Something about Mary

There's something about Mary...

Of course, I love each of my children "equally" but really "differently" is a better adverb.  Because they are different, because the interaction of me with each of them is different, because I'm not sure describing love without understanding the fact that the love is ultimately an interaction between two people... 

But I digress... here are some things I love about Mary Mirembe Louise Bartels.  Most of you who know her well at all will not think I'm boasting to say that Mary is by her very nature loving and sweet.  Whether it is a middle child phenomena or just the very fiber of her being, she very much wants to please and to help other people be happy.  She can burst into tears if she thinks someone she loves is sad or worse yet that she made them sad.  For a concrete example, she persuaded me to draw in some figures (her and Rachel) to our Ugly Duckling book... after a string of characters who tell the duckling that she is ugly, "mary" and "rachel" are sitting in the snow banks saying "you are beautiful".   And then one night recently, Mary said, "we should change it so they say 'you will be beautiful' because on the next page he grows up and meets the other grown swans who are beautiful.

This sensitivity about other people's emotions seems a bit related to her environmental "sensitivity"... from a young age she's exhibited keen sensory observation about her environment--sounds, smells, sights, changes, textures, etc.  I'm sure it is partly her age, but I love when she notices things in a picture book that don't make sense.  And now she'll even notice some part of the story that doesn't fit with or isn't resolved enough, etc.  I'm sure we'll have some interesting years ahead as she tries to reconcile racial/cultural issues because she is more sensitive and in tune than Daniel and I think certain things might not be fine with her regarding the discrepancy of wealth and resources and roles and
opportunities, etc.

Recently very into puzzles, a perfect "observation" game for her

No problem that Rachel leans over to blow the candle out with her

Mary is awesome older sister to her very close follower, Rachel.  You never know if you are biased but I've watched a fair amount of children in my day and I think for the amount of possible conflict the two could have, they are very harmonious... and much of that is due to Mary's kind and patient interactions with Rachel.  I've often attributed that also to the amount of care they've had from Dorothy who would definitely prioritize harmony/community over "fairness" or "individuality".

Mary is artistic... yeah... i can't wait to do art with her over the years.  And she has all the natural signs of it... loves to spend long periods of time painting/drawing.  She is very particular and notices what colors and where, etc.  Sadly, she's starting to show the tell-tale perfectionism/frustration when something doesn't quite meet the visual ideal she has in her mind.  She loves nature and noticing "artistic" elements of life (patterns, colors, shapes, uniquenesses, etc).  

Mary is affectionate.  Over to you Mark! :)  I laugh because Rachel copies Mary on many things but there is no doubt about the naturalness of physical affection... mary is genuinely more affectionate--she enjoys giving and receiving affection (as opposed to rachel who copies but basically gives very sidewards, stiff "embraces")  That said, if there is anyone who receives Rachel's heartfelt affection, it is her older sister Mary.

Well, these are just some tidbits, but on her fourth birthday, I wanted to pause and commemorate this special child of ours. 

Some small celebrations

First some words... if you are lucky, i'll post some photos later...

but i'm in town, and aware that I've gotten "behind" and i can't get bogged down or perfectionism will get the better of me.

tomorrow is Mary's birthday, so i hope to write about her tomorrow! But today there is some coordinating about parties and celebration.

We live on campus at Uganda Christian University and it houses probably two dozen family units, about 8 of those families are ex-patriate families... so due to the nature of birthday celebrations (many Ugandans wouldn't know their own birthday, Ugandan school kids celebrate birthdays by getting the birthday child wet "bathday", and generally speaking there is less pomp and circumstance for Ugandan birthdays). In the days when I  could convince Mary and Rachel that UCU day care was fun, we would send a cake with them to daycare and share in that context.  But Mary, like Daniel, has decided that she's grown out of daycare and her birthday party will likely involve inviting the handful of ex-patriate family kids around.  And I suspect we'll make crepe paper flowers (thanks Grandma Kay) and eat cake (thanks grandma for napkins) and call it a "happy birthday".   And she'll think its awesome.  And I'll remember that such low key birthday celebrations are a gift of living here...

