Love is a decision.

Sometimes it’s really really easy to love people. And sometimes it’s really really hard to love people. I thank God for those times when it’s hard to love people. Why? Because Christ calls us to love others. He doesn’t say we have to like them all, but we have to love them. I believe we are called to love others the way God loves us. Unconditionally, and with compassion. My wise parents have shared with me over the years that love is not a feeling, but a decision. You choose to love someone even when it’s hard. And many times, the hardest person for us to love is ourselves. In this idea lies the question, how can you fully love others if you can’t love yourself?

 

Let’s take the word content. I believe that feeling content equates to feeling whole. For example, right now I am extremely content eating this delicious gluten free brownie sitting at an adorable coffee shop writing this blog post. With this feeling of content, what I have right now, where I am right now, who I am right now, is enough. I am enough. Being content with what we have at this present moment allows us to fully love another person.

 

*Disclaimer: I wish I could say I came up with this idea by some divine intervention late one night, but I must give credit to a dear friend of mine for sharing with me this beautiful message of what it means to unconditionally love others.

What strikes me about this idea of love as a decision is something I heard this past weekend at mass. The gospel was the classic “Loaves and Fishes” parable, but Fr. Graham, the resident Jesuit priest (I knew there was a reason I liked him the moment I met him) took it a step further explaining that the little boy’s decision to share, his decision to love Jesus was the root of the miracle in feeding thousands. This little boy made a decision to give a small piece of food to Jesus, and in this small act of kindness, he nourished countless people. Until last week, I never thought of this parable as an act of love, and as I sat in that small chapel, I began to realize that I was surrounded by small acts of love abroad.

Living in a house with 20 people means that sometimes it’s hard to love everyone all the time. But it also means that I am continually surrounded by people who are willing to love me even when I’m obnoxious, when I’m silly, and when I go to bed at 10pm. I am especially grateful for their considerate actions in keeping their voices down when I sleep. They are so good to me. Living in K-House has showed me the value of community and content-ness with these small acts of kindness: a knowing smile, a hug, cleaning the community kitchen, making food that is gluten free to share all make this place feel like home. More than ever before, I am seeing God in those around me and I feel His love radiating through the actions of others, and I couldn’t be more content.

So I challenge you to ask yourself, what makes you feel content? And who will you decide to love today?

 

I love you for reading,

Blessings,

Maddie

Just call me Madeline.

For as long as I can remember, my name has been Maddie. I’ve reminded teacher upon teacher, bosses, and government agencies that it’s Maddie, not Madeline. I should preface that I don’t not like the name Madeline, I’ve simply become accustomed to my nickname, so much so I don’t consider it even as such. But something has happened abroad that’s made me put this certainty into question. At my service placement, I introduced myself as Maddie right off the bat, but in the span of 3 hours the women were calling me Madeline without hesitation. And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t correct them. It was something about the way they said it, or the way I heard it that was different. With this name I was accepted into their community with open arms. They said it with a smile, and when I gently reminded them that I also went by Maddie, they smirked and said, “Okay Madeline!” I smiled back, and that was that. Madeline it was, and will be.

 

It may be because I associate this long, more formal name with growing up that I was so hesitant to answer to it. And maybe that means that I was am afraid of growing up. Not because of the responsibility, I think that reason went out the window when I decided to travel to a foreign country 8,000 miles away, but because I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. Yes, I know I’m 20, and I don’t need to and shouldn’t know, but sometimes a girl just wants to have it all figured out. I remember fondly, the words of my dad when he told me “Maddie, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.” I believe he is spot on in that God’s plan is just that. It’s not our plan, it’s not what we want, but what we need. And I’m not about to mess with the big man on that, I just wish that He would sometimes give me a hint or two.

 

Though I’ve only been here a month, I’ve seen God in so many people, places, and things, and I can’t help but think He’s dropping hints all over the place. This year, after a lot of thought, I had become resolute in my decision not to go to graduate school for psychology. Which is why I was so taken aback by my unmasked excitement when I heard I would be working with in-take patients for the women’s shelter I am serving at while in Cape Town. I could barely hold back the huge smile that crept across my face when my supervisor told me I would get to assess the women seeking shelter and refuge, and that I could potentially counsel them along the way. “I get to do what??” I thought to myself as my mind began to race a million miles a minute. I couldn’t contain myself I was so intrigued.

