Life in L'Arche

To another blog site and beyond!

2008-07-12T10:43:00.003-04:00

Hey friends. Please find me at http://heatherbixler.wordpress.com/. I'm trying Wordpress for a change.

Time for a change....

2008-06-03T11:17:00.002-04:00

It's that time again, folks. My time as an assistant in l'Arche has ended (though, they say you can take the assistant out of l'Arche, but you can't take l'Arche out of the assistant). Therefore, my blawg title is obsolete, sadly. Time for a change. Naming a blog is no easy-to-acquire skill. These are, presumably, the things I'm trying to avoid:

1) Exclusiveness: Unless I really wanted to post entries about some esoteric interests of mine, I would need to avoid such titles as "Havarti Heaven: A Cheese Blog" or "Stuff Young White Mainline-Evangelical Women Who Are Politically Liberal and Theologically Orthodox Like"

2) Self-Absorbtion: Yes, I'm from the Facebook generation, where I assume everyone cares about my highly-nuanced political and religious beliefs, the number of countries I've visited in the last year, and the books I've read that have 'changed my life.' Blogs are an opportunity for my generation, already completely obsessed with Self, to further bolster the illusion that our ideas are actually new, unique, and deserving of other's attention. Of course, the mere fact that I have access to a personal computer and wireless Internet, as well as having ample leisure time to type away in subtly-hip coffeehouse as I sip delicious, pricey coffee, shows that my ideas are really the ideas of the privileged few. The single mother on government assistance? The migrant farm worker? The immigrant day-laborer? They remain voiceless in the blogosphere where, supposedly, everyone deserves to be heard.

3) Pretentiousness: There is a temptation in the blogworld to elevate the status (i.e. # of hits per day) of your blogged ideas and musings by referencing an obscure (dead) philosopher or theologian as your blog title, "Inside Foucault's Panopticon" or "The Aquinas Tales." Better (or worse) yet is a blog title written in a dead language.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy reading blogs and have many friends who update regularly. I so enjoy hearing their thoughts and ideas. And I enjoy putting my thoughts and ideas out there, as well. My project here is to create a blog that is not exclusive, doesn't lend itself to self-absorption, and doesn't try to convince others that my thoughts are particularly special. Maybe the project is impossible and I am willing to concede that it is (could my attempt at this be, in fact, a project in self-righteousness??). But if anyone has any fabulous ideas regarding a blog that does not fall into the above three categories, I will delight in them!

For those amused/alarmed by Christian sub-culture...

2008-05-23T15:28:00.009-04:00

Thanks to the Internets, there are a lot of back alleys where Christians can go to snicker about the ridiculous nature of Christian sub-culture, consumerism, "relevance," and the like. For those that simultaneously delight in and disdain all things Christian, Inc., check these out. If you have any more to offer, please do share:

Lark News - Think of this as an "Evangelical Onion."

Stuff Christians Like - I really like #203 & #208. Similar to SWPL.

How Evangelical Are You? - An important test (your salvation hinges on it) from Lark News.

Oriental Trading Company - No, not a joke, I'm afraid. Those near and dear to me know how much enjoyment I get out of this mass produced Christian kitsch for VBS programs.

Ship of Fools - Go-to site for Christian sub-culture sludge.

Crummy Church Signs - There are a few on here from my area, thanks to my friend Matt.

Church Sign Generator - Make your own crummy church sign! This is mine:

Things I'm going to miss...

2008-05-21T09:57:00.008-04:00

-Fritz starting every conversation with "Kevin had a seizure" and answering every question with "My mom."

-Eating dinner with a crowd of people each night.

-$1.00 movie nights at the Arlington Cinema Draft House

-Linda's impersonation of me impersonating her ("Geoooorge....).

-The opportunity to share memories and blessings with people during their celebrations.

-"Beer Accompaniment" with Terrence.

-Hazel laughing at my jokes and competing in staring contests in the van.

