This post has two purposes. One is to update this blog about my trip to Camden, and two, to tell about the things I have been learning in Minnesota.
Camden, New Dirty Jersey:
I went back to Camden for just 3 days this last week. There is something about going back that is a completely unique experience. The shock of seeing 'it' for the first time is worn off, there are relationships to catch up on and continue, and there is a sense of ownership(pride) at being able to explain things to others. Going back also gave me the chance to take a deep breath, remember the ways that I was ridiculous last time, and correct for them this time.
I found myself observing much more this time, watching things come to their natural conclusions before making judgments about their effectiveness or success. Previously, I had a set of expectations and 'correct ministry strategies' that I graded Urban Promise on, and since I had a pretty unique experience, they came up short. I found out that the teacher that I had worked with in the 7th grade class did not return after Christmas break, and the kids were being taught 3 days a week by a part-time substitute.
My frustration and anger from my last experience was rooted in many different causes (personal pride, group dynamics, painful growth, and heartache for Camden). I think that this time I was able to see a different side of Urban Promise, a much more human and persistence side with the normal chaos of ministry. The people serving with UP are people and they are tired, see so much more shit than me, and are doing an amazing job.
I think that I also learned about cynicism. As a sociology major, I am trained to see and understand problems, its what I have learned in school and it has shaped the way I understand my world. This lens comes in handy when I go into places like Camden because I can comprehend (only in part) the reasons why it is that way and the ways that effects the people that live there. The dangerous thing about this way of viewing life is that it can leave me raging with anger. I find it so easy to understand society through structures and power plays and often expect others around me to do the same. I often will take it up a notch, and apply my sociological understanding to Biblical text and expect people to have biblical motivation for seeing and doing something about poverty and broken lives.
I am not releasing Christians from any call within the Bible to do justice and act mercifully. I believe that is clear regardless of a sociological understanding of situations and social problems. I am saying that criticism is not a very effective way to share the things that I am learning. Because my education causes me to advocate and take seriously the plight of the Camdens in this world, I need to understand both sides of the social equation, to translate a need for action. Angry, bitter raging may not be the most effective way of doing that and often comes from a deeply seeded source of pride in my knowledge and passion.
I think that I also began to learn that Camden is like the parable of the pearl in Matthew 13. The text talks about how the kingdom of God is like a pearl hidden in a market, where a man finds out about its existence and sells everything to obtain it. It is evident to me that throughout the Bible, God makes his home with the poor and that he meets them in a very special way. When I see Suburban Promise (a group of Pennsylvanian churches that has come together to support Urban Promise through food, school supplies, holiday gifts, and monetary support) I begin to realize that the Easter baskets they brought were a genuine gift of love. Obviously, Easter baskets are not the cure for Camden's problems, but they will probably make 300 children smile and ease the hearts of grandparents and parents that are struggling to provide for their families. The thing about the Easter baskets is that these churches aren't selling everything for the kingdom of God. That is less of an biting indictment and more of a huge part if life that they will never get to experience.
During Easter, there is something so profound and humbling about listening to a man tell his story of poverty, Urban Promise, Eastern college, and a return journey to Camden. The more awe invoking part is how much Resurrection is present in his tale, a miracle that Suburban Promise might not be experiencing through Easter baskets.
I think that rage and anger have their place. I can look in my Bible and see plenty of examples when God was angry because of injustice. To be angry is to love and to show solidarity with the conditions that someone else is forced to live in/with. Anger is a way of understanding the humanity that I share with Camden and the fact that injustice to them is injustice is my brothers and sisters, and ultimately to me. However, God does not remain angry. There is always and outlet to his anger and always a solution to the problem. So, as a 'sociologist' anger and frustration is a natural default when you start to become aware of the depth and complexity of the shit we live in, but cannot be my motivation. The hope of the gospel, of a different way of imagining my world must be the way that I walk through Camden and my classes. Anger does not bring life or love, it creates a barrier where those realities cannot exist. Hope, although it may be outlandishly difficult is many situations, does.
On a more explanatory note, we (Britta, Kelsey, and I) organized books in the basement of Urban Academy and worked at the Eastside after school site in the afternoons. We has the chance to chaperon the choir to a county teen art festival. Some of the girls in the choir were in the class that I worked with, and it was really fun to reconnect with them. The activities that we participated in where meaningful, and I think that we saw dual meaning for both us and Urban Promise which was really nice. I found myself more comfortable in most of the situations, which was a nice change.
Minnesota:
After my saturated but short jaunt in Camden, I have had the pleasure of staying with Britta's family in Alexandria, Minnesota. Life is quite a bit slower here, partially because of the snow and partially because it is small town America. It has been great, enjoying the dynamics of a different family and relaxing in a very comfortable space. It has also been an interesting endeavor to reflect on the dynamics of my own family and childhood.
