A few of my housemates & I

Never the Same

Well, this is it- my very last blog post. “El utimo.” Somehow the time flew like an arrow and suddenly I’ve got a little less than a month left here in Tucson. Clouds are ceasing to exist in the sky, only the bright sun seems to be “up there” most days and the daily high in temperature now ranges from about 104-112 degrees… and it’s only June! Admittedly, I’m a little scared for what temperatures July might bring. Biking/walking/existing in this weather gets a little, well… sweaty. (Ok, I lied- a lot sweaty.)
Since I’d never really blogged before this year, I am not sure exactly how to wrap up/summarize my YAV year in blog form with grace and to not forget anything important. I assume subjects to cover include but are not limited to such things as:
• What I’ve learned this year
• How I’ve grown/changed as a person
• What I will miss
• What I won’t miss
• “God Winks” throughout the year
I will try to do all of these things as well as possible, though it definitely is going to be impossible to cover everything memorable & meaningful, because, well- to be honest, this whole year will forever be imprinted into my memory, my being, It shapes who I am and who I will become. I’ve experienced and seen things you just can’t find in a college classroom or within the comfort zone of their home town. Anyways, here it goes:
A year ago, a recent high, wide-eyed school graduate with an unquenchable thirst for adventure and life experience packed up her belongings, boarded a plane and moved exactly 1,107.5 miles (yes, I Google-mapped that for “accuracy”) from Goshen, Kentucky to Tucson, Arizona to live for a year serving others. The rest of her classmates headed off to college, or the army or the work place. She didn’t know a single person in the town, or any of the 11 people she was going to be living with. In fact, she didn’t even really know what she was going to be doing for the year. Most people didn’t understand how or why she was doing what she was doing, especially at such a young age. A few even thought maybe she was just crazy (hence the title of my blog.)
Well, after a year here, I can say that am happier than I’ve ever been. I like who I am, and I could not of said that going into this year. I know what I believe, I have seen faith in action and God at work. It has been the hardest year of my life, with challenges that I sometimes didn’t believe I’d be able to overcome and situations more frustratingly impossible than I’d of ever thought. But how else does one grow? Now, I can personally look back and pull from times when I’m facing a challenge. I can speak and feel as if I really know what I’m talking about. I can tell stories… sad ones, inspiring ones, hilarious ones. So, maybe I am a little crazy for going through with this year at such a young age and so far from home, but I feel bad for the “sane” people who will never be able to experience things like I have.
Charles Dickens said: "Minds,like bodies,will often fall into a lazy, conditioned state from mere excess of comfort." I myself completely agree with that… I try to do at least one thing a day that scares or challenges me so that I don’t let myself get too comfortable. This year definitely has had no shortfalls of that. In other words, my mind has gotten its fair share of exercise.
Instead of writing 15+ pages of all the events and things I’ve taken part in this year, I will finish up by making a list from this year (while they’re still fresh in my mind) of what that will stand out from this year and stay with me forever. Also, I can look back on this in case I forget over time.

• Participating in a posada in Nogales, Mexico.
• Running my first marathon.
• Learning how to live simply- making/utilizing a backyard chicken coop, garden, composting, etc.
• Getting countless flat tires on my bike… thus learning how to quickly patch a flat bike tire.
• Drinking freshly brewed coffee in Agua Prieta, Mexico.
• Camping in the Grand Canyon.
• Teaching Sunday School
• Almost stepping on a rattlesnake/tarantula (separate occasions)
• Participating in protests/rallies/press conferences
• Making friendships that will last a lifetime.
• Emceeing a talent show
• Facilitating meetings
• Learning how to cook and bake things outside of a toaster or microwave (This one’s monumental)
• Improving my Spanish immensely
• Appreciating rain- we don’t really get much!
• And so much more!!
To finish out this blog post, I will end with a quote (yes, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, I love quotes!) This quote though, is really special to me. It goes: "She wasn't where she had been. She wasn't where she was going…but she was on her way." I actually saw it for the first time in a Southwest Airlines “SkyMag” magazine flying on my way from Kentucky to Arizona, the perfect time to discover it… as I was literally on my way. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything… and I hope those of you who have been following me via Facebook and/or this blog have enjoyed going through it with me as well. Paz.

On the Sunny Side

So, I do in fact realize that the half-way point has already (somehow) come and gone in my YAV year. Time seems to accelerate as the calendar pages are flipped, and I have a feeling every week is going to seem shorter than the last. That being said, calling this a “mid-year” self evaluation might not be a completely accurate way of describing the contents of this blog post… but hopefully that won’t matter too much and all will be forgiven. And in fact, it’s probably going to be more of a self-examination than evaluation.

