Coming Back Up for Air

June 2, 2016
And so here it is. After years of not writing, and trying to juggle, and having something to say, but what has felt like no time to say it, I am blogging again.

It feels good.

I had one of those days today. One of those inspiring, soul affirming, yes I am in the right job and place and calling and at the right moment, types of days. Isn’t that amazing? How often does that happen? It’s been a while for me.

I got to attend CARE’s Gender Equity and Diversity Training yesterday and today, and it was amazing. I felt like I was in my own skin and soul, exploring topics and using skills and muscles that I was meant to use. It felt like home. Then I got to have dinner (and even drinks,) with a like-minded colleague to strategize through how we could bring this to our own organization, FHI 360. It felt like I had a comrade in the fight, and one who shares my optimism and enthusiasm for the journey. How lucky am I.

This, combined with getting to go to the Women Deliver Conference in Copenhagen recently and connect with my dear friend Ann, getting to spend 36 hours in France and reconnect with my friend Stephanie (and even have 8 hours to myself tromping through Paris,) and helping to plan and prepare for the big 2 day Gender Summit that we’re hosting at FHI 360 on June 15-16 in partnership with global south organizations and youth ambassadors from around the world, and the recent open-heart conversation with my husband Mark and our mutual recommitment to better communication, has helped me to reconnect to myself in deep ways. 

This feels like the Elise Young that I know…like the Elise Young that I like.

I Believe

It is confusing in these moments. With a gigantic work report looming, the complications of a messy potential house purchase weighing, the heartache of Ellie's separation anxiety pressing and the excitement and stress of Mark's new job at Year Up competing, it is hard to know what is what. Where to put my mental, physical and emotional energy? How to preserve my sleep, sanity and self? How to step up and lead where I am needed. How to give control and expectations over to God.

I was fortunate enough to get to go with my mom to a women's retreat that my church, Foundry UMC, sponsored this past weekend. It centered and restored me in so many ways. It was a gift. It reminded me of what I believe, of who I am. I am a resurrection person. I believe in rebirth and in potential. I know that with God all things are possible. This includes God and spirit manifested in other people. I believe that love is possible at every turn, even in the midst of data analysis...or business deals...or taking out the trash. It doesn't need to be as hard as I make it sometimes. We are all connected. We are all one. I believe. I believe.

A Poem for the Weary Hearted

It's been a rough last week...health wise, sleep wise, work wise. My 19 month daughter has quantum leaped into a new realm of teething and responding to everything with an emphatic 'NO!' The thoughtful work-life balance mantras and resolutions that I had carefully constructed over the holidays quickly came tumbling down (only 7 days into the new year;)

To tell you the truth, I was feeling a little beaten up by life this week. And then, three important things happened. First, I got to attend a new spirituality small group meeting and just sit and be within prayer and meditation. Next, I got to try out for the show The Voice, despite cosmic forces trying to hold me back. Third, i met myself at the bottom wrung of the ladder, wrestled with the angel, and realized that I know how to climb.

And so, I wrote a poem to remind myself. Life is a choice. Creation is a choice.

A Poem for the Weary Hearted by Elise Young

Through the rubble

Strewn with intentions

Covered in lessons learned

And growth feedback

Seaping with sins

I search for pieces

That I can tie together into shiny new colorful bracelets

Glue together with pruning hooks

Share and sell to the world as recycled gold

Show them that out of the wreckage has come something new

Do they not perceive it?

Even if it is messy

And sticks you with its pointy edges

And warps the way you see the world

It is creation

And therefore good

WHAT'S A BIRTHDAY REALLY MEAN

A link to my Women Thrive blog post on what turning one year older means to me in the context of Haiti.

http://womenthrive.org/blog/whats-birthday-really-mean

Keeping it Real

It is hard to know when you are right and when you are wrong in this crazy, over educated, over professional, over experienced DC world. Everyone has the right answer, and yet, few people seem to agree. 

Take gender equality. What does it take to achieve it? How do you reform aid in ways that equally empower both women and men to take ownership of their community's development? Train both women and men at the ground level...in DC...or both? Fight some of the large contractors and businesses and government bureaucracy? Or create bridges between people and systems and companies, no matter how flawed they are? How do you stay true to mission and values - really prioritize and amplify the voices of women and men in the struggle and follow their lead - and build new alliances that have the power to advance real change? 

