Out of control

I woke up this morning thinking I was in control. I had a plan, a schedule, I knew what I had to do and when. I was going to fit it all in somehow- my internship, my papers, tutoring, a presentation, and class.

I also woke up unable to breathe through my nose, and with a sore throat. But this was no matter- I was planning to continue my day as planned. I didn't have the luxury of being sick today.

I had everything that I needed for the day, I was leaving on time, and it was all going so smoothly!

Until I noticed frost on the back windshield of my car...which was strange since none of the other cars had any frost. It was especially strange when the frost began cracking and pieces of my window began to fall apart. On closer examination, the "frost" was actually my window shattered in a thousand little pieces. And a tiny hole in the corner led me to believe that someone had shot a bb gun, or something, at my back window.

Suddenly, my carefully planned day was out of control. I had no way to get where I needed to go (which happened to be Lancaster) and ended up being dependent on others to get around.

Isn't it amazing, and unfortunate, how much I rely on my car? And how much I rely on being able to plan and control the various aspects of my life?

I know the truth is that, ultimately, my life is not in my control. I can plan out each moment of each day of the next 10 years. But it will not turn out the way I plan. There are many other factors- other people's choices, good and bad. And you know, that little thing called God's will. The little thing that I will probably spend my life trying to figure out and never scratch the surface.

So why not just surrender? Why not trust?

I ended up spending the day doing needed work, taking it easy and trying to get better, and dealing with the car stuff. Not all I'd hoped for, but maybe where I needed to be.

Role Overload and Joy

I'll be honest. Lately, I have had trouble living up to my blog's name- you know the whole "rise and meet the day" thing. My mornings have been more like "hit the snooze alarm several times and grumble about how many things I have to do this day."

And I haven't had the best attitude about doing a lot of the things I have to do. Frankly, I am overwhelmed. As we learned in my Clinical class, I probably have "role overload." Having more than 5 roles at a given time is a recipe for disaster, so says the research. And I am a graduate student at Temple U., I am the advocacy coordinator of the Social Work Alliance, the Communication coordinator for Beyond Our Borders, an intern/therapist at Youth Advocate Programs, in charge of the el. school tutoring program for The Joshua Group, a volunteer, a fiance, a sister, a daughter, a friend...you get the picture. I am overloaded, and yes, with many roles that I have chosen, and some that have just occurred by virtue of being.

I am feeling all of this, and I have noticed that I have a bad attitude more regularly than I would like to admit. When people ask me how I am doing, they have recently gotten a groan in return and some reference to my exhaustion. This is not good. Where is the joy that I am supposed to have?

I was pondering all this as I stirred my iced coffee today (Counterculture from Midtown Scholar, of course). As I added the cream, I remembered how a dear friend of mine (Malinda) loves to watch the cream swirl and dissolve into coffee. And it reminded me of simple joys in life that I need to pay more attention to. So, this is what I am going to work on- focusing on the simple joys. Things like:

-one of the students I tutor who is from China and loves to joke around and try to make us all laugh

-another student- a 1st grader who gave me a picture that she made in school

-the screams and laughter of children who are playing "duck, duck goose" and are all hyped up in anticipation of trick-or-treat night

-a coffee break with the art therapist at my internship, who I enjoy talking with

-another great conversation with a co-worker about being a passionate vegetarian

-a 5 minute phone conversation with Emily that sparked laughter

- the silliness and sweetness of Josh when I greeted him after class

-my 17-year old brother calling me and offering to pray for peace in Harrisburg during our phone conversation

-the gorgeous, warm, blue sky day and the multi-colored leaves

-the vibrant Allison Hill community that rallied to provide safety and a fun trick-or-treat night for the kids

This is something I need to practice daily- a gratitude towards God, the people in my life, and the simple joys that can be found if I just pay attention a bit.

Thoughts...

Two interesting articles/blogs that I happened upon tonight. Parts I agree with, parts I'm not so sure. Just some things to ponder on the topic of homosexuality and Christianity:

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/music/interviews/2010/jenniferknapp-apr10.html?start=1

http://blog.sojo.net/2010/09/23/god-loves-gays-and-so-should-we/

The ups and downs of city life

(This is a post I began about a month ago, and never posted. So here you go!)

In the past few weeks, my relationship with Harrisburg has been a bit of a roller coaster ride. Someone threw a rock at my window and broke it last week...and yesterday my bike was stolen. There were also some incidences of loud, disturbing middle-of-the-night craziness that can be a regular occurrence at times. These are the times when I wonder, "Why am I here, again?" Sometimes I forget the original reasons for wanting to live intentionally in the city.

