As a state, you seem to be doing a decent job of making some pretty big waves lately. Not the good fun beachy kind of waves, either.
But before we get to that, I need to say this: You gave me the Avett Brothers, Cookout, Cheerwine, delicious BBQ and a hometown halfway between the beach and the mountains. I've often bragged about you, and have always been delighted when folks from other states gush about you..."Oh, I've heard it's just beautiful there." In the past six years I haven't spent more than a summer with you at one time, but you are still home.
Despite all that, I sat with tears in my eyes last week, because for the first time in my life I could not honestly say that I'm proud to call you home. I sat reading the reactions of anger, disappointment, and pain from so many of the beautiful, intelligent, loving people on whom you seem to have turned your back. And you've managed to do that in large part by claiming a Christian God as your primary motivator in an "issue" that isn't quite your business in the first place. I certainly don't claim to know everything, especially about God, but a God that would turn so harshly away from so many people is very different than the one that I know. All of that, however, is perhaps best saved for another day. My parents used to pull this one on me when I overreacted to their scolding: I still love you, I just don't love your actions right now.
But I refuse to give up on you. And you should know that this conversation is not over.
For the brief time I spent with you this past weekend, I was able to feel comfortable. Comfortable is by no means always good. In fact most times it's probably not, and the reality of Amendment One remains wedged in my mind. But this year in New Orleans has been uncomfortable in many ways, and to spend two nights in a cozy, familiar town and house was wonderful. Your trees and green hills were a sight for sore eyes. And it is precisely because I love you that I am not willing to give up on you.
If everyone just up and left when they disagreed with the person next to them, conversations would never get anywhere. So I think I'll stay.
I'm not saying this conversation will be easy or that it will be over any time soon. But after Amendment One passed, I saw and heard a lot of comments that condemned you, as an entire state. Sometimes these comments came from states with similar marriage precedents already set, others from elsewhere. Whether these commentators weren't aware that there are people like me who disagree with you or whether they chose to ignore that fact, I think we can agree that it'd be best if the things people (and national newspapers) are saying about you were positive, yeah? Can I relate to their discontent with recent events? Of course. But you are not hopeless.
I know that change does not come comfortably or immediately. I am also not so bold as to assume that me writing this will change your mind, or that my one tiny voice will by itself change the tides of discrimination. But I know that I am far from alone where I stand here. I care about you, my dear North Carolina. And I think that, someday, we'll be alright.
First, some context. Currently, for those of you who might be unaware, gay marriage is at the forefront of many political conversations happening in my home state (that'd be North Carolina). On May 8th, North Carolinians who who head to the polls will find on their ballots a proposed amendment to the state's constitution (Amendment One, to be exact). Folks will be voting for or against the following language: Marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this State. This section does not prohibit a private party from entering into contracts with another private party; nor does this section prohibit courts from adjudicating the rights of private parties pursuant to such contracts. With this particular wording, gay and lesbian couples aren't the only ones that will be affected. (Read more about that in a New York Times editorial here.) There's more to this amendment than gay marriage. But since that particular facet seems to be a main point of disagreement between sides in the debate, it is mainly what I mention here. And I write this acknowledging that these are my own opinions, knowing that not everyone will agree with what I say completely or even a little bit.
First of all, I feel like I need to say that personally, I don't think who marries whom should even be a political issue in the first place. Or any sort of issue. The way I see it, marriage is a very intimate thing between two people who love each other. Folks are going to love whomever they're going to love, whether or not they can get a document to prove it. I just feel like there are so many other things that we could be pouring our political and emotional energy in to (trying to combat poverty and violence, improving education...). If you ask me, we need to be filling our lives with efforts to help people, not hurt them. One Charlotte Observer article that I'd highly recommend you checking out: "No one is hurt by gay marriage". (If that didn't tip you off, and in the interest of full disclosure: I voted against Amendment One.)
The fact of the matter is that, whether it should be or not, this is an ongoing debate, and realistically, it is unfortunately one that will probably be continuing for a while. So I'll settle with clarifying that my words here are not my attempt at telling other people that they have to believe exactly the same things I do, nor are they an effort to start any hostile arguments. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. Sure, I wish everybody agreed with me on this, but these words are simply my attempt at taking part in the conversation.
