Since I landed in Savannah on August 8, 2010, I've known that my last day of work at the Good Samaritan Clinic was going to be July 15, 2011. It has been one of those dates that seemed like it would never arrive, but last night, as my community members and I sat in anticipation of the final Harry Potter movie to begin, we uncomfortably watched our cell phones change from July 14 to July 15 at midnight.
In 12 hours, I'll be on a plane home. In a week, I'll be on a plane to Los Angeles. In 18 days, I'll be on a plane to Philly. And in four weeks, I'll be heading back to Georgia to begin orientation at Emory.
Time is a very strange thing. For the past few weeks, I've been wishing it away, but today, as I was trying to shove a year's worth of stuff into suitcases, the whole thing just didn't seem real. It probably won't hit me that I'm not going to work at Good Sam or live with Linda, Regina, and Mike again until sometime next week.
Moving forward, I wonder how this year is going to look in hindsight. Will it just be a small blip in my life that I describe as "that year I lived in Savannah"? Will the frustrations I have with certain members of the hospital administration here fade dramatically as time goes on? Will I forget the original expectations I had for my relationship with Mercy this year and simply see it for what it was?
If one thing is certain, it is that I have learned a lot about myself this year. I am more confident in what I want to do with my life, and I have the patients and volunteers from the clinic to thank for that.
I've had several amazing goodbye parties and received many beautiful gifts and notes over the past week. It's hard to imagine my daily life without many of the people I've grown to love here, but I'm also very excited and ready to begin my Master's program.
So I guess this is my last blog entry. Thank you to those of you who read this and who have supported me through the good and bad of my year with Mercy Volunteer Corps!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Las relaciones
I only have five more days of work!!! I'm pretty sure this is the first time that I've ever been extremely excited to have an experience come to an end, but some very bad experiences with the hierarchy of my clinic lately have made me realize I probably couldn't survive more than another week in Savannah.
This week, I have been even more grateful than usual for the positive relationships that have grown out of my year with MVC. My roommates and several volunteers at the clinic have become like a family to me. Even though the structured support for my program did not work out at all, many people here have gone out of their way to be supportive of me in this experience. Furthermore, many of my patients have strengthened me in ways that words truly cannot express (I hate that phrase, but I don't know how else to explain it). Today, as I was literally sobbing after being yelled at during an eye clinic, one of my patients gave me a hug (she thought I was crying because I was going to miss Savannah...but I didn't feel the need to correct her) and said that I shouldn't cry because God was using me to make the world a better place for people. Needless to say, that comment made me cry harder, but in a good way.
I guess this year has reminded me of how inter-personal relationships run our world. Many of us are where we are because of who we know, and it is our interactions with others that help us become who we are. So, to all of you who are actually reading this blog, thank you for being part of my life.
This week, I have been even more grateful than usual for the positive relationships that have grown out of my year with MVC. My roommates and several volunteers at the clinic have become like a family to me. Even though the structured support for my program did not work out at all, many people here have gone out of their way to be supportive of me in this experience. Furthermore, many of my patients have strengthened me in ways that words truly cannot express (I hate that phrase, but I don't know how else to explain it). Today, as I was literally sobbing after being yelled at during an eye clinic, one of my patients gave me a hug (she thought I was crying because I was going to miss Savannah...but I didn't feel the need to correct her) and said that I shouldn't cry because God was using me to make the world a better place for people. Needless to say, that comment made me cry harder, but in a good way.
I guess this year has reminded me of how inter-personal relationships run our world. Many of us are where we are because of who we know, and it is our interactions with others that help us become who we are. So, to all of you who are actually reading this blog, thank you for being part of my life.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
La religión
I just got back from possibly the most ridiculous experience I've had in Savannah. I went to what was advertised as a vigil called "United in Prayer for Immigration Reform" in Port Wentworth, right down the street from my church.