But the saving graces outweigh the negatives:

A small group of friends went swimming in the river at a spot they frequent where I had never been before. It has a beautiful view of the mountains, the sun was setting, and the shallow rapids are calming and meditative. I am thankful that in this city, at least, it is relatively easy to drive 5-10 minutes up the road and really connect with nature.

National Night Out was a wonderful night full of old friends from the general community who I hadn't seen for a while. The girls I worked with in my first job out of college, who were young, shy, beautiful 11-13 year olds are now confident, resilient, beautiful 14-16 year olds. I felt a part of the community as I wandered around, greeting the youth and catching up.

A conversation with an acquaintance on the street tied it all together. He knocked on the window of my office when he saw me, motioning for me to come outside. He had seen me make an announcement at church and was excited to remind me about it. We started talking about lots of things: his church, the neighborhood, how things have changed in the many years he has lived in Allison Hill.

He talked about the "old days" in Allison Hill, how there used to be a vibrant farmer's market, and more stores and places of business. This was before the riots, he said. And then, after the riots, people started moving out. At least the ones who could move out, the ones who had the means to. Most of them unfortunately happened to be white.

But then he pointed to a house across the street from where we were standing, a house where an older white couple lives. "They've stuck it out," he said, "I have to tell them someday how much that means to me, they've been here for years." It was evident that their choice to stay in the city of Harrisburg, through good and bad times, meant a lot to him. It was like a statement of solidarity. While countless white churches and white families moved out of the city, a few stayed, symbolically saying, "Hey, we're in this together. We're not going anywhere."

So I am reminded of the joys, blessings, and the reasons I have chosen to live here in the first place.

Disparities

I am recently noticing in myself a tendency towards frustration with students and some of the kids that I work with. When I am working one-on-one with GED students, or one-on-five with kids, it is easy to get annoyed with hyperactivity, lack of knowledge, lateness, and inconsistency in showing up. It is easy to forget about the systems and institutions that are behind so many of the behaviors and values of the inner city.

And then I look at my GED student, who is choosing to pursue education in spite of hardship like lack of resources, lack of transportation, and difficulties with academics. I think about how by the time I was her age (18), I had already completed 13 years of private school, including a college prep high school.

I grew up with parents and family members who supported me and paid for SAT classes and provided for all my needs. I lived in a neighborhood where I could walk around at night without fear of violence, and news of shootings were rare to non-existant.

I think of one of the other kids who stopped by the house today. He is a 12 year old who acts too tough around the other guys, but is innocent, curious, even sweet when it's just him. He listed his recent family troubles- cousin who was hiding out got caught and sent to jail, another cousin recently shot and killed, another cousin killed in a car crash from driving drunk.

(A couple minutes later, he looked at me earnestly, and asked, "So...what do you think about werewolves?" introducing it as an intellectual subject for debate.)

And then I think about my 13 year old brother, just a year older, who has never had to face any of these things that my young Harrisburg friend lists off so nonchalantly. He spends the summer at the lake, plays sports with his friends, goes to the beach with my family.

There is something wrong with this picture.

But how do we get to the bottom of this? How do we confront the disparities that are so deeply rooted in our society and in our world?

My prayer is that I will continue to engage these questions in my life, and that I would live my life seeking answers to these questions.

(P.S. I just finished the book Mountains Beyond Mountains, by Tracy Kidder. Great book, and an amazing example of someone, Dr. Paul Farmer, who lives radically in tension with the above questions!)

Mothering God

A long overdue post (between trips to Guatemala, Belize, and exotic places like Nebraska and New Jersey, I've been out of touch)!

Here are the words to the song "Mothering God," all the way back from May:

Mothering God, you gave me birth, in the bright morning of this world.

Creator, source of every breath, you are my rain, my wind, my sun.

Mothering Christ, you took my form, offering me your food of light,

Grain of life, and grape of love, your very body for my peace.

Mothering Spirit, nurturing one, in arms of patience hold me close,

Go that in faith I root and grow until I flow'r, until I know.

(Jean Janzen, based on the writings of Juliana of Norwich, 15th Century)

Also, a link that describes some of the background of this hymn, which has been somewhat controversial:

http://www.umportal.org/article.asp?id=5704

Belated Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day, Josh and I went to the alternative worship service at Market Square Presbyterian Church. Though I have only been a few times, I always leave those services feeling full, contemplative, with more insight into my relationship with God and others.