-Visiting the statue of Mary with Fritz after prayer night ends.

-Linda rubbing her hands together in delight when she accomplishes a task.

-Long, interesting conversations with Mandy on our many road trips or walks around the block.

-Drinking wine with Dottie in the living room after routine is done.

-Finding the most clandestine way to scoop ice cream in the kitchen.

-Lois - her calming presence, her care, her consistency and commitment to our community.

-Dancing like crazy at our l'Arche holiday parties.

-The spontaneous moments where I find Fritz in the kitchen cleaning, putting away the dishes, and laughing to himself.

-Having ample time to read and rest in my room.

-Happy hour with l'Arche DC folks.

-Helping Linda with her exercises and always being impressed with her perseverance.

-Hearing Alan's movie reviews and sports news.

-Going grocery shopping with Fritz.

-Hazel always seeming to know where exactly I left my keys or my shoes or my purse.
-Having Fritz go through the calendar and tell me about the holidays and happenings of each month, complete with sound effects and hand motions.

-Spending ample amount of time at Murky Coffee with Elaine and Mandy.

-Talking politics with my housemates.
-Fritz's long after-dinner prayer, and the fact that I have it memorized.

16 days and counting...

2008-05-14T12:08:00.003-04:00

My time in l'Arche is coming to a close. Two communities (Portland & DC), three roles (respite, assistant, and home life coordinator), and 23 months later, I am finishing up my time -- at least for now. Since graduating from college in 2006, this has been my way of life: preparing massive nightly meals, flossing teeth, playing silly games, administering meds, watching Oprah on the couch, filling out droves of paper work, baking cookies, attending multiple weekly meetings, singing songs, shoveling snow off the driveway, dropping people off at work, praying after dinner, sweeping the floor, buying a ton of groceries, leading prayer nights, going on retreats. The day-to-day changes, the various challenges and opportunities, the multiple avenues of growth have proven to be really good fit for my personality. I thrive on change, on each day being different. Monotony tends to deaden my soul.

This life has been a strange mixture of stay-at-home parent, social worker, pastor, and event coordinator. Good, practical life skills earned, for sure, not to mention learning how to posture myself towards the vulnerable and how to identify/come to terms me with my own vulnerabilities. There was a time where this sort of work was frightening and foreign. Though I felt I embodied certain abstract notions of kindness and positivity before coming to l'Arche, I never understood myself as the type of person who could love others in practical, physical ways. Nor could I have ever described myself as a patient person, a listener, a selfless caregiver, a gentle presence. In fact, I think most people who come into l'Arche wouldn't immediately characterize themselves in these ways. And those that do will find that they've never had opportunity to practice patience, forgiveness, generosity. We just don't live in a society where these virtues can naturally be practiced. They have to be conjured up, dusted off, put to good use, else they will atrophy and dissolve.

L'Arche is a place where we can be more fully human. It is a place where we can practice the long-forgotten disciples of simplicity, peace-making, and presence. And it is a place where we can express our hopes, fears, joys, and pains in real, tangible ways. L'Arche provides us, core members and assistants alike, with the opportunity to live righteously in a way that our larger society cannot. We cannot expect the woman in front of us at the post office to treat us with dignity and respect, because this is not the culture of bureaucracy. There, efficiency is paramount, as well as detachment, isolation, and autonomy. We cannot expect the driver behind us on the Beltway to practice selflessness, because this is not the culture of the Beltway. In these places, we have no common culture that informs our behavior or tells us how to love one another. We may have basic common courtesy, but it's a politeness rooted in Kant's Social Contract, not in the theological narrative of the Church.

In a more broader sense, we need the Church to be our common culture, the Body that informs our way of being and doing, of buying and voting. Just as l'Arche has established a way of life for its community members (based on the Beattitudes), the Church must provide a place for us to act out the tenants of our faith. This is why disputes within parishes or dioceses that are settled in a secular court provide no witness for the Church as an alternative culture. This is why parishes that are more comfortable modeling themselves off of the social and fiscal policies of the Republican or Democratic parties have lost their prophetic voice.

