Lessons from Key West-Volume 7

Perhaps my favorite way to "see" Key West, besides a long walk around Whitehead or Duval Streets, is by moped or as the locals call it, by "scooter." There are hundreds on the island, maybe a thousand or more. On an island only three miles across at any one point, it makes a lot os sense, and it's just fun!

So, I spent one afternoon just motoring around town on my scooter, and made my way over to the east side of the island where two of the three public beaches are located. As I drove up the coastline, I was fascinated by three large kites that were obviously being adeptly flown on the beach, as they dove and ascended with ease just beyond the row of palms and flowering tropical plants that border that strip of roadway.

I had to stop. So I chose a "cut-out" where the sidewalk comes right up to the edge of the water. To my surprise I discovered that these were not just stationery individuals who were kite flying on the beach, but instead "kite surfers," who were using their kites to propel them through the water while balancing on large surfboards, up and down the incoming surf. AWESOME! Three other scooters pulled in beside me...this was definitely a spectacle to be seen up close.

I recalled the freedom I have always felt floating on the surf, atop my own surfboard, waiting for a morning set to come in, along some Maryland beach. This "kite-surfing" must be a real rush! It has been many years since I have paddled out to enjoy God's creation from this perspective. It's time to return to that point of view every now and then.

Lessons from Key West-Volume 6

Lessons from Key West-Volume 5

Since I'm staying at a Hyatt Vacation Club property, the other people who are staying, similarly are here for the week. The pool here is a beautiful oasis, surrounded by tropical flowering plants, large palms, and ample open space to allow for "sunning" from about 7 AM-6 PM. To add to it's appeal, the pool area faces the west, sitting right on the harbor, so the sun sets just beyond the pool patio framed perfectly by the lush vegetation. It's almost paradise. Almost...

This week there were two guys, both accompanying their wives, both in law enforcement. One is a NJ municipal cop, the other a sheriff's deputy in Baltimore County, MD. You ask...how do you know this, did you engage them in conversation? No, I simply staked out my chaise lounge every afternoon for about 90 minutes. Just long enough for the testosterone-fest. Ninety minutes was about all I could take.

In their defense, from the time we are young, men are conditioned to compete, to try to prove themselves as masculine, in control, "masters of their domain." Male peacocks strut, male bluebirds, the more colorful of the species, prune and pose for their mates. Apparently male law enforcement, particularly those from Jersey, need to share their victories as police, neighbor, husband, person...you name it. Feeding off the need to compete with the sheriff's deputy from Baltimore, who was drawn daily into the "who can tell a bigger whopper" fest, the two of them spent every afternoon trying to one up each other and doing so at a volume that everyone at the pool could hear.

I was reminded of more than a few weekends at the fraternity in college, when we would inevitably need to one-up our brothers in telling of our high school antics and victories at sports, dating, and life. I guess many of we "guys" have been susceptible to the temptation to prove ourselves publicly. But really...com' on guys, you're in your 40's, maybe older?

Perhaps I could have opted to simply ask them to call a truce, but I simply opted most days to walk away. It was a reminder that humility, especially public humility is a virtue I admire and will continue to strive to practice in my own life. While I admire the work these guys do, especially after hearing some of their stories, and the sacrifice they make to serve and protect...I guess I would have appreciated a bit more modesty.

Lessons from Key West-Volume 4

If it seems like rain is coming...give it about 5-7 minutes, the clouds will pass, giving way to the sun. There's a sermon in there somewhere.

Lessons from Key West-Volume 3

OK, so I'm on a roll today...three posts! Inspired, I guess.

This is "women's week" in Key West. For a town that celebrates it's openly homosexual population, there are a lot of gay men, but in many cases fewer gay women. But the lesbians come to town in full force during "women's week." Needless top say, there are many lesbian couples almost everywhere you go.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I spent the late afternoon at the Hogs Breath Saloon, a Key West favorite, with as eclectic a mix of people as you'll find anywhere in the U.S., maybe the world. The band started at 5:00 PM, and I watched them set-up.

