CATCH! Fundraising Efforts

This summer is coming up on us quickly! That means we are launching our biggest program of the year, CATCH!'s Summer Reading. We will be going into 10 neighborhoods this year. It will make for an excellent and busy summer. We could use your help.

CATCH! needs to raise $1000 dollars in the next two weeks to give the program a boost for the summer. The money raised for this event will go to funding the carnival at the beginning of the summer, the neighborhood parties at the end of the summer, fuel and publications.

Thank you to all ahead of time who plan to support the efforts of CATCH!

To Be on Not to Be

It needs to be known right off of the top that "Yes!" CATCH! is an organization that is run by people that follow Jesus Christ as our savior and Lord, Robert & Debbie Weisel. We are in no way ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We strive to be led on a daily, moment by moment basis by God. We not only believe in Him but we also pray, listen and attempt to follow, however imperfectly. We absolutely NEED Him!

Many of you who know me have never seen me write this down so publicly. I have said these things many times but not written them down. Why? Because I believe that writing is NOT fluid. It is black and white and is interpreted in the readers mind, not necessarily as the writer intended it to be. Therefore I don't typically write about things that are this close to my heart. I do not wish for this conversation to be misinterpreted. However because of a question I was asked lately I have decided to write about this.

Important things:
Religion: God is God. His truth will prevail. He will speak and teach those who will listen. He created us. He loves us. He loves all of those He created...not just those who talk to Him. He yearns for those who don't communicate with Him. Therefore religion is a man made thing but God is God.

He loves Muslims, Hindus, Buddists, Agnostics, Christians, Orthodox, etc...... He loves.

Love:
We believe that we should love as God loves. In the Bible, the book that Robert & I follow... we are called to love. Please do not get us wrong. We do not believe that Love equals always be nice, always sweet, always soft. For some who have seen us in action you know that love means getting in your face and telling you to knock it off now! Depending on the topic we can really not be nice. If you are in a fist fight, going upstairs in ignorance to be raped by five guys or doing drugs like meth, you will never find a "NICE" Robert or Debbie. You will however find loving Robert & Debbie. If not for our love we would simply go have coffee somewhere and let you be raped. Instead we stand fight and yell even occasionally cuss if we need to get your attention!

A Bible story goes this way:
A woman was caught in the act of adultery by the pharisees. They brought her to Jesus (it is my thought that they tossed her cruelly at the feet of Jesus). It was a test. Now he would have to break the law. But Jesus because He loved the prostitute did not say "It's OK. don't worry." Instead he look at the pharisees and said "those of you who have not sinned cast the first stone." The Bible does not say whether his voice was sappy sweet, whether He was yelling at them or whether He was obviously angry. I tend to believe that He was good and angry, a righteous anger. I so love His righteous anger and yet am so deeply afraid of it, as I should be.
I also wonder where the guy was that she was caught with. How did those Pharisees know right where to find her? Was her current employer standing right there in the crowd with all of his buddies the Pharisees watching? Hmmm...

Community:
A place where people know each other, respect each other, need each other and work together to a specific end... raising healthy kids, having a good life, keeping their surroundings safe, etc.

One day a couple of summers ago- I stood in a neighborhood watching kids play. It had been an odd day. On that day earlier- I was standing at the edge of the playground giggling with kids when a young man walked up to me who had been hit in the head with a stick. The bump was big. He was brought to me. We got an ice pack. We called his mom and the Dr. As mom was coming to take him to the doc a white van pulled up. (please remember we were standing on the edge of the playground where at least 30 kids from all over the world were playing.) As all of this was happening a white van with five passengers pulled up. The driver had a huge bottle of opened alcohol in his hand along with the steering wheel. The door to the middle of the van opened to let a very drunk black man fall out, to drunk to walk. An adult came from the edge of the playground and walked him home. When the body of the man fell it opened a view to the middle seats. A man from another country and a women from this country, were in those seats being very, hmmmm.... can't say it here as kids could read.... but let me say it startled me and I have seen plenty of gross. This was grosser. One of the adults in the community moved in front of the door quickly while another got it shut.
The woman in the passenger seat had obviously consumed plenty of the same beverage as her driver. She was a woman between 30 and 40, very heavy, unkempt and drunk. She staggered to where I stood with the young man, tried to pull him from me and planted a kiss on his head. "Cmere I will take care of you. Cmon!" I said calmly "His mom's on the way." Refusing to let him move from my side. She pushed harder and I said "No" there was no nice in me at that moment. I let her know the mom was on the way again. She thought about hitting me. I thought about what I would do if for the first time in my life I got slugged. She realized she couldn't do it. Robert came and gently, kindly moved them on so as to diffuse the situation. Thank goodness for the protection of my husband. Someone had called the police. So by the time the van had moved a few blocks the police were on them.

It was after this afternoon, where so many people had done so many things and worked together to protect each other that I understood the phrase so important to Africans. "It takes a Village." I knew I was a part of their village.


Relationship:
Inside of the community that we live in there are many Muslims, so many I have lost track. Some are very devout while others have a so-so belief and still other drink, a little or a lot and even eat pork but still use the label Muslim. The same can be said for the people of the other religions that we know including the Christians. The labels therefore have lost their meanings for me. In truth I don't believe them only in God and His Son do I believe.

We have a Muslim man who has gone away to visit his country for a few months. He calls us regularly because he misses us. We miss him. He wants us to check on his family. We do.
We know a JW woman who loves us and trusts us so much her children and ours blend together as one. They fight together, play together and are bored with each other as siblings are. She doesn't knock on my front door nor I on hers.
We know a Hindu man who is learning to know us and we him. What each of us sees so far we like so we eat together, work together and get more acquainted.


Fast Fruit:
Many people of different religions want "fast fruit" They want the fruit to appear on the tree. They do not want to ready to soil, research how best to water and feed the tree. They do not want to think about what is the best for the tree as a whole they only want to reach up and grab a piece of fruit at the first of April when they want it, not in October when it is ready.

I liken this kind of "sharing the gospel" to a notch on someones bedpost. Yes I know this sounds contemptuous, and the reason would be that I have GREAT contempt for this. I believe that type of evangelism is done not for the person receiving but for the person telling. There is no thought about whether the receiver is ready, only of the reward for the person telling. It is a selfish thing. It is not only bad for the one piece of fruit but for the tree itself.

Seasons:
For everything there is a season. One must wait, work, plow, feed, water, and research the best ways so that one day far away God will drop a beautiful piece of luscious fruit at your feet. All the sweeter because of the tender care and love that the tree has been given.

A young man for whom I grieve:
As I tell this story I guarantee I will cry. It happened so many years ago and still I cry....when it comes to my mind in its entirety.

A young man came from a war. He had been in the war. It, as all wars, was an ugly war. He had been shot right through both face cheeks. When he came here he went through surgeries to repair his face. He was a kind spirited young man. He worked hard. He brought his sister and her children to America so he could take care of them. He brought his elderly parents as well. To take care of them.
He came. He wasn't a major drinker or smoker. He was quiet and soft spoken.