After reading Ruby Payne's book, "A Framework for Understanding Poverty", I felt as though I was raised predominately with a lower class worldview and have slowly transitioned to a more middle class one as time has progressed. Most of the time I don't feel the tension of this transition, because it usually only happens to me, in the context of my own development and education. I realize it when I step back into my mostly static family and get a glimpse of how much I have changed. At times I will feel the tension my higher education within my family. I feel different, both from the person I was when I lived there and the culture they represent.
Being here, in a family where both mother and father are successful and well educated, where the children are all successful and pursuing higher education, and an atmosphere where current issues are discussed and facts about the world are thrown around with ease. It is strange to see the family that I will most likely represent in the future, knowing that there is a very high likelihood that I will marry someone of my same level of education (thank you Sociology of Marriage and the Family).
This situation has allowed me to reflect on that, but has also caused me to wonder about the ways to best engage my family, the ways to love them despite of our differences. How do I celebrate the values that they have instilled in me and the valuable things that they conveyed about life, when they may become overshadowed by further education and a broader understanding of the world? How can I honor them for their successes (which have allowed me to get to this place) and feel loved when they may not understand mine?
This is a surprisingly painful situation for me and I don't really know what to do with it most of the time.
3.22.2008
3.08.2008
..resurrection
First, I would like to apologize for my terrible grammar. I find my posts difficult to reread most of the time because of ridiculous mistakes. I will try to be better.
Secondly, my life has been chalked full of thoughts as of late. I have had a lot of experiences that has been really impacting over the last few weeks and I have been learning a lot about God.
Here is what I am learning:
A. God wants to make us really really happy. This is not in the sense that God is my lap dog and the more I pet him the more he loves me. I also have been learning about have a very utilitarian view of God and the dangers of that disposable relationship. However, he does want to deeply fulfill us and reward us when we are falling into the things that he has designed us for. I have found myself falling into a summer internship, far too easily to make it because of me. The depth and extent to which this possibility excites me is almost terrifyingly perfect. I will be working for a low income housing advocacy group, doing demographic research in Yesler Terrace. It is the direction that I feel like my life is going and to watch it so effortlessly fall in that direct is incredibly humbling. I should start accepting the level of happiness it gives me.
B. I have been attending a church on Capital Hill called Grace Church. Two weeks ago the associate pastor gave a sermon on the tax parable. He broke the situation down into a power dynamic, exposing that it was really about who was in authority of what. The question was not about taxes but about the authority of the state versus the authority of God. He went onto say that we often are the sole authority of our lives. This business of "God working" in one's life is basically bullshit. The define certain aspects of your life as God-filled and others as intrinsically devoid of his presence is to put very static walls around an omnipresent God. Additionally, if we are always attributing events and circumstances in our lives, that is defining God by our own intellect and standards, making the very nature of the box finite. If I truly believe in a transcendent God that is beyond the limited scope of my life, his authority to do confusing, painful, and odd things to me is not a sign of his neglect or absence, but simply my understanding.
C. This last weekend I volunteered at a conference called The New Conspirators Conference. It was held by the Mustard Seed Association and was a very positive time for 'progressives' to get together and connect. The focus of my weekend lead to to a funny place. I began to realize that many of the solutions of the church where simply Christianized forms of worldly solutions. We would take worldly models, slap on some Christianese and call it holy. I found myself irritated by this though. I began to think about how we are called new creations when we are saved. That means that our lives should be in more aggressive pursuit of my 'Eve' state rather than trying to better the shit of my life. If I attempt to Christianize a betterment plan for my life (morality) then I am still leaning into the reality that sin dictates the way I live my life. Before I was saved I was a slave to sin, and in many ways I am a righteous slave in my attempts at morality. I have been set free in Christ, and that is to pursue a life that is lived richly in God, not one ruled by a different tyranny of sin. I think that guilt is also a huge factor in this equation as well. When my life is based on moral conduct, I always fail, and then I always feel deep guilt in my failure. Guilt free, abundant Christianity is what I am interested in right now.
D. I am learning that relationships, both with God and other people, are annoyingly linear. I just want milestones and a clear understanding of where I am with everyone in my life. The ambiguity of not knowing can seem like too much to bear at times. The idea that you are never fully know by someone and that you never can fully know that entirety of a state of a relationship is enough to want be a hermit. I think that this ambiguity that I feel in every human relationship is very characteristic of my relationship with God. It's funny how much those intersect.
E. I am learning how to be a mouth piece for God. He is teaching me how to not own ideas. For so long I would think up 'brilliant' things and become insanely annoyed when people would reference my ideas without giving me due credit. I would be annoyed that I wouldn't get the praise for the brilliant thought and that the other person may think that the idea was originally theirs. God is showing me that he wants goodness in the lives of his people. He won't use me if I am seeking wisdom and intellect for my own selfish motivations, but he will pour out on me when I freely pass it along to others.
