My bucket list

The Mission

	Community Work Services Mission Statement To promote independence through employment for persons challenged by physical, emotional, mental, developmental, social or economic problems by providing quality vocational services that restore and enhance dignity, respect, esteem and skills.

Pretty cool, huh?

The past four days have been a whirlwind of activity and learning. My co-workers have all taken me under their wings and are teaching me the ropes of case management. It is a world that resonates with me on so many different levels, but still manages to challenge me on a daily basis. I have acquired several clients already through our counselors, who are happy to have a bilingual worker on board to help them. I am also shadowing conferences and classes, talking to my boss a lot, and I'm getting to know the participants within our various programs. It is strange to see my name on so many official documents and to know that I will be providing direct service to so many people. I feel like I have worn several hats already throughout the week -- case manager, translator, listener, and sometimes, even, friend. It is draining work, and I have crashed every night since I started trekking downtown. I even fell asleep on the bus coming home today and woke up about a mile after my stop.

There are caring individuals at CWS, and some of them have been in this work for well over a decade. I am impressed by the strength that some of them carry. Several of my co-workers are aiming towards full-fledged social work, while others will be going on to become counselors, career specialists, or nurses. The participants are all very patient people -- some of them walk through life with serious disabilities. Many of them have found a home in the training programs that we provide for them. I am glad.

My apologies for not being in touch in regard to phone calls and the like. I am still adjusting to the schedule. But I thank God every day that I wake up and make my way to CWS.'

Check us out.

I failed my surfing exam

Uggghhh...

I am being a bad roommate and avoiding the shovels on my porch. I should be outside getting all that snow out of the way. It's been piling up since the morning and I keep telling myself that I'm going to get laundry done. I can hear our neighbor grinding the asphalt off our driveway, but I ignore it nonetheless.

Last night was awesome. We had dragon boat practice out in East Boston, near the airport in a public pool. There were only seven of us that made the trip out there, so Bob decided to have a little fun with us. He stopped our paddling after about half an hour to grab the plastic kayak that was on the wall, and then had Sandy, Lily and I try our way across the pool. We made it to both ends, but once we were out on the edge David, Victor and Al tried their luck. This led to unstoppable laughter from the rest of us as we watched the guys futilely attempt to keep the boat afloat. Bob jumped in to help, making it even funnier as his weight capsized the kayak over and over again. Finally, we grabbed the surfer board and did mock races back and forth across the pool, slipping off every few feet before passing the board onto the next victim. In the end we dumped our coach into the pool, just to keep things fair, and forgot the cool-down so we could dry off. Practice ended with a group outing at a nearby Mexican restaurant and a telecast awards ceremony hosted by Don Francisco and some of Mexico's most famous artists.

I am sore. :)

Happy

So I got the job I wanted. I am so excited.

So excited I could go didjeridoo about it.




Community Work Services will be a new place for me...and a great avenue through which I can reach out to others. I am still processing it all, but more details will follow.

Thank you for your prayers!

The Lonesome Boatman

This is so cool....



I went out to lunch with some friends today. One asked how my finger was, another one asked what the hell a dragon boat was, and the third one asked me if I was a Viking.

I am a Viking with soul.

Night

We all have those identities we wish we could slip into at times...the personas behind which we can bury the pain of our true selves. I found myself wishing I could do just that at the party tonight. I don't know why. It was fun and all, but I just didn't fit like I used to. It wasn't only the social scene that felt odd, it was everything in between - the topics of conversation, the ways people related to one another, the strange familiarity of it all. I had obviously changed, and yet people around me seemed comfortable being in the same bubble as before.

I picked an identity so opposite to what was normative at that party, and at Weston in general. Perhaps even within the Church itself. It feels good. It gives me a sense of power and self-sufficiency that I probably don't claim anywhere else. The solitude that it embodies remains a continuous protest against the status quo and the silencing of voices that deserve to be heard.

bookworms

I am at peace in this kitchen. My sweet potatoes are cooking in the oven and I am thinking up some new concoction for dinner. Tonight is the B's famous YouTube party (ask me later) and it should be good. It is the only party they've had this semester. I am looking forward to it.

I just finished reading Broken Trust and am still processing its stories of redemption. I am surprised by my ability to sit through them this far. When I first picked up the book I didn't think I could handle what it had to say. But I have been wanting to be present to someone else for a while, and it is good to know that I can be.

The next book on my list is A Monk's Alphabet. I am still laughing from the ingenuity of Umberto Eco's The Name of The Rose, hoping secretly that Driscoll's book can measure up to Eco's game of cat and mouse. They are different authors with very different styles. Driscoll may not keep me up nights the way Eco's storytelling did. But I'll fill you guys in on what I think in the next few days.

What I Wouldn't Give

Thoughts

I'm not doing so well. I seem to have hit a milestone of sorts. I find myself reading and re-reading my earlier post from August 16th, Letters of Ash, and wondering what in the world to make of everything now. I feel different, yet still numb, more energized, but still unsure about the future. I picked up Broken Trust on my way through a local bookstore yesterday and immediately took to the last chapters on survival. They were redemptive tales of individuals who'd found the courage to move past the hurt, some even to thrive. As I search the Internet for meaningful work and jump deeper into the life of my parish, I too feel the desire to be made whole again.

I don't know how to move past my anger. Sometimes it overwhelms me to the point where I cascade into a depression full of self-loathing. I am so ashamed of all of it. I want to reach out and ask for help, but I don't have the right words for it. My therapist is helping me to develop a language through which I can do this, but I am terrified of witnessing people's reactions to my story. I am in need of a spiritual guide, and yet I fear the rejection and the internal unconscious self-preservation through which so many retreat in shock. I also hate being told that I have a gift for ministry. The wound is only sliced more deeply as I am forced to re-examine which parts of myself do and and do not remain committed to my former goals. I also know that with every minister comes a journey, a transparency through which others can see self-transformation, and of course, suffering. I dare not share this suffering with the rest of the world. What if I suddenly find myself becoming a shadow of my past self, the person before my years at Weston? I had lost a sense of what it meant to be free. Yet suddenly I find myself imprisoned by my own need to understand the abuse I went through.

I have stopped calling friends and in general am feel uninspired by my usual activities. Dragon boat practice has become more frustrating as I have incurred more sport injuries and remain on the bench with a broken finger.

Happy February

Thoughts from the Irish city...