Jazz Fest

Hey friends,

In an effort to catch up on sharing with you what I've been up to here in New Orleans, here's a slightly belated recap of our adventures at Jazz Fest!

I've been hearing about Jazz Fest since I moved here. Maybe even before that. And when I say Jazz Fest, I mean the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. It's the real deal, friends. Each Spring, the festival takes over the Fair Grounds Race Course for two long weekends (seven days total) filled with multiple stages that host thousands of musicians. There are specific tents for blues, jazz, and gospel music, in addition to stages of all sizes for artists of varying genres and levels of  fame. In the two Fridays my housemates and I were there, we were serenaded by...

Johnny Sketch & the Dirty Notes
Gomez
Comanche Hunters Mardi Gras Indians
Shades of Praise: New Orleans Interracial Gospel Choir
Irma Thomas
The Beach Boys
Marcia Ball
Grace Potter & the Nocturnals
Sarah Jarosz
Little Anthony & the Imperials

...and those we just the ones we intentionally spent time listening to. Countless others provided the soundtrack to our wandering between food vendors and stages. Seriously, it was borderline overwhelming the first day we were there. In case you're curious, here's just the lineup for the first day we went.

And the food! Oh, the food. I had a snoball from Plum Street Snoballs, crawfish bread (think home-made Hot Pocket...delicious bread encasing crawfish and tons of melty cheese), a fried alligator poboy, and crawfish beignets (not as weird as it might sound...they weren't sweet like the ones from Cafe du Monde). Some delicious rose mint iced tea, too. I've been told the food is almost as big a part of Jazz Fest as the music, and I'm pretty satisfied with my attempts to participate in that side of the festival.

There are also booths upon booths of crafts from various geographic locations and mediums. I only window shopped (well...tent shopped?), but it was still a great part of the experience. Also peppered in between stages, food stands, and craft booths were occasional second lines and Mardi Gras Indian parades. Below is a video of one Mardi Gras Indian celebration we happened upon at Jazz Fest, in which you can get a good look at their exquisite costumes, which are all beautifully handmade new every year. For more Mardi Gras Indian pictures and a couple other recent events, look at the pictures in this album.

The best part about Jazz Fest, I think, is that true to its full name it is genuinely a celebration of heritage. New Orleans is so much more than jazz music (not that jazz isn't lovely in itself). And while there were plenty of people there to see the big name out-of-town bands, there is nothing like the way that New Orleans embraces her local talent. Around these parts, the local talent can be just about any kind of music you'd imagine. New Orleans has a history full of countless international influences, plus a vibe that is all her own. And Jazz Fest seems to bring a lot of that together in one place.

There's the added bonus, too, that Jazz Fest has its own entry in the book 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. I loyally add sticky notes to the pages I've seen, and as someone with a soft spot for lists, it brought me joy to add another one!

This past weekend brought with it our monthly community day, for which my housemates and I helped out at a local food pantry, then headed south to Grand Isle for some relaxing time on the beach. More on that comin' atcha soon!

Love,
Allison

With Love from S. Derbigny Street

Hey friends!

Recently my community put together a newsletter with reflections from our years so far. In case you've missed it, our house includes nine roommates, both YAV and AmeriCorps. We work in after school programs, rebuilding organizations, a hospital chaplains department, a community garden, port ministries and more. You can find my reflection below, but if you've got a few minutes I'd highly suggest you see what my roommates have to say too. It's still just a small glimpse into the ways in which God is at work in New Orleans, but it's at least a bigger picture than what you've gotten here so far! The link below will take you to the newsletter. Enjoy!

4512 S. Derbigny

As for my contribution to the reflections, part of it was taken from a post I wrote back in October, so it may sound a little familiar. There's some new stuff too, though, so in case you're interested:

It’s quite hard to believe that I have been in New Orleans for more than seven months. Since I moved here in August, I’ve met countless people who have left their mark on my heart. One of those people is Ronald. Two housemates and I met Ronald back in October, in the midst of soaking up music (and humidity) at the Blues and BBQ Festival.

Ronald, who was being pushed in a wheelchair, approached us that evening and proceeded to tell us that he does improv poetry, and he wanted to share one with us. Off he went, rhythmically rhyming in an on-the-spot poem he told us was called "Three Queens." It was all about these three princesses who just wanted to take off their crowns for a day and enjoy regular life. About how the king and queen were worried for the princesses, but the princesses just needed to get away from the castle for a while and see what life was all about. They were going to be just fine. After he was done, Ronald told us he just wanted to say that he could see the light and the love in our faces, and that he just wanted to remind us that we're beautiful.

Ronald literally left us speechless. Often I've retrospectively seen God's presence in a certain situation, but friends in that moment I felt like I was staring God right in the face. It seemed so unbelievable to me that a random man in the park could get so much right about us. About me. Many of us embark on these year-long adventures outside of our proverbial castles, often to places far away both geographically and culturally. Sure, folks back home might be worried: What is she doing with her life? When's he going back to school? Are they safe there? But we sneak out anyway, just to see what it's like. And we'll be alright. That is not by any means to say that our adventures will be free of struggle and hardship, but we’ll make it. 

During a recent community meeting, my housemates and I were posed the question: “How is it with your soul?” Oh, no big deal, right? Just describe the well-being of your soul. But I quickly realized that the reason that question intimidated me so much was simply the abundance of answers I could provide for it. 

My soul is grateful, for the city of New Orleans and my community here. My soul is inspired, by the Young Adult Volunteer program and the work that it is doing. My soul is weary, because this year has tested my confidence in many ways. My soul is hurting, for people who are without homes or adequate food, and for those who encounter violence on a daily basis. 

And my soul is renewed. While challenges are still ever present, I am so incredibly grateful for the experiences I have had through the YAV program. I have learned so many things about myself during these two years, and it’s very intimidating to think that this major chapter of my life will be over in a few short months. 

Perhaps my community and the YAV program have become another of the castles of which Ronald spoke, and it’s just time for me to go explore the rest of the world.  So with a grateful, inspired, weary, hurting, and renewed soul, I will continue my journey from castle to castle, in constant wonder of who I will meet and what I will learn along the way.

Love,

Allison.

P.S. - In case you're curious, our street name is pronounced DER-bin-ee. (That's probably not technically the way to write that pronunciation. But hopefully you get the idea.)

Into the Woods

Hey there, friends.

This past weekend my housemates and I headed to a couple of cabins near Poplarville, MS for a weekend retreat. We settled ourselves into the woods, on a chunk of land that also happened to feature a pond and a tiny lake (or bigger pond...take your pick).