I have learned other things as well, and I am very grateful for this rich time in my life. God is good.
Secondly, my life has been chalked full of thoughts as of late. I have had a lot of experiences that has been really impacting over the last few weeks and I have been learning a lot about God.
Here is what I am learning:
A. God wants to make us really really happy. This is not in the sense that God is my lap dog and the more I pet him the more he loves me. I also have been learning about have a very utilitarian view of God and the dangers of that disposable relationship. However, he does want to deeply fulfill us and reward us when we are falling into the things that he has designed us for. I have found myself falling into a summer internship, far too easily to make it because of me. The depth and extent to which this possibility excites me is almost terrifyingly perfect. I will be working for a low income housing advocacy group, doing demographic research in Yesler Terrace. It is the direction that I feel like my life is going and to watch it so effortlessly fall in that direct is incredibly humbling. I should start accepting the level of happiness it gives me.
B. I have been attending a church on Capital Hill called Grace Church. Two weeks ago the associate pastor gave a sermon on the tax parable. He broke the situation down into a power dynamic, exposing that it was really about who was in authority of what. The question was not about taxes but about the authority of the state versus the authority of God. He went onto say that we often are the sole authority of our lives. This business of "God working" in one's life is basically bullshit. The define certain aspects of your life as God-filled and others as intrinsically devoid of his presence is to put very static walls around an omnipresent God. Additionally, if we are always attributing events and circumstances in our lives, that is defining God by our own intellect and standards, making the very nature of the box finite. If I truly believe in a transcendent God that is beyond the limited scope of my life, his authority to do confusing, painful, and odd things to me is not a sign of his neglect or absence, but simply my understanding.
C. This last weekend I volunteered at a conference called The New Conspirators Conference. It was held by the Mustard Seed Association and was a very positive time for 'progressives' to get together and connect. The focus of my weekend lead to to a funny place. I began to realize that many of the solutions of the church where simply Christianized forms of worldly solutions. We would take worldly models, slap on some Christianese and call it holy. I found myself irritated by this though. I began to think about how we are called new creations when we are saved. That means that our lives should be in more aggressive pursuit of my 'Eve' state rather than trying to better the shit of my life. If I attempt to Christianize a betterment plan for my life (morality) then I am still leaning into the reality that sin dictates the way I live my life. Before I was saved I was a slave to sin, and in many ways I am a righteous slave in my attempts at morality. I have been set free in Christ, and that is to pursue a life that is lived richly in God, not one ruled by a different tyranny of sin. I think that guilt is also a huge factor in this equation as well. When my life is based on moral conduct, I always fail, and then I always feel deep guilt in my failure. Guilt free, abundant Christianity is what I am interested in right now.
D. I am learning that relationships, both with God and other people, are annoyingly linear. I just want milestones and a clear understanding of where I am with everyone in my life. The ambiguity of not knowing can seem like too much to bear at times. The idea that you are never fully know by someone and that you never can fully know that entirety of a state of a relationship is enough to want be a hermit. I think that this ambiguity that I feel in every human relationship is very characteristic of my relationship with God. It's funny how much those intersect.
E. I am learning how to be a mouth piece for God. He is teaching me how to not own ideas. For so long I would think up 'brilliant' things and become insanely annoyed when people would reference my ideas without giving me due credit. I would be annoyed that I wouldn't get the praise for the brilliant thought and that the other person may think that the idea was originally theirs. God is showing me that he wants goodness in the lives of his people. He won't use me if I am seeking wisdom and intellect for my own selfish motivations, but he will pour out on me when I freely pass it along to others.
I have learned other things as well, and I am very grateful for this rich time in my life. God is good.
2.11.2008
..mirrors
Sometimes in life I go throughout my day ignorantly sporting a disaster. Large chunks of spinach hanging out between my front teeth or (my classic) walking around campus with my backpack wide open, exposing my apathy towards my schoolwork to the whole world. I usually smirk and move on, thinking of everyone that I may have given an ego boost by my unintentional catastrophe of self.
I think that this analogy is very true about who I am as a person too. My common state of life is going through it, smiling, thinking that my way is working just fine and assuming that people are admiring me from a distance. The realistic truth about myself is that sometimes I step in dog shit or have 8 billion poppy seeds in my teeth, but am walking too fast past mirrors to realize it. I think that I have the ability to stop, take the time, and examine myself in my own mirror, but the truth is that I don't. I rarely pause and think about the condition of my life and how that is directly effecting others. I have a lot of criticism about how everyone else is doing, and when it comes to me, I speed past the mirror using the excuse of grace to ease my discomfort.
Regarding the last post (about Lent), I think that Lent is intentionally stopping at the mirrors and owning the shoe that reeks and the seeds ruining my smile. Lent sometimes isn't enough for me to pull over though.
