Review

So, what happened this summer?  We managed to skip all that.

Glad you asked.

IJM brought 16 interns to headquarters, ranging in age from 19 to 38.  It was challenging and it was heavy; it was thrilling and it was invigorating.

At IJM HQ there are sixteen cubicles in two parallel rows of eight known as "Intern Row."

 

Check out the view from my desk!  There were hardly words, folks...hardly words.  Sometimes workmen would come out onto that roof to tinker with all those contraptions.  We passed many an hour narrating the conversations we assumed they were having.

This was, for most, our indoctrination into the world of cubicles and 9-5 stints.  The transition was successful, though not without hiccups: a makeshift hop scotch board may have been laid in duct tape on Intern Row,

and general insanity may have ensued when meetings ran long and walls began to close in.

We got out of the office together, too, and were known to be seen around Capitol Hill at places like Good Stuff Eatery (please feel free to airmail me some of those herbed fries)

and Friday evening Jazz in the Park.

ROAD TRIP

IJM's Five Weeks for Freedom Tour kept us busy.  Fifteen ordinary people gave up five weeks of their lives to bike from Mobile, AL to Buffalo, NY.

They followed the trail of the Underground Railroad as they raised awareness about modern day slavery and abolition.  (What would the world be like if one child from every kindergarten class in this generation wanted to be an abolitionist when they grew up?)  The tour included a stop in Columbus, Ohio at Ohio State University, and the interns road tripped there.  We stopped in Pittsburgh both ways, where we stayed at Ngofeen's apartment.  When we woke the first morning morning we had a few hours before we were expected in Columbus, so we rented kayaks on the Allegheny River.

First we went through paddle training.

Then we went up the river.  Tim and Ivan were stellar paddlers.

The view was beautiful!  We went under a few bridges like this one.

HyeJi and I decided that Tim and Ivan weren't getting quite the cardiovascular challenge they'd desired, so we hitched a ride.

Nerves were frayed by the end of the trip.  Exhibit A:

DINNER

Toward the end of the summer IJM President and CEO Gary Haugen and his family hosted the interns in their home for dinner.

It was scrumptious.  The Haugens were gracious to field two hours' worth of our questions on life, love, and Dostoevsky.

CONCERT

Somewhere along the way, those of us with musical backgrounds got roped into giving an end-of-the-summer concert.  This performance included everything from didgeridoo and violin to guitars and Selah renditions.  First, though, came rehearsals on street corners.

Here's a sample:

What we're giggling over and passing around is a phonetic spelling of Selah's Swahili rendition of "Pass Me Not, Oh Gentle Savior," scrawled by yours truly on a post-it note.  When Clariee in Steel Magnolias proclaimed, "Weezuh!  You have the handwritin' of a serial killuh!" she was thinking of me.

Resemblance?  See it?  James is totally the next Gary Haugen.













THIS SUPPOSEDLY HAPPENED AT SOME POINT

But I have little recollection.


ALL IN ALL

It was the best summer of my life.  If someone you know is interested in interning for IJM, send them here!

It’s only the other side of the world.

The longer I’m here in South Asia, the more I am taken by how much of life here is no different than in America.  For years I’ve used the phrase “the other side of the world” to convey novelty; exotic, untested waters.  Now that I’m here, I cannot use the phrase the same way.

One event strikingly similar to home is church choir practice.  Rehearsals are held in the sanctuary.   Here’s a clip from my first night.  (No, I did not in any way look suspicious panning the room with my iPhone from the middle of the soprano section.)

One difference here from choir practice at home is the added chai break.  Midway through each rehearsal church assistants bring in chai in small clay cups, accompanied by a hot baked snack.  Everyone breaks for about ten minutes, milling around and catching up. 

During my first chai break I was approached by an older man in the choir.  He asked me if I sang gospel music.  I could hardly believe my ears.  “Gospel like the modern progression of spirituals?” I asked.  “Oh yes,” he said.  “We love to sing negro spirituals.”  Really?!  Really.  Barely containing my glee, I told him that I was familiar with the genre.  He told me that he was part of a three-man gospel group that was looking for a female to round out a quartet.  I told him he’d found her.

A few days later I attended my first Asian gospel quartet rehearsal.  It was swell.  More to come on that front.

Church

About a month ago (hmm…around the last time I blogged…sorry about that) I visited a local Anglican church for Sunday morning worship in one of the city’s oldest sanctuaries.

 

I enjoyed the service immensely.  The homily was given by an elderly British man who reminded me of C.S. Lewis, and the recession hymn was The Battle Hymn of the Republic.  I love that hymn.  I’m always taken by the fourth verse:

“As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.”

Some churches sing “let us live to make men free” instead, which does make sense.  Few of us are out in search of martyrdom.  But here in South Asia— and around the globe— IJM investigators do risk their lives to make men free, following after the Biblical call to justice, compassion, and rescue.

I keep with me a recording of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s address at the Great March on Detroit, June 23, 1963; two months before the March on Washington.  The speech is famous for its “I have a dream” refrains.  Less remembered are King’s remarks just before articulating his dream:

“I do not want to give you the impression that it's going to be easy.  There can be no great social gain without individual pain.  Before the victory for brotherhood is won, some will have to get scarred up a bit.  Before the victory is won, some more will be thrown into jail.  Before the victory is won, some like Medgar Edgars may have to taste physical death, but if physical death is the price that some must pay to free their children and their white brothers from an eternal psychological death, then nothing can be more redemptive.”

We’re not aiming for death over here, and by God’s grace IJM has brought justice to more than 15,000 people in its thirteen-year history without a single life lost.  Danger is nevertheless a glaring reality, and it is good for us to remember.  As Dr. King noted, the reward is worth the risk.

Anyhow, I like the hymn.

At its end I rose to leave, and as I rose a middle-aged woman approached me.  She introduced herself as the rector’s wife and took me to meet him.  While we walked toward the narthex she asked me if I sang.  I told her I’d had some training, but was mighty rusty.  Next thing I knew I had committed to singing in the choir and in some Christmas concert, tea with her later that week, and who knows what else.  This lady moved fast.

Our tea went well, and the choir has been great fun.  Stay tuned for scenes from rehearsal.

Gee whiz, was I ever homesick on election day!

"Let me begin tonight by acknowledging a simple but profound truth:

We are all children of a powerful and great God.

Things are not always going to end up the way you want.

His will is not always going to be yours.

But I promise you this:

No matter what you face in life, he will give you the strength to go through it.

I bear witness to that tonight as so many of you do in your own lives.

And it must always be acknowledged in everything we do and in everywhere we go."

U.S. Senator-elect Marco Rubio

3 November 2010