It's easy to get caught up in problems.
I know, firsthand, from nearly twenty-three years on this earth, and especially having spent the last five months in Camden, New Jersey, that it's easy to see what went wrong, or what one does not have, or every problem as a bad problem.
All problems are not bad.
Two Sundays ago, we were blessed with some extra musicians: Kevin, a guitarist, and Janet, a violinist. They are the son and daughter-in-law of the third grade teacher, who helps out at the 12:10 mass on Sunday. Kevin and Janet are also fabulous musicians, each in their own right. However, rehearsal time was minimal, by which I mean that all four of our musicians were together to practice for about 15 minutes. We didn't have time to practice all of the songs.
But we had four fabulous musicians (counting Betsy and Isidro), and I couldn't see past all of the chaos to be grateful for it in the moment.
It's all about perspective.
This year, for me, has been an entire shift in perspective that is still in process, without an end in sight. The idea is simple: I must change what I focus on so that I can be positive in the moment and toward the future. In practice, this is not easy. It completely goes against my fruitless attempts at perfection, or even the adjusted levels of "acceptable" that I continue to revise.
It's about finding joy in the little moments, like tonight at rehearsal. Betsy had accidentally hit Isidro in the face on Sunday with the head of her guitar, and remarking on that, Isidro said that if it had been any worse, "it would have been a gory scene." I laughed, because I was so taken aback by such a funny and wonderfully made sentence.
I am reminded of Thomas Merton, who got me this far: "In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything."
I have also been recently reflecting on the parable of the widow with the two coins. She gives much less than other givers, but she gives all that she has, and that means so much more.
Today, Estela Reyes gave us a bag with several books either in Spanish or both English and Spanish. She is the single mother of four beautiful children, and the Reyes family was one of the first that I was able to meet here in Camden. I teach her son, Jose, piano (insofar as one can do that sort of thing with only minimal piano ability), and Jose, Maria and Jesus are all in the school choir. Estela is one of the people who motivates me most to learn Spanish, because I would love to be able to carry on conversations with her in full sentences. Right now, I speak in broken Spanish, and in her broken English she replies. And so, she gave us these books, knowing my, and my communities, efforts toward learning the language. She was so proud to show them to me, and I was so humbled to be able to accept them from her.
It doesn't seem like much, but it's HUGE.
Last night, I had dinner with Vinny, a man who lives down the street from us. About four or five years ago, he had a stroke that left the left side of his body paralyzed and has relegated him to a wheelchair. He has gained some function back, but he can only use his one hand, and he can't bend his arm. Because of the stroke, he cannot work, and he is as strapped as anyone in this city. Money, for him, is tight.
Last night, Vinny had a friend of his bring him over Popeye's Chicken, and Vinny shared his fried chicken with me. For someone who occasionally doesn't have enough money to eat anything at all, this is a huge deal for him to have Popeye's. It was as though all he had was two coins, and he just gave me one of them.
I am guilty of falling into the trap of "I serve the poor" and "I am such a good person for doing this or that." It is moments like this that show me who really is poor: me. I am so chained to all of my things, to my standard of life, and to what end? Ita Ford, a Maryknoll sister who was martyred in El Salvador, captures what I hope to continue to reflect on far better than I ever could.
“Am I willing to suffer with the people here, the suffering of the powerless? Can I say to my neighbors, ‘I have no solutions to this situation; I don’t know the answers, but I will walk with you, search with you, be with you.’ Can I let myself be evangelized by this opportunity? Can I look at and accept my own poorness as I learn it from the poor ones?”
Can I look at and accept my own poorness as I learn it from the poor ones?
Simple, but not easy.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Please don't stop the music...
Greetings!
This post marks a few milestones:
1. It is my first post of the new year! Happy 2012 everyone!
2. It is my first post in a long time, which is a milestone insofar as I have been able to sit down and get time to write the post.
3. It is the first post where I believe I have figured out how to auto email people that it has been posted. I don't know if it will work, and if it does work, I don't know if it will take more than ten, but I am excited to see. :-)
4. It is the first post where I think that I have a firm idea of what my job description is, or at least one that will make sense to other people.
So, here's what I have been up to:
Music, music, music.
