First and foremost, an apology: I am sorry to all who check up on me via blog and I am sorry to myself and to the writer I hope to some day be for having not blogged since November. I was able to do a weighty amount of creative work this past Winter semester which satiated my need to wax poetic. I have also had some of the most difficult, challenging, and inspiring past six weeks of my life with little room to write more than letters. Today is my last Sunday as Project Director in Pine Ridge, South Dakota. Like last year, I am serving eight weeks with Mennonite Disaster Service (MDS) as a part of a bursary program. Unlike last year, however, I am in a location where despair is imminent and in a position where responsibility never ceases. Since arriving on April 15th, I have learned to navigate (and navigated) a world and role for which I could have never prepared. As Project Director I have introduced weekly volunteers to the pain of Pine Ridge; ordered house packages; transported tubs, sheet rock, and loads of lumber 100 miles from Rapid City; learned to recognize each plumbing and electrical part that fits into a house; helped stake out foundations; driven roads so muddy I prayed I would not slide off; worked alongside some of the most gracious and loving people and dealt with others whose racism, bullying, and stubborness made me want to "drink gin straight outta the cat dish;" lived alongside angrily precocious neighbors; scheduled sub contractors; corralled a group into the emergency shelter; and worked to make sure my long-term volunteers are staying happy and healthy. As 21-22 year old Lizzie, I have gone home twice to sit with my mother in the hospital and help around the house; called home almost daily when not there to check on how she is doing; grounded myself out of multiple anxiety attacks; absorbed the pain and desperation of generational poverty; broken the dress code habitually after realizing the church's unhealthy view of sexuality contributed to sexual abuse in residential schools (and my role as a woman is not to make boys more comfortable); watched everyone else eat dessert while I munched on frozen berries because most of the cooks have considered saving me some salad to be "accommodating food intolerances;" hated myself for not giving homeless people money at the store; picked up a lot of hitchhikers; became good friends with a German whom I may never see again; told myself I will never do this again only to fall in love with the role; let the wild winds and open prairies breathe through the sadness in my soul; and allowed myself to voice that the prairies are HOME. I have been so filled with the love of God it almost hurts. I have been so overwhelmed by learning to do this role I have seriously considered packing my suitcase and fleeing in the dead of night. I have walked the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre barefoot and offered a prayer with each step. I have marched up a hill in pouring rain, face lifted to the sky, and the Hail Mary ringing from my lips. I have fiercely protected a dietetic intern, kind older woman, and bursary participant from a manipulative cook and recognized what a 21 year old theology student can bring to this role that 70 year old white men often don't have. I have once again found the steel strand of courage and tenacity to face challenges that lies within me. And I have slowly and surely continued to rediscover the fiercely independent, capable of great vulnerability and adaptability, resilient, sassy, smart, unapologetic for my own femaleness woman I am.
1 Comment
Valerie
6/17/2018 03:39:53 pm
I continue to be so inspired by you, Elizabeth. Thank you for your tenacity and courage.
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Elizabeth SchragAdventurer. Biblical and Theological Studies major. Borderline Vegan. Rebel with a cause. Archives
March 2017
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