Final Thoughts

I have been home for about a month...three weeks actually. Only three weeks. Three incredibly long weeks. The week I got back, the chaos immediately ensued. Internship (aka my other job) began, work resumed, class began, and the catch-up started with my family and friends. I was instantly consumed with my life all over again. And, I was frustrated.

I have had several things that stand out to me since I have been home. The first is the world of excess. When I got home, there was food in my fridge that had spoiled while I was gone. I almost vomited, not because of the mold, but rather because of the waste. It made me so lonesome for a place where things are valued and where each day and each meal is a gift and is celebrated for being such.

The second struggle is with my job. I work with persons experiencing homelessness. The persons that I see each day are living deep in American poverty. I talk with my participants about their natural resources and about what things they bring to the table in order to develop a plan for permanent sustainable housing. Teasing out resources and validating their resources is a big part of my day. It is often, however, that participants will note that they don't have any natural resources that they can contribute. In the past, I have not always agreed, but have understood. After all, the trauma of poverty is pervasive. Now, I look at these same situations in a whole new light-and recognize the amount of resource that is actually present in all of us-simply due to being a US citizen. It has really been difficult for me to be around persons living in poverty (as defined by United States standards) since I have been back. I have rarely struggled with empathy and with engagement, and yet I can now feel myself judging, critiquing, and comparing the two situations...and wanting to scream out..."If you only knew!!!" I have really struggled to maintain my professionalism and to maintain the moment of the participant's story without reflecting back to my own experience in El Salvador. It is really difficult.

Another struggle for me has been my story. So many people have asked me about my trip. I struggle to answer this. What do you say? What is the correct way to sum up the experience in 45 seconds or less-and, of course, making sure to make it meaningful to the audience at hand?? How do you tell the story without destroying it? The last thing I want to do is romanticize the struggle, the oppression, and the impact of restorative justice...yet to be silent is an insult! I have felt really trapped by this. I feel that I don't have the words to accurately sum up the experiences into something that doesn't do a disservice to those with whom I interacted. How does one express the passion and the tension of standing in solidarity? I continue to work through this.

Finally, this trip was not a mission trip and was not tied to a particular faith. However, before I left for the trip I asked my God to open me to the experience, to allow me to see things that have not been seen and to allow my heart to be broken as many times as needed to be able to bear witness to the struggle. I claim this trip as a blessing. I understand now that without entering into the pain and the injustice, I would never be able to appreciate the bittersweet legacy that comes from restorative justice and from peace. So, I celebrate the struggle-knowing that I am a changed person. And, I thank God for the opportunity to be uncomfortable, because now I know what true solidarity is. It was written on the faces, seen in the work of the hands, and left in the footprints of the Salvadoran people.