 

Then I thought to myself, “Crap. I thought this wasn’t for me. Now what do I do?” I find myself torn between a career filled with physical and emotional burnout, that of a social worker, advocate, or psychologist, in which I think would be immensely fulfilling, and a career in University or Alumni Relations, a job I absolutely love working in right now, but I worry wouldn’t give me the right kind of life fulfillment I seek. And these are two very different paths. I know I can’t go wrong with either, but how do I choose? Do I even have to choose? And why can’t God just send down a huge bolt of lightening and imprint the answer right in front of me? I don’t think these questions will be answered immediately, and right now I’m not sure I could see the answer if it was dangled right in front of me. And I am okay with that. In fact, I don’t think I would have it any other way. I will admit I came into abroad thinking I would gain clarity in what I wanted to devote my life to, yet my experience so far has raised far more questions than it has answered. And I think that’s exactly what I need, to keep questioning, to keep growing, and to keep listening to God in all of this.

 

The only thing I’m certain about is the impact I want to make on this world while I’m on it. I want people to see how truly loved and cared for they are. I want to show people, through my actions, God’s unconditional love for his sons and daughters. I am continually striving to live out Christ’s message of selflessness and compassion. If, when I die, that it was people remember me for, I will have lived a full life. In short, if there was a job title “Loving people because they’re awesome” I would apply in a heart beat.

 

To think this all started with the women at work calling me Madeline. It seems as though when we accept new things, when we creep just a little outside of our comfort zone, we start to hear God more fully. We start to realize that He was there all along, and we just need to perk our ears up to listen.

 

Blessings for now,

Madeline

20 years later

In today’s South Africa, the topic of race-its stereotypes and its consequences, is essential to the culture. Though the Apartheid ended in 1994 with the election of Nelson Mandela, 20 years later people practice this separation between races as if these laws are still in effect. I had heard before leaving for Cape Town that the apartheid was still informally practiced, and I thought I had braced myself for the occasional mention of it. But the world I found myself thrust into seemed to be engulfed in the issue of racial equality with so many still fighting for equal rights, for the opportunity to succeed. Some cling to their ancestor’s heritage, language, and culture, but a majority of people in the Cape have begun to adopt a new, Westernized way of living in hopes of a better life. Most all classes are taught in English, with students working incredibly hard to learn the language of “freedom” from poverty and injustice.

Upon visiting a school in one of the townships just outside Cape Town, I was told by the 4th grade history teacher how essential fluency of the English language was to success here in SA. She described the harsh reality of job discrimination based on one’s ability to read, speak, and write English. With an unemployment rate of almost 40%, and as an up and coming developing country, the woman explained, these students need an education that will make them valuable members to the nation. And just in the last 3 weeks here I have seen countless school age kids kept home and out of schools due to a list of reasons longer than I can bear to imagine. Transportation, safety, gang violence, absent parents, illness, homelessness, and poverty just to name a few.

The issue of education, however, is not the only barrier keeping South Africa’s people from success. As previously mentioned, the “natural” separation of races is blatant in and on the outskirts of the city as townships (a collection of shacks or small crowded homes) house the impoverished-a majority of whom are Coloured and Black. Because of the lack of affordable housing, food services, shelters, and advocacy agencies, many of those oppressed during the apartheid populate these townships, while the oppressors live in beautiful homes tucked away in the suburbs of Cape Town. There is virtually no middle class with a staggering gap between the rich and poor. Though the issue of race and poverty is much more complex than I have laid it out to be, its pervasive impact on this nation was made clear to me last week when I was invited into a township for lunch.