Today a friend forced me to look in a mirror and I didn't really like what I saw. I saw arrogance (that I would like to falsely label as confidence but I know that is not entirely true) and callousness and a demeanor that was hurting others. I definitely didn't enjoy gazing into the dark spots of my soul, realizing that they were huge and radically dominate in the landscape. Everything inside of me wanted to excuse myself from the situation, renaming the condition or blaming it on PMS, but to do so would be to impede personal development and, more importantly, allow me to continue to hurt others.
So I think that I am still looking at myself in the mirror. And then I will go for a little ways down the road, and come to another mirror and pull over to gaze in bewilderment at the chaos of my life. The process of Lent brings me many mirrors without the protection of all-excusing grace or the smoke of distraction. I will own these reflections, with deflating humility and bring them with me to the dead end of the Lenten season.
I think the dead end of the road has mirror in it too. Instead of being in my bathroom or held by a friend, its replacing the face of Jesus. So my last mirror is on a cross, with a body that is in immense pain with the weight of my sin pressing all around. In that image of myself of the cross, there is hope for life beyond a mirror and beyond mere reflection on the decay of my life. The mirror of myself doesn't stay on the cross, it dies a very painful death, is buried and then rises in 3 days.
There is hope for me. That hope isn't found in the misapplied grace that I give myself or the speed at which I glaze over life, but in the death and resurrection of my Savior. So I can look in my mirrors and I can look in the faces of the people that I have hurt and remorse over the ugliness, but keep on moving towards the death and resurrection of myself. In and of myself, I will never choose the cross, that is a miracle that God brings me to desire, but within the promise of my own death and resurrection there is hope for something better.
I think that that's the only change I can believe in right now. :)
I think that this analogy is very true about who I am as a person too. My common state of life is going through it, smiling, thinking that my way is working just fine and assuming that people are admiring me from a distance. The realistic truth about myself is that sometimes I step in dog shit or have 8 billion poppy seeds in my teeth, but am walking too fast past mirrors to realize it. I think that I have the ability to stop, take the time, and examine myself in my own mirror, but the truth is that I don't. I rarely pause and think about the condition of my life and how that is directly effecting others. I have a lot of criticism about how everyone else is doing, and when it comes to me, I speed past the mirror using the excuse of grace to ease my discomfort.
Regarding the last post (about Lent), I think that Lent is intentionally stopping at the mirrors and owning the shoe that reeks and the seeds ruining my smile. Lent sometimes isn't enough for me to pull over though.
Today a friend forced me to look in a mirror and I didn't really like what I saw. I saw arrogance (that I would like to falsely label as confidence but I know that is not entirely true) and callousness and a demeanor that was hurting others. I definitely didn't enjoy gazing into the dark spots of my soul, realizing that they were huge and radically dominate in the landscape. Everything inside of me wanted to excuse myself from the situation, renaming the condition or blaming it on PMS, but to do so would be to impede personal development and, more importantly, allow me to continue to hurt others.
So I think that I am still looking at myself in the mirror. And then I will go for a little ways down the road, and come to another mirror and pull over to gaze in bewilderment at the chaos of my life. The process of Lent brings me many mirrors without the protection of all-excusing grace or the smoke of distraction. I will own these reflections, with deflating humility and bring them with me to the dead end of the Lenten season.
I think the dead end of the road has mirror in it too. Instead of being in my bathroom or held by a friend, its replacing the face of Jesus. So my last mirror is on a cross, with a body that is in immense pain with the weight of my sin pressing all around. In that image of myself of the cross, there is hope for life beyond a mirror and beyond mere reflection on the decay of my life. The mirror of myself doesn't stay on the cross, it dies a very painful death, is buried and then rises in 3 days.
There is hope for me. That hope isn't found in the misapplied grace that I give myself or the speed at which I glaze over life, but in the death and resurrection of my Savior. So I can look in my mirrors and I can look in the faces of the people that I have hurt and remorse over the ugliness, but keep on moving towards the death and resurrection of myself. In and of myself, I will never choose the cross, that is a miracle that God brings me to desire, but within the promise of my own death and resurrection there is hope for something better.
I think that that's the only change I can believe in right now. :)
2.06.2008
..lent
Rarely in my life do I feel as thought I am being prepared for an event on the religious calender. I think that I ebb and flow with the tide of advertising, reflecting on the coming season because it is coming and that is just what I do. I don't feel as though I am every spiritually ready to really experience the depth of Christmas or Easter and I think that this interaction has become the normal for me in my life. For some reason, Lent has been unexpected this year. For a while I have been strangely disillusioned with myself and my relationship with God. It has been filled with a sense of failure and sad shortcomings that have left me frustrated and confused. However, I went to the Lent service at school today and it all kind of seemed to make sense with the way that I have been experiencing my faith recently. A part of me thinks that I am applying spiritual meaning to nothing, to simply ease the condition of my heart. I don't think that I will assume this to be true though. Might as well assume it to be true, I have nothing to loose.