Almost as controversial as the amendment itself are the arguments that religion should or should not play a part in the discussion. Friends, whether we want it to be or not, religion is part of the discussion. The thoughts and actions of a person with a firm (or not so firm) set of spiritual convictions will undoubtedly be influenced by those beliefs. Seeing as most major world religions have some form of a treat-your-neighbor-as-yourself commandment, religious influence on our actions can, in theory, be a good thing. But of course that's not always the case.
Given our propensity to include our faith in the way we make decisions, church leaders are in a powerful spot. I know not everybody out there is voting or speaking out of faith-filled motivation, and that is totally cool. Regardless, spirituality is a very real part of many people, many cultures, and the ways we live our lives. Church leaders on both sides of the Amendment One conversation have not let this go unnoticed.
Clergy and other people of faith are speaking out in favor of Amendment One...
...and against it. (In addition to the video below, you can read this letter signed by five different religious leaders in Davidson.)
Without a doubt, my religious beliefs are a major motivation behind the way I voted on this amendment. We are called to love one another. And that includes all of the "anothers" with which we share this earth, whether we agree or disagree with another's lifestyle or political views or the fact that they like the beach instead of the mountains. We are called to love one another.
I find myself struggling daily with judging people who judge people. I see or hear someone speaking harsh or hateful words about another person or group of people and instantly the wheels start turning..."Oh, he/she is so judgemental. How could anyone say something like that? He/she clearly doesn't understand how Jesus taught us to live." Who the heck made me the authority on that?! Or at the very least, I'll hear these people and think "Stop arguing! Just get along! Why are you being so mean?!" Uh...I hate to break it to you folks (and self), but that whole "love your neighbor" deal? Sometimes our neighbors include our enemies. Besides, Jesus didn't exactly pick the most popular kids on the block to make friends with.
Speaking from my own personal Christian context, I think that the Church as a whole has such wonderful potential to be an advocate for change. I don't mean to go out and change everybody to be just like us. I don't mean that at all. What I mean is that we have been given such grace, mercy and love that it is only fitting we share it. With everyone. This is a very difficult task, and by no means always fun. But this world is so full of hurt and exclusion and judgment, that wouldn't it magnificent if we didn't add to that? This morning in church, we sang a hymn called "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love." My heart broke a little when I saw that title in the bulletin, because the first thing I thought when I read it: "Well...that might not always be true." So friends, if you are those viewing Amendment One through a Christian lens, I urge you to work towards making the title of that hymn a reality. And if it's another lens you're looking through, maybe just try and operate under the assumption that helping and including people is generally a better idea than hurting and excluding them.
While it should be clear by now that I hope Amendment One won't pass, my primary motivation for writing this isn't to try and shove that down your throats. Of course I would encourage those of you who are registered to vote in North Carolina to consider voting against it, but it is your prerogative to think and vote as you wish. What I urge you to do, more than just vote the same way I did, is to continue moving forward in this conversation (which is by no means confined to one state or faith community) with open minds and open hearts. This is not just a North Carolinian discussion, not just a religious discussion. Regardless of the current amendment up for voting in North Carolina, there are laws in many, many states (North Carolina included) that prohibit gay and lesbian couples from getting married. And in my opinion, it is only through thoughtful and genuine conversation that we as a society can move forward.
Love, Allison
PS - If you're into music and interested in hearing more from the "against" side of this conversation, here are a couple videos I think you'll enjoy. The first is a song about the amendment, with thoughtful comments sprinkled in from various North Carolinians. The second is "NC Amendment One: The Musical!!" And it's just awesome.
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!
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.)
I recently heard a song by The Lumineers called "Stubborn Love." The song as a whole is about a romantic relationship, but there's one line that jumped out at me and got the wheels turning, so to speak.
The opposite of love's indifference.
The opposite of love isn't hate, but indifference. Not an entirely new idea, I don't think, but one that is too often overlooked. Most people probably/hopefully realize we should avoid living lives full of hate. But it's a lot harder to avoid indifference.