When Robert & I were young in ministry we did not want to be selfish with the gift God had given us of people. We wanted others to come with us. One year a church wanted to give gifts on Christmas. A few gifts on Christmas was great. Instead within days of knowing this family this group of volunteers had given house loads (literally) of stuff to them. As the leader of the family, this young man felt the burden on honoring the people who had given. As a Muslim man, they took him to an Evangelical church. His family followed him. He was asked to translate the Bible for his family and friends in this setting. He did it out of honor for the new friends who had given so much.

As time moved on, a few months, this small group of people continued to teach the Bible. While we watched from inside of the community. This young man was ridiculed for his teaching of the Bible. His family slowly pittered away and no longer came to the church. He left after the last of them were gone. He was stuck between cultural honor of someone who had helped and his community as a whole and his community.

Because we had introduced this family to him, the young man became cold to us. To prove his manhood inside the community he started to drink hard, to smoke more and was dabbling in drugs. He was angry, confused. After a few years of silence he was just beginning to talk to us, to warm up to us again when... he made a bad decision. He was a little tipsy and decided to drive.

He died, unconscious, drunk, in three inches of water. He had driven drunk, run off of the road and died. This game of "fast fruit" ended his life.

At his funeral, I stood under a tree working to regain my composure, when the woman who led the Bible brigade came to me, talking as if we were on the same team. "I just couldn't work with them anymore." she said "I haven't seen them in years. It was like throwing pearls before swine." Do you remember that righteous anger I spoke of earlier? This is the first time I remember the true flow of that kind of anger in my veins. I was angry. We love to think that we "give" the gospel. So often it is not true. Instead we "take"

The cost:
Christ gave His life here on earth. He didn't just die. He lived for us while he was here. He taught us. He loved us. He died for us and most important He rose again for us. Death was not the end. Only the glorious beginning.

The cost for us:
A life daily lived for God. A young man we love died wrong. We no longer share the lives of the people we love freely. If you want to work with us on a daily basis you too will have to earn a relationship, with us and with them, love the people and care more for them more then you do your own "fast fruit" reward system. This is not fast fruit. It is love. We take very seriously the present God has given us in the community that is around us. We must love. The type of love God gives us throughout the span of time we are on earth, before that time on earth and after the end of our time on earth. I write this down because of my love for all. As we share the pearls God has given us please do so with love, knowing this is God's season for the person and not just fast fruit. Blessings. Debbie

Scavenger List

Would love your help getting the pieces of the carnival together.

 
 

If you can help with an item on our list put your name by it and let us know.

 
 

Refrigerator boxes

Washer and dryer boxes

 
 

Robert and I had a lot of fun last week watching the great progress that CATCH! volunteers have made over the summer reading to children and creating relationships with them.

Monday night -we went out and watched more kids then even we knew were in the neighborhood gather for games, cupcakes and juice. We played lots of games and had a lot of laughs.

Koelsch Elementary gave us books last year. We handed part of them out that night. As I left I turned to see the whole field filled with children sitting in groups on the grass flipping through the pages. Even the elders of the community, who had been given books for their families, sat at the table flipping through the pages talking about the books. It was great to see.

I had almost reached our car when I felt a little hand tuck itself into mine. I looked down to see a small child. He looked up at me and said "Why won't you let the people come any more on Monday nights?" It was a bittersweet question but I knew then that the kids had been caught by CATCH!

The next morning I was at the Langauge Academy when a mother and a group of children came in. Some of the kids had been at the party the night before and started talking about it. They were laughing and having fun remembering it. The mother asked what we were talking about. I told her about the Summer Reading Program. She then... and this I couldn't believe... started selling me on the neighborhood she lives in and telling me who was there and why it is so important that we do reading there. Fortunately this neighborhood is on my list for next year.

Tuesday Night- We again had a great time watching kids play games and again more children came out of the woodwork. This neighborhood has a lot of the new families that Robert & I are currently working to put into school. They had just met us in the past two weeks so it was fun to see them venture out and come bravely to the party. We were able to hand out at least fifty books that night.

At this party the question came "What are we going to do next? What do you guys have planned?" As we left this neighborhood, a group of mothers who have often sat together on the outskirts of the reading caught up with Robert & I and thanked us. We want to pass the thanks on to the volunteers of CATCH! You guys did a great job- showing up regularly and getting to know the kids. THANKS!

Wednesday Night- This neighborhood is our newest neighborhood. We were only able to put one team in it this summer but what a great team they were. It was made up of a natural teacher, a high school young lady who we put in school when she was a refugee six years ago and her blessed mother who came and helped out. Again lots of children came and enjoyed the games and snacks.

This is a neighborhood that we don't know very well yet so we had to rely on our volunteers who know the neighborhood and the kids better then we. It was a blessing to see the kids run up the them and interact.

One of the kids from one of our other neighborhoods ran up to me when she saw me and said "You guys are here too?! Cool! I'm gonna' move here so I can still see you guys. All my cousins are here." It is all about relationships.

I watched Robert as he sat, arm around a Burundian man, one of his friends. They were having a long conversation in French. They laughed and they talked and they enjoyed each other. When we left I asked what they had been talking about. Robert said that one of the main things was summer reading. The man was requesting that we plan to have the reading time more then one time a week and talking about why it is so important to the kids. The parents love this!

Thursday Night (Party One) was quite a night. We had two parties that night. The first party was with a small neighborhood. When we rolled into the neighborhood I overheard two volunteers having a conversation about where the third one was. They pointed to the van so we all knew she was in the area. Just as we were wondering we saw her. She was coming down the road with one (perhaps) two children hanging from her back, children beside her, children walking backwards in front of her and children following. We had found our missing volunteer. She delivered them to the hill and off we went. Robert played games with the kids, red rover, red light green light and finally freeze tag and then a tired bunch sat on the hill to listen to a book. CATCH! volunteers handed out cupcakes and juice to many kids and then we passed out books. These books were different books as one of the vounteers had been given them. She has about 400!!! We will be passing out books for a long time! YAY!

I watched one child. She would be given a book- run to a nearby rock. Sit and read the book quickly and then bring it back timidly at first- bravely later as she was greeted happily. A volunteer would trade her books and she would repeat the action. She did this several times until finally someone understood what she was doing and happily pulled a small stack of books out for her to take home and read at her leisure.

Another young boy- eyes wide- pleading- asked if he could have more then one book. I ask you- if someone wants to read more then one book should they be turned away? I think not! He too was presented with a small stack of books and told to take them home. The smile was worth so much!!