This time, the focus was on God as our mother, adapted from Julian of Norwich, a French mystic. The pastor asked us to think about a woman who has had a large impact in our lives. I am blessed; several women popped into my mind- from my aunts, to my high school youth pastor, to my college pastor, to the 6 amazing women I lived with last year in D.C. But my mom was the strongest, the most consistent, and so I chose to focus on her. She was the one who carried me into this world and continually prayed with and for me, taught me daily lessons about faith, helped me to “write scripture on my heart.” We were told to call out words that described the women in our lives, and I thought of words such as “prayerful,” “loving,” “direct,” “honest,” “strong.” We contemplated how these words and many more are characteristics of God as well. This was very touching and beautiful, and afterwards we shared our reflections and sang some beautiful songs.

I have often heard people in the Church say that your relationship with your father has a huge impact on how you see and relate to God. There is no doubt that my ability to view God as a generous, loving father comes from my earthly dad. However, I am not sure I have heard anyone say that about mothers. But what I realized is that my mom has profoundly shaped my relationship with God, and how I see God. My mom has had a direct impact on my view of a loving, strong, honest, nurturing God who thinks the world of me.

I will follow up with a beautiful hymn based on the words of Julian of Norwich...

Guilt

I had a chat with a professor this week, who gently confronted me about a comment I'd made in a paper. I had said something about how at times, I felt guilty about my privileged upbringing, how I was raised in a nice house in a nice suburban town, where most, if not all of my wants and needs were met. This reality is drastically different from many of the kids and adults I've worked with in the past several years who do not have the privileges I have had. When faced with these two polar opposite realities, part of my making sense of them has included some feelings of guilt.

So my professor basically reminded me that I am who I am because of my background- my strong, loving family has given me the support and foundation I need to accomplish the things I have been put in this world to accomplish. And of course, the old "to whom much is given, much is expected."

I think it is easy for me, and many like me, to fall into guilt, and then cynicism about our backgrounds, about our race, about our privileges, about anything at all. I do feel that some guilt is part of the process of coming to terms with realities in a broken, messed up world. Guilt can also be a motivating factor to make changes in ourselves and in our world. But it can't stop there.

Guilt can't sustain us, it can only get us so far. In the end, it really just gets in the way. It can become a barrier between us and the people we want to love, the people who are different from us.

At some point, I think we have to mature out of that guilt. We have to come to terms with our background (the good and the bad) as part of who we are. I admit that I am not totally there yet, but that's okay. It's a journey, right?

Ranting...

I am feeling a little frustrated right now about my role, in social work, in the Joshua Group, in the Allison Hill community. Or maybe confused is the right word. I work and live in this community, but it is clear that I am not from here and I don’t belong. I am different- the way I walk, the way I dress, the way I talk, the color of my skin. Even though I have worked in this community for over 3 years, I don’t think I will ever quite belong.

So I wonder what my role is. There is a lot of need here, and especially with the kids. The kids need people to care; they need role models. But they need to see people who look like them. They need to see black and Latino men and women as their role models, as people they can look up to. They need to see adults from their own community who understand them like I will never quite be able to.

I am a white woman from a privileged background, so what is my role? I care deeply about this community and about the kids. I have education and skills. But what is my role? Should I even be here? If not here, where? My community of Upper Montclair, NJ doesn’t have needs the way this community does. I don’t feel “called” to be there; I don’t fit in there either. I don't think that I should necessarily abandon all my efforts in H-burg, just because of my background and the color of my skin...

Throughout college I have learned a lot about oppression, racism, and studied the history of injustice in our country. As a white woman of privilege, I need to do something about it. I want to join people in the struggle against oppression, not take over or lead that struggle, thus disempowering people. I just don’t know how to do that practically. What does that mean in everyday life, in a world of racial and class lines?

And what about the Joshua Group, which is doing a lot of good things, but is an organization with mostly white staff members serving mostly black youth. Does that just reinforce the unequal power issues that are already there? How do we join black men and women in working towards justice, without taking power away? When we send children to private school, are we giving them hope and opportunities, or are we just taking them further out of their communities? There are not many black or Latino teachers in the Catholic schools, as least that I have seen.

So what did Jesus do? Jesus lived incarnationally. He was God, and yet he was a man born into an oppressed people group, a poor community, to an unwed mother! How radical is that?! But he built bridges between rich and poor, tax collecters and royalty, Samaritans and Hebrews. Jesus stayed in his own community, but also traveled to many other communities and made connections there, freeing people from various forms of oppression, calling them to follow him.

How can I build bridges, help to free people without oppressing them, calling people to follow God by the way I live?