As for other gifts, UCU has put the residences on the generator... I think I've gathered through my off-campus connections that power has been mostly off for the last three days.  wow, great timing on that generator thing---while on an environmental side, you kind of wonder if generators are the cure we want to be celebrating, this circumstance is a little lower guilt.  As explained to me, when you run a certain capacity generator, it is putting out a certain amount of power no matter what.  And UCU's generator was producing more power than the campus was using and as of now it seems the excess power can be used by residences without a "cost"/just using the balance of generated power.

I am also celebrating being done with teaching-- I'm not so sure that I feel I'm a big classroom teacher.  Small groups, one on one discussion, written analysis, you can give me all day. I've decide that I could be an awesome online teacher!!! :)  But the 20+ faces staring at you is enough to unnerve me.  and I have this feeling that my actual skill set (visual, verbal) excludes presentation/oral/on the spot skills.  Mark claims teaching is a skill you develop and that because something is hard or feels unnatural does not mean that one lacks the skill set.  But I think i beg to differ. :)

Anyway, these are some of the small celebrations going on in my world.

Even a child is known by his actions

Sometime, somewhere, in my near or distant history of motherhood is the chorus "even a child is known by his actions, by whether his conduct is pure and right." I just used handy dandy google as my guide and found out that this song is based on proverbs 20:11.   And I thought i'd spend a little time on two implications of this--one for me/mark as adults and one for us as parents, and the role we have in raising our children.

This photo is not a photo of our neighbor's son, but it could be.  They were recently recounting that they are known as the parents of their third born child because he's such a character--not typical as you'd often be known as the parents of the first born.  And their son does wear his superman outfit everyday, in the equatorial heat, in any and all contexts and prefers to be referred to as superman.  He is definitely a child who is known by his actions.

So, how does all this relate to me?
i think the first thing i notice about the proverb is that basically the writer must be trying to correct adults who are trying to justify their actions.  The beauty of language, "even" seems to set the tone for this.  even="c'mon fool"...  and I think the basic point of this is true.  Actions are serious.

Here are some thoughts as related to my life:
1. A cross-cultural reality is that actions do not mean the same thing in every culture.  I think every ex-pat/foreigner deals with the self-consciousness, stress, energy of trying to translate certain actions (either actions to take on for the new culture or actions to cease or hide due to their meaning).  This can be a hard pill to swallow.  For example, dress code... I find it very tiring to be aware of my dress; I'm not good at that in my own culture.  Or eating/drinking while working... I love having a "drink to go" and also grocery shopping-- pretty sure that's defaming the sacramental quality of food/drink as a social communal experience.  That's a bummer.  And I can't claim that I follow all local rules/actions... I'm not really touching the iceberg on what these "actions" but i know that by my actions, i'm often conveying different/opposing/inappropriate things about myself than I would in my own culture.

2. Then there is the issue of actions vs. words... Mark is a real pragmatist; my mom appreciates (and finds curious) Mark's very pragmatic side by giving him various gifts including a local motto (slogan made of shells and seeds) that says "Talking doesn't grow pumpkins" or a magnet that says,  "Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary use words".... Generally speaking, Mark is a man of doing the right thing, more than talking about the right thing.   And I do find this attractive and sometimes maddening... can we do the right thing after we talk about what the right thing is????

Some parenting applications:

And this brings me to reflecting on our role as parents... obviously as you grow into parenthood you are faced with the somewhat humbling(read: daunting) project of raising and teaching these little people to also take responsibility for their actions and to learn how to choose the "right" way.  I'm grateful to have married Mark and his German Lutheran roots.  My mom used to sort of chuckle because Mark would be talking to Daniel (around 2years old) and giving him choices--in a very rational, calm voice he'd present Daniel with his choices and outline some of the consequences of them.   And sure enough, Daniel at age 7 is developing into a very logical sort of fellow, not without the impulsiveness of childhood (think he ate his 10 pieces of halloween candy within the hour) What's interesting is that Mark has adapted that end game to meet Mary's need who tends to be much more emotional.  When I'm impatient with her drama, he's usually able to scoop her up, give her lots of affirmation and affection and then shift into her choices without her feeling "accused" and "sensitive" regarding whatever "choices" she has in front of her.