The lead singer was a young woman, although to see her dress and her mannerisms, you might have thought otherwise. Now for a bit of honesty! I pride myself on being "open" to a variety of lifestyles. Despite my call to ministry, expecially in the Lutheran church that has struggled with TRUE acceptance, I have always been pretty accepting of all. I thought...

Even in college, at Lock Haven University, there was a large lesbian population. I got pretty used to lots of "alternative" behaviors.

And yet, there I was...judging! Yep, I was judging (in my own mind) this young woman. Judging her dress. Judging her "perceived" lifestyle. She went on to openly admit her preferences, and I was the typical heterosexual Christian snob.

Then she sang!

Her voice was so melodic. almost angelic. I was transformed by her giftedness.

A GIFTED child of God.

How dare I judge.
How dare I assume anything about this young woman without viewing her through the lens that our Lord views her....as a gifted CHILD.

I was a bit humbled. I recalled my time with the turtles this morning. All I saw was what I percieved to be her limitations. How dare I. She was a beautiful child of God, who blessed with a gift for music that helped me transcend my own prejudices, opened me to a side of her that I might have never been willing to see.

So much for practicing Grace.

So much for being open to God's presence in the world.

It was a reminder that I have a long way to go in dealing with my own "isms." Thank God for this young woman, for the music that she produced, both on stage and in her own life. And forgive me Lord for my rush to judgement.

Lessons from Key West-Volume 2

I'm staying at the Hyatt Vacation Club, who have an agreement with the Hyatt Hotel, just five blocks away on Front St. in Key West. So I made my way there this morning, a daily ritual for me as a workout fanatic. Just outside the Hyatt lobby, on the way to their small, but well-equipped fitness room, is a turtle pond.

Known for three animal species in particular, Key West is home to many turtles, chickens and roosters (who run wild in the streets), and cats (thanks mostly to Earnest Hemingway, who kept a bevy of them).

The Hyatt has a turtle pond, with a sign that reads, "for your viewing pleasure, do not touch the turtles as they might bite." I laughed, but honored the warning.

There might have been 30 turtles in this concrete, man-made pond. One as large as a "STOP" sign, with others varying in size from a trash-can lid to a hockey puck. There were two wooden bridges jutting up out of the water, and a sand mound for their sunning pleasure. Some were taking advantage of the opportunity to park themselves in the sun, while many just kept swimming...their heads just out of the water, while they floated along the surface.

So, here's my revelation.

The turtles parked on the sand mound or the bridge looked to me like typical turtles...slow, prodding, barely able to lift their heads and almost comatose in their behavior.

However, and I must admit...I've never watched turtles SWIM before, mostly because when I've witnessed them, they are in a surf setting, while these turtles were in a clear pond. These slow-moving, seemingly awkward creatures moved like liquid mercury in the water.

Seemless.

Graceful.

Almost with a sense of purpose, (especially those who swam over to me, assuming I was the next tourist to feed them),

I watched for a good 10 minutes, and it occured to me:

Turtles we assume, are slow-moving, prodding, awkward creatures. Yet, in the water..they are graceful and almost elegant, swimming swiftly and adeptly to the next destination. As I thought about my own life, it occurred to me that as human beings we experience some of the same.

Many of us swim adeptly through some aspects of our lives. I'll use my own example here. It tends to take limited effort for me to practice the ministry to which I have been called. I LOVE youth, their parents, congregational dynamics, etc, and tend to find comfort in helping others navigate life. I can help young people interpret their own emotions, build relationships with significant adult partners and peers, and in some cases, avoid the pitfalls of their young lives.

Yet, In my own life, sometimes like the turtles I watched today, in my own personal life I can be slow-moving, awkward and almost like a "turtle out of water," so to speak.

Is this God's way of keeping us humble?

Is there ever a moment that our peronal and professional lives align in a seamless orchestra of melody and rythym? Mixing metaphors...sorry. I kept thinking all day, funny how God helps us interpret our own challenges in the simplicity of Creation. Thank God for the tortugas!