And the most important question: how do you stay human - human to the core, to the bone, to the marrow - as you try to stay professional and policy savvy? Is it even possible? I think so. I need to believe so. Because even more important to me than advancing certain policies, being right about an advocacy strategy or delivering on grant indicators is caring about people on a human level. There are no numbers, no data. Only individual, precious, valued human beings.

That's why I struggle in this job, in this field...intl dev policy. It
is so theoretical...so process oriented. It is all about what the
policy looks like on paper, how the log frame or results framework
holds up, how we deliver on indicators. And although part of me really
gets that...is even obsessed with that at times...it does not fully
satisfy. It seems to rarely be about individual human beings...their
stories, their priorities, their voices.

I guess advocacy, for me, serves as the  bridge. It connects the
individual, precious human beings on this planet - their needs, their
voices - to the decisions that get written down in laws, policies and
evaluations. It makes the theoretical real. It makes the statistic
human.

Until we can connect to this inside the beltway DC intl Dev work on a
personal level, on a human level, we will continue to miss our mark.
It is not just a marketing tactic to make it real for our
constituents. For me, it is an urgent marching order: see the human
side if this, connect your heart to ending poverty and injustice. And do it soon, before the theoretical world takes over.

Juggling It All

I have been wanting to write for so long now. But, there never seems to be time. Never time to sit a moment and process…what it means to be a VP, what it means to be a mother, what it means to be this new person playing so many roles at once. And so, I feel a little rusty, as I sit here with my computer on my lap, trying to squeeze in a quick entry on my metro ride home.

Mark had a brilliant idea several months ago. Each of us would get one night a week to do whatever we wanted to do and the other person would put Ellie to bed. And tonight is my night. I did something with it that I haven’t done in what feels like a long time, but that has always brought me such happiness: I played softball. I got one hit, made one or two plays at third base, but overall it wasn’t my best game. (I am 2 years out of practice, after all.) Yet, it felt so good to just be that old self yet again…free, fearless, with as much time in the world as I needed. So, even though it was cold, windy and rainy; even though we lost by at least 8 runs; even though I didn’t get to see my sweet baby girl tonight, I feel good.

It’s not easy having to make these choices. Do I stay at work and get even a fraction of my to do list done, or do I go home and have dinner with my family and then stay up late? Do I wake up early to work more on the grant, even though I’ll have only had 4 or 5 hours of sleep, or do I cancel a much needed meeting? (Because not doing the grant isn’t an option.) Do I go to my women’s group from church and have some desperately needed prayer and fellowship time in order to regroup spiritually, or do I nurse my daughter to sleep? Do I sneak in a work out for my physical/emotional health, or do I pay the bills? (for my financial health;)

It’s so difficult to figure out these choices most days. The days fly by. I’ve chosen to devote my time at home to Ellie and Mark. When I walk in the door, I try desperately to leave it all behind. I want to be present to them. I want to gaze into my daughters’ eyes and catch the small details of her growing up and know her on this cellular level. I don’t want to be distracted. But, it means giving up so much else…like cooking, cleaning, meditating, journaling, guitar playing, mowing the lawn, watering the flowers, cleaning out the fridge, doing the laundry, going through the mail or sitting down for a moment to ask myself, ‘what just happened today?’ I have to learn at the speed of light. I can’t sit around and focus on how I’m feeling about something that didn’t go my way. I have to let go, let go, let go.

In certain ways, this is a good thing. It means cutting out all of the dead branches in my life. It means only holding onto the parts that are blooming. Right now, that means my daughter. It means my husband. It means my family and closest friends. It means this job and important opportunity at Women Thrive. And it means my church, prayer and spiritual life. If I can accomplish that - if I can stay focused on what is really important and let go of everything else; if I can give myself grace, allow myself to make mistakes, grow, be human - it will be enough. Here's my prayer to God and the universe to help me accomplish this: I believe. Help my unbelief.

Meeting the Wind

I was overwhelmed with gratitude today. Standing by the Patuxent River on a gorgeous October evening, I looked out across the water. Golden light filtered down to the opposite shore, showing off the early autumn colors. I held my 4 month old daughter close to my heart and just delighted in what I heard. She was laughing.