It's funny, I remember saying at the beginning of the year that I would get up only once for 8 am mass, the time that we were presented as volunteers to the parish. I have eaten my words; every Sunday I get up at about 6 am, and head over to the church by 7:30 to rehearse the choir. I am profoundly grateful for my role in working with them; I just wish it was later in the day!
Monday nights, however, are by far my favorite night of the week. It is then that I have rehearsal with Betsy and Isidro, 14 and 11, respectively. They are sister and brother, and the cornerstones of the musical accompaniment to the 12:10 mass. Betsy plays guitar primarily, but she also plays clarinet and alto saxophone. Isidro plays the clarinet primarily, as well as the piano, and the alto saxophone. They played all four Christmas masses in my absence, and have contributed immensely to the music. Their skill and their commitment both amaze and humble me.
(I should say that, as of right now, the 8 am mass is done completely a capella. It's not by choice, but we are doing pretty well, all things considered.)
In addition to Sunday mass, I have been helping with the school children's choir, which sings every Friday morning at 8:30 mass (I think God was getting me extra good with that whole 'I don't want to get up early bit.' He always gets the last laugh.) It is primarily made up of the third grade, because Mrs. Martins, the third grade teacher, is in charge, but we are growing the number of students in other grades little by little. :-) The kids have a hard time focusing. I have a hard time handling that, especially this past month with Mrs. Martins out of town, visiting her family and friends in India. Luckily, my housemate, Alex, stepped right in to help me keep them under control, or as under control as one can get the children. I was VERY excited to see Mrs. Martins this past Friday, her first day back.
My proudest moment this year, in my own estimation, however, was last Wednesday. Here's the background. Jose is a fourth grader at St. Anthony's, and in December, he asked me to teach him to play "Seek Ye First" on the piano. Well, I had to oblige, and then somehow got sucked into also agreeing to give him piano lessons. It evolved further as soon as Jose told his friend, Jakob, about his lessons, and Jakob wanted lessons, too.
Here's the caveat. I don't know how to play the piano, not well enough to teach someone else to play. Jakob and Jose didn't care. So, in my continued efforts to do the most sustainable thing, I decided to teach them together and start with music theory first. I know plenty about that, and they need to learn to read music anyway if they want to play the piano.
Next caveat: Jakob is a big ball of energy. Almost uncontrollable. And so I thought, how can I make this exciting for them? In a stroke of brilliance, I decided to do music theory on the pavement in the parking lot. And that's what we did. We drew our staff and began learning notes. FACE rhymes with SPACE, and Every Good Boy Deserves Fun. And fun did they have. Hopefully this week, some of it will have stuck.
More to come, but for now, please don't stop the music... ;-)
Peace and all good,
Rachel
This post marks a few milestones:
1. It is my first post of the new year! Happy 2012 everyone!
2. It is my first post in a long time, which is a milestone insofar as I have been able to sit down and get time to write the post.
3. It is the first post where I believe I have figured out how to auto email people that it has been posted. I don't know if it will work, and if it does work, I don't know if it will take more than ten, but I am excited to see. :-)
4. It is the first post where I think that I have a firm idea of what my job description is, or at least one that will make sense to other people.
So, here's what I have been up to:
Music, music, music.
It's funny, I remember saying at the beginning of the year that I would get up only once for 8 am mass, the time that we were presented as volunteers to the parish. I have eaten my words; every Sunday I get up at about 6 am, and head over to the church by 7:30 to rehearse the choir. I am profoundly grateful for my role in working with them; I just wish it was later in the day!
Monday nights, however, are by far my favorite night of the week. It is then that I have rehearsal with Betsy and Isidro, 14 and 11, respectively. They are sister and brother, and the cornerstones of the musical accompaniment to the 12:10 mass. Betsy plays guitar primarily, but she also plays clarinet and alto saxophone. Isidro plays the clarinet primarily, as well as the piano, and the alto saxophone. They played all four Christmas masses in my absence, and have contributed immensely to the music. Their skill and their commitment both amaze and humble me.
(I should say that, as of right now, the 8 am mass is done completely a capella. It's not by choice, but we are doing pretty well, all things considered.)