Lessons from Key West-Volume 1

I'm on vacation in Key West! One of my favorite destinations in all the world. It is an eclectic mix of some of the most interesting people you'll ever meet. A large gay community. Drop-outs from the American "way of life." Cuban and Haitian ex-patriots. Alcoholics. Drag queens. You name it, Key West has it. Some would say the debauchery, degradation, and defiance exclude this town from God's abundant Grace. I whole-heartedly disagree! I humbly submit my reflections from Key West, as a testimony to the spirit of her people, and of God's Spirit acting in this place...

Tonight I spent happy hour at the Hogs Breath Saloon, "better than no brearth at all," is their tagline. I love it. It is an assembly of all the best personalities that comprise Key West.

I sat beside a guy from Austin, Texas and his wife. She and her daughter (32), and her best friend, set out for a walk along the famous Duval Street, so I engaged him in conversation. Turns out, his wife is a welder, who was exposed to the bright light of a welding torch without her goggles, burning her retna beyond repair. The climate of Key West, mostly humid (like it is this week), and somewhat overcast, is best for her condition. So they bought a home here, where they reside three months out of the year. It helps her "condition," and allows her to function almost without restriction.

What struck me about the whole conversation was the grace with which he shared his personal sacrifice. He had no apprehension about doing what was necessary for his wife to thrive. Make no mistake, he has a pretty good business back in Austin as an electrical contractor, owns other properties in a a variety of Texas towns, and is pretty well connected in his home state. BUT, knowing the sacrifice involved, and not being all that much a fan of Key West, he was prepared to come here annually for up to three months, to be sure his wife was healthy and happy.

So, I asked..."what about Galveston Island," off the coast of Texas...didn't it have a similar climate? Yes..he shared, but not quite the same. Key West it seemed, with it's clean, unpolluted air, heavy humidity, and realaxed pace, suited her needs just perfectly.

What struck me was the absolute sacrifice I heard in his voice. He knew, without a doubt that this was not HIS choice, but he did so without apprehension because it's what was best for his wife. He even shared with me the properties elsewhere that they own, talked about the opportunities to succeed in Utah, west Texas and Colorado, but never once came across as feeling deprived of those opportunities.

I admired his conviction, his compassion for his wife, his sacrifice...and thought to myself, this is Christ-like. I ask him about his belief in God, and he shared that God never gives us more than we can handle...a common response from pseudo-Christians, but I had to remove my "judgemental" filter for just a moment and appreciate what this guy was really about. He was absolutely making a Christ-like sacrifice, without naming it as such...and was happy to do so. I told him as much. He wasn't all that freaked out, so we chatted a bit longer, and parted.

So often, we assume that towns like Key West, Miami (south beach), New Orleans, have so little to teach us...yet my experience tells me that God's Spirit is EVERYWHERE, acting through those we don't even expect. May we ALL be a bit less judgmental, and more open to the movement of the Spirit wherever we find ourselves. Thank God for humbling me yet again, even in the most obscure and remote places as the Hogs Breath Saloon.






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New Shoes

There is sometimes a tendency among Americans, when faced with the kind of poverty we have experienced here to respond in a way that seems obvious and comfortable to us, to put money towards trying to fix the issue. This often happens INSTEAD of engagement. However, we have been engaging the issues here, and with great caution to be listening to what God is saying to us, and particularly what the people we encounter have been saying as well.

So when some of our volunteers noticed the children of Casa Esperanza, the shelter that houses women and children of abusive relationships, could use some new shoes, they went to the women and asked, "might we take you and your children to the store on a shopping trip for new shoes?"

The response from the staff and from the women was very positive. The opportunity not only to get new shoes for their children, but to have a trip to town for shoes for themselves and their kids, along with the opportunity to pick out something they wanted and not something that has simple been passed along, was exciting. It ended up being just as powerful a moment for our volunteers as well.

Soon after lunch, the women started to appear in the main room, dressed in clean clothes and with their hair done. The groups loaded into vans and made their way to Ensenada to a local store, similar to a department store in the States. Al the children and their mothers got to select the shoes that their children wanted. Many picked the first pair they saw that caught their attention, irregardless of size, some even choosing sizes a bit too small, as this is what many have become accustomed to wearing, After some gentle prompting from some of our volunteers, they were able to get sizes they could wear comfortably and even have a little space to grow into to. The relationship building and community that developed in those hours was nothing short of remarkable. Casa Esperanza's Director, Jasmine, commented on how important the outing was for the women and children and thanked our group for their compassionate efforts and generosity.

