A Different Take on Giving Thanks

Hey friends!

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?

Love,

Allison

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

Goin' Down the Bayou

Hey friends!

This past weekend Lauren, Ashley, Evan (New Orleans YAVA) and I got out of the city and headed southwest to Houma, Louisiana for Voice of the Wetlands, a music festival that promotes awareness of Louisiana's rapidly disappearing coastal wetlands. We arrived on Saturday afternoon to good food and even better music. For a wee bit more on the festival and the wetlands, you can read Ashley's account of the weekend on her blog.

Part of what really made my heart smile, though, is the welcome we received from church members that night and the next morning. Lauren's church for the year is First Presbyterian Church of Bayou Blue (her bosses for the year also happen to be the ministers there), and when we wanted to go to the festival, a church member so very kindly gave us a place to stay Saturday night. Sunday morning we headed to church, arriving to hugs instead of handshakes, honey's and baby's instead of our names, and fair warning that we wouldn't stay thin for long if we stayed around town. (Seriously though, about that last one. The monkey bread at coffee time? Pretty sure it fell directly from Heaven.) After church and fellowship time, we headed to the aforementioned ministers' house and proceeded to sit on their screen porch drinking tea and eating fruit picked from trees in the backyard. Have you ever had a satsuma? Or a persimmon? I had my very first of each on Sunday! Persimmons are very odd. But good. I think.

Even back towards the city, it takes all of half a second for someone to start telling you their whole life story, (and everyone wants to know yours). When Madame Blueberry (That's my car. Named for the Veggie Tales character.) had a dead battery, I learned all about David the AAA guy. About how he grew up here, and this one time he ate a whole bottle of baby aspirin ("ate it like candy!") and had to go to the hospital, but while he and his mama were waiting at the bus stop he fell off the bench and hit his head. All that, and a recommendation for a good sno ball place, just in the time it took to install a new battery.

Anyway. None of this might seem like a huge deal, but it is just so wonderful to be in a place where strangers embrace you as family the second you walk in the door. I'm not saying this is totally unique to coastal Louisiana, but it is certainly something very special (and something quite lovely when you're far away from home).

Love,

Allison

PS- Here's a picture of a bayou where we ate lunch on our way back to New Orleans from Houma. The scenery was extra welcomed, seeing as Lauren's car had just broken down and we'd been on the side of the road for a couple hours...but that's another story for another day.

And, just for fun, here's a little diddy from The Princess and the Frog:

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

The Dirt Between My Toes

Hey friends,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Love,

Allison


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

Oh hey, God.

Hey friends,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,
Allison

Something Bigger

Hey friends!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,

Allison

On Worrying and Failing

Hey again, friends!

As a lot of you know I've spent the last week at YAV orientation in Stony Point, New York...and it's been an interesting time (even besides the earthquake and the hurricane). I feel like I'm just now starting to process a lot of last year, and suddenly I've found myself thrown into an entirely different community surrounded by entirely different expectations. Orientation is largely full of potentially intimidating talks on globalization, culture shock and living in intentional community (including tales from YAVA facilitators), and it can be overwhelming even the second time around.

During our opening worship service last Monday, the YAVA (aka YAV alum) that was preaching asked a question. What if we are called to fail? That's not an easy question. But YAV years aren't perfect. And we all fail some time or another. Not always in huge catastrophic ways, but it happens. And what if those happenings are so essential that they become part of our calling? The YAVA continued by asking: what if we aren't supposed to be "successful" yet? Whatever successful means, what if we aren't supposed to get it right yet?

During one of our workshops on communication, we were asked to get in smaller groups and write down three things we worry about, each on a separate card. Things about our year, about life in general, about whatever.  After we wrote our worries down, we shared them with our groups. This was hands down the most difficult part of the week, for me. To write down things that truly, deeply worry me, and to say them out loud...that was hard. And by "hard" I mean my hand was physically trembling as I put the paper down on the ground. I've got to say that that surprised me a little. Sure I knew I had worries, but I s'pose I'm just pretty good at not thinking about them too much. As it turns out though, despite our apprehensions about the exercise, every single person in my little group had at least one worry in common, if not more.

It all got me thinking about how many of my worries are tied to last year, or at least affected by last year. I didn't have a whole lot of blatant outward struggles last year, but I think I'm starting to realize what a huge impact last year really did have on me. I think I'll continue to realize that over the course of this year and afterwards, especially as I head to our YAV re-entry retreat with last year's YAVs at the end of September (more about that when the time comes).

While it was truly a blessing to find solidarity with worrying friends, it's also been rather intimidating to realize just how unsure about this year I am. I'm sure that I'm supposed to be here. And I'm sure that I'll grow as close to some of these new friends as I have to those I met last year. But I'm not sure what working in a hospital chaplaincy department will be like, except that it will probably be one of the more challenging experiences of my life.

So probably I'll fail. Certainly I'll worry. It'll take a while to get to know New Orleans and to really get to know my fellow YAVs. It'll take a while to figure out how to work in a hospital. It'll take a while to figure out exactly what's next. YAV years (and life in general, I s'pose) aren't always full of rainbows and glitter and warm fuzzies. Sometimes it's hard, and I'm not sure I've talked a whole lot about that here.

All this isn't to say that I disliked my time at orientation, or that I'm not excited about this year. It was still a fantastic week full of new relationships and new ideas, and I still maintain that singing in a room full of YAVs is one of the most powerful forms of prayer I have ever experienced.

Even as we stumble through our lives worrying and failing, surely we'll pick up little tidbits of grace and assurance too. Learning from our failures hopefully we'll figure it out eventually. And maybe some of our worries will come true, but in those worries we are most certainly not alone, friends.

Love,
Allison

Here We Go Again...

Hey friends!

I made it to New Orleans today, for YAV round two! All my stuff is in my new YAV home, but I'm in a hotel room with Mom right now, before I take her to the airport tomorrow morning. Luckily I'm blessed with a good mommy that is able and willing to drive with me. 729 miles, 13 hours, and 20 police/trooper car sightings later, we're here in Louisiana! And by the wonders of a smartphone we even got to enjoy a Spice-Girls-inspired channel on Pandora for part of the drive. (And by "enjoy" I mean I thoroughly enjoyed and Mom so kindly tolerated.)

Tomorrow most of the other YAVs arrive, and the day after we start our New Orleans orientation. Then on Monday we jet off to Stony Point for orientation with everybody else.

There's a playground pretty much in my backyard again, but the house itself is quite the change! So far seven people will be living there...two floors, a porch, a balcony, and Mardi Gras beads still stuck in the tree out front.

More on New Orleans and orientations to come!
Love,
Allison