A funny anecdote on this issue (are there gender differences in this realm?): The girls had these two little pink pillows that had a brand name on them "Bad Girl" with a halo over the "B".  One night Rachel said, "mom, what does my pillow say".... I, not aware that anything could ensue, said, "Bad girl".  This brought on a torrent of tears that no measure of explanation/trickery/humor could assuage.  "You said I'm a bad girl"; "my pillow says i'm a bad girl", "i'm not a bad girl", "i don't want to be a bad girl" and so on.   And I have found this is a different angle that has come up with the girls; they seem more prone to internalize any discipline as an accusation that they are "bad girls".   So, the "choices" conversation has shifted a bit.  I find I'm much more conscious to talk about their "actions" as they seem to take any other disciplinary language/tone as an outright attack on their very soul/character.  Again, I would say at this point that Mary is the very sensitive soul and Rachel is copying Mary's patterns.  Time will tell if Rachel is actually as sensitive as Mary.  But perhaps that ambiguity also adds to the humor of her "bad girl" pillow break-down.

I think Mark would say that we're a good complement... that on his own he might have come up with a few too many "right ways" and rules.  My strengths lies more in the big picture, what really matters in terms of a conflict of wills.  Is coloring with washable markers on one's entire body the time to bring up the "right" way?   Now, I'm not writing a parenting manual and many parents might have a no-marker-right-way-rule but I think Mark and I are seeking to try and boil down the "right" ways to keep them few and focused and consistent.  And this has by no means come without some serious "discussions" about what "majoring in the majors" means-- with lessons learned by both of us.

While I think I sound more conclusive than I feel, I've just been reminded recently that we will be known by our actions--- as adults and as children (and as rearers of the children!:)

Gratitude

Ah, Van Gogh.... the fullness of life.  I wanted to write a little about gratitude and I was trying to think of what art work equalled gratitude to me and I think it is all mixed up with "fullness of life."  Van Gogh's paintings definitely inspire me to see the fullness of life--colors, textures, whole compositions, movement, contrasts, all the fullness of life...

So, I've finished the lecturing part of Compassion and feel like one of the take-aways this time around in teaching it is that the right kind of Christian life, service, compassion, etc, is marked by gratitude.  "This is the deepest meaning of compassionate action.  It is the grateful, free and joyful expression of the great encounter with a compassionate God.  And it will be fruitful even when we can see neither how nor why.  In and through such action, we realize that indeed all is grace and that our only possible response is gratitude."  

As one who can be prone to "angst" about my roles/actions in life, I feel this is a timely reminder that Christians should be testifying to a loving, compassionate God with faith that he will bring a new heaven and a new earth and we are grateful participants--receiving his compassion and fullness of life and sharing that same compassion and fullness of life.   

Right now, I'm enjoying the "fullness" of blogging--catching my people up on my life and my thoughts  via a medium that helps me process but also allows me to reflect a little more intentionally.  I'm enjoying some other writing projects on my list (a couple more art articles, a guest blog on "stuff expat aid workers like). I also enjoy teaching USP students, managing our house and all the people therein, thinking of some summer plans and what that means, thinking through some of my artistic possibilities, enjoying our kids as they get older and grow into their own persons, appreciating various cultural/communal aspects of our life, enjoying more time for reading...  Generally speaking I feel grateful for the chance to seek and receive the fullness of life and to share that grace in the areas that best match my talents/contexts/abilities/relationships, etc. 

