Lessons Learned in 2013

What a year 2013 was! It was a year of remarkable growth and excitement. One adventure after another, many of which I never anticipated, taught me many things. In fact, I narrowed down the top five lessons I learned in 2013. Here they are: 

5. Not everyone will support you -- and that's ok. Find the people that will. 

Popular blogger Marc Chernoff explains: "One of the most freeing things we learn in life is that we don’t have to agree with everyone, everyone doesn’t have to agree with us, and that’s OK. " Don’t let the opinions of others tempt you to forget who you are and what you stand for.

 ...and if you can't find allies: speak up anyway, because what's right is right even if it's not popular.

There are people who insist on speaking the truth simply because it is the right thing to do. Vaclav Havel once said that such daring grows out of the faith that repeating the truth makes sense in itself, regardless of whether it is "appreciated, or victorious, or repressed for the hundredth time." I think he was right.

Integrity and steadfastness are virtues that don't go out of style. So even if it's uncomfortable: let your voice be heard. 

 

4. When saying something, say it from a seat at the table and with respect.

Like many other young and ambitious women, this year I read Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In. Her advice about sitting at the table wasn't extraordinarily insightful… until I watched our President refuse to** sit in the same room as his colleagues while the fate of our country hung in the balance.

Too many times this year, I encountered professors and politicians that refused to sit at the table. Their disrespectful actions showed me how important it is to be civil (and that civility requires respect). Intentionally or not, we are building a future for ourselves and our kids -- and any future where disagreements can't (or won't) be voiced in the same room is a terribly scary one. 

3. Big girls do cry. Sometimes even in public.

I can't remember crying publicly since the 90's...until this year. In 2013, I wept with friends after a heartbreaking vote at the Capitol*; accidentally made a man of influential position and wealth cry; and held the hand of an octogenarian as we quietly shared heartfelt tears of appreciation at a packed awards ceremony. Privately, I teared up wedding dress shopping with a close friend, in a rain forest, and at the doctor's office. Frank Valli (and even Fergie) were wrong: big girls do cry. (And sometimes it ends up in the newspaper for all to see.) 

 

2. Don't underestimate working hard each and every day.

This year, I learned to be faithful in each day's work. When we work hard today, we may be rewarded generously tomorrow. Or we may not be. Either way, what we're working on today is deserving of our best effort and our undistracted attention (or it isn't worth our time and we shouldn't be doing it at all).

This year, I worked hard. Some nights I didn't get much sleep because I was going to school full-time, working part-time, and voluntarily advocating against overly restrictive legislation. Not surprisingly, I encountered really uncomfortable situations (like being called a "merchant of death"). I worked with persistence and determination because it felt like the right thing to do. Then, after a season of unrelenting demands, I was hugely surprised by nominations and awards that I didn't deserve. I hope to never lose the overwhelming feeling of humility that strikes at my core when someone tells me something really cool is happening because I worked hard. In very real ways, I was reminded that sometimes hard work pays off. 

… which leads me to biggest lesson I learned this year:

1. Celebrate.

Sometimes, we're victorious. We work hard; we overcome obstacles. We dream up the unthinkable -- and make it happen against all odds. And those moments -- the ones in which victory fleetingly appears-- are worth celebrating. I learned this year to never be too busy or too frugal to recognize success. Whether it's with a fancy four-course dinner or a single scoop of ice cream, it's important to recognize when our friends -- and ourselves-- do the remarkable.

I learned that for each obviously significant event like an engagement, graduation, or birth -- and even for the less obvious ones like ending a bad relationship, surviving a demanding week, or simply making it out of bed when wrestling with grief or depression -- we don't do it alone.

We are beyond lucky to have our health, our friends, and our youth. So we celebrate -- because there's too much hard and horrible in this world to forego celebrating the good and the wonderful.

"Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No." -- Matthew 5:32

Found! :D

I haven't been blogging lately because I couldn't log in. Something funky happened with my google blogger account and my blog had disappeared... but now it's back and I'm SO glad!

I will have to make a real blog post soon. For now, though, I will simply say that I'm curious about what 1,300 words organized in CREAC form discussing if a detached garage is considered a dwelling under Colorado's Make My Day Statute looks like. As of now, I don't have any clue what it looks like. I'm wishing I had paid attention this week in class when the professor was attempting to explain it to me. But, good news: soon, very soon, I will know how to write in this foreign style... and I'll know what 1,300 words organized in such a fashion looks like, because I will have done it.

<3,
Kate

Drought & Dadaab

I haven't noticed the refugee crisis in Kenya getting much attention lately. While I realize there's only about 20 people that read my blog on a regular basis, I think it's worth sharing a bit about what's going on in hopes of increasing awareness.