In addition to Sunday mass, I have been helping with the school children's choir, which sings every Friday morning at 8:30 mass (I think God was getting me extra good with that whole 'I don't want to get up early bit.' He always gets the last laugh.) It is primarily made up of the third grade, because Mrs. Martins, the third grade teacher, is in charge, but we are growing the number of students in other grades little by little. :-) The kids have a hard time focusing. I have a hard time handling that, especially this past month with Mrs. Martins out of town, visiting her family and friends in India. Luckily, my housemate, Alex, stepped right in to help me keep them under control, or as under control as one can get the children. I was VERY excited to see Mrs. Martins this past Friday, her first day back.
My proudest moment this year, in my own estimation, however, was last Wednesday. Here's the background. Jose is a fourth grader at St. Anthony's, and in December, he asked me to teach him to play "Seek Ye First" on the piano. Well, I had to oblige, and then somehow got sucked into also agreeing to give him piano lessons. It evolved further as soon as Jose told his friend, Jakob, about his lessons, and Jakob wanted lessons, too.
Here's the caveat. I don't know how to play the piano, not well enough to teach someone else to play. Jakob and Jose didn't care. So, in my continued efforts to do the most sustainable thing, I decided to teach them together and start with music theory first. I know plenty about that, and they need to learn to read music anyway if they want to play the piano.
Next caveat: Jakob is a big ball of energy. Almost uncontrollable. And so I thought, how can I make this exciting for them? In a stroke of brilliance, I decided to do music theory on the pavement in the parking lot. And that's what we did. We drew our staff and began learning notes. FACE rhymes with SPACE, and Every Good Boy Deserves Fun. And fun did they have. Hopefully this week, some of it will have stuck.
More to come, but for now, please don't stop the music... ;-)
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Sunday, December 4, 2011
"I don't get high fives, I get hugs!"
Well, everyone, it's been three months here in Camden, and I can confidently say that if I have it my way, I would love to be here until July 2013, another year beyond my current commitment. This isn't Burger King, though, as my friend Mike told me in the spring, and it remains to be seen if I will get it my way or not. And if God has anything to say about it, who knows if, eight months from now, this will still be my way. Curiouser and curiouser...
I have to say, my blogging has not been terribly faithful. This is a good thing from my end, because it means I am busy and doing well keeping up with all of my commitments here, but it doesn't really help any of you to know what I am doing. I even failed my own personal goal of a post a month. Like I said, from my end, it's a good thing...
The third grade is putting on an Advent pageant this Friday. The kids are so excited - it gives them a chance to shine and have fun, and here at St. Anthony's, I am all about letting the kids shine. I hadn't had time to get involved with the pageant, though, with all of my other commitments, until this past Friday when I accidentally walked in on rehearsal.
There were about five narrators, and each had a few lines before the next would go. Then it would be back to the beginning again. Meilanie, one of the third graders, was a narrator. She has a booming voice, compared to many of her classmates, and especially for a third grader. Each time that it was her turn to speak, she would bound up to the podium and proclaim her lines with the gusto of a seasoned public speaker. It was phenomenal.
Meilanie also happens to look distinctly like Rosalia, one of the children from the Working Boys Center in Ecuador to whom I became rather attached. Every time that I see Meilanie, I am reminded of Rosalia.
When the kids were done with rehearsal, some of them came over to say hello to me, their audience. I give high fives often, because I think it's a good way to connect with them. After giving a few high fives, it was Meilanie's turn, upon which she proclaimed, "I don't get high fives, I get hugs!" Arms around my neck (I had been sitting), she got her hug. That gusto, too, is reminiscent of how I remember Rosalia, who declared that she would be first on the list of names that already had four girls on it. "Estoy primero!"
I have the best job.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
I have to say, my blogging has not been terribly faithful. This is a good thing from my end, because it means I am busy and doing well keeping up with all of my commitments here, but it doesn't really help any of you to know what I am doing. I even failed my own personal goal of a post a month. Like I said, from my end, it's a good thing...
The third grade is putting on an Advent pageant this Friday. The kids are so excited - it gives them a chance to shine and have fun, and here at St. Anthony's, I am all about letting the kids shine. I hadn't had time to get involved with the pageant, though, with all of my other commitments, until this past Friday when I accidentally walked in on rehearsal.
