Love is Not a Game

Ah. Valentine's Day! For me, everyday is Valentine's Day, just like every day is Thanksgiving. My life is nothing if not for being thankful and full of love every day; that's just the way it is since I left every person I loved, everything that made me feel safe and comfortable, and everything known and understandable to go to the other side of the globe...and even beneath the equator. I have no room to take anything, and I do mean anything, for granted.

The history of Valentine's Day is murky, at best, but based on a compilation of some things I've read, one common theme is that a priest went against the order of a Roman emperor and married couples. He was sentenced to death. His name? Valentine.

Valentine's Day is a lovely time to demonstrate appreciation for the one you love. It's a great time to show appreciation for anybody, platonic friends, as well. As we tend to celebrate now, Valentine's Day is a celebration of love.

Sometimes, however, showing love and appreciation threatens the status quo, can seem shameful, or is even dangerous. Saint Valentine is a reminder of that. It is in that spirit that I continue to write on Valentine's Day.

Two years ago, a handwritten Valentine I wrote was xeroxed and sent all over Indonesia. The intention, I believe, was to shame the recipient, as well as me. Neither of us found out that this had happened until months afterwards. The note had been taken or stolen, whichever word you prefer, and was only recovered again last summer. This post is not about the note or anything related to its origins or even why it was widely (it seems) distributed, but about the options we had, the recipient and I, to respond to the love it professed.

There were two main options. The first, to pretend as if it was nothing. Lie. Pretend. A game. Silliness. That would have saved face and made people comfortable; temporarily, at least. The second would have been as simple and as dishonest. I could have gone back to the US; I was only playing, got in trouble, so I pick up my toys and go home.

The problem is that those two options would either justify a very nasty cultural norm or reinforce a very nasty stereotype.

The cultural norm is objectification. By pretending that it was just a silly game, an unimportant fling, or just for fun, that would not only reflect serious self-centered behavior, bravado, and a lack of compassion, but would also reiterate the belief that we should use other people and get what we want/need from them. "Just for fun" excuses the objectification of another person as a mere plaything, a diversion, a toy.

The second is based on privilege. Many people who visit another country, even to live and/or work, know that they can always leave whenever the fun stops. When they no longer get what they want, times get tough, they're no longer having fun, or are just ready to call it a day, they (we) can leave. What that reinforces is privilege. A history of exploiting others. A history of not truly being committed to others or activities because "this is just an adventure for me". OK - I've had my fun now - I'm leaving. OK - I've gotten what I came for - I'm leaving.

Neither of those were options. We didn't want to play that game. We chose to be honest. We tried to handle the situation as responsibly, honorably, and honestly as possible.

It's easy to lay blame. Anybody can do it anytime. Everybody can feel justified. Love isn't about that. It's patient. It's kind. It doesn't delight in wrongness. We're all human and we just do the best we can, as we can.

So, in closing, I just want to share that love is not a game. It's not a word to use as a tool to get what we want. It's not an excuse to be reckless, inconsiderate, and selfish. It's not an excuse to hurt people because, after all, "you love" them.

So today, on this day of love born out of an act of defiance, let us remember that there is no fear in love. We are called to love one another. Love is not a game, an excuse, or a diversion.

Love is more than an emotion, it is a decision. (C. S. Lewis)

It is our highest calling.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Talking to a (Facebook) Wall

Sometimes it seems that no matter what we say, how much we explain, share, show, describe and specify, some people just cannot understand what we're trying to say.

It's frustrating for many reasons, but most of all, it's frustrating because the message never gets across. It hits a wall of assumption and bounces around in the ears of a "listener" who is not trying to hear, but who is working diligently to fit whatever is said into a box labeled "already know" or worse, fitting your experiences and/or feelings into their paradigm of absolutes.

Absolutes come in handy, maybe, if you're a child. Children are new to so many things and it's important that they can translate the heat from an iron to the dangers of a hot stove top. Children need to learn how "good" behavior and "bad" behavior are different. They need to begin developing a sense of "right" and "wrong".

