This week has been the busiest week I’ve had since I became an unemployed/freelance writer/pseudo tie-dye artist.
Logan and I are joining the church that we’ve been going to for the past year and I’m working on a piece about my time in Mission Year to submit to Seeds of Service, (http://seeds-of-service.blogspot.com). Needless to say, the week has been full of reflection.
Seeds of Service is collecting essays for a book about volunteer service in the United States. For my submission, I had to write about how my experience continues to shape my life. I spent 11 months in West Philly for Mission Year. It’s hard to summarize how my time in West Philly impacted me because the experience shaped me in such a profound way.
Getting out of my comfort zone, out of my bubble, taught me about compassion, love, grace, social justice and community. But if I had to summarize what I took away from Mission Year in one word, it would be grey.
Mission Year taught me how to “live in the grey.” Mission Year showed me how to dive into the tension that comes when we witness situations where there are no clearly identified heroes or villains. And where the lines between wrong and right are fine, and hard to recognize. I came to Philadelphia as 20-year-old evangelical who was confident she knew how the world should be.
But when confronted with the realities of how the world is, I realized there was lot more grey than my world view at the time had led me to believe. I quickly recognized that I didn’t have things all figured out and found joy and comfort in the reality that I didn’t have to.
Living in the grey, continues to shape me life. On personal level, living in the grey means pursing the truth as a journey, not a destination. On a professional level, living in the grey has made me a better journalist because I explore the different angles of a story to get beyond the surface. On a political level, living in the grey forces me to look at the issues not just from the perspective of a middle class WASP, but also from the prospective of the marginalized. And on prophetic level (what can I say I love alliteration. It’s the real reason I changed my name), living in the grey enables me to take joy in the subtle glimpses of the divine that I see on a daily basis- a hug from a toddler, a hand written letter of encouragement, or time to reflect during a long bike ride.
Living in the grey has freed from the need to be right and enabled me to be more relational. For that, my 11-months at Mission Year are invaluable.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Baby tye-dies
Since I seem to like making a mess far more than cleaning, tie dying has become one of my favorite hobbies. I love to make tie dyes for family and friends. And baby tie dyes are my favorite. They are just so little and cute. The bright swirls of color on an itty-bitty onesie make even the biggest cynic say, ahhh.
I get lots of compliments on the tie dyes I make so I thought why not share the love. My tye dyes will now be available in Lawrence at Doodlebugs, 816 Mass. I can also make custom orders. If you want to provide a hippster look for a special baby in your life let me know. :)
Monday, September 12, 2011
Living life live
I love fall. Love, love, love fall. I feel like I can’t say it enough.
The last two weekends have been filled with my favorite things- live music, college football and people I love.
Logan and I headed to Colorado for Labor Day weekend to see a couple of Phish shows. And last weekend we saw KU pull off what could be their second and last win of the season. (I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a third win, but I’m not holding my breath.)
There is something spectacular about live events. And fall is the perfect time for these outdoor festivities. When you are at a game or a show it’s more than just a series of plays or melodies. The events become a collection of shared moments that you experience in a specific time and a specific place with specific people.
As an extrovert, I thrive on the energy from crowds at concerts and football games. But more importantly these occasions remind me of the importance of living in the moment. I’m a firm believer that life is best lived live.
A few days ago I heard Garth Brook’s “The River” on the radio. (I realize Garth Brooks is quite the contrast from Phish, but what can I say, I have an eclectic taste.) I saw Garth Brooks in Kansas City in 2007 and when he sang “The River” I got goose bumps. That song is one of my most memorable concert moments.
In 2007, Iayoffs were looming and I was applying for jobs. I wondered if I would stay in the Kansas City area or even in the journalism field. As I searched for purpose in my career and life, Garth Brook’s words struck me to the core.
“You know a dream is like a river
Ever changing as it flows
And the dreamer's just the vessel
That must follow where it goes
Trying to learn from what's behind you
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores.”
These days I’m doing my best to stay between the shores. The ever-looming layoff has came to pass and even though I’m slightly more stable (having a husband and a house) I still don’t know what my future holds. I know that I will continue to be a dreamer. But for now my focus is less on what I’m going to do, and more on simply being in the moment. This weekend I’ll be enjoying the moment at Winfield and encourage any blue grass fans come along.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Begging for crumbs
I have had a rough week. One of those weeks where I try to be positive, perhaps even overly positive, and then by the end of the day I end up crashing.
So, tonight my tearfest happened on the staircase. I was heading up stairs and looked down at Gunther laying at the bottom of the stairs so peacefully and I just burst into tears. I have the kind of mind that often floods with thoughts. A beautiful mind if you will (although not quite schizophrenic beautiful like the movie A Beautiful Mind). At any given moment it’s hard to tell what thought might have caused an emotional reaction when there are so many thoughts running through my head.
I decided to sit down on the steps to take a moment. As I continued to look at Gunther, my eyeless diabetic dog who literally blindly follows me around the house all day, I thought of Jesus’ parable of the Canaanite Woman. (http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2015:21-28&version=NIV)
I’m no theologian, and fully appreciate those who are. To me, as a lay person, I view the Bible as beautiful collection of stories whose meanings and depth continue to change as I grow and evolve. I have taken many different perspectives on this passage throughout my life.
To summarize the scripture for those of you who don’t want to read through the link provided above, a gentile woman begs Jesus to save her from her affliction. Jesus refuses and refuses eventually saying, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
Jesus refers to her as a dog because she is not an Israeli.
The woman replies, “Yes it is, Lord. Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
Upon hearing her witty response Jesus says, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.”
The story goes on to say that Jesus healed the woman of her affliction. Odd story, with a happy ending.
When I read this story as a teenager I thought it made Jesus seem like a huge prick. I mean seriously he called the woman a dog. He made her “beg.” Really Jesus? This doesn’t sound like the peaceful sheep herding Jesus we see in pictures. And it’s certainly not the “8 pound, 6 ounce, new born infant Jesus.”
I just don’t like to think of Jesus degrading anyone, so this parable always bothered me. I mean he called her a dog.
In my early 20s I found a deepened spiritual intimacy and my view of the passage changed. Instead of looking at Jesus’ comments to the woman, I started to focus on her comments to him. I started to focus on her faith and it became beautiful.
Here is this woman full of affliction, desperate for help, looking to a God who she sees as magnificent enough to view his crumbs and miraculous. In my early 20s I thought to myself, yes that’s the kind God I serve. One whose crumbs are enough to sustain me.
My mid- to-late 20s brought on some more challenging times and to be honest I haven’t thought about that passage in quite awhile.
Tonight as I sat crying on my steps, I felt overwhelmed. Here I am looking for work, trying to overcome the learning curve of married life, and desperately missing the steady flow of stories I used to write.
I stopped crying long enough to look at Gunther, my terror of a Jack Russell. Everyone knows Gunther and I have had our ups and downs. I came into his life about three years ago as Logan’s new girl friend and have now transitioned into his “mommy.”
As much as I view Gunther as a tremendous pain in the ass, I really love that little pup. I love him unconditionally with little expectations. (We expect him to go to the bathroom outside and limit his biting to just Logan and me.)
As I a looked at Gunther and thought of the parable of the Canaanite woman, I couldn’t help but wonder if God views me in the same way that I view Gunther- as a pain in the ass who She loves unconditionally regardless of my accomplishments. I’d like to think She does.
And when I feel down about my trials, those that are trivial and those that are not, it’s good to look around and identify the crumbs that God has left for me. It’s good count my blessings and know that regardless of my circumstances, life is good.
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