There were about five narrators, and each had a few lines before the next would go. Then it would be back to the beginning again. Meilanie, one of the third graders, was a narrator. She has a booming voice, compared to many of her classmates, and especially for a third grader. Each time that it was her turn to speak, she would bound up to the podium and proclaim her lines with the gusto of a seasoned public speaker. It was phenomenal.
Meilanie also happens to look distinctly like Rosalia, one of the children from the Working Boys Center in Ecuador to whom I became rather attached. Every time that I see Meilanie, I am reminded of Rosalia.
When the kids were done with rehearsal, some of them came over to say hello to me, their audience. I give high fives often, because I think it's a good way to connect with them. After giving a few high fives, it was Meilanie's turn, upon which she proclaimed, "I don't get high fives, I get hugs!" Arms around my neck (I had been sitting), she got her hug. That gusto, too, is reminiscent of how I remember Rosalia, who declared that she would be first on the list of names that already had four girls on it. "Estoy primero!"
I have the best job.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I don't know how it happened...
Hello World! Almost two months into my wonderful year as an FVM in Camden, I am really having a blast. The title, "I don't know how it happened," was sort of my theme for the day, for two reasons:
Reason One: I had a two o'clock appointment in downtown Camden, ten minutes from my house at the diocese. I knew exactly where I was going, and got there with a few minutes to spare. However, I couldn't figure out how to get into the parking lot, which was gated. This was especially frustrating, because I knew there was a way, since cars were in there, and I had parked there before. I went around the block a couple of times, to no avail. The last time, I made a wrong turn, and I ended up on the wrong side of Martin Luther King Boulevard. I wasn't entirely sure where I was, but I knew I was close. Two-thirty rolled around and I pulled out my cell (on speaker phone, of course) and called my housemate Alex.
"Hi Alex - I made it to the diocese okay."
"That's good."
"But then I got lost trying to park the van. I don't know where I am."
Luckily, I eventually realized that I was on the wrong side of the boulevard and hopped on over. I never made it into the parking lot, but I found a free spot on the road and made a botched, but sufficient, parallel park job. Forty minutes late for my appointment, I finally showed up at the diocese. Whew. All I could say to Chris when he got back from Philly was: "I don't know how it happened..."
Later, cooking dinner, I decided to cook the rice in the big pot instead of the rice cooker, because the rice cooker never makes enough rice. Well, I ended up pouring three and a half cups of dry rice into the measuring cup, when I only meant to pour two. I couldn't pour the rice back into the bag because I had used the measuring cup for water before rice. We had a lot of rice for dinner. All I could say was: "I don't know how it happened."
Independent of my continued misadventures, and because of them, I am really enjoying my time here. One of the highlights of my week is teaching Tae Kwon Do to the kids in the after school program, ranging from fifth to eighth grade. They just started learning their first form this week, and they are still getting used to feeling weird when they yell and punch. I remember that feeling, and it's exciting to see them getting over it bit by bit, being more comfortable in their own skin. I love it.
This Sunday at mass, the psalm was a song that the kids sing every week at Friday mass for the psalm, "Because the Lord is my Shepherd." When Isabella, a thrid grader, arrived at mass on Sunday, I asked her to sing it with me from the ambo. To give you some context, the choir is barely seen and hardly heard, and this was part of my continued attempt to improve music at St. Anthony's by making it visible. Isabella was completely competent, but the idea frightened her. I knew she wanted to do it, but there was a lot of stage fright. Fr. Jud, the pastor, gave her a blessing and told her that whatever she chose would be perfectly fine, but that he and God both knew she was certainly capable. Isabella ended up going with me to the front of the church to sing the psalm, and it was fantastic.
Being in Camden is frustrating for many reasons, but one that comes to mind is how much the music ministry lacks. We don't have an accompanist of any sort, and we have a limited music selection, between what the hymnal has and what the parish is capable of singing. I just feel like I am only learning how to minister to St. Anthony's, and not necessarily any sort of transferable music ministry knowledge. Who knows?