Someone once told me that instead of wearing WWJD bracelets (What Would Jesus Do), we could wear WWVGD (What would Van Gogh Do) and i found this to hit on something.  Obviously, if we could all become like Jesus that would be fantastic, but due to the various interpretations and legalism that gets wrapped up in these attempts, its refreshing to think outside the box a little.  What would it be like to live into the fullness of this life as depicted by Van Gogh--to celebrate the intensity of our humanity and our environment and the common things of this life.   "Love calls us to the things of this world" (line from Richard Wilbur poem).   

Seasons and a slant of light

The USP duplex (not our house, but our colleagues; we look down at their place from our house--hence the photo)... a couple points to make... 

I don't know that this photograph quite captures it but "there is a certain slant of light".... while we don't have the seasons that mark many North American's calendar, we do have some slight variations.  The big categories are dry and wet season.  But for me, someone who has always loved late afternoon light, there are "light" seasons in Uganda.  Basically, we live on the equator which means 12 hours of light, 12 hours of dark. However, I find that it does shift... it can get light by 6:15 am and then beginning to get dark by 6:30 pm....and it can shift and get light closer to 6:45 and stay light until 7:00ish... I haven't figured out which months this happens or what it means exactly, but i know we're now in the season for lovely orange light in the late afternoon. 

So, this is our lovely tree in our yard which has magnificent colors in the bark in rain or shine... but Mary and I always try to find the pink, purple and orange in it-- a concept that I'm glad she understands and enjoys!

As November comes, and I hear and read about fall colors and holidays and snow, I have to say that I, like my mom, do struggle with missing the seasons--especially the cozy ones.  I know this is anathema to all my sunshine loving friends and family, but deep down i'm a melancholy-weather girl.  What's been interesting to me is that my kids who have only grown up in the equatorial sun seem to, at least sentimentally, identify with cozy weather.  I've always assumed that what you grow up with feels "homey", but I'm thinking that like other parts of personality, we do have a connection to our environment that somehow suits us.  

But this topic of seasons and this shot of the duplex, also reminds me of seasons of life.  We have been blessed with many staff members who are also our friends and our community.  This year one good friend/colleague is leaving and we are entering the season of letting her go and preparing for a new person/s.  Other friends/colleagues are also going through big personal seasons of life and you can't help but give deference to the seasons--they will come and go and we will enjoy some more than others.  A favorite Zora Neale Hurston quotation of mine is from Their Eyes Were Watching God; "There are years that ask questions and years that answer them."

For those in North America, I'll get back for a fall one day, but until then soak it up for me. :) And I promise I try to soak up my certain slant of light on a tree that marks this season of life for me!

  

Already but not yet

I feel a bit of a ramble coming on but I'll try to tie together the "journey" of my mind at present. 

I am preparing for teaching on Friday, and teaching Henri Nouwen no less, and so my thoughts are definitely a bit more in the abstract and more serious claims of a Christian life.  

I was reading my friend's blog (our new neighbor who I share the school commute with has begun her work as a medical doctor at an AIDs clinic).  She has just begun work and was sharing about the intensity/tension of having so much and of helping those who have so little, many of whom are literally dying.  And then I got online today and saw the art article I had written for a local online art journal (startjournal.org--Vision for Africa article).   And part of me knows that as Christians we are all called to live out this embodied humanity of our gifts, our strengths, our loves, our personalities and our limitations.  But part of me doesn't trust that at the end of the day, I am not ultimately creating a life about my own self-preservation, fulfillment, "carving out for myself niches in life where I can maintain a safe distance from others"(Nouwen).  

I'm teaching our students about Henri Nouwen's book Compassion in which he claims that as humans (even most Christians), we're wired for competition and defining ourselves by our distinctions and self-preservation.  He quotes Senator Hubert Humphrey who said, "Gentlemen, look at this pencil.  Just as the eraser is only a very small part of this pencil and is used only when you make a mistake, so compassion is only called upon when things get out of hand.  The main part of life is competition: only the eraser is compassion.  It is sad to say, gentlemen, but in politics compassion is just part of the competition."  