If we are called to love one another and to care for one another, who can justify turning a blind eye to those in need? I don't just mean our homeless brothers and sisters or refugees or New Orleanians trying to come home after the storm. Of course those people are all included, but what about the friend that has a sick family member, or the kid whose parents are going through a divorce, or that guy at work who just looks kind of sad sometimes? Sure, different people need different kinds of love and support depending on their personalities. Not everybody wants to sit down with you and spill their proverbial guts. Maybe a smile in their direction is enough. Maybe saying good morning to the people you pass on your walk to work is enough. The point is that even if you're not speaking or acting negatively towards someone, it doesn't automatically mean you're loving them as much as you could be. Whatever form our love for one another takes, I think we should be stubbornly consistent in sharing it. But that is quite the task, if all it takes to fail is indifference.
I can genuinely say that I wouldn't trade this year for anything, but there have definitely been (and are still) times when I have felt indifferent towards certain people or situations. I mean, indifference seems pretty neutral, right? Certainly not an ideal frame of mind, but not particularly detrimental towards anybody? At least that's what I figured. Maybe that's why that particular line in this song stuck out so much. If to be indifferent is to be unloving, that's an attitude I'd really like to avoid.
This past weekend several roommates and I went to an event celebrating Project Homecoming's fifth anniversary. In addition to serving up a pot of gumbo that seemed big enough for me to sit in, part of the evening included some words about the the rebuilding organization's history so far. Some of those words came from a woman who was one of the first five homeowners to benefit from Project Homecoming's post-Katrina rebuilding work. After enthusiastically expressing her thanks, she continued: "This is what God wants from us, ya know? To love each other and take care of each other."
It's as simple and as difficult as that, friends.
Love,
Allison
PS - Here's the song, for those who are interested. These guys (and gal) have some good stuff goin' on.
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.
I've got several half-written blog posts in limbo currently, but for now I just want to share some words I read in Common Prayer, which if you aren't familiar is a great book of prayers and liturgy put together by Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, and Enuma Okoro. As I digested these words on Sunday afternoon in the company of a nice breeze on our balcony, I found that this take on Palm Sunday was one that really resonated with me. And if you are here reading, you're probably at least a little interested in the things that resonate with me. So without further ado, I give you 8th century martyr Andrew of Crete...
"Let us say to Christ: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel. Let us wave before him like palm branches the words inscribed above him on the cross. Let us show him honor, not with olive branches, but with the splendor of merciful deeds to one another. Let us spread the thoughts and desires of our hearts under his feet like garments, so that he may draw the whole of our being into himself and place the whole of his in us."
Even though Palm Sunday has passed and we are approaching the more somber events of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday (of course to be followed by the joy of Easter), I'm hoping I can remember these words and carry them with me far past Holy Week.
Confession: I'm not the best at keeping up with spiritual practices like regular prayer and personal devotions. And by "not the best" I mean I'm kind of terrible at it. Granted, my journaling for Lent has been a good practice that I hope to continue, but it isn't always spiritual, per se. I go about my life and each year, Lent and Holy Week come around and I'm like "Oh. Right. This is a huge deal." Similar to a New Year's resolution, I become determined to be a more regularly spiritual person, whatever that might look like. And similar to those New Year's resolutions, not a month after Easter I'm right back where I was, all caught up in whatever's happening around me.
I think it's okay to be caught up in what's happening around us. To be present in the moments we're living. More than okay. I think that's kind of essential to living life. But maybe the key is to be just as caught up in the inherent spirituality that is in each of those moments. For me, part of that means being merciful towards others because Jesus is merciful towards me, and being honest with God about my thoughts, hopes, and worries. And by "being" I mean "trying to be." I fail frequently.
But it is my hope that I can carry with me this new (to me) figurative view of Palm Sunday. I don't know if that means journaling more often about overtly spiritual things, or remembering God in acts of kindness, or something entirely different that I've yet to figure out. But here's to a week that's inspired me to try.
Love,
Allison
A doodley little palm branch from Sunday's journal entry.