It’s Monday morning, and I’ve been at Southside since 5:30 this morning, it’s 9:00 a.m. now and I have just finally sat down at my desk. It’s still very loud outside in the courtyard- The local Hari Krishna community has come to play music for the clients while they eat. They’re currently walking in circles chanting, equipped with drums, tambourines and what appears to be some sort of handheld keyboard/accordion in one. (No, I’m not making this up.) I’m not sure how everyone feels about this, it’s going on hour #3 and they don’t seem to be letting up any time soon.

Boone, who heads the men’s showers, is screaming over the Hari Krishnas’ music for the next person to get in the shower now or not at all.

And then, there’s the constant murmur of conversation from those who are still eating or waiting for showers. I’m not bothered in the least though, because the church is full of life this morning and has been since before the sun even came up.

Speaking of conversation, I’ll be taking this time to write about some of the sillier things I’ve learned this year, things that are specific to being a Borderlands YAV… so far anyways. Why ‘silly’? Because those of you who personally know me know that it’s been killing me not to humor-ize every one of my blogs. I’ve dulled it down because, let’s be honest- there’s a time and a place. Plus, this YAV year is supposed to be helping me mature, and I feel that should be reflected in my writing. But I feel as if now, on this sunny April morning, it’s finally time to let ‘the other side’ show.

Of course, there is much more that I’m sure will be learned in the coming months, but I don’t want to lose sight of what has already been experienced. Plus, I’ve been wanting to write a blog that includes a list. (Although, now that I think of it, I’m not entirely sure why.)

Anyways, here we go:

o One cannot make themselves a morning person, no matter how early they go to bed the night before or how much caffeine they drink . Believe me, I’ve tried both things… well ok, so mostly just the latter one.

o Cover your kitchen compost bucket to avoid attracting bugs, BUT still expect to get a face full of spastic fruit flies when you open it back up, because no matter how tight the lid is sealed, those tiny little buggers will find a way in.

o Chickens will eat almost anything. No wait, correction- chickens will eat anything. They’re like avian goats.

o A “dry heat” is still undeniably heat, don’t believe otherwise. Heat is heat is heat… and that’s how I feel about that.

o Hanging your wet clothes up to dry on a clothes line during a Tucson summer day works faster than a clothes dryer ever will. Your socks will stop dripping before you even turn around.

o Even if a city is considered “bike friendly” and drivers are reminded to “share the road”, that does not mean every driver is automatically sweet and considerate to bicyclists. ‘Nuff said.

o When you get so tired you’re slap-happy, and all of your housemates are in the same delirious state, that’s when you’ll laugh until you cry. Sleep deprivation = worth it for about 2 minutes of laughing so hard you can’t breathe.

o Working with children of various ages opens your eyes to the world of quirky insults. A few personal favorites from an adorable 8-year old who shall go unnamed: “You’re all up in my Kool-Aid and I don’t even know the flavor!” and “The wheel in your head is spinning, but the hamster in there is probably dead” oh, and of course- “Welcome to your own medicine!”

As you can see, this year has undoubtedly been filled with both serious as well as funny memories, and in my opinion they are both equally as important.

As Elbert Hubbard once said- “Don’t ever take life too seriously. You’re not getting out alive.” And while that could be taken as a bit morbid if you read into/over-think it, I’d like to agree with him. Even the bible has wise words regarding such things. Proverbs 17:22 says “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” So everyone- please don’t ever lose your senses of humor. A good laugh heals more than you’d think.