I spent the majority of our Saturday afternoon free time sitting by myself on a bench swing behind the main cabin. Now, first of all, choosing to sit by myself for an extended period of time is a new thing for me. I've always enjoyed being around other people, and for about half a second I felt guilty for not heading towards the lake with the majority of my housemates. I still enjoy people time, but I was so content on that bench with my thoughts and the woods for my only company. I s'pose that's yet another thing that's changed since I started this adventure as a YAV.

What struck me the most as I sat on that swing, however, was how noisy it was out there. I'd thought a lot before we left New Orleans about how nice it would be to get out of the loud bustling city and have some peace and quiet. Our little Mississippi neck of the woods was far from quiet, but the traffic noises and incessant sirens that surround our house on South Derbigny Street were replaced with the chirps of countless different birds, the ribbits of frogs and splashes of fish jumping in the pond, and the occasional buzzing of assorted insects all gathered together by the breeze that was gently making its way through the trees. I'm pretty convinced that those moments were my own little slice of heaven. Just laying there with my eyes closed, I could've spent all day just picking out each individual sliver of nature.

On Sunday morning before we departed for New Orleans, we were led in a short devotion on some benches outside. We were directed to observe our surroundings--the sights, sounds, smells--and to focus on something that stood out to us, good or bad. My thoughts and attention landed on a bee. It was one of the big furry ones, and was flitting back and forth between small purple flowers. Then, our instructions continued, we were to imagine that God was looking at that very same thing. Woah. God is so infinite, and yet She's looking at the same Mississippi bee? God is so big and important and at the same time He has the capacity to look at that bee and those little purple flowers at the very same moment that I was? I don't know that I can completely describe my feelings about that, but I just found myself in complete awe of the idea.

Now I could've told you before we even left New Orleans that the time outside would make me happy. But I don't think I realized just how much I needed it. This weekend was emotionally taxing for me (some reasons I can put into words, some I can't), to the point where I'm not sure I can say I feel totally renewed and refreshed as is sometimes the post-retreat condition. But the chance to breathe in the fresh air and to bask in a small corner of glorious creation certainly fed my soul.

With the arrival of Sunday morning, we were back to New Orleans and our "normal" day-to-day lives. If you're the prayin' type, I ask that you keep me in your prayers as I live out these last 3.5 months in Louisiana. It is my hope that I can be fully present here and that I can make the most out of the quickly dwindling time for which I will be able to call New Orleans home. I am still incredibly grateful for my housemates and the chance to get to know this vibrant city, but as it turns out, it's increasingly difficult to keep my mental focus here the more excited that I become about things to come in the fall.

Love,
Allison.

PS - Into the Woods is also a pretty neat musical. Check it out sometime.

Life plans!

Ha. Just kidding. (Sorry, parents.) But I do officially have a plan for the fall!

In case you haven't heard (though if you're here you probably have), I've been accepted to Columbia Theological Seminary's Master of Divinity program! I'm excited and nervous and relieved and intimidated and probably a million other things all at the same time.

Now, bear with me, because I'm about to reference my own Facebook status...

First, disclaimer: I grew up in a Presbyterian church, worked at a Presbyterian camp, and have been part of a Presbyterian volunteer program for somethin' like 19 months now. So obviously, there's some significant overlap amongst the people I know. But as I watched the reactions to the obligatory I'm-going-to-Columbia status that I posted on Facebook last week, I realized just how many different groups of people have supported me along the way. I know, I know, a "like" on Facebook does not automatically equate to years of friendship and support. But represented in the comments and likes of this particular status are childhood and high school friends, college friends, sorority sisters, fellow camp counselors, family, friends from Nashville, friends from Montreat, and of course assorted YAVs and YAVA. Some fit in to more than one category. Some I talk (or type) to frequently, and some I haven't had an actual conversation with in years. But all of these people, all of you, are a part of the places and events that have gotten me here.

There is something that has stuck with me consistently over the past several years, through all of the changing places and faces. It is the notion that this journey is not at all one to be traveled alone. I don't nessecarily mean my personal path to seminary, but the journey. You know, the cheesy figurative path everyone walks in life, regardless of the particular direction in which they travel. The one that everybody's on, whether they know it or not.

Technically, I made the independent decision to fill out forms and mail them to the school, but there's not even a chance I would have done that if not for the many groups of people I've known along the way. And the way it seems, next year will begin a combining of many of those groups. I'm very much looking forward to being closer to family and friends (and mountains), all while experiencing a completely new phase of my life.

I'm also convinced that sometimes journeys are meant to be taken just a step at a time. Some of those steps are baby ones and some are more like giant leaps. But I mentioned in my last post how important I think it is to really be present where you are, and I don't think that's possible if you're putting all of your attention on what will be happening ten or twenty or thirty years from now. I know thinking about the future is important too. But if that's all we ever did, we'd miss what's right in front of us!

So, with all my heart, thank you (yes, you) for being a part of these little steps of mine. In the words of Shakespeare (and our community's thank you cards): "I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks."

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Love,
Allison.

Caution: Flying Produce Ahead

Hello dear friends,

If you haven't caught on by now: New Orleans knows how to celebrate. So of course St. Patrick's Day this weekend was no exception! Nor is today, St. Joseph's Day, which is also Super Sunday here in the Crescent City.

First: St. Patty's. In addition to the block parties and other shenanigans that go on at various local establishments, there is (waiiit for it...) a parade! Just having recovered from the more than 20 parades we caught during Mardi Gras, we were claiming our spot in the neutral ground once again. Four parades rolled in New Orleans and the surrounding towns on Saturday, but we just caught the one Uptown, nearest to our house. This particular parade (which turned out to be quite lengthy) featured multiple walking clubs with marchers dressed in anything from full kilt get-ups to top hats and coattails and everything in between. Most of these folks carried umbrella handles full of flowers. Some flowers were the standard artificial silk, some made of wood, and some crafted out of tissue paper and wire. All along the route, they gift these flowers to parade goers, often in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. In case you're having trouble picturing the flower-filled-umbrella-handle thing, check out these dudes in a picture borrowed from nola.com:

Read more about the history of the parade here. Also, see more Times-Picayune pictures of the parade here.

After most of the marching groups came the floats. In addition to the obligatory beads and assorted toys, the more entertaining throws included cabbage and a multitude of other produce (typically ingredients that go into stew), and Irish Spring soap. Personally I scored a cabbage, a carrot, and an onion. I've got some cooking to do tonight! We'll see how that goes...