(The words are a song frequently sung at YAV gatherings...sanna is a shortened form of "hosanna.")
We had our monthly community day this past Saturday, and as part of the devotion during our shared meal at the end of the day, we watched a TED talk entitled "The Danger of a Single Story." It's just under 20 minutes long, but if you've got the time, I'd highly suggest you take a look (See? it's right here, just for you!).
In her talk, author Chimamanda Adichie discusses the downfalls of approaching any person or situation from just one point of view, and how these singular points of view can be major roadblocks in our ability to understand and relate to one another. We watched at least part of this video at YAV orientation back in the fall, but it was great to have the space to watch the whole thing and talk about it with my housemates.
Our particular discussion of the single stories we have come in to contact with ourselves was one that still has me thinking. What are the single stories that people believe about us? About you? What single stories do you believe about others? There are single stories based on age, race, sexual orientation, and just about any other group you can think of. Young people, old people, Southerners, Christians, rich people, poor people, New Orleanians, Republicans, Democrats...you name it. And as easy as it is to list certain single stories that people have believed about me, I am absolutely just as guilty of believing them about others.
I'd just encourage you to take some time and watch the video, and think about what single stories are part of your life, and what you might do to get rid of them. Adichie argues the following, at the end of her talk: "...when we reject the single story, when we realize that there is never a single story about any place, we regain a kind of paradise."
Get to know each other. Have conversations, build relationships, and be open to learning new things about one another. After all, life would be terribly dull if everyone had the same story. Storytelling is something at which New Orleanians are very (very) proficient. Sure, this danger of a single story is present here just as anywhere else, but there seem to be very few people who will hesitate in sharing at least part of their history. This can be good or bad, depending on how much of a hurry you're in on that particular day, but it is a general openness that I admire. Maybe try and give it a go sometime, yeah?
Love,
Allison
P.S. - There are tons of great TED talks out there, on plenty of different topics, so I'd suggest you head on over to their website if you're looking for something to do. One of my favorites is spoken-word poet Sarah Kay's "If I should have a daughter..."
Well, I'm a little late on the uptake for Lent this year. At least as far as blogging's concerned. My oh my, have things been busy around here lately!
Firstly, I officially survived my first Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Carnival season seems, to me, very similar to Christmas. There are weeks and weeks of build up and celebration, decorations in stores and every other way there is to celebrate...then the day itself comes along and BAM! It's over. Mardi Gras doesn't just end, either. Now it's Lent, which I think in theory is about as opposite from Carnival as you can get. I still want to share a few more things about Mardi Gras (pictures too, once I steal them from my roommates...), but you'll have to be patient with me on that one. I know you're all (all three of you*...hey Mom) on the edge of your seats waiting. Hang in there.
Since the Mardi Gras festivities ended, I've roadtripped up to Georgia for a weekend, entertained some friends from home, and become an expert at ignoring the growing mound of laundry that needs to be done. That last one will be catching up to me soon...
It seems as though all of these happenings have made it extra challenging to remember Lent this year. Having recently been gifted a really lovely journal, I decided I'd give journaling a go for Lent. It's a discipline I've often wished to observe, but have never been...well, disciplined enough...to keep up. And while I appreciate the sentiment behind sacrificing a thing or two for the season, I've recently become a fan of adding a particular practice instead. So, acknowledging that I have failed more than once at making journaling a part of my life, I decided writing something four times a week seemed equal parts challenging and realistic. Well, so much for the realistic part. I've written off and on, but found myself thinking "oh, I'm busy today, I'll write tomorrow." But isn't that the point of Lent? To be intentional about remembering Christ and his death and resurrection in the midst of life's craziness? Then again, I feel like a lot of Lenten sacrifices or additions tend to have ulterior motives ("I need to eat healthier food, so I'll give up dessert for Lent." or, hypothetically, "I've always wanted to journal, so I'll journal for Lent and hope the habit sticks!"). Oops.