Through Childlike Eyes

Spring has indeed sprung, there is no way around coming to grips with that here in Tucson. The barrel cacti are starting to sport their annual yellow fruit, the prickly pears are blooming and the nopal cacti have begun to reveal bright pink blossoms. The average temperatures are currently hitting around the mid-90’s. Granted, it is a “dry heat”, but as much as people want to say there is no humidity here and that makes it cooler, 100 degrees is still 100 degrees, nuff said.
And yes, yes, I know-it’s only March. 93 degrees without a cloud in sight (aka total sun all day) is certainly hot enough for this Kentucky girl, and yet I’ve heard horror stories about 120 degree days, so for now I suppose I can deal with being a little, ahem, toasty. We’ve been told our chickens will slow down on their laying as the thermometers go up, and I sure don’t blame them.
And speaking of numbers rising, the halfway mark of my YAV year has (somehow) already come and gone. We’ve really put a dent in helping Casa Banana (aka the YAV house) reach its full potential. Recently, our landlord caved and let us put up bike racks in the side yard. And last week he actually let us paint one of the hallway walls with chalkboard paint, resulting in a giant chalkboard that gets daily usage from the artsy folk in the house; so obviously I’m included in that group.
Karl and Kendra built a sort of mansion coop for the chickens. I can’t tell if they’re grateful or not, but we’re averaging around 8-10 eggs a day, so they’re getting the job done. Even Pianissimo, the teeny gamish hen which we were informed has retired from her laying days, is now laying an occasional egg. (Her eggs are about the size of a Jordan almond and they bring me great joy as I have secretly adopted her as my own.)
We’ve got garden beds (one of them is actually just an old bathtub that Maddy and I painted) all around the house as well. There is talk of building an outdoor shower for our next project, so as you can see (er, read I guess technically) we’re never short on ideas of how to make Casa Banana our own.
But enough about house stuff! The other day, I realized suddenly that I have yet to do a blog post about teaching Sunday school, working with the tween group or partaking in mission work with the children that I help out with here at Southside. Cross Streets is only half of what I’m doing here, and I definetly should take some time to share about my some of my adventures and learning experiences with the kids that I am working with as well.
First off, I’d say almost half of these kids are either fully bilingual or on their way to being bilingual in English and Spanish. I’m so jealous of them! On our mission trip to Agua Prieta, Sonora, we went to a men’s shelter and I watched as a 6 year old boy translated (perfectly I might add) for his own mom! A humbling experience for her, no doubt. It was great to see the kids from Southside and the kids from Mexico able to talk and laugh together without any translating needed, although much of the time no language was needed at all. Opportunities to speak Spanish around here are never scarce, that’s for sure. And I’m glad, because I have no excuse not to get better and learn as much as I can this year.
The skewed perception of armed migra (Border Patrol) in tanks watching for malicious drug smugglers and mafia kingpins dotting all along the border (which, by the way is a media portrayal and is completely incorrect) would probably make most people think twice about taking a group of young kids to a border city in Mexico for a week, but it’s a good thing Southside isn’t ‘most people.’ Because we are such an informed, diverse group of people, we know the truth- that there are parts of Tucson far more dangerous than Agua Prieta and the vast majority of people crossing aren’t dangerous at all, they are desperate human beings crossing for survival, risking everything for their families.
Seeing the kids learn about border issues for the first time, seeing them talk with deportees, with injured and sick migrants, with orphans who had either lost or had no idea where their parents where, was truly amazing. Many of them went into the experience without much knowledge at all. But once they had been informed and saw things firsthand, they began to realize what was happening, and that it was happening right here in their own community. They came out as little activists; in fact a few of them even went to a protest with me last week!
We had a little ‘debriefing’ session once we got back from the mission trip to see how everyone was feeling, what they learned, etc using playdough. The activity was to answer my question by sculpting with the playdough and then explaining what it meant. One of the questions that I asked them was- “What did you learn from this experience?” 2 of the responses that stood out to me were Gabriella and Joshua’s.
Gabriella made a little pink and green ‘border’ with a broken heart on each side. There was a line connecting the 2 hearts, going through the border. She explained that she had learned the worst thing about the border was that it separated families and when it went up, it separated communities from each other as well.
Josh’s sculpture was a little more simple. It was just a little blue and green planet Earth. “I made the world the way it’s supposed to be,” He said. “God has no borders, and when he made the Earth, he didn’t make any boundaries. People did, and because they did, people are killing each other and dying. And that makes God sad.”
Call me crazy, but I think they get it.