Lent is about becoming real. Stripping away false religious pretenses to experience God in a way that is intimate and raw.
I also feel academically isolated right now. P.S.
Lent is about becoming real. Stripping away false religious pretenses to experience God in a way that is intimate and raw.
I also feel academically isolated right now. P.S.
1.27.2008
..scared
I am sitting on the yellow (jell-o) couch that I hate, but I have spent what feels like the last three weeks on this couch that I hate. My relationship to this couch feels a lot like my life. I have kind of hated the place that I have been recently but seem to stay here.
I suppose I could blame it on Camden, but its not Camden. I could blame it on 'unsustainable' Christianity but I don't think that is it either. I could think about changes in social structure or the shift into a new quarter, and search for other things to blame this feeling on. I think that all of these elements play into my current state, but the sum of them is less than the totality of my experience.
I don't know what to do. I feel like I am loosing my faith and so apathetic and heart broken about it at the same time. I am too tired of Christianity to go back to the same rut, the same cyclical guilt, the same standards that I will never reach. I don't want to live a life of Christian cliches or tightly structured Christian activities. I want my faith to mean more than a label I can put in the religion box of surveys or an easy conversation to fall back onto at a Christian conference. I tired of pretending I am perfect, have perfect revolutionary ideas, or how some strangely deep understanding of life. At the end of the day, I know little and tend to love less that I could.
So I have become blunt, and tell people how I actually am. I have noticed that I have more grace for people's humanity and that the fact that life is messy and terrible at times does not paralyze me.
Right now though, I am really really scared to talk about the place that I am in. I don't know, with certainty, things that I hold really true and only realize that they are vital to my existence when the thought of loosing them overwhelms me. I am terrified to talk to most of the people in my life about it because I don't want to be mad if they say something trite and soothing, seeing my current state as an emotional outburst. Antidoting pats on the head and 'I'll be praying for you's' seem to be the worst possible solution to this situation and are the reason that I have shrunk away from so much in my life.
I want God, that is a truth that is undeniable in my life. I am just at a complete loss in how to find him and its starting to kill me.
I suppose I could blame it on Camden, but its not Camden. I could blame it on 'unsustainable' Christianity but I don't think that is it either. I could think about changes in social structure or the shift into a new quarter, and search for other things to blame this feeling on. I think that all of these elements play into my current state, but the sum of them is less than the totality of my experience.
I don't know what to do. I feel like I am loosing my faith and so apathetic and heart broken about it at the same time. I am too tired of Christianity to go back to the same rut, the same cyclical guilt, the same standards that I will never reach. I don't want to live a life of Christian cliches or tightly structured Christian activities. I want my faith to mean more than a label I can put in the religion box of surveys or an easy conversation to fall back onto at a Christian conference. I tired of pretending I am perfect, have perfect revolutionary ideas, or how some strangely deep understanding of life. At the end of the day, I know little and tend to love less that I could.
So I have become blunt, and tell people how I actually am. I have noticed that I have more grace for people's humanity and that the fact that life is messy and terrible at times does not paralyze me.
Right now though, I am really really scared to talk about the place that I am in. I don't know, with certainty, things that I hold really true and only realize that they are vital to my existence when the thought of loosing them overwhelms me. I am terrified to talk to most of the people in my life about it because I don't want to be mad if they say something trite and soothing, seeing my current state as an emotional outburst. Antidoting pats on the head and 'I'll be praying for you's' seem to be the worst possible solution to this situation and are the reason that I have shrunk away from so much in my life.
I want God, that is a truth that is undeniable in my life. I am just at a complete loss in how to find him and its starting to kill me.
1.01.2008
..answers
Looking back on the last few days and the last month, I have begun to realize that I have not really allowed myself to be effected by the different events that have come into my life. I like to think that learning and growth doesn't come from experiences but from reflection on experiences, but that is so much easier said than done. Life happens and you experience things but the rest of your life doesn't stop, it's just paused and waiting for you to come back to it. So I have been doing that, getting swept up in life without reflection and dreaming of an arbitrary time in the future that will be a haven of debriefing and understanding. This idea is very illusive for me and I guess I am learning what unpacking along side of living life will look like.
I think the place that Camden has brought me to is one of difficult questioning. It's forced me to ask hard questions of myself, ones that reveal decaying parts of my heart, and the underdeveloped limbs of my soul. That is something that I don't really want to spend much time looking at. My lack of maturity can be pitiful and the depth of my arrogance is embarrassing. I think that for me to look for answers to the questions that I am asking right now would be missing the purpose of their existence. I think that they are in my life as a means of motivation, or a way to engage difficult topics and situations. I can't go to places like Camden and not question. All Camden is to me is an eternal pile of questions with very few answers and I think that was a reality that I wasn't expecting.