Either way, I haven't given up on journaling. I have given up trying to count four days in each week, and made the switch to daily journaling (three days strong...I'm on a roll!). Also in attempts to actually follow through, I made myself a nice little cup full of journal prompts I found online, some of which are more introspective and challenging than others. I'm not sure I'm writing anything life-changing or all that important, but I'm writing. (I ignored the prompts last night and just wrote a page or so about coffee...) I'm not sure the kind of journaling I'm doing counts as a spiritual discipline exactly, or if it's the "right" way to observe Lent, but it's been rather nice to have another place to ramble. We'll see how it goes.
Rather unrelated: Since when is it March?! Well I mean. Since five days ago. But you know what I mean. It's hard to believe that it's been more than six months since orientation at Stony Point. That's half a year that I've been living in New Orleans. The five months that remain in my YAV year seem all at once like no time at all and like quite the stretch. Funny how that works. There's plenty of time to talk about that later, though.
Love,
Allison.
*Upon hearing reactions from this post I can officially confirm that at least five people read this blog. Makin' it big time!
Just on principle, really. It's not that I'm against an excuse to dote upon the people you care about, but it seems odd to me that we feel like we need a holiday to do that. Disclaimer: I realize that Valentine's Day has a historical context and background and therefore wasn't completely invented by Hallmark. But it just seems a little off that our ultimate day to show people we love them involves rushing to the store to buy mass-produced giant teddy bears holding heart-shaped pillows. Granted, I like candy just as much as the next girl, but geez.
Maybe it's just that we get so wrapped up in day-to-day life that it's good to have a reminder to tell people we love them. Like going on retreats...we need somebody to sit us down and remind us that it's not just about going to work and coming home or making straight A's or trying to save the world. I can get on board with that. Even then, I am still convinced Valentine's Day shouldn't be just red and pink stuff blanketing every store in sight. So maybe all those stores could ditch the pre-fabricated cards and light-up singing artificial roses (nice, Walgreens.) and instead have piles and piles of craft supplies. Construction paper, doilies, magazines to cut up, glue sticks...the whole shebang! Because I would venture a guess that most people would value a hand made card with your own words over a Hallmark one, even if your art skills aren't the best. Or go ahead and buy the card (there are some good ones out there), but put a mix CD in the envelope too (don't laugh, you know you love 'em). I get that not everybody's into crafting things, but there are plenty of ways to make this day (and all the other ones) personal.
I'm also of the opinion that Valentine's Day doesn't have to just be about a significant other. Remember the good ol' days in kindergarten, when everybody gave everybody Valentines? Even if you didn't like little Susie, you were going to sign your name on that little card and stick it in her decorated box. Of course there was also the strategic decision-making of who would get which card, because heaven forbid little Johnny actually discover that you have a crush on him! Anyway, little Johnny is beside the point. Think about the people in your life that you love. I'm going to venture a guess that that list contains more than one name. So today, or any other day of the year, take advice from Cool People Care and send a letter, make a phone call, or even text those people and tell them that you appreciate them. Mayyybe even take the time to wish a happy Valentine's Day to the people you have trouble appreciating, too.
So there you have it, my largely unorganized thoughts on this February holiday. I s'pose it's not that I dislike the idea of Valentine's day, just the store-bought version of the holiday. By all means take the time to celebrate, just don't forget that you're allowed to show people that you love them on other days, too.
I meant to post this on Thanksgiving, but clearly did not. The week before Turkey Day, the Pastoral Care Department hosted Thanksgiving services at a handful of Ocshner campuses. Granted, there were only a few people at the one I helped with, but one of the resident chaplains shared a great reflection on what it means to be thankful, and what it means to be greatful (as it turns out, those two things can be quite different). Her reflection included this poem:
Be Thankful
author unknown
Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire.
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don't know everything,
for it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations,
because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge
because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes.
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary,
because it means you've made a difference.
Now, this poem said a lot to me. This year hasn't been easy. While I'm feeling settled in to New Orleans and while I'm pretty sure I start going through legitimate withdrawal when I go too long without talking to my roommates, work has been hard. Maybe more on that later, but for now: it is just so good to have a reminder that those difficulties are alright. That difficulties are something to be thankful for, and that even though this year has certainly been and will continue to be harder than last, it is important and educational and valuable. I have things to look forward to, things to learn, and so many more chances to grow and challenge myself. Hopefully somewhere in there I can manage to make a difference, too.
