Friday, December 17, 2010
well behaved women seldom make history
http://www.glamour.com/women-of-the-year/2010/dr-hawa-abdi-and-her-daughters
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
As the sun shines magnificently through the paper snowflakes haphazardly taped to the glass blocks of Isaiah House's westernmost wall I can't help but be overwhelmed by this amazing sanctuary for those experiencing mental illnesses.
As Ms. Shirley walks through the door, smelling of urine, wearing sweatpants tucked into her baseball socks, three hats, and a couple of hooded sweatshirts, the only disturbing thing about her appearance to the other Isaiah House participants is her swollen and bloodied finger. Ms. Debra calls up to my office, not to inform me that Ms. Shirley needs to bathe, but that she needs a doctor.
Isaiah House has introduced me to the most beautiful people. People who are often overlooked and even considered expendable. People who wave and call out my name as I bike down Georgia Avenue, or stop and chat with me in line at the MLK library, or come sit in my office and keep me up to date on current events.
The Isaiah House community has taught me that it's not scary to share a meal with someone who mutters and mumbles under their breath to no one in particular; it's actually a moment spent with Christ. They have taught me that the only thing disgusting about a man sitting in the bathroom, too drunk to pull himself off the floor, wearing clothes full of holes, is that he doesn't have clothes WITHOUT holes, or a place to go once the sun starts setting, and that he is probably drinking so that he won't be aware of that.
My supervisors, Jamie and Joy, have pushed me to do everything that I can for anyone who walks through the glass doors of this place. Meeting someone where they’re at and serving them to the best of our ability is what we are here to do. Jamie told me once that it doesn't matter whether something that someone says is real or not. What matters is that whatever they say is THEIR reality. What matters is that what they feel is real.
As Ms. Shirley walks through the door, smelling of urine, wearing sweatpants tucked into her baseball socks, three hats, and a couple of hooded sweatshirts, the only disturbing thing about her appearance to the other Isaiah House participants is her swollen and bloodied finger. Ms. Debra calls up to my office, not to inform me that Ms. Shirley needs to bathe, but that she needs a doctor.
Isaiah House has introduced me to the most beautiful people. People who are often overlooked and even considered expendable. People who wave and call out my name as I bike down Georgia Avenue, or stop and chat with me in line at the MLK library, or come sit in my office and keep me up to date on current events.
The Isaiah House community has taught me that it's not scary to share a meal with someone who mutters and mumbles under their breath to no one in particular; it's actually a moment spent with Christ. They have taught me that the only thing disgusting about a man sitting in the bathroom, too drunk to pull himself off the floor, wearing clothes full of holes, is that he doesn't have clothes WITHOUT holes, or a place to go once the sun starts setting, and that he is probably drinking so that he won't be aware of that.
My supervisors, Jamie and Joy, have pushed me to do everything that I can for anyone who walks through the glass doors of this place. Meeting someone where they’re at and serving them to the best of our ability is what we are here to do. Jamie told me once that it doesn't matter whether something that someone says is real or not. What matters is that whatever they say is THEIR reality. What matters is that what they feel is real.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Low Road by Marge Piercy
What can they do
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can t walk, can’t remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover. They can do anything
you can’t blame them
from doing. How can you stop
them? Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.
But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.
Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organisation. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.
It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can t walk, can’t remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover. They can do anything
you can’t blame them
from doing. How can you stop
them? Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.
But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.
Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organisation. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.
It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I was prepared to change the world.
I know it sounds egotistical, but during the summer of 2009, right after I had graduated from school, I was ready to change the world. And I knew that that’s what I would be doing.
I was prepared to change the world.
I knew that I was going to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and comfort the sad. I had this amazing privilege that would allow me to single-handedly fix everyone’s problems.
I was prepared to change the world.
But…
I was completely prepared for the wrong thing.
I didn’t expect my heart to be broken time and time again, by the structural injustices that perpetuate marginalization, prejudice, racism, and stigmatization.
I was supposed to be the one doing the fixing, not the one being broken.
I wasn’t supposed to feel helpless and uncomfortable and vulnerable.