I love social work, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t necessarily just want to be a caseworker, a therapist, an administrator, or a policy advocate (not that there is anything wrong with those roles). I want to be involved in innovative, maybe even radical ways to counter the injustice in our society, to help free those in captivity, to help the blind to see, the lame to walk…all that crazy stuff that Jesus did! I want to build bridges between people, I want to love people, I want to live with them, even when things are messy and difficult. I don’t want to always be so cautious and put these huge boundaries in between me and the rest of the world, just because I have a degree. Sure, some boundaries are necessary, but I don’t want to be so obsessed with protecting myself that I lose sight of shared humanity. I know, I am oozing with idealism, but that is where I am!

So what is God calling me to do about all this?

A lenten decision

As Lent approached, I found myself with a long list of things I could (and should) do or give up. As I pondered this further, a theme emerged for me. I have often given into the cultural value of immediate gratification- getting what I want, when I want it. Therefore, my Lenten intention is going to be a little different this year. I am going to challenge myself on my buying habits. Since I started grad school, I often rationalize purchases- a coffee here, a piece of pizza there. "I'm so busy, tired, stressed...fill-in-the-blank, I deserve this!" I say to myself.
So throughout this Lent, rather than making a black and white rule for myself on purchasing, I am choosing to be thoughtful and intentional about buying stuff. Whenever I feel the desire to get a cup of coffee, or a new pair of boots, I am going to stop and journal/reflect about my desire. Instead of dealing with my own feelings of stress or fatigue, and owning them, am I just doing something to block those feelings out? I also want to think about where the product might come from, who might be harmed in the process of making it or getting it to me, what other costs are there to a latte, besides the $4.00 I pay for it? Costs to the environment, to workers, to myself? Maybe I'll get some research done too.

During this Lent, may we be challenged to go deeper in our relationship with God, depending on God alone, rather than things, and even people, around us. Amen.

Snow Snow SNOW!

In light of the double blizzard that has graced us with its presence lately, I would like to share a list of the things I love about snow:

1. It brings people together!

I have met more of my neighbors in the past week than I have in the first 6 months I have lived in my house. I have seen the most adorable kids come out of the houses nearby and play in the snow, and thoroughly enjoy the small snowman my roommate Ekta made. As I walked through the streets in areas that I usually avoid walking alone, people smiled and greeted me, "How're you doing?" And we both shook our heads at the power of nature as we shoveled our cars out of the snow and ice.

2. The preparation brings panic- a fun kind of panic!

My mom and I were cracking up on the phone the day before the 1st "snow event" (as it was appropriately called by someone on some radio show somewhere). People run to the grocery store, desperate to get their bread and milk to help them survive whatever nature might throw their way. Because as long as we have milk and bread, we know we can make it through.

3. It slows down the normally frantic pace of life

Instead of my usual rushing from work to school to homework to chores to class, I had to slow down. We all had to slow down. At the Joshua House, we spent at least 2 days watching movies, reading, baking, making and eating delicious food. We didn't have to rush around, in fact, we couldn't if we had wanted to. We were stuck- in the best way possible!

4. It makes us all a little more equal.

We are all subject to the whims of the snowstorm. Rich or poor, young or old, you still have to dig your car out of the snow (well, I guess you could pay someone to do it, but anyway...). We all step out of our houses and slip on the ice. The roads and highways are closed for all of us, we are all stuck. Somehow, all this snow levels the playing field a bit.

5. It's beautiful!

Whether you hate snow or love it, you have to admit, there is nothing like the snow falling on a winter day. There is nothing like the pristine white snow the day after a big storm, when the sun comes out and the sky is a bright blue. Everything looks so pure, so innocent. Even unsightly objects, such as a garbage can, somehow look beautiful covered in snow and glinting in the sunlight.

Yes, it's true, even when I am grumbling about the fact that there is still 5 inches of packed down snow and ice on my road, even when I almost hit a parked car because of it, I really like snow. A lot.

Liberated from place

I was just reading an article for one of my classes that discussed the changes in rural, small town communities in the U.S. as they become suburbanized. I thought one quote was relevant to my post about "home" a few weeks ago:

"Some question, why, despite having been liberated from place, we as a nation still search for some idealized place to live equivalent to an agrarian community, where one is known, attached, nurtured, or can sustain a coherent identity." (Sonya Salamon)

We are conflicted, placing such a high value on mobility and being "liberated from place," yet we also yearn for home and community, somewhere we belong. I, for one, am not necessarily drawn to the idea of a rural, small-town community, and yet I do yearn for the idea of a place where I am "known, attached, nurtured." I think that's why I appreciated Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow so much. Berry is in touch with place, with bringing us back to choosing a place, and committing, acknowledging both the joys and difficulties that go along with that action.

I'm still not there quite yet, but I am pondering nonetheless.