My service placement is just outside the township of Mananberg, or so aptly nicknamed by the locals as “Murderberg” (don’t freak out mom and dad I promise I’m super safe!). While at my service placement, my supervisor invited another volunteer and I over to her house for lunch. She told us she had taken other volunteers who were white to her house multiple times before when we asked about safety. My friend and I were hesitant but curious, so we accepted the invitation. After leaving the gated compound of the shelter, we were suddenly immersed into a whole new world different from any part of Cape Town I had been in. I had become accustomed to being the foreigner from America, getting a few looks here and there on the streets by our house, but in no way was I prepared to be the spectacle I had become in that township. Not once did I ever feel unsafe or threatened that day-everyone was incredibly welcoming. But to use the words of my friend Quin who was with me that day, I felt like a zoo animal. Everyone seemed to be shocked and confused as to why we were there with our supervisor, Siba. I got comment after comment about how beautiful my white skin and brown hair was-especially about how white my skin was. Cars slowed down to look at us, little kids playing in the street stopped to yell “Molo Mulungos” to us, meaning “Hello White people!” in Xhosa. Never before have I experienced such interest in my race. Though I didn’t realized it then, I was seeing the lasting effects of the apartheid, and I was shocked. I’ve been told that growth happens when you are comfortable with being uncomfortable. And in those moments I was definitely uncomfortable. But I am seeing more and more how the apartheid ravaged this country, and instead of feeling guilty for being a white American, this experience has sparked something in me to want to know more. I want to learn how I can help, how I can be in solidarity with those still experiencing the oppression of the apartheid. I know I will continue to learn and grow in my time here. And I hope by sharing these stories with others, something is sparked in them.

Enkosi (thank you) for reading. More to come soon.

When it rains, it pours.

Molo Ungani!

For those reading last week still wondering how to convert to Celsius, all I know is that 200 Celsius is around 375 Fahrenheit. The rest is all strictly guess by trial and error. So basically it takes anywhere from 30 to 70 minutes to roast veggies…we like to keep it interesting.

This week I began classes at UWC. It didn’t dawn on me until halfway to the University that is was in fact my last first day of classes of my college career. Wow. How lucky am I to spend such a monumental moment in a foreign country the most beautiful place I have ever been to. Though I have only been here a little over a week, I have already begun to fall in love with the city and its people.

The sky on my first day at UWC. A good start to a great year.

 

Class will certainly be different, and I feel like a freshman again not knowing where any of my classes are-but just as a freshman learns it’s not cool to wear their lanyards around their neck, I too will learn to fit in. I don’t feel like an outsider because of my race, though UWC was founded for coloured students in the Cape, but for my nationality. Being American here is such a foreign concept to many- I blend in until I open my mouth. The professors are vibrant and brimming with pride of what they teach, eager for students to ask questions and open a dialogue.

One of my classes at UWC focuses on the history of change within South Africa in the destruction of the apartheid only 20 years ago. As an American, I know little about the huge impact this movement had on the country, and greater world communities as a whole, and I am so ready to learn how and why the apartheid ended through the leadership of Nelson Mandela. My second class at UWC is a topics in world theatre class taught by a crazy, eccentric, model-esque professor who is “throwing us into the deep end without floaties” for our first few weeks which are packed with field trips to plays around Cape Town. And I am loving every second of it.

Outside of the classroom this week, I experienced the beauty of the beaches here in the Western Cape, touching both the Indian and Atlantic Oceans within 24 of each other. We started with Muizenberg where I tried my hand at surfing. Though I face planted frequently, 72 degree weather in winter makes for a brilliant day regardless.

Muizenberg beach with Lion’s Peak in the distance.

Proof of my wild adventure!

 

This beach day was followed up by an afternoon in Camps Bay, an upper class area filled with nice restaurants and shops teaming with lighter skinned and white people. Strikingly different from Muizenberg and most of the Western Cape. It seems as though every part of this province works and flows differently day to day, person to person. Regardless, the beach was beautiful and I spent the day in good company and with a lot of laughter.

Camps Day at Dusk

Keeping on the adventurous outdoors theme, our whole house+ friends we have met along the way climbed Devil’s Peak this weekend- one of the 3 major peaks in Cape Town with absolutely spectacular views along the way and at the top. I’ve been told these hikes are times that the divine reaches you. To say I experienced God on this hike is an understatement. With every step toward the top I felt more and more in touch with God, looking at the vast expanse of Cape Town into the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. How could this all have been created just by chance?

K-House at it again! All 20 of us made it up the mountain!

The goodness in you is the goodness in me.

This thought extended to Sunday evening when a group of us ventured out to Catholic Mass on the University of Cape Town’s Campus. As soon as I walked in I was brought back to the SCU 9pm mass feeling right at home. Even in a foreign country thousands of miles away, I had a piece of home right there with me. To participate in mass surrounded by strangers all praying with me was an experience I will never forget. I have found my community for the next 4 months. We were welcomed in with open arms and walked home after by new friends willing to go just a little farther to make sure we got back safely. If I don’t call that a warm welcome to South Africa, I don’t know what is!