Remember, I was going to change the world!
I was supposed to be around for a year,
mend some wounds,
bring some joy,
have a good time,
and then move on.
I was supposed to be the one teaching, not the one learning.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Debra, James, Lorraine, Wilbert, David, Mary, Maria, Dynise, Pam, Leola, Vera, Stephen, and countless others.
I wasn’t supposed to sign on for a second year.
Or maybe I WAS supposed to feel broken, and angry, and helpless. Maybe I WAS supposed to learn, and NOT teach. Maybe I was supposed to fall in love.
Because nothing else happened the way it was supposed to.
I know it sounds egotistical, but during the summer of 2009, right after I had graduated from school, I was ready to change the world. And I knew that that’s what I would be doing.
I was prepared to change the world.
I knew that I was going to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and comfort the sad. I had this amazing privilege that would allow me to single-handedly fix everyone’s problems.
I was prepared to change the world.
But…
I was completely prepared for the wrong thing.
I didn’t expect my heart to be broken time and time again, by the structural injustices that perpetuate marginalization, prejudice, racism, and stigmatization.
I was supposed to be the one doing the fixing, not the one being broken.
I wasn’t supposed to feel helpless and uncomfortable and vulnerable.
Remember, I was going to change the world!
I was supposed to be around for a year,
mend some wounds,
bring some joy,
have a good time,
and then move on.
I was supposed to be the one teaching, not the one learning.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Debra, James, Lorraine, Wilbert, David, Mary, Maria, Dynise, Pam, Leola, Vera, Stephen, and countless others.
I wasn’t supposed to sign on for a second year.
Or maybe I WAS supposed to feel broken, and angry, and helpless. Maybe I WAS supposed to learn, and NOT teach. Maybe I was supposed to fall in love.
Because nothing else happened the way it was supposed to.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
sometimes you just need a reminder
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
It's been a while...
...and I'm not sure how many people even read this or care to hear an update, but I'm still around, and just haven't had any profound thoughts recently.
But I will post some pictures of my new community soon.
But I will post some pictures of my new community soon.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I carry you with me. I carry you in my heart.
I’ve been reflecting a lot over the last week on this last year of my life. It’s amazing how much can happen in just one year. How many funny, wonderful, sad, spiritual, ridiculous memories can be formed when you throw some random 20 something year olds into a house together and make them hang out.
I was remembering the end of August, when the six of us sat around the living room, for what seemed like hours, discussing whether or not we should get internet in the house.
And in September when we had a fancy dinner with the Dupont Jesuits complete with salmon, pork chops, beer, wine, and goat cheese.
And in October when we threw a ridiculous 90’s themed party, danced to Backstreet Boys, and dressed in plaid. Then we hosted a potluck which ended up stocking our liquor cabinet (metal shelf by back door) for months.
And in November when Lucas’ dad came to visit and brought baby pictures of Lucas and cooked us Nepalese food. The best part was that Tricia called Lucas’ dad, Shree, requesting that he bring pictures, to which Shree responded, “Yes, I have some from the day we picked Lucas up at the orphanage that I will bring. Wait. You DO know that Lucas is adopted, right?”
Then there was December, when we traipsed to the 9:30 club for Bread for the City’s annual fundraiser, dressed inappropriately for 20 degree weather, partook in an open bar, and saw Sugar Ray in concert.
In January, we celebrated Kierstin’s birthday with a scavenger hunt around town, had a death row exonoree over for dinner, and took the Meyer’s-Briggs Personality Inventory. The death row exonoree and the personality test were separate events and not a part of Kierstin’s birthday celebration.
And in February, when my dad visited and grilled fajitas and made margaritas for us during the record breaking snow storm. If a JV community can survive being holed up in their house for a week enduring cabin fever and still live to tell about it, they can survive anything. As a side note, I was reminded of the time, during phase II of the record breaking snow storm, of walking to Chinatown with Kristina to watch Nicholas Spark’s “Dear John,” then walking to Safeway and a shady liquor store, to ensure that 130 Bryant had enough alcohol to help us make it until we got a break from any kind of precipitation.
