117 kids. 3 communities. 3 days. the Hikkaduwa Salvation Army community center.

Hasitha, CCD's Child Development Officer, organized a 3-day summer camp; we hosted about 100 kids at the community center that also serves as a local church and as our project's base of operations.

The weekend was similar to a previous foster care program, but longer, and with one distinct difference: the children hopped on buses and traveled from the many communities where we're doing housing, livelihood, and community work. Approximately 8 different tsunami relocation communities were represented; it was pretty incredible to see all these children together -- and gave us a strong sense of the lives we have the opportunity to influence through this project.



Pumica (far left, with her mom, and sister) and I became great friends during a community meeting that was conducted entirely in Sinhalese. My ADHD tends to kick in about 30 minutes into these all-day affairs. (ha!) With Pumica's knowledge of English, and my ability to say my name, ask her name, and count in Sinhalese -- we had a blast. I got a fantastic pen tattoo on my hand out of the deal, and she got the longest, dangliest earrings I happened to have in my purse that day. It was fun to see her again, and get to interact with her mom and sister.
We call this "Lunchtime Recreation in the Community Center" - otherwise known as a lunch time drumming / singing / dancing session in the Church. Some of our Salvation Army CCD staff: (L-R) Eranga (CCD Officer in Galle), Anusha (CCD Volunteer in Hikkaduwa, Ruwantha (in back, CCD Officer in Kalutara), Sahara (in blue, CCD Volunteer in Kalutara), and Sisila (HIV/AIDS Officer).
The camp session was much fun. Kids Reach is a local Christian NGO; they brought their whole troop and led all the songs, games, activities, and discussions -- the kids had a blast and adored them. Hasitha did a great job of playing the "bad cop" role and keeping all the kids in line -- corralling 117 kids of different ages from so many different communities was no small task. Kids Reach staff with the kids...

Cute little girls -- the tall "little girl" is actually an adult, and one of the staff from Kids Reach. (Estimating ages is really tricky here!)

Parents were invited also...
I was asked to "teach" the parents' session on Saturday. Which I found highly ironic, since the lady on the far left has TEN children! I really enjoyed it and learned a lot. I was surprised at how interactive the 8 adults were, and how willing to share their ideas and raise questions -- which has not been very common in group meetings. Guess what disciplinary problems they have with their children! Lying, yelling, disrespecting their parents, drinking, drugs, risky sexual behaviors, watching too much television, making poor choices (unhealthy friends, stealing)... hmmm sounds kind of familiar!

Everybody here has seen the movie "Titanic"... so we looked at how kids' behaviors (and adults') are like icebergs. If we only react to what we see above the surface (actions/misbehavior) without paying attention to what's underneath the surface (feelings and thoughts motivating the actions), we miss important aspects of their lives and important information on how best to respond / intervene.

Lima Beans and Forgiveness

The wood paneling came half-way up the wall, where it met our circa-seventies wall-paper: an off-white background with flowers – gold, orange, green, – kind of smallish flowers, in vertical rows, with brown lines. Nearly 20 years ago I was sitting at the dining room table: staring at the wall in front of me, then back to the 12 or so lima beans on my plate, at the wall in front of me, and back to my plate. I’d been there for an eternity or, more likely, probably 20 minutes. Maybe 30, or 45. It felt like days, and this was not a one-time incident... I was convinced my cruel parents were conspiring against me because they wanted me to be miserable.

I was too stubborn to just give in and eat something that I hated; I didn’t care if it was “good for me.” But I respected my parents too much to just leave the beans on my plate and get up from the table. I was torn between wanting things my way (dessert without eating vegetables) and wanting to obey. Eventually I learned tricks: I could hold my nose when I swallowed or smother the vegetables in ketchup and not taste them. I could also hide them in something else on my plate (a little left over meatloaf), show the plate (void of lima beans) for approval, then promptly discard the leftovers (and evidence) in the trash. Or, my personal favorite, put them in my mouth, then wipe my mouth with my napkin and spit them into it (I think I learned that one from my brother).
– – – – – –

Ten years later, I was on a date with Adam. We were at a fantastic Italian restaurant and he about fell off his chair laughing at me as I contorted my face in disgust and took another bite of a dark green leafy salad; it was FULL of antioxidants and reminiscent of leaves straight from a tree in your back yard. Meanwhile, Adam was thoroughly enjoying his pasta, “I don’t understand why you would order something that you know you don’t like; what a waste! Eat something you like!”

“But it’s good for me, and I want to be healthy.”

It’s true: I made it to the age of 28 without eating all my vegetables. And, despite my defiant childhood, I apparently got the message that sometimes we eat un-fun things – because they’re good for us.
– – – – – –

A few weeks ago, I realized that I have lived 28 years without ever having to forgive someone that I really wanted to hate. The “that I really wanted to hate” part is an important qualifier. Because I’ve been in situations where I needed to forgive – and have been able to do so.

