La Llaga

There is rusty metal wall in Tijuana that not only marks the border between Mexico and the U.S., but visually defines the sharp division between the two countries. Large portions of that wall, on the Mexican side, are canvassed with crosses, coffins, memorials, even altars honoring those who have died by simply trying to cross it. Los Tijuaneses know the wall as La Llaga, or "the festering wound." And behind that wall, there is another. The other wall is taller, stronger, sterile. It is guarded by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

One of our hosts, Fr. Tom, brought us to the border, to the walls. Walls that represent a horrifying amount of suffering and loss. As we simply drove by it, I couldn't help but feel oppressed by it, taunted by it. I wanted to cross it just because it's very presence was telling me not to. But I can cross it. Freely. And those that can't cross it... or those that must risk everything to cross it... have a real reason to try. They risk losing their lives... so they can have a chance at living.

When we visited that wall we saw names; names just like those honored on the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial in Washington D.C. And these weren't just the names of men. I also saw the names of women, children, infants. Yet, what's most disturbing... is this is a living memorial. More and more names belong on it each day. As we drove away from one part, we witnessed a group of Mexicans jumping over the wall in the very spot we were standing just minutes before. Seconds later they came scrambling back. But we were assured these men would have went for it if they had seen a real opportunity. Our group was baffled. Why there? Why risk it? It seems so secure.

Fr. Tom shared more of the realities of the border with us. I have some great audio but apparently blogger doesn't offer audio hosting. I am still trying to figure out how to get audio up on this site... and I'm getting frustrated because I really want to share his comments with you.

Listening to Fr. Tom speak, I become less hopeful, more disturbed. But then Donna Eisenbath, the leader of this trip, reminded us "that walls do come down. The Berlin Wall did."

30 Minutes to a New, But Somewhat Familiar World

Thirty minutes. That's about how long it takes to get from the border of the U.S. to Tijuana. That's how long it takes to suddenly find yourself in the midst of a Feed the Children commercial. You know, those commercials that feature mangy children, dirt streaked across their faces, swollen bellies. The poverty of Tijuana was evident immediately. As we rounded the corner to the street of the oblates' house where we would be staying, I glimpsed a mother watching her pequeño muchacho, clothed in a just a t-shirt and diaper, rummaging through the trash.

But when I looked again, and really looked instead of merely glancing, I found the beauty of Tijuana to be just as evident as its poverty. I wandered around the grounds inside the gates of the oblates' house and found treasure after treasure. And as I wandered, I overheard one of our hosts, Fr. Salvador Gonzalez (endearingly known as Chava), inform us that our neighborhood is considered middle-class, “When I first moved here, this neighborhood didn’t have electricity,” he explained. “Now they have electricity.”

Tijuana is just hills and valleys and every inch of ground is covered with houses. Some are sturdy, others are just shacks thrown together for some sort of shelter. Some are more impressive than most houses of affluence in the U.S. And those can be found amidst a cluster of shacks. I gaze up at the hills, where it seems houses and shacks are practically built one upon the other, and I can’t help thinking one big downpour could easily wash away everything these people own. A sentiment most of those in my group share. Their wealth, or lack there of, seems to be at the utmost mercy of the weather.

There is so much to tell. So much that I've seen and learned in just two and a half days. My days are full. What time I can spare, I share with the muchachos; the kids who already greet me with hugs so full of love and excitement that they match those of my sister, Serena.

We must carefully watch the amount of water we use. We are advised not to flush any toilet paper. The cost of draining septic tanks, something I have never even thought about until now, is a large expense for the residents of Tijuana. The city is growing rapidly, at times entire neighborhoods popping up literally overnight. The city's water system cannot support this rampant growth, so all drinkable water is shipped in from outside sources. No one drinks the tap water here.

The first night I spotted some ninos playing futbol (aka soccer). Of course, I had to go join them. And for my simple interest in playing futbol with the muchachos, I am now rewarded with big, warm hugs every time I step outside or return to the house. Those pictured with me are Adrian, Lupita and Toni. Adrian is so sweet and lovable. Lupita has a contagious laugh. Pequena Toni simply stares at us all with a huge grin, darting into our games every so often and darting back out just as quickly.

