kristaelaine

Dominican Republic - a day from my journal

2010-08-27T06:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting on a little wooden bench, watching the water pour off the tin roof that covers my head. Three chickens are hiding under my bench, sharing my dry spot. The rain hasn't stopped the sun from shining, nor the birds from chattering away in the trees, but it has washed away (for a little while) the smell of the goat pastures that surround the clinic.

In a few minutes, Cheima will call me inside for a lunch of rice and beans and, if I'm lucky, sweet fried plantains. My sunburn from last weekend's surfing lesson has faded and my bajillion mosquito bites have decided to stop itching for a few minutes. In this moment, all is beautiful.

But after lunch, things will go downhill – literally. Kristin and I will be going down the mountain to a village called La Tinajita. It is the poorest village on this mountain, and home to the majority of the malnourished children seen in the clinic. Several days ago, I went with the doctor on a house call to check on the progress of several girls in that village, and the story I heard broke my heart. One of the little girls in the house was once known as Monkey. When the clinic workers first found her she was three, had never learned to walk, and talked very little. Ignored and rarely fed, she sat in the corner, often covered in her own bodily fluids. Several of the clinic volunteers made a deal with her parents that they would come pick her up every morning, feed her, bathe her, care for her, and return her in the evenings. Within 2 weeks, Monkey had learned to walk. When those volunteers had to leave, another family was found to care for her, and another, when that family grew to burdened by her presence.

Eventually, however, rumors started to spread that her father wasn't able to care for his children, and he demanded that she stay at home. Now, the beautiful little girl has lost her nickname, and has learned to walk and talk, but she has very little hope for any kind of future. Our visit to her house was evidence that she is still very rarely fed or bathed. She has gained no weight in over 2 months. Although she should start school next year, chances are, she will be kept home, to keep the house and to care for her younger siblings, the youngest of which is 1 year old and still can not sit upright. Her 3 older sisters and 1 older brother have already started down the path of no education, because school uniforms are expensive, and even when they are free from the clinic, getting 4 children to school every morning takes time, effort, and money. She, like her siblings, will grow up into the same life her parents lead – poverty, substance abuse, abusive relationships, and very little hope.

And that is often the story of growing up in the mountains of Dominican Republic. There are success stories. Two of the girls in the village are currently enrolled in the college in Santiago, and two more will likely get scholarships for next year. There are those who own businesses, or teach in the schools, or drive taxis. There are families with good parents, who are willing to do whatever it takes to help their children succeed. But for the rest, there is no safety net. There is no CPS, no social workers following their cases. On this mountain, the clinic may be the only institution to even know these children exist.