To start, I got there at the actual time it was set to start because I was told there would be lots of groups there and since I didn't know where the building was, I didn't want to be ridiculously late. However, when I arrived, there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot and I was very obviously the only gringa to be found. I'm kind of used to looking like "a beacon of white in a sea of brown" (as I've been described by a friend), but this was the first time in many months where I didn't know any of the Hispanics around me. A nice Colombian man started chatting it up with me as we waited for nearly an hour for other people to arrive.
As I looked around the community gymnasium that we were using, I couldn't help but chuckle. It was completely decorated in red, white, and blue, presumably for the celebration of Independence Day tomorrow. The podium where I assumed our speakers would be had a plaque that said "Port Wentworth, the Stand Up for America City." I even learned that Port Wentworth's team name is the Patriots, and they use the exact same emblem as my favorite football team.
When the service finally started (I don't think I'll ever adjust to Latin time...), it immediately became clear to me that this was going to be more about prayer and less about immigration reform. The opening speaker was yelling into the microphone about the liberation of God's people while a Latino man strummed a guitar behind her and the majority of the audience was standing with their arms raised, mumbling prayers to themselves. Most of the individuals in the small group were holding their bibles and wearing rosary beads. To our left was a small adoration chapel, where one of the 5 people who was there from my parish was reminding people to sign up so as not to "leave the Lord alone." I found it pretty amusing that there was a sign outside the little make-shift chapel that said "Silencio", even though there were microphones and musical instruments set up about 100 yards from the door.
As people were saying their amens and wiping away tears, I was reminded of an article I recently read in my "Reader in Latina Feminist Theology" entitled "Perception Matters: Pentecostal Latinas in Allentown, PA." It seems that many economically poor Hispanics/Latinos are becoming divided in their faith. While some are leaning towards a more leftist theology of liberation, others are joining more conservative religious factions. The article points out that although some people (such as myself) think the latter group is crazy, it attracts many because of its focus on participation in the private sphere of home life and forsaking the private sphere of potential vices.
I used to consider myself a conservative, slightly charismatic Catholic. In high school and even into my first year of college, I loved praise and worship, Eucharistic adoration, daily Mass, etc. My own faith changed for a variety of reasons, but even still, I can understand how easy it is to get wrapped up in the song, dance, and overwhelming feeling of love that a big group of people praising God can yield.
This evening, being in the gymnasium utterly frightened me. After the speaker gave a little testimony, a group called "La Música de Dios" (or something similar) started playing some pretty intense Christian music. As people were becoming captivated, all I could think about was how religion really can become an opiate of the masses. I certainly believe in prayer and in the importance of community, but this was going a bit over-board for me. Maybe people are convinced that if they worship God in a particular way, then they will be spared from things like unjust immigration policies. I don't really know, but that's kind of what it seemed like to me tonight.
I've been struggling with how to define my faith lately. I don't know if I can consider myself Catholic, since I disagree with more tenets than I agree with. I feel like I'm searching for a sense of belonging for my spirituality, yet keep coming up empty-handed. (Funny story: my boss told me in my final evaluation that I need to improve my relationship with God. I wish I could describe how awkward the moment was, since she knows absolutely nothing about my faith life...) All I know, though, is that waves of very fundamentalist Christians scare me and make me uncomfortable in a way that is very rare.
To start, I got there at the actual time it was set to start because I was told there would be lots of groups there and since I didn't know where the building was, I didn't want to be ridiculously late. However, when I arrived, there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot and I was very obviously the only gringa to be found. I'm kind of used to looking like "a beacon of white in a sea of brown" (as I've been described by a friend), but this was the first time in many months where I didn't know any of the Hispanics around me. A nice Colombian man started chatting it up with me as we waited for nearly an hour for other people to arrive.
As I looked around the community gymnasium that we were using, I couldn't help but chuckle. It was completely decorated in red, white, and blue, presumably for the celebration of Independence Day tomorrow. The podium where I assumed our speakers would be had a plaque that said "Port Wentworth, the Stand Up for America City." I even learned that Port Wentworth's team name is the Patriots, and they use the exact same emblem as my favorite football team.