But that is just one stitch in the tapestry of life here. Forgive me for using such a cliche, but I'm tired and don't have the energy to be creative with my writing right now.

I can't wait to share more about our work at the oblates' Chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe, hearing testimony from Mother Antonia - the mother of the prisoners, serving food at the Missionaires of Charity soup kitchen - where I also clipped an old man's fingernails, munching on street-side tacos... and more.

Roosters crow at three in the morning... but their calls merely work seamlessly into my dreams.

Speaking of... time for me to go dream.

Filmmaking

Films are dominating my consciousness right now. Before my oh-so-profound revelation with the story of A Little Princess, I had spent my entire ride home from Columbia two days prior gushing with a friend about the desires we share in making documentaries. Then, when I got home I spotted the Get Out publication on the counter. A few seconds of flipping through it revealed that as part of a showcase of local filmmakers, there would be free seminars with various successful filmmakers tackling just about every issue of the biz. My afore-mentioned friend and I took advantage of the opportunity and went. Heard some great things. One filmmaker I particularly related to. Aj Schnack is a Mizzou broadcast journalism alum just like me. And just like me, by the time he graduated, he knew he didn't want to do the local tv... just like me. So he bounced around trying to figure out where he fit in the media medium... just like I am now. Unlike me, he now has a largely-acclaimed docu out "Kurt Cobain: About a Boy." I spoke with Aj briefly after his seminar. He invited my friend and I to go out for some drinks with him and the rest of the filmmakers if we planned on being around after the showing of his film tomorrow night (technically it's tomorrow right now). Needless to say, I'm not passing this up... even though I have to be at the airport at 7:30 in the a.m. for the real tomorrow. Hopefully I'll get some last minute tips before I go shoot in Mexico. So many exciting things going on!

Fairy Tales and Romance

"Take my heart, take my heart..." The sweet words drift on the sweet sound of a child-princess's voice at the end of the movie, A Little Princess. From an early age, that movie spoke to my heart... and I had forgotten about the little treasure of a film years ago... until I just recently stumbled upon it in our movie cubbord at the home where I grew up. Of course, next chance I got, I had to pop the film in the old VCR. And, just as before, the film provoked a strong wave of emotions to swell up inside me. Yes, ALittle Princess actually makes me cry. What am I crying for?

For me, the film grasps at longings lodged deep in my heart, and, I believe, in all of our hearts. Longings for love... innocence... generosity without restraints... magic... a return to grandness. Longings that are ignored, or worse, forgotten.

John Eldredge's book The Sacred Romance elaborates on that longing for a return to grandness in particular:

"Yes, we are not what we were meant to be, and we know it... We sense that our real self is ruined, and we fear to be seen. But think for a moment [of]... ancient sites like the Parthenon, the Colosseum, and the Pyramids. Though ravaged by time, the elements, and vandals through the ages, mere shadows of their former glory, these ruins still awe and inspire. Though fallen, their glory cannot be fully extinguished. There is something at once sad and grand about them. And such we are... 'glorious ruins.'"

Eldredge also speaks of our forgetfullness of such glorious quality:

"The fact that we don't see our own glory is part of the tragedy of the Fall; a sort of spiritual amnesia has taken all of us."

An amnesia that Eldredge explains is further compounded by modern culture. He constrasts the Middle Ages with the current Post-Modern Era. Speaking first of living in anno domini, the year of our Lord:

"It wasn't football season, it was Advent. Your role models were the saints, whose feast days were regular reminders of a drama greater than yourself. The architecture of the cathedral, the music, literature, and sculpture all gave you a vision of transcendence, reminding you of the central elements of that great story. Even the everyday language reflected the Christian understanding of life's story, expressions like "God be with you," "upon my soul," and "by Christ's blood." Birht and death, love and loss - all of your personal experiences would be shaped by that larger story.

