Friends, Celebrities, and Mothers

Yesterday was pretty fabulous, I must say. It was, in a lot of ways, the epitome of living the life in Ireland. Tea seems to be a part of all good days. The trend continues. I had a couple cups before my little jog, and a couple more afterward. Living in Dalkey is incredible. I love being out from the city, a little sanctuary to wake up in.

Took my book, my camera, and some euros and headed into the city. I met Merilee and Melonie for lunch. Havana is the name of the little cafe that we ended up going to. Good food, fairly reasonably priced, lots of flags hanging up. It was an eclectic place. I don't often eat with the two of them, so as is true with most rare occasions, it was memorable. We laughed and ate off each others plates and talked about how different we are now from when we arrived. Up to this point, the day was beautifully uneventful. That was about to take a turn, though not for the worse.

We were just finishing up when Merilee got a phone call. I was still in the process of getting my change when I heard some squeals and saw her blond hair flying all over the place as she jumped around. The reason for all the ruckus? Celebrity sighting...

As we followed a very excited Merilee out of the cafe, the story came out. Apparently one of our friends saw Colin Farrell. I was dubious. But low and behold, as we turned a corner, there he was. Sitting at a cafe table by a second story window that overlooks the intersection. Hm. I'm guessing he was trying real hard to keep a low profile. As are most encounters with famous people, I found it rather anticlimatic. But the other girls didn't. Oddly enough, I was the only one with a camera. So yes, I have pictures of Colin Farrell. And yes, I'm seriously debating charging all the other girls for copies of them. We shall see.

At this point, I was ready to go to class. So we tore ourselves away. :) Class was excellent, as we got reviews from the features we turned in. I always find it interesting to be able to pinpoint the differences in cultures. We read parts of each feature with no names attatched, and yet I found it rather easy to determine which ones were written by Americans, and which were written by Irish. Or which excerpt was the African girl's. I can't tell why exactly. It must just be the inner voice that comes through. I mean, we all have a basis of understanding, a learned way of perception. Learning, or at least trying, to approach other's writing, speaking, and communication with that understanding is a big deal I think.

After class, I sat in a coffee shop with my book open and a cup of tea. Yes, another one. The seat I had over looked this bustling street of Dublin. I got a surprisingly little amount of reading done, because that spot worked ideally for people watching. A whole entry could be dedicated to describing the people I watched.... but I will refrain.

It was soon time for me to meet up with Kristyn and Katelyn. Last night my internship was putting on this photo exhibition to launch a publication. The booklet is Feminism and Migration, and the theme of the evening was Mothers and Daughters. It's generally understood that the life of an immigrant can be rather precarious. The truth of this statement is concentrated when it is a woman immigrant. The ambassador of Lesotho (small country located within South Africa's borders) spoke. The photographer of the exhibition, who was once an immigrant himself, shared as well.

That time was inspirational and very rewarding for me. I got to see the impact this organization is making. The day to day tasks that we do at the Immigrant Council are not glamorous. It can be messy and dishevelled. But still, the amount of influence grows as we work for justice. And I'm just honored to be a part of it.

Each photo portrayed a mother/daughter relationship. Some of the mothers came from India, or Norway as it was torn by WWII, or places in Africa where women are nothing. Stories attatched to the photos expressed the importance of freedom from oppressive habitats, and how mothers are often leading the way to that liberation. In every story, without exception, the strength of the mothers could be seen in the daughters. And often, the daughters had greater opportunities than the previous generation.

(A tangent that I must follow.... I could not stop thinking about my own mother the whole evening. My mother is strength and wisdom. I look at my life right now, the things I'm getting to do and be a part of. And truly, none of it would have happened without my mom. Those stories reflected so much of my own life. The love and inspiration of a mother is irreplaceable. I think my mom would like to travel. But I'm the one with the opportunity, mainly because her and my dad provided for me to come... because they pushed me to be stronger in things.... and because they helped me funnel my hopes and energies into action. My mom teaches third graders. She's a world-changer, because she loves kids and channels their minds and imaginations to great things. Mom, thanks for living honestly, for loving completely, for always speaking truth.)

The whole night was a great success. I couldn't have been prouder. Or more thankful. Today I'm back at the Immigrant Council. I've been priviledged to talk with people and hear their concerns. And I'm relying on God CONSTANTLY to give me the wisdom to help and the compassion to feel. HE is passionate about injustice and the cause of widows and the poor, so I know HE cares very much for what's going on here.

Tomorrow, I'm off to Paris early in the morning, and won't return until late Monday. I just laughed to myself, because I read this... And I know I'm undeserving. These are great days I'm living. You have to know that more than anything, I'm overwhelmingly thankful. Who am I that HE is mindful of me? I am nothing. But I see Him in every moment of these days. It is mind-blowing. Tomorrow I'll be in France. Today I'm in Ireland. And it's just another day in the life.