When we become adults, however, especially educated adults, we need to be aware of not only filters and presumptions, but also "absolutist thinking". We need to set it all aside when listening to another person. The differences between what we've experienced and what we haven't, as well as the differences between what we "know" or believe with what we're unfamiliar, can become fertile soil. It's within that cultivated mental earth that growth can occur.

Facebook is a great place to share ideas, to learn something new, to see something from a different perspective, but it can also be a place to confirm what we think we already know.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the concept of "absolutes". I didn't really know that right/wrong, good/bad, yes/no were labeled as such, but in some places and with some people, that's the extent of their mental capacity. They just can't imagine a scenario that is anything other than black or white, right or wrong, good or bad. Additionally, many people can't hear what is shared beyond their idea of who the deliverer is "Oh, an American said that...", "oh, that's just a student...", "oh, they don't have a "real" job..."

I can't judge them even though I know I do, but it's frustrating when complex ideas are ignored because they don't fit into one of those neat boxes that people carry around when they "listen" to others. Am I making somebody think too hard? Lord have mercy I hope so - maybe one of us can come away with a new idea. Maybe even an idea of how to speak more simply.

Can you imagine that quality of listening in an academic environment? Would anybody ever learn anything since they already "know"? I love the 5 Ws and big H. Where? When? Who? Why? What? How? Those questions can form the foundation for learning and growth...and they can shatter the illusion of absolutes.

Some people have a hard time speaking in front of groups. We often think about speaking as being so difficult, but for many people, listening is the hard part.

To be a good listener, we open not only our ears, but our hearts and minds. We try to get out of ourselves for a minute; put our "self" to the side, sit on the bench.

I want to be a better listener. How about you?

English Language Learning as Product or Service?

Have you ever thought of language learning as a "product"? I  never had until recently. I'm not that well-read in education terminology, but I'd think of language learning as more of a service rendered than a product delivered. Of course, I don't associate teaching English with making money, either, but I'm only just learning about how big such an industry is, especially in places where knowing English as a second (or third or fourth) language can be the difference between a not-so-good job and a better job.

But about products and services.

Products are a one-stop answer. Moisturizer. Car wax. Bug spray.

Services seem to imply relationship. House cleaning. (I'll come to your house, check it out, give you a price and if I do a good job, you'll hire me again). Computer updates and repairs...checking, assessing, making adjustments... In short, with a service there is an expectation of dialogue (How many times a week? What seems to be the problem? Has it happened before?) Possibly even some kind of analysis in order to provide a better, more complete remedy.

It's taken me too long to figure this out, but while I don't agree with everything Michelle Kelly-Irving says, this article helped a bit and at least made me realize that I may not be jumping to too many conclusions. Her argument is basically that requiring English to be the language of academic writing has "downsides...that affect knowledge, science, policy and ultimately human thinking. This imposition of English upon the rest of the world, as well as being imperialism on a global scale, is also a form of cultural, and maybe even cognitive hegemony...".

At first, I disagreed vehemently with her assertions, but as I thought about it more, she does make at least one valid point. Speaking English in many countries is not the romanticized notion of "being one" with a world community, sharing and contributing ideas, or embarking on an empowered adventure of life-long learning; but possibly a feather in the cap of status and exaggerated sense of "betterness", if you will. I often see it on Facebook - heavy or potentially contentious conversations in Indonesian will be interrupted by someone using English that is usually constructed in such a way as to demean, ridicule, or "put another" in their place". I've also noticed that for quite a few, passing the TOEFL or IELTS test in order to study abroad is often not to learn, empower those at home and contribute to the universe of ideas, but as a means to gain a promotion or more posh position...sometimes even just to get away from it all.

The status associated with English speaking ability would be easy to blow it off as yet another vestige of a colonial past, but as the famous Indonesian author, Pramoedia Ananta Toer, put in the mouth of one of his characters, the Dutch were successful here because all they had to do was to tap into an existing social order, or hierarchy. Not quite a caste system, but it exists and is pretty obvious to a Southern American who grew up with something quite similar. People have a place and there are countless mechanisms to make sure it stays that way.

