Rooted in Community

What does it mean to be rooted in community? For me, a few of the markers are… Sharing weekly dinners, prayers, laughter and tears with “our place on Derry,” which has become my family in Harrisburg. Spending time with the Reinfords every Thursday and being part of DJ, Marina and Havah’s growing up. Seeing familiar faces on the street as I walk to work every day, and being greeted as “neighbor” at the corner store. Knowing the people at community meetings, and being recognized as having something to offer.

In a word – relationships. That is what makes me feel most at home and most connected here. Yet it goes even deeper than that. The nature of life brings changes to relationships, as people move on or move away. What does that mean for community? The beauty of it is that community can transcend place, and rootedness is not dependent on particular people.

The people who know our hearts most and with whom we have shared our lives will always be a part of us – that deep bond of community is not easily broken, although it may change. Even as we think about dear members of “our place on Derry” moving away, we like to say that it is “extending” the community (all the way to Belize!) – and although we won’t be able to share kitchen ingredients and everyday life, we will still be part of eachother’s lives.

For me, as I think about my decision to stay long-term, my rootedness to this place is not dependent on the particular people who are here. Four years ago last month, I made the commitment to Harrisburg – and specifically to South Allison Hill – having fallen in love with it during my time at Messiah College. It was “the problems and the hope” that first attracted me – the very real challenges of poverty, blight and crime, yet the persistent efforts of a strong network of community organizations, leaders and ordinary people working hard to make their neighborhood a better place. This is the community that I have chosen in a broader sense, and although the people may change over the years, the commitment that draws us together remains the same.

Thank goodness “community” is not one-dimensional. For even as I hold dear the relationships in my community of people on Derry St – which may well span the globe one day – I sink my roots ever deeper into my community of place here on Allison Hill. This is a testament to “community” as a living and breathing organism, which at its best is flexible enough to grow and change as its members do – as we are simultaneously shaping it and being shaped by it.

Choosing Freedom.

I was struck by my pastor's sermon today, which focused on living a redeemed life. He talked about how we are often so aware of our brokenness and our wounds that we can get stuck in them, and never allow ourselves to move past that to fully embrace the freedom Christ offers. While self-awareness and reflection are certainly crucial as we work through our own particular struggles, I believe there is wisdom in seeing that there must be that next step of finally leaving those things behind in order to truly live in redemption.

For me, my struggle for a long time has been this deep "wound" of feeling alone, abandoned, unloved. Even as I write these words, it sounds like a broken record because I have felt stuck in this place for so long. In recent weeks and months I feel like I have made some progress, slowly but surely learning to appreciate and enjoy time alone, and rediscovering the things that are life-giving for me. In some ways it feels like it is constructing a new way of life - one that still allows lots of space for people but is not so dependent on them, instead rooted in my belovedness and purpose in God.

I don't pretend that I am "fixed" or that this struggle is completely behind me - there is plenty of regression to old patterns that makes forward progress slow, yet forward nonetheless. But I am ready to turn off this broken record, to embrace and claim freedom from that which has trapped me. I realized today that staying in that place has not only caused me a lot of pain, but it has also held me back from being completely who God is calling me to be, and from being able to do the work of building the Kingdom.

This is a wound that I have been comfortable with for way too long, and have allowed to control so much of my life. I don't want it to be my "crutch" any longer - I want to walk (and dance!) in freedom. My pastor's challenge today was to walk out of the doors as a redeemed person - embracing and believing that God changes us, and living as a changed person in light of that. Redemption for me is living in freedom. Freedom borne of knowing and believing that I am deeply and unconditionally loved. Freedom that allows me to love others deeply yet without fear of abandonment. Freedom to care for others with no strings attached. Freedom to invest myself in the things that are important to me without wondering if I will be the only one. Freedom to enjoy the little things in life without needing anyone else to share them with. Freedom to hold the uncertainties of the future with open hands. Freedom to readily see and recognize all of the gifts that are present in my life right now. Freedom to be happy by myself - while still being surrounded by a community of people who care.

So today, I choose freedom - and I pray that I will grow in that as I strive to keep choosing it every single day.

Good Alone.

Curled up in a chair with the sun streaming through the window, for the first time in a while I recognized and appreciated the gift of silence and solitude. As good as I know this is for me, most of the time I expend a lot of energy avoiding being quiet and being alone. I try to fill my life with people, tasks, noise - afraid to pause for fear that I will encounter my deepest insecurities. I have distorted aloneness to symbolize rejection, believing that when I am alone I am not cared for, I am unloved - and thus, I avoid it at all costs.

Yet Henri Nowen speaks truth into this, saying that we are all alone - no one experiences life as we do, and that is the human condition. But we have a choice - we can experience that reality as a wound, as a deep and destructive loneliness, or we can allow God to transform it into a holy and healing solitude. In this solitude, God creates the quiet center within us that we so desperately need, and fills us with Peace and Love. We have to be open to this, though, and create the space in our lives and hearts to allow it to happen. 