Then there was March, when we drove up to Tricia’s home town of Seaside, NJ for their annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, only for it to get rained out and have to spend the whole weekend trapped inside her house playing Pictionary telephone, eating cornbeef, and drinking Bailey’s.
Then there was April, when we watched Marc and Lexi, two FJV’s, wed, then bartended at their reception.
And then in May, when Tricia and I both celebrated our birthdays!
And in June, when everyone scattered all around the country for different trips, but we still managed to have one last big meal together before Tricia started the next phase of her life and left for medical school.
Now, it’s July, and I can’t figure out where all this time I thought we had together went. In 3 short weeks, each of us will be moving on to the next phase, in Chicago, and New York, and Boston, and Jersey, and me staying in DC, and it will be painful to say goodbye, but I have these wonderful memories to keep with me forever.
I was remembering the end of August, when the six of us sat around the living room, for what seemed like hours, discussing whether or not we should get internet in the house.
And in September when we had a fancy dinner with the Dupont Jesuits complete with salmon, pork chops, beer, wine, and goat cheese.
And in October when we threw a ridiculous 90’s themed party, danced to Backstreet Boys, and dressed in plaid. Then we hosted a potluck which ended up stocking our liquor cabinet (metal shelf by back door) for months.
And in November when Lucas’ dad came to visit and brought baby pictures of Lucas and cooked us Nepalese food. The best part was that Tricia called Lucas’ dad, Shree, requesting that he bring pictures, to which Shree responded, “Yes, I have some from the day we picked Lucas up at the orphanage that I will bring. Wait. You DO know that Lucas is adopted, right?”
Then there was December, when we traipsed to the 9:30 club for Bread for the City’s annual fundraiser, dressed inappropriately for 20 degree weather, partook in an open bar, and saw Sugar Ray in concert.
In January, we celebrated Kierstin’s birthday with a scavenger hunt around town, had a death row exonoree over for dinner, and took the Meyer’s-Briggs Personality Inventory. The death row exonoree and the personality test were separate events and not a part of Kierstin’s birthday celebration.
And in February, when my dad visited and grilled fajitas and made margaritas for us during the record breaking snow storm. If a JV community can survive being holed up in their house for a week enduring cabin fever and still live to tell about it, they can survive anything. As a side note, I was reminded of the time, during phase II of the record breaking snow storm, of walking to Chinatown with Kristina to watch Nicholas Spark’s “Dear John,” then walking to Safeway and a shady liquor store, to ensure that 130 Bryant had enough alcohol to help us make it until we got a break from any kind of precipitation.
Then there was March, when we drove up to Tricia’s home town of Seaside, NJ for their annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, only for it to get rained out and have to spend the whole weekend trapped inside her house playing Pictionary telephone, eating cornbeef, and drinking Bailey’s.
Then there was April, when we watched Marc and Lexi, two FJV’s, wed, then bartended at their reception.
And then in May, when Tricia and I both celebrated our birthdays!
And in June, when everyone scattered all around the country for different trips, but we still managed to have one last big meal together before Tricia started the next phase of her life and left for medical school.
Now, it’s July, and I can’t figure out where all this time I thought we had together went. In 3 short weeks, each of us will be moving on to the next phase, in Chicago, and New York, and Boston, and Jersey, and me staying in DC, and it will be painful to say goodbye, but I have these wonderful memories to keep with me forever.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
my baby brother
Gone are the days when I was taller and smarter and better informed than Jonah.
Gone are the days when I towered over him, and yelled at him to get out of my room.
These days are gone because Jonah now towers over me.
And astounds me with his perception of people.
And amazes me with his basketball skills.
When I moved away for college he was 10 (now he's 15).
When I decided, just this last week, to stop treating him like he was 10, spending time with him became fun.
When I decided to stop treating him like a 10 year old, we stayed up late watching Remember the Titans, we laughed at inappropriate YouTube videos, we made fun of ugly Lakers players, and he told me about the challenges he experienced as a freshman in high school.