Dark Chocolate

2010-05-26T19:43:00.000-07:00

I love chocolate. (Actually, I have a suspicion that chocolate is one of the triggers for my migraines, so I've liked it less lately, but headaches aside, I still find it delicious.) There are few foods in the world like it. You can put chocolate in cookies, or cake, or ice cream, or muffins. Go to the State Fair in August and you'll discover that chocolate even makes bacon better. Even in its simplest form, one bite of chocolate can make a not-so-good day suddenly seem a little happier.
But chocolate has a dark side. And I'm not talking about Hershey's Special Dark.
Chocolate is made from cocoa beans; you probably already knew that. Cocoa beans grow in hot places; you may have known that, too. Now I'm going to tell you some things you may not have known. The majority of the world's chocolate (I've read estimates between 70 and 90%) is grown in West Africa: Nigeria, Cameroon, Ghana, and Ivory Coast. Major candy companies including Mars, Hershey, and Nestle (considered the "big three" of candy) are supplied by hundreds of cocoa farms in these countries. Often family owned and passed down for generations, the cocoa farmers earn their living by growing, harvesting, and selling the beans that make our delicious treats. Sounds like a heavenly job, doesn't it? Spending all day in a warm tropical place, surrounded by chocolate?
Now, to understand what I'm going to say next, we have to first understand our economic system. When I go to the store, I see lots of candy bars! I like Twix, but I also like Peanut Butter M&M's. So lets say I go into a drug store to buy some chocolate (its been that kind of day), and the Twix is $1.25, but the M&Ms are only $0.50. I'm probably going to buy the M&Ms. In fact, I'd probably buy those fifty cent drops of goodness even if I wasn't in the market for chocolate at the moment, because lets face it, that's a good deal! But tasty as those treats are, I'd pick something else if they were $3.00, wouldn't I? How much is chocolate worth to me?
Chocolate companies understand that. They are businesses. Big businesses. They understand profit margins, and supply/demand curves, and marketing, and price strategy, and all those other things your economics teacher droned on about while your eyes glazed over. To oversimplify all business strategies into a single sentence - sell the finished product at a price people are willing to pay, while paying as little as possible for the raw goods needed to produce it.
Ok, this takes us back to West Africa, where that "little as possible" becomes a cocoa farmer's gross income. In some area's of Ivory Coast, over half the population derives their income from cocoa production. In an already impoverished country, where there is little government support and no such thing as labor laws, the cocoa farmers have few options but to take what the American company offers them for their crop. After all, the farm has been in the family for generations, and the workers have no other skills, education, or opportunities for employment. Cocoa is their life source.
So, to make a decent living wage, the owners of the cocoa farms employ the same economics as the larger companies: sell the finished product at a price people are willing to pay, while paying as little as possible to produce it. This means that to turn the most profit - and I'm not talking major bank here, not fancy cars and diamond rings, just enough to feed their kids, and maybe send them to school - they need to pay their employees as little as possible.
It is estimated that 14,000 children (children!) are currently working for little or no pay in the cocoa farms of Ivory Coast. I read a true story today about an 11 year-old boy who wanted to help his family with their bills so he took a job that advertised $125 a year and a bike to work in a cocoa field. When he showed up for his first day of work, he was told he would be working in a different field - then shipped him hundreds of miles away, where his family couldn't find him. He slept in a concrete building crammed with other boys and fed very little. He worked from sun up to sun down (literally), and if he didn't work hard enough, he was beaten with a bicycle chain. He was never paid.
The cheapest labor the cocoa farmers can get - stolen children. They are easy to get, easy to manipulate and control, and eat very little. They don't know their legal rights. If they get sick or die, they are cheaply replaced, so there is no need to take good care of them. Cocoa produced in these kind of farms is much cheaper than cocoa from a farm that pays adults a fair wage and provides decent working conditions. That means that Hershey, Mars, and Nestle can buy it cheaper, make more profits, and sell it to you cheaper too. These three companies are aware of where their cocoa comes from. They know the conditions of the workers that grow and harvest their product. But they also know that consumers would rather not hear such horror stories and will eat their chocolate in ignorant bliss, while they continue to turn major profits.
There are chocolate companies that are certified fair trade (look for it on the label), which means they are audited by a third party organization and have shown that they pay all workers a fair wage, do not employ children, and provide safe working conditions. None of these things are all that special, it is the MINIMUM of what we would expect from an US company. They are a little more expensive than non-fair trade candies, $2-4 per bar, because their workers are all paid for their work.
So what it comes down to is, what is chocolate worth to you? Is it worth $2? Is it worth the life of a child? Buying fair trade certified chocolate helps a worker make a decent wage so he can feed his family, send his children to school, and support the local economy. Buying chocolate from a company that knowingly supports child-enslavement sends the message to those companies that you don't care if they practice ethical business principles. It also sends a message to a child in West Africa that you value cheap chocolate more than their life.
How much is chocolate worth to you?

