Coming back and going to ... ?

There is a stillness and encroaching sadness in me. As our days since being in Haiti increase in number, I feel further from our friends, further from those experiences, and it has only been a little over a week.

Part of this is compounded by the fact that we're 3,000 miles away from our home base of Philly for the holiday, which is also that many miles further from Haiti and some of the reminders of our time there. Computer access is more spotty, and my cell access is limited now that my charger is resting in our old room in Port-Au-Prince. ;) There is also a general malaise of the day, another factor in my mood perhaps.

How to make Haiti feel close - and with this, how to look forward in tangible ways to what God is moving in us and drawing us towards. I don't even know why I ask "how" anymore. Because I don't think it's a very good question when it comes to matters like these ... Yes Ted and I like to think about ways to continue to be connected to our life in Haiti, but whatever connections remain, wherever growth occurs and new life is born will be a gift of the Spirit. Am I being passive? Am I being pessimistic about what is here because of the tinges of melancholy I am feeling? I don't think so ... I just want to remain in Him. John 15.

Let that continue to be in my eyes and heart the most worthwhile endeavor.

Evelyn.

We all need our heroes, right? I've never felt that I had one or two particular heroes per se - that always seemed like such a loaded title - but, I do think that the church is an amazing source of role models and great inspirations in the faith. I was a given book several years ago called From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya. It is basically a history of missions, a book of role models - hundreds of pages filled with great men and women who served God boldly.

One of my recent role models is a woman at our church, Evelyn. Evelyn is in her eighties, and she has probably lived in this neighborhood the longest of anyone. Hunting Park was originally a German community, which is not surprising because we are direct neighbors to the old city of Germantown. Evelyn is one of the few remaining of the original German population; she is certainly a minority in this predominantly Black and Latino neighborhood. She has stayed all these years, despite the changes that have taken place.

Evelyn walks with the support of a cane. Just a few days after the earthquake in Haiti, she came knocking on our door. We probably live about 5 or 6 blocks from her house, yet she had made it to our street on a cold wintry day, and it turns out she was going door-to-door, collecting donations for Haiti. She came inside, complaining of how tired she felt and how all of this walking made her feel like she was fighting in the Vietnam War (ha :), yet so resolute in the work she was doing. She continued on her way after only a minute or two of reprieve.

Evelyn is amazing. What an inspiration and a challenge.

Neighborhood Clinic.

Ok, I'm not sure where to start with this one. Some of you know that I was experiencing some chest pains these past few weeks. The pain increased on Monday, so I hurried to make a doctor's appointment as soon as I could. I finally found an appointment for today (Thursday) at a clinic that happens to be right in my neighborhood...

The Hunting Park medical clinic is right on the edge of the park itself. I arrived 15 minutes early for my appointment and approached the heavily graffitied building. Strange sign #1 (SS1). After walking through the caged door (SS2) and then the normal door, I found myself in a waiting room. The "pharmacy" was a window on the left, and the patient check-in was about fifty feet in front of me, beyond the seating area. I quickly noticed that the pharmacy, while stocked with some basic over-the-counter drugs, mostly contained corner store items such as soda, a variety of potato chips, and candy (SS3,4,5!) The women at the front counter were nice, though I was a bit alarmed to see the other front office workers eating their lunch of Wendys hamburgers and giant Wendys soft drinks. Is health a real value among the clinical staff here? (SS6)

Because I had never met with this doctor, or been to this clinic, I had the standard patient profile forms to fill out before I could see the PA. I began filling in the blanks and applying my signature where needed - a fairly easy process - when I came to a series of new and unusual questions. Examples:

Do you wear your seat belt while driving?

Do you keep a gun in your home, and if so does it have a safety lock, and is

it out of your children's reach?

Are you in a relationship where your partner hits you?

Are you afraid of your partner?

Do you have a living will? (SS7)

The questions went on, but I am currently forgetting most of them. The clinical staff were certainly surprised to see me there. One of the women at the front desk was having a hard time verifying my insurance by phone - which is not unusual because my insurance provider is fickle and confusing, and fickle (boo). After establishing that I went to school way out in the suburbs, and probably noticing that I didn't quite "belong," she asked "just what part of Philadelphia are you from?" She seemed to perk up when she found out that I live right around the corner on Franklin St.

My insurance provider ended up telling the front desk employee information about my coverage that contradicted the information they gave me on Monday; therefore, I was thoroughly frustrated by the time I entered the examine room. Was this appointment going to be a total wash; on top of that, is it going to cost me way more than my $20 co-pay? The staff worker who escorted me to my room remained in a corner of the hallway for about 10 minutes, playing on her iPhone (SS8).