When the service finally started (I don't think I'll ever adjust to Latin time...), it immediately became clear to me that this was going to be more about prayer and less about immigration reform. The opening speaker was yelling into the microphone about the liberation of God's people while a Latino man strummed a guitar behind her and the majority of the audience was standing with their arms raised, mumbling prayers to themselves. Most of the individuals in the small group were holding their bibles and wearing rosary beads. To our left was a small adoration chapel, where one of the 5 people who was there from my parish was reminding people to sign up so as not to "leave the Lord alone." I found it pretty amusing that there was a sign outside the little make-shift chapel that said "Silencio", even though there were microphones and musical instruments set up about 100 yards from the door.
As people were saying their amens and wiping away tears, I was reminded of an article I recently read in my "Reader in Latina Feminist Theology" entitled "Perception Matters: Pentecostal Latinas in Allentown, PA." It seems that many economically poor Hispanics/Latinos are becoming divided in their faith. While some are leaning towards a more leftist theology of liberation, others are joining more conservative religious factions. The article points out that although some people (such as myself) think the latter group is crazy, it attracts many because of its focus on participation in the private sphere of home life and forsaking the private sphere of potential vices.
I used to consider myself a conservative, slightly charismatic Catholic. In high school and even into my first year of college, I loved praise and worship, Eucharistic adoration, daily Mass, etc. My own faith changed for a variety of reasons, but even still, I can understand how easy it is to get wrapped up in the song, dance, and overwhelming feeling of love that a big group of people praising God can yield.
This evening, being in the gymnasium utterly frightened me. After the speaker gave a little testimony, a group called "La Música de Dios" (or something similar) started playing some pretty intense Christian music. As people were becoming captivated, all I could think about was how religion really can become an opiate of the masses. I certainly believe in prayer and in the importance of community, but this was going a bit over-board for me. Maybe people are convinced that if they worship God in a particular way, then they will be spared from things like unjust immigration policies. I don't really know, but that's kind of what it seemed like to me tonight.
I've been struggling with how to define my faith lately. I don't know if I can consider myself Catholic, since I disagree with more tenets than I agree with. I feel like I'm searching for a sense of belonging for my spirituality, yet keep coming up empty-handed. (Funny story: my boss told me in my final evaluation that I need to improve my relationship with God. I wish I could describe how awkward the moment was, since she knows absolutely nothing about my faith life...) All I know, though, is that waves of very fundamentalist Christians scare me and make me uncomfortable in a way that is very rare.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Se fue el mes
I can't believe I didn't blog once during the month of June. It was a pretty crazy couple of weeks, though. I had to go to Gwynedd Valley, PA for the MVC Transition Retreat the second weekend in June, and then the following two weekends I had friends from SJU visiting.
Two weeks from tomorrow, I will be home in Massachusetts. That means that I have 9 days of work left, thanks to the 3-day weekend.
I have been anxiously anticipating today, July 1, since the middle of May when Gov. Deal signed HB 87 into law in Georgia. However, this past Monday, an injunction was placed on the state, blocking the anti-immigrant law from going into effect today.
Everything lately seems very anti-climactic. Maybe it's because I'm exhausted in every sense of the word.
This week I started training the girl who will be replacing me, and I just find myself slowly counting down the moments until I can leave Savannah. I think this is the first time in my life that I'm not trying to fight transition. I feel ready to leave this experience and begin my next one.
Two weeks from tomorrow, I will be home in Massachusetts. That means that I have 9 days of work left, thanks to the 3-day weekend.
I have been anxiously anticipating today, July 1, since the middle of May when Gov. Deal signed HB 87 into law in Georgia. However, this past Monday, an injunction was placed on the state, blocking the anti-immigrant law from going into effect today.
Everything lately seems very anti-climactic. Maybe it's because I'm exhausted in every sense of the word.
This week I started training the girl who will be replacing me, and I just find myself slowly counting down the moments until I can leave Savannah. I think this is the first time in my life that I'm not trying to fight transition. I feel ready to leave this experience and begin my next one.
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