Peru

2010-04-25T19:07:00.000-07:00

On June 24th, I will be traveling to Peru with a group of people from my hometown of North Manchester to to be the hands and feet of Jesus in Peru. While we are there, the team will help build an orphanage, share the love of Jesus with the kids on the street, and work along side abolitionists at the Not for Sale Campaign projects.
Because of the extreme poverty in Peru, many children are forced out of their homes around the age of 12. They are expected to live on the streets, working or begging to make enough money to eat. Because these children are so vulnerable, sex traffickers often force them into a life of prostitution.
But there is hope. And our team will be meeting and working with one of the heroes who is bringing hope to the street children. Her name is Lucy Borja. Lucy was directing an HIV/AIDS prevention program in Lima when she began meeting some of the teens on the streets who are faced with daily violence. When Lucy met two young boys who were too frightened to spend another night on the streets, she invited them to sleep in her office in the city. She told them to extend the offer to any other child who shared their fears. Lucy informed the custodian to give entry to any child who arrived at the office that evening.
She was afraid the custodian would turn them away when he saw their raggedy appearance so she decided to go to her office to check in on them that night. When she arrived at the office, her key unlocked the door, but she couldn't seem to push it open. Once she managed to get inside she found out why. Several kids were sleeping on the floor in front of the door. Actually, she counted 600 children sleeping in the office that night, crammed into cabinets and cupboards, piled up on one another. Word had spread on the streets of Lima. Found: A safe shelter from the storm.
Lucy went on to start several safe homes and programs for the street children in Lima. Our team will be helping at some of these. Psalm 10:18 says "You will bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so people can terrify them no more." God has a plan to bring justice to the world-and His plan is us.
As I'm preparing to return to Peru, please keep me and the rest of the team in your prayers.

2010-04-19T23:23:00.001-07:00

http://vimeo.com/10769438

Psalm 147:8

2009-06-20T00:10:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine used to say that he knows God is good because He made eating so enjoyable. I would laugh. Its funny because its true.

God could have just as easily decided to make eating completely routine and lacking in pleasure (or displeasure as is sometimes the case). In fact, He could have designed our bodies to need no source of nutrition at all! He could have made us photosynthesizers, could have allowed our bodies to create our own energy, cold have created our bodies to not even need energy. Eating is only a necessary part of life for humans because God decided it should be that way.

But why? Its not like creating non-eating humans would have taken more time, like self-sufficient humans were the 3G model and he just didn't want to spend the money to upgrade! So why make us reliant on food, and why give us the joy of eating delicious meals? Because its how He teaches us things. We see the contrast between God's power and our non-power when we rely on his manna from heaven. We learn how to crave His Word, to need it and also to love it and revel in it, by comparing it to our daily bread. In creating the natural world, God reveals to us every important lesson. Fact: God was using sermon illustrations before sermons were born.

All of that is a very long introduction. The point: God reminded me of something very important today, and He did so with a storm. "Wow, thats quite a storm!" I thought. "I'd better stay inside, away from windows. Take shelter, get as far from the danger as possible." (alright, I'll admit, there was this crazy little part of me that wanted to go sit in my hammock in the middle of the downpour. but i try not to listen to that part. its little. and crazy.) Storms equal danger. Very real danger. People die in storms; homes are destroyed; the pain that a big storm can cause is very real.

Driving home after the storm subsided, however, I realized something. The grass is so green! The trees that are still standing look proud and strong. The street is strewn with the already dead petals that had been lifelessly hanging from their stems for days, but the flowers that held on through the storm are brighter and happier than ever. The same storm that brings destruction and death also bring rejuvenation and new life!

God did not have to make it this way. Sure, he could have made storms horrible things that only brought pain and suffering. But he also could have made storms light and easy! A little rain for the parched flowers, a light breeze, like the lovely 15 minute mist I always looked forward to on Spring Break in Florida as a kid - a quick way to cool off the heat of the day, and then on with life as if nothing happened.

Instead, God made storms hard, even frightening. They crash in the sky and drown the earth and rattle my windows and echo in my chimney and make my dog hide under the bed (not that he doesn't do that anyway), and then they peal back and reveal something absolutely beautiful. If you've never stood outside right after a storm and smelled the air and made a mental note of how bright the colors of the earth are under the still-grey sky, you can not understand what I mean. But if you have shared in that joyous moment of calm, you know that in that moment, the earth has never been more beautiful, more... right.