Alas, the amazing part is that the PA was so incredibly kind and attentive. She was the nicest, sweetest woman ever (whose husband is also studying for his masters in International Development), and she made sure to charge me the lowest fee when I shared with her my concerns regarding my health insurance, even though appointments for chest problems are usually charged the highest rate. "I'll do anything for students," she said. She encouraged me to come see her anytime, and was more than helpful. She also agreed that my chest pains are muscular in nature and not heart-related; she listened to my heart and said that it sounds great.

So, that was my 1 hr. 45 min experience at the neighborhood medical clinic. Granted, the Wendys may have not stuck out to me so much if I hadn't just seen the state of the pharmacy, and if Ted and I had not watched the first half of Food, Inc. last night. But still, that's a lot of SSs, so many that I couldn't not share with you all. Sigh.

Snow Dates & Smoothies

Despite the cold, stormy weather these past few weeks, Mr. Ted and I have still managed to have some creative fun :) Two weeks ago, in order to commemorate our 6 month anniversary , we used a gift card at a great asian fusion restaurant downtown, followed by an excellent afternoon movie. On another morning, after our second huge snow, we shuffled to the Dunkin' Donuts on Fifth Street in our heavy coats and used the last of his gift card to get some tasty, cheap breakfast. (Notice the theme of gift cards. ha!)

So, Dunkin' claims that "America Runs on Dunkin'. However, the OSWALD home now runs on Ted's newest mocha creations and drum roll... smoothies! Yep - we thought we'd give them a try in order to add some fruit to our diet. Turns out that I hate them, and Ted loves them! Hooray for nutrients. Meanwhile, I'm heating a chicken pot pie in the oven... Nutrients can wait till tomorrow :)

Lesson from the Locals

This past week Ted and I had the opportunity to learn something delightful about Philadelphia; and by delightful I mean extremely annoying...

Last Saturday we had the second greatest snowstorm in Philly's history. Yep, twenty-plus inches of snow and it was madness. Yesterday, we got another eighteen inches. In our neighborhood, the row homes are tightly packed (there are sixty-six homes on our one block), and since no one has garage space, parking spots are often hard to find on a day-to-day basis. Well, since digging one's car out of two to three feet of snow is such a chore, people here feel entitled to leave a lawn chair or orange cone in their spot, in order to keep their spot 'reserved' until they return home.

This may not sound so ridiculous, but I came home a few nights ago to find seven empty spots on our street, each with a cone or lawn chair situated right spack-dab in the middle! Seven empty spots, and I couldn't park in any of them. These spots don't actually belong to anyone, so I don't know where the fantasy comes from that you can claim spots that aren't yours! Hmph, it had me in a tizzy for about - 5 minutes. But, I suppose I have no choice except to obey the cones and chairs... :)

Baloney.

A friend in my program is from Burma. He has worked in the development field for at least twenty years, and he is now pursuing his MBA in the U.S. to enhance his skills and better equip himself for starting his own NGO in Burma. His name is Myo.

Myo is very quiet. We had the opportunity to enjoy Thanksgiving Day with him, at the home of my academic advisor Connie. He has a wife and two children back in Burma, and I think the separation, plus the language and cultural barriers here in the U.S., must be difficult for him. But he is such a kind-spirited person.

One day during our three-day residency for our Applied Research course (Jan 14 - 16), I was complaining of being hungry to the classmates at my table. I had packed an unusually light lunch that day and chose to eat it all during morning session (because my breakfast cereal didn't hold me over too well.) Myo must have heard me, because when I turned around to say "hi" to him about five minutes later, he insisted that I take one of his three baloney and cheese sandwiches.

I politely and appreciatively declined, but finally gave in to his persistence. It was a baloney sandwich on white bread, with random dots of cheese. I don't know how the dots got there. I was thinking "wow, poor Myo, unable to find his usual Burmese cuisine here in this foreign land and he must succumb to the worst of processed American food products" or, perhaps this is what happens when a married man is separated from his lovely, capable wife and thrown into a bachelor's lifestyle once again :)

Ted and I tried to get together with Myo for dinner back in December, but the timing didn't work out quite right. We hope to get together with him soon.

On Home.

I really like this city. Will it ever feel like home? I'm not sure. There's always something new and undiscovered, which keeps life here exciting and stimulating - but sometimes exciting is not what you want. Sometimes you just want home. I have Ted, and he feels like home - he is my home. I am so thankful for him. :)

This morning we walked to church in the freezing weather, a thin layer of snow on the ground. I wore my ankle length, pouffy winter coat, and Ted was insulated by about six layers of sweaters, coats, and t-shirts. It was nice, shuffling along while holding Ted's hand and feeling so happy.

So, is there home here? Yes. Though not home in the comfortable, familiar, free, refreshing sense - the sense that I get from that yellow flower on my blog. But, it is good here. And there are the friends and family that God gives us to really support us and remind us of who we are. They give us grounding and so much love, even from afar.