L'Arche's uniqueness to the surrounding culture, as well as to any other organization that cares for the developmentally disabled, is so telling. People come to l'Arche and are changed because they've never experienced anything like it before - not in their places of work, their families, or even their churches. Guests who come to dinner talk of their experiences as "brief encounters with Jesus." Core members enter l'Arche after years of living at home or in institutions, and finally, finally they become fully alive. Assistants come to serve and find that they, too, are experiencing healing and growth as they never have before. L'Arche is a different place, an alternative way of being. And it's appeal is wide-spread.

Yes, yes, my time in l'Arche has taught me about myself, about relationships, and community, and loving in tangible ways. But most profoundly, l'Arche has provided me with a vision of what the Church Universal ought to be. It's said that l'Arche is not a solution but a sign to the world, pointing to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. More often than not, the Church believes that She Herself is the solution, when in fact She is called to be the vessel of God's Good News, pointing others towards that which is greater than Herself. If the Church was less concerned about solving problems and more concerned about faithful witness, orthodox theology, and communal identity as a people bound up in the narrative of the Christian faith, perhaps our experience of church would be more transforming, life-changing, challenging, and disciplining, just as l'Arche is. Perhaps the Church would finally start acting like the Church.

Will Willimon

2008-04-18T14:16:00.002-04:00

I'm no United Methodist, but I'm dating one, and I'm about to attend a UM seminary. On top of those things, I've found myself particularly enamored with Will Willimon, former dean of Duke Chapel and bishop of the North Alabama Conference. I didn't know much about Willimon (or Methodism, really) before I started to listen to and read some of his sermons, essays, and interviews. I only knew that he was good friends with Stanley Hauerwas and co-authored the book, Resident Aliens. But, thank you Itunes, I've had the opportunity to hear the wise, gruff, no-nonsense voice of Willimon piped directly into my basement room at l'Arche via his podcasts. As I said, I'm not a United Methodist (and very often Willimon preaches directly to or about the UM church), but I am an ecumenist, and can appreciate the unique gifts and strengths and struggles of other church traditions.

I appreciate Willimon for the same reasons that I appreciate Hauerwas -- neither are willing to bend the knee to the liberal Protestant deism that's profoundly shaping many mainline churches today. Willimon refuses to believe that the Enlightenment is the greatest thing to happen to the Church, nor does he tolerate the idea that theology steeped in individual experience (a liberal AND conservative epidemic) has anything to do with the Gospel. Instead, Willimon believes that the Triune God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - is present in our lives, shaping us into disciples, and calling us into relationship. Mainly, Willimon just speaks the truth to conservatives and liberals who've attempted (and often succeeded) at founding their churches on the values of the Republican or Democratic party, rather than the Christian story. Needless to say, what he has to say is extremely refreshing, especially for Christian who can't seem to find a church that speaks out against war and greed AND takes Scripture and church tradition seriously.

As I was searching around for some Willimon gems, I came across a keynote address given at Christ College at Oxford University. It's entitled, "What if Wesley Was Right?" I realize that I know very little about the essence of Wesley's theology, which is why I found this piece particularly interesting, especially in light of the changes and fractures occurring in my own church (the Anglican Communion) and the repercussions those changes have on the Church catholic. It's long, and worth the read; though I can't really do justice summarizing the entire address, here are some parts that made me shout "Amen!"