Thursday Night (Party Two) The Weisel family pulled into the second neighborhood at about 8:30. We were a tired crew but were so looking forward to this last party. In this neighborhood early on the idea had come up of showing a movie outside for the last night. When we got there a makeshift screen comprised of a sheet had been put up. A table with electronic gadgets was in place and the screen was lit and ready to show a movie. I put the blanket that we have been carrying in our car this summer for just such a purpose, down on the grass and plopped down. Robert went over to check on volunteers and my children were immediately lost in a sea of children, favorite friends. As I watched I saw more volunteers come into the neighborhood (this neighborhood was full of readers this year- a team on every night here).

Two volunteers were carrying bags of candy and passing them out to other people sitting on blankets or in chairs. Two other volunteers brought in laundry baskets full of neatly bagged popcorn.

I felt like I was literally in heaven. Or at least the place I pray for all of the time. On blankets all around me were Americans (who lived in the neighborhood or were volunteering), Bhutanese, Burmese, Burundians, Iraqis, Iranians, Sudanese, Mexican, Congolese, the few Armenians (Robert had company that night) and others I am certain to have forgotten. Turkish men gathered together watching the movie and chatting. Turkish women on the sidewalk, mothers and fathers, families sitting together. My favorite blankets of all were the ones that contained Turkish boys laughing next to African children who had lifted handfuls of popcorn up to their mouth but had gotten so involved in the action on the screen they had forgotten to get the popcorn all of the way to they mouths.

Then there was the little girl. One of our volunteers had joined me on our blanket. My husband was with the guys, my boys with their pals and our daughter had stayed with me. A little girl who spoke no English but had a great smile had joined her. My daughter leaned on my arm. The little girl smiled at me and my friend. We smiled back. The little girl moved closer to us. Then in between us and by the time we had gotten well into the movie she was happily wedged onto the lap of my friend, smiling away.

It was a great week. I have said we were blessed this summer with great volunteers and hopefully now you can see even better why it is that I think so. They love the kids that are so important to us.


For those of you who love stats

5 neighborhoods
4 nights a wk (at most)
27 volunteers
4000 reads. That means that the numbers reported to me by volunteers means that children often the same kids came to reading in the neighborhoods and we had 2000 contacts. That is good anyway you count it!!

Please don’t forget we are still in need of school supplies. School starts on Monday August 25^th for most of our kids!

Here is a link to our supply list http://www.catchlife.net/get-involved.html

If it would be more convenient we can purchase the supplies for you. Check out the “MAKE A DONATION” button.

THANKS CATCH! VOLUNTEERS!!!

That Darn Question

Talking to people is always interesting, especially in this work. Again a family came to meet us and again the subject of "where is your father" came up. I have learned not to ask this question with any casualty. If the question comes up I do all I can to control the selfish urge to plug my ears and begin humming loudly. But alas the question comes up and I hold tight waiting for the answer.

The answers to that question range from "don't know" to "we're divorced" to "he was blown up by a suicide bomber." or "killed by vehabija."

What do I learn from the answers to that question.

*to be grateful
*to be aware of others-everyone has their own set of experiences they are dealing with.
*to be very careful what I feel the luxury to complain about. It could always be so much worse.

I was also so very pleased and grateful to the Serbian military for their work of the past months. Check out the latest news! It is absolutely thrilling!

http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/k/radovan_karadzic/index.html?excamp=GGGNkaradzicnews&WT.srch=1&WT.mc_ev=click&WT.mc_id=GN-S-E-GG-NA-S-karadzic_news

Summer Reading So Far!!

It has been such a long time since I was able to come here and sit down and write a blog. It has been a very busy and fruitful time. I decided to share with you the progress of summer reading thus far.

We have five neighborhoods going this summer. We have been blessed with 30 volunteers and a few more waiting in the wings for training times to come up so we can plug them in.

Another first we are doing this year is that one of the kids we registered in school seven years ago is now volunteering for us as a reader. That is fun. She needs volunteer hours for her school and we love having her.

It has been a great summer thus far and we are just getting started.

Come join us for summer reading!

Mr. Jay Comes to Dinner

Thursday was Jay Clark's birthday! Robert called him and invited him to dinner. I had it all planned out. We had chicken in the freezer, potatoes and corn. Joy would bake cake and we were set. I felt so organized and ready to go when I woke up in the morning.

Then Rachel called. The girls were staying home from school to pack while she was at work. Would I show them where boxes were? I took them to find boxes. During this time Robert is at a school working.

It was an early release so I took Joetta to her new school to meet her teachers and get ready as well as see her new apartment. Then finally about two o'clock I took them all home after getting as many boxes as I could find.

When I dropped them off I saw a translator I had been trying to reach. I grabbed him, called a school, set up a meeting, made arrangements to let the family know and put another meeting on my schedule for next week.

Robert & I got home and began to talk about dinner for Jay. I got called because a Sudanese family's foodstamps hadn't come and the mother was worried about feeding her children for the weekend.

I went and got them and headed to H&W. She and I and her five kids sat around a waiting room...waiting.

While we were there a Bantu family walked in. The oldest daughter had an issue that I needed to visit the family for so we were able to talk about it there. One thing off of my plate, just need to follow up now. The same family requested our help with school- they had one child ready for "K" and another ready for Headstart. I made a call to Headstart while I was sitting there.

As we are still sitting there waiting, a Turkish family came in. Again they had school aged kids and they were moving. Could we help them change the children's schools (four kids, three schools?). I added it to my schedule for next week.

We went in to the office. I was actually very impressed with the H&W office. The caseworke that narrated on this case yesterday was very kind. She was patient with 5 kids in her office. We walked out with food stamps for the kids by 5pm. We had started this process at 3:30pm. I really didn't expect that!

As I am taking this family home- I call Robert to see if he can start working on dinner. He had pulled the chicken. We had one large pack of legs and a large pack of breasts that had mistakenly gotten put away in the freezer before we had portioned it out. I was bummed. We only needed enough for 7 people and had food for a lot more people. Robert & I decided to cook it all and we would just eat a lot of chicken left overs.

As I was dropping the family home I watched the kids walking away. They have been wanting to come to our house since last summer. They love our two youngest children so they asked me to say "Hi" to them. I looked at them, thought of how much my kids would love to see them, thought about Jay and how much he likes these two kids and decided to ask their mother if I could take them for the night. Yes! Nine people instead of 7.

On the way home I went to the store to get potatoes. As we were walking up to the door the kids saw the girl scouts selling cookies. "Can we get some?" I see behind the table one of the
women we work with and enjoy at one of our schools. I stop to say "Hi" and buy a box of cookies.

I walk in the store. When I walk up to the produce I saw two people from my past who obviously hadn't seen each other for a long time. I stopped with my two charges to talk with them. Again one of them was involved in an organization that Robert and I had wanted to refresh our knowledge of and partner with again. I found out they have a meeting tonight. "Do I want to come?" (that is still up in the air- I really want to sleep)

We check out- I talk a bit to the cashier that I see almost on a daily basis and then I head home. On the way home my phone rings. A Kenyan friend of mine needs to visit a friend in trouble at the hospital. Can she bring her three year old over for a couple of hours? "Sure." I say "Has she eaten?" No. Ten for dinner.