Later that evening, during our time together processing our day, our volunteers who spent the day at Casa Esperanza with the women and their children, and who experienced the shopping trip were emotional about the experience. Many of our group felt we had received so much more than we gave in those hours.

It led Dawn to ask, might we do something where we can continue that community growth and also expose the women to men and women serving side by side, and sharing in healthy relationship. It was suggested that we invite the whole community to Lantern Hill on Monday for a Fiesta. We would prepare games and perhaps a Bible study for the women and children, perhaps do some self-care kinds of things, like make-up and nails for the women. We would cook together and serve them a meal, sitting down side-by-side to share in the feast. We hoped it would be another way of accompanying our new friends at Casa, and not merely an act of charity. Jasmine agreed that it was a wonderful plan and planning for the Fiesta is underway as of this writing.

It occurs to me that when Jesus invited others to a meal there was always great care taken to meet them where they were, and to listen intently. I only pray we might do the same. I am also thankful to our congregation, many of whom did respond to our trip by giving us money to help where it as necessary. Rather than just giving it to the LH team or to the ministries we encountered here, I am thankful God gave us opportunities to share it in ways that empower, accompany and allow the people we are called to serve to share in the moment. In the process we have been moved and changed in ways we couldn't anticipate. Thanks be to God.

Tribal Tensions

So we built a few beds for the people at the "concrete village," or well, wooden frames to hold a sleeping mat, all in an effort to get them off the concrete floor and the cardboard that they often share with 8-10 others in their families.

However, even in communities of poverty there are prejudices, biases, racial profiling so to speak. In the village are basically two tribes of native peoples, who in Mexico are on the lowest rung of the social strata. They are overlooked by the government, receive less than a living wage in many cases, and often don't even speak Mexican Spanish, let alone America English, so communication is greatly impaired, but we managed.

Two tribes primarily inhabit "concrete village," and most of the village is from one tribe, with one family of about 14 from the Oaxacan tribe of south-central Mexico. The children of this family are often ostracized by their peers. Stone throwing is a hobby for many of these children, and the target of some of those stones are the Oaxacan children. Their mother is often excluded when others "go to town," for food and other supplies, and they are often ignored by others in the village, even excluded from using the stone wash slab in the village courtyard.

The Oaxacan family was one of the first to warm to the staff from Lantern Hill, and as such the relationship with this family has grown more quickly. So they were the first to be offered a new bed frame, but this came with some serious politicing on our part as we needed to offer the woman who is perceived by the others to be the head of this village, and from another tribe, a similar bed frame.

We needed to finish a number of bed frames and even attempt to install them simultaneously to help keep the peace in the midst of these tribal tensions. The bed frames took longer than we expected as some were larger than others and a few were made to be mounted on ladders, similar to bunk beds, to accommodate the many members of each household. It took us the better part of a day and a half, working on bed frames and the trench (see the Water is Flowing post from yesterday), and the install went fairly well.

The process was frustrating at times, but not without it's rewards. Frustrating to see the conditions in each family home, and to navigate the cultural challenges even within this community, but rewarding to know that some 40+ people may sleep more comfortably tonight. Additionally, we had made progress in strengthening the trust and growing relationships with the entire community as four more families ask for beds, and we may have even helped take a few bricks from the wall ethnic wall that divides these tribes...God willing.

The Water is Flowing

In the community of "concrete village," a migrant farming community living in a hollowed out shell of what may have been a barn or farm equipment shed that was never completed, lives about 10-12 families, with as many as 10-12 members each. Since there is limited running water, a few hose faucets appear around the perimeter of the building, there are only one or two makeshift showers that stand like sentinels in the middle of the "courtyard" where children play, women cook on open fires and daily life is lived out.

The showers are serviced by a single hose, and are built next to a large wash slab, where mostly women and children wash their clothes daily, before hanging them on simple clothesline that criss-cross the area like a spiders web. The challenges are many, but today we are addressing the standing, stagnant water that pool just outside the shower (no plumbing, so no drainage), alongside of the water running off the concrete wash slab. It attracts insects and the community chickens that drink from it, as well as breeding disease.