It's tiresome and as an English teacher with a conscience, I can't justify teaching skills that are often used in ways that further class divisions, put down rather than raise up, make money for someone with no real concern that students achieve a holistic mastery of the language, and that even promote "snootiness".

Teaching English can be a big business here. Of course, in order for that to happen, one needs to teach English as if it were some kind of product rather than a service; a package with materials and number of lessons. Services can include product, for sure, but a product without service and a commitment to building a culture of learning is nothing of true value.

Services empower and build relationship. Products will always need another application as soon as the first wears off. Services engage, build relationship and can build a foundation for life-long learning for all involved. Marketing English language learning as a product to be sold and bought is an affront to true education, an ineffective tool for true comprehension and objectifies one of the most versatile, powerful and beautiful languages in the world.

I want to teach English, but more than that, I want to inspire minds to use English in ways that truly empower, allow soulful reflection and develop an ability to make a contribution, contextualized and powerful,  to the global library of ideas.

There are so many amazing teachers here - they love the students and want to see them succeed - as learners, as educated people, as assets to themselves and their communities.

Being a native English speaker has its perks, but I'm not interested in using that to make a buck, but to make a difference. I want to empower people to use English. I want to make connections, build a conducive environment for teachers to do what they do best and for anybody who wants to learn to be able to learn.

I don't want people to think like me, but I do want people to think...and if they choose, to use English to express their thoughts in ways that inspire, inform, and empower others.

That doesn't sound like a product to me, but I do believe that it can be a service. And a good one, at that.

A Privileged Position, Revisited

This post from "Brainpickings" is a bit more detailed than necessary for my immediate purposes, but I did borrow this image from there and it is quite appropriate for what I'd like to share today.

I want to talk about privilege again because it is damn tiresome. It's a blessing, a burden, and something that I've always wished I could ignore, but can't.

Privilege can have many forms. The most obvious to many of us is White privilege associated with institutionalized racism, but I think there are more kinds in addition to that one; being an American, having a job, owning a house, being a part of the majority group (whatever/wherever that may be), and of course, having lots of money. 

I don't remember exactly when I first became aware of privilege. I'm sure it was when I was very young, though. Maybe it was that my mother could pick me up from school every day in a car or that my family always had enough to eat. Maybe it was our house, our activities, or our opportunities. As long as you're with others who have the same, it's not very obvious. It's normal. But when you're out of context; in a diverse school, on your own, or in another country, it becomes very obvious to anyone who is paying attention.

When I was in 6th grade, there was an assembly to welcome the new members to the Beta Club, a group of students who had achieved a certain (high) GPA. I hunkered down in my seat, embarrassed. I knew my name wouldn't be called. My grades were horrible. I knew that I had dropped the ball and that I could do better.

Imagine my shock when I was called to the stage. 

That was one of the first instances of privilege I recall. Apparently it was not only embarrassing for me, but for the school who would let the upper middle class white girl with a stay at home mom and banker father fall through the cracks so horribly. 

I'm sure I asked about it - was likely shut down - continued to make bad grades...and continued to be a member of the Beta Club. Even becoming Vice President, Secretary or Treasurer, I can't remember now.

Instead of being grateful for such things, I continued to make bad grades, rebel and speak out, often arguing in class and passionately asking questions that made everybody uncomfortable. 

I guess the reason I want to talk about this is because it's a system. It's maintaining the status quo. It's the way. And it's truly not fair. 

By the time I got to high school, unearned privileges like Beta Club membership ceased to exist, but there were other things happening then. There were the girls who were pregnant and enjoyed cover from the administration to deal with their conditions and decisions whilst maintaining a bit of dignity, and there were the girls who didn't. I hope that I don't need to tell you who benefited and who did not. If you're unsure, please review the 3rd paragraph and note the most obvious kind of privilege.

I just shared those recollections to note that if we pay attention, privilege isn't something dark and sneaky. It's right there in the open.