After the parade we had a little rest at the house, and then headed out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. Our window table at Rum House provided ample opportunity for people watching and a fascinating opportunity to see how quickly the city can clean up a street after a parade. (I s'pose they've had plenty of practice at this point.)

In an effort to keep these posts short-ish (even I start skimming after a few paragraphs...oops), I think I'll save Super Sunday for another post, but be on the lookout for that soon! For now, here are a few pictures of Ashley, Lauren and me at the parade. And for the record, stick-on mustaches are not the most comfortable things in the world. But they sure are festive!

Love,
Allison

Pre-parade mustache modeling.

Cabbage!

Carrots, onions, and garlic, oh my!

Find Your Joy

Hey friends,

I hope you've all had swell weekends! Last night Lauren and I embarked on a roommate adventure and saw a band called The Apache Relay. It was a great time in a sweet venue (The Parish at NOLA's House of Blues), and I'd highly suggest you check these dudes out if you haven't before.

The point of this post, though, is the smiles. The smiles on the band members' faces. I kept noticing throughout Apache Relay's set that, as they energetically moved across the stage with their assorted instruments, a smile would just creep on to their faces. Not all at once, and sometimes it was a smile towards the audience, sometimes towards a bandmate, sometimes towards seemingly nowhere in particular. But you could just tell that they were so happy to be doing what they were doing. The crowd was relatively small, but that was fine by them. I lost count of how many times the lead singer thanked the audience for being there. It just struck me how filled with joy they were, just to be there playing music. (I mean, I s'pose technically I'm projecting those feelings, but they sure seemed genuine enough.)

That kind of joy is what I hope for you, friends. And for myself, too. Sure, everybody has their own stuff to deal with, but how wonderful to have a part of your life that makes you smile like that. Maybe it's a job, or some other vocation or maybe a particular experience or person. Whatever it is, I truly hope that you either have it or that you find it soon. Because who doesn't want a reason to smile?

Love,
Allison.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas...

...the next holiday season started!

One of the many bits of character that New Orleans has about her is Carnival! So, friends, I'm hoping to make part of my blogging in the next month and a half an attempt at sharing what I've learned about it so far. First thing's first: Carnival is the season, which begins on Twelfth Night and ends with Mardi Gras (which is, specifically, the day before Ash Wednesday). Some people seem to refer also to the season as Mardi Gras, but at least now you know the technical vocab. There are an overwhelming number of aspects to the culture of Mardi Gras here in New Orleans, so I'm hoping to share it with you bit by bit. As it turns out, this season is a heck of a lot more than shenanigans on Bourbon Street.

For starters, and for this post, there is Twelfth Night. The particulars of the exact date vary a little by tradition but here, January 6th signals the occasion and with it the arrival of Carnival season. While most of the physical celebrations and parades center around Mardi Gras day and the week or two leading up to it, Twelfth Night means it's officially alright to eat King Cake and put up purple, green, and gold stuff in your houses! So here's to hoping you all eat some cake and maybe even get the piece with the little plastic baby in it (fair warning: apparently, in addition to being good luck, the baby also means you have to buy the next one).

January 6th also happens to be Joan of Arc's birthday. Given that she's quite the hero around these parts, there's a parade in her honor each January 6th, put on by the Krewe de Jeanne d'Arc. (More on Mardi Gras krewes in a later post maybe, but they're essentially different social clubs, some more exclusive and secretive than others. Many of them throw a parade and a ball each Carnival season.) In this particular parade, participants dressed in Medieval clothing and walked through the French Quarter, starting at a statue of Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville (who is credited with founding the city of New Orleans) and ending at the statue of Joan. One of my favorite parts of the parade was the six women on horseback, each portraying a different Joan of Arc. The Joans ranged from a younger Joan to a warrior Joan and a flag-carrying golden Joan (that one represents the statue). There were also these kids walking on stilts, who I'm pretty sure are way cooler than I'll ever be.

Another important (and fun) part of all of these parades are the throws. While these often involve beads of different color and size, they can also include handmade items, which vary depending on the krewe and the parade. While I was hoping to get one of the sweet handmade and decorated wooden swords, that didn't exactly work out. (I think you had to be a cute little kid dressed in a knight costume...live and learn, I guess.) I did get a couple neat crosses, and a magnet too! Seeing as though this particular parade was in celebration of a birthday, numbered candles were also distributed, one for each of Joan's 600 years. Also apparently popular in many parades are doubloons (fun word, no?), which are either wooden or metal and usually feature the krewe's emblem and founding year on one side, with the year of the parade on the other. Take a gander at the spoils of my first New Orleans parade experience:

Like I said, most of the other parades won't happen until the week or two leading up to Mardi Gras, but I'm hoping to do some reading about the season and different traditions, and maybe share some more of it here. So, if there's anything in particular you're curious about, feel free to let me know in the comments or elsewhere. I've just found myself so fascinated by it all that I wanted to share. If you don't find yourself as interested, please forgive me and feel free to just skim these posts. :)

Love,

Allison.

Home for the Holidays

Hello dear friends, and merry New Year!

With the advent of this newest year in our lives, social networks and real-life conversations alike have been overflowing with memories of 2011 and hopes for 2012. And here in New Orleans, the store aisles dedicated to Christmas decorations and supplies have quickly been replaced with the purple, green, and gold of Mardi Gras. Before we get into that, though, here are a few words on the end of my 2011...

If you've read my last couple posts, you know some crazy stuff has been going on in these parts. I found myself hoping rather desperately that I could find some warm fuzzy feelings about New Orleans before she and I parted ways for Christmas. I lucked out and found those warm fuzzies in the form of caroling in Jackson Square. Hosted by a group called the Patio Planters, the event has been goin' down every Sunday-before-Christmas since 1946. Each year thousands of people (natives, transplants, and tourists alike) gather in the square just outside of St. Louis' Cathedral, reading from songbooks by candlelight, singing everything from "Good King Wenceslas" to "Feliz Navidad" with a little "Rudolph" sprinkled in. Apparently, this year, 8,000+ carolers kept us company. Local leaders both religious and secular introduced the carols and special guests. In true NOLA fashion, the Archbishop worked the crowd before his opening prayer with a: "So how 'bout those Saints? Are we going to the Super Bowl or what?!" To which the crowd replied with an assortment of cheers including the ever popular "WHO DAT!" The spirit of this town just doesn't get old. Jillian, Lauren, Ashley and I had smiles plastered across our faces the entire time (except for when I spilled hot wax on my hand...), and it was even "cold" enough for us to wear scarves! And, of course, we just had to fight the post-caroling crowds at Cafe du Monde for a few beignets and some cafe au lait. It would've been a great evening under any circumstances, but I was especially grateful to have this experience just a few days before I headed up to North Carolina. For your viewing pleasure, here are a few pictures of the occasion (none of which I actually took)...