A new trench with more slope will help, but we are thinking perhaps of even adding PVC pipe to collect and move that water away from the area. PVC is expensive here, and by removing the water altogether, we remove one of the opportunities for the chickens to drink, despite the challenges that represents. Furthermore, we cannot find what we need to funnel the water into the pipe, so we opted to fill the new trench with stone to help drainage, and ended the day with flowing water, a nice alternative to the standing water we discovered the day before. Will the water continue to flow? The Lantern Hill team will monitor it, and if more action is necessary that will have to wait for another week and another group. It's one of the frustrating pieces for we as Americans, who are used to seeing projects through to completion, and wanting that closure. Here, that is not always the case. Patience and persistence are often required.

However, the highlight of the day as is so often the case at the village and other locations where we serve and are served by the people of this area, were the opportunities to interact and build relationships with the people. Like the woman in the end unit who has barely, if ever spoken to the LH team, who did allow Colleen to stand with her at her wash slab, separate from the one in the village courtyard, where she often isolates herself. Or for Asidra and Tiadora (probably not the correct spelling), who both invited us into their homes as we measured for the new platform beds we would later build.

The progress here is often slow by our standards, but how many of us would allow strangers to simply walk into our neighborhoods and enter our homes to do building projects, or to pick up our children and play with them without first getting at least a criminal background check on us? Yet, it happens here with some frequency. You can begin to understand the apprehensions of these simple, hopeful and loving people. God is most certainly at work here...I'm thankful to play some small role in that.

An Awakening

I arose to the creaking of the bunkbed frames all around me. No wonder, it is sunrise on the west coast of Mexico, 5:30 AM here, but my internal bodyclock says 8:30 AM, in the east. Not many of our youth are stirring yet, but I am happy to welcome this new day, and anxious to see what it brings. The anticipation is too much for my feeble brain to overcome, so rising is going to be easier than getting a few more winks of sleep.

Margarita & her son Gabby, who prepare meals here at LH, had a raditional Mexican breakfast ready by 8:00, and we were off. There were thre options for our group of 25 this day, a small group wee invited to Margarita's home to help prepare homemade tamales for dinner, while another small group was off to Casa Esperanza, and a thrid group went to the Concrete Village. Keenly aware of the poverty we'd see first-hand at CV, I wanted to be with that group, and it was much as I had remembered it (see previous blog posts from November 2009).

CV presented some similar challenges as I've experienced in the past, but a new shower has been installed by a work group who visited in December. The drainage from the shower that combines with the drainage from the outdoor concrete and wood wash table, used by the entire community for daily clothes washing, was not adequate. In fact, there was pooling water that attracted insects and created a tempting play area for the many children. A new drainage ditch, perhaps with some drain system was called for and was one of the agenda items for the day.

There was also a need for wooden bed frames in many of the small concrete "rooms" where families of the village resided, that had formerly been stalls for animals and farm implements. One women when asked where she slept, pointed to the cardboard pile located in one corner of her stall, while her four children slept on cardboard in the other corner. Yep, bed frames with some kind of sleeping mat or foam roll were definitely needed. We queried families about their need, took measurements and strategized about a plan for building beds.

The trench was well underway by the time we returned with lumber for beds, but the building would have to wait until tomorrow.

Meanwhile, friends at Casa Espernaza were cleaning and organizing spare rooms, used for storage and a soon-to-be added computer lab for the women at the shelter. Meanwhile, weeding needed done around the compund's perimeter. Tiresome, sweaty, and sometimes what seemed like thankless work was necessary and appreciated as day one drew to a close.

The fresh tamales were a welcome treat at dinnertime, and we discovered that Shawn, who wasn't sure if he'd like Mexican food really took to the potato and onion filled tortilla's that we had for lunch. So much so that he ate a few more at dinnertime.

We spent the evening processing our day, a tradition at LH, and found some typical but important responses to the first day's interaction with the migrant farm workers we met, and the women of Casa. Mostl obvious were the sharp contrasts between poverty and wealth that we often overlook in the States, combined with frustrations about not being able to "do" enough. What was also obvious was that we were beginning to notice our own cultural biases and how we might work through those this week.