But you don't live in the Middle Ages, you live in the Post-modern Era. For hundreds of years our culture has been losing its story."

That essence, that ruined essence - ruined but not "fully extinguished" - is the precise essence that called to me when I first watched A Little Princess in my younger childhood. And Eldredge points out that sacred essence continually calls to us through a romance, a Sacred Romance. A romance that is evident "in the golden fall of the Rockies and in the windswept sea grasses and whitecaps of bay and ocean on the Atlantic; in a quiet moment of sunlight orchestrated into parallel rays of warmth on my shoulder as I read a good book; in the eyes of certain women and the strength of certain men; in the joy of my five-year-old son turning cartwheels during a soccer game, oblivious to the demands of winning; and in rare occurrences of kindness, courage, and sacrifice by men and women [known and unknown]... Someone or something has romanced us from the beginning with creek-side singers and pastel sunsets, with the austere majesty of snowcapped mountains and the poignant flames of autumn colors telling us of something - or someone- leaving, with a promise to return. These things can, in an ungaurded moment, bring us to our knees with longing for this something or someone who is lost."

Things like the scene in the A Little Princess where the girl, who went from riches to rags and is holed up in a cold, damp attic... dances in circles with arms thrown up in the gust of snow-frosted wind that abruptly throws open the doors to her musty room. A Little Princess brings me to my knees everytime. As I child, I didn't recognize why I was on my knees. I just simply knew that the film stirred something in me that hurt and felt glorious all at once. Eldredge eloquently explains the extent of my understanding then:

"We find ourselves in a story that is sometimes wonderful, sometimes awful, often a confusing mixture of both, and we haven't the slightest clue how to make sense of it all..."

And though in college I had long forgotten the film, I hadn't forgotten about that deep emotion that can bring you to your knees. Though I can't remember what affecting series of experiences preceded it, I once wrote: "Whether it is a shiver of sadness, horror, or excitement, I know I have found something remarkable when I feel it." What I didn't know was that something remarkable was the Sacred Romance. Those "shivers" of poignant emotion moments when I'm feeling the Sacred Romance.

And Eldredge writes, the Sacred Romance is a part of the grandest fairy tale of them all:

"Frederick Buechner reminds us in his wonderful book Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale, the world of the gospel is the world of fairy tale, with one notable exception:

'It is a world of magic and mystery, of deep darkness and flickering starlight. It is a world whree terrible things happen and wonderful things too. It is a world where goodness is pitted against evil, love against hate, order against chaos, in a great struggle where often it is hard to be sure who belongs to which side because appearances are endlessly deceptive. Yet for all its confusion and wildness, it is a world where the battle goes ultimately to the good, who live happily ever after, and where in the long run everybody, good and evil alike, becomes known by his true name... That is the fairy tale of the Gospel, with, of course, one crucial difference from all other fairy tales, which is that the claim made for it is that it is true, that it not only happened once upon a time but has kept happening ever since and is happening still.'"

How logical it is then, that a fairy tale, A Little Princess, should speak to my heart. What's even more amusing is the fairy tale itself relies on fairy tales to bring its characters through terrible hardship, loss and longing. That very structure in A Little Princess, telling fairy tales to speak of a living fairy tale, is simply modeled after the a book I had grown up with, but have not given nearly enough attention to: the Bible.

Eldredge points out that Elie Wiesel recognized that quality of the Bible and about the role of humanity when he wrote: "God created man because he loves stories."

And as Buechner says, we are a living fary tale. The best news? We've met our prince charming... and it's just a matter of time before our reunion with him and our restoration to the glory we were meant for.

Adventure in the Kitchen

I just wanted to share that two nights ago I was up until two in the morning stuffing rigatoni noodles with ground chicken and herbs. It was fun cooking with my temp roomie and a friend though!

A Simple Compliment...

...can go a long way. One of the latest people to step into my life and enrich it offered me this compliment:

"you are truly a warrior goddess"

I like that description.