Here's the thing though. Why did Thanksgiving have to happen for me to really comprehend that reminder? Maybe my tardiness in posting these comments can be the start of remembering to be thankful on days other than the fourth Thursday in November. Maybe not, but I sure intend on trying. Care to join me?
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.
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."
This past Sunday was a big day for the PC(USA), friends. On Sunday Amendment 10-A officially went into effect (along with another amendment changing denomination's Form of Government). I've written about 10-A before, but in case you missed it, check out this post for some links to basic info and other people's thoughts. Also as I've mentioned before, 2PC is a More Light congregation so naturally folks were pretty excited on Sunday. The sermon, given by two people with strong ties to 2PC and 10-A, was absolutely wonderful, and full of emotion and courage. You can listen to it here if you're interested.
There was a lot of talk about how we need to get rid of the barriers we humans have built up--that those barriers were destroyed when a certain friend of ours came along (you may have heard of him...went by the name of Jesus?). And I couldn't agree more. I mean, whatever higher power you believe in (or don't believe in), I just don't think we're all meant to be separated and hating on each other. I was struck by the beauty of communion on this particular Sunday morning, and yet again by how beautiful a thing a community like Second can be.
Maybe everybody in the room isn't sure how they feel about 10-A, or how they feel about whatever other issue is at the forefront of discussion. Maybe everybody in the room is struggling with different things--money, family, what the heck they'll be doing a year from now...
Maybe everybody in the room has a chance every Sunday morning for all of those things to not matter.
You might as well just take the maybe out of that last sentence. Here we are this collection of people, young and old, employed and jobless, strong in our faith or questioning. But it doesn't matter. Come communion time, just forget those divisions and go on up there and get yourself some bread of life!
At some point during the service we heard the phrase "live in hope." I'd be lying if I said I could remember where (sermon, a prayer...who knows. Sorry!). But those words stuck with me. Sitting there in the pew I thought about the difference between what it might mean to be hopeful, and what it might mean to live in hope. I s'pose we can be hopeful without really making that much of a commitment. I'm hopeful that test turns out well, I'm hopeful that boy likes me...whatever it is. You hope it works out, but maybe it's not the end of the world if it doesn't.
But to live in hope! To give your whole life to being hopeful. That is something different. To constantly be hoping for a more loving world, to be hoping that things will get better, to be hoping that every single person can find a place where they are loved and accepted for being just who they are, whether that's in a church community or elsewhere.
So, I think I'll try and live in hope, friends. I'm living in hope that God will continue to move through the YAV program, through 2PC, through the greater church and through the world. Not sayin' I'll be perfect at it. But if anything's worth a little effort I figure this is.
Love,
Allison
PS- Apparently, as I've been informed, "Live In Hope" was the last hymn of the morning.
This morning was Confirmation Sunday at 2PC. Depsite the fact that don't actually know any of the confirmands personally, it got me thinking. Thinking about how lovely church communities are, how important they are, and how powerful they are.
I feel like I should say first, though, that I am aware of how truly lucky I am to have been a part of congregations that I am comfortable in and that love and accept me. I know that's not always the case, and that different people have different experiences and views on going to church. But here are my thoughts...
This morning there was a part of the confirmation part of the service during which the confirmands spread out down the aisles, and the congregation laid hands on them to pray for them and welcome them into the church as members. Now...laying on of hands can be awkward. At least I think so. But that could be because I rarely like being the center of attention. I can also say, though, that I think to be prayed for is an incredibly meaningful thing, and the added aspect of physical contact can make it even more special. There we were, a whole congregation connecting literally and figuratively to 2PC's newest members.
At one of the last PSF worship services of the year, there was a commissioning service for a student who will be a YAV in Guatemala next year (her blog is here...check it out come fall!), and for me (as I'm heading to New Orleans in August). As we knelt facing the front of the chapel, the other students that were there walked up and put their hands on us (or on someone whose hands were on us), and Jennifer said a prayer for our upcoming journeys.