In the meantime, I will continue on, loving the people. I feel so much joy here, it's absurd. I know I am right where I am supposed to be, right now.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Reason One: I had a two o'clock appointment in downtown Camden, ten minutes from my house at the diocese. I knew exactly where I was going, and got there with a few minutes to spare. However, I couldn't figure out how to get into the parking lot, which was gated. This was especially frustrating, because I knew there was a way, since cars were in there, and I had parked there before. I went around the block a couple of times, to no avail. The last time, I made a wrong turn, and I ended up on the wrong side of Martin Luther King Boulevard. I wasn't entirely sure where I was, but I knew I was close. Two-thirty rolled around and I pulled out my cell (on speaker phone, of course) and called my housemate Alex.
"Hi Alex - I made it to the diocese okay."
"That's good."
"But then I got lost trying to park the van. I don't know where I am."
Luckily, I eventually realized that I was on the wrong side of the boulevard and hopped on over. I never made it into the parking lot, but I found a free spot on the road and made a botched, but sufficient, parallel park job. Forty minutes late for my appointment, I finally showed up at the diocese. Whew. All I could say to Chris when he got back from Philly was: "I don't know how it happened..."
Later, cooking dinner, I decided to cook the rice in the big pot instead of the rice cooker, because the rice cooker never makes enough rice. Well, I ended up pouring three and a half cups of dry rice into the measuring cup, when I only meant to pour two. I couldn't pour the rice back into the bag because I had used the measuring cup for water before rice. We had a lot of rice for dinner. All I could say was: "I don't know how it happened."
Independent of my continued misadventures, and because of them, I am really enjoying my time here. One of the highlights of my week is teaching Tae Kwon Do to the kids in the after school program, ranging from fifth to eighth grade. They just started learning their first form this week, and they are still getting used to feeling weird when they yell and punch. I remember that feeling, and it's exciting to see them getting over it bit by bit, being more comfortable in their own skin. I love it.
This Sunday at mass, the psalm was a song that the kids sing every week at Friday mass for the psalm, "Because the Lord is my Shepherd." When Isabella, a thrid grader, arrived at mass on Sunday, I asked her to sing it with me from the ambo. To give you some context, the choir is barely seen and hardly heard, and this was part of my continued attempt to improve music at St. Anthony's by making it visible. Isabella was completely competent, but the idea frightened her. I knew she wanted to do it, but there was a lot of stage fright. Fr. Jud, the pastor, gave her a blessing and told her that whatever she chose would be perfectly fine, but that he and God both knew she was certainly capable. Isabella ended up going with me to the front of the church to sing the psalm, and it was fantastic.
Being in Camden is frustrating for many reasons, but one that comes to mind is how much the music ministry lacks. We don't have an accompanist of any sort, and we have a limited music selection, between what the hymnal has and what the parish is capable of singing. I just feel like I am only learning how to minister to St. Anthony's, and not necessarily any sort of transferable music ministry knowledge. Who knows?
In the meantime, I will continue on, loving the people. I feel so much joy here, it's absurd. I know I am right where I am supposed to be, right now.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Saturday, September 24, 2011
God made Miss Rachel :-)
If you have visited this blog before, you say to yourself that the format is different from last time, and you would be right. I changed the background to make it a little easier to read, and I am hoping you, readers, will like it.
On Thursday, I spent the better part of my day in the first grade. I am convinced that they are the loudest first grade ever. My housemate, Chris, tells me that I am exaggerating a little, but I think I am correct. Perhaps it is the size of the class (28), or the fact that they don't have an aide in the classroom and won't for another week, but this group knows how to be loud.
During their religion class, their teacher reminded them of a song they had learned last time, "God made birds and fishes" la la la la. Something like that. Then, she asked everyone to draw four things that God had made. Ricardo finished first, and brought his picture to their teacher, Mrs. Derenzo. I was on the other side of the room, and all of a sudden I heard her say, "God made Miss Rachel!" Ricardo had drawn a stick figure version of me. Later in the class, Leira brought me her drawing, and said that she had to give it to Mrs. Derenzo, who had left to teach another class. It was a card that said, "I love you Mrs. Derenzo." Leave it to the first grade to teach me about unconditional love.
Apart from that, what I continue to reflect on is the idea of "harm reduction," as proposed to me by my housemate, Chris. I can't fix all of the problems in Camden; I might not be able to fix any of the problems in Camden. What I can do, however, is what he calls "harm reduction." Make life better for those whom I serve. I might not be able to change a child's fluency in English, or their home life, or drum up a full choir for mass on Sunday, but I can smile at the first grade, and listen to what they tell me and sing as well as I am able. Realizing that I cannot do everything frees me up to do something, and that is the point, after all.