Tell It Like It Is

Say it say it say it Tell it like it is
Say it say it say it Tell it like it is

What breaks your heart
What keeps you awake at night
What makes you want to breakdown and cry

But say you'll never turn your back
Say you'll never harden to the world
Say you'll never try to still the rhythms in your breast
Say you'll never look at the evil among us and try to forget
Say you'll tell it like it is

Say it say it say it
So everyone can hear
Say it say it say it tell it like it is

What breaks your hear
What keeps you awake at night
How your anger and grief
Make you want to cry out
And tell it like it is

But say you'll never close your eyes
Or pretend that it's a rosy world
Say you'll never try to paint
What is rotten with a sugarcoat
Say you'll talk about the horrors you've seen and the torment you know
And tell it like it is

Say it say it say it
So no one can forget
Say it say it say it Tell it like it is

What breaks your heart
What keeps you awake at night
What makes you want to break the ties that silence and bind
And tell it like it is

Say you'll never cover your ears and close your mouth
And live in a silent world
Say you'll only run as far or as fast as you need to be secure
Say that then you'll tell the truth
When a lie could cross your lips
And tell it like it is

Say it say it say it, Say it say it say it
Say it say it say it, Say it say it say it
Say it say it say it, Say it say it say it
Say it say it say it, Say it say it say it

~Tracy Chapman

The Promise

If you wait for me
then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart

If you think of me
If you miss me once in awhile
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

If you dream of me
L like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

I've longed for you
A and I have desired
To see your face your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
Please say you'll be waiting

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise
If it's one that you can keep
I vow to come for you
If you wait for me

And say you'll hold
A place for me
I in your heart.

Across the Universe

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass they slip away across the universe.
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru deva om.

Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
and call me on and on across the universe.
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box,
They stumble blindly as they make their way across the universe.
Jai guru deva om.

Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter shades of love are ringing through my open mind,
Inciting and inviting me.
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns,
It calls me on and on across the universe.
Jai guru deva om.

Nothing's gonna change my world (8X)


Jai guru deva,
Jai guru deva,
Jai guru deva,
Jai guru deva...

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

cigarettes and chocolate milk
these are just a couple of my cravings
everything it seems i like's a little bit stronger
a little bit thicker
a little bit harmful for me

if i should buy jellybeans
have to eat them all in just one sitting
everything it seems i like's a little bit sweeter
a little bit fatter
a little bit harmful for me

and then there's those other things
which for several reasons we won't mention
everything about them is a little bit stranger
a little bit harder
a little bit deadly

it isn't very smart
tends to make one part so broken-hearted

sitting here remembering me
always been a shoe made for the city
go ahead, accuse me of just singing about places
with scrappy boys faces
have general run of the town
playing with prodigal songs
takes a lot of sentimental valiums
can't expect the world to be your raggedy andy
while running on empty
you little old doll with a frown

you got to keep in the game
maintaining mystique while facing forward
i suggest a reading of 'a lesson in tightropes'
or 'surfing your high hopes' or 'adios kansas'

it isn't very smart
tends to make one part so broken-hearted

still there's not a show on my back
holes or a friendly intervention
i'm just a little bit heiress, a little bit irish
a little bit tower of pisa whenever i see you
so please be kind if i'm a mess
cigarettes and chocolate milk

Change

If you knew that you would die today,
Saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low you cannot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?

If you knew that you would be alone,
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth
That brings up pain that can't be soothed
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?

Are you so upright you can't be bent?
If it comes to blows are you so sure you won't be crawling?
If not for the good, why risk falling?
Why risk falling?

