The Dirt Between My Toes

Hey friends,

This past weekend I traveled to New Mexico for a retreat with last year’s YAVs. Re-entry, as we call it, was a chance to reconnect with the first batch of my YAV friends, and to share stories and experiences from our years of service. Not to mention Ghost Ranch itself is a stunning place to be. 

The long weekend started on Thursday morning, as I hopped on a plane with a handful of other YAVs (or YAVAs now, I s’pose?) who currently reside in New Orleans. The anticipation grew as more friends joined us on the flight from Dallas to Albuquerque, and next thing you know 50 or so YAVs were all piled on a bus to Ghost Ranch. 

Re-entry is built largely to help YAVs process their newly-finished years, through small group discussions, group sessions, worship and plenty of fellowship. The general format of the retreat is relatively similar to orientation at Stony Point, but I was struck by the physical differences between the two places and how they reminded me of the ragtag little family that is a group of YAVs just returning from a year of service.

The open spaces at Stony Point are blanketed with green grass and surrounded by shady trees that invite pleasant afternoons of get-to-know-you conversations (on the off chance that you have some free time). In August it might get a little hot during the day, but for the most part the weather is pleasant enough...unless you happen to run into a hurricane.

The red rocks of Ghost Ranch are for the most part stripped of vegetation, bare except for a few spiky cacti and a good bit of prickly desert grass. The mid-day sun can be harsh, and in September there is a (relative) cold that sets in at night. But if you take a little hike to the top of a mesa or step outside at night and look upwards, the view will take your breath away. 

In the past twelve months all of us have been challenged, in ways too different to describe here. Through our experiences over the last year and through our conversations this past weekend, we have shed the green layers of presumption and expectation and bared at least part of our red rock souls to one another. Some are weary and broken, while others are as motivated and confident as ever. Either way we have found solidarity in our shared wandering and understanding in our shared love for others. The hike out of the valley to the top of the mesa might be longer for some than others, and some will be more out of breath when they reach the end of the trail. But that view at the top is worth it. 

I would be lying if I said that I could put into words everything that changed in me last year. But I boarded the plane back to New Orleans with desert dust still coating my sandals (and probably still stuck between my toes), a messy reminder of a year that has most certainly changed me and that will forever be an important part of me. This next year in my journey will surely challenge and change me even more than the last, and I'll head off to Ghost Ranch again in a year only come back with even more dirt between my toes. 

My friend and fellow YAV Luke wrote the following poem at the end of our orientation more than a year ago and just shared it with us again. I'm not sure there are better words to describe what this quirky, inspiring, plaid-wearing family means to me. So read on, friends, and I'll talk to you soon.


Love,

Allison


This community will not be broken.
There is
too much love
too much compassion
too much hope
too much energy
too much contagious enthusiasm
too much life.
We are full of life.
This community is a living thing.
This community will not be broken.
We separate tonight
so many different directions
to many places
to endure many pains and sorrows.
We will struggle.
We will hurt.
We will cry out to God
and ask, "Why do you let this happen?"
But the community will not be broken.
We will lift each other up
in prayer and in action.
the kind word.
the loving gesture.
God has put us together,
a community that will stand in solidarity and partnership
with the poorest of the poor, the victims of
cultures
systems
societies,
prejudices
principalities
that would have us believe they aren't human. Not worthy.
We will ache.
We will feel a longing for God's love for all unlike anything
we've ever felt before.
We will cry.
We will yell. 
We will break down. 
Hit rock bottom.
But when we need someone 
that very moment
when we feel we're useless
powerless against forces so far
beyond our control
we'll stand as a community
we will not be broken.
and we will change the world. 

Oh hey, God.

Hey friends,

Last weekend as we remembered the events of 9/11, many of us listened to meaningful sermons at church Sunday morning. During the one I heard, the pastor briefly mentioned the increase in practicing religion after 9/11. This was something I don't think I'd heard before, but it made sense. 