Caroling by candlelight in Jackson Square. (That's Lauren, Jillian and Ashley.)

Excited about our songbooks. Can you say free souvenir?!

Lauren's sister Lindsay was in town to experience the NOLA holiday magic.

Just a few days after our caroling adventures, I was off to Davidson for Christmas with the family. Holidays have turned out to be an interesting thing in YAV land. Sometimes going home is a welcomed break from a stressful placement, and a chance to reconnect with friends, family, and the local coffee shop. But there is also the fact that I am not the same person I was a year and a half a half ago. Of course, the Allison that graduated from Furman also wasn't the exact same one that graduated from high school four years before that, but this seems to be a little different. It's also one of those things that I don't think I can fully put into words, but it has also been a very real part of my YAV experience. And I couldn't help but think about the rest of the YAV community, many of whom were either struggling with returning home a changed person or were struggling with not being able to return home for the holidays. Maybe it was the Christmas warm fuzzies, but again I just found myself thinking of how much I love this little YAV family, and how thankful I am that it's a part of my life.

After a quick six days in the homeland, it was back to New Orleans in time for New Years Eve. Given the fact that I managed to pick up an awesome cold on my way out of Davidson, Ashley and I just went out for a delicious Mediterranean dinner, and headed back to the house, snacks in hand, to watch the ball drop on TV. Highlights of the evening: the woman working in the vintage clothing store complimented my dress when Ashley and I were doing some pre-dinner window shopping, and a little seven or eight year old girl complimented my sparkly shoes. Score. My other favorite part of the evening was right after midnight, as I stood on our balcony watching fireworks in almost every direction. Just past the buildings and scattered trees you could see the the big display over the Quarter, and in almost any other way you looked, you could see the occasional colorful explosions that people were setting of on their own. Despite the fact that I'm not sure exactly how safe it is to set off fireworks in the middle of narrow streets that are lined with mostly-made-of-wood houses, I couldn't help but feel happy standing there breathing in the cool air of a brand new year. And however much of a love/hate relationship I seem to have with this city, I think it's also a place that I'm proud to call one of my homes.

Just six days after New Years, the next holiday season rolled around. Happy Carnival, friends! Be on the look out soon for a post about our Twelfth Night reveling and the first parade of the season. 43 days until Mardi Gras...

Love,
Allison.

In All Honesty

Hey friends,

For those of you who have followed this blog with any regularity over the past 16 months or so, you may have noticed that new additions have been made far more seldomly this year than last. (Thanks for the reminder, Mom.) By no means does that indicate that I've less to say, it's just that, in all honesty, this year has been hard so far. And, while I can acknowledge well enough that it's been hard, I do think that it's been a challenge to put it into words. I also want to preface this post, however, by saying that these comments are in no way a plea for sympathy or an effort to stress anybody out. It's merely my best attempt at sharing an honest portrayal of my year in New Orleans. So here goes nothin'.

It wouldn't be very honest of me to say that this has been a difficult four (ish) months without mentioning work. By no means am I saying I'm the only person out there struggling with working in a hospital chaplains department, but it's kind of a new thing for me to not love what I do every day. It has been a challenging thing for me to realize that maybe I'm not going to be super thrilled about going to work every morning, and that maybe I'm not meant to be a hospital chaplain when I grow up. But I'm also trying to remember that I am meant to be here this year. We'll see where this part of my journey goes, but maybe that conversation is for another day.

What has been affecting me (and I venture to say most of my house) more, as of late, is the crime that seems to be creeping in closer and closer to our little intentional community. It is no secret that New Olreans isn't the safest city in the world, but over the past few weeks several members of our community have directly experienced, whether as victims or witnesses, instances of violence. In addition to that, reports of other events near our house have had everyone on edge. And while I know that violence is very much a reality in this world and in many cities, as someone who grew up in a pleasantly small town it has been especially hard to stare it in the face. It truly breaks my heart that people find themselves in positions in which violence and crime seem like the only option, and it breaks my heart that people I love are being hurt physically and emotionally. And I think all of these events have slowly but surely chipped away at our ability to feel comfortable in this city that is our home for the year. You want some cash, but you're afraid to walk by yourself across the street to Walgreens even in the middle of the day. Or you had a bad day and want to just sit in your car for a while when you get home from work, but are very aware of the fact the gravel lot by the house is pretty isolated and awfully dark by the time 5:30pm rolls around. I think we're definitely past that "honeymoon phase" they kept talking about at orientation. Culture shock much?

While we are obviously very conscious of traveling in groups, always locking the house, and making other safety-conscious decisions, the fact is that, at least speaking for myself: I'm just tired. I'm tired of seeing a constant stream of crime reports on the news, I'm tired of feeling the need to speed walk just the short distance from my car to my house, I'm tired of being suspicious of almost everybody I see on the street, and honestly, I'm tired of feeling guilty for having all of these feelings (I know a whole lot of people have it worse off than I do). But it is so hard to feel at home in a place where you feel as though your guard needs to constantly be up. And even though it seems like Christmas is coming at us with the speed of lightning (which in education land means the year's half over), we've still got two thirds of our YAV years to go.

All of this being said, we're hanging in there. Our little baby Christmas tree and some stockings are doing their job of bringing holiday cheer to the living room, and we are looking forward to the chance to visit with family and friends over Christmas. This past Saturday was our monthly community day (in addition to our Tuesday night meetings), and we spent the morning planting trees. I know it was therapeutic for me, and I suspect a lot of my roommates feel the same way. It was a wonderful thing to be away from the city in a little bit of nature (even though I could still hear the cargo ships on the river), and to be physically, visibly improving the land around us, and just to get a little dirt on our hands. I mean plus I saw an armadillo, some cool bugs and a cute little swamp melon. It was a welcomed break from "real life." And New Orleans is still full of so much beauty and character, if we can only remember to look for it.

So as I said before, I don't mean to alarm anyone with my words here. But I do humbly ask that, if you're the prayin' type, you keep our community in your prayers, that we can find hope and peace of mind as we're making our way through this rough patch. During the closing prayer after our community dinner Saturday evening, one roomate read Psalm 23, and it was fitting enough that it brought be to tears. So, whether you need it right now or not, I'll leave you with those words.

Love,
Allison

¹ The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
²   He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
³   he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
   for his name’s sake.

⁴ Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
   I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
   your rod and your staff—
   they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
   in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
   my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
   all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
   my whole life long.