As an American living abroad, I now understand a different kind of privilege. Anytime anything happens that doesn't suit us, we get homesick or something goes wrong, we can just pack our bags and go home. No commitment, no suffering or prolonged heartache, no repercussions for our actions...we just go home. That's nice, I think, but it also causes problems. Remember when we were kids and there was always the one who would get mad, pick up their toys and go home? Maybe they didn't want to share, be told what to do, or even eat what your Mom had made for dinner, but they could just go home. As you get older, you know the kids who play that way and you treat them accordingly. Either the kid changes or eventually you'll stop playing with them. People don't want to get too involved with anybody that will just pick up and leave whenever they don't get their way. That's what it's like as an American abroad. We can just go home when things aren't going to suit us. There's no need to really try to build relationship, no need to try to make a "real" life - we can always go back to a "real" life when we're finished playing.

Don't get me wrong, the ability to go "home" is a blessing and I'm grateful for that, but I don't think that it should be used as a crutch to escape situations that may be uncomfortable or ones in which we're not getting our way. Going home whenever we get our nose out of joint or to escape is unfair and unfortunate for a couple of reasons. First of all, it treats other places and people as objects for fun and convenience. As soon as things get serious or we hit a bump in the road, we bolt. It's rather exploitative and disrespectful. It means the people with whom you've been building a life are only conveniences to be left as necessary. This leads into number two. By running "home" at every possible opportunity, we often have to leave the people in our lives who should come with us, even for a short visit. See, for US citizens, we can go pretty much wherever we want. Few countries require visas prior to arrival, we can get the proper stamps at the airport and be on our happy way. People in other countries don't have that freedom. There are restrictions galore preventing people from other countries (especially developing countries or countries with non-Christian majorities) from entering the US, even for a short visit. It just doesn't seem fair.

I haven't been home in 3 years. Of course I miss my daughter, my family and my friends. I also miss BBQ, Southern food and good pizza. I can't go home yet. I'm not playing. I didn't come here to have fun and go snorkeling, jet setting here and there, or to take advantage of the kind of lifestyle an American salary affords here. I didn't leave all that was, and remains to be, precious to me to play. Besides that, I haven't had an American salary, or any salary, for over a year. I don't have money to run around as I might like, but I have enough for now.

I know that shocks people. It shocks people at home and here, as well. An American who doesn't run home as soon as things aren't going her way? 

Things aren't going the way they were, but that doesn't mean that they're not good. In some ways, yes, harder, but also more worthwhile. I sleep better. More meaningful, intentional and honest? Yes. 

I'm aware of my privilege, but I'm also aware that I am not my privilege. I am Charlotte. And as usual, I'm just doing the best I can. 

Why Read? The Multifaceted Dimensions of Linguistics and Literature (Conference)

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to share at an international conference held at Maulana Malik Ibrahim State Islamic Univeristy in Malang. As many know, I am a BIG promoter of reading. Reading rules. Reading can be incorporated into any aspect of English as a Second Language (ESL) lesson planning.  I've enjoyed watching students learn to embrace reading - either as something fun, inspiring and enlightening or as a more pleasant way to study their English. Reading is fundamental. Spread the love!

This is a part of the organizing committee. They did an absolutely stellar job!

Pleasant to walk on this campus...

Some cute students that wanted to play a bit - awesome!

Lots of places to park that leave lots of places for walking unhindered

There were four plenary speakers and it was hard for me to contain my enthusiasm as two of them promoted student-centered learning and student empowerment. Yes! The other two were engaging as they mixed Bahasa Indonesian and Javanese with English in order to drive their messages home.

I attended additional sessions and was enriched and inspired by what I heard and saw.  So many smart and creative people!

I'm thankful for every opportunity to share and to learn, as well.

Knowledge may be power, but empowerment creates knowledge. I love doing all I can to empower, inspire and equip those who want to learn, and master, English.

Self-Righteous Indignation, Judgment and "The Struggle"

“You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image 

when it turns out that 

God hates all the same people you do.”

