is so sassy, Reader!)

I know that for the most part, I've kept the tone of this blog light and focused on my preparations and excitement for the adventure I'm embarking upon. But while I've always felt this year as a Young Adult Volunteer has been the response to an unmistakable calling, it's easier to get caught up in the details of the trip itself than to face my very real fears about what will happen when I get to Belfast.

In my previous work with youth, my greatest concerns have been relatively trivial: Will we have enough food at youth group? Would the kids rather play laser tag or go rollerskating? The youth I've had the pleasure of spending time with for the past 7 years have been for the most part happy, privileged and well-adjusted. I don't know how I will be able to reach kids with such a vastly different upbringing.

Together, the Northern Ireland team will be learning to understand and interpret another culture.  It's intimidating to know that I still have so much to learn about the community I'll be living in, but we are tasked with bringing an outside perspective to the communities in which we serve. I know that my mission is a ministry of presence - to be there for these kids and make them feel loved and special. But even though I consider it a special gift to love people, that doesn't mean that I know what I'm doing - I have constant fears of inadequacy and failure. I wonder if I can really do anything to make their lives better.

For those wondering, I eventually flustered my way through the prayer at my cousin's wedding with only two or three "ums" (yes, someone counted for me). I let it go to God, and while I still have no idea what I actually said, I survived the experience. People actually came up and complimented me later... I will pretend it was because I said something meaningful, and not that they saw me break into tears as soon as it was over. I figure that with this coming adventure, that's all I can do: put it in God's hands and hope I don't make a fool of myself!