To ask, 'What if Wesley was right?' is to allow ourselves to be challenged by Wesley’s grasp of reality. And if we should be so engaged by him, interrogated by him, and if we find ourselves thinking about God with him, why, we might again become theologians ourselves.
Rather than assume that the task of the interpreter is to make the text more meaningful to sophisticated, modern people who drive Volvos, Wesley seems to assume that the task of the text is to make the interpreters’ lives more difficult."
Too troubled by our expectations of what our audience could and could not hear, we reduced the gospel to a set of sappy platitudes anybody could accept and no sensitive, thinking person could resist. “Open minds, Open hearts, Open doors.” Our testimony got reduced to whatever the market could bear.
Spent Calvinism, sliding into a renovated Deism, has triumphed... God is all distant concept, abstraction, and essence (Marcus Borg’s The Heart of Christianity) and never speaking, revealing, troubling subject. We’ve got just enough God to give our lives a kind of spiritual tint without so much God as to interfere with our running the world as we damn well please.
Of course, most congregations that I know love such moralistic Deism. The subtext is always, You are gods unto yourselves. Through this insight, this set of principles, this well applied idea you can save yourselves by yourselves. Whether preached by an alleged theological conservative or would be liberal, we’re all Schliermachians now. Theology is reduced to anthropology because unlike Wesley, we’re obsessed with ourselves rather than God. God is humanity spoken in a resonate, upbeat voice backed up with power-point presentation. Our noble Arminianism really does degenerate into Pelagianism when the divine gift of divine-human synergism loses its divine initiation. My image of us United Methodists on Sunday morning is that we come to church with pencil and pad ready to get our assignments for the week, not from God but from the preacher: “This week church, work on your sexism, racism, and be nice to sales clerks. Come back next week and I’ll give you another assignment.” God thus becomes the patron of politics of the right (IRD) or the left (NCC) in a last ditch effort to give God something useful to do.
Today the Methodist movement, at least in it North American and European vestiges, suffers from the debilitating effects of a truncated theology. We are attempting to revive a church on a too thin description of God.
When asked, “What qualities do you most desire in pastors who are employed to start new congregations?” Borden replied, “They must be joyfully Trinitarian and orthodox in their theology, stressing the redeeming work of God in Jesus Christ.” I thought I was hearing Wesley.
On the cross, Jesus didn’t just do something about our guilt; Jesus defeated the kingdom of Satan and established the Kingdom of God; Jesus recreated the world and us, making us into a new people who had a fresh start in life.
It’s not radical for us to think that we save ourselves by ourselves. What’s radical is to assert a God who is able to work signs and wonders... The Enlightenment still holds our imaginations captive and that captivity is killing us.

Help Save Manassas from "Help Save Manassas"

2008-04-04T22:12:00.003-04:00

Those that have been following the despicable, anti-immigrant happenings of Prince William County as of late will appreciate this. The Washington Post just ran a story in today's Metro section about a Prince William County "blog wars" between the hyper-conservative blogger, Greg Letiecq, and left-of-xenophobic blogger, Alanna Almeda. Apparently, Letiecq is one of the more influential residents of PWC, and according to the article, he has "helped elect political allies, punish opponents, and shape local public policy" through his blog (totally frightening, I know - blog culture is so weird). The blog subtitle actually reads, "Driving liberals, dhimmis and illegal alien apologists absolutely insane since 2005..." It receives 1,400 hits a day. I'm feeling a little sick.

Well, Alemda was a contributor to Letiecq's blog for some time until she was removed from the site. Subsequently, she began her own blog (or an "anti-blog," apparently) to counter the xenophobia rampant in Manassas and other parts of PWC. She isn't a liberal, by any means (are there any in this county?), but she thinks the recent immigration policies are totally out of line. Nice that there is an alternative voice out there in the blogosphere, a place where everyone has a voice...or something like that.

PostSecret

2008-03-18T14:02:00.005-04:00

Similar to Found Magazine, yet a bit more sobering, is PostSecret.

It's been around for a while but I've only just discovered it.

If you are someone, like me, who is keenly interested in the secrets and idiosyncrasies of other people, check it out.

Be prepared for some serious sadness (though some are lighter - see above).

Perhaps PostSecret will help us to tread more softly around angry strangers or disappointing friends who could very well carry deep wounds.

