Bangladesh: Refreshed

The drive to the Nampa area is familiar ground. I know the places to stop for gas and snacks, and I've got a pretty good idea where the various rest areas are in between. As I made the drive recently yet again, I was thankful yet again for not just cars and freeways, but rest areas, too. Those are things I've grown up knowing, and it is tempting to take them for granted.

While traveling in Bangladesh earlier this year, we didn't have those luxuries, but we were offered hospitality by wonderful people who welcomed us and helped us to feel at ease in their country.

Driving back to Dhaka after about a week of travel, several of us were nearing time when we would need to stop. We mentioned this to the local minister accompanying us that day, and he called ahead to one of the CDCs we had visited earlier. They would welcome us to use their latrines.

When we arrived, I was still thinking like an American, I suppose -- stop the van, jump out, return quickly, and be on our way again. But this was not the long-distance-travel rest stop I've grown accustomed to. Several of those serving in the CDC stopped what they were doing to come and greet us at the gate, to welcome us into their space and spend time with us as we waited for everyone to finish.

Then, as we stood there, they offered us tea! "It is a long trip; you need to be refreshed." We were on a schedule; they respected us by acknowledging the time and offering a stand-up tea time in the courtyard rather than a seated one inside. Invitation accepted, the men carried out a large table while several women brought out the delicate china with hot tea and sugar. We all sipped the now-familiar tea as we shared stories together. Those were moments marked by laughter, smiles, and a genuine sense of presence, and I was refreshed indeed.

I remain quite grateful for public rest stops on the long stretches between developed areas in my own country. And I am newly grateful, too, for the generous spirit of hospitality I saw displayed so beautifully on that day in Bangladesh. As one experience symbolic of so many others, too, that "rest stop" is one of my favorite memories from that trip.

Seeing the Obvious

I was sitting in the Salt Lake airport a few years back, working on something-or other while waiting for a flight to somewhere-or-other, when someone standing by the window made one of those surprised noises and a group of people moved quickly to join him. It wasn't immediately clear what they saw, but whatever it was, they were clearly excited about it.

What was going on? Was there a problem? I paused my work to watch and listen for clues. I learned this was a bunch of optometrists in town for a conference, and they were looking at the mountains -- the same mountains that have been standing strong and beautiful in that spot for many, many years; the same mountains that I had taken for granted and learned to ignore.

I looked beyond the group and beyond the windows to the mountains in the distance. They really are beautiful.

Sometimes it takes someone coming in fresh to "fix" my vision so I can see what has been there all along.

Feeling Random

NaBloPoMo didn't quite work out in October, but I still like the idea for similar reasons, and am trying again. So I've sat down to write today... how many times? I've lost track. But my mind has been other places, meandering through lands where words don't line up in orderly sentences, and even fragments scatter at the slightest breeze. In this land, I appreciate the limits and structure of Haiku:

Sun rises, sun sets
Mountains, valleys, tunnels, plains
Landscape of my soul

Delight in Surprise

'Tis the season for giving thanks, and here's another: I love a really good flash mob.

It's like the healthy twin brother of crime shows, because here's the usual plot -- people are going through everyday life in some common, crowded place when something a little different happens, interrupting the usual-business-of-life stuff. It might be a single instrumentalist, a computer error message, a spill, or even just sudden stillness. Folks nearby are usually the first to notice, of course, and the effect spreads as bystanders become aware that the ordinary-looking people around them are not ordinary at all, and the often-faceless mass of the crowd suddenly takes on its humanity again as those who had been preparing for those moments inject surprise and delight into an otherwise-ordinary day, and the bystanders enjoy the experience, some even joining in with dancing or singing a familiar song. It's like a veil is lifted and something beautiful revealed. And then, often within just minutes, the assembled crowd begins to disperse, returning back to their usual-business-of-life activities -- but changed, even if just a little, by that glimpse of often-hidden beauty in the midst of the ordinary.

Unhindered Gratitude

At a denominational event several years ago, a woman I'd never met saw my nametag, approached, spoke my name, and hugged me tight. Then, through tears, she explained -- it was my name that drew her, because someone with my family name had shared faith and love with someone in her family or other such connection, and she wanted to say "thank you."

I embraced her in those unexpected and precious moments. The name wasn't even mine until I married into it. I had no part in the story she told. And, best I can tell, she was talking about something that happened nearly one hundred years ago. But the expression of her gratitude was not going to be hindered by such details.

As I remember that brief experience, I find myself shaped by it still, and am reminded:

• Be grateful. Gratitude is recognition of a gift as a gift -- something given not from obligation, but springing from good will. Cultivating genuine gratitude combats entitlement and pride, and instead brings about joyful humility.

• Leave a legacy. This woman's story is not just her own; it has the imprints of so many more throughout the years -- a few she knows, many she doesn't. A kindness shown a hundred years ago continues to matter in many lives, including now in my own.

• Remember the story. The story she told me on that day must have been told many times before, passed on from generation to generation as loved ones have talked together about the people and events who have been important to them. Even awesome stories are easily lost without such telling -- and that is a great loss indeed.

• Rejoice together. "Joy shared is joy multiplied." When she shared her story with even me as a stranger, she gave expression to her joy. And when I heard it, her joy was contagious. Even now, over three years later, I smile at the memory.

