Lenten Rememberings – Somalia

P1350026 Today we remember Somalia. This country on the horn of Africa is the world’s third largest source of refugees . According to the UNHCR, a third generation of Somalians are being born in exile. Nearly three decades of civil war, border clashes, fighting clans, and famine have practically bankrupted the economy. Over one million Somalians are refugees in nearby countries such as Kenya, Ethiopia and Yemen while many more remain displaced within Somalia. Most of them rely on foreign aid for the most basic of needs such as food, health care and water. While nearly 100,000 Somalian Refugees have entered the US in the last 6 years, the current Travel Ban is prohibiting any more from entering at this time.

It was hard to reconcile the delightful flavors of Surbiyaan, a Somalian Rice and Chicken dish that we ate with a Caulifower Curry, with the harsh realities of what life is like for those who remain in Somalia. We wrapped up our meal with Quadret Qadar, which means made by a miracle, which seems fitting for this country in dire need of a miracle.

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Lenten Feast – Tibet

Tibetan Lenten Feast

For Lent this year, we are remembering other people from around the world by eating food from their country and praying for refugees and other marginalized people from these nations.

Last evening we shared a small Tibetan feast. Our youngest son did a bit of research and shared it with us later in the evening by candlelight during our family Lenten tradition of loadshedding. We learned together that ethnic Tibetan young people are leaving Tibet in large numbers because of the lack of educational opportunities.

Until quite recently the Tibetan food consisted of a subsistence diet of meat and dairy with very few spices and vegetables. Many refugees from Tibet have moved to India and not surprisingly, their cuisine has grown a bit spicier and a bit richer.

The meatball curry dish we tried was Shabril and you can find a recipe here. The cabbage dish was Baistaa and here is the recipe.

40 Days

Miller Family

What would you do if you had 40 days left to live?

I would gather my family and friends a little closer and let them know how much they have blessed my life. I would say “I love you” much more often. I would spend more time on Facebook so that I could know a little more about the lives of my friends. I would tell them, every chance I could, how amazing they are. I would savor rich, dark chocolate and give thanks for the farmers who can care for both the crop and their families because they are paid a fair wage.  And while I sip my morning cup of freshly roasted coffee I would wrap myself in a Kantha and pray with tear-filled eyes for the women whose stories are stitched into these colorful saris and for the many more women who are still waiting for hope to come to them. I would wear a piece of fair trade jewelry and laugh for the joy of the fact that a woman’s life has forever changed by this simple act of love and dignity. I would fill the table with love and spices and I would share and love and share some more. I would stop my day’s work a little sooner and stress less about the profit and loss report. I would stand in awe, in a world of snow and build a snowman with my son. In our imaginative fun, we would save the world from bad guys and maybe, just maybe, in real life he would realize he is a hero too. I would take in the joy and the fullness of the life I have. At the end of each day, I would gather my family around, turn off the lights, put away the electronics, light some candles and give thanks.

Savor. Remember. Enjoy. Love. Speak. Hug. Cry. Laugh.

And they would be the 40 best days of my life.

Lent. Celebration. Life.

“Loadshedding” and Lent

CandlelightLent is a bit foreign to me. It’s not something practiced in my home as a child. In fact, I was an adult before I really heard about it. The usual things I hear that people give up for Lent – coffee, chocolate, sweets, meat, Facebook, etc. don’t really jive for me. I’m glad if it works for them, but for me it has felt like a drudgery, reminiscent of periods of my life that brought more harm than good to my soul. I’ve tried, for a couple years now, to add something to my life during lent, instead of taking something away. This year caught me off guard and I realized that Lent had already started without my giving it a second thought. I don’t want to do something just to “do something”. It must have meaning or it won’t last more than a couple of days.

So the other day, during my morning coffee, I remembered a phase of our life in Bangladesh, when the power would go off every evening for about an hour.  At first it was source of great frustration, then we began to expect it and almost look forward to it. We would be forced to stop what we were doing, gather around in the dark and talk together as a family. No electronics. No work to distract. Just sit in the dark. Together. We would talk about what we missed from home and what we loved about our new host country. We would remember, laugh, share sadness and embrace hope.

I got to thinking about “load-shedding”, the term given to those periods of power outage. There was not enough electrical power for everyone, so section of the city would take turns doing without, so someone else could have power and the whole system would not become overtaxed. Why not practice load-shedding for lent? It might be a little quirky but I must say it is meaningful to me. Maybe it will last more than a couple of days. After all, if we give up anything at all, wouldn’t it be so much more meaningful if it actually helped someone else?

After dinner and dishes, we turn off the lights, set our electronic devices aside and light a few candles. The furnace is turned low so it won’t run and we sit in our quiet house and share stories. We remember the past. We go on rabbit trails in the present. We laugh. We tell more stories.

Then we shift our focus, because this whole “load-shedding” idea is not just about us having warm and happy memories. We talk about others who are carrying a load and need help to carry that load. Sitting in the quiet glow of a few candles, we pray for them. We carry their loads in our hearts. We love. We share. Stories from China, Korea, Bangladesh and Egypt surface. We remember that the world is big. We remember that God is good. We remember that human greed has corrupted the abundance that was meant to be. We remind ourselves that the story is not yet over, that there is still abundance to be had. And we set our hearts to live lives of generous hope.

-Marita Miller