Laughing is a new and growing part of her small world right now. She's just discovered it within the last few weeks. Yet, there she was this evening, laughing at the wind. I realized that it was probably the first time she had ever felt real wind. It delighted her. She threw her head back, opened her mouth and tasted it. And then she laughed from a deep place in her belly and just reveled. Every time the wind picked up...even though it brought a chill in the air...she just chuckled. And then she looked at me with those amazing blue eyes and full face smile (she gets it from her Dad,) as if to say, 'Isn't it perfect, Mamma?'

It's true that this still continues to be one of the most challenging times of my life. New and exciting job...less sleep...less time for myself...less time with my husband. Yet, in that moment, I felt the full blessing of what it is to be a parent. I felt deep joy...from a well that I didn't even know existed. I felt gratitude for my husband, my family and friends, my job, my home, and especially for our Ellie. And I felt amazement that it had been so very long since I last laughed at the wind myself.

So, I just want to say thank you. Thank you, God, for having given me such abundance. Thank you, Mark, for having brought such love and friendship into my life. And thank you, Baby Girl, for having taught me how to find magic in the wind yet again.

Hard to be a Working Mom

Photographed by Beth Caldwell, bethcaldwell.blogspot.com 

Everyone acknowledges that it’s hard to be a working mom. In fact, just the title mom clearly states that you are a hard worker…whether you get paid for it or not. I happen to be one of those moms who is now starting to transition back to office work as well as home work. And everyone acknowledges how hard this transition is…having to juggle so many hats and responsibilities and breast pumps all at once.

It is one of my first days in my soon to be new full-time job. I am sitting on the metro train, finally out of the house after a grueling 3 hour tour of getting both me and baby girl ready, and let me just say this: I…Am…Tired. My back hurts. My neck hurts. My big toe which I cut the other day is sore, my knee and shoulder are sore and loosy goosy, I’m guessing from relaxin hormones that haven’t gotten the memo that we’re no longer pregnant. I’m hauling around this huge backpack with my computer and lunch and a multitude of documents that I should have read already. I’m also transporting back and forth my portable breast pump and pumping supplies. And don’t get me wrong. I am sooooo thankful to have this job, this baby, and this breast pump. All three are top of the line! I could just really use a nap…and a vacation…and a massage. And did I mention a nap would be nice?

This is a critical crossroads in my life. You see, I’ve just gotten my dream job: Vice President of Policy and Government Affairs at Women Thrive Worldwide, a women’s international development and human rights policy organization here in Washington, DC. And the women who work there are amazing…intelligent, thoughtful, funny, eloquent, practical, visionary. Yet, I feel torn in two…my heart staying with Baby Girl when I have to leave her…my mind staying with the job when I have to leave it. Train rides to and from work can therefore be very confusing! Should I maximize potential work time? Should I go through my home to do list of all the things I need to get ready for Eliana for tomorrow? Should I pray? Breathe? Meditate? 

Today, I chose to write, hoping that the process would be cathartic and remind me yet again of how blessed I am to have so many choices. This is the difference between the haves and the have nots, isn’t it? Life is hard all around…for every woman out there. But the haves have a choice as to how hard to work and where to work and who to leave their child with and where and how to live. The have nots do not. It is indeed hard to be a working mom…whether this means that you’re working to get your family out of a tent camp in Haiti…working to sell your goods at the market place in Benin…working to feed and clothe your family in Philly…or working to balance office life and home life here in DC. So, here is a prayer for every mother out there worldwide: never ever forget that you are a valuable asset who deserves to have choice. You have worked too damn hard for it.

Waiting for Strength

I'm sitting here in my sun room, watching the sun slowly rise in the early morning hours. It is Sunday, four days after my due date, and I can't go back to sleep. Yet, all is calm...peaceful...as it should be somehow. Birds are welcoming the new day, not questioning if four hours of sleep is enough to get them through it. I almost skipped this moment...sitting here and soaking it in and basking in the quiet. Maybe, because I'm eager to get to the next step. I'm eager to go back to sleep, to finish one last work project, to try and naturally induce labor. But thankfully I picked up my devotional instead. Hence, an old, familiar verse met me at the crossroads once again.


"Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40: 30-31


How fitting. As if someone were trying to tell me something.


I've done a good job in the last week of letting go of things to prepare myself to wait. I stopped working on Thursday. I finished up my to do list and refused to put more things on it. I slowed way down and let go. This is the great irony of labor and birthing: total surrender. It is a very counter-intuitive action for someone so used to proactively leading the way. Yet labor...kind of like a baby...kind of like God...isn't really concerned so much with my proactive good intentions. I cannot control this. Just like I cannot control how quickly I will heal after birth, how and when Baby Girl and I will bond or how I will feel about my new work-life balance.

The truth of the matter is that I will have to wait on all of this. I mean, to really wait. I'll have to trust that Baby Girl will come at the exact perfect moment and in the exact perfect way. I'll have to trust that I'll know the right day to return to work, that I'll know how to balance the new role of mother in the middle of everything else and with the right timing. It's hard to let go and be patient when thinking on these things. Yet, this promise has always been fulfilled in my life: that if I wait for the divine, it will come. And better yet, when it comes, it will strengthen me much more than I ever could.


And so, I think I'm finally ready to go back to bed...to wait a little longer and to just enjoy the moment. Somehow I believe that although I might be exhausted right now, strength is on the horizon.

A 10 Year Anniversary Ode to My Daughter

10 years. Has it really been that long? 10 years today since I fell off my bicycle, on the road from Natitingou to Bakoumbe. 10 years since I remember being in Benin as a Peace Corps Volunteer. 10 years of healing, of letting go, of starting again. 10 years of creating this new life…both my own and the little one growing inside me now.

It seems so fitting somehow, that I’m in Haiti on this 10 year anniversary…sitting outside in the warm cool night after a hot day, listening to the sounds of children playing, dogs barking, old men laughing, radios blaring. I could almost be in Benin. Life seems so simple in this moment…beautifully uncomplicated in a country with so many complications. Just a simple Sunday evening of Haitian families spending time together in a Port-au-Prince neighborhood, looking up at the same stars, telling the same old stories, laughing at the same jokes.

I had two moments of true joy today that seemed tailor made for both Benin and Haiti. I didn’t even realize that it had been 10 years until I started writing this blog. And so, maybe these 2 moments were an anniversary present of sorts.

The first gift was a classical music concert by the Haiti Philharmonic Orchestra and the Petit Chanteurs (little singers) Haitian Boys Choir. My friend Alexis came and picked me up at my hotel, Le Jardin, and we went with another friend of hers from Mercy Corps to the St. Louis Garangue School Chapel. It was there that Haiti surprised me yet again. Of course they have a Philharmonic Orchestra and can deliver an amazing rendition of Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons. Why not?! It was a wonderful reminder that each country I encounter in the world has strengths and weaknesses, is over ‘developed’ and under ‘developed,’ is both national and global, has ugly spots and embarrassments and yet deep, overflowing beauty and promise. This is true about both Haiti and Benin. This is something that I didn’t fully know and understand 10 years ago.

The second gift today was a soak in the hotel pool as I watched the sun set behind the mountains, juxtaposed against a great big Haitian tree reflecting over the pool. The sky turned deep orange and the tree’s reflection over the water glowed in the ethereal light. It was a perfect moment. Just me and God and the sunset-filled tree…and our daughter, who was enthusiastically kicking away. It was a moment that doesn’t happen in normal, everyday life…a moment where the world melts into itself and Haiti and America and Heaven all merge into one. And my daughter, not even born yet, was in the middle of all of it. I kept whispering to her…things like ‘this is Haiti…isn’t it beautiful? Never be afraid of places and people, just because you don’t know them yet.’

I believe I had a moment like that on the road to Bakoumbe 10 years ago, when I stopped to take a picture of the countryside. A moment where nationality no longer mattered and I realized what a beautiful, timeless world it is that God has created and encouraged us to explore. Somehow, this is true. And yet, it’s also true that I am an outsider in both countries who will never truly understand. I will never fully comprehend Haiti’s pain, Haiti’s strength, Haiti’s hope. I love it, though. I love it as much as I loved Benin 10 years ago. Haiti, just like Benin, is not under developed, is not 3^rd world. It has deep rivers of wisdom in it, of solidarity, of integrity and beauty. These strengths could help teach and empower the world, if people would let it. And yet, it has great poverty and injustice too. Why is it, though, that more often than not, the world only chooses to see the latter?