I am a person who wants answers. I expect them from people in relationships and in my beliefs and understandings of the world. I like to think that every problem has an answer and that its just a matter of finding it. But I don't know if that true. What if questions are the medium of life that we are suppose to remain in, find motivational comfort in, and let us remember our frailty in a world of confusion? I think that this concept of questioning allows God to remain sacred and mysterious and it is through this medium that I can continually pursue him. This attitude keeps me a perpetually naive student and never an expert. It forces me to trust blindly, the people that I love and the people that I fear, because they are often one in the same. And it makes me live in love, because I feel like it is the only medium that is guaranteed by God. Love and answers are different. They are different solutions to different pursuits and answers will leave me arrogant and frustrated, burned out and in despair. Love never fails, it just doesn't because it's not based upon solving problems. That's probably why it's hard.
I think the place that Camden has brought me to is one of difficult questioning. It's forced me to ask hard questions of myself, ones that reveal decaying parts of my heart, and the underdeveloped limbs of my soul. That is something that I don't really want to spend much time looking at. My lack of maturity can be pitiful and the depth of my arrogance is embarrassing. I think that for me to look for answers to the questions that I am asking right now would be missing the purpose of their existence. I think that they are in my life as a means of motivation, or a way to engage difficult topics and situations. I can't go to places like Camden and not question. All Camden is to me is an eternal pile of questions with very few answers and I think that was a reality that I wasn't expecting.
I am a person who wants answers. I expect them from people in relationships and in my beliefs and understandings of the world. I like to think that every problem has an answer and that its just a matter of finding it. But I don't know if that true. What if questions are the medium of life that we are suppose to remain in, find motivational comfort in, and let us remember our frailty in a world of confusion? I think that this concept of questioning allows God to remain sacred and mysterious and it is through this medium that I can continually pursue him. This attitude keeps me a perpetually naive student and never an expert. It forces me to trust blindly, the people that I love and the people that I fear, because they are often one in the same. And it makes me live in love, because I feel like it is the only medium that is guaranteed by God. Love and answers are different. They are different solutions to different pursuits and answers will leave me arrogant and frustrated, burned out and in despair. Love never fails, it just doesn't because it's not based upon solving problems. That's probably why it's hard.
12.29.2007
..review
So 3 out of 4 winter breaks has come and is going and it followed the trends of the previous two, with quite a bit more intensity.
Timeline of my break:
Finished school December 7th, left for Camden, New Jersey on the 8th, came back to Seattle on the 21st, went to visit my grandparents the 22nd-25th, and will be going to Portland for New Years tomorrow.
There has been a lot of movement and traveling but it has been littered with struggle and frustration, fantasies of chain smoking, and censored conversation with my family.
For the sake of brevity I guess I will just run through what the hell has happened over the last month in my life.
Right before I left, we had a semi-good bye party for John. He has decided to travel for the next quarter and so this would be the last time we all had a chance to enjoy his company for the next few months. We spent the night throwing Lunchables bologna at the walls and at some point our kitchen table turned into a tattoo parlor. The joy of freedom from academia and stress was apparent and we stayed up too late to enjoy the last few moments of our lives together. At some point in the night a small group of us gathered in the guest bedroom, where John was repacking his bags, and we decided to pray together. This spontaneous eruption of prayer is probably the most sacred time in our house for me and it was so fitting. In that moment I was overwhelmed with the amount of blessing that had been poured out on us over the last quarter and the amazing blessing of being able to share life with the people in that room. Not to sound clique, but God was really there.
I slept for 2 hours, got up and put my luggage in the car for the airport at freaking 4 in the morning. We said our goodbyes and some where fine, with the promise of familiarity in just a short 3 weeks. The goodbye for John was not really like that though. I had been wondering what that moment would be like since his announcement of traveling was made in our living room a month before. I hugged his little torso, with a fresh tattoo of 'HOPE' from the night before and left for the airport. I let myself cry awake.
But I got to the airport and I had to shift gears, preparing mentally for two weeks of a SPRINT group and a new place, with new challenges and problems and people. The flight was good, filled with excitement and my journey to Camden began with a prayer in the airport. We arrived in Philadelphia 7 hours later and Matt picked us up, drove us over the Ben Franklin Bridge, through Pennsaken, and to our home.