November 1

I woke early this morning and went to write as I watch the sun rise over the mountains. It is the start of a new day, a new month. I am grateful yet again for time.

I've seen more sunrises in recent weeks, usually from my office or living room. I had already known intellectually about the tilt of the earth, its rotation through the day and revolution through the year. It's different, though, to wake each morning and experience the sun having meandered further down the mountain range, another reminder of both change and consistency.

Looking back, I'd planned to post daily for a month, then didn't. There is still merit to the idea; I'll try again, symbolic of and grateful for fresh starts.

750words

I have been intrigued this morning by the idea of 750words.com. The writing process is significant, a means of discovery cultivated by formation of words. First for myself, occasionally also for others, it helps bring clarity to what I think, feel, believe, hope. I want to become more fluent with such words and, as with spoken language, development of fluency requires practice.

So the writing part is obvious, but why 750words.com?

First, the format. Incomplete little notes are scattered about my world -- grocery lists, people to call, tasks to complete, quotes, sprouted ideas, barely-planted seeds of ideas, metaphors, and more. I like the thought of writing "to think out loud without having to worry about half-formed ideas, random tangents, private stuff, and all the other things in our heads that we often filter out" before putting them to words. While I'll surely keep jotting random notes, a quick morning writing exercise may help to sort and sift thoughts, or at least store them more searchably for later.

Starting Small:
the Egg

Second, the badges. While not convinced that I'll do the 750words thing for an extended time, I do intend to use it as a means of developing ideas and language. Sometimes writing is easy, other times not so much. Badges are a goofy little way to mark achievement of goals, adding fun to the process. I've named three to pursue: the Flamingo of Consistency, the Hamster of Focus, and the Early Rooster of Discipline.

Finally, the analysis. Seriously -- check out the site creator's page of graphs and various other tidbits. I love this stuff! Participants' writings are automatically analyzed, too, more like this. The mix of subjective experience and objective analysis is fascinating. The reliably quantitative parts are seasoned with qualitative estimates which may not be accurate but serve rather as interesting thoughts to ponder.

Yeah. Even if it's just for ten days, I like this idea.

Bangladesh: CDCs

I've always been intrigued by the theory of child sponsorship programs that help care for children in need through food, clothing, education, etc. It's a great idea, and in terms of strategically applied compassion -- that is, going beyond feeling sympathetic and doing something truly useful to meet genuine needs -- such programs have a lot of potential.

I've wondered, though -- what are they really like? Is the implementation truly strategic? Genuinely compassionate? Do such centers actually bring to fruition what the literature promises?

Mark and I traveled to Bangladesh earlier this year with a handful of others. While there, we had opportunity to visit several Child Development Centers (CDCs) supported through Nazarene Compassionate Ministries (NCM) -- playing with the children, hearing stories of the country and villages and families and individuals, eating and singing together. We had lots of opportunities along the way to talk with a number of program leaders, too, to ask lots of questions and discover what kinds of things they think about as they develop the various programs.

It was amazing!

Tahmina speaks Bengali fluently

These are a few of the sponsored children.
They are learning English, and doing very well!

I tried really, really hard to learn to count to 10 in Bengali.
The kids tried really, really hard to teach me.
Still can't do it, but we had fun.

These CDCs provide children with five meals each week. It's not just food for the days; they study and work to provide nutrients often missing in the children's diets, and teach the families how they can do this, too, using inexpensive, locally available products. This is helping to improve the overall health of entire villages.

Food Security Program

Preparing food for many

Families of many of the children cannot afford basic school supplies, and even young children are often put to work earning money for their families. CDCs provide education to those who otherwise would be unlikely to receive one, including social, spiritual, and cultural activities. This helps not just with their immediate needs but also gives them tools to help their families, their villages, and ultimately their country for many years to come.

Uniformed school children. The school prepared a special
program for us, with dancing, singing, recitations, etc.

School books

The young woman in red performed one of the cultural dances

School children gathered

Some lessons are expressed quite well through visuals!

Music is important in the culture and education

The school children were very attentive...

... and enthusiastic :)

Play equipment

Caring for the physical health of the children is woven through the programs, including stuff like sanitary latrines, sanitation education (e.g., use of latrines, hand washing, etc.), tube wells, medical check-ups, frequent treatment of intestinal parasites (a significant cause of childhood death there), and more.

The well next to one of the schools

Sanitation matters. Even simple latrines save lives.

The programs are run by Bengali people. They know their culture ,
working within it and through it. Here, two actors put on a play to teach
sanitation and other health-related topics in the center of a village.
Advertising not necessary -- when things like this start, people show up.

Music added to the draw and to the teaching

The gathered crowd seemed to enjoy the program

The children are protected, nurtured, sheltered. And beyond all that, they are given love and affection, new experiences, praise and recognition, a sense of belonging, and more. My favorite part of the whole trip -- which is saying something, because I loved it all and was quite impressed by how the programs provide for educational, physical, social, and spiritual needs -- was seeing the leaders' fierce love for the children, and the children's fondness for the leaders.

And there is so, so much more.

It was an incredible experience to see the Child Development Centers in action, not just appreciate the idea in theory. They are created strategically for effectiveness and sustainability, coordinated and run by passionate and gifted Bengali leaders who know their culture and love their people. They're doing great work and doing it in sustainable ways. The world will never be the same. These child sponsorship programs are a phenomenal investment.