Do something.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
On Thursday, I spent the better part of my day in the first grade. I am convinced that they are the loudest first grade ever. My housemate, Chris, tells me that I am exaggerating a little, but I think I am correct. Perhaps it is the size of the class (28), or the fact that they don't have an aide in the classroom and won't for another week, but this group knows how to be loud.
During their religion class, their teacher reminded them of a song they had learned last time, "God made birds and fishes" la la la la. Something like that. Then, she asked everyone to draw four things that God had made. Ricardo finished first, and brought his picture to their teacher, Mrs. Derenzo. I was on the other side of the room, and all of a sudden I heard her say, "God made Miss Rachel!" Ricardo had drawn a stick figure version of me. Later in the class, Leira brought me her drawing, and said that she had to give it to Mrs. Derenzo, who had left to teach another class. It was a card that said, "I love you Mrs. Derenzo." Leave it to the first grade to teach me about unconditional love.
Apart from that, what I continue to reflect on is the idea of "harm reduction," as proposed to me by my housemate, Chris. I can't fix all of the problems in Camden; I might not be able to fix any of the problems in Camden. What I can do, however, is what he calls "harm reduction." Make life better for those whom I serve. I might not be able to change a child's fluency in English, or their home life, or drum up a full choir for mass on Sunday, but I can smile at the first grade, and listen to what they tell me and sing as well as I am able. Realizing that I cannot do everything frees me up to do something, and that is the point, after all.
Do something.
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Every day I'm shuffling...
Greetings!
The title of my blog is more than just a song I've been singing, although it has been a song that I am singing. More importantly, it signifies two distinct things:
1. The Francis Shuffle: Chris Posch, ofm, the site supervisor in Wilmington, gave a thrilling talk on opening retreat about "The Francis Shuffle." Basically, what it means is that while it is good to get away from the hassles of everyday life, whether it be in prayer or in physically distancing onself, to truly follow Francis, one mys come back to those daily hassles. Up the metaphorical mountain, and then back down. This will be my task for the entire year.
2. Orientation: My community has literally been shuffling around to the different potential ministries, and while it has been a bit overwhelming, it is also fantastic, in the truest sense of the word. It's like I get to live a fantasy. I'm living the dream, as one of my housemates would say.
For now, I have taken on work in Music Ministry, being present at Francis House (the HIV and AIDS ministry), helping the first grade, and teaching an after school martial arts club. I'm starting to settle into a routine, but life is far from "routine" here in Camden.
The real joy of my entire year lies in all of the people I have been able to meet: my three housemates, the other Franciscan Volunteers in Philly and Wilmington, the Friars, the parishioners, the people who gather at Francis House, the Parish staff and the staff at the school, the first graders. So many wonderful people.
For back to school night in the first grade, we were all coloring pictures of ourselves to put on our desks. I was supervising a special set of skin color crayons with about five students at a time. One of the students asked me what was wrong with my front teeth. I explained to her that I had a stain. "Don't you brush your teeth?" "Yes, but the stain is underneath, so brushing doesn't make it go away." That seemed to satisfy her until I told her that I was finished with my own picture, and she said, "Don't forget to color your dirty teeth!"
To those who have been waiting for something more substantial, I am sorry. This post has been in draft form for a couple of weeks now, and I recently received a friendly reminder that I needed to put it up. I do promise to write more, now that the intro is underway. For now, happy adventures to everyone in cyberspace!
Peace and all good,
Rachel
The title of my blog is more than just a song I've been singing, although it has been a song that I am singing. More importantly, it signifies two distinct things:
1. The Francis Shuffle: Chris Posch, ofm, the site supervisor in Wilmington, gave a thrilling talk on opening retreat about "The Francis Shuffle." Basically, what it means is that while it is good to get away from the hassles of everyday life, whether it be in prayer or in physically distancing onself, to truly follow Francis, one mys come back to those daily hassles. Up the metaphorical mountain, and then back down. This will be my task for the entire year.