I am guilty of not doing this very well. Too often, I try to make myself feel fulfilled by spending time with people, working on projects and tasks, or planning exciting things. While all of these are important, when people aren't around or projects fall through or I tire of planning, I am left feeling empty again. Then my tendency is to go to the other extreme, of escaping the pain through someone else's reality on a TV show or the comfort of sleeping and making it all go away. Neither of these responses leave space for God, though, or invite God to fill my emptiness and make me whole again.

So I cherish mornings like this, when I am not trying to fill my life with busyness or escape it with distractions. I choose to be alone, to be with God, and it is good. That is true solitude. And I am grateful for evenings like last night, when spending a Friday night alone did not cause dread but rather enjoyment - getting in tune with myself and what I want to do, and finding rest, joy and purpose in giving myself a home "spa" treatment, researching vacation spots, cleaning the house and putting my room in order.

As I have more moments like this lately - experiencing aloneness as a space where my best self can emerge, rather than being crippled by my worst insecurities - I have hope that God is not finished with me yet, and that I will continue to learn what it means to be good alone.

Facing Race.

That’s what this conference was called, but it’s about more than just that. It’s about facing all of our privileges and the power structures that we’re not even aware of – until someone gives it a face, a voice, a story.

This is what I faced. The fact that I have never fully recognized my privileges as a heterosexual woman – that I have never even had to consider the experiences of trans-gender women or lesbian women who identify with male characteristics, much less how that is compounded by being a woman of color. Because I fit within the norms of gender and sexuality that have been constructed by our society, this has been an invisible community to me. Until there was a face, a voice, a story. Of women who identify as female but whose bodies society feels free to scrutinize for male characteristics. Of women (and men) who endure ridicule, violence and even death because of how they identify themselves – and to which the media and the general public is largely ignorant.

I faced, again, my privilege of whiteness – that although I might be “enlightened” enough to be attending a conference about race and seeking to engage these issues, when my mind gets overloaded I have the privilege of turning “off” that engagement – because I, unlike women and men of color, am not forced to constantly engage my race. I have never had to wrestle with questions of “what category do I fit into?” like the bi-racial daughters of one presenter, one of whom identified as white and one as black on the Census form. I have never been harassed and excluded from public spaces like an African-American teenager from Baltimore shared, who is organizing her peers to address it. And I have only ever engaged the school-to-prison pipeline and prison-industrial complex from a detached, academic standpoint – never experiencing the oppression and dehumanization of the people of color who are trapped in it.

As I sat on a bench outside the hotel, eating an authentic Baltimore pork chop and getting barbeque sauce all over me, I considered how if I were black or if I were not dressed as nice, the hotel security would probably question my right to be there. Later, after buying a homeless man a sandwich, he sat on a bench outside the hotel – and after I went inside I saw him get up and walk away. My first thought was concern over whether or not he was actually eating the sandwich – and indignation if he had wasted my money. That was quickly followed by a recognition that sitting outside the Hilton was probably the last place he wanted to be – in fact, he’d told me earlier that the security would often tell him to leave. How could concern for $10 be more important than concern for a man, regardless of his circumstances, who was homeless and jobless? Who was not even allowed to sit outside an establishment where I was privileged to belong. And what about outrage over a system that makes it possible – even acceptable – for such disparities to exist? Even with a face and a voice in front of me, I still must overcome my tendency to protect that which is closest to me (my money, my pride) rather than turning the kingdom upside-down.

I had lots of honest encounters with poor people of color in Baltimore while waiting for the bus or sitting on the train. I pride myself in not being afraid of taking public transportation or going to the “bad neighborhoods” – but I kid myself if I think sharing a few minutes in the cold makes me understand their experience – it is merely a glimpse. When talking about a homeless person up the street, one woman said “I’ve been there” – and someone else said “everyone has”. But I haven’t. And smelling perfumes being sold on the train, one woman commented that “this would smell good on your skin but doesn’t smell good on mine”.

If only I – and we as white Americans – can so honestly face race, and our own privileges. We like to talk around race – even as I was explaining my initial discomfort of arriving at an unfamiliar bus stop after dark to a fellow conference-goer, I caught myself not immediately acknowledging the racial aspect of my discomfort – and this was to a fellow white anti-racist! Even the language we use is toned-down – to us it is “discomfort”, but the sisters and brothers of color at the conference over and over referred to it as “the struggle”. While we can choose whether or not to put ourselves in “discomfort”, the “struggle” is a constant one that cannot be avoided. One presenter said that his friends call him a “walking uncomfortable conversation”. That is what I (and we) need to be challenging ourselves – and others – to be in truly be facing race every single day.

Re-Learning...

It's been quite a while since my last post, and in some ways things in my life have changed tremendously and in some ways not at all. I have to laugh at myself because I need to learn again what the 'me' writing the post about control a year ago was saying. That's one of the funny (and sometimes frustrating!) things about life - I feel like I am having to learn the same things over and over again, because I never quite get it the first (or second or third... :) time. 