America the Beautiful

Hey friends,

A couple weeks ago my roommates and I ventured to Austin, TX for a retreat with the San Antonio YAVs and some AmeriCorps folks who are currently serving in Austin. Most of the weekend was just time to relax, enjoy each other's company, and explore the city. We played tourist and paid visits to the capitol building, the first Whole Foods (which is huge, by the way), and the beautiful Mount Bonnell. My favorite part of the weekend, however, was our time at the Austin Powwow, which is an annual celebration of culture and heritage that brings together different Native American nations for dancing, drumming, and the chance to honor and remember loved ones.

I'm generally a fan of new experiences, but this one was particularly wonderful. As dancers in elaborate outfits paraded their way into the room, I was legitimately overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. There was a palpable sense of pride surrounding the tradition and art of the dances, and the colors and details of the clothing were nothing less than exquisite.

I couldn't help but think, as I was taking all of this in, that this amazing group of people is a huge part of our country's history, and it is so often overlooked. I'll be the first to say I know very little about Native American culture, but just this small experience has made me want to know more. I wonder what would change if this was the kind of American culture that we embraced instead of focusing on Starbucks, the latest designer clothes, and failed celebrity marriages. I get as much entertainment as the next girl out of the occasional celebrity gossip magazine, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice. But here's my suggestion, friends. Take a look around and see where the real beauty is in your life, whether it's something especially "American" or not. Whether it's your heritage, a particular relationship, a flowering tree on your street, a quiet walk in a peaceful place or the smile of a random stranger on the street.

What takes your breath away?

There is so much real beauty in the people and places that are right around us, if only we'd stop every now and then to look for it.

Love,
Allison.



A glimpse of the powwow, courtesy of Jillian's account of our adventure.



Finding God in Lafayette Square

Friends, I think I'm officially falling in love with New Orleans. I'm going to do my best to explain just a some of it to you, though several roommates and I have determined it's probably not possible to truly convey the beauty of this city unless you see it for yourself. (We have several couches and extra beds. Just sayin'.) I don't really feel like my storytelling will completely do these moments justice, but I hope this will be able to convey at least a little of the spirit I've found here in New Orleans.


Anyway, a couple weekends ago Lauren, Jillian and I set off for the Crescent City Blues & BBQ Festival. We pulled into a parking lot, and as I was walking up to the machine to pay, a man walked up and told us he was leaving, and that we were welcome to have his ticket (which still had about six hours left). Then after some good food and even better music, we started wandering around the booths of various artists and other vendors. We proceeded to meet an artist who had these incredible paintings of New Orleans and Katrina recovery efforts. She of course, because it's NOLA, talked to us forever, telling us about the city and Mardi Gras and plenty of other things too, and was eager to hear about where we're from and why we're here. Then, as we sat back down, we met Ronald.

Ronald, who was being pushed in a wheelchair, proceeded to tell us he does improv poetry, and he wanted to share one with us. So off he went, rhythmically rhyming in an on-the-spot poem he told us was called "Three Queens." It was all about these three queens/princesses (he switched back and forth between those) who just wanted to take off their crowns for a day and enjoy regular life. How the king and queen were worried about the princesses, but the princesses just needed to get away from the castle for a while and see what life was all about. They were going to be just fine. After he was done, Ronald told us he just wanted to say that he could see the light and the love in our faces, and that he just wanted to remind us that we're beautiful.

Ronald literally left us speechless. Often I've retrospectively seen God's presence in a certain situation, but friends, in that moment I felt like I was staring God right in the face. It seemed so unbelievable to me that a random guy in the park could get so much right about us. About me. At the risk of speaking inaccurately for other people, I think the ways that Ronald's poem described me could probably be applied to a lot of YAVs. Many of us embark on these year-long adventures outside of our proverbial castles, often to places far away both geographically and culturally. Sure, folks back home might be worried: What is she doing with her life? When's he going back to school? Are they safe there? But we sneak out anyway, to see what it's like out here. And we'll be alright.

I think then even our YAV context can become a castle of sorts, if for different reasons. Many specific YAV jobs involve stressful work, and after work time is often filled with community meetings and other events. That is not to say that we need or want to forget about or ignore the work we do or the issues we care about, but sometimes it's nice to take off the YAV hat and just enjoy some music sitting in the grass outside. And sometimes that's ok. As I continue settling in to a year that is far from easy, it was wonderful to hear that.


Love,
Allison

Nuts & Bolts

Hey friends,

I s'pose it's about time I told you all what actually goes on here in New Orleans, yeah?  Feel free to skim and/or skip this, but for those of you who are interested, here it goes...

The house.

There are six of us YAVs this year, but nine people in our house, which is owned by the Episcopal church next door. (Just a little different from three people in a Toolshed last year...) Two floors, seven bedrooms (two are empty, and all but one are shared), three bathrooms, red doors and a wonderful balcony just perfect for hammocking. We only have one stove and oven, which gets complicated with nine of us, but there are two refrigerators and two microwaves in two separate kitchen areas, so we're makin' it! The house has had several past lives: church office, duplex, rental house...

The roommates.

As I mentioned up there at the beginning, there are nine of us. Lauren, Eric, Ashley, Jillian, Emma and I are the YAVs, and we're joined by Tyrone, Bueana, and Laura who work with various programs in the city. The New Orleans YAVs are organized, as a site, through the Presbytery of South Louisiana. Links to my roomies' blogs (that I know about) are attached to their names, if you're interested. We hail from seven different states, and do all sorts of things in the city: saving the wetlands, hanging out with kids, managing volunteers that come  to help rebuild, visiting hospital patients, and even getting to know some of the many seafarers that come to port in New Orleans. You'll just have to stalk those blogs to learn more. :)

The job. 

This is old information for some of you, but I spend my days here in New Orleans working in the pastoral care department of a big hospital system. The system has approximately a billion different campuses (hospitals, clinics, you name it), but mainly I spend my time at the main campus visiting new patients and introducting them to the department. Patients move in and out pretty quickly, so there are always plenty of people to be visited. There are also a handful of other chaplains at the main campus, including some staff chaplains and some resident chaplains. Also, two mornings a week, I work at the hospital campus that's right across the street from our house, helping organize a new pastoral care library. Those are the basics, but surely I'll have more to say as the year goes on.

The city.

I'm not even going to try and fit New Orleans into a paragraph. Another post is coming soon about the Big Easy, but to tide you over (because I know you're all on the edge of your seats): Just having been here a month I can feel New Orleans working its way into my heart. She is a city full of character. Full of life, death, heartbreak, recovery, inspiration and so much more. Not to mention the seafood, inevitable U-turns (excuse me...Louisiana Lefts), and flexible definitions of "on time."