An estimated 10 million people have been affected by severe drought in East Africa. The UN just officially declared famine areas in Somalia for the first time since the 1984-1985 famine in Ethiopia when over 1 million people died. Over 160,000 Somalis have fled to Kenya and Ethiopia seeking shelter and food. Refugee camps lack the resources necessary to accept the thousands of people crossing Somalian borders each day. Now that you have a snapshot of the situation, here are a couple news articles from today. Most of the articles are from obscure news sources and certainly aren't headlining front pages.  {Click here for more background information and data on the drought.}

Somali refugee waits for her life to begin again in Dadaab, Kenya

DADAAB, Kenya (July 19, 2011) — It was at Block N-Zero in Ifo camp that I first saw her. This is the camp where some of the new arrivals first settle. Her young face was hidden by the headdress that she wore.

At first, I thought it was just the layers of clothes that she was wearing. But when she stepped out of the tent and straightened up, I saw that she was visibly pregnant, seven months to be exact. She is going to have her first baby in this camp and she is 14 years old.

Amina* had arrived 10 days earlier with her mother-in-law, uncle and young cousins. It took them 26 days to walk from their home region in southern Somalia. Fortunately, they were not attacked by bandits, but they had to look out for hyenas and lions.

Along the way, Amina told me, they relied on the kindness of strangers. When they ran out of goats to eat, they resorted to begging. Even when people did not have much to spare, they would part with a little rice and a little water. They would try not to send Amina and her relatives away empty-handed.

Amina has never been to school. Her uncle said that her parents never thought of sending her to school because they didn’t believe it was important for her. Instead, they arranged for her to be married at age 12. Her husband is somewhere in Kismayu, Somalia, looking desperately for employment. It is likely that he is burning trees for charcoal. In these hard times, jobs are so hard to find.

Despite her youth, there is a calmness and strength about Amina, a look of expectation that I have seen in countless faces here. I have steeled myself not to make eye contact with Amina or anyone that I meet in the camp. Their needs are so many, but all they are asking for is basic services for their families: safe water, sanitation, access to health care and a decent roof over their heads.

This young girl believes that once her family is registered and they finally receive one of the most prized possessions in the camp for new arrivals—a food ration card—all will be well. Then, she hopes, they will begin to forge a new life for themselves.

For now, Amina continues to wait at Block N-Zero in this harsh, bleak, thorny, dusty place. She waits to start life over again.

No respite for refugees facing famine

Dadaab, Kenya (CNN) -- More than 10 million people are in need of food aid in the Horn of Africa and most of them are in Somalia. But for those who leave Somalia for Kenya's refugee camps, life may not be much better. Outside the Dadaab refugee camps in Kenya's North Eastern province, Aden Ibrahim carries the limp body of his daughter Sarah. Sarah was just four. She drew her last breath at dawn.

A group of men join Ibrahim in facing Mecca to pray for her soul, before wrapping her in a white sheet and burying her. Sarah's uncle Ibrahim Hassan Mohammed says that they fled to Kenya from Somalia hoping for better.

"We didn't come with money from Somalia -- we didn't come with anything," says Mohammed. "We're refugees, but we are dying because we don't get enough help." His family arrived in June, tired and hungry, but Ibrahim says they were forced to beg for food for two weeks.

Sarah was malnourished and sick. Her family took her to a health point in the nearest camp but it didn't help. They were referred to the nearest hospital, run by Doctors Without Borders, but they missed the NGO vehicle that periodically takes people there and a ride would have cost just over a dollar. It's more than any of the new refugees could afford. They literally have nothing.

"We have not been given enough help because we have been given flour and maize only," says Ibrahim. "A child who is sick will not get better on flour and maize. She needed more help."

"If the child could have been taken to hospital, and been given some medicine to help her, she could have maybe survived," adds Mohammed.

Respiratory infections are rife at this settlement. There is no water point -- the closest is in the nearest camp --- and no sanitation services. There are no schools and no food distribution in this area. Some people are in shelters that don't even have roofs of sheeting, just a few twigs.


Now Ibrahim worries that he could lose another child. His daughter Deka is dangerously thin.

"It is in God's hands, it is not in mine. But if it stays this bad ... more people will die," he says.

"I don't regret leaving Somalia," he adds, "but if it becomes worse now then I might be not so sure."

Mohammed is angry that aid agencies are not doing more to help them. "I appeal to the world to help us," he says. "Our children are dying because of hunger. We need water, we need a hospital, they mustn't forget us."