Where the Wild Things Reside

Holy guacamole. Before I get started, I’m going to offer a little disclaimer to the blog post that is going to follow. I am going to go ahead and be completely honest about what happened in this ‘series of events’ I will write about shortly, even if it ends up making me look a little silly. (You’ll most definitely see what I mean if you read on…)
This past week was one of adventure to say the least. As the Lenten season approached, we (the Tucson YAVs) set out for our winter spirituality retreat in the middle of the desert. The word “retreat” is defined in the dictionary as “The act or process of withdrawing from something hazardous or unpleasant” and/or “a place affording peace, quiet or security.” Ironically, I must admit that our retreat was quite the opposite of both these definitions. But don’t get me wrong, by saying that I’m not being negative- it wasn’t a bad experience. In fact, one of my favorite quotes says “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” I like this quote so much because I fully believe that we cannot grow as individuals without experiencing challenges and discomfort. Granted, that doesn’t make anxiety or distress any more fun. Especially not in the moment it’s happening.
Let me summarize what our retreat consisted of before going more in depth about my personal, um… quest. The idea of our “desert sojourn” was to have each of us set up camp away from each other and spend a few days in solitude to explore our spirituality and vocational discernment a little more in depth. We were instructed not to take any phones, laptops, etc. (there wasn’t any service anyway) to distract us- we were simply supposed to “be” in nature.
Being an obvious extrovert, my biggest concern was not having anyone to talk with (or any form of communication at all for that matter). As I was being dropped off at my little campsite, I ran after everyone and made them hug me to try and prolong the goodbyes as long as possible. But all too soon they had disappeared from sight. I was totally and completely by myself, just me and my little tarp, which was set up next to a little creek. (Yes, there actually is water in the desert!)
Around the time the sun was setting, I began to prepare dinner, which consisted of some crackers and a little cup of miso soup. I realized at that point that packing soup was a pretty dumb idea, considering I had no way to heat water and had forgotten to bring a spoon. But, in keeping with the spirit of seeking God’s presence in the wilderness, I somehow felt that if I were to walk along the creek bed, God would show to me a spoon shaped rock. (Yes, I’m being serious.) Because, after all, Matthew 7:7 says “Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek, and you shall find.” And, that’s just what I did.
Well, after about 30 minutes of scouring through piles of rocks, I decided maybe I was just being silly. It didn’t occur to me until later that maybe God had more important things to do than provide me with a spoon, considering that many people that night wouldn’t be eating at all. Long story short, I ended up drinking my cold soup after trying to carve a utensil using a sharp and flat rock and then attempting to make a “spoon” out of a twig, sticker and half a tic-tac container and spilling all over myself. I can’t believe I’m admitting in writing to doing this.
After dinner, it was dark and cold, and I was getting pretty sleepy. I had just begun to doze off when I heard a rustling of sorts coming from a nearby tree. We had been told prior to embarking on our trip (maybe to still our fears?) that it was much too cold a time of year for any animals to be out and that if indeed we did hear a noise, it would most likely be a mouse and to shine our light on it and it be so scared that it would immediately scuttle off. Well, I may not be zoologist, but I do know that the sound a mouse makes does not include jumping from tree to tree, and besides- I don’t know of a mouse that weighs over 10 pounds.
That being said, I was still in denial as the sounds grew closer, and for half a second I convinced myself it was a “mischief” (that’s what Google said a troupe of mice is called) of ‘meese’ (sorry, I know it’s mice, I’ve just always wanted to use the word ‘meese’ in a blog post) . But, when the moonlight illuminated the outline of something not even remotely mouse-like, I knew that they had not bonded together in a suit to try and trick me. Indeed, this was no small animal. With shaking hands, I reached for my headlamp and turned it on.
In the sudden bright light, the animal that sat only a few feet from my tent was one I’d never seen in my life. It was a little bigger than a house cat, with giant yellowish purple eyes, a ring-striped tail and a light brown body. The best way to describe it would be to say if somehow a lemur, cat and raccoon somehow got together and had a love child. (For the rest of this blog post, I will refer to him as Zoboomafoo so that I don’t have to keep saying ‘the thing’… if you don’t get the reference, it’s really not worth explaining.)
Zoboomafoo looked at me, (squinting due to the headlamp), not in the least bit scared or annoyed by my light. He wasn’t fazed by the fact that I was a human, something he’d never seen. In fact, he continued advancing towards me, even faster now. I tried making loud noises, I even resorted to cawing at one point. I must not have sounded very threatening, because this only made him come closer.
Being a runner, I’ve always considered myself to be a “flight” type of person when it comes down to the “fight or flight” response when you are in a situation that requires an immediate reaction. Zoboomafoo was now starting to climb up a tree about 2 feet away, and onto a branch that actually came inside my tarp.
Maybe it was because it was pitch black and I had little idea how I’d get back if I ran, but in that instant I suddenly became a fighter. I reached inside my bag for my pepper spray and fumbled for the trigger. I held it up towards the tree to show him what he was messing with, but he was now circling the tent, sort of in a hunched position. I figured he smelled my miso soup smell, so I switched sides of the tent, away from where my little food stash was. This, of course, did nothing.
The next hour or so I followed him with my flashlight in one hand and pepper spray in the other. No, I never actually sprayed him. He never got much closer. I ended up falling asleep around daybreak in a sitting position, with large snowflakes beginning to fall outside my tent. Zoboomafoo ran off once the wind started to pick up. I think that was when I realized I’d been holding my breath basically the whole time and I sighed with relief.
I love snow so much that this unexpected weather I missed so much living in Tucson immediately comforted me. I fell asleep smiling, watching the flakes dancing through the windy air on their way to the ground.
I woke up with my tarp so weighed down with ice that it was on top of my face. Ice pellets were falling on either side of me. The wind had also blown 2 of the tent stakes out of the ground, and so the lower half was out of the ground and blowing around furiously in the wind. My gloves and hat had gotten soaked, and so I resorted to wearing socks on my hands and my backup hat. (Ha! And I was made fun of for having an extra hat in case of emergencies, but who’s laughing now, Enid? Ok, so maybe the intelligence was canceled out for having Dr. Seuss socks on my hands all day, but still… ya gotta stay warm somehow)
After fixing my tarp with sock hands (it takes a bit longer than using normal hands), I spent most of the day shivering in my sleeping bag. I learned later on that without the wind chill, the temperature never got above the low 20’s that day, and that most of my housemates spent their day doing the same thing. At nightfall, I prayed that my night would be a quiet one this time, as I had slept a grand total of 2 hours the previous night. I somehow ended up convincing myself that my dear lemur/cat/raccoon friend wouldn’t be back this time because at that point in my sojourn, I had no food left.
Even with all of my rationalizing, it seemed as if the sun set just as fast as it had risen, and nightfall came all too quickly. 2 owls began hooting across the stream to one another in the same tone and pitch, and so together they just ended up sounding like one owl that was hyperventilating. (Think: hoOohoOohoOohoOohoOo) A crow without rhythm (think: caw cawcaw cawwww caw) and some sort of bird that sounds like a screaming child soon joined the dysfunctional avian chorus.
“They’re just birds,” I told myself, “They’re only as threatening as an annoying lullaby.” But birds don’t have 4 legs, and soon after the ‘choir’ was going into their 2nd hour of ‘song’, 2 four-legged animals came down to the stream for a drink. I knew without even shining my light that they were javelinas (the desert’s equivalent of a wild boar). I could see their outline in the dim moonlight. They had come separately to the stream, and I realized that they were both males when they began fighting. I learned from listening that they don’t squeal like pigs when they fight, they grunt pretty deeply.
“They’re preoccupied,” I told myself, “And besides, they wouldn’t cross the stream anyways”. Once again, I found myself trying to justify in my head reasons for why they wouldn’t come over to me. Looking back, the second reason was absolutely ridiculous. The stream was maybe 4 inches at its deepest point. And javelina are not small animals. On a positive note, the javelinas had scared off “Hootie and the Blowfish” (my personal bird band.)
They ended up fighting deep into the brush, and after the noises got less and less audible, I let myself sigh in relief. I must have sighed pretty loudly, because my sigh caused something a few feet away from me to run up into a tree. You can guess what I saw when I clicked on my headlamp up into the tree. Zoboomafoo was there, as if he’d never left.
When you go 2 nights with less than 3 hours of sleep, you get a little irritable. The lil fella cocked his head and began climbing down the tree towards my tarp. I can’t say what I did next was exactly nice, but I sort of felt like I was living in a zoo at that point.
“I DON’T HAVE ANY FOOD!” I heard myself scream. He stopped, thought for a second, and then ambled off into the darkness. I never saw him after that, and I fell asleep so tired and delirious that I thought he had understood my English, not realizing that my angry screaming was, of course, what made him leave.
I learned later on after describing Zoboomafoo to a local wildlife expert that he was a ‘miner’s cat’, a raccoon relative that was first discovered in desert mining camps because it was so curious that it would come right up to humans. Oh.
He was terrified that I had almost pepper-sprayed little Zoboomafoo, because I was the first person on that land to ever encounter a miner’s cat. I asked if people normally camped by that stream, and he responded “No that’s a good point, we almost never station people near water.” I wonder why…