Found Magazine

2008-03-18T13:39:00.007-04:00

People find things...notes, pictures, ticket stubs....

and if they are interesting, they put them online.

These are some great ones I saw today.

2008-03-07T16:01:00.002-05:00

The Virginia state government approved a bill to "eliminate gaps in the mental health system" as brought to light by the recent Virginia Tech shooting. Needless to say, this bill has me excited. We encountered absurdity after frustrating absurdity when we tried to committ ED to psychiatric care last summer. Even when we saw him spiraling down mentally and emotionally, we could do nothing but wait for his behavior to become so out of control that we had to call the police. No joke.

ED is his own guardian, and even though he had not committed a crime, his mental illness compounded with his mental retardation (dual diagnosis) pretty much added up to involuntary admission. There's no way someone like ED is going to voluntarily sign up to spend the night in a foreign place away from familiar people. This is just unrealistic. ED's self-gaurdianship is an important part of his individuation and independence as an adult with MR. I would never want this taken from him because of his mental illness. Instead, this law would make it possible for mental health professionals to admit adults w/o guardians to mental health facilities for treatment.

If this law had been in place BEFORE the Spring/Summer of 2007, we would have been able to get ED treatment long before he spiraled out of control. We would never have had to endure the trauma of calling the police who would then handcuff ED, put him in the patrol car, drive over to the nearest ER, and sign a bunch of papers to admit ED into the hospitals care. We wouldn't have had to go to court the next day, ED still in handcuffs, and make the case to the judge that ED is mentally ill and needs to be placed in a psychiatric facility. It was a horrendous process and one we had to go through twice. Rediculous.

I'm relieved that this process can now be bypassed, that the police and the court room and the judge can be cut out of the equation, that people like ED won't be criminalized/demonized because of their mental illness or mental retardation.

Another test....geez!

2008-03-07T15:53:00.002-05:00

Really, no surprises here, as always. I am no longer a mystery to myself. Sadly.

Theological "worldview"

2008-02-24T10:05:00.010-05:00

According to this test, I am a neo-orthodox (though there is no post-liberal designation as far as I can tell) ...and only 7% Fundamentalist! I feel pretty good about the top three -- 1) Neo orthodox, 2) Roman Catholic, and 3) Emergent/Postmodern. Feel free to take the quiz and report your results. I'm really hoping someone gets Classical Liberal. Or Fundamentalist. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

You scored as a Neo orthodox
You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.

Neo orthodox 82%
Roman Catholic 68%
Emergent/Postmodern 61%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 54%
Classical Liberal 29%
Modern Liberal 29%
Reformed Evangelical 25%
Charismatic/Pentecostal 18%
Fundamentalist 7%

Things that are easier, things that are hard...

2008-02-01T10:54:00.001-05:00

I can't figure it out. I have been living in l'Arche for a total of 20 months (and in the Greater DC community for 17), and life has truly never been easier. I'm trying to discover the root of my feelings of contentment, but its a difficult task. I have long since passed the idealistic, everything-about-l'Arche-is-wonderful stage....that probably ended the second month I was here. And I've also passed the stage of "finally feeling settled" at least a year back. And this isn't much of a milestone because I adjust pretty easily to new situations. But truly I say to you, l'Arche is easier now than it's ever been. There could be multiple reasons for this, both internal and external.

First, life in this home was tumultuous, to say the least, when I first arrived. There were some major turn-over in assistants and leadership and some huge governmental hurtles to overcome before this house even opened. Plus, all of us were new -- core members and assistants. There were no routines, no traditions, no foundation upon which we could base our life together. We had to figure out how to do everything anew while also abiding by the simultaneously strict and ambiguous regulations of the county and state government (we were the first group home to open in Northern VA in more than a decade).