What I'm contemplating these days is again, how I try to control things. I thought I'd given up trying to control circumstances, I thought I'd given up trying to control people, but what I was left with was still this intense desire to be able to control myself. Maybe that sounds funny, but I really want to be able to understand and control my emotions, my moods, how I react to things - and it's harder than you would think! Especially when I find myself in a chaotic state, my mind goes into overdrive and I launch into trying to figure out what's wrong so that I can fix it - so that I can be ok. 

But analyzing doesn't really help - it only gets me worked up more, making the chaos bigger and me feeling trapped in it. And withdrawing doesn't help either - my walls come up to "protect" me from others seeing my chaos, which I can't explain or fix, but those walls trap me as well. As counterintuitive as it is for me, though, that's when I need to break down my walls the most - that's when I need to let people see me in all my mess and allow them to speak into it and be present to it with me. It's vulnerable and scary but also healing...just as letting go of control is terrifying but also freeing. 

The song in my head lately reflects where I am on this journey... 

"Dark Side" by Kelly Clarkson 


There's a place that i knowit's not pretty there and few have ever goneif i show it to you nowwill it make you run away
or will you stayeven if it hurtseven if i try to push you outwill you return?and remind me who i really amplease remind me who i really am
everybody's got a dark sidedo you love me?can you love mine?nobody's a picture perfectbut we're worth ityou know that we're worth itwill you love me?even with my dark side?
like a diamondfrom black dustit's hard to knowwhat can becomeIf you give upso don't give up on meplease remind me who i really am
everybody's got a dark sidedo you love me?can you love mine?nobody's a picture perfectbut we're worth ityou know that we're worth itwill you love me?even with my dark side?

Moving from fear to love...

I realized today why it is I struggle so much with the feeling of being "left out". It's something that's been part of me my whole life, and has to do with my need for belonging and my wounds related to that, but it goes even deeper than that. At its very core, it is a fear - a fear of being loved less, of being pushed aside, overlooked, abandoned. That is what I am afraid of more than anything else in the world - of that loss of relationship, of that deep aloneness. That's why I can alternate between clinging and distancing myself - defenses mechanisms that I gravitate towards, the first to prevent loss, the second to protect from hurt.

But I cannot live from a place of fear - it's a prison that traps me, and from which I act reactively and compulsively. But love is the opposite of fear - and I long for the freedom of living out of God's love rather than being controlled by my own fear.

Henri Nowen speaks to this:

"Throughout the Gospel, we hear, 'Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, it is I. Fear is not of God. I am the God of love, a God who invites you to receive - and to let go of your fears so that you can start sharing what you are so afraid to let go of.' The invitation of Christ is the invitation to move out of the house of fear and into the house of love; to move away out of that place of imprisonment into a place of freedom."

This is my prayer, that a shift from dwelling in a place of fear to a place of love will happen in my heart, which only God can do. And this is the song that's speaking to me...

"By Your Side" - Tenth Avenue North

Why are you striving these days
Why are you trying to earn grace
Why are you crying
Let me lift up your face
Just don't turn away

Why are you looking for love
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough
To where will you go child
Tell me where will you run
To where will you run

And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you

Look at these hands and my side
They swallowed the grave on that night
When I drank the world's sin
So I could carry you in
And give you life
I want to give you life

Cause I, I love you
I want you to know
That I, I love you
I'll never let you go

And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you

Letting Go of Control...and Learning to Trust

I am a control freak. I think I've always known this, but yesterday's sermon on "Confessions of a Control Freak" really hit home for me. I want to have some semblence of control over the important things in my life - a very human thing, to be sure. But I spend a lot of energy trying to get or maintain that feeling of control, and end up creating a lot of anxiety for myself. I hate the feeling of everything spinning out of control, being overwhelmed and not knowing what to do - and my tendency is to do everything in my power to fight against that.

But the truth is, I'm not in control. Let me repeat that, for myself: I AM NOT IN CONTROL. I can't control whether work will be slow or crazy or exhausting. I can't control the relationships in my life or my family. I can't control schedules (mine or other people's). I can't even control my moods or how I'm feeling most of the time.

It's a scary thing to admit this, but recognizing that we're not in control gives us a choice. Do I cling tightly, trying to make things go the way I want by sheer force of will? Or do I hold everything with open hands, releasing my compulsion to control and resting in the knowledge that there is One who loves me who is guiding each piece of my life and the lives of those around me? Clinging is the natural response, but trying to hold onto something that isn't ours to start with only creates frustration. But there is a freedom in letting go - we no longer allow the need to control control us. Rather, in offering back up to God all of the pieces of our lives, we trust that God is in control - and we don't have to be.

As I recognize my attempts at controlling as really a lack of trust, I must daily (hourly, minutely!) lay them down. My prayer is that I may grow and find freedom in a new kind of trust, by the grace of God.