I get home with my charges. My children yell from their rooms and come tearing down to greet their friends. Robert and the kids have cleaned the house very well, put the chicken in the oven and peeled the potatoes we had.

I peel potatoes, get the table set and Jay comes. He and Robert sit and talk for awhile. F and her three year old daughter come. I ask F if she has eaten. No, but she needs to get to the hospital. "Do you want me to save you some?" She would love that. 11 for dinner.

I am putting food on the table...the phone rings...it is Joetta. One of the kids in her neighborhood , who is one of our cases has gotten hurt. He hit his head very hard and is walking around the neighborhood, scared, not listening, making no sense and acting paranoid. Can Robert come? He and Joy leave. Jay, our kids, visiting kids and I sit down to eat. Robert spends time trying to find the boy and get the boy come with him to the hospital. to Robert delivers boy, father of boy, brother of boy, and translator to the emergency room. When all had settled down and he was no longer needed at the hospital he leaves for home and dinner.

Robert is home, Jay and he are talking, S comes, I serve her the plate I have saved for her dinner. We eat a birthday cake and sing "Happy Birthday to Jay" the reason we are here. At nine Jay leaves for another appointment. God bless Jay. He isn't upset that all of these people crashed his birthday. Instead he enjoys it, laughs with the kids and blesses all of us.

I take S and together we deliver my charges home. When we get back to my home S and I sit and down and talk until midnight about issues she is dealing with.

The food that was too much hours ago is now just enough. The five pound sack of potatoes is gone, the large bag of corn is gone, there are a couple of pieces of chicken for someones lunch today and one last piece of cake.

This is not an unusually busy day at our home. Instead it can be fairly normal. We walk around, we meet new people or we know people. With almost every encounter during the day a request for action is made from us. We have to draw our boundaries tightly because of this. Some things we will do, some we send to others, and some we just won't do.

As for dinner- a typical American home I believe asks a certain group of people to dinner @ 6pm. They come, have a great time and the guests leave graciously around 9pm. In all of the other cultures we work in being invited is rude and means that you really don't like the person. It is normal for people to just come by around dinner time and eat with you. It is also rude if a guest leaves a few hours after dinner or if you expect your guest to leave.

Yes, I know we are in America and that people need to learn our ways... However they often know our ways and miss some of their own. They miss that connection that you get spending time around food talking and laughing. It is amazing the relationships that we build sitting at their table or our own. Thanks Jay for letting so many people crash your party!

Friends!

It is so fun when you get to make contact with a friend that you have not spoken to in a long time and find that they are doing very well and making a significant difference in the lives of people around them.

This week I "googled" someone I had been thinking about a lot and found her. Check out this link and see what great things she is doing!

http://oregonstate.edu/leadership/president/2007Report/eda.php

Eda and her family were good friends of mine before I got married when I lived in Oregon. They came to Robert and my wedding and for years we made the trip up to Oregon to see them until kids made the trip more difficult. We eventually just lost contact. I am so excited to see what she has been up to over the years.

Good job Eda!

I Woke in the Middle of the Night...Thinking

My first waking thought at 4:59am was of a friend of mine.

Two summers ago, I remember sitting in the van with a Russian translator waiting for a Turkish lady to bring her children to us. I saw the door open and out came a beautiful woman wearing a powder blue suit with white piping. Her dark black hair was pulled up neatly in back. She carried a little blue purse that matched her outfit.

She moved her four children then nine months, 4 yrs, 9 yrs and 12 yrs along until they reached the car. When she got to the car I smiled at her introduced myself and helped everyone into the car. We went to our office to begin the process of registration for school.

Robert was at the office along with our children. We were met by our oldest daughter who had already begun to set the table for our guests. She had set tea out with cookies, nuts and candy. Our guest, L, sat down elegantly on a chair and began to drink her tea.

I had known from the minute I saw her leaving her front door that I would like her. She had a ready smile, a husband she enjoyed and loved and children who she felt the same about. She was a strong woman who had been through times of difficulty and was stronger for it. Not bitter and vengeful. I liked her. I like her.

One day not long after that first day, we went as a family to their home and visited, ate dinner with them. Monthly visits became a norm for us. Then one evening she was obviously having a difficult time. I asked her about it. Her husband told us that she had been to the doctor that day and been given the results of tests. She had cancer. Aggressive cancer. I went home and cried.

At the end of this summer she called me. I was sitting at a picnic table with my family meeting our children's new teacher when the call came in. I had been trying to reach her but had been unable to so I excused myself and took the call. I will never forget it. She said "Hello" and we talked small talk for a bit then she told me why she had called. She had neighbors who needed our help. "Would we help?" I said we would and then I asked about her, how was she? Her composure left. She started to cry. "I am still very sick. I am so sick that I cannot cook. Because I cannot cook my father-in-law left. He moved to NY." She cried. I let her. She struggled to regain her composure. I promised to visit her.

Over the next few months I tried to. But when I would got into her neighborhood without another refugee or without my own children she was never home. Finally again the other day she called. This time she got my message machine. I was in a meeting that I could not get out of. She said to my machine "Hello. This is L. I hope you remember me. I need your help. Can you call me when you are able?"

When I called her back I found a very hurting woman. Her cancer had gotten much worse. She had been doing so much chemo that often she was incredibly sick. A few times she had heard me at the door or on the phone but had been unable to get up to answer the door. Her husband had gotten a job and over the fall his job had taken a down turn. So in order to keep his job he had to work out of town. He had been out of town for the last twenty days. So now she was alone. Three of her children were at school now all day long and her youngest, Iy, was at home with her. Now he is three. He is a very active child. On the morning I called we talked about her trouble. She needs a place for Iy to stay during the day when they are alone. A place for him to play with other children, to be active. She told me what had happened the day before. She had chemo and had come home. She was so sick that she couldn't answer my call when I called. She couldn't answer the door. She couldn't move. She had just laid there crying. Her husband was 200 miles away and had been gone for 20 days. She and Iy were the only ones home and he had gotten so angry with her for not moving that he had started to hit her and scream at her.

This dear reader is the thought that awoke me this morning. Christmas is over. People will be getting back to business as usual and now I must begin research. I must find a good and safe place for Iy to go when his mother is sick. I will begin today with cancer support groups trying to find a place not only for him but for her as well. A way for them to be taken care of.

If you, are a prayer...please pray for me today. Pray for magic to happen and for God to bring the exact right person into this situation.

Ohhh... How I wish I had a picture

I got up early yesterday morning and headed out. Robert was at school and so I needed to do a bus appointment and I needed to get to a school for a registration. I was feeling a bit tense.

I was sitting in the car waiting in traffic when I first noticed the rain. It had been raining since I left the house but the rain was changing. A flake of snow had just dropped onto my windshield. Three days before Thanksgiving, it felt like spring yesterday, and now it was snowing. Ugh! was my first most honest thought.