And that's it for now, friends. Apparently we have functioning internet in our house now, so I may just get around to posting some of the half-written blogs that have been staring at me for weeks!

Love,

Allison

Down In the Valley

My oh my has it been a busy two weeks, friends!

First, I left Nashville a couple weeks ago and headed for Montreat to lead a small group during the second week of this summer's youth conferences. Just like college conference back in January, this was my first youth conference at Montreat. Not on purpose really...we were just always busy when my church's youth group went. But, anyway. It was such a wonderful experience. I spent 3 hours a day leading a small group of 26 high school youth. Some discussion of keynotes and such, some just hanging out and having fun, some eating Dunkaroos (thanks, Black Mountain Dollar General). And as it turns out spending a couple summers as a camp counselor is excellent preparation for small group leading. Seriously though, I met so many wonderful/enthusiastic/inspiring youth, and on top of that met some awesome fellow small group leaders, made some YAV connections, spent some time with friends from Davidson, and got my fill of energizers (not that there's such a thing as too many of those...). And I mean, I tell ya. These conferences I keep going to keep directly applying to my life. Wondering Wanders? Searching For the Signal? Sheesh, Montreat.

From there I headed down the road to camp. Camp was...so so wonderful. But weird. Wonderful to see many of my close friends that are still on staff there, but weird to not be on staff with them. I was one of the first aid folks for the week, so I didn't get to do a ton of camp-y stuff, but I did have a thoroughly entertaining sea weed (or...lake weed?) battle with some 8 year olds in canoes on Lake Refuge. And I learned a new blessing. If you're interested in blessing your food a la Sponge Bob Squarepants, you just let me know. It really was wonderful though. Lovely to see the people I already knew and fun to meet some new ones. Hard to leave yet again, but I've got some more thoughts on that coming later.

Annnd approximately 7 hours after I got home to Davidson from camp, Mom and I were on our way to Ohio, from whence we'll be heading to Michigan tomorrow. I was telling my mom in the car ride up here that I feel like a lot of great/difficult/meaningful things have happened in the last two weeks, but I'm not quite sure I've had the time to process it all. So, we'll see what ends up on this here blog in the coming weeks. There's the last two weeks, and then the fact that when I get back to Tennessee in a week I'll have just one more month left in Nashville. After that, a week and a half in Davidson and it's off to New Orleans! I s'pose one day maybe I'll be in one place for a while...

Love,
Allison.

On the road again...

Come Saturday, I'll be heading back to the homeland (aka North Carolina) for three-ish weeks. I'm fortunate enough to have two weeks of "service to the greater church" built into my job description, largely because of the fact that most of PSF's students are gone for the summer. Workin' my way down I-40 I'm going to lead a small group at the Montreat youth conference next week, then a few miles down the road I'll spend a week volunteering at camp. After that I'll be using my remaining vacation days to go on a family reunion in Michigan.

I've realized that I have really mixed feelings about these upcoming adventures. Don't get me wrong, I'm eagerly awaiting rounding a curve on the interstate and catching my first glimpse of the North Carolina mountains, and getting to spend two weeks there. And I genuinely enjoy spending time with family (which I count as a major blessing). But I've also become quite attached to Nashville. And the other day I realized that, taking into account my upcoming traveling, I essentially have one month left in Nashville. One. That's not very long. At all.

And things will be different this time around, in the mountains. Montreat is familiar enough, but this will be my first time at a youth conference and I'm responsible for a small group. My only time spent at camp has been when I was on staff (not counting the half-week I went for way back in like 1995), and this time I'll be just a volunteer for the week. Seven days is a lot less than two months.

Adding to the strangeness of this year's camp experience, today I learned that camp's Site Supervisor (aka Maintenance Magician) passed away last night. Besides the fact that I'm pretty sure Dennis could fix anything that broke ever, he always just drove camp from project to project in his red truck waving and smiling and making friends. Surely something will feel a little off at camp this summer. For a long time probably, because Dennis, if you ask me, is a pretty irreplaceable person. Dennis, if you're reading blogs up there in heaven, we love you and we'll miss you so much. Thanks for being a wonderful person and for everything you did for camp. And to whoever happens to read this: please just keep Dennis' family in your thoughts and/or prayers, and throw a few prayers in the direction of the Camp Grier family and this year's summer staff as they start the summer off on this sad note.

All that said, as I mentioned in the beginning I think I'll still love my time in North Carolina and Michigan...I just didn't anticipate having such mixed emotions, I guess. Someone told me once, just a few weeks after I'd moved here, that I would fall in love with Nashville. And I'm fairly certain he was right.

We'll see how it goes, this processing that's going on right now. Not being ready to leave, but knowing how important to me the places I'm visiting are. Maybe I'm just getting ahead of myself, too. I do have all of July and a week of August to soak up Nashville after these upcoming adventures...

Love,
Allison

Tongues of Fire and YAVs and Stuff!

Pentacost. Celebrated 50 days after Easter it recognizes the end of the Easter season on the Christian liturgical calendar. (For folks unfamiliar with but interested in the occasion, here's what Wikipedia has to say.) And, in case you don't need Wikipedia's help but want a refresher on the biblical part of it all, check out Acts 2:1-6:

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each.

The thought occurred to me, rereading that just now, that that whole experience was probably a little bit terrifying for people there. I mean seriously...violent wind and then there's fire on people's heads? But, whether it was scary or not, people ended up (after some words from Peter recorded later in Acts) attributing the events as the work of the Holy Spirit, and thus begun the Church we have today. 

Anyway. The PC(USA) has an annual Pentacost offering that supports different mission programs of the denomination, including the YAV program. (It's one of a handful of "special offerings" throughout the year.)  I was inspired to write this particular post because a Nashville friend and YAVA put a link to this blog on Facebook. Given that you listen to me ramble about the YAV program plenty, I felt like I should share this other guy's thoughts too. So take a look, he's got a lot of good things to say.

Also there's this nifty video from PC(USA)'s website...fun fact: Robert in the video is from Davidson! Whooo Davidson! You can read about his experiences as a Hollywood YAV here.

So, I guess really the point of all this is just to encourage you, if you're a PC(USA) church-goer (or if you're not), to support the Pentacost offering this Sunday. You can also support the YAV program directly, or support a YAV individually...like...say...me going to New Orleans next year (info to the right if you want more on that). But seriously. Even if you just put a dollar in the offering plate, help the PC(USA) do good things in the world!