Follow up: After re-joining everyone else at base-camp last Sunday morning, we shared our stories of our solitary adventures. After hearing mine, everyone agreed that my spirit animal should officially be a miner’s cat. Just call me MC.

Sniffles and Giggles

Wow, somehow I blinked and in a few short days, it will be February already. New Year’s resolutions are already falling by the wayside. The seasonal aisles of grocery stores nationwide are colored pink and red, with oversized teddy bears and chocolate hearts taking over the shelves- you can give your one true love all the finest Valentine’s Day paraphernalia… for only $9.99.
This time of winter also means that cold and flu season are in full swing. The YAV house is full of sniffling and sneezing, as well as the workplace. There is an Irish proverb that I recently stumbled upon that goes “A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything.” While I enjoy this saying and believe it is definitely true (ok, well- to an extent anyways), I feel like if I was to tell someone who is miserably coughing their lungs out, they would just give me a mean look.
And besides, who actually has time for this ‘long sleep’? The Irish must not have the lengthy work hours that prohibit such magical things as sleeping for more than a few hours a night. Or maybe a ‘long sleep’ yields a different interpretation per country. Either way, I envy those who can sleep… and sleep…
As for the ‘good laugh’ aspect, never underestimate the power of a belly laugh. I try to make a sort of goal for myself to laugh as much as possible each day so I don’t end up finding myself feeling down. We (the Tucson YAVs) have such long and often stressful days that once we gather at the end of the day, usually we are slap-happy. Which, to tell you the truth, I don’t mind one bit.
I kind of enjoy the goofy atmosphere. Sometimes we will sing gospel in the hallway, other times we might dance in the kitchen. Or huddle around a laptop to watch a Netflix comedy on someone’s teeny laptop screen. Whatever the impromptu activity of the night ends up being, it’s almost always a great way to sort of relax and let go, even if it’s only for the duration of the song “Hit the Road Jack”.
Being the youngest one in the house, and actually, one of the youngest people ever to be in the YAV program, I want to be sure to utilize my ‘youthful position’ to give you all, my dear readers, a brief word of advice- no matter how bad your day was, or where you are in your life, never forget to laugh. Even if you end up having to laugh at yourself. It feels good! And besides, you deserve to be happy. Why wouldn’t you? A day without laughter is, in my opinion, a day wasted. So don’t let me catch you wasting your days, ya hear?