Also, because we were stressed, relationships in the house were stressed. You couldn't gather together people so different from one another even if you tried. And we were living under the same roof, buying groceries together, working together, essentially spending our entire lives together. And yet, there was some serious interpersonal tension hanging over our heads for a while there. As we were attempting to facilitate positive, healthy relationships among the core members, we were having our own issues that were either ignored or denied. Though I wasn't a member of one of the "opposing" parties, I was affected greatly by the simmering conflict.

Along with this, one of our core members began to mentally and emotionally disintegrate. These downward spiral started off subtly but generally grew, ranging from depression to full-blown outbursts to a week or two of hypomanic elation. Yikes. No week was like the next. And we had few, if any, supports in regards to good psychiatric care and counseling. We had to juggle this core members volatile moods with the basic needs and cares of the house and other core members, and this was no easy task. Our team meetings would stretch so long sometimes, up to 3 hours, because we had so much to talk about. And we were exhausted.

Then, come May 1st of 2007, I became the Home Life Coordinator, essentially taking on responsibility for the tensions and anxieties already present in the house. Along with adjusting to my new role as head of house, this core member took a turn for the worst and went into the pysch hospital twice. An assistant left rather unexpectedly and we struggled to find a replacement in the midst of the crisis we were experiencing in the house. And I was biting off more than I could reasonably chew -- performing all the duties of leadership while still working 40 hours a week of routines and accompanying a core member. I became so stressed that I started losing weight and developed acid reflux. I had difficulty sleeping and essentially avoided being in the house when I wasn't on call.

After toiling through several months of chaotic life in the home (primarily centered around this one core member), we made the tough decision of discharging this core member from the home. We couldn't meet his needs. We couldn't support him in his mental illness. We were in way over our head. And yet we loved him and cared for him and dreaded seeing him go. But, as we suspected, life afterwards was just...easier. Relationships in the house were gelling, other core members were happy, new assistants were being oriented and taking on more responsibility, I was building strong friendships with other members in leadership. And, on top of all this, I was learning to let go of some of the unrealistic expectations I had for myself as Home Life Coordinator. I learned to follow through with the important tasks, to not take myself too seriously, to say no to things I knew I couldn't do, to lead by example, to have fun and laugh when mistakes happen. In a sense, my newly found comfort with my newly acquired role may be the internal factor that has made life easier now.

When I look back at the first 8 months of our life as a l'Arche home, I am amazed we came out on the other side! This is not to say, of course, that we never experienced times of joy and grace within our community. There were plenty of those...countless good memories, funny stories, interesting experiences. But life was, in fact, hard. And I think I realize that now that I'm on the other side, breathing a sigh of relief, sleeping in late, spending my weekends at l'Arche rather than fleeing to my parents' house. Humans are highly adaptable, and we adapted....we made do. But we weren't necessarily thriving.

I have much to say to other l'Arche communities who, more often than not, "make do." They hire assistants who are clearly inept or carry weight baggage into the community. They bring in core members who cannot be fully supported in a l'Arche setting, core members who ultimately toxify community life. They become so stuck in tradition and ritual that they are no longer open to new ideas, new ways of doing things. They keep the same individuals in leadership positions for years on end, individuals who may not be doing their job to the best of their ability. Blah blah. There are ways to be a healthy community, and there are ways to pollute a healthy community.
Life is easier now, and I like to think that it's not just the external environment that has prompted this change, but my own internal environment. I like to think that I could face any number of hardships, knowing that I have faced tremendous hardship in the past. I like to think that the challenges of l'Arche have changed me, made me a better human being - more patient, less fearful, more realistic, less anxious.

All this being said, my official "end time" is the end of May -- that leaves me with 3 more months. Hard to believe! Feels like I just got here, and now I'm the "old and experienced one" admits the new assistants. I am feeling good about tying up my time here in l'Arche, but I obviously have some ambivalent feelings about leaving. I've been "living l'Arche" since I graduated from college, so it's pretty remarkable to think about doing something else. But isn't that what my life has been for the last few years? Transition here, transition there. Packing up, moving along, meeting new people, saying good bye.