As it turns out, Jonah is in fact, funny, and kind, and thoughtful, and way smarter and more talented than I will ever be.
After 15 years, I'm finally able to recognize what an incredible human my baby brother is. I just never took the time to pay attention.
Jonah, you amaze me.
Gone are the days when I towered over him, and yelled at him to get out of my room.
These days are gone because Jonah now towers over me.
And astounds me with his perception of people.
And amazes me with his basketball skills.
When I moved away for college he was 10 (now he's 15).
When I decided, just this last week, to stop treating him like he was 10, spending time with him became fun.
When I decided to stop treating him like a 10 year old, we stayed up late watching Remember the Titans, we laughed at inappropriate YouTube videos, we made fun of ugly Lakers players, and he told me about the challenges he experienced as a freshman in high school.
As it turns out, Jonah is in fact, funny, and kind, and thoughtful, and way smarter and more talented than I will ever be.
After 15 years, I'm finally able to recognize what an incredible human my baby brother is. I just never took the time to pay attention.
Jonah, you amaze me.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
All good things must come to an end.
I'm feeling overwhelmed by sadness.
I'm mourning the end of my first year of JVC. I'm mourning Tricia's move out of 130 Bryant St. I'm mourning the too fast passing of time. I'm mourning change. I'm mourning being left behind by Kristina, Kierstin, Lucas, and Jordan in DC at the end of July.
My greatest struggle is remaining present to the present. I always seem to get caught up in what could be rather than what is. And then before I know it the future is happening and I didn't spend enough time focusing on the present.
How many hours, minutes, seconds, did I waste thinking about and planning for what comes next (and let's be honest, I was just going to make that decision at the last minute anyway) when I should have been absorbing everything that is going on RIGHT NOW?
So now, it's been 1 year and 1 month since I graduated from college, 1 year since I was teaching swimming lessons, 11 months since I moved to the east coast, and everything is a big blur (and not just because I recently found out I have astigmatism).
The last year has been a wonderful blur of activity, experience, love, tears, joy, struggles, challenges, and friendship.
Even though it's all a little blurry, I know it was wonderful, because if it hadn't been, I wouldn't feel so sad that it's coming to an end right now.
I'm mourning the end of my first year of JVC. I'm mourning Tricia's move out of 130 Bryant St. I'm mourning the too fast passing of time. I'm mourning change. I'm mourning being left behind by Kristina, Kierstin, Lucas, and Jordan in DC at the end of July.
My greatest struggle is remaining present to the present. I always seem to get caught up in what could be rather than what is. And then before I know it the future is happening and I didn't spend enough time focusing on the present.
How many hours, minutes, seconds, did I waste thinking about and planning for what comes next (and let's be honest, I was just going to make that decision at the last minute anyway) when I should have been absorbing everything that is going on RIGHT NOW?
So now, it's been 1 year and 1 month since I graduated from college, 1 year since I was teaching swimming lessons, 11 months since I moved to the east coast, and everything is a big blur (and not just because I recently found out I have astigmatism).
The last year has been a wonderful blur of activity, experience, love, tears, joy, struggles, challenges, and friendship.
Even though it's all a little blurry, I know it was wonderful, because if it hadn't been, I wouldn't feel so sad that it's coming to an end right now.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
23rd Birthday! In the top 5 birthday celebrations of all time :)
Birthday Paper Crafting by Kiki
Community plus Pat and Alicia
Birthday Canoli Cream with Berries by Tricia
Drinking our "emilys"
Birthday Flowers from Community!
Community plus Pat and Alicia
Birthday Canoli Cream with Berries by Tricia
Drinking our "emilys"
Birthday Flowers from Community!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
To Whom it May Concern,
I used to be scared of you.
You didn't exist in my world a few short months ago.
While you sat on your corner, I thought about you from far away.
I thought about your world, from the comfort of my world.
I didn't know you, but I thought about you, and I was scared of you.
You sat on your corner, and I walked past you, and we looked at eachother.
We looked at eachother, and I was scared.