I worked in a 7th grade class room in the mornings with Mrs. Richards, a 50-something white teacher from the suburbs and 18 beautiful kids. Ador, AB, Shane, Ricky, Cierra, LeShawn, Alexsandra, Joel, Edwardo, Natalie, and others where the energy filled potential that sat in the seats and where bustled around the school by raised voices for the two weeks I was there. To be completely honest, the classroom was really difficult for me. I wasn't really integrated into the course. Mrs. Richard's was reaching the end of the quarter and exhausted so I did what I could and graded papers, imputed scores into the computer, and explained the Holocaust. It was exhausting to watch her yell and after a week I was frustrated to the point of tears, watching a good 40% of the class day rot away in a struggle for silence and stillness, objectives that seem futile and pointless to me, a simple diversion to creative engagement and positive re-enforcement on the teacher's part. The best part of the two weeks that I was there was the hour I was left alone with the class, to monitor 'free time'. After about 20 minutes of knitting and other various activities, boredom entered the classroom and the volume rose, indicating a need for some direction. So Shane came up to the front of the class and shared a poem that he had written about a love just out of reach of his clammy, prematurely aged hands. And the class was quiet and then they erupted in clapping and began to clamor for their chance at classroom fame. Cierra came up and shared a poem about her life in Camden and then the class snapped with reverence at her accurate depiction of marginalized hope in a 'place like Camden'. It was this moment that Mrs. Richard's returned to the class of civilized poets. In my pride and self-righteousness I felt like it was my middle finger to her two of screaming demands.
I would leave, have lunch with my team and then scrounge up a ride to the downtown after school camp. I worked with 12 kids there, between the 3 and 5th grade. They were noticeably more intense than the kids at Camden Forward and the experience was much more confrontational and brash. I found it much easier to love these kids, in all of their cursing and song-singing that in the artificially forced silence of the private school. I worked with Jacob on his social studies homework, Shaniya on her reading, Tanequah on a crayon rendition sun bathing rabbits, and Robert on basic phonics. Robert is in 3rd grade, has a learning disability, and can't read. He can also plaster this ears to the side of his head which is pretty funny. His nickname for me was Squidward and it kind of made me sad. Haha. After school was great. We left with the grand finale of roller skating. The is something neutralizing about a common activity where screaming is okay and everyone is on the edge of failure. It was the deepest sense of settledness I experienced in Camden, rolling around in circles with my lonely hand filled with the love and trust of learning roller skaters.
I struggled immensely in Camden. Poverty is fucking horrible. It watch children be neglected and an entire section of society ignored is infuriating and I don't really know what to think/do about it at the end of the day. I found myself looking at my skin color with confusion, realizing how little I know about myself and how awkward I feel in my caucasian suit. I am excited about this awkwardness and excited to stumble into learning something new about the world and myself.
God was in Camden and he was there in little ways and in big ones too. The people that are there are brimming with God. I have much more to learn about this and I feel like it will come with more reflection and time and conversation with God.
Coming home. Haha. The same. Nothing changes but I change and then this become an intense disconnect because I have the same face and the same laugh, but my brain is different and my heart is different and my understanding of myself and God and this world are all different. So I get asked how it was working with inner city black kids and don't know what to say and I get talked at about how many people in poverty would not choose to leave because of a lack of moral fiber and sit in shock and I get told that hating rich people is a sin and that I comprise 1/4 of the perfect American family. I am at the point where I don't know how to engage my father. I don't know what loving him looks like because I feel loved by him but entirely misunderstood, which leaves me confused and frustrated as hell.
I don't know how to be the quintessential daughter in a lilly-white, suburban landscape when I don't think about family like that anymore and I experience God in community. So I cry because they don't know me and its hard to love people who are so close but who don't understand. I fear that I come across as an arrogant bitch and I don't how to be and how to love.
So its good to be back in my house, where laughter comes easily and God is here in life and not just in verbiage. I am really excited for this next quarter. I am excited to learn, so much! I am excited to love with abandon and get hurt and get up and be okay. I am excited to fall asleep talking with God and wake up dreaming about foreign relations with China and laugh at how fucking ridiculous I am.
It should be a great quarter.
Timeline of my break:
Finished school December 7th, left for Camden, New Jersey on the 8th, came back to Seattle on the 21st, went to visit my grandparents the 22nd-25th, and will be going to Portland for New Years tomorrow.
There has been a lot of movement and traveling but it has been littered with struggle and frustration, fantasies of chain smoking, and censored conversation with my family.
For the sake of brevity I guess I will just run through what the hell has happened over the last month in my life.
Right before I left, we had a semi-good bye party for John. He has decided to travel for the next quarter and so this would be the last time we all had a chance to enjoy his company for the next few months. We spent the night throwing Lunchables bologna at the walls and at some point our kitchen table turned into a tattoo parlor. The joy of freedom from academia and stress was apparent and we stayed up too late to enjoy the last few moments of our lives together. At some point in the night a small group of us gathered in the guest bedroom, where John was repacking his bags, and we decided to pray together. This spontaneous eruption of prayer is probably the most sacred time in our house for me and it was so fitting. In that moment I was overwhelmed with the amount of blessing that had been poured out on us over the last quarter and the amazing blessing of being able to share life with the people in that room. Not to sound clique, but God was really there.