So why did God make it this way? Because He is good. He wants us to understand His nature, so He infused it into Nature. He created the physical world to reflect the spiritual world, gave us something we can see and smell and feel to help us understand something much deeper and far more important.

Don't hide from the storms. Dig your roots deep into the soil and prepare yourself, because the storms will come! And guess what. That next storm might actually tear you to pieces. A terrifying thought, no? But what if you just brace yourself, stand tall, and let the rain soak through you? When the clouds lift, you just might be left stronger, healthier, and more beautiful than ever - not in spite of the storm, but because of it.

Father, thank you for your protection today. Thank you for the beauty and strength that has come from this storm. But also, thank you for the storm.

Sundays with the fam

2009-06-05T22:04:00.000-07:00

"I'm so excited for Sunday morning! I love Sunday mornings!"

Jamie said that to me tonight, and we both laughed a little, because we realized how counter-cultural it is. Actually, I said the exact same thing to two girls at work the other night and they looked at me like I had three eyes. "Church? You ENJOY church?! I barely SURVIVE church!"

So I have to wonder a little bit, what is the difference between me and Jamie and these girls at work. Is it the church itself? Or is it more about the heart of the church-goer? Would I feel this same way about Sunday mornings if I called any other church home? Maybe its a combination of the two. I really don't know.

All I know is, I look forward to Sundays! They are like an energy-boost! Seeing so many others who are walking the same walk I am, fighting to be faithful followers (please note the awesome alliteration). Knowing that all of these people are living for Christ in this city gives me so much hope!

I don't mean to say that the music and the message don't inspire me. They do. They intensify my worship, challenge my faith, stir up in me a desire for righteousness. But most Sundays, its the people around me that are the most inspirational.

Last week a man came up to me before service started. I'd met him once, the week before, and to be honest, didn't even remember his name. But he came over, shook my hand, and said, "I want to thank you for the Crazy Love book." He told me about how the book had really spoken to his heart and how excited he was about how God was leading him! What a huge blessing, for this man to share his own inspiration with me! This is the openness of someone who is truly experiencing Jesus!

Another thing I love on Sundays is just watching people interact. We have such a diverse group at IMC, but that never seems to hinder the love our congregation shares for one another. Just last week, watching a young man leave his seat to help an older woman in the congregation carry her breakfast to her table, I had to smile. This is the love Christians are to show one another. This is the Spirit incarnate. We ARE the body of Christ. To see others living that into reality is inspiring, to say the least. I am not always good at loving my neighbor, but my church family reminds me of how beautiful it is to be like Jesus!

God is alive and moving at Indy Metro Church. He is doing crazy things in the hearts of his followers, and inspiring ridiculous acts of love in our city. And I'm pumped about it!

2009-01-21T13:19:00.000-08:00

An excerpt from a blog dated Sept 20, 2007:

"What I've learned so far...

in Introduction to Economics:

Yes, that right. I've learned something in that wretched class. I've learned that life is about scarcity of resources. There is never enough.

not enough sleep

not enough money

not enough time

not enough love

not enough understanding

not enough clarity

not enough discipline

not enough comfort

not enough confidence

not enough faith

not enough passion

not enough organization

not enough of me"

This post went on to explain my Professor's view on economics. He argued that the American way to handle financial problems is to just print more money. We did away with the Gold Standard years ago and have been printing money rampantly ever since. And we see where it has gotten us. When we create more of what we lack, somehow, it just increases our need. Its a snowball effect. My blog continued:

"There is not enough of all these things, but is it possible that having more of these things would not improve my situation? If I were somehow able to manifest passion out of thin air, to just suddenly have more passion... would I have enough? Would more clarity solve my problems? Or would it actually create new problems?