Read this, it's good:

http://blog.sojo.net/2010/01/19/haiti-and-the-wedding-at-cana/

My first class

Tonight was my first MSW class of 2010. It was good to be back, in a place with new ideas and discussion, but it is also daunting, knowing that my life will soon be consumed with Social Work- papers, tests, readings, thoughts, etc.

This class, Human Behavior in the Social Environment (HBSE) is focusing on groups and communities this semester. Our professor brought up the recent crisis in Haiti to consider several things:

Imagine a community being completely demolished- all the systems and people in place are suddenly gone. There is literally no government. What would we do? Where is our role? What skills do we have to aid?

And most importantly- do we turn away from tragedy, violence, need, or do we face it head on?

He challenged us to not get stuck in a rut, but to keep pushing ourselves to uncomfortable places (both literally and symbolically).

So, my questions follow, for prayer and meditation:

What do I do in the face of such tragedy? What is my role?

How do I/we balance our zeal as Americans to go help everyone with an understanding of culture, that we cannot save everyone, that sometimes we can do more harm than good?

Sometimes we need to learn, to observe, to gain an understanding of culture before rushing in and trying to promote our ideals and our values, our ways of saving people. Yet in a crisis (such as Haiti), there is no time to do these things, people's very lives are at stake. Still, even in a crisis situation we have to be careful that we are not just giving to give, and that we are actually helping rather than making things worse.

Lord, give us wisdom, grace, inspiration. For those suffering around the world, especially in Haiti, give them peace, strength, grace.

The song that inspired my blog name (the particularly meaningful parts are in red):

You Rise and Meet the Day

By Dar Williams

We could pretend that we're walking on petals and light, golden light
Flaunting our love like a dance step mastered, turning from left to right
But after all the colored lights are gone
Time will leave the ashes and the dawn
You rise and meet the day

I'm watching you go, it's like spying on hope ever onward with more to burn
Giving your hands and your heart to the weave of the world, though it fights each turn
But you do not give up so easily
That's how I know you won't surrender me
You rise and meet the day
It's all I need, it's all I need to know, it's all I need to know

And I love you all the time
I had always feared that some gloomy ingratitude would seize me
But you have held the dream like every morning finds
A way to hang the sun up in the sky
And now I think I have it too –
The greatest part I learned from you
You rise and meet the day

And I can see kids, maybe yours, maybe not, ohohoh, I can hear what they'll say
Laughing at pictures with the old-fashioned hats and the clothes that we're wearing today
And they will know the true and humble power
Of love that made it through the darkest hour
You rise and meet the day
It's all I need, it's all I need to know, it's all I need to know

Pieces of my heart

We always want what we don't have. Isn't that part of human nature? When I was little, I remember hating my hair- it was too wavy. Why couldn't I have stick straight hair, like some of my friends? The funny thing is, my friends who had straight hair wanted wavy or curly hair. We just can't win.

I no longer care that much about my hair, in fact, I am quite happy with the way it is. Sometimes a little curly, sometimes a bit straight. But in other ways, I still find myself longing for things I don't have.

Last year, when I was in DC, I missed Harrisburg. I missed being by the river, I missed the small town feeling. I missed my friends and my boyfriend. I missed being closer to people of all different race and class backgrounds. So, in August, I came back.

But now, I miss DC! I miss the excitement, the noise, the constant activities, the progressive, dynamic conversations. I miss walking to work, taking the bus and the metro, not even missing my car. I miss my Discipleship Year housemates intensely, I miss living in community in that way, with people who were deeply committed, loving, and filled with grace. I miss a church like New Community- informal, diverse in age, race, and social class.

I guess all that is just a part of really living, and moving, and making connections here and there, and leaving parts of your heart in places and with people.

My recent struggle (well, one of them!) has been about home, place, where I want to put my "roots" down. Do I want to go back to DC? Do I want to move closer to my family? Or stay in Harrisburg? I am 25 and starting to get tired of packing up all of my stuff and moving it every single year (for the past 8 years!). But I also have a fear of getting stuck somewhere...a fear of commitment, maybe. I still have so much I want to see and do!

But this is one of the problems with many in my generation, I think. We are so transitory, we don't have anything holding us down, so we keep on moving. We move for a job, for school, but mostly for a new experience. I think we are searching for something, for that place that will finally feel right. Perfect, even.

In the past, people rarely left their families. It wasn't so normal to just get up and move across the country for no apparent reason. You were always surrounded with cousins and aunts and uncles and parents and siblings. So now we've gained more flexibility, that cultural standard is mostly gone in mainstream white American families. But we've lost something, and we wander around trying to find it. Community, maybe? A sense of belonging to something bigger than ourselves? Maybe a little bit of both.

So my question remains- what am I looking for exactly, and where will I find it?