One day, I smiled at you.
One day, you shook my hand.
One day, you watered the garden for me when I forgot.
Then, one day, you held your umbrella over me in the pouring rain, while I waited to cross the street.
We look at eachother, and we smile, and we know eachother, and we come from the same world.
You are me, and I am you.
Love, Me
I used to be scared of you.
You didn't exist in my world a few short months ago.
While you sat on your corner, I thought about you from far away.
I thought about your world, from the comfort of my world.
I didn't know you, but I thought about you, and I was scared of you.
You sat on your corner, and I walked past you, and we looked at eachother.
We looked at eachother, and I was scared.
One day, I smiled at you.
One day, you shook my hand.
One day, you watered the garden for me when I forgot.
Then, one day, you held your umbrella over me in the pouring rain, while I waited to cross the street.
We look at eachother, and we smile, and we know eachother, and we come from the same world.
You are me, and I am you.
Love, Me
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
broccoli, bryant street, and miracles
Tricia is the most amazing person when it comes to starting projects in our community. Whether it's a rummage sale for Haiti or composting or our beautiful garden. She also happens to be the most amazing person when it comes to conning me into supporting her projects.
Particularly the garden.
With it's broccoli, rosemary, raspberries, perennials, and compost box, our garden has become the most beautiful place in the world.
I never knew that coming home from work and noticing how much taller the broccoli plants are would bring so much joy to my heart.
I also didn't know that our garden would be the means to foster relationships with our neighbors on Bryant Street (a random assortment of life-long DC residents, world bank employees, young families with small children, Capitol interns, drug dealers, former non-profit directors, and Howard University students.)
I didn't know that Paul, our next door neighbor who is sometimes outside at 7:45 in the morning drinking a 40, would diligently water our garden because we don't have a hose. (Part of the reason I became a Redskins fan is so that I always have something to talk to Paul about. Yesterday, he called me "shorty." I think that means we've bonded.)
I didn't know that Frankie Dye (self-described, "Dye, as in, to impregnate with color")would wander out of his house while Tricia and I were planting to come over and weed with us.
I didn't know that Rick and Paul (who each live on opposite sides of our house, and also happen to play this game where they call for eachother whenever pretty girls walk down the street)would feel compelled to sit on our front steps and give Tricia and I a lesson in theology.
I didn't know that Frankie was paying attention to what I was saying while he was weeding and I mentioned that I worked at SOME.
I definitely didn't know that one afternoon he would come knocking on my front door and ask me to come over to his house to talk to a woman who's been sleeping on his couch about getting connected to the services at SOME.
I often feel incompetent at work. Underqualified and inexperienced. This woman, who I was supposed to be helping, actually ended up helping me.
After listening to this woman's story and giving her my contact information at work, I realized that I AM underqualified and inexperienced, but I'm NOT incompetent.
She talked and I listened.
She cried.
Then, she gave me a hug.
I didn't really help her at all.
She helped me recognize my own competence.
All because of Tricia's projects, and our beautiful, life-giving graden.
Particularly the garden.
With it's broccoli, rosemary, raspberries, perennials, and compost box, our garden has become the most beautiful place in the world.
I never knew that coming home from work and noticing how much taller the broccoli plants are would bring so much joy to my heart.
I also didn't know that our garden would be the means to foster relationships with our neighbors on Bryant Street (a random assortment of life-long DC residents, world bank employees, young families with small children, Capitol interns, drug dealers, former non-profit directors, and Howard University students.)
I didn't know that Paul, our next door neighbor who is sometimes outside at 7:45 in the morning drinking a 40, would diligently water our garden because we don't have a hose. (Part of the reason I became a Redskins fan is so that I always have something to talk to Paul about. Yesterday, he called me "shorty." I think that means we've bonded.)
I didn't know that Frankie Dye (self-described, "Dye, as in, to impregnate with color")would wander out of his house while Tricia and I were planting to come over and weed with us.
I didn't know that Rick and Paul (who each live on opposite sides of our house, and also happen to play this game where they call for eachother whenever pretty girls walk down the street)would feel compelled to sit on our front steps and give Tricia and I a lesson in theology.