Sometimes, forgiveness is manageable because the offense is relatively small. Although I wanted to stay mad to prove a point, it ended up not being worth the mental and emotional energy necessary to stay angry and vengeful at someone that I really liked and cared about.

Other times, I forgave out of sheer convenience. It is inconvenient to hold a grudge against someone with whom we really need to interact every day. Whether it is a spouse, coworker, teacher – avoiding that person, being rude to him/her, and not working together just creates additional difficulty. Furthermore, it can be “unprofessional,” where there is a job to do or a task to complete. So, in order to continue working towards a greater cause, in order to not be irresponsible, we must work respectfully with the offender… reconciliation becomes possible, in light of the bigger picture.

Where friends or family have done hurtful things, forgiveness results because, at the end of the day, we have a history. And history has taught me that this person really loves me. History means I can trust that “unconditional love” motivated the person to be willing to hurt my feelings in order to expose truth, inspire growth, or to improve ultimate well-being. And where their motives were impure and their actions were self-centered, history provides a catalogue of priceless memories and a foundation that concludes, “Our relationship is worth far more than clinging to anger regarding this particular incident.”

The circumstances brewing here for the past several months don’t fit within my very limited exercises in forgiveness. This experience is different from times where I felt hurt by someone I knew, loved, respected, or cared about. It’s a situation where I have been hurt and have watched people be hurt deeply. Not just “oops, that was a thoughtless thing I did” kind of unintentional offenses. People have been taken advantage of and victimized. They’ve been wounded. I’ve been wounded. And the people who were in a position to help the wounded continue to fail miserably, increasingly so. Thus, the cancer grows: no longer angry just at the original offender, I learned that there were more people offending others, plus those who, through inaction or misaction, facilitated (and continue to facilitate) the injuries.

And so, without a friendship or a common history, without a basic appreciation of the instigators and perpetuators, without any signs that they are even remotely remorseful for the hurt caused, without respect for their personal or professional lives, without a bond of some kind, without something – anything – that would serve to make me think that they deserve forgiveness… and without the option for completely avoiding these individuals… I opted out of forgiveness.

It has surprised me – the extent to which I can harbor feelings of fury and resentment, longing not only for justice and retribution, but for flat-out revenge. Like the, I-want-you-to-hurt-bad variety or I-want-your-name-slandered – in-NEON, preferably.

So, refusing to move beyond what they had done; I pitched a tent and camped there. And every time I had to interact with the offenders, I would convey a reminder that their actions were wrong, that I had not forgotten, and that we would NOT be sweeping this under the rug and moving on. Instead, I camped there in their mis-deeds, shooting distress flares into the sky (as often as possible) to notify anyone (who failed to miss the obvious signs) of where exactly I stood on the issues.

Although I don’t remember when I made the decision to hold on to the anger, I have been conscious of its presence for months. The burden was present as I put my feet on the floor to start my day, and it stayed with me. It cropped up in my interactions with others that I wasn’t even mad at. It rapidly morphed from anger into revenge, then hopelessness, flourished into bitterness, and then burgeoned into misery. Despair, is impossible to ignore.

Unfamiliar with the destructive nature that results from carrying around unforgiveness, it took some time to realize that the bitterness and depression eating away at me, the chasm separating me from the Lord – was my own choice to not let go of the wrongs of others.

And then, suspecting that the Lord wanted me to forgive the offenders, the real struggle began. Determined to cling to the truth that what these people had done was wrong and they need to “pay” for it, I did what I imagine most would do when they feel that the Lord is ignoring someone else’s wrong, or that He’s not protecting or defending as He should, or that He’s not living up to His promises, His word, or His character… I added the Lord to my list of offenders. Meanwhile, I worked really hard to convince myself that I liked being angry – and I’m sure part of me did. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel more right, or more vindicated, I felt more miserable.

Eventually, I asked the Lord what He wanted me to do. Through scriptures, books, prayer time, teachings from our pastor in the US, the counsel of wise friends, Spiderman 3 (I’m not kidding!) and Truth impressed on my heart, the Lord said He wanted me to forgive. “I don’t want to and I don’t even know how to. I can’t.” This was half true; what I left out was my feeling, “They don’t deserve it.” The response I heard spoke to what I had left un-uttered: “Neither did you.” Along with a firm reminder that Jesus hung on the cross for my sins so that I could be forgiven, before I was born, without my having done anything “deserving” of Salvation. “It’s obvious, through your misery, that this decision to be angry is not working. You CAN forgive them, out of the forgiveness I gave you. So, is it that you CAN’T or you WON’T?”