Despite the rain that certainly rivals Portland’s downpours, we have survived with a few minor scratches-a blown off door and leaks the worst of it. That hasn’t stopped us from exploring all Cape Town has to offer with it’s amazing markets filled with….GLUTEN FREE BREAD. Yes, folks, I have found the bread of my people and it has never tasted so sweet. Along with bread, the stands range from Dim Sum to fresh juice with everything in between.

This week has been one of enlightenment and growth in so many ways. I cannot wait to see where this journey takes me.

Our house is learning Xhosa, the language of many Black Africans in South Africa. Our RA is graciously putting up with our botching of “hello” and “how are you” while we are still far from mastering the many tongue clicks of the language. Who knew there were three different ways to say the letters X, Q, and C?? For now though, Hamba kakuhle (go well).

 

Where are we? how do I convert to Celsius? and other probing questions

  

This week has been filled with many firsts and new adventures. After a quick 30 hour journey, we arrived in Cape Town Sunday night with only a few bumps and bruises.

After a few hours of sleep we were up the next morning to see the US Consulate in Cape Town. This country has such a complex relationship with the United States, and I had no idea.

Tuesday was comprised of a visit to Parliament with beautiful buildings and welcoming people. The affect of Nelson Mandela’s leadership in South Africa, Cape Town especially was evident as people talked about him and even more so by the huge bust of him just recently put in front of the Parliament building.

Wednesday was spent at the University of the Western Cape- a college first founded for the coloured students in the Cape, and the hub of the revolution to end the apartheid. This University has a rich history of innovation and student triumph. Just looking around me, I am NOT in Santa Clara anymore. The university boasts a campus multiple times bigger than SCU with a spiraling library 14 floors high.

Thursday we continued to adventure around, and just a quick walk down the street reveals a breath taking view of one of the many mountains just outside of the city.

Devil’s peak

That evening we were invited to a traditional African dinner comprised of Ostrich, Boar, Ox Tail, Sheep Stomach, and less exciting things such as pork, spinach, and rice. It was one of the best meals I have had here. With the live music and authentic sharing of the wine at the end of the meal, I felt immensely welcomed into this city and the culture. Everyone is incredibly welcoming and so wiling to share their country and all it has to offer with new arrivals. 

 

Friday marks the best/worst hike of my life, with 14 of us attempting the hardest hike up Table Mountain-skeleton’s gorge. After climbing 100s of dirt and rock stairs, scaling a waterfall, and climbing up 4 wooden ladders, 3 hours later we made it to the summit and experienced the most beautiful views I have ever seen. A 360 degree view of the coast of Cape Town 4,000 feet up. The 3 hour trek was worth it in every sense of the journey. I think I’ve found my place here at Cape Town in the mountains. 

Saturday continued the excitement with a trip to the market called Old Biscuit Mill full of fresh produce, local food and crafts, and wonderfully inviting people. The food there was unbelievable and was so rich with culture. This place was a Saturday market on steroids, and I loved every second of it. Finally, Saturday evening a group of us went to a rugby game in town. Rugby is like the United State’s football and it was AWESOME. So much excitement, and though we had no idea what was going on, there were plenty of locals willing to explain every play to us. This evening made me fall even more in love with the city I am living in. I am exhausted, sore, and bruised. But in the best possible way. 

 

More to come soon!

Bags packed. Ready for my 3am wake up call.

Tomorrow marks the start of my journey to Cape Town! If all goes as planned I get there in one piece I will begin my 5 month stay in Cape Town, South Africa. The land of beautiful people and even more stunning scenery. Right on the coast and full of life!

Along with attending University of the Western Cape (UWC), I will have the chance to volunteer twice a week at the Saartjie Baartman center for women and children, a domestic violence and abuse shelter. I have no expectations, and am ready to try anything and everything (as long as it’s gluten-free…). Feel free to email me: mmregan@scu.edu, or Facebook me. If you’re feeling adventurous I am a wonderful pen pale! My address abroad is:

Marquette U. South Africa Service Learning Program                                  

P.O. Box 178                                                                                                            

Observatory 7935                                                                                  

Cape Town, South Africa

Here’s to the next 5 months of exploring and service!