"No Sacrifice"
Jason Upton

To you I give my life, not just the parts I want to
To you I sacrifice these dreams that I hold on to

Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
This is no sacrifice
Here's my life

To you I give my future
As long as it may last
To you I give my present
To you I give my past

Because
Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
This is no sacrifice
Here's my life

Learning what I need...and letting go of it

Today walking home from work, I had a moment of clarity. As my mind was processing through various things, the chimes from the big old church by 13th & Derry broke into my reverie - and immediately made me smile. What is it about that sound that brings me joy? I decided that it was a sign of God's faithfulness for me - an important reminder that God knows what I need even more than I do, and that there is enough in God's perfect provision.

This was an important reminder because lately I've been thinking a lot about what I need, and particularly my need for people. I get so energized from being with people, have a deep desire for connection, for understanding, to know and be known - all very human things, but I've been trying to figure out what to do with this. I've finally been able to legitimize this to myself - learning to say that yes, it's ok to need people! But I've realized that in validating this to myself, I can't hold onto it too tightly - like anything, I must hold it with open hands, offering it back up to God.

It is God who truly knows what each of us needs better than we can ever know ourselves - and the amazing thing is that one way God chooses to provide for our needs is through one another, the broken and imperfect people that we are. Learning how to take care of eachother is hard, and I think a life-long journey - because it means that even as I am discovering more of what I need, I must also lay that down and seek to put what you need first.

But it works, because as we better understand ourselves and eachother, we can be cared for while caring for others, and it's a beautiful thing - a God thing, because ultimately it is God who cares for us and meets our needs, much more perfectly than we ever could.

On the winds of Change...and being Rooted

Yesterday was the first day this summer that I had to pull out a sweater to keep from being chilly. Last night was the first night that I wore socks to bed to keep my toes warm. You can feel it in the air - the weather is changing, fall is coming. Perhaps it is too convienent to equate the changes in seasons with the shifts in our own lives, but right now it seems to fit. I find myself in a period of letting go of some of the things that have been, and preparing to embrace the new things that are coming. No, I'm not changing jobs or getting married or moving, but significant life changes are happening for those closest to me - all of them exciting, all of them good, but also for me, a little bit scary. As one who prefers stability and needs time to process things through, too much all at once can make me start to panic. But then I must remember - change is not the enemy to be warded off or resisted, change is part of the natural rhythmn of life. Like a river there are ebbs and flows, but it never stands still - and yet in its motion that is what creates a constant.

As I sat down by the Susquehanna yesterday in the wake of the storm, the wind was whipping the river into little frothy waves and tossing the bushy vegetation about wildly in every direction. Sometimes I feel like those small plants, being pushed and pulled back and forth in every direction - entirely dependant on which way the wind is blowing. But then I looked up and noticed a tall tree, standing strong. Although its leaves and smaller branches were being swept back and forth, the sturdy trunk and thicker branches barely moved. I want to be like that tree - swaying gently and bending with the gusts, but having a core that is unshaken. I know that only comes out of a solid rootedness in the life-giving Source, the One who is unchanging. And I know it takes years of growth to get there, and I have a long way to go. But by the grace of God, I pray that I will be less shaken by the big life changes or the small day-to-day fluctuations - and allow myself to dance with the winds and the waves that do come.

And as I start pulling out warmer clothes and picking pumpkins from the backyard, I will offer thanks for what has been, and what's to come ("Seasons" by Nichole Nordeman).

of death and life...

Death and life. Grief and celebration. Despair and hope. How can a single night encompass all of these seemingly conflicting notions?

At the Heeding God's Call rally/witness against gun violence yesterday, we mourned the death of an 18-year-old young man, shot and killed this week in our neighborhood. He would've been a senior this fall. I've been to my share of rallies, and the songs and words are always meaningful, but this one was different. As we marched down Crescent St. yelling "what do we want?" "PEACE" "what do we need?" "JUSTICE" the words caught in my throat as we came to the boy's house. Dozens of his family members, friends, and neighbors were gathered, covering the family's porch and spilling out onto the sidewalk. You could see the sharp pain of grief in their faces, as they clung to eachother, and cried, and remembered. The service we held with them was brief, singing hymns, offering prayers, coming together to offer what small comfort and solidarity that we might be able to.

But as we stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder with the people who knew this man, something in me broke. This was suddenly no longer a news article, a statistic, a political or ideological issue - this was REAL. The awful reality of someone being snatched from those who love him hit me, and I cried - for them, for their grief that I couldn't even understand, but could see so clearly. For him, for the life that he wouldn't get to finish. For the unfairness of it all. For the absolute helplessness I felt.

People said different things to try to make sense of what is senseless. "These kids need jobs." True. "You gotta be saved by the blood of Jesus." True. "You can't take the funding from schools." True. "Gotta get the guns off the streets." True. It's all true, but there is no one answer - it's all of it, everything. Kids have to have access to good education, have to have opportunities for jobs, need to be encouraged and supported at home, need to have Jesus change their hearts and their lives. And we do need to get the guns and the drugs off the streets - but this couldn't be about a political platform or a call to conversion, not in the midst of a family's grief. None of that would bring their son, their brother, their friend back. The most valuable thing we could do was be there, crying and praying with them as Jesus would, as our hearts were breaking.