Anne Lamott

I believe that I've read somewhere that one should always struggle with their faith. Maybe I just think I read that because I want to believe that my struggle is justified. My faith, however, is never the struggle, but the way in which I'm supposed to operate in the world as a Christian? That's a big, endless struggle...

At first I didn't want to write about this because it seems negative. At least to my friends and family, I've shared how I've finally found a church that makes me happy and I can feel the love of God in the people and within the walls of the sanctuary. This is NOT about the church I attend or the people there. This is about what to do with ourselves when we are diametrically opposed to what another Christian presents and believes. 

Churches here are different. Coming from a background in which being Christian is (or at least, was) commonplace and is reflected in myriad aspects of cultural life, it's really different to experience Christianity in a way that  oftentimes seems to continue the traditions brought by "Western" missionaries from another time and place. I have trouble witnessing the perpetuation of an exclusionary superiority that presents itself in a heavy handed delivery of judgement, as well as an immutable concept of good/bad and right/wrong. Of course this happens in the US, too, but we have choices there. Different denominations, different churches, everything. The common thread of churches here, unfortunately, is that there isn't much diversity. In a communal culture, maybe, the majority rules and minority opinions are often silenced. The conservative/progressive discourse is happening here, but the progressive voice is not the one with power right now. This may not be evident, at first, but based on some things I've experienced and have also learned about, it's an unfortunate norm, rather than an exception, in many churches. I would also like to add that Christians in the US are currently fighting about what it means to be a Christian and that no group of people anywhere is ever immune to the fallout from people behaving like people like to behave. What happened today is of course based on interpretation that can be simplified into a conservative/progressive dichotomy, but I think it's more representative of something else. 

It's a reminder to us all that being a part of the Body doesn't mean that we're always going to agree...even if the disagreement is based on behavior that is colored by a self-righteous, angry, distortion of what it means to be a follower of Christ. 

That being said, especially with the judgement-laden terminology I chose to employ, I feel certain that many "self-righteous, angry, distorters" think equally harshly of those of us with a more progressive, Christ-centered perspective, and love-based religion. 

I'm aware that I chose to use judgement-laden words...that's a part of my point. We all judge. Those filled with hell fire and damnation are as sure of their words as I am of mine.

One of the main differences in the Reformed church here and the one with which I'm most familiar, the Presbyterian Church (USA), is that Elders here often give sermons.  They can even choose from a book of prepared sermons if they don't have time to create their own. 

I guess that's refreshing on one hand - distribution of power, new perspectives, and possibly giving the "real" pastor a break (but not really, pastors here often have to serve multiple congregations, so our pastor is serving another church when he's not delivering the sermon at our church). But on the other hand, it can promote a relatively untrained and self-serving finger-pointer into a supreme vantage point for pulling their self-righteous trigger. I guess I've experienced the origin of the term "bully pulpit"...

I served as an Elder and for me, it's about serving the congregation and rising above myself; my baseness, my agenda and my opinions. I never thought that I knew more than other congregants or was more worthy or righteous, I just felt called to serve and did.

At the English-speaking congregation in Jogja where I often attended services, I was invited to share some thoughts, reflections really, a couple of times.  It was always scary for me. Not because I didn't know what I was going to talk about and not even because I doubted what I wanted to say, but because who am I to get in front of people and talk about a relationship with God?  Who is anybody, for that matter?

Those without "real" theological training, Elder or not, giving sermons is problematical for me because  it's very easy to take things out of context, miss the big picture, and spread personal agendas using scripture as justification for such. Of course, "real" pastors can do and do the same, but there seems to be at least a semblance of theological integrity at stake for them, less so for others. 

This isn't as much of a problem for me if the person discloses that they have no theology degree and they talk about love, service and how to follow Christ...namely because I'd likely agree with them. But when "those others" deliver a message that allows them the position of judge, jury, and God's personal hit man, I get a bit uncomfortable. Angry, even.

And here's the struggle.