I didn't know that Frankie was paying attention to what I was saying while he was weeding and I mentioned that I worked at SOME.
I definitely didn't know that one afternoon he would come knocking on my front door and ask me to come over to his house to talk to a woman who's been sleeping on his couch about getting connected to the services at SOME.
I often feel incompetent at work. Underqualified and inexperienced. This woman, who I was supposed to be helping, actually ended up helping me.
After listening to this woman's story and giving her my contact information at work, I realized that I AM underqualified and inexperienced, but I'm NOT incompetent.
She talked and I listened.
She cried.
Then, she gave me a hug.
I didn't really help her at all.
She helped me recognize my own competence.
All because of Tricia's projects, and our beautiful, life-giving graden.
Monday, April 19, 2010
The joys of community, and why I'm doing it all over again
1. Because there are so many other girls to share clothes with.
2. Because there is always something silly to get conned into doing, like composting or running barefoot through the city or going to a karaoke bar.
3. Because there is a big table in the dining room that six people who were strangers eight months ago, now sit around sharing stories, tears, laughs, and pieces of themselves.
4. Because Jordan will catch up with me on his bike on the way home from work and stop to walk with me.
5. Because Lucas invites me along to partake in his busy social life since I don't have one.
6. Because Kierstin and I always have similar stories to share about work.
7. Because Tricia pokes her head into mine and Kristina's room before she goes to bed asking what we are doing since she gets lonely in her penthouse.
8. Because Kristina and I share a room, and sometimes we laugh, and sometimes we cry, and sometimes we cuddle, and sometimes we dance.
9. Because dinner tastes better when it's made from scratch and with love.
10. Because books are better when you live with other people who like to read and you can swap them and talk about how much you love them.
11. Because life and love are more fulfilling experiences when you get to share them with other people.
2. Because there is always something silly to get conned into doing, like composting or running barefoot through the city or going to a karaoke bar.
3. Because there is a big table in the dining room that six people who were strangers eight months ago, now sit around sharing stories, tears, laughs, and pieces of themselves.
4. Because Jordan will catch up with me on his bike on the way home from work and stop to walk with me.
5. Because Lucas invites me along to partake in his busy social life since I don't have one.
6. Because Kierstin and I always have similar stories to share about work.
7. Because Tricia pokes her head into mine and Kristina's room before she goes to bed asking what we are doing since she gets lonely in her penthouse.
8. Because Kristina and I share a room, and sometimes we laugh, and sometimes we cry, and sometimes we cuddle, and sometimes we dance.
9. Because dinner tastes better when it's made from scratch and with love.
10. Because books are better when you live with other people who like to read and you can swap them and talk about how much you love them.
11. Because life and love are more fulfilling experiences when you get to share them with other people.
Monday, April 12, 2010
beverage wisdom
It's funny how when you least expect it you get answers to questions you didn't even know you were asking.
The inside label of my "Honest Ade Pomegranate Blue" flavored water this morning read as follows:
"We must be willing to let go of the life we've planned to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster
The inside label of my "Honest Ade Pomegranate Blue" flavored water this morning read as follows:
"We must be willing to let go of the life we've planned to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster
"My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together." Bishop Desmond Tutu
There was a baptism Sunday morning at St. Al's. Not just any baptism. The most beautiful baptism I have ever seen.
It wasn't just beautiful because this baby was adopted.
It wasn't just beautiful because everyone could see how much the parents loved eachother and their son.
It wasn't just beautiful because the mother was Muslim and fully in support of a Catholic baptism, or because her two Muslim sisters and mother were also present.
It was beautiful because the visiting Franciscan priest, welcomed these four Muslim women, thanked them for participating in the ceremony, and spoke about how Islam was an influential part of the life of St. Frances of Assisi, the founder of the Franciscan Order of priests.
And, it was beautiful because he asked the parents to raise their son with a Christian and an Islam influence in order to help repair the brokenness that exists between these two faith traditions.