Chickens & Changes

Time and time again I catch myself thinking “I can’t believe this is my life right now.” I have daily examples, but one that particularly stands out is a few weeks ago when I was in Sonora (Northern Mexico). I was attending a social justice themed Posada that marched through the streets of Nogales. At the head of the line was the “holy family”- a group of Sonorans dressed as Mary (who was riding a white burro), Joseph, the angels and the wise men. One of our stops was at the spot where Border Patrol had shot and killed 17 year old Jose Antonio Elena only 2 months before. I remember standing next to “Mary” on her donkey, looking at the bullet holes in the wall and thinking to myself just how crazy my life really was. I don’t know many other people who can say they have sung “Feliz Navidad” behind police escorts while walking next to the Mexican side of the border fence.
A year ago this time I was in high school, sitting at a desk and (pretending to be) studying. I was preoccupied with college applications and track meets. My biggest worries were things like if I had a clean work shirt (doubtful) or if the gas tank in my car was getting close to empty (most likely). I didn’t know what SB1070 or Operation Streamline was. I had not yet seen the sun beaten faces of starving migrants hours out of the desert, the bottoms of their feet covered in blisters. I hadn’t sat and talked with homeless women who worried every second of the day for their safety. No wonder sometimes I feel like that was 5 years ago instead of just 1.

There are definitely days when I have to (literally) stop what I’m doing and think to myself- “Ok, so wait- how did I get here again?” I often catch my mind reflecting on how most people my age are in a dorm somewhere leafing through a textbook, and here I am living with a huge group of college graduates (and temperamental 17 chickens) that I didn’t even know a few months ago, and by day I am coordinating a homeless ministry that feeds hundreds of people every week. Sure, there are times when I wish I was in their shoes and wasn’t biking to work at 5 a.m. contemplating whether to serve hot dogs or Mexican rice, and hoping we have enough salsa to hide the taste of both of those foods (past) expiration dates. But at the end of the day, I am so grateful that I chose to take a gap year being a YAV. I am learning so much by doing, by experiencing.
For a current example, as I am writing this, I can hear Boone yelling at the men in the shower room that their 5 minutes is “WAY OVER ALREADY!!!” Through the office door I can see the preschoolers writing with chalk on the church’s sidewalk and, behind me through the window, I can see there is a day laborer climbing into an employer’s truck. I ask you- who else has a work environment like this?
I think other than the obvious part that I am learning so much every day here, there is also the fact that there is never a dull moment. For example, the other day I woke up to Ellison balancing atop a ladder outside the window, attempting to coax an escaped chicken down from a tree in our yard. Well, since we live in the desert I suppose I am using the term “tree” generously. (Basically there was a chicken stuck way up in a giant bush in our yard.)
As for the “living intentionally and simply” aspect of YAV life, I’ve thus far learned:
* You can compost or re-use just about anything… that goes for what you can feed chickens as well
* A recycled jar holds coffee just as well as a mug
*Humor is never, ever overrated
*Not having a T.V. isn’t all bad
*Clothing lines are not overrated
*The hallways in our house have excellent acoustics for singing
*You learn Spanish about 80 times faster when you have to speak it than reading from a textbook
Happy New Year, y’all. Who knows what this year will bring… because I for one know from experience it could be anything.