Just outside the settlement, the dusty wasteland where Sarah is buried is known as "Bola Bagti." It means "carcass" -- it's where people leave their animals to die. Maribou storks roam among the animal bones that lay on the ground.

"The people who helped me bury her are new arrivals," says Ibrahim. "They are hungry ... this early in the morning they went there to dig at that place, but I couldn't give them any food to eat."

But he says they protected Sarah's body well. They heaped a mound of sand on top of her shallow grave and then gathered thorn bushes and thorn-tree branches. "The hyenas won't be able to reach her," says Ibrahim. "She is already in paradise."

While I recognize that I'm unique in that I hope to spend my life on behalf of refugees, I don't think I'm unique in thinking it ridiculous that a man buried his four year old daughter yesterday morning and hopes not to lose another child to malnutrition in the next few days. I would like to think our world would care more about stories like these if we heard about them more regularly, but I'm not convinced.

The amount of corruption in East Africa does little to encourage my hope of a global non-governmental response to this issue. While well-intentioned Americans can rather easily be persuaded to contribute $10 or $20 to this cause, finding organizations that will put this money to work with the utmost respect and efficiency it deserves is much harder. My recommended organization: Food for the Hungry.

Under Contract

My housing situation the last year has been somewhat capricious. I left the Broomfield house to move to Longmont for Flatirons-provided housing, spent a few weeks couch-surfing when said provided housing fell apart, moved in with Kev for a little bit before moving into the laundry room in the Broomfield house, before finally moving back into a bedroom at the Broomfield house. This is a house I love. The neighborhood isn't fancy, nor is our house... but it's the place that I've come to know as home. It's where I re-integrated into our crazy American culture after spending months in Africa, it's where Charisa and I have hosted countless community groups, parties, and dinners, a place filled with memories of remarkable friendships, girls nights, bible studies, late-nights, and so mcuh more! It's where I learned to ride my motorcycle, where we camped in the back yard, where friends dropped by to say hello. It's where I've learned to care more about things that matter and less about things that don't... and, as of last weekend, it's under contract to be sold. This house rivals my childhood home for most meaningful places I've lived and while I'm a bit bummed to be leaving, I'm so grateful for the memories. 

extraOrdinary Days

Occasionally extraordinary days come along. Both Saturday and Sunday this weekend were extraordinary days for me. On Saturday, Charisa competed in the Tough Mudder and on Sunday I went fishing with some close girlfriends.  While this weekend didn’t offer much time for rest, it was filled with fantastic moments spent with people I love.  I’ve arrived at the end of my weekend exhausted – an indication of a weekend well spent.

5280Vida Team @ the Tough Mudder 

...after they finished the TOUGH MUDDER! 

Fishing with Friends :) 

Timed Out

I'm usually a person that knows what I want. I don't mind classifying myself as "decisive," yet there's one decision that's taken me awhile to decide on: law school. Before I left for Kenya in 2009, I sat for the LSAT. While I was in Kenya, I wrote my entrance essay and applied at the University of Colorado. In March of 2010 they accepted me! Then, the internship came along and I asked for a deferral. I've utilized every moment since then to waver back and forth, and back and forth again, about starting (or not starting) law school this August. The school called last week wanting a tuition deposit: time has run out.

Here's the issue: I'm passionate about justice, think I'm well-suited for law school and a legal career, and think I would enjoy the three years of grueling work required to graduate. However, at a cost of $180,000, I'm not sure it's something I can afford. $180,000. That's a house! Dual-income families work (and work hard) to make their mortgage payments on their $180,000 houses each month all across America... and that's what I have to borrow for a non-tangible education in law.

My heart lies with the orphaned, the widowed, the oppressed. The exploited, the taken advantage of. The forgotten, the marginalized. Fighting against injustice on behalf of those unable to fight for themselves is, for me, the underlying desire behind law school. The concept of defense is what motivates me.

The thought of taking on $180,000 in debt is outrageously frightening.

But, like I said, I've run out of time. I've been dangling my feet in the shallow end of the pool for a solid eighteen months and now it's time to jump in or get out. *Sigh* So, I wrote a check to the University of Colorado. Only $179,300.00 left to go.

Woah. Those are big numbers -- really big! But, my God is a big God. So, I'm in the pool. Fully aware of where the exits are (stairs in the shallow end, ladder in the deep end), but in the pool.

I pray for peace about this decision...because $180,000 is a whole heck of a lot of cash.

--Wolf Law Building on 6/20/11--

Desert Desire

Work is slow today, very slow. I've spent the morning listening to music by The National and Bob Dylan. I must admit, my choice of music today has been great (a rarity).