My prayer of thankfulness and gratitude on this 10 year anniversary is that I have been able to heal and grow and see more parts of this world for what it really is: the making of our choosing. We can choose to see the beauty…choose to search for the goodness and kindness in people who are different from us…choose to work for justice and celebrate the steps along the way. We can choose life…again and again, in small and big ways, in different countries and with different cultures and at times when it feels oh so difficult. This is my prayer for my daughter: that she may grow up to seek and find beauty, and hope and God in the people and places that she encounters. That she might continue to ride bicycles even after the great falls in her life. That she will stay open minded and believe that even Haiti can have a great Philharmonic Orchestra. And that she will take time to sit in the middle of the water, watch the sun set over a foreign mountainside and know that she is safe to be and love in this world.

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH PARIS

With only 24 short hours to be in Paris, I was happy to continue the long distance love affair this past weekend. I was able to go through Paris on my way back from Copenhagen for the same exact price and jumped at the chance. And although 24 hours is oh so short a time to be in the beautiful city of lights, I tried to make the most of it.

My adventure began by meeting up with my friend, Stephanie, a cousin in the home-stay family that I lived with 12 1/2 years ago (wow...has it been that long???!!!) We had a nice dinner while sitting outside by Rue Mouffetard, in the 5th arrondissement. Ahhhh, Rue Mouffetard. With your cobblestone quaintness and wafting perfumes of fondue and crepes, I'm a sucker for you every time. (I'm sorry to report to all you Midd Paris Kids that our favorite Crepe guy at the very top of the Mouffe is no longer there! I mean, really, it's only been a dozen years...what nerve!)

We then walked by Paris III, where I used to study in College, and down to Place d'Italie. We jumped on the metro and headed over to...le Tour Eiffel, bien sur! Oh, and she is just as belle as she has ever been. (am I allowed to give a blatant phallic symbol a new female identity?) We crossed the Seine and climbed the stairs up to the Trocadero and just waited for midnight. And anyone who has ever loved and experienced Paris in the last decade knows the magic that can come alive at midnight. The Eiffel Tower, already lit up like a Christmas tree, begins to sparkle and explode with light, like fire crackers or fire works, for a good 5 minutes. And in that moment, there's nothing more beautiful in the world then standing next to 100 other mystified onlookers, all standing in a reverent hushed silence, as they breathe in the amazing light show.

After sharing in the joy that is a Parisian crepe and spending 4 wonderful hours catching up on every detail of life, Stephanie and I finally said adieu. I then headed towards the street that never sleeps: the Champs Elysee. Oh, Champs Elysee, Oh Champs Elysee, au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi, ou a minuit, il y a tout ce que vous voulez, aux Champs Elysee. I just couldn't help singing the song to myself over and over again as I strolled down the Champs, alive with people (including families pushing babies in strollers) at 1am in the morning. With the Arc de Triomphe standing proudly to the West, the grand, lit-up ferris wheel near the place de Concord to the East, and the trees lining the boulevard dangling crystal discs that catch and reflect the colors and lights of the street, the Champs sparkled and pulsed with electric energy. I walked and walked, soaking in the people of all ages and backgrounds, dressed to the nine's and heading in all directions. Finally, when the ferris wheel lights in the approaching distance turned off, I knew that it was a sign for me to head home. I jumped on the metro and got off near l'Opera, just a few blocks from the apartment in the chic 2nd arrondissment neighborhood where I stayed. Slowly coming down from my Paris high, I finally drifted to sleep around 3am, with visions of nutella crepes dancing in my head.

The next morning, being the over achiever who thinks that she can do it all that I am, I rushed up to one of my favorite neighborhoods, Montmartre, before my 11am brunch with my home-stay sisters. It was a gorgeous, sunny Sunday morning, with Parisians happily strolling the streets of this hilly neighborhood, picking up their baguettes and pain au chocolats from the local Boulanger/Patisserie, oranges and apples from the neighborhood epicerie and well chosen cheeses from the fromagerie. I popped into a Boulanger and ordered a simple croissant and tempting pain au chocolat for breakfast #1. And then, with horrible American manners, and due to my very short time window to see my favorite city view, I ate these delicious treasures as I walked towards the Sacre Coeur Cathedral. (My home-stay family would be horrified! No respectable Parisian would ever eat while walking...croissants and pain au chocolats are to be savored at outside cafe tables with a friend and a small cup of strong, perfect coffee.)