Now, I met these people in early September. That's not all that long to have known them, but if we're going to be honest here I almost cried during that prayer. (Almost.) It was so wonderful and a little overwhelming the amount of support I felt just from our modest little Tuesday night church of college students.
Who knows if this morning's confirmands had the same powerful experience, but I sure hope they did.
I just think it has given me so much joy to be part of these loving communities, that I hope everybody else out there can find one (or a couple) too. And I mean maybe that doesn't even mean church church. Sure PSF and camp don't have their own church buildings but they sure as heck are just as meaningful to me. And I'm not saying it doesn't count unless a whole congregation lays their hands on you. I just think Jesus was serious when he talked about being together.
For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.
Walking from my car to the office yesterday, I noticed this right at a busy intersection:
They're thistles.
I've mentioned, before, an organization called Thistle Farms. Check the link for more info if you missed the last post. You can also follow them on Twitter. Thistle Farms produces all natural bath and body products, and is associated with an organization called Magdalene (follow the same link for info on that). Magdalene is a program for women recovering from lives of prostitution and addiction. Where the thistles come in: the thistle serves as their symbol because it grows in rough conditions. As a weed it is often unwanted as it pops up out of concrete, or in a tiny patch of grass between two busy roads. Hard to get rid of, it can survive with very little nourishment and in the end grow into beautiful flowers. If you're interested in hearing more, NPR just did a series about Magdalene and Thistle Farms. Listen here.
So, after noticing these particular thistles (and getting a little excited just because I knew exactly what they were), it struck me how beautiful they really are. And how the world could really use some beauty right about now. With so much violence and destruction, whether by human hand or nature's, we could really use some nice, sturdy beauty. I've still been thinking about all of the different reactions to Osama bin Laden's death (scroll down a post), and the awful storms and destruction in Alabama and the surrounding areas. And wouldn't you know, just days after the storms and the very day after the President's announcement about bin Laden, here's God saying "Oh hey friend, what's up? I'm here."
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
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.
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.
Maybe you all know the definition of the word maundy already. But since for some reason I feel totally comfortable sharing things here on the internet, I'm telling you that I sat at 2PC tonight halfway through the Maundy Thursday service realizing that I had no idea what the word actually means. I mean I know that Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper (which led to the communion we celebrate today, every first Sunday, and the occasional other church holiday), and is also the origin of foot washing. Well, speaking of foot washing...
I've heard of foot washing before, and foot washing was part of the last staff devo of the summer at camp both years I worked there. But I don't know that I actually realized the real connection between foot washing and Maundy Thursday. I mean for goodness' sake, it's the definition! If you're unfamiliar with foot washing, there's a handy dandy link to the Wikipedia article on it in my last post. I think I never really made the connection because, at least as far as I can recall, I don't think I've ever been to a Maundy Thursday service that involved foot washing, until this year. The idea though is that Jesus ends up turning the tables on his friends, his disciples, and he washes their feet. Usually a job for servants, this caused quite the stir (which it turns out was not an unusual reaction to Jesus' actions). The point though, is that we are all called to be humble servants. I think the number of ways humble servanthood can manifest itself are infinite, and I think it applies to even the most important and influential of us. And that's a indispensable idea, within the Christian context or not.
Another thing I noticed tonight at the service is that the term "night of love" kept coming up. It surprised me at first, because I think I associate Maundy Thursday and Good Friday with each other. I mean obviously they're related, but the truth is that, at least until Jesus gets to Gethsemane, Maundy Thursday was a good time. Serious. But good. Full of Jesus' love for his disciples (which I suppose in turn means all of us). After Jesus washes the disciples' feet, he says: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35) Now, I'm not trying to undermine the seriousness of Maundy Thursday and the betrayal, trial, and crucifixion that happen after the Last Supper. (Scroll down a couple posts for thoughts on why the sad stuff is important.) But I think I've also realized that our knowledge of what is coming in the next few days can sometimes overshadow the wonderful spirit of community and love that was present at the Last Supper. I mean, Jesus knew what was up. He knew what was coming. But if he wash feet and say all this of love, surely we can too.