As I drove on I noticed that snow was beginning to collect on the last remaining leaves, on the trees, it was building up on roof tops and it was laying on the ground. I arrived at my destination, pulled up to the apartment building and went to get my charge. Her very tall African father answered the door. He greeted me... in French... I spoke back in Haitian Creole...we got through it and then I remembered the snow. "Garde" I said "Ou bezwen garde sa. Neige... My friend gave me a funny look. "Neige?" He asked questioning. I realized he understood the word neige in the same way that I know the word cyclone. I know the word but I don't really know what a cyclone is so if I ever saw one I would not know what I was looking at or what to do. I realized that I was going to be able to experience someone seeing snow for the first time. It has been awhile since I have been able to show someone snow for the first time. I love doing it. It makes me happy.

So "A", my charges father followed me out, onto the sidewalk. A tall, thin, barefoot, African man. He bent over a bit and looked out around the corner to where it was snowing. I said "touche?" (touch). A huge grin covered his face. When he grins his whole face changes color, his cheeks become full and lines around his mouth form and become distinct. This is a refugee man who has seen terror, who may have nightmares about it regularly but who is still in the habit of smiling, in the habit of joy. You can see it in the lines of his face. Anyway, he smiled, even chuckled a bit and replied "no..."

He kept watching the snow until his daughter, "H", my charge came. She and I left for school. At school I took off my glove and grabbed a bit of snow off of the top of a wooden fence post. "Touche?" I asked. H giggled and waved her arms in response "awww...touche, come on." I pleaded. Again she giggled and said no. So I threw the little bit I had in my hand at the arm of her coat. It hit its mark and she laughed saying "Pas bien, pas bien" (not good, not good) I laughed with her and said "No, no, bien bien." (no, no, good, good) We went into the school laughing.

Half an hour later I had H taken care of and was in my car headed to another home for another family. It was still snowing and now there was even more snow on the ground and in the trees. It was another African home I was going to. One of the children greeted me at the door. I stood around waiting for dresses to go over little girls heads, for socks and shoes to go on and for coats to be zipped. When all of this had been done the little children and I went outside to wait for their mother "V" while she finished getting herself ready to go.

The three children stood on the stoop looking at the snow. Again I picked some up in my ungloved hand. This time I could only reach out with it and use the English word "touch." I knew they would not know the word but they would understand the action so I said "touch" and to my surprise each one of them touched it. They giggled. I threw the small ball at one of them and got them bouncing, laughing. I picked up another and got the coat arm of another little girl and my final shot got their older brother. They all laughed and scattered so I couldn't get them. When their mother joined us we were laughing in the middle of a full fledged snow ball fight. Happily we all climbed in my car and they headed to school for the first time. It was their first day with snow and their first day of school.

Storytelling...the need to tell

Hey guys- parts of this blog will be a bit graphic

so please be aware as you read it!!

Stories help people to become animated, alive and full of different kinds of emotions. Many places in our world are based on oral communication. For years and years every time Robert and I did a registration we asked the family to tell us their story, how they got to America. When we began with the Haitians in 93' we didn't know the importance of this request. As a matter of fact until Robert went to a conference in October by Dan Allendar based on his book "Wounded Heart, dealing with victims of sexual abuse" we still didn't truly realize the importance of telling your story.

A Haitian story is about a man who had a radio show. When the unrest began to happen with Jean Bertrand Aristide, this man let everyone know his opinion over the airwaves. He supported Aristide. The rebels came for him and his family. They had to run.

A Bosnian story... A lady sat in front of us "needing" to explain the Bosnian war. She talked about how under Tito things had been good. In the fifty years of his reign life had been easy. Then he died and leaders began to fight over land, money and power. They used the ancient religions as leverage. She had grown up with a brother named S. He had a best friend who had lived next door to them all of their lives. The two boys had be born within days of each other. In truth this lady had two brothers. F, the next door neighbor and her own brother. F was a Serbian while S's family was Muslim. When the war finally after years came to their village-- one day the fighting began and the last she saw of her brother was him running in the city square away from his best friend. F shot S in the back right between the shoulder blades. S fell to his knees and died. F left his body in the town square and moved on to others. That day this woman lost her father, mother and brother in the same way. She was able to escape the village with her husband and brand new son. She is a haunted woman today.

An Iraqi story... one of the police officers came. He had been an officer in one of the cities that had rebelled against Saddam. The Americans were due to come in and overtake Iraq. They had promised. On the night the invasion was supposed to happen, he was on duty, waiting... the word finally came from the Americans. They had made a deal with Saddam. They were pulling out of Iraq. He ran! He couldn't go back into his village. He had to leave his family. They didn't even know where he was for years. They didn't know if he had survived that night.

An Afghan story...The family woke. The mother helpe her sons get safely to school. This was a very dangerous thing for her to do but she did it daily. The father was just leaving their home for work when a few members of the Taliban broke in. They killed him that day and threw his body in the back yard. During that day the wild dogs found his body. After school the eldest son of the man found his father's body in the back yard. I must tell you that it was at this story, listening to the anger, hatred, and festering pain in the wife/mother that I began to not want to hear stories. She told me that story for two hours, in perfect detail. It still rolls around in my head occasionally. I had a very hard time removing the graphic details that played a movie for me. Sometimes this work can be gut wrenching.

A Congolese story... He was a student. She was pregnant with their first child. They were newly married and beginning a life together. The war broke out. He was from one tribe and she was from the other. She had the baby and within days the war came to their city. They took the baby and ran. At one point they were starving, her belly was very bloated and sore, she was trying to feed the baby. They found fruit that had been eaten and discarded. It was decomposing. They ate it. They found an open sewer with other people drinking from it. They drank too! They prayed "God deliver us!"

This couple was amazing. As they sat on our couch blessing us with their story they got very animated. Emotions crossed they face... anger, hatred, bitterness, terror, disgust, peace and thankfulness. It amazed me that day what the human spirit can take and get past.

An African story... a young woman lost her husband to the rebels in Sierra Leone. She took her baby boy and they escaped to a refugee camp. They had no family so the camp was more dangerous then normal for them. They were starving because she was unable to fight for enough food in the camp. One day a man came to her tent. He had rice. He offered it for sex. She accepted. The next day another man came and then another. It had gotten out of hand. She was now a camp prostitute. She had more children. Now she sits in front of us. We ask her where the father of her children is. She makes up a convoluted story that we know doesn't work. We wonder. She is ashamed. The older kids know where they came from... they are ashamed. But she and her son survived. They are in America in a home, going to school and eating food.

Our story. We have been listening to these kind of stories weekly since 1993. As I said after the Afghan story I began to not want to hear them. They were too hard, too disgusting, to frightening, to painful and too ugly.