Filled with a deep sadness, I left there to go to the Joshua Farm's 5-year celebration. As I arrived, some folks were putting primer up for a mural. The field was bursting with life, multitudes of thriving vegetables and fruit and flowers everywhere. People were everywhere, enjoying the delicious snacks made from the farm's produce, sharing good conversations with old friends or new acquaintances, and admiring all the good things the farm embodies. Kids were running around, and wonderful music drifted from the live band playing. There was so much joy in that place, and I couldn't help but smile and laugh and marvel at God's goodness in it all. This was where there was life, and in abundance. And so I celebrated - the hard work of dear friends who run the farm, the good people coming together over it, the music - the food - the laughter - the kids, it was all so good, and I was so grateful to be there to share in it, to bear witness to God's goodness.

This joyous event does not negate the pain of a life lost, but nor are they totally divorced from eachother. The Joshua Farm works with at-risk youth in the community, providing jobs and teaching skills, as they provide fresh, affordable produce to the community. So I have to believe that there is hope yet. That on the same night we mourn a death, we are also celebrating life. And that God is there, weeping and rejoicing with us.

Bringing the Kingdom

Inspired by a wise and committed neighbor and friend, my thoughts turn to community once again. This is something that has been on my mind and my heart a lot these last several months, and I am reminded again of this burning desire for radical community life that extends beyond the four walls of our house or the confines of our circle of friends and embraces the people here in our neighborhood and brings them into fellowship together. I want to love the people God has placed me in close proximity with – but who I often feel worlds apart from. You can’t love people from a distance, and you can’t love people without knowing them. I want to know and be known in this place – and learn what it means to love despite seemingly insurmountable barriers – of race, class, and gender; or of busyness, routine, and complacency.

I have a vision of people of different races, languages, ages, backgrounds, and genders coming together around a shared table, children breaking the ice with their games and laughter, conversations starting, connections being made, stereotypes breaking down, relationships being formed – and God’s Kingdom coming in the midst of it.

I’m not naïve, and this isn’t going to magically happen just by willing it. Although we cannot force it, we do have to make an effort. Because the whole point is that these aren't the kind of relationships that will just happen – with all of the barriers our society has constructed, it’s become very natural and easy to keep to ourselves and be with people like us. Breaking out of that to reach out to those very different from us is not the norm – but it should be a marker of God’s upside-down Kingdom.

The how and when I don’t know, but what I do know is that this has to be part of what we do and who we are if we’re going to call ourselves the Body of Christ…otherwise, what are we doing?

------------------------------------

"Kingdom Comes" - Sara Groves

When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse

When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust

That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming

When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home

When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name

That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming

In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying

That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming

May it be so. AMEN.

What is Love?

I was reading bedtime books to some of the dear children in my life on Thursday, and was surprised by the wisdom I found in a Clifford story. As a puppy, Clifford kept hearing people using the word "love" in different contexts but was trying to figure out what it meant. "I love you" - "I love playing with you" - "I love when people fill my food bowl" - what was this thing called love? But by the end, as his owner/best friend Emily Elizabeth is holding him and scratching him under the chin, she says "I love you, Clifford" - and he realizes, love is this happy feeling of being with people who care about you.

It's true, and I've felt that a lot lately. The last few days I've been surrounded by the important people in my life, and have felt so loved as dear friends celebrated my birthday in so many wonderful ways. Love is revealing and celebrating the beauty we see in eachother. Love is talking and listening to the deep things on our hearts. Love is simply being together, not needing words at all. Love is laughing until our stomachs hurt - and then laughing some more.

Love isn't only happy feelings, though. Love is being there in the hurts and heartbreaks, sharing the tears and trials that life brings. Love is carrying those things for eachother and with eachother - things that we cannot fix, but that we can bring to Jesus together. Love is caring for one another even when we don't know how.

Love is being there - sharing in the joys and the sorrows and everything in between. We all have our highs and lows, our excitements and frustrations. We won't feel good all the time - but part of the beauty of community is coming together with our conglomeration of feelings and experiences (good and bad) and being real with eachother, even when it's not pretty. In doing so, we allow eachother to enter in and be Jesus to us. And that is the best gift of all.

Things that give me Life

I am reminded of the things that God has placed in my life that make me feel most alive and good and at peace with myself and the world. I too easily forget about them at times, but this week I was reminded of them in abundance.

1) Connecting with people - Sharing deep conversations about the things that are on our hearts and listening to and encouraging one another is such a beautiful expression of community that fills me like nothing else.

2) Celebrating - Being caught up in joy over the special and the ordinary is so important, letting belly laughs and ridiculousness work as medicine to revive the soul.

3) Playing with children - Spending time with kids never fails to lift my heart, make me laugh, and help me appreciate the little things in life.