I used to accompany my Grandmother to her church. It was a different denomination from mine that is well known in the South and often, unfortunately contributes to the idea that the South is full of religious bigots and haters.

A part of my "home training" is to pay attention to the sermon. Listen attentively. Don't go to sleep, don't talk and don't play with other materials, books, or any similar distraction. My Grandmother often used to read the Bible during the service and I think I know why. When I would be so enraged that I felt the need to walk out, she'd be sitting peacefully reading her Bible.

I guess that's why she never absorbed the message of hate and judgement that seemed to flow freely from the pulpit. 

Why did she attend a church in which she didn't even half listen to the sermon? I guess it was about community, about being a part of the Body of Christ, being with her friends, and maybe of showing her commitment to being a good Christian who goes to church.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting there trying to figure out if I should stay or go. 

I always stayed. I'd never embarrass her that way, but it was hard. 

Today I had the same feeling. I wanted to walk out. It's only happened to me about 4 or 5 times in my life, but when it happens, I am ready to hit the door. Today, as always, I did not.

Not because the message wasn't dumbed-down and oversimplified. Not because I agreed with what he was saying. Not because he didn't twist and turn the Word of God into his own small, hateful worldview. Even though he seemed to be experiencing some orgasmic manifestation of self-righteous superiority by spewing vitriol and judgement from the pulpit, I stayed.

I didn't walk out because I was struggling with how we as Christians are supposed to treat people with whom we disagree. Walking out is the kindest thing I could have done. Truth be told, I wanted to yank him down and smack his face for being so damn hateful. 

But then wouldn't I be just like him?

I often wonder whether I've twisted the notion of God's message of love through Christ into something easy for me to digest. 

It doesn't seem to be natural to be so comfortable with my relationship with God. So maybe I'm just like him, but on the other side of the fence.

Today I asked myself how my faith challenges me. 

Every time I'm able to keep my mouth shut, every time I don't give in to base acts of violence and every time I don't spew judgmental hate right back at the right wing haters that seem so comfortable doing the same, I'm challenged and struggling. 

I'm not a sweet tempered, passive person. I'm a fighter. I love action movies and I've always enjoyed a good argument.

But when I can rein all that in, control myself and try to be more loving, understanding, and patient, I'm trying to live my faith.

I guess we all are - I hope we all are. 

Meanwhile, I'll just sit and read my Bible.

Where is Home?

Last week I sold my house.

Built in 1948 and continually in need of cost-prohibitive maintenance, especially in the later years, I was happy to have the burden of a mortgage off my back.

At the same time, however, it was my home. My place. My refuge. My address. My stability.

It's gone now and I'm thankful, but now I wonder...where is home?

I've lived in Indonesia for almost 3 years, but I don't own a home (foreigners aren't legally allowed to own property...a good idea, I must say, based on the colonial past of this country). 

Charlotte, NC will always be my home. I was born there and I love it. 

When I was 3, my family moved from there to the "town where I grew up". Decidedly NOT my home. 

And here I am now. "The place where I live". But is it home?

If I follow the line of reasoning that says the place where you own property is home, then what about all the people in the world who rent? Have they no home either?

I don't think so.

I decided that I have many homes. If my home is where MY heart is, then my home is wherever my daughter happens to be. My home is also where my mother is, and even where my dearest and closest friends are. My memories may be in Elkin, NC, or in the NC mountains, or even along the coasts of North and South Carolina, but those places aren't home. I am sad to say that the city and neighborhood where I spent the happiest years of my life are no longer my home, either. 

I once worked for someone who told me that he'd never before met anyone as willing and committed to growing as I am. He was right; I will push myself and I will do all I can to grow into the person I should be. It's not easy, and it's certainly not easy right now as I ponder the meaning of home, roots, stability, and even purpose. 

The culture that nurtured me and formed my belief systems is like other places now, a memory. Now I have to consider what to keep and what to let go, what's valuable and what holds me back. 

While the places I've loved are memories, my home will always be where my heart is. And my heart is with many wonderful people, even within me.

I thank God for the love that will always make a place for me and will always provide my home.