What’s amazing is that, in addition to all the truths that confirmed that forgiveness was what the Lord wanted, there was an additional clarification…
– – – – – –
Forgiveness compares to eating vegetables. They’re not fun to eat; I’m never enticed by the thought of devouring a plate of vegetables. I prefer chocolate and peanut butter and Crispy Cream donuts. Vices aside, invariably, after eating vegetables, my body feels better. And my body responds really well to nutrients – improved functioning, more energy, clarity of thought, decreased headaches. Vegetables provide nutrients that even equip my body to fight off illnesses and diseases that can kill me (kind of like unforgiveness, apparently)… from the inside out.

My knowledge of the benefits of vegetables does not change the fact that I sometimes eat terribly because I like the taste of those terrible foods or because it is sometimes more convenient to eat junk. Just last week I had a Snickers for lunch, followed by a piece of cake for dessert. Interesting how I like the immediate sensations; but it’s not really fulfilling, and it makes my body feel like trash. Eventually, I start to show outward signs… the evidence that I’m consuming unwholesome food is confirmed by my increasing pants size.

I also think that some of those other times I forgave people were nothing more than tricks for making my lima beans disappear, so I could go do what I wanted.

I have never had cause to forgive just for the sake of forgiving, just because it’s good and right. In the past, I forgave because it served my best interest – I wanted to get down from the table and play and it wasn’t worth wasting the whole night at the table. Or I wanted what would only come after I forgave: I had to finish my vegetables first if I wanted to eat dessert. Or I forgave because I could cover it in ketchup, ignoring the harsh realities of the lima bean taste and texture.

There are times in my life where I have thought the Lord’s standards for our behavior (“Eat your vegetables.”) were punctuated with, “Because I said so.” Other times, it seems that the Lord sets standards that are motivated out of love and consideration for others. Despite my best wrestling, arguing, and avoidance tactics, I am certain that the Lord is setting forgiveness and unconditional love – including praying for my enemies and the whole nine yards – as the standard. Man, has that ever been hard to swallow! I have thought that perhaps the Lord, like my parents, was conspiring against me to make me miserable.

And while my forgiveness is to be selfless, I also feel the Lord saying, “Mindy, I want you to forgive – really forgive and love unconditionally – despite the fact that what was done was wrong. Not just because I said so, but because it’s GOOD for YOU.”

Not “good for you,” as in, “you’ll get dessert when you do this,” or because forgiveness is a great manipulation tactic for getting what I want. But GOOD FOR YOU, as in “I know it’s hard to swallow, but this will give you what you need for Life.” (And, furthermore, “We can stay here as long as it takes. I’m doing this because I love you and I want you to be healthy.”)

I’ve concluded that forgiving others (at age 28) compares with having to eat my vegetables (age 5-15). And I have the same dining room table choices! 1) The spit-it-in-the-napkin DECEPTION trick, 2) The leave-the-table-and-accept-the-consequences; at-least-I-don’t-have-to-eat-the-lima-beans AVOIDANCE option. or 3) The hold-your-nose-and-swallow / do-whatever-it-takes-to-be-OBEDIENT option. Neither task is necessarily pleasurable; in fact, both can be incredibly difficult. Painfully so. It strikes me as interesting that my parents never force-fed vegetables to me, and the Lord hasn’t forced me to choose forgiveness.

So, I sit staring at a plate full of lima bean forgiveness, wanting to choose obedience and praying for grace to accept and endure what is NOT ENJOYABLE, in order to ultimately enjoy real Life.

[Sidenote: There is a phenomenal sermon by Steve DeNeff at College Wesleyan Church, that indirectly addresses these matters called “The Midnight Hour” (date: 8/12/07). It’s available as an I-Tunes podcast, or you can go to their website www.collegewes.com – I’d say that it’s one of the most powerful, needed messages I’ve ever heard.]

Disclaimer:
In no way am I belittling the woman in the following story. She knows more English, than I do Sinhalese. In fact, I found this government office very cooperative and willing to help. This is just an amusing tale of the struggles we face with the language barrier.

I visited a local D.S. office a few weeks ago and had an interesting conversation. I would like to recap the highlights. - D.S. would be the equivalent of a mayor in the states.

Adam: Good morning!

DS: Good morning.

Adam: My name Adam Pierce, and I am with the Salvation Army. I wanted to discuss our interest in pursuing a project in your division. Last week, some beneficiaries approached us and requested a community center in their village. This is the village ( I hand her a site plan and she nods). Do you have any plans of putting a community center in this location?

DS: No.

Adam: You don’t have any plans for community center?

DS: No

Adam: Or no, you don’t want a facility here?

DS: No.

Adam: So, you don’t want a community center?

DS: Right.

Adam: Why don’t you want a community center? Is there something more important?

DS: Yes, very essential.

Adam: Very essential to have one or not to have one?

DS: Right.

Adam: That was a question. Yes, you do want a community center or no, you do not want one?