Not that I want less of these things either. By no means am I suggesting that less organization would make my life easier.

However, perhaps the problem has nothing to do with 'having enough.' Maybe the problem rests in seeing things as 'problems.'"

"Not enough" is just a state of mind.

on friends

2009-01-01T09:05:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I was talking with my mom about friends, and she asked me a question that I found peculiar at the time, but have thought about quite a bit since. "Don't your friends get mad when you do things without them?" It seemed to odd to me that I didn't even understand the question at first. "Like, you go to a different church than they do. Or Laura hangs out with people from work that you guys don't know. Don't people get mad?" I thought about it for a bit, but it still seemed odd... Why would they care?

It turns out, not everyone is blessed with friends like mine, who value independence as much as I do. In some friend-groups, you do what the group does, and you do not do what the group does not do - to stray from this norm is an act of rebellion worthy of severe scorn. "Why don't you want to hang out with us?" the friends say. "Have we done something wrong? Do you not enjoy our company? Are you too good to do what we do?"

How ridiculous.

And how fantastic it is to be among friends that allow me to be completely me. A group that values individuality, but doesn't require it.

I spent a few days with my sister in Chicago after Christmas, and while it was enjoyable, it was also a bit stressful. Not because my sister and I have a rocky history, and not because my car got stuck in snow and ice everywhere we went, and not even because I was drenched to the bone within minutes of stepping outside. It was stressful because my sister and her friends put such emphasis on individuality that I felt the need to be... extra unique?

She took me to stores where "individuals" shopped, and to the "good" bars, where everyone listened to only local bands and wore clothing they made themselves. It was like a competition among them to see who could be the most off the wall and out of the norm. In one store, my sister said, "isn't this sweater ugly?! I'm totally getting it!"... and she did.

When I went home for Christmas I hadn't been planning to go to Chicago so I only took enough clothes to get me through the 2 days at my parents house: jeans and a few long sleeved t-shirts. While I sat on her couch in my full-on Gap ensemble, my sister ran in and out of her closet trying on outfit after outfit. I read a book, while she stood in front of the mirror. We went to a few bars in an area of town she didn't know very well, and several of them we walked right out of, without hesitation; they were too... I'm not sure of the word, really. But they were filled with what my sister called, "those kind of people" - that is, well-dressed, well-groomed people. Apparently, we don't associate with those kind of people. I didn't tell her that I think I am one.

Coming home was nice, because I got to be around my own friends, who know me and love me. Who require me to be no one but who I am.

A few nights ago, I realized just how special my posse is. We went for a late dinner at a new restaurant we'd heard about. When the food arrived at our table, a well-dressed man that I assumed to be the house manager was assisting our waitress. He commented, "I like your style. Appetizers, desserts, you name it!" I hadn't even noticed. I had eaten a late lunch, so I just got spinach dip. Laura got a dessert sampler. Leslee got salad and calamari. Ryan had coffee.

And none of us noticed until the manager mentioned it. No one asked, "I think I just want dessert... are you getting food? ok i'll get food too. wait, will someone else get dessert with me?" We just ordered what we each wanted and moved on to the real event of the evening, the "Loaded Questions" cards that Laura had brought along in her purse.

I love my friends.

upon finding myself awake at 4am

2008-12-15T00:56:00.000-08:00

I realized yesterday that I have 3 notebooks in my purse most of the time. The smallest is a pocket sized orange and brown one, used for things like grocery lists, driving directions, and other little notes I feel the need to write. The large blue striped one, titled epic, is a journal that I've had for years and only write in occasionally, when big life changing things happen and I feel the need to document them, or when I have so many thoughts in my head that I need to write them down to figure out what I think or want or feel. Its like a blog, except that you aren't allowed to read it. The third notebook is one I started over a year ago. Its perfectly square and paper-bag brown. The word NOTES is embossed on the front, and I've crossed it out with a pen and written underneath, QUOTES (brilliant things people once said). I think the title is fairly self-explanatory. It is a documentation of the well spoken thoughts of others, some that I know, some that I don't. I love this quotebook more than most of my possessions, and I hope to pass it on to my daughter someday so that she can glean as much from these brilliant minds as I have. And now, a collection of some of my favorite passages in QUOTES.

"Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterwards were nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait." The Hobbit

"Music hijacked worship." Aaron Story

"What if sin's most perverse quality is its ability to masquerade as self-righteousness." Steve DeNeff

"If part of being smart is knowing what you don't know, then part of being holy is knowing what you're not, admitting it, then doing something about it... Even as intelligence is not simply the absence of ignorance but also the presence of a learning spirit, so true holiness is not merely the absence of sin but also the presence of a humble and eager soul." Steve DeNeff

"In the face of overwhelming odds, if you still have a huge desire to move ahead, chances are you have latched onto something divine." Andy Stanley

"While I have no desire to let hypocrites off the hook, it seems that obedience is love's final test, but never its first. Those who back forward - who love God even though they disobey him - will end in obedience, because it is impossible for them to behave for very long in a manner inconsistent with their nature." Steve DeNeff, More Than Forgiveness

"Thought, purpose, logic, industriousness, but without radiance or love... think of it. Isn't that an accurate description of Satan?" William Sullivan

"So much of the time, we ask what we ought to do, but most likely if we aren't doing what we ought, its not because we don't know, its just that we don't want to." Dr. Marti Steussy

"Believe this:

God really loves you

no matter what

God is always good, always for you

God actually forgives you

past, present, future

God wants to be intimately close

to you

All of these things are true,

whether you believe them or not"

"Holiness has but one fear, that of losing the friendship of God." Nicholas of Cusa

"Hope is the inner conviction that there is still a chance, a future, a purpose, a justice to life. It is more that optimism. It is the bedrock belief that our story has a plot, that all of the pain and nonsense in this life will one day converge at the feet of One who can make sense of it all." Who else, but SDeN.

Ok, so that was more than I intended to write, but reading back through all of these, there were so many good ones!!!!! I hope you can get as much from them as I have. :)

I've fallen in love

2008-12-03T05:34:00.001-08:00

Driving to work last night, I turned onto Capitol and had the perfect view of the city skyline. The deep purple sky, the silhouettes of buildings, the twinkley lights. Lovely. I thought, I can't believe I get to look at this view as I drive to work!

Driving home this morning was even better. The white fluffy clouds swam in pink and yellow as the sun rose over the city. Gorgeous. I thought, what a perfect view. How relaxing after a busy night at work!

Indianapolis has stolen my heart.

How unexpected.

My Shelter

2008-11-24T20:44:00.000-08:00

If you have been to Indy Metro in the last several months, you know the premise of the book of Nehemiah pretty well by now - we rehash the story every Sunday. If you haven't been to IMC, and aren't aware, good news. They finished the wall! Despite massive opposition, the people of Jerusalem rebuilt the wall that was once in shambles (and in record time), all because of the leadership of one faithful man and the protection of one faithful God. So that takes us through chapter 6 of the book of Nehemiah... now what? Out of 13 chapters, the wall is less than half of the story!

It turns out this is not a story about a wall, it is a story about a people, who happened to build a wall. Preparing for Sunday morning, the creative team met tonight to discuss chapter 8 and what we might be able to bring to the service. "What is the point of chapter 8?" and we discuss.

"The people are coming together to hear the Word of God, the Law of Moses. They come together to worship and to celebrate." They come together.

They came together. The wall was not just about building this structure around the city, it was about building the people in the city. They came together for a common purpose, and God reunited them and brought them back to Him. Its kind of beautiful.