As I'm teaching the students, and telling them that if they just do this more radical life of compassion and discipleship together with other Christians they'll be fine; I'm thinking "I'm with other Christians trying to figure out my compassionate life and I don't know that I'm hitting the mark." In thinking about all this on a more personal level, I found this picture of Rembrandt's which is comforting--- here's Mary, carrying the saviour of the world, letting it "be done unto me according to thy will", and still looking a bit bewildered and lost and tired and alone.   I think there is some theological word for "already but not yet" and in my preparations for teaching I'm feeling that this is part of where I am--- an advent acceptance of life, that we are preparing, that Christ has come but we're also waiting for his coming, that we are called to be "interruptions" (Katongle, Mirror to the Church) or "displaced people" (Nouwen-- "We do not got after crosses, but we have to take up the crosses that have been ours all along.  To follow Jesus, therefore means first and foremost to discover in our daily live's God's unique vocation for us).  

And I think these calls are best done in a community of fellow "interrrupters", fellow displaced people, fellow symbols of God's presence/solidarity with suffering and our fallen state.   And I can always pray more, seek more, ask others to pray, watch and learn from others (in person, in books, in community, in prayer).  And I may be a little tired, lost, unsure, heading down a dusty path hoping that I am being obedient, hoping that God's miracle is casting light in the midst of the darkness.  

Many a truth is said in jest

Many a truth is said in jest: this is a more secular version and I could add in some Christian language to up the sarcasm but I think I'll let it stand alone.  I think a reality that is different in home life overseas is the house help factor which everyone navigates a bit differently.  And I hope to share some of my experience over the years on this subject, but this is a humorous introduction to the issue.  

From a blog called "whatexpataidworkerslike.com"

EAWs like (or at least often end up) feeling ambivalent about “the help.”   They think of themselves as scrappy and self-reliant – certainly more than capable of cooking, cleaning and washing clothes on their own.  They also see all humanity as their brethren, nobody inherently more noble or deserving than the next.  So, they are constitutionally predisposed to be uncomfortable with the subservient dynamic of house help.

But they need help, don’t they?  Whether they are community-based or working from a swank office in a capital city, EAWs at least need the laundry done.  And washing clothes by hand alone is a full time job.  Part time at least.  And they have that other full time job making the world right, so they feel justified in paying someone “the fair market rate” (which inconveniently hovers around the global poverty line) to get some things done around the house.   And they’re doing their part to take a dent out of the always enormous national unemployment rate.  Who can argue with that?

Who needs to argue with that?  The EAW is in a constant state of arguing with herself over the whole endeavor.

Given her tidy salary and dank perks, she could pay more, but that’s really distorting the local economy, and she’s here to tread lightly so she can’t go around doing that, can she?  Or can she?

Anyway, she treats her 46-year-old “house girl” well.  Much better than the locals.  She pays her kids school fees, lets her leave for funerals and weddings and gives her the left-over… just about anything.  She always thanks her profusely and insists on being called by her first name.  She take a certain pride in her munificence.  But there’s that gnawing question: Am I a saint or a sucker?

Most EAWs accept paying a small farang/mzungu/whatever premium, but there’s nothing an EAW loathes more than being taken for a ride.   Paying a chump’s rate for anything is a sure sign that you don’t know the culture well enough to negotiate a local rate — a mistake an EAW cannot afford to make if he is to boast of any measure of field cred.  Plus, EAWs are well versed in evils of dependency and paternalism, so there are limits to their largesse on principle.

But then there it is.  Staring them right in the face and every day.  The inequalities of the world personified in their hire.

A newbie who doesn’t quite understand the delicate psychological equilibrium EAWs have constructed will, over a $5 glass of wine, rudely compare the price of any of his petty indulgences with the monthly salary of the help. “You know, the costs of last night’s stay at the Addis Sheraton would pay Muna’s salary for 3 months.”  This is often followed by uncomfortable silence, far away looks or occasionally eye rolling.  Then another gulp of wine.