DS: Yes.

Adam: Yes, you want a community center?

DS: Right

Adam: I thought you said...umm, never mind...Great! In order for The Salvation Army to proceed I have to have a letter from your office allocating the specific site and then reserving that site for The Salvation Army.

DS: You are asking for a letter from us requesting that you build....

Adam: No, I am asking a letter of permission from your office to pursue the construction of a community facility in this village.

D.S. Right.

-I then take one of their field officers out to look at the site and determine the most suitable spot for a community center. Three spots were “available”. One had rocks on it the size of a house, the other had playground equipment on it and was too close to a marsh, and the final plot consisted of us sharing the ground with a shrine of the lord buddha. With only one option, that being the sharing with lord buddha...I drafted a letter of intent and took it back to the D.S. This is where our conversation picks up the next day.

Adam: Hello, I visited the site yesterday and we concluded on this location. (She takes the site plan reviews and then says)

DS: What about these spots (she points at the other undesignated areas on the plan)?

Adam: One is marshy land, it is the lowest elevation of the site and is prone to flooding...the other site is covered with rocks...big rocks.

DS: Are you sure?

Adam: Yes, the rocks are as big as this office. Too costly to clear the land.

DS: But this site is far away.

Adam: Far away from what?

DS: From the entrance and the houses.

Adam: (I repeated my earlier descriptions of the plots and then said) If you move the community center to this side (away from lord buddha to the site with the rocks), then it is far away from these houses (the two plots in question were at exact opposite ends of the village). The site I am requesting is the one the community requested.

DS: Will this facility interfere with the lord buddha?

Adam: I certainly hope not.

DS: Ok (head bobble)

I believe at this point she had conceded to the idea and we discussed some of the details of the building. We then set a time in which I would hear back from her office with the letter granting permission to proceed (I then took that date and added 20% to it for the real date in which I would receive the letter).

SHADEY (not Sadie). Rip - was the pup that adopted us, well, actually before Adam and I even got here. We knew he had a "real" home a little ways up the street, but he seemed to like it here. Then, one day, he turned up with a bright red collar -- which we understood to mean: "this dog has an owner." So the boys said no more feeding the dog, and we couldn't let him in the yard again. He also was bringing his very pregnant girlfriend/sister around and I think the boys did not want to be responsible for raising pups.

Not long after, someone dropped a puppy off at the community center. She was cute. But keep sneaking into the center and "going potty" in the church. That did not go over real well. So, the local staff were going to do what you do with dogs that you don't want -- take her to the biggest local town and drop her off so she would die from disease, starvation, or getting run over.

Mindy was fundamentally not okay with that. So the dog came to the team house.

It was soon discovered that the dog was not only scratching because she had flees. She also had mange, which would need to be treated, or we could all possibly wind up with mites burrowing under our skin as well.

The long story short is that they don't treat mange here. And they look at people who ask about treating mange like they just asked for directions to the moon. So, we looked a number of places -- the vet, the ayurvedic clinic, the pharmacy, the grocery store. Mindy got online and started looking up home remedies, which all required ingredients not available in a developing country. We eventually received word from a vet at home that coating the dog in motor oil, and leaving it on for a week, would do the trick.

So, we gave the dog a motor oil bath. Covered her in it. Which she promptly licked off. We figured that probably wasn't really good for her -- nor would it effectively kill the mange. So we tried again. Realizing that we would need one of those "cones" that dogs get after they've had surgery so they don't pull their stitches out or aggravate the wound.

Again - we live in a developing country. So, Dave and a I fashioned a bright yellow empty ice cream bucket for our new puppy to wear as an anti-licking device. (see below)

She was pitiful for a good hour. Running into things and whatnot, but eventually she adjusted to it.
We reapplied the oil daily for 10 days... to make sure that the mites were staying smothered. The FUNNIEST part of the whole equation is that we were very intentional in how we explained this whole ordeal to the housekeeper. And THOUGHT we were clearly understood. The other funny thing is the fact that we have neighbors. And because we're foreigners, there is already extra curiosity about every thing we do, anyway. So, of course, the neighbors stopped Phyllis one day and asked her, as you might imagine, why we forced our dog to wear a yellow bucket on its head. At this point in Phyllis's recounting of the conversation -- Mindy was quite proud of the fact that she had taken the time to explain the whole thing so clearly to Phyllis, even demonstrating with hand motions, etc. how the little mites burrow under the skin and it's very uncomfortable, and how you have to kill them, etc. So, we all nearly fell off our chairs when Phyllis relayed how she had told the neighbors that our dog was wearing a bucket on her head so that she wouldn't escape underneath the gate.

The good news is: it worked. The mange is gone. Shadey is now bucket-free and happily annihilating any shoe left within reach. And the neighbors have not (to our knowledge) reported us to the authorities for animal abuse.