"So, are you a missionary?" someone asked me today. "Well, sort-of..." was my hesitant reply, knowing the various connotations that word has on the rez. Of course, this guy was Hispanic, not Lakota, so maybe I shouldn't have been so worried.
Sure, I'm a missionary, for lack of a better term. But I've always thought of mission work as grueling, intensive, difficult drudgery, 90% of the time. Sure, it can be fun and rewarding. And sure, each day on the rez is intense. But shouldn’t it be hard?
I think the problem is that I have this nagging fear that maybe I’m not supposed to be here. The first couple of days at Cangleska, I kept thinking, “Wait, what am I doing here?” as if I had amnesia. And I really fear that when I hit a roadblock, when I get so stuck I don’t know where to go next, I’m going to be really worried that it was all a mistake. And somehow, I just expected this to be more like dragging myself through mud than downhill skiing.
I think that for some reason, God has taken pity on my fears. I have no idea why He doesn’t just say, “Quit whining. Get over yourself and lets get moving!” No, instead there is this gentle encouragement, like, “It’s ok, don’t worry. Here, see? I’m helping you out, so you know this is right and I’m here.” And He’s basically just dropping things into my lap. I haven’t even had to work for the things that have fallen into place. I feel like a scared puppy whose owner keeps throwing her treats to cheer her up. But I expect that I will have to get over my fears within some timeframe—before the hard part begins.
Cangleska is awesome. When I’m not working I talk to people, especially at the offices in the new shelter, and listen to their perspectives on the problems they deal with. It doesn’t take much to get people to share their ideas, and you don’t really even to need to ask for them to share their problems. I’ve got a lot of projects to work on, especially since Norma is gone Sundancing all this week. I’ll be setting up the rummage ‘store’ at the new shelter, where people can come and take clothes and other things that have been donated. I’ll be working more on the curriculum that Norma is putting together. And I’ll be helping the advocates (they’re sort of like secretaries) at the old
shelter. Norma cracks me up because she keeps saying, “Thank you so much! You don’t know what a help you are!” when basically all I’ve done is talk to people, organize closets, and take a three-hour nap. (I was waiting for her to show me something on Wednesday when I started dozing off, and she said, “Oh, why don’t you go on the couch out there?” So I told her to just wake me up when she was ready, but I don’t think she had the heart to do that, and I woke up on my own three hours later.)
When Norma gets back from the Wiwacipi I’ll get to spend more time with the women and their kids. I got a taste of it last Wednesday when I sat in on a group meeting, listening to women tell stories about their kids, their husbands/boyfriends, families, schools, custody battles, and various kinds of abuse: abuse inflicted on them by husbands and families, or on their kids by family, other kids, and teachers. They talk about how they and their kids try to defend themselves. Sometimes they don’t even realize that what they’ve been through was abuse; often they try to put blame on everyone except their man—especially themselves.
I took Friday and Saturday off—which was fantastic! I had been going pretty much nonstop since I started packing on Monday night, so I really needed the sleep. Then I got back in the game today.
Originally, I had been worried that I wouldn’t have a way to get to church today. I still don’t have a car or anything, but I’m carpooling Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday with Kathy Aplan who teaches TV production at OLC. Well, it turned out that the OLC graduation was today, so I rode with her to Kyle. And that bought me some time to work out the Sunday transportation issue—I’m still working on it.
I packed up a bunch of the kids materials last night. Then Kathy was late this morning, so I went into Albertson’s while I was waiting and picked up some things I’d forgotten—including a pack of onesies for Christopher, Christie’s newborn. Well, the graduation started at 10, so Kathy dropped me off the church about a quarter to. But church doesn’t start until 11. So I started walking around the grounds, scoping out repair needs. That’s when this Hispanic guy whose name I can’t spell said, “Hi. Who are you?”
He and his four kids are living in the decrepit, run-down, poor excuse for a house they call the rectory. And he was glad to meet me, but he didn’t have much good to say about Fr. Apple, of course (there are problems between them—involving rent and drinking and lies). I brushed it off, but I made the mistake of mentioning it to Tunkasila later, and I’m afraid he’s worrying about now.
Well the man whose name I can’t spell was making breakfast for his kids (his drunk wife is in jail). So a few minutes after he went back into the house, I picked up my coloring pages and new markers and knocked on the door. That seemed to strike a nice chord, and he brought me into the house. He told me the names of the three kids sleeping on the floor in the front room—they woke up and started coloring later. Then he offered me a glass of water and basically started pouring his heart out me. I mean, really: alcohol, cocaine, parents, medical problems, poverty, bad schools, jail, prayer, God, anger, deceit, church, sin, staying clean: the whole works in less than an hour. It turned out that when he asked me if I’m a missionary, it wasn’t cynicism; he was seeking help. Then he asked me to watch the kids while he went to buy diet pop, so I got to chat with them. It’s unbelievable how hungry for the Gospel they are. Even the teenage boys who you would think would be thinking “What’s this white girl doing in my house? I ain’t coloring no pictures!” came over and colored and talked. So they told be about their life, school, family, and the people they look up to. They talked about the Bible stories they like, and listened to me tell them about the stories in the pictures. I told them they could come to church anytime, but I think they’ve got problems with Fr. Apple via their dad. But they seemed glad when I said I would be back next week.
Nobody came to church today, presumably due to the graduation. But Tunkasila and I prayed. Then we walked around the church talking about what needs work. I found out earlier last week that there’s a youth group whose Habitat for Humanity mission bailed on them, and they need a mission trip! When I called Tunkasila last week to see if he had some work that he needed done, he laughed at me. I think they have capacity to do more than what we talked about this morning, but we’ll let God tell us what’s most important. Then we went by the house so I could see Christie and give her the present. I tried to get her to come have lunch, but she didn’t want to take Christopher out in the heat (up to 106 in the sun). So then Tunkasila and I went over to the graduation pow-wow and had lunch there. It was good to finally see them.
So the wheels are certainly in motion. I’ve got quite a bit coming up, but you’ll have to hear about that later. This is getting long.
Mitakuye Oyas’in
Jenny
e, so here's what I am tentatively planning to have: frisbee, volleyball (we can use things we find around the yard for a net--trust me), maybe soccer, hopefully twister, maybe one other board game, and some 4th of July themed craft for inside. Plus something cold to drink.