Then life got hard for us, for Robert and I. Our world was turned upside down, our finances were in trouble and even our marriage. We just stopped asking about stories and got through our day, our duty.

During this time, we turned our face to God. We talked and even fought with Him. Eventually things got better. Robert went to this conference and brought back with him many things but one of the most important was the power of story.

He asked a Congolese family their story last week. Another Congolese man who had come to visit us at the same time we were doing the registration sat and listened to the story. He explained cultural things to us that we did not understand. At the end of the story time he prepared to take his family home. When he stood with Robert at the door he asked Robert, "Why did you ask them their story but you did not ask me about mine." Robert was amazed. This man was jealous. We set up a time to go to their house for dinner and listen to their story. They need to tell it and we are able to listen. Perhaps we need to hear it.

July has it really been since July???

So for the past month I have been thinking about the moment in time when I would actually get to sit down at this computer and write to you all again. For the past month the first line that I wrote in my mind was always this one...
glub...glub...glub..... aah....!
I have gotten to the top of the water line and can breathe again.
Oh yes and there is Robert beside me.
I haven't seen him in awhile.
Normal life is pretty busy but since July I truly haven't been able to sit long enough to write to you. So instead of telling you how busy we have been how about if we tell you a little about what we have done for the past few months.
We all had a great time doing summer reading and were sad to see the summer go. The kids were great and we have enjoyed hugs this summer. On the first day of school I can't tell you how many of our kids in the schools said "I know you! You read to us!" I find that funny since neither Robert or I read very often but who can complain if a kid associates your face with books. Not us!
One of my favorite stories was the day we took a little Burundi child into the school with his family for a school tour. For weeks I had seen him and played with him at summer reading. Our kids played with him often but I had never heard him speak a word of English. On the day of the school tour he walked in the front door trailed by his parents and this little tiny first grader looked down the long hallway to the shelves that lined each wall. And then his little voice filled with awe... said quietly books............ He knows the word book in English. Yay!
Then there were the billions of pieces of paper that we wrote out, notarized and explained to parents, signed and finally delivered to most of the schools in the valley. Each group of papers came with usually three hours of orientation, an hour for a school tour and a half an hour to deliver back packs and put kids on the bus bright and early in the morning. Typically Robert & I have run the first day of school by ourselves but this year we had Jeremiah and Jay to help us out. The day went well. Later in the day when I was visiting a school to make certain all was well Jeremiah came with me and was able to secure a position in the school as a volunteer to grab some good volunteer hours for his scholarship. That was good!
One of the very different things about this year (This happened some last year but a lot this year) was that as we went into the neighborhood to take our cases to schools other people came to us needing their children registered into school. You see it is our goal that all of our cases are ready and set to go by the first day of school. Buses are ready, schools found, backpacks given, smiles and hugs and the first day of school in America is begun on a positive note.
So the first day of school was over and then we began the "please give our kids a school bus"; and "please I need to talk to a school counselor and I don't want to stand in line for the next hour to do it."
I forgot to say that we had also spent the weeks just before school getting documents translated, zipped up and given to BSU for new college students. We also went on BSU tours and to orientations with new students.
Right now the busy work is slowed down and Jeremiah is running Joy through her reading vocab while he waits to get onto Robert's computer to finish his BSU online math quiz. Roya is on her way over to study math. Our kids babysat Deborah, a little Kenyan girl, while her mother was at BSU attending an art history lecture, Sang came before dinner to do math and finally kids are in bed, and I am writing to you. The pace has slowed a bit.

The Weekend As We Knew It

Hello all...
The weekend was fun and very busy. On Friday we got to got to the African Children's Choir with a couple of CATCH! volunteers and some Kenyan friends. It was fun to sit with Sally, one of our friends from Kenya and get a play by play on language and information being given to us.
On Saturday we went to a Bosnian/American wedding where Robert played the "marryin' man." We enjoyed going to Katherine Albertson's Park for the ceremony and then a big party at the Basque center. It was so much fun.
Then about 11 o'clock pm we went to the Jewish Synagogue for a Bantu Muslim wedding. It is a nice place for a wedding-this being our second there. It was very hot as there were about 300 people there. One of my favorite girls got married to one of Robert's favorite translators so that was fun. Last week when I caught him in the neighborhood I went through my normal "hand on his shoulder- light squeeze- slight threat in my voice." So she has another year of school and then college....is she going to both? If she doesn't you will have to work three times as hard to get your family to eat. It would be best if she went to university. He smiled, having already anticipated my question and gave all the right answers. We will see if they actually come true but at least he KNOWS the right answers.

Fourth of July at Plum House

So we set out to have a lazy 4th. We had told Jill & Jer our plans and invited them if they wanted. We also knew that my parents would probably join the festivities.When we were visiting one of the neighborhoods, J came up and asked if she and her sisters could come stay with us for a couple of days. We said yes and so yesterday we had three extra little girls.That afternoon we went to the parade, my parents, our kids, Robert & I and three little girls. We enjoyed watching little girls who had never gotten to see a parade except for on TV. They had fun running for candy with our kids, waving at the people in the parade, clapping for the veterans and getting soaked at the end of the parade. It was a fun time.Then last night Jill and Jer joined us with one of their neighbors for fireworks. We had planned to get together with our neighbors for a firework show so with Russ, Robert and Jer's fireworks we had quite a show. We pulled lawn chairs out onto the side of the street and watched the guys and the kids run up and down lighting things, deciding on the perfect sequence and just general having a great time in controlled mayhem.At the end of the night when our visitors had gone all except our three little guests we heard a little voice say..."That was the best day ever!" and off to bed we all went.

Lunch at Plum House

So we are eating goulash for lunch. Our lunch time sort of ran into our meeting. As people came we were still eating so we offered them food. So as I sit here writing this we are eating with Jim Wright from TRIO, Boise State, Abubacar, a Somalian man and Sally, a Kenyan woman all of us, sitting around eating goulash and working on getting registered for fall term at Boise State.I could see my fall work sitting in front of me.