As I weaved in and out of the small neighborhood streets, lines overhead with dangling pieces of sun drying laundry and each apartment window box full of brightly colored flowers, I saw the Cathedral peaking through in the distance. I've always had a special affinity for the Sacre Coeur (though, I guess in truth, just about everyone who sees it does.) I slowly began the climb up the grassy area below the great Montmartre temple, stopping along the way to take a picture of a beloved sign: "La pelouse repose...the grass is sleeping." (This one's for you, Jen!) As I made it to the top, I turned to catch my breath, from both the steep climb and gorgeous view of the city. And there it was, Paris laid out in early morning light...the Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle, where I and my beloved home-stay mother, Martine (may she rest in peace), home-stay sister, Natalie, and fellow Midd friends all witnessed an amazing orchestra concert 13 years ago, as we reveled in the murals and majesty of our surroundings. The Pont Alexandre, where I met friends for countless late-night strolls along the Seine when I was a student, discussing the meaning of life and where Senior year and beyond would take us. The Louvre, which has always been as beautiful on the outside as the famous works within it, and which was always a sign to me during my year abroad that I was getting close to home, in the 8th arrondissment.

Unfortunately, I had no time to explore the terribly touristy and yet somehow still charming streets of Montmartre, or to even go inside the Sacre Coeur itself. So, I just waved to the city, nodded appreciatively to the great church, and headed down the winding, narrow streets towards the Chateau Rouge metro stop. 30 minutes later, I was meeting my French home-stay sisters, Natalie and Marianne, by the fountain in the middle of my favorite garden: le Luxembourg. Not surprisingly, I was quite late, but they forgave me right away and after taking a few commemorative photos, we headed off for a proper French meal. This took us back to Place de la Contrescarpe, at the top of Rue Mouffetard, for an outside brunch by the lovely square's fountain.

It was so wonderful to catch up with these two women...hear their stories of their young children and families, where jobs and travel and overall life have taken them the last several years. We reminisced about Natalie's amazing, simple wedding 6 1/2 years ago, in the Alps. I remember picking flowers in the mountain fields that morning for Natalie's bouquet, with Martine and Marianne, and being in true awe of my surroundings. I remember seeing Martine for the very last time a few days later, on Bastille Day...seeing her face light up with joy as we sat on a gorgeous Paris rooftop only a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower, watching fireworks explode. She was so beautiful that night...so happy. That is the way I always like to remember her.

After lunch, Natalie and Marianne appeased my desire to walk through the Latin Quarter and head to my last major conquest of the trip: the Notre Dame, Seine and Louvre. We stopped along the way at one of the best frommageries in the city, we sampled a few delicious morsels and I finally chose and had vacuum sealed a beautiful Camembert and additional assortment of wonderfully odorous French cheeses for Mark. As we came to Place St. Michel, we looked up at the great Notre-Dame. After years of preservation and cleanings, the old Dame now gleams like new...quite a lovely surprise. We crossed the road and followed the crowds inside, enjoying a few quiet moments in that sacred space, while listening to the morning mass choir.

Next, we headed west on the Seine, enjoying the warmth and brightness of the day and sharing story upon story. We arrived at our final destination and took in the great Louvre palace. Even Marianne and Natalie admitted that it never ceases to amaze them, after all these years, how beautiful this space is. We lingered a moment, took pictures and just enjoyed the surroundings. Yet, my flight back to America was calling, and we had to jump on a bus to make it back in time to pick up my belongings. Marianne and I bid adieu and Natalie accompanied me to the airport, for another wonderful hour of sharing and tearful goodbye. As I sat in my windowseat on the plane, and looked out at the great city below me, disappearing in the distance, I said a special prayer. God, please bless these women and their families until next we meet. Please pave the way for Mark and family members to share in this magic with me one day. And please bless this amazing city and country, until we are reunited again.