Tired, there was still tme for some caring conversation around the fire pit, and overlooking the surf. Thnk God for this day, for the people we met and for the things we are learning about ourselves and others.

A Place to Lay My Head

In 2007, I took a new "call" at a congregation in a suburban neighborhood, with mostly affluent families. My commitment then, as now, was to help acompany youth in faith formation and vocational discernment, alongside of living out their Baptismal calling by faithfully serving in the manner of Jesus Christ in the world today.

I suggested then that we target a trip to Lantern Hill Lutheran missional servant site outside Ensenada, a place I have blogged extensively about on this site in the past. Yesterday, we arrived with 17 youth/young adults and eight adults in tow, all expecting to "serve" indigenous people, along with children and their families living in poverty. As usual, my truest hope was that in addition to what little service we might be to them, that our brothers and sisters in Mexico would be a gift to us in what they helped reveal within us. Perhaps we would begin to see our own lives through a different lens, begin to live our lives of abundance with greater appreciation, perhaps shift our sense of entitlement, and feel moved to adopt a lifestyle of serving others in the manner and name of Jesus.

Monday we began that journey at 3 AM eastern, and have arrived at Lantern Hill, with high expectations and much enthusiasm. I wonder how the emotions will change when we encounter the poverty and adverse conditions we find our fellow Christians living in here. Will my friends be shocked, scared, offended, moved to action, depressed? God will most certainly act in, through and on behalf of hurting children everywhere, and perhaps this week through our efforts, but also through those we encounter, to heal the hurting within us...within our souls, lives and egos.

We have safely and easily endured the travel, but the "trip" has only just begun.

Sandy

Sandy Lamb was a saint.

With all due respect to my Catholic friends, I'm not talking about canonizing her, although there could be an argument made for that as well, but a saint in the truest sense of the word as we understand it as Lutheran Christians. A baptized ad beloved child of God, she lived her life fully immersed in the presence of the Spirit, and reflecting to the world the light of the living Christ. Sandy knew and believed in the promise of Jesus' resurrection so completely that she could live her life for others, never doubting her own salvation. She knew plenty of pain, the brokenness of divorce, cancer, financial strife, and even endured a lawsuit against her business that she took very personally, but she never waivered in her belief that as that beloved child of God, she could count on her Lord, and it freed her to act on behalf of humanity.

She gave generously to her church, and to a number of charities, but few were as dear to her heart as the need to train and raise up young Christian leaders in faith. She and her husband Gordon approached me in 1993 to help them design a program for raising up young leaders in faithful vocational discernment. They spent ten of thousands of dollars annually funding a ministry that brought young leaders from various congregations together to explore their faith, grow in their own confidences, and discern God's calling to them, despite their vocational direction. Leadership Training Camp became Sandy's passion, and she more thn supported it financially, she got involved personally.

The youth that experienced the program were like "her kids" in many ways. She communicated with many through emails, letters and phone calls, learning about their lives and prayerfully caring for their needs. Even when her own life was strained by the challenges listed above, she stayed true her ommitment to support her LT's. Even when she and Gordon moved from the territory of our synod, she kept supporting the LT ministry. Even when cancer theatened her life, she kept supporting LT ministry. She was relentless in her desire to help raise up faithful young leaders, and did so with great zeal and fervor.

I will miss Sandy, because she exemplified what we have always tried to teach young people about Jesus' style of ministry, to be a leader one must first and foremost be a servant. She lived the servant leader lifestyle, that became even more apparent as I listened to friends and former employees eulogize her at her memoril service last Friday night. Asked by Gordon to speak about her philanthropic work, I was flattered and humbled to do so, and hope my words helped others find comfort at her passing.

Sandy will stand for me as an example of how a person of great faith can live life fully right up to the end, and never compromise her values or desire to serve others faithfully in Jesus name! Sandy reflected the presence of the living Christ in the world right up till the end of her own life...I pray God's strength to be equal to that same task. Thanks be to God for Sandy. Thanks be to God.