4) Walking around my neighborhood - Walking the streets and alleys of what some would call an abandoned place is always therapy, where I find beauty and joy in what is and see hope in the possibilities for what could be.

5) Dreaming about the future - Contemplating the bigger dreams that God has placed on our hearts amidst the day-to-day routine gives me renewed excitement and inspiration for the Kingdom that is coming.

6) Being present and in touch with God - Taking time to simply be with God and allow God to change my heart grounds me and helps me find freedom from the things that hold me down.

When I recognize these as things that I need and strike a good balance of them in my life, I feel most alive and fully myself and I am better able to be what others need. I want to live in such a way that I intentionally seek to cultivate these life-giving experiences as part of my everyday, while also learning to not be dependent on them.

Trying to figure out the Love of God.

Why on earth would God want to be in relationship with people like me who are so messed up? That's what I'm trying to figure out. Perhaps it's because we are so messed up. God has it all together, and could have just stayed separate from the world, didn't have to bother with us after we rejected Him. But He saw us suffering as a result of our selfishness and knew this would eventually lead us to destruction in one way or another. So He had compassion, and wrote Himself into our story to offer a way out. He didn't have to experience suffering or pain or sorrow or loneliness of any kind - but He chose to, to enter into our human experience. That's love. And He offered us a relationship with Him, through which He can start the work of redeeming the messed up things in our world and in our hearts and show us another way. That's love.

And I think that God has built into the core of our beings a deep desire for relationship, for community, for Communion. It's meant to be with Him and meant to draw us to Him, but we often get distracted and seek to fulfill it in other ways. I find myself drawn to the people in my life, close friends and the community God has blessed me with, to fill this heart-desire. There is something so beautiful about knowing and being known, loving and being loved, just as you are. Yet whatever human relationships we have can never quite do that completely. We will always be limited by our selfish tendencies, and it will never quite be enough - it cannot quite fill that relational void inside our hearts. Only God can. I often forget this, and God constantly has to remind me that the people and the community He has blessed me with are not the be-all end-all - and elevating them as such only sets up unfair expectations and creates frustration.

Human community is a reflection of the Communion God has for us, but it's not it. Only God's perfect Love can fulfill our deepest relational desires, and dispel all of the insecurities and ugliness that hide in the corners of our hearts. When my heart is filled with the Love of God, it can't help but overflow into my relationships with people, and I can share it freely without expecting an exact return. However, when I don't allow my heart to be filled by God, I can approach my relationships out of that lack, and greedily draw from others to satisfy my needs.

The neat thing is, that living in God's Love has implications for everything. Not just how I love my friends, but how I interact with strangers and how I do my work and how I dream about the future and how I live in the present. My prayer right now is that God would be teaching me how to live in His Love every single day.

Living the questions...

Where am I? Sometimes in the mad rush of life I realize that I need to pause for a moment and just figure out where I am before I jet off to the next thing.

Lots of questions it seems are running through my head these days, and I don't often get to dwell on them long enough to figure out what the answers are, but sometimes being able to articulate what it is I am seeking is enough.

How do I love the people God has placed me with? I want my love for others to be pure, not steeped in having my own needs met, but truly as a gift to the other, possible only through God's grace.

How do I truly reach out to my neighbors, breaching cultural barriers that sometimes seem insurmountable? I want to build relationships, become a real part of this place, and help meet needs where I can.

How do I build community with other like-minded folks without excluding those who are different? Is community the end in itself or should we be striving for a certain vision or goal? How does this play out practically with busy schedules and other commitments?

What is it that I am meant to do vocationally? How can this collection of experiences, passions, and gifts be best used to advance the Kingdom?


How do I live fully and with abandon, obedient always to living out God's deep love and never being controlled by fears or insecurities?

How can I cultivate a lifestyle that is fully in the present, focusing on precisely where God has placed me in the moment and who with? How can I learn the art of being, rather than be a slave to my schedule and to-do list?

How do I make God my number one priority, focusing on spending time with God and having an attitude of constant openness to the movements of the Spirit?

So many questions! It can get overwhelming when they're all flying around in my head, but then I remember. Part of the answer, I think, is that "I" cannot do any of this. I need my sisters and brothers, and most of all my God - otherwise none of this is possible.

Amidst all of these questions, I have been encouraged by the people in my life who remind me of what is important and who are figuring out this thing called life together with me. Cooking and conversations late into the night at my house. Burritos and talk about community organizing. Coffee and conversation about hospitality and rootedness. Exciting news about new communities forming on the Hill. Corn mazes and pumpkin carving with children I love. Handing out candy and talking about life on the stoop. Play-dates with the little boys next door. Hot drinks with an old friend in a new city. Dear friends returning from far away places.

I am so blessed by the people who journey with me, as we live these questions...

Awakening

God rest us.
Rest the part of us which is tired.
Awaken the part of us which is asleep.
God awaken us and awake within us.
Amen.