It wasn't just beautiful because this baby was adopted.
It wasn't just beautiful because everyone could see how much the parents loved eachother and their son.
It wasn't just beautiful because the mother was Muslim and fully in support of a Catholic baptism, or because her two Muslim sisters and mother were also present.
It was beautiful because the visiting Franciscan priest, welcomed these four Muslim women, thanked them for participating in the ceremony, and spoke about how Islam was an influential part of the life of St. Frances of Assisi, the founder of the Franciscan Order of priests.
And, it was beautiful because he asked the parents to raise their son with a Christian and an Islam influence in order to help repair the brokenness that exists between these two faith traditions.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Peggy Noonan of the Wallstreet Journal on the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church
There are three great groups of victims in this story. The first and most obvious, the children who were abused, who trusted, were preyed upon and bear the burden through life. The second group is the good priests and good nuns, the great leaders of the church in the day to day, who save the poor, teach the immigrant, and, literally, save lives. They have been stigmatized when they deserve to be lionized. And the third group is the Catholics in the pews—the heroic Catholics of America and now Europe, the hardy souls who in spite of what has been done to their church are still there, still making parish life possible, who hold high the flag, their faith unshaken. No one thanks those Catholics, sees their heroism, respects their patience and fidelity. The world thinks they're stupid. They are not stupid, and with their prayers they keep the world going, and the old church too.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
After 8 months, I finally understand
Today it hit me.
I finally understand.
Not that I didn't understand before.
But, I get it now.
I finally, truly, get it.
I was reading while I walked to Easter mass this morning. (By the way, it could not have been a more beautiful Easter Sunday)
And as I was walking and reading I heard someone call out to me, "Hey young lady! What ARE you doing??"
When I looked up I saw two clients waving at me from down the block.
These two particular clients came to SOME several months ago for addictions treatment, dissheveled and emaciated. They have both gone through the 90-day treatment program in West Virginia and are currently in the intensive outpatient program and attending relapse prevention groups.
As I stood there talking to them, I saw that their cheeks were no longer sunken, their smiles stretched from ear to ear, and their eyes were lit up.
This morning, I discovered what the miracle of Easter, and the miracle of the opportunity to serve as a Jesuit Volunteer really is. It's about witnessing the resurrection of the body, firsthand, among the people of God.
The other miracle is that I just happened to be wearing waterproof mascara and sunglasses.
I finally understand.
Not that I didn't understand before.
But, I get it now.
I finally, truly, get it.
I was reading while I walked to Easter mass this morning. (By the way, it could not have been a more beautiful Easter Sunday)
And as I was walking and reading I heard someone call out to me, "Hey young lady! What ARE you doing??"
When I looked up I saw two clients waving at me from down the block.
These two particular clients came to SOME several months ago for addictions treatment, dissheveled and emaciated. They have both gone through the 90-day treatment program in West Virginia and are currently in the intensive outpatient program and attending relapse prevention groups.
As I stood there talking to them, I saw that their cheeks were no longer sunken, their smiles stretched from ear to ear, and their eyes were lit up.
This morning, I discovered what the miracle of Easter, and the miracle of the opportunity to serve as a Jesuit Volunteer really is. It's about witnessing the resurrection of the body, firsthand, among the people of God.
The other miracle is that I just happened to be wearing waterproof mascara and sunglasses.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Spring comes after winter for the right reason.
I've never experienced spring the way I have this year.
Winter exists so that spring can be experienced fully.
I look forward to walking to work in the morning, with my coffee in hand.
Everyone is smiling because the snow has melted.
With my chacos on, the beginnings of a tan on my shoulders, the flowers blossoming a little more each day, and Easter right around the corner, my soul is being resurrected.
P.S. Cherry blossoms are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Winter exists so that spring can be experienced fully.
I look forward to walking to work in the morning, with my coffee in hand.
Everyone is smiling because the snow has melted.
With my chacos on, the beginnings of a tan on my shoulders, the flowers blossoming a little more each day, and Easter right around the corner, my soul is being resurrected.
P.S. Cherry blossoms are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
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