A Southwestern Christmas

Ah yes, the feeling of “Navidad” is in the air here in the Southwest. The University of Arizona students will be heading home for the holidays here in a few weeks, and the cacti and palm trees in some of the front yards in our neighborhood have already begun sporting colorful lights. Although I can almost guarantee this Christmas isn’t exactly going to be a white one, I think I can deal with 80 plus degree weather in December without too much complaining. I will admit wearing a t-shirt and shorts while singing carols doesn’t feel quite right though.
The other Borderland YAVs and I spent this past long weekend working and camping out at the Cascabel Community Christmas fair in (who woulda thunk it??)- Cascabel, Arizona. Cascabel is about 2 hours away from and about 20 degrees cooler than Tucson. Each year during the first week of December, they put on a 48 hour festival complete with local food, artisans, vendors and musicians aplenty. There is everything from chili pepper wreaths to pumpkin empanadas for sale. The first day alone when I worked the parking lot, over 1500 participants were counted.
Apparently, they also have a ridiculous bee problem this time of year. Working only a few hours at the baked goods stand let me experience what the inside of a bee hive might look and feel like. There were just too many bees to ward off, and unfortunately during the unending fight, we lost a spice cake and a pumpkin pie to the enemy. They nested into the icing and crust and literally began drilling little holes for themselves. We tried putting cups of sugar water and empty pie tins nearby to draw them away from the “for sale” items, but it ended up only attracting more. We had to start giving disclaimers to customers before consumption of the sweets with helpful advice such as “Make sure to scrape ALL the bees off before you eat that cupcake, little boy” and “Actually, that’s not a chocolate chip, sir.” At one point, as I was handing a man a piece of pecan pie, we counted 3 bees on the plate and 4 on the actual pie. In fact,
sometimes I feel as if I can still hear them buzzing… waiting to let us surrender over another spice cake or 2.
But enough about bees, I am now going to (smoothly?) transition this post over to be slightly more holiday related. Bear with me…
Sultan bin Salman Al-Saud, an astronaut, spoke about the beginning of his journey into space by saying- “The first day or so we all pointed to our countries. The third or fourth day we were pointing to our continents. By the fifth day, we were aware of only one Earth.”
As the holiday season quickly approaches, it is good to remind ourselves that no matter where we live or where we come from, we are all human; all children of God. Working with the homeless and immigrants during this time of year is proving to be emotionally difficult for me. Most of them don’t have anyone around here to turn to or anywhere to go during this family-centered time of year, and it makes me sad. While everyone around them is spending quality time with relatives and friends, they are constantly reminded of their lack of meaningful relationships. I guess what I’m asking for more than anything is for everyone to not forget about those struggling during this month, pray for them… keep them in your hearts. As a friend of mine has said several times- “Somos un solo mundo. Somos un solo corazón.” (We are one world. We are one heart.
Through my experiences already this year, I’m learning things about myself that I might not have been able in most other circumstances for years to come. Though it may sound crazy to many people, I would rather feed my soul than my bank account. If I’m doing what I love and feeling fulfilled, 10 times out of 10 I would rather have a big smile on my face than a big paycheck in my wallet. Maybe it’s simply just my lack of years on this Earth that are talking, but I really just feel like one of the things I know for sure about this life is that money is not the key to happiness, relationships are. There is just too much evidence to argue against that. Happy holidays everyone, and may the world keep spinning after December 21st of this year.

“And It Got Me To Thinking”

Wow, the past seven days have been absolutely insane. People never cease to amaze me. I know, I know- that last sentence sounds really stupid, but in my defense it’s been proven true so many times that I’m allowed to say it, so judge away.
This week included a trip out to Sleeping Frog Farms for a truly organic Thanksgiving. It was my first Thanksgiving eating outside in 80 degree weather, but definitely enjoyable none the less. Local farmers provided a bit of homegrown everything… from purple (yes, purple) mashed potatoes to toasted kale chips to pecan no-bake cookies that I ate about seven in a row of (Oops- sorry to anyone else reading this that was with me on Thanksgiving and may have wanted one).
As far as work goes, Cross Streets (my site placement) served over 250 people a warm Thanksgiving meal thanks to the work and cooking of over 30 volunteers this past Friday. One of the women I’ve gotten to know through the shower program approached me during the meal (I was manning the fruit punch station at that point, a very difficult job no doubt) and proceeded to inform me that her and her boyfriend had gotten jobs and were officially off the street. They had saved up enough money to buy a little trailer for themselves. Knowing that she would have a place to stay for the holidays made me happy, but seeing her smile for the first time since I’d met her made me happier.
Oddly enough though, the experience that stood out to me the most this week didn’t happen at Sleeping Frog Farms or at work. It happened only a couple blocks from my house. Enid and I had walked to the market to pick up some things for dinner and were on our way back when we saw that up ahead of us, there was a train blocking the only way home. Since our time in Tucson, neither of us could remember a train ever passing through that area. In fact, up until that point I had assumed trains no longer ran on those tracks. We approached it, noticing that it was so long neither of us could see the beginning or end of it.
“I hope it doesn’t go on for too long,” Enid said, “It’s getting dark really fast.”
Just as she said that, the train made a horrible creaking noise and began to slow down. Within a few seconds, it had stopped completely. I looked over at Enid. She was rolling her eyes, so I decided against saying “I think you just jinxed us.”
After a couple minutes of standing there waiting, it was completely dark outside. The cars around us had started to back up and find other ways home. With nothing else to do, we sat down in the middle of the road and debated our options.