Tragedy in this world can be so completely and utterly overwhelming sometimes. It seems these days that every way you turn there's something. Whether it's global issues like war, poverty, and bigotry or more localized issues like a loved one with a serious illness or a natural disaster destroying a city. I mean even those commercials with the neglected kittens and puppies can get to you. There's a reason I hardly ever watch the news.

But how wonderful that there is a God that cares so much for us that he (or she) can be there for us when we need it. The tricky part, at least for me, is remembering to spend time with God when we don't need it. I stumbled upon this website the other day that listed letters children had written to God. One of my favorites: "Dear God, Are you really invisible or is that just a trick?"

I'm pretty sure it's just a trick. The way I see it: God is always all around us, just sometimes not right in front of us. As hard as it is to remember that in the midst of trial and tribulation, to know that can bring tremendous comfort. And just when you think it's been a bit too long, God shows up right there on your proverbial doorstep. I don't want this to seem like I'm saying that everything is just perfect all the time because God is there. It's not. I'm not saying I've got it all figured out, and I'm certainly not saying that I can explain why bad things happen. Just having been at work for two weeks I can already feel how working in a hospital can wear on a person's heart. But I've also seen how truly present God can be in that place.

It's one of my goals this year to put more effort into spiritual practices and disciplines, whether it's praying in color, reading the Bible more, or simply spending more time listening to God. I'm not much a fan of spiritual practices that involve being by myself, but maybe I'll just have to give those a try too. All I know is that it can't hurt to me a little more intentional about connecting with God every day, especially with all the junk going on in the world.

Through it all, as someone said at work last week, there's "nothin' you can do but walk the good walk."

Love,
Allison

Something Bigger

Hey friends!

In my last post I shared some of my (mostly stressful) thoughts about orientation. Another thing I keep thinking about, though, is how incredibly thankful I am to be part of this little YAV world of ours. I remember hearing about how much it would mean at orientation the first time around, but I feel like I get it now. That's not to say that I didn't realize it was something big last year, or that all the new YAVs can't get it now. But several times during orientation last week I was almost brought to tears with thoughts of YAV friends new and old, the ones that I've known for more than a year now and the ones I've known for just a couple weeks. Despite the rough patches that inevitably accompany a year of service (or any year, for that matter), it is unbelievably comforting to know that you are part of something bigger, and that your friends scattered across the world are, in perhaps slightly different ways, going through similar things. And it lasts longer than just your year (or two) of being a YAV.

Tropical Storm Lee has been making it's way through New Orleans over the past few days, and several YAVs sent texts and messages to make sure we were alright. When my birthday happened during orientation, I found out that my fellow former Nashville YAVs had all signed a card and sent a present for me. When I was at Montreat this past summer, two other small group leaders were YAVAs. None of these are probably huge deals in their own rights, but put together they give me confidence that I am part of something pretty incredible. And as I head out on this journey towards seminary or wherever else I end up, I can rest assured that I will have cherished friends along the way.

One of my fellow New Orleans YAVs shared this quotation (from David Nicholls's novel One Day) with me...

"What are you going to do with your life?" In one way or another it seemed that people had been asking her this forever; teachers, her parents, friends at three in the morning, but the question had never seemed this pressing and still she was no nearer to an answer. "Live each day as if it's your last," that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance. 

So here we go, YAVs and YAVAs all over the place, trying to change the bits of world around us or at least make a little bit of a positive impact. (Because make no mistake, being a YAV changes the way you see the world even after your year is up...at least it did for me.) Probably I won't change the world in New Orleans, but if I can brighten somebody else's day or make the slightest bit of difference then that's good enough for me. If you count all the current and former YAVs and add up all those slightest bits of difference, it counts for a lot. We might not be revolutionizing policy or overturning entire systems of injustice, but all those bits can add up to something bigger. Something way bigger. Just in the US, here's where YAVAs are living now (and before you all think I'm creepy and found/typed in addresses, I found this map on the YAVA blog)...

Blue = one YAVA, yellow = 2-6, and pink = 6+

In the words of Needtobreathe, we're "just tryin' to make the world a little better, you know, shine a light." And we're not trying alone.

Love,

Allison