Kevin and I are leaving for Moab after work... and I'm so delighted! Yesterday morning I woke up, hopeful that it was Friday, but it wasn't -- it was Thursday. But today -- today I woke up and it was Friday, and that was very exciting for me... because it means that tonight I will fall asleep under a splendid starry sky. Tomorrow I will wake up, surrounded by sandstone and majestic desert views. As I climb, I'll be overwhelmed by the purity of the wonderful, smooth, warm rock in my hands...

It's hard to relay the feelings of joy and happiness that swell in my heart as I turn off I-70 and drive (both far too quickly and not nearly quickly enough) down highway 191 towards Moab... but it happens every time, without fail, and I'm glad it does.

I'm like a small child on Christmas Eve. The anticipation is almost unbearable. I keep glancing at the clock, eagerly watching the minutes tick by until the time shows 5:00 PM and I'm free to race into the desert and seek solace until Monday evening when it's time to come home.

@ 25 years

I turned twenty-five a few days ago. Twenty-five seems so old... almost permanent. My sixteenth birthday was a big one, as was eighteen, and twenty-one. At those milestone birthdays, I felt good about what I was accomplishing and who I was becoming. I'm not sure how I feel about twenty-five. Am I doing things with my life? Yes. Am I proud of who I am? Most days. Do I feel solid about where I am at this milestone? Not totally.

Where have I been? Physically, I've learned to walk, run, ride horses, and scale mountains. Geographically, I've been to almost every state, Canada, Mexico, Honduras, the Netherlands, Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania. I've seen enough places to know I want to see more... and  to know that I live in an incredible playground. Academically, I've graduated pre-school, elementary school, middle school, high school, college, and look forward to graduating college again in a few years. Familially, my life has changed dramatically. I was born into a loving family with two parents, watched my mom walk out when I was ten, my dad re-marry when I was 18 and pass away when I was 24, and last week I managed to celebrate my 25th birthday without recognition from any of my parents (by birth or marriage). Spiritually, I've grown quite a bit over the twenty-five years and know I have plenty of maturing left to do. I've been baptised and baptised others, and strive to hear "well done, good and faithful servant" when the times comes. Career-wise, I landed a good job out of college, enjoyed a few promotions, and left it behind in favor of a volunteer opportunity in East Africa. I've worked for a bank, an NGO, and a church, worked in fancy offices and cubicles -- even grass huts and chicken coops. By far, my most rewarding work has been teaching rural villagers basic business skills.

Where am I now? Working in Boulder, living with my best friend, choosing to be part of a relationship that some days brings me great joy and others frustration, rebuilding what I lost during the internship, and preparing for what's to come. Soon, I'll be learning French.

Where am I going? Good question. In August, I'll be walking in the front doors of the impressive brick building off Baseline & Broadway known as the Wolf Law Buildling. In three years, I hope to walk out of those same doors with a Juris Doctor designation and the ability to kick serious ass for Jesus. In the interim, I hope to become better acquainted with the people and places of Afghanistan and Sudan.

What have I learned along the way? I've learned that...

• ...good friends (really good friends) are hard to find, and when you find one you'll do pretty much anything to keep from losing them...but won't need to, because you couldn't push them away if you tried.
• ...knowing who you are and what you stand for is far more valuable than what you look like, what you own, or what others may tell you. Knowing what you stand for sets you apart...
• ...it's not all about a big paycheck... but that my paycheck needs to be big enough to cover my bills, put a little in savings, and always give 10% away. 
• ...home is a place worthy of protection.
• ...sometimes, a latte really is worth $3.00.
• ...intelligence and aptitude are important... but hard work and dedication are what get things done.
• ...asking questions is good. Learning how to ask them is an art. (Still learning this one...)
• ...people will disappoint you. Lots. Love them anyway.
• ...people will surprise and amaze you if you let them. Let them.
• ...loneliness is usually a choice. As is happiness... and contentment... and joyfulness.
• ...if I have to fight, I want it to be with someone that can fight fair.
• ...being on time shows respect.
• ...some days are easier than others, but each one is a blessing.
• ...travel is good for the soul. Wherever you go, whatever you do, whatever the cost to get there, if you experience new things, it's worth it. Knowing when to go and when to stay are invaluable.
• ...God is up to something. He doesn't require me to like it or understand it, but trusting Him is a great adventure.
• ...I have many, many more things to learn.  

Injustice, Oppression, and Student Life

I was at the IJM website earlier this morning and found a couple bits of wisdom worth hanging on to:

• Consider excelling in your studies to be your primary way of serving and glorifying God as a student.
• Fighting injustice and oppression in the world...requires sacrifice, hard work, [pursuing] downward mobility in which you choose to serve the poor at the expense of becoming rich.