The First Talk Time Night

I went into one of the neighborhoods to begin a new "Talk Time." My oldest daughter and I got there a bit early. We decided to sit and wait outside until all of the other "native English" speakers arrived. As we sat there one of the summer reading kids walked up and then another and then another. When they came up to me they asked every time when I was going to start reading and why I wasn't walking to the other side. I kept telling them that I was not here to read this evening (we don't have a reader yet for Tuesday) but instead I was here to visit a home. The kids didn't like that answer. Finally after a few minutes and ten children hovering around us we sent one of the kids off for a reading book. Our oldest daughter and one of the volunteers for Talk Time (tt) sat down with kids all around them and on their laps reading.About half way through the book, the women of (tt) had entered the neighborhood and were ushered upstairs to begin. We regained our readers and off we went. First we spent some time doing small talk to get the ball rolling, then we did a little review as I wanted to know the level of understanding that the non-native speakers have. The Turkish women in this group are great fun and outgoing, therefore they have a real need to communicate and their English shows it. They are really trying hard. After we had finished reading we decided to play a little game. I asked a native speaker what the sound for a chicken is in English. I was answered quickly "cock-a-doodle-doo" I then asked one of the Turkish women. She answered "co-ka-ree-co" Another person brought up an animal and we were off imitating animals. One of the women began to act out the facial expressions and body movements of horses, dogs, cats and pigs. By the time the story changed we were laughing very hard and enjoying ourselves. During the animal reenactments, a coffee table was pulled into the center of the room, tea was served with cakes, chocolate, candied jam and Uzbek bread. We enjoyed tea together and talked more. It was interesting that the previous conversation had made our friends think about their past lives. The Turkish women are a family, mother, three daughters and two granddaughters were with us. They began to talk about growing up on a farm in Uzbekistan, about how hard life was for Turkish refugees, the trek from Georgia (the region of Turkey they are originally from) and the then lastly their years in Russia. We left their apartment late. The night was a great success, everyone laughed and talked. At the end they walked us to our cars. It was a great night! Thanks to all of the volunteers who joined in and made it the night that it was. I attached a document below so that you could read about the experiences of this group of women. http://www.dwd.state.wi.us/dws/programs/refugees/Word_documents/mturksprofile.docAs an aside- most of the links I am able to send to you are found and given to me courtesy of the resident CATCH! historian, Jill Eden. Thanks Jill for all of your work.

Evenings that are just fun!

So we went into the neighborhoods this evening to join our volunteers. At the first neighborhood, while this was the third week for them and they are old hat by now we just thought we would go in to be a support to them. That neighborhood is the hardest one. The kids run around, they don't sit and they don't understand the importance of reading at all. However tonight I watched when our volunteers got out and began to set up their chairs the kids began to gather. I even watched some tearing across the parking lot at break neck speed to get there before the story started. I was amazed to see the kids in this neighborhood sitting on their bottoms, quietly listening to the story, some of them even raised their hands this evening and asked questions. It was fun to see! The numbers in this neighborhood have grown as well. They have gone from about 10 kids to this evening it seemed like there were about 25 sitting there intermittently but most actually stayed and listened.After we finished in that neighborhood we headed over to the second one. That neighborhood is mainly one long side walk with a very busy street right in the middle. When we get there we start on one end and move down until we all cross the street together. As we were rounding up children I sent a couple of messengers to the end of the sidewalk to pick up the others down at that end. A few minutes later I saw our messengers round the bend of the sidewalk with 7 other kids in tow, all of them yelling at the top of their lungs "We love to read! We love to read!" That was music to my ears. After that Robert and I and our volunteers crossed the street with the kids and sat down by the playground to read. We had a great time. There were about 29 kids here. This group is always quieter and their are a much more mixed bag of ethnicities in this neighborhood so it is an interesting puzzle. After we were finished reading, Jay, one of our volunteers went with Robert to visit a new Congolese family. On his way to their house he was invited in by one of our good Sudanese friends for a drink. I was left on the playground with Kerrie, another volunteer. I had promised the kids that I would stay and let them play for five minutes before taking them back. As we stood, waiting for the five minutes to pass, a very kind Uzbek women came and said "Speciba, cai moya doma?" or please come my house for tea. We smiled and I asked Kerrie if she were game and bless her soul she was so off we went. We went in through the sliding glass door of the home, taking our shoes off as we entered and sat to join Feruza in tea. She served us what she called "Uzbek pizza" meat and onions enclosed in a thin phillo dough, tea, cherries, candy and "hleb" or bread. After a bit I was feeling concerned about needing to walk the kids home but knew I didn't dare leave so soon so I began wishing for Jay, who can speak enough Russian to get the point across. As I was wishing for him I heard a voice "the kids said you were here." There Jay stood. I prompted him to tell Feruza that he spoke a little bit of Russian. She was thrilled. He started talking to her and translating for us and soon afterwards I was able to excuse myself and take the kids back. When I got back to Feruza's table they were still talking and having fun. Someone made a comment about the food and I told Kerrie "If she had known we were coming there would have been much more food." Just as I said that Jay began to translate "She says that it is too bad that she didn't know you were coming because she would have made much more." Feruza smiled and use her hands to show a whole mound of food on the whole table. I was so full with the little that we had eaten that I was content that she hadn't known we were coming. She asked them to come the next day for dinner. After we excused ourselves from Feruza's home I parted ways with Jay and Kerrie and went to relocate my husband. He had moved to his third African home by this time and was now firmly planted on the couch of one of my newest favorite little boys. As Robert finished his business with the family I got to make faces and play with the little five year old boy. He is such a great kid. He wants to learn English so badly. He will sit through five books without moving on reading nights. Finally we said our good byes to the family and headed to our car. As we were driving out of the neighborhood I saw a very familiar figure crossing the street. I pretended to speed up the van and act like I was headed toward the person. The young Bosnian father looked at the van first confused, then irritated then he knew and just stood in the middle of the street hands on hips daring me. I have always loved this kid. We pulled up beside him and his wife joined him at the side of our car to talk. She was holding their baby. As Robert was holding a conversation with the parents I was busy smooching the baby on the forehead and teaching her to say "your daddy is crazy" in Bosnian which got me a smack on the head. Just the reaction I was looking for. I then kept saying "Ja volim te" which means "I love you" to her. She is about five months old and adorable. She was kept launching herself and trying to climb into the window of our car. We had a great night. Twas fun! Thanks volunteers for your faithfulness. This is a blessing! It is fun making kids happy!!!