I slept for 2 hours, got up and put my luggage in the car for the airport at freaking 4 in the morning. We said our goodbyes and some where fine, with the promise of familiarity in just a short 3 weeks. The goodbye for John was not really like that though. I had been wondering what that moment would be like since his announcement of traveling was made in our living room a month before. I hugged his little torso, with a fresh tattoo of 'HOPE' from the night before and left for the airport. I let myself cry awake.
But I got to the airport and I had to shift gears, preparing mentally for two weeks of a SPRINT group and a new place, with new challenges and problems and people. The flight was good, filled with excitement and my journey to Camden began with a prayer in the airport. We arrived in Philadelphia 7 hours later and Matt picked us up, drove us over the Ben Franklin Bridge, through Pennsaken, and to our home.
I worked in a 7th grade class room in the mornings with Mrs. Richards, a 50-something white teacher from the suburbs and 18 beautiful kids. Ador, AB, Shane, Ricky, Cierra, LeShawn, Alexsandra, Joel, Edwardo, Natalie, and others where the energy filled potential that sat in the seats and where bustled around the school by raised voices for the two weeks I was there. To be completely honest, the classroom was really difficult for me. I wasn't really integrated into the course. Mrs. Richard's was reaching the end of the quarter and exhausted so I did what I could and graded papers, imputed scores into the computer, and explained the Holocaust. It was exhausting to watch her yell and after a week I was frustrated to the point of tears, watching a good 40% of the class day rot away in a struggle for silence and stillness, objectives that seem futile and pointless to me, a simple diversion to creative engagement and positive re-enforcement on the teacher's part. The best part of the two weeks that I was there was the hour I was left alone with the class, to monitor 'free time'. After about 20 minutes of knitting and other various activities, boredom entered the classroom and the volume rose, indicating a need for some direction. So Shane came up to the front of the class and shared a poem that he had written about a love just out of reach of his clammy, prematurely aged hands. And the class was quiet and then they erupted in clapping and began to clamor for their chance at classroom fame. Cierra came up and shared a poem about her life in Camden and then the class snapped with reverence at her accurate depiction of marginalized hope in a 'place like Camden'. It was this moment that Mrs. Richard's returned to the class of civilized poets. In my pride and self-righteousness I felt like it was my middle finger to her two of screaming demands.
I would leave, have lunch with my team and then scrounge up a ride to the downtown after school camp. I worked with 12 kids there, between the 3 and 5th grade. They were noticeably more intense than the kids at Camden Forward and the experience was much more confrontational and brash. I found it much easier to love these kids, in all of their cursing and song-singing that in the artificially forced silence of the private school. I worked with Jacob on his social studies homework, Shaniya on her reading, Tanequah on a crayon rendition sun bathing rabbits, and Robert on basic phonics. Robert is in 3rd grade, has a learning disability, and can't read. He can also plaster this ears to the side of his head which is pretty funny. His nickname for me was Squidward and it kind of made me sad. Haha. After school was great. We left with the grand finale of roller skating. The is something neutralizing about a common activity where screaming is okay and everyone is on the edge of failure. It was the deepest sense of settledness I experienced in Camden, rolling around in circles with my lonely hand filled with the love and trust of learning roller skaters.
I struggled immensely in Camden. Poverty is fucking horrible. It watch children be neglected and an entire section of society ignored is infuriating and I don't really know what to think/do about it at the end of the day. I found myself looking at my skin color with confusion, realizing how little I know about myself and how awkward I feel in my caucasian suit. I am excited about this awkwardness and excited to stumble into learning something new about the world and myself.
God was in Camden and he was there in little ways and in big ones too. The people that are there are brimming with God. I have much more to learn about this and I feel like it will come with more reflection and time and conversation with God.
Coming home. Haha. The same. Nothing changes but I change and then this become an intense disconnect because I have the same face and the same laugh, but my brain is different and my heart is different and my understanding of myself and God and this world are all different. So I get asked how it was working with inner city black kids and don't know what to say and I get talked at about how many people in poverty would not choose to leave because of a lack of moral fiber and sit in shock and I get told that hating rich people is a sin and that I comprise 1/4 of the perfect American family. I am at the point where I don't know how to engage my father. I don't know what loving him looks like because I feel loved by him but entirely misunderstood, which leaves me confused and frustrated as hell.
I don't know how to be the quintessential daughter in a lilly-white, suburban landscape when I don't think about family like that anymore and I experience God in community. So I cry because they don't know me and its hard to love people who are so close but who don't understand. I fear that I come across as an arrogant bitch and I don't how to be and how to love.
So its good to be back in my house, where laughter comes easily and God is here in life and not just in verbiage. I am really excited for this next quarter. I am excited to learn, so much! I am excited to love with abandon and get hurt and get up and be okay. I am excited to fall asleep talking with God and wake up dreaming about foreign relations with China and laugh at how fucking ridiculous I am.
It should be a great quarter.
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