And after 10 more minutes, the ice cream I had bought was leaking onto everything in the bag. (Because yes, it’s actually still hot enough for ice cream to melt at night here.) We noticed that some risk takers on their way to the market that had grown tired of waiting had started climbing in between train cars to cut across. Headlights of waiting cars shone impatiently through. A man and his girlfriend crawled underneath a rail car, hand in hand.
Within 20 minutes, the train made a groan and was up and running again. My ice cream had made a cute little cookies’n’cream puddle that made its way through the fabric grocery bag and onto the road. I observed to Enid that the puddle looked a bit like the Lorax. She said maybe, but wasn’t his mustache bigger in the movie? I, of course, was referring to the original Dr. Seuss illustration.
Puddles of dairy treat aside, the next day I realized waiting for that train resonated in my mind as a metaphor for the U.S./Mexico border, and borders all over the world for that matter. Enid and I had been so close to where we needed to go. In fact, we could even see our destination on the other side. And we had decided to wait. But others had, in essence- risked their lives to make it across. What if the train had started back up when the couple was still crawling underneath it? It had only been about half an hour, but we had been so frustrated with the concept that we couldn’t get across to where we were going. And that’s my food for thought 🙂

Milagros Pequeños (Little Miracles)

Lemony Snicket once wrote that “Miracles are meatballs. Nobody can ever agree on what they’re made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear.”

That being said, my thoughts on life’s little “meatballs” differ slightly than those of Mr. Snicket’s. And I know what you’re thinking- no, it’s just because I’m a vegetarian. Although I agree that what is or is not a miracle is different for every person, I feel that personally, I can say that I do know where they come from. Sure, there can be strange coincidences or just plain luck at times, but I truly believe that sometimes (whether we recognize them or not) there truly are little “God winks” that happen every once in a while to us all.

Since I’ve been in Tucson, I’ve been fortunate enough to encounter quite a few of these “milagros” already in the few months I’ve served at Cross Street Ministries. One example that stands out to me happened just this past week. It went something like this:

Mid-week food prep is always slightly hectic. Even though I usually get to work pretty early, a small army of homeless volunteers and a handful of church and community members greet me in as I pass through the kitchen. They are already hard at work, busily preparing Friday’s meal. This often takes quite a bit of creativity as food donations can be random. Or worse- limited.

On this particular morning, I could hear complaints of frustration coming from inside as I locked up my bike.

“We never have any olive oil!” said a slightly annoyed voice.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to prepare this without it!” agreed another.

Just as they were saying this, a small woman in a large white pickup truck pulled up next to me. In the bed of the truck were several crates, filled to the brim with green bottles. She turned off the engine and leaned out of the window-

“Are you Tavi?” she asked, stepping down from the driver’s seat.

Slightly confused with how she knew my name (and simultaneously impressed with the fact that she knew how to pronounce it), I tentatively answered “Yeah?”

“Oh good, I was hoping I’d run into you. We have too much olive oil and I had a feeling you guys would need it. ” Without any further explanation to who she was or how she knew this information, she proceeded to put the tailgate down and begin unloading the crates.

“Wha..? How did you…?” I started to say, but I had to stop as I watched this intriguing scene unfold before me. I knew that in about 20 seconds, the kitchen crew would be as baffled as I was when the exact thing they had been asking for just seconds ago was now (literally) at our doorstep.

And so, I went over and helped her unload. Together, we brought in 3 crates full of olive oil, along with several other crates containing much needed cooking supplies as well. As I had predicted, everyone in the kitchen had similar reactions to mine.

Once everything was unloaded, I walked her back outside, where she finally introduced herself as the director of Springboard Ministries, a small women’s shelter nearby. She explained how she had heard about Cross Street and had contacted a church member, who had given her my name. But how she had known that we specifically needed olive oil that day, I still don’t know. I asked around, but from what I know, no one had told her. She just somehow… knew.

I am beginning to find out that this story is not all that unique when it comes to Cross Street. For example, even on the days that we are certain we have more people than food, we somehow literally have just enough. And I mean just exactly enough.

Ask any of the regular volunteers and they will tell you that there have been several occasions where we will have only one single plate of food left, and in comes a straggler (and there’s always at least one) asking if by chance we have some leftovers, and we of course give it to them, hoping no one else comes in late. And they never have.

Since I started serving in September, I haven’t seen anyone sent away hungry. And trust me, due to the (lack of) food we sometimes get, that is a miracle in itself.

In other words- “Ask and you shall receive, says the Lord.”

Who am I to argue?