I had a realization - I'm afraid that I've gotten too comfortable. Too comfortable with my job, my schedule, my life. Although there are so many good things about my life right now, I don't want to be satisfied with where I am. I feel like I've gotten so used to my everyday routine that I've become disconnected from some of the bigger, important things in life.

Urban housing & development, cycles of poverty and how to create & sustain jobs, gender issues and discrimination against women, hospitality & what it means to reach out to neighbors - so many things! There's this whole part of myself that cares so much about these things, but lately it's been so easy for them to get lost in the daily shuffle. I feel like I don't have the time or mental energy to engage them, but I don't want to lose sight of them because they're really at the core of who I am - and who I want to become. I want to truly engage in learning about and acting on these things that are so important to me.

Hand-in-hand with engaging these societal issues and problems is engaging with people, reaching out to the poor and marginalized, the broken and lonely. Sadly, I think I've kind of gotten used to not making as much of an effort. I have my volunteer times built into my schedule, but haven't allowed much space for being open to people I pass on the streets and what they might need at that moment. I've been reminded again of this radical lifestyle of reaching out and loving people that I used to want, and still do want, but seem to have fallen short of. It's not easy for me to reach out to strangers and get to know people - but following Jesus isn't supposed to be easy or natural or comfortable - just the opposite. I know that God wants to stretch me and push me out of my comfort zone, and I'm afraid to, but also afraid not to.

I want to strive again for this radical way of living, confronting these problems head-on and being part of the solutions, and above all loving people.
I want to be more intentional about hospitality and getting to know our neighbors;
I want to be more open to people as I walk the streets, and ready to help someone in need;
I want to be more connected to the things happening in the neighborhood and the city;
I want to learn more about the issues at play.
I want to dream again, and take small steps towards those dreams.
These are the desires of my heart. My prayer is that I will live in such a way that I am more faithful to them.

Living radically seems hard when it's done in small ways everyday on top of other demands. It doesn't feel like enough, and it's easy to get discouraged. It's also easy to forgot how important all of these things are. But people help me to remember, and dream with me and challenge me and encourage me. They remind me, too, that it all comes back to God and to love - without which we can do nothing. I feel like I am coming back to that.

And my song right now is Sara Groves' "Add to the Beauty":

We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts, written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation.

The gift of Time...

I do not often get stressed out these days, but lately I have been - by time. Suddenly there seemed to be a million things to do and people to see, and I found myself in a whirlwind of busyness that was of my making - but that left me frazzled and drained. I don't regret any of the things I did, but it's not a pace of life that I want to sustain. Rather, I deeply value the importance of rest and reflection, being fully present and allowing space for interruptions - and I want these to mark the rhythms of my life.

Time is finite, and I need to be ok with that - while also making the time that I do have count. I need to see it more and more as a gift, an opportunity, rather than merely a block on my calendar. I want how I use my time to reflect my highest values, rather than my weakest impulses. I am called to love with abandon the people God has placed me with, and to be faithful to the commitments I have made. Neither of these things are always easy - in fact, they're sometimes very hard. But with a generous portion of God's grace, I pray that I can.

One of the scary things about time is that it is so fleeting - and we can never get it back. Perhaps it's become more precious to me as I've been saying goodbyes lately - and as I prepare for more goodbyes and big changes in the lives of my closest friends.

It's funny, as I find myself again in the role of being a point of sending and return. There aren't only sad goodbyes, but also joyful returns, and for that I am grateful. And despite the pain of friends journeying onto new adventures without me, something in this role feels good too. I like being a settled, stable point for people when so much is changing, and it almost feels like an honor to support them and send them off to the great things God is calling them to. But I will need plenty of grace for those days too.

For now, my prayer is that I can love people like there's no tomorrow, not leaving important things unsaid - because life is too short, and we don't know how much time we've got until it's gone.

Being neighbors and growing roots

Tonight was a free evening, and little Derek and Evan came knocking on our door to "show us something". It was a GIANT zucchini in our garden that we had missed! Then we had a birthday surprise to show Derek, who just turned 4 on July 4th. Did I want to ride bikes for a bit? Sure! That led to reading some books and playing with the farm and racing cars until it was bedtime. When I finally left their house the sun was setting, and Inousa, our friendly and intelligent neighbor from Burkina Faso, was out back listening to music from his truck. I stopped and chatted for a while - he is getting ready to go back home, and so is soaking in the last weeks of his life in America. He always has interesting insights into life and culture here, and I appreciate his perspective.

It's nights like this that I am so grateful to have enough free space in my life to spontaneously spend time with neighbors. I am in love with this place and its people. When it's not blazing hot outside, I relish simply walking the streets of Allison Hill, with no particular aim except to know this place and be known. I want to memorize each back-street and get acquainted with the people so that everyone doesn't look the same to me anymore. Although my neighborhood certainly has its share of death, most days I can't help but be overwhelmed by the life that is so fully present here - kids laughing and playing together in the streets, families relaxing on their porches, guys hanging out and making fun. Although I certainly am still an oddity here, there's no place I'd rather be.

