In the day and a half that has passed since Thursday night's shooting in Colorado, there's been a near constant stream of news and commentators. Words of grief, shock, anger, and likely a multitude of other emotions are still flowing out of mouths and keyboards from every which way. This is, for the most part, a good thing. People are processing. I process out loud too. Certainly not all of it makes it to this blog, but there are a handful of people in my life who will, when I need them too, graciously sit there while I ramble out loud. Still, often, tragic events like this one leave me genuinely speechless. I mean what do you even say when something like that happens? I doubt even the most eloquent collection of words from the most well-respected person could actually make it any better for those involved, but a sorority sister of mine shared the following quotation in a Facebook post yesterday...
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers, so many caring people in this world.” (Fred Rogers)
Just in case you didn't pick up on the name...that's the Mr. Rogers. I dare say he's one of my favorite Presbyterians, and these words hit it out of the park for me. Perhaps his words here resonate with me so much because they are the precise approach I have taken in many of the rough patches I've encountered over the past two years. There have, honestly, been times in my YAV years when I've felt utterly inundated with feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, uselessness, and any number of other 'ness-es. And during those times I was always able to find at least some comfort in the helpers around me. YAV-related and otherwise, these neighbors of mine, the helpers, continue to inspire me by making it a priority in their lives to share time and talent with the people around them. Whether that is through a year or two of structured volunteering or something completely different, it gives me great hope.
I wasn't at that movie theater in Aurora. And the only slight physical connection I have to this tragedy is that I know YAVs in Denver. So really I'm not sure if it's even my place to offer this commentary. But I hope that Mr. Rogers's little chunk of wisdom here will give you a small glimpse of hope, during this difficult time or the next, whatever it may be for you.
As I was sitting here at my (parents') kitchen table, I noticed a hummingbird flitting back and forth between hibiscus flowers. Even the littlest of birds reminds me that I just cannot give up on the beauty that is left in this world. So I hope that maybe you and I can continue to find even the smallest glimpses of beauty and hope in the helpers. In our brothers, our sisters, our neighbors.
Love, Allison
PS - For those of you that are interested, click here to read a post on PC(USA)'s website that responds to gun violence in the context of this latest act of violence.
As this blog is partly a chronicle of my time as a YAV, there is one more update I need to give you. Without sharing too many details with the entire internet world, circumstances are such that it was best for me to end my YAV year a month early and return to Davidson. So I drove home yesterday and will be here until I leave for Columbia in the fall. I personally am alright, and I'll explain more later maybe, or in an individual conversation if you'd like. While it was difficult to leave my community in New Orleans, I'm confident it was the right decision.
I've got plenty more to say about New Orleans and my time there, and I'm certainly not done rambling about other things either. I'll just be rambling from North Carolina now. I can't thank you all enough for your support throughout my adventures in Nashville and New Orleans (and before that), and I'm incredibly grateful for the support and love I've received in recent weeks too. I'll be talkin' to you soon, friends.
I don't think I've shared this yet, so if you're an audio-visual learner, here's a video look into the minds of New Orleans YAVs. For those of you who don't know, the dog in the video is Thomas, who belongs to Kathy, our site coordinator and video-editor extraordinaire. It's about ten minutes long, and offers insight from the YAVs I live with here in New Orleans. Enjoy!
Despite the fact that the weather here in New Orleans has undoubtedly signaled the arrival of summer, I'm still not used to this whole no-summer-break thing. (You mean...I just keep doing the same thing I've been doing? Weird.) Regardless of what lies ahead in my summer, the beginning of the season reminds me of the countless camps that are beginning their busy season as school year happenings come to an end. On a more specific note, if you haven't guessed, I'm thinking about the two summers I spent working at Camp Grier.
If you've talked to me for more than five minutes, you've probably heard about camp. You have my apologies for the word vomit that usually happens when the topic comes up, but I promise it's with the best of intentions! It's just that Camp Grier is a special, special place. A modest Presbyterian camp nestled in the mountains of western North Carolina, it is an undeniable place of refuge for campers and counselors alike.
I only went once as a camper, I think, and word on the street is (aka Mom told me) that I criiiied and cried when my parents dropped me off. However hazy my memories of that half-week may be, though, they still exist, and they are fond ones. I remember being mildly concerned that bug juice actually contained bug parts, but that seems to have turned out alright. I remember being just a little terrified of the rope bridge that went across the lake, but according to my memory, I made it across anyway. I remember my counselors saying they were engaged. Retrospectively, I realize that that especially was probably false information. But hey, what's a summer as a camp counselor without a few falsified engagements?!
What I can say truly changed my life, all jokes aside and as cheesy as it sounds, is those two summers that I spent as a counselor. Yes, I learned the oh-so-classified secrets of bug juice and homesick pills (and I'll never tell!). But I also got to help scared kids across the rope bridge, watch homesick kids transform every week into the most enthusiastic campers, and build relationships with my fellow counselors that I'm quite positive will be around for a very long time. Sure, I don't do the best job staying in touch with people. But if you put a bunch of us in a room together, I'd venture a guess that we'd be just fine. And no matter how long I am physically away from camp, every time I step foot on that property it will feel like I'm home. Even as I do a less than stellar job of regularly talking to my former camp coworkers, and even as those same people head to different camps (or...gasp...grown up jobs) those people and that place will always be a part of me.
In just over a week, I'll have the privilege of speaking to the summer staff at Camp Grier about the YAV program. While being a presenter at staff training makes me feel weird and grown up, I'm excited for a couple main reasons. First, I'm excited because I'll take any chance I can get to run my mouth about the YAV program, and any chance I can get to spend time in the mountains. But second, and more importantly, I am excited because the time I spent on staff at Camp Grier and the time I've spent as a YAV are without a doubt two parts of my life about which I am most passionate. There is a direct correlation between the time I spent at camp, my time as a YAV, and my decision to pursue some sort of ministry in the future. I'm not saying that every camp counselor wants or needs to go on to be a YAV and then head off to seminary. But my time on staff at Camp Grier was incredibly transformative, and as exhausted as I was ("It may be week six for you, but it's week one for the campers!"), I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. And I think once you're a camp counselor, it's something you can never really get out of your system.
So, connections to the YAV program aside, I'd encourage you to keep camp ministries of all sorts in your thoughts and prayers, as they begin their work for the summer. And consider supporting them in any way you can, whether that's financial support, sending your kid, or working or volunteering there yourself. To the camps out there: thank you. Thank you for everything you do and for the lives you change. Have a safe and happy summer!
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!
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.