Also, in other news: brushing your teeth and then eating yogurt is a bad idea. Blech...
Love,
Allison

Walking In Memphis

Hello dearest friends!

Today for our YAV community time, our usual vocational discernment (discussing a book, talking with Janet, hearing from a guest speaker...) was replaced with a day trip to Memphis. Six YAVs and Susan, squished into a mini  van. (Those things seem way bigger when you're like seven...) While it was quite a lot of car time (about seven hours, total) I think we got some good stuff in while we were there.

We started off with a barbecue lunch at Rendezvous, which as it turns out is rather well known. And by that I mean mentioned in my book 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. So, that was cool. And delicious. We even got free red beans and rice! (We're fairly certain everyone gets them there....but. We also decided to pretend it was because they liked us.)

Then we made a pit stop across the street at the Peabody Hotel, which is coincidentally also famous. For ducks. That hang out in the lobby and apparently march in and out each day to music. We weren't there for the marching part, but we saw them chillin' in their fountain.

A quick trolley ride (mini impromptu photo shoot included) and then...

Lastly, and mostly (as in...the reason we went to Memphis is the first place), we spent time at the National Civil Rights Museum, which is installed in the same building that was once the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. It was so interesting to be in a place that brought together different parts of the civil rights movement in one coherent museum, and a pretty powerful place, too. Apparently other people agree, as the museum is also in the "USA & Canada" version of 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. But in all seriousness, it was almost overwhelming to stand just a wall of glass away from the exact balcony on which Dr. King was shot. Across the road from the Lorraine, you can look out the window from which that shot was fired and see evidence and information from the investigation. It was a great experience, and if you find yourself if Memphis, you should most definitely go.

And that was my Friday, folks.

Love,
Allison

Presbyterian Happenings

Hey friends,

If you're of the PC(USA) persuasion you've probably seen by now somewhere on the internet or elsewhere that a little over a week ago we passed Amendment 10-A. In case you haven't, and because other people are better at explaining it than I, this link has some good FAQs. Also here are comments from CNN and the New York Times. Basically though, the change adjusted ordination standards to allow for the inclusion of LGBT folks into ordained ministry.

This post, I think, is going to be more about my processing of the reactions that followed the 87th vote than it is on my actual opinions about the issue. But, in the interest of making this at least somewhat personally invested, I feel like I should tell you that I'm glad it passed. Really glad, actually.

Of course there have been reactions all over the spectrum to these happenings. Folks over at More Light Presbyterians are super stoked about it, while others call it "yet another tragedy." I think it's hard to remember, when you're so emotionally invested in an issue, to consider the people on the other side. I went with a couple of my fellow Nashville YAVs to a presbytery meeting and after the presbytery had voted on (and passed) 10-A, a man stood up and mentioned that he had been on "the losing side" before, and knows that it's not fun. (Or something to that effect.) And that makes sense. I mean if it hadn't passed and I had been surrounded by people celebrating that, I probably wouldn't feel awesome.

So, I don't know. After listening and reading and digesting all of these reactions, I really think I've found the most meaning in the ones that don't even support a particular side of the discussion and instead call for appreciating our differences. For example, after the amendment passed, 24 former moderators of the denomination signed this letter encouraging unity. You know, whether you're excited about 10-A or not, maybe we can all still be friends? I was recently at a gathering during which one person commented: "I may not have voted for Obama, but I didn't move to Canada either." And I think that makes a lot of sense. Another blog on 10-A reads: "We are united in Christ through our baptism, not our opinions. We are adopted into this family, this crazy, cranky, contentious, sometimes and unexpectedly beautiful family."  That same blog, though, says that maybe it's ok for some people to leave. Sure, the numbers aren't exactly stellar right now, but I can see the merit in not trying to force people to stay. I know there are plenty of family analogies in the world, but maybe that's because they make sense! Families disagree, families fight...maybe that one relative cuts everybody else off. But you know what? That family can still be a family. Hopefully, they can still sit down at the dinner table (or maybe a committee meeting?) and love each other. I also do not think it does any good at all to be in a Church with just people like ourselves. The key is for both sides to realize they have room to grow. Which can be really really hard for a lot of people (myself included). The nay-sayers must push themselves to be more open-minded, while the people voting yes must challenge themselves to remember that there are some people pretty upset with and scared for the church right now, and they need some love too.

Really I'm not sure exactly how to condense the thoughts floating around in my head, and I'm pretty sure I just keep typing myself in circles. But I also wish I was courageous enough to have this conversation with more people face-to-face. I don't have the slightest clue why I can type things here that I'm too scared to say to a good friend. But I can. That's not to say I haven't had my fair share of "Oh yay 10-A passed!" conversations with people who I know agree with me. But I feel like sometimes I'm just too scared to stick up for it when I know a really intense conversation could come out of it. It's the Peacemaker in me I suppose (enneagram anybody?), but it's super frustrating sometimes. My mind says what I believe, but in an effort to avoid confrontation I end up mumbling my way through some as-neutral-as-possible statement. Then I just end up frustrated and embarrassed that I couldn't stick up for it, if for nothing else than the people I know who care about it even more deeply than I. So anyway. Maybe people will read this and find this part cowardly and maybe a little bit ridiculous. But it is what it is, and for some reason I can say that here.

All of this is to say that I'm excited and hopeful for the PC(USA). While I don't think this discussion is anywhere near over, I'm thinking this is a pretty big step for us. A good big step. Granted, I don't know exactly where that step is going, or how long it'll take to process...but the fact that the question got asked in the first place, and that there are enough people voting yes in presbyteries out there to have a majority? That means there are a lot of people out there who are for making our denomination even just a little more welcoming. And that's a lovely feeling.

So that's that. If anybody wants to force me into a confrontational (or friendly) conversation feel free to, but I just probably won't be the one starting it...

Love,
Allison

On Recent Events

Unless you're living under a rock, you know by now that a US military operation managed to kill Osama bin Laden last night. Watching the announcement on the news and the American reactions that ensued, a lot of things have been tumbling around in my mind. I'm going to try and tread lightly here, because I get that it's a huge deal. And I want to make it clear that I'm not saying I think bin Laden should still be alive running around able to kill more people right now.

But what are the theological implications of the way we've been reacting to this news? I'm glad I live in America...really. It's a comfortable, privileged place in which to grow up. But I'm pretty sure God doesn't hang out up there in heaven wearing a USA t-shirt, holding a Bud Light in one hand and using the other to toss lightning bolts down at anyone who messes with us. Call me crazy, but I'm fairly certain that's not the way it works.