Cultural Confusion

Fourteen years ago, Robert & I started spending hours upon hours with Haitians, enough time that I learned to speak their language. Robert, being raised by a French mother only had to make some changes to his language to communicate.After two years with Haitians, God moved us into the Bosnian community where we spent the next five or so years. It is important to note that we never left the Haitians we just spent time in three different cultures, American, Haitian and Bosnian. In 2001 we again moved our focus to another culture, that of Afghanistan. As the years have gone on we have added three African cultures, and the Uzbek culture to our roster.Over the years since 94' Robert has become increasingly cross cultural but it has been very normal to him because this is the way he grew up, Jews, Iranians, Iraqis, French, Russian and on it goes in his home. If they were not originally from America his mother invited them home for dinner. She invited Americans too but you had to be a certain type of American to come and be willing to stay in the culture created by so many other cultures in the home.As for me, I grew up with people of different cultures around me but not in my home every minute of the day. We had people over on special occasions, Thanksgiving, Christmas etc. So here I sit 14 years later having difficulties that I don't understand.Last week we had two dinners to attend. The first an Uzbek family invited us to their home for dinner. I looked forward to it all week. I thought about how to adjust the culture in my head to fit into theirs. Knowing they were Muslim I chose my clothes to be appropriate for them, no short sleeve shirts, no skirts and I made certain my feet were really clean, no street dust. I then thought about who would be there and topics that would be fun to talk about. I made certain that as a family we did not have a large lunch and only a small snack for the kids in the afternoon as we were going into an eating marathon of very good food. We must eat or dishonor the family.I thought of the words that I knew in Uzbek and could use. Put my "Rakhmat" in place of my most used word for "thank you" (the thank you word I use most often right now that just rolls off of my tongue quickly is the Kizigua Bantu "Asante" followed quickly by the Mai Mai word wattmahatsuntie) I needed to replace them and use "Rakhmat" instead.That evening we had a great time, talking, laughing and enjoying new and old friends. My children being raised in the same type of home as my husband had jumped right in, adjusted their culture like breathing and played with their friends. Robert hung with the men, went outside and walked around. We all went away feeling like it was a successful night.However as I drove away a familiar nagging feeling hit me. I never feel this relaxed in America anymore. By this I mean that when I spend time in a room for that many hours with Americans I leave feeling uptight and out of place. This nagging stayed with me all the next day as I knew I had an all American event to attend that evening.As I thought about it I analyzed my life and realized that I spend very little time in a strictly American society. By that I mean a room where the American culture is the dominant one. At our home the dominant culture is not a pure American one, it has American pieces, Haitian pieces, many Bosnian and Afghan pieces and even Laotian pieces thanks to one of our favorite people. We go to church for one hour a week but even there we sit with and spend much of our time in the building with an English Language Teacher, her husband and a young family from the Congo. So as you can see it is very rare that we spend time in a strictly American enviroment.So on the day of the American party I was nervous and unsure even a little angry. On the night of the event I had figured out what my problem was... when going into an American cultural situation I just went in and didn't prepare myself for the change. So on this night I prepared. I thought of how to act, what to say, what to wear and yes- even which "thank you" to use. It was odd thinking for me but it worked. So often lately when I leave these places I am unhappy worried that I did something wrong but I never understand why. I think I finally figured it out. So many pieces have added to my cultural make up that I have to be on my game and I take my American culture for granted which is just not there the way it used to be.In summary "Thank you" is not my first choice. I usually use asante, wattmahatsuntie, speciba, tashakur, or merci first. I don't use the culture I grew up in near as often as I use the one I have adopted to help me move into the Bantus, the Afghans, the Bosnians or the Africans. I take my shoes off at the front door much more often then I leave them on and I don't assume you speak English. It has been a very fun and interesting change for me. However, it comes with its share of confusion as well.

Just Shopping

I remember the days that we could go to WalMart or Winco and grab a couple of things and leave. Then there was Sunday night. A call came in at 9pm. An emergency. The emergency took us to WalMart to see what one of our kids was up to. In we walked, looking for a certain young man..two aisles in Robert called his name down the aisle. A man looked up and said "Robert?" Not the guy we were looking for but another friend of ours. He took us to the young man we were looking for. We then decided to go do some shopping and I think that after we left the store we had run into about 12 people we knew and had conversations with them. Two invitations to dinner were accepted, a promise to look up one of their children and the promise to visit two ill individauls were added to our roster by the time we left the store. We not only take our work home with us but to the store too.

Collective Shame, Collective Pride and a need to belong

So 12 years ago, August, a family got off of the airplane. They were from Bosnia. The family was made up of father, mother, son and daughter. It was a neat a clean little family by my American standards. They did not smoke. They did not drink. There was one boy and one girl. They were educated and we could talk to them about art, philosophy, politics and world issues. (Or we could have if they spoke English) We enjoyed our time with this family. Surprising to us they were Muslim, and a much different Muslim then we expected. For three months we spent a lot of time with them, trying to communicate, getting them furniture, registering their children into school, helping them with their first adventures of shopping. I still know that the word "paradees" (spelled paradise) is the Bosnian word for tomato. We spent hours transporting them. We spent hours eating with them. We spent hours with them, so much so that we forgot they didn't speak English and they forgot we didn't speak Bosnian. We just learned to communicate.Then in November of that same year we went with our friends to meet their cousins who were getting off of the airplane. Again the family was a father, a mother, a boy and a girl. They smoked, they drank, the father was Muslim, the mother was Serbian Orthodox. This meant in Bosnian culture that the children would be raised Muslim. Again we spent many hours doing all of the same things for this family that we had done for the first. And again we became friends.In December a second cousin came. This time the family was father, mother and son. The father was Muslim, the mother Croatian. And still again we spent many hours. Robert and I were a young family then with only a five month old child. We were very mobile.February came and three more families came, all relatives of the first family, including the father's father and mother. We knew them all and spent time with them all. By this time we were so busy being with them that we spent little time anywhere else. We ate their food, sat with them for hours, watched TV with them and drank coffee. We started becoming community with them and we didn't know it.In the next three years many families came to Boise from this small town. By this time the community was in our blood. We loved them.Then after this long period of time, Bosnians from other areas of Bosnia began to come. We had had a couple families from other areas before but so few that we had not gotten to understand the politics and the pain of other areas. Then others came and we began having to look at the other side. The pain of Serbs fighting Muslims, of Muslims fighting Croats, of Croats fighting Serbs.I remember one day as I am sitting around the coffee table with a group of women, one of them began to talk to me about the day that her brother was murdered. Sead's best friend had spent time daily in their home. He had eaten lunches with the family, gone swimming, listened to music, ate dinner, spent the night, gone on double dates, the boys had been inseparable. They had both been Muslim, but their families were different kinds of Muslim. During the invasion of the town, she had watched this young man chase her brother down and kill him. She had screamed and cried, pleaded but her brother died and she saw it all. She lives with this memory along with others from that day until this.Another woman when I asked her if Bosnians wore wedding rings as part of their culture told me about the day that she lost her wedding ring. Her mother-in-law had called her from the other side of the village to warn her that the village was being invaded and that she needed to run. Her husband was gone fighting the enemy soldiers back. She didn't know where he was. She had been doing dishes when she got the call from her mother-in-law. She had put her wedding ring in the window sill while she did the dishes. The phone rang, she pulled her hands out of the water, answered the phone, ran for her two sons, put them under her arms and ran into the street, escaping the town with hundreds of other women and children. It was the last she saw of her wedding ring, her home and the life she had known.This war was a hideous war. One with absolutely no rules and humanity was lost. Now the people of this war are trying to live here and move past the terror, anger and bitterness. It is a tough thing to do, if not impossible for some.Here are some links to some "youtube" sites that may give you a taste of this whole thing. While they are not by any means fun and yes the words are disturbing it is still important that we see them. It is important that we not think we are above all of this. We are not. We need to learn from history and the sins of the past. Please be brave and look....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7ESBQhNZpUhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHKCH7dZDkwhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Id4wtBJHMdUhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8MCSV7lM8kWe have experienced many people from this country. We are fortunate enough to be a part of their community and to love them. We see in some of them the capability to move on, some hide their past and their struggles, others are bitter, others haunted....