But driving home, something was still bothering me. The rest of chapter 8: God commands the people to build tents out of olive branches and fig trees and sleep in them for a week. Ok, so I made the connection - the Festival of Ingathering, when the Israelites lived in these kinds of shelters for 7 days and worshiped God to remind them of His protection when they were wandering in the wilderness. "But why now? Why do they need to build a monument to remind them of God's protection... they have the ultimate monument - THE WALL! Its the perfect reminder of God's protection, of what He has helped them accomplish, of what He has done for them and through them. Why are they building something to celebrate building something?"

And then the answer came. "They needed to remember. Not just to remember their history, but to remember that this wall was not God's first act of faithfulness. They needed to remember that God has always protected them, taken care of them. This wall was not the first time. And it will not be the last." The shelters make sense.

And I'm driving. "How comforting to know that God has always taken care of His people. I've always known Him to care for me, but to see that He's done that since the beginning... its so basic, and yet so life-altering!"

And I'm driving. And I drive past a woman on the side of the road. And that thumbs up does not mean she approves of my driving skills. She wants a ride. I don't really even notice her until I'm right beside her, and by then I'm past her. Of course, the guilt kicks in, but its always accompanied by the warning words of my dad. "You could be robbed or shot or raped or left for dead! You don't know who you're picking up! Don't you EVER... etc. etc." And my own words, "Its a bad neighborhood. Its late. I don't even know where she's going."

And then I remember. "The wall was not the first time God took care of His people. It is what God does. It is in His character. If we are faithful and obedient, God will protect us." I turned around. And I'm glad I did.

Thank you Father for the opportunity to practice faithfulness. Forgive me for my doubting and anxious heart. Help me to trust you more fully. And please bless Brooke. She's had a bad night.

"just" semantics?

2008-11-21T02:11:00.000-08:00

"You are cautious with your words," a new friend said to me the other day. It was a profound observation. We had been discussing some heavy stuff and several times I stopped myself mid-sentence to define a word I was using. Not that I was using big, complicated words, and not, by any stretch, that this guy I was talking to was dumb. I defined the words I used carefully because I wanted to be understood precisely. When I talk about "perfection", it is important that he understands what I mean by perfection, because to him that word has a completely different connotation.

Today I was talking with this same guy and I found myself saying, with a touch of exasperation, "Semantics!" The conversation had turned to social justice and he was talking around the topic, choosing his words carefully. And I was annoyed. But isn't this what I was doing just days before? So this evening, I've been thinking about this issue of semantics, of language, of meaning. I'm not sure I've resolved the issue in my head yet, but its 5:30AM and I can't sleep, so I'm going to pour out what I've got so far into my computer and hope the conclusion comes to me before I come to the conclusion. (See how I used that word to mean two different things? words. love 'em.)

In the spirit of semantics, I thought it would be appropriate to look up the meaning of the word semantics (the irony of this didn't actually hit me until just now. go ahead, take a moment to chuckle to yourself... now, moving on). My macbook dictionary widget tells me that semantics is "the branch of linguistics and logic concerned with meaning" and also "the meaning of a word, phrase, sentence, or text". It also uses it in the sentence, "such quibbling over semantics may seem petty stuff." I imagine the authors of this dictionary got a chuckle out of that sentence, since they, of all people, understand the importance of semantics. They probably majored in it in college! Looking further, Webster's dictionary gives us this definition: "the study of meanings; the historical and psychological study and the classification of the changes in the signification of words or forms viewed as factors in linguistic development." It gives whole new light to the idea of saying what you mean... or is it, meaning what you say...?

Our words are wholly important! Seriously powerful! Each and every word we use has meaning, and in most cases, several shades of meaning. Language is not an exact science; it has a human component that must not be overlooked. We understand words through the context of our own experience, and yet we typically assume that everyone around us understands these words in the same way we do. I'm getting a bit metaphysical here, so perhaps its time for an example.