2. Orientation: My community has literally been shuffling around to the different potential ministries, and while it has been a bit overwhelming, it is also fantastic, in the truest sense of the word. It's like I get to live a fantasy. I'm living the dream, as one of my housemates would say.
For now, I have taken on work in Music Ministry, being present at Francis House (the HIV and AIDS ministry), helping the first grade, and teaching an after school martial arts club. I'm starting to settle into a routine, but life is far from "routine" here in Camden.
The real joy of my entire year lies in all of the people I have been able to meet: my three housemates, the other Franciscan Volunteers in Philly and Wilmington, the Friars, the parishioners, the people who gather at Francis House, the Parish staff and the staff at the school, the first graders. So many wonderful people.
For back to school night in the first grade, we were all coloring pictures of ourselves to put on our desks. I was supervising a special set of skin color crayons with about five students at a time. One of the students asked me what was wrong with my front teeth. I explained to her that I had a stain. "Don't you brush your teeth?" "Yes, but the stain is underneath, so brushing doesn't make it go away." That seemed to satisfy her until I told her that I was finished with my own picture, and she said, "Don't forget to color your dirty teeth!"
To those who have been waiting for something more substantial, I am sorry. This post has been in draft form for a couple of weeks now, and I recently received a friendly reminder that I needed to put it up. I do promise to write more, now that the intro is underway. For now, happy adventures to everyone in cyberspace!
Peace and all good,
Rachel
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
My "inner Jersey"...
I know a lot of people are asking about my FVM placement. On Friday July 1st, Katie Sullivan, Program Director Extraordinaire, and the friars, got together and placed the current group of us into our respective locations. I've written a nice little ditty (parodied, really), to the tune of "Friday" by Rebecca Black:
That's the scoop. I'm going to Camden. My one friend said, "You can let your inner Jersey out...you can come back orange and with an accent!" Hearing this, my other friend remarked, "I think she means your inner Jersey shore."
While I am fairly certain I don't have an inner Jersey shore, I will hopefully be able to let out some sort of inner Jersey, or at the very least figure out what that means. In any case, I am excited! As Rebecca Black would say, "we we we so excited, we so excited!"
This is probably it for a while - I will be out and about for the rest of the summer, visiting friends and family, and relishing that last bit of free time.
Feel free to send any questions my way! I love hearing from you. :-)
Peace and all good,
Rachel
It’s Friday, Friday,
gonna find out on Friday.
Everybody’s looking forward to their placement, placement.
Friday, Friday,
finding out on Friday.
Everybody’s looking forward to their placement.
Praying and praying for them!
Praying and praying for them!
Fun, fun, fun, fun,
looking forward to their placement.
It's the little things that bring a smile to my face. ;-)
So, I still haven't answered the question...where have I been placed?
And the answer is:
Camden, NJ!
From the FVM website: The Camden Franciscan Volunteer Ministers (FVMs) live and serve in ministries fostered by St. Anthony of Padua, a Franciscan parish. The ministries include: St. Anthony of Padua Elementary School, youth ministry, religious education, Hispanic ministry, immigrant ministry, English as a Second Language, urban ministry, community outreach and organization, and Francis House — a ministry with people living with or affected by HIV.
Camden, NJ!
From the FVM website: The Camden Franciscan Volunteer Ministers (FVMs) live and serve in ministries fostered by St. Anthony of Padua, a Franciscan parish. The ministries include: St. Anthony of Padua Elementary School, youth ministry, religious education, Hispanic ministry, immigrant ministry, English as a Second Language, urban ministry, community outreach and organization, and Francis House — a ministry with people living with or affected by HIV.
That's the scoop. I'm going to Camden. My one friend said, "You can let your inner Jersey out...you can come back orange and with an accent!" Hearing this, my other friend remarked, "I think she means your inner Jersey shore."
While I am fairly certain I don't have an inner Jersey shore, I will hopefully be able to let out some sort of inner Jersey, or at the very least figure out what that means. In any case, I am excited! As Rebecca Black would say, "we we we so excited, we so excited!"
This is probably it for a while - I will be out and about for the rest of the summer, visiting friends and family, and relishing that last bit of free time.
Feel free to send any questions my way! I love hearing from you. :-)
Peace and all good,
Rachel
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