And as I walk the streets and go about my daily routine, I can't help but see the possibilities. Abandoned houses become loved and lived-in places. Empty lots become community spaces. And strangers become neighbors. I have so many dreams that I want to live out here. To truly know and love the people that God has placed here with me. To begin to understand the complexities of this place. To learn about the good work that is already being done by so many committed people. To discover my niche and what I am meant to do here. Some days there is an urgency to this last question - wanting to know what I'm supposed to do. But on days like today, I am content to spend time with neighbors - learning a little more about them and sharing in their lives.

A wise friend recently shared a quote by Henri Nowen that expresses the feeling I have well: "More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time and freedom to practice this simple ministry of presence..." I pray that God will use this desire in me as I continue to set down roots here...

What a wonderful world...

This week has left me with many markers pointing to God's goodness. Not that it's been an easy or carefree week - in fact, each day there have been disappointments or frustrations that have gotten me down. But each day there have been clear reminders of the goodness of God. Through life-giving conversations with friends, the beauty of creation, connections with co-workers, the smiles of children, and the special gift of new life, God has reminded me of the great blessings in life.

Usually things aren't this clear for me - my learning is usually much more muddled. Perhaps that's why I'm sharing this now...because God did make it clear that this is something to pay attention to. My prayer is that my eyes will always be open and attentive to see this. Amidst the small everyday struggles and the large overwhelming challenges, may we all see God and his goodness in this wonderful world.

It may sound funny, but the way I often experience joy is that songs will start welling up in my heart - and flowing out my lips :) Today the song in my heart was Louis Armstrong's classic "It's a Wonderful World". Here are the words...

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I love you"

I hear babies cryin', I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

One year out: Thoughts on work & life from "the other side"

As I attended Messiah's graduation this May, I remembered mine like it was yesterday - yet it also seemed like so long since I had walked across that stage. And as I wrote out this month's check for rent, I paused - it was exactly a year ago that I had begun this chapter of my life on 1527 Derry St. It made me ponder - what had I learned? How had I changed? What would I tell this year's seniors if I had the chance? So here are a few nuggets of wisdom, from my experience to yours...

There is such pressure as you graduate to "figure out what I'm doing with my life". The constant questions from well-meaning relatives and friends can be discouraging if you don't have a "good" answer. When I graduated I had ideas about what I wanted to do, but spent a whole summer unsure about what would be next. There will undoubtedly be times of uncertainty, of feeling "stuck", of knowing you have so much to give but having no outlet. They're hard, but they will pass sooner or later. I could not have imagined the ways that God provided for fulfilling and stretching work. Things will work out, although usually in ways that you never expected. That's how God rolls, it seems - God is full of surprises. God also likes to test our patience - but God will come through.

Whether you are looking for a job or have found one, know that there will never be the "perfect job" - but you can get pretty darn close. Every position will have its joys and frustrations, just as the skill-set you bring to it will have both strengths and weaknesses. But each experience for however long offers a great opportunity to learn more about what you want to do, what you love and are good at, and how you can grow and be better.

And you know what? You don't have to have it all figured out. I'm becoming more and more convinced that no one really does. Whether you're fresh out of college or in your 30s married with kids there are still transitions, there are still questions of what's going to happen next, of where to go and what to do, of how you can better live out your ideals and your vocation. The questions never end, but if you can find the peace to live in those questions, you'll be ok.

And I think it's pretty rare that we get clear answers. Maybe you will suddenly know for sure, "Ahah, this is what I will do for the rest of my life." But that's not the common experience. Rather, I think we are given clues along the way that point us towards what could be next. I've learned to pay attention to the things that energize and excite me, the things that fill me with joy, and the things that make me angry. All of these are clues to where my deep passions lie and when my work intersects with them.

I've also learned that changing the world looks different than I used to think. I imagined making sweeping changes in government policy, and spurring significant neighborhood revitalization. Now I see things differently. I haven't given up on my ideals, but I have learned in trying to live them out that change requires much time and commitment - it does not come quickly or easily. It requires humility in recognizing how much you have to learn, but also courage to go and try something even if you don't have it all figured out.

More often than not, living out your ideals will look very ordinary and you may feel like you're not doing very much. But in being counter-cultural day-in and day-out, you are extraordinary. And as a community of people - in your neighborhood and around the world - doing many small, ordinary things, little by little we are changing the world. It may not be as grand as you imagine, but it does matter.

To do any of this, though, community is essential. Messiah students, you'll chuckle, but it's really true. You can't live out your ideals alone. It's hard, doing community as imperfect people in a messy world. But it is totally and completely worth it - and if you don't have a good community, nothing much else matters. As much as jobs and other things have transitioned over the past year for me, it has been my community (near and far) which has remained constant. Find people who share your ideals, who will stand beside you, laugh and cry with you, live out your dreams with you, and sit with you in the questions.

You're gonna be alright :) Life on the other side is good.