When I say, "God is a perfect Father," what do I mean? Well, I mean to say that the Divine Person that I understand to exist and who I call "God", as a part of his character, possesses the traits of what I would imagine to be a perfect father. I had a friend who would never call God "Father", because his own earthly father was abusive and the word held such distasteful connotation that he refused to use it in reference to God. To this friend, the term "perfect Father" is a contradiction in terms, like calling someone a "loving rapist". The words are so powerfully opposite that the adjective cannot possibly qualify the noun. When talking to this friend, should I instead say, "The Divine Person that I understand to exist and who I call God possesses, as a part of his inherent character, a loving determination to help me succeed in life"? But then, to another person, the words "succeed in life" might be taken to mean "be rich and powerful and famous" where I truly mean "live in a loving, compassionate service to God and his creation, with a full understanding of the grace and love I am given."

I could go on defining the words I'm using all night (or all morning, as it is now 6:06AM). I won't do that. This blog already has too many words, all of them probably inadequate. So I'll move on.

Most words have several denotations, each with individual connotations, and "semantics" is no different. Webster's also defines it as "the language used (as in advertising or political propaganda) to achieve a desired effect on an audience especially through the use of words with novel or dual meanings." This is why I cringed when I called my friend on his careful word choices. It is the difference between using words to say what you mean, and using words to not say what you mean. It is, in short, word abuse.

I wish words were easier. I wish I could just say what I mean, simply, and know that you would understand. I wish I were better at putting my thoughts, my meanings, into exactly the right words so that even the shades of meaning were fully understood. But for now, I'll have to settle for muddling through the sea of words, trying to find the right ones, and often, pausing to define the inadequate words I have.

Wit

2008-11-15T20:40:00.000-08:00

Wit, a play by Margaret Edson, has been one of my favorite plays since I read it years ago, perhaps because it is the perfect collision of my two, sometimes seemingly opposite, worlds: theater and medicine. It is the creative analysis of the scientific world. I've learned in my years of theater that opposition is intriguing. My favorite director has been known to say, "It's not interesting to watch someone act drunk. It IS interesting to watch someone act like a drunk trying to act NOT drunk." It is not interesting or brilliant or creative to watch someone bawl their eyes out, but it is fascinating to watch someone who is utterly broken try to hold themselves together. This is human: to feel one thing, while trying to portray something completely different. And this truth of humanity is wholly fascinating.

So perhaps this is why Wit is so special. In all ways, it acknowledges the opposites in life. It openly admits that we are feeling one thing, but saying another. Throughout the play, Vivian's monologues allow the audience to see the little child (at one point literally) inside her. We see her hurts, hear her private thoughts, share her most intimate memories. And yet, to all other characters in the play, "she is tough." In one scene that, if I'm not mistaken, was actually cut from the movie, Vivian's student gets it. She gets it brilliantly! "Why does he hide behind all this Wit? Why doesn't he just say what he means? If he were really not afraid of anything, he would just say it more simply." She has stumbled upon not only the brilliance of poetry, but of Vivian herself.

Fear can be paralyzing. We, as humans, have a deep, God-given desire to be known. Its why we long for intimate friendships and why we pour ourselves endlessly into relationships of all kinds. Not because we want to know others, but because we want someone to know us, in every sense of the word, and accept it all. But that outpouring of ourselves often leads to deep hurt as well. So we put build fences or walls or chasms between ourselves and the world, longing all the time to be known, but too terrified to allow it. In Vivian's case, and in mine as well, this chasm is called wit. Wit can either mean intelligence or humor, but either applies. Both are defenses, and quite adequate ones, to prevent discovery.

When the student begins to ponder the use of wit as a mask to hide behind, the audience may believe for an instant that Vivian's mask will be shattered as well. Until, of course, Edson uses wit itself to provide for escape. "So far, so good," says Vivian with an all-knowing grin. "But they (undergraduate students that is) can think for themselves only so long before they begin to self-destruct." At this, the girl begins to stumble over her thoughts. She stares at the page of her text-book for a moment, and all is lost. Wit, the ultimate protector, triumphs again, leaving Vivian and I to our reverse isolation, where there is nothing to fear but loneliness. And at least that is expected.