One friend pointed out that whether we like it or not, bin Laden was a child of God too. And I mean, really, he was. Was he a good person? Obviously not. Did he do really awful, horrible things? Yeah. But I don't think God would rejoice in the death of any of God's children, no matter how evil his or her deeds.

Another friend pointed out that the way many Americans are reacting to news of bin Laden's death is eerily similar to the way some people in the Middle East reacted to the 9/11 attacks. I mean think about it. Huge gatherings in streets full of people holding flags and cheering against a political figure...

I want to reiterate that I'm not trying to say Osama bin Laden was a good person, or that I'm not relieved that he can no longer cause harm and violence in the world. But I just cannot bring myself to enthusiastically join in celebration for the "success" of killing. I also think there's a lot of "mission accomplished" talk going around...and while this particular event is perhaps a step in fighting terrorism, I'm also pretty sure an entire terrorist organization is not going to crumble because their leader was killed. 

So...I don't know. I'm still trying to figure this all out, both how I feel about it personally and how I should correctly approach it in the context of my faith. Maybe it's even too touchy of a topic to be rambling about on the internet. But those are my thoughts for now, however fragmented they may be. I just think all these recent events deserve some serious consideration, deeper than the surface reactions. Biblical food for thought:

Do not rejoice when your enemies fall,
and do not let your heart be glad when they stumble

Proverbs 24:17

Love,

Allison

Provocative Hope

Today I tagged along with Jennifer as "the intern" to a meeting. This particular gathering was a group of clergy who work in West Nashville. They were coming together to discuss beginning a group of people of faith to organize as a community and fight against various problems they see in Nashville. Homelessness, food deserts, speaking out against bills up for vote on Tennessee's capitol hill, you name it.

The most magnificent thing about this, however, is that these clergy included Christian ministers, Jewish rabbis, and a Muslim imam. Women and men, different races too.

Here we are in a world where some people think it's okay to burn a Qur'an (I mean really?), where sometimes women still get paid less than men, and where racism is still alive and well. But here is this group, truly trying to grow with one another.

I'm sure there are plenty of people that disagree with this union, and plenty of people that would not be not willing to engage in what I think are essential interfaith experiences. To each his (or her) own, but I really believe that there is so much to be learned from people of faith whose traditions are different from our own. And to be learned from people not of faith, for that matter. I am by no means saying we should drop everything and change our whole belief systems. I'm still Christian. But I cannot bring myself to automatically condemn someone just because he or she doesn't like Jesus as much as I do. We're all people, and we're all on the journey, longing for something to guide us as we stumble through this crazy world. These opinions of mine are in all likelihood largely because I have good friends that subscribe to a multitude of religions (and who have varying degrees of aversion to religions in general). But those are

It is so so inspiring to me to see God at work in Nashville and in this group I witnessed this morning. Sure, people in the room disagree on some major issues. But the fact that they are willing to take the first step in putting those aside (for now) to be able to address issues they can agree on is a lovely thing, and I find it encouraging that it seems I'm not the only one that thinks so. One woman at this morning's meeting described the fact that this kind of meeting was taking place as "provocative and hopeful." I don't think I could've said it better. It's pushing the boundaries, doing something unusual. But however small it begins, hope is there too, for a dialogue of faiths that everyone can benefit from.

Love,
Allison

Jesus was a cool dude...

Well, I feel rather hypocritical that I blogged about not forgetting the hard stuff that happens during Holy Week and only said a few things about Good Friday. But, I'd feel weird writing about Good Friday now, since it's already Easter. I'll just have to promise a Good Friday blog next year.

This Easter has been interesting. Good, but strange because for the first time in my life, I am not with my family today. I mean, I am, in a way, since I think at this point I consider some people here a family of sorts. But you know what I mean. But like I said, it has indeed been good. Today started with a "sunrise" service down at Room In the Inn's Campus for Human Development. (I use the quotation marks only because by the time the service started at 7am the sun was already up.) 2PC co-sponsored it, so there were a lot of familiar faces. The wonderful thing though is that there were unfamiliar ones too. A good number of Room In the Inn participants were there along with folks from 2PC and other Nashville churches. It was such a wonderful mix of people, dressed in everything from dresses and ties to whatever clothes a person had happened to find at a donation center. I noticed the communion table too, which as it seemed sort paralleled the crowd that was there. The pretty standard ceramic chalice and table cloth, next to the plastic pitcher of grape juice from the kitchen, and the bread still in the foil plate it came on. It all went together quite beautifully if you ask me.

After helping serve breakfast to some participants after the service, Mary Kate and I headed back to 2PC for breakfast! Though we didn't actually contribute anything ourselves, it was technically a potluck so there was quite the array of delicious things. Drank some coffee, filled our bellies and after a quick trip to Vandy to pick up a student I was back for the 11am service. I forgot how crazy church is on Easter. New vocab word I learned today: Chreasters. Pronounced like...kreester. C&E's. Christmas/Easter people. It's kind of wonderful. Regular Sundays are lovely enough, but to have people spilling out of the sanctuary? Kiiiind of exciting. And everybody's all happy and excited and the choir busts out the happiest parts of their repertoires. I'm not one to talk outwardly about Jesus all the time, mainly because I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to shove Christianity down anybody's throat. But friends, at least for me, this is what it's all about. Like...no wonder everybody's so happy on Easter. No wonder I couldn't help but smile during most of the service(s) this morning. To know that no matter how much we mess up, how much we struggle, things will be ok and we will be loved? That is awesome. And I don't mean awesome like "oh dude that tie dye is awesome." (Though that statement is totally legit.) I mean that I am in awe of how wonderful that that is.

We spent dinner at Mary Kate's 2PC adoptive family's house, and it was just really lovely to get some home cooked food and hang out in a real living room with a family. Granted it obviously wasn't my house, but it was nice, to say the least, to be in some sort of pleasant homey setting on Easter. All in all a joyful day indeed.

All sortsa Easter Love,
Allison

My adoptive 2PC mom kindly dedicated a lily in the sanctuary to me.
Now the Toolshed has a real live plant for decoration!

P.S. - The title of this post is inspired by a camp song called "Jesus Was a Cool Dude." Sing it to the tune of "We Will Rock You." And ideally stomp and clap just like the real song...

Jesus was a cool dude

Forty days with no food

He wrote the golden rule

And that's okay

He's got blood on His face

Thanks for the grace 

Spreadin' His love all over the place 

Singin' we will, we will praise Him (whoop!) [the whoops are important!]

Praise Him (whoop!)  

We will, we will praise Him (whoop!)

Praise Him (whoop!) 

...yeah. You're welcome for that. Happy Easter, friends.