If everything you think you know,
Makes your life unbearable,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you'd broken every rule and vow,
And hard times come to bring you down,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would die today,
If you saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you saw the face of God and love
If you saw the face of God and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

Mystery of Love

The city gates at twilight
And a red ship sinking
Behind winters grey wall
Ice in the wind
But a fire in the embers
Of my heart
As darkness falls
In a candlelit room
Where your eyes are laughing
Smoking in the red chair
And nothing in the world
'cept the beating of my heart
Against the nerves of the air
And I know there's a light
At the end of a the tunnel
Cos I taste it on your lips
And I feel a weight
That can bend me double
You lift it with your fingertips
So often it happens
That words prove useless
In the face of how it feels
So it as the mystery of love
Keeps growing
The more my heart reveals
Temptations endless whispers
Try to keep it in perspective
So much to distract
Walking on a wire
While your juggling desire
It�s all part of this balancing act
And it gets hard to know
Just what you believe
As the argument rages on
But for all of the talk
Its only true to say
That if you have no hope
There is none
A tangle of tongues
Flesh flowers and thistles
Of conscience, spittle and skin
We can't change the past
So we'll raise this cup to our lips
And drink it all in
And meantime back in civilisation
The rain is cold as steel
But the mystery of love
It just keeps growing
The more my heart reveals
As sure as the rose
The bright day blooms
As surely still it fades
And the night kindles stars
On empty winds
And ghosts along the collonades
And slow but sure
The sands are falling
As the bridge burns
Beneath the wheel
And the mystery of love
It just keeps growing
The more my heart reveals
The more my heart reveals

~ David Gray

Everything

You're a falling star, You're the get away car.
You're the line in the sand when I go too far.
You're the swimming pool, on an August day.
And you're the perfect thing to say.

And you play you're coy, but it's kinda cute.
Ah, When you smile at me you know exactly what you do.
Baby don't pretend, that you don't know it's true.
Cause you can see it when I look at you.

[Chorus:]
And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times
It's you, it's you, You make me sing.
You're every line, you're every word, you're everything.

You're a carousel, you're a wishing well,
And you light me up, when you ring my bell.
You're a mystery, you're from outer space,
You're every minute of my everyday.

And I can't believe, that I'm your man,
And I get to kiss you baby just because I can.
Whatever comes our way, ah we'll see it through,
And you know that's what our love can do.

[Chorus:]
And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times
It's you, it's you, You make me sing
You're every line, you're every word, you're everything.

So, La, La, La, La, La, La, La
So, La, La, La, La, La, La, La

[Chorus:]
And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times
It's you, it's you, You make me sing.
You're every line, you're every word, you're everything.
You're every song, and I sing along.
'Cause you're my everything.
Yeah, yeah

So, La, La, La, La, La, La, La
So, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La

~Michael Buble

All Good Things

Honestly what will become of me
don't like reality
It's way too clear to me
But really life is daily
We are what we don't see
Missed everything daydreaming

[Chorus]
Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to end?
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to an end?

Traveling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I'll stay
Young and restless
Living this way I stress less
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don't cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to end?
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to an end?

Well the dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moon
Hoping it would come soon so that they could
Dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moon
Hoping it would come soon so that they could
Die die die die die

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to end?
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to an end?

Well the dogs were barking at a new moon
Whistling a new tune
Hoping it would come soon
And the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day til the feeling went away
And the sky was falling on the clouds were dropping and
the rain forgot how to bring salvation
the dogs were barking at the new moon
Whistling a new tune
Hoping it would come soon so that they could die.

~Nelly Furtado

thank God

thank God for the look
that spoke of a momentous connection

thank God for the words
that sung of a momentous affection

thank God for the hearts
that drove a momentous intersection

thank God for the desire
that birthed a momentous erection

thank God for the love
that dreamed of a momentous perfection

thank God for the morals
that invoked a momentous reflection

thank God for the faith
that begged for a momentous ressurection

thank God for its paramount inception
thank God for its exquisitly alluring tide
thank God for its critical consumation
thank God for all of it

Five

Five deep breaths
tight, sharp pain in my chest
I don't want it to end
But to continue means to embrace the worst End
and forsake my Saviour

Five soft touches
and I'm within his clutches
I have known no sweeter caress
Only in my dreams will I again find such caress
I cannot forsake my Saviour

Five hungry kisses
that turn to bittersweet reminisces
a forbidden taste of forbidden fruit
We are the Adam and the Eve that ate of this fruit
and I forsake my Saviour

Five fateful infidelities
We say it's love's complexities
But no, love should be pure
And there is too much filth with this love so pure
and I beseech my Saviour