April 2006

2008-01-11T13:23:00.000-05:00

A Trip to Transylvania and a Car Accident

Brasov (known as the “Prague of Romania”) and Sibiu were also great places to visit. We went to several museums and churches and got into some nice, healthy debate with Cornel about the importance and relevance of the Old Testament to the Christian faith (I could feel the spirit of one Marv Wilson stirring inside me as I emphasized the importance of 80% of the historical Scriptures). This is not to say, of course, that the Orthodox don’t place importance on the Old Testament…they (at least Cornel) just think that the New Testament is the most important. I, of course, begged to differ. But I wouldn’t be surprised if good portions of both of our arguments got lost in translation, which happens often here.

On our way back from Brasov to Sighisoara, we were riding through the middle of town and had to swerve out of the way of some insanely slow pedestrian walking across the street. As we did, our car fishtailed a bit and we side-swiped an on-coming car. Fortunately we weren’t going too fast and the other car was barely damaged, but the Dacia wasn’t looking too great when we inspected it further. Nothing happened internally, but the entire side bumper on the driver’s side had been bent outwards and one of the headlights was broken. After 3 hours of lovely Romanian police bureaucracy, we took the car to a mechanic and got a taxi ride back to Dorothy’s place. No real harm done and the mechanic cost hardly anything at all.

My Final Letter from Romania

Dragut si dragas,
As I write this, I have only two nights left in Romania, only one of those left in Lupeni. It literally seems like ages since Bethany and I first got here. We can hardly believe that there was a time when we hadn't heard the Romanian language, when we hadn't met Dana and Brandi, when we hadn't seen the beautiful mountains of Romanian. It's experiences like these that can feel so short yet so rich and fulfilling. Three months usually go by in a flash, but when each day of those three months is filled with newness, each week passes like a year. But now looking back, I realize that this time is a drop in the sea compared to my 22 years on earth. How amazing that we can learn more and experience more in those tiny moments than we can in a decade! Einstein was right when he stated that time is relative.

I spent time yesterday staring out the window of the maxi-taxi as we cruised from Lupeni to Cheile Butti (30 minutes away) and my friend Diana asked, "What are you doing?." I said "Trying to commit Romania to memory." I'm trying to memorize this place, the shape of the mountains, the smell of the air, the taste of zacusca, the rolling r's of the Romanian language, the forlorn whistle of the coal train that lumbers through town each night, the peasant women in head scarves shuffling slowly across the street, the cold air against my face when I sleep at night, the clip-clop of horse-hooves, the laughter of my friends.

I was reading my Myers-Briggs profile the other day, and apparently, ENFPs see the world in very symbolic terms. And I can vouch that my typology is accurate, because I tend to view all moments as "pregnant with meaning" in the words of Henri Nouwen. I'm not sure how exactly I ended up in Romania, how I met the people I did and experienced the things I experienced. That is up to God to know and to orchestrate. But I can say that there is purpose and meaning behind all these things, though I can't necessarily specify them. Maybe it's just enough to know that these things are meaningful, these friendships, these conversations, these challenges, these steps on once-foreign sidewalks -- that these things have purpose and meaning and fit into some greater, unimaginable whole. Maybe we don't need to toil over what these meanings are but just let the experiences speak for themselves. If we let them, they do speak quite loudly.

I am excited about going home, though overwhelmed by the many more transitions and responsibilities that await me. Graduation. Summer plans. Future jobs. Where to live. What to do. Saying good bye to friends. Lots of open-endedness, lots of loose ends. But, like countless times before, I can only assume that things will sort themselves out and that no amount of my bood, sweat, and tears are going to radically alter the course of my life. I just need to be faithful with the small decisions and be faithful to what I know, however limited. And then, all will be fine.

I return to the States on Good Friday in the afternoon. I hope to be back up at Gordon on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. Then I'll be there until graduation. This summer is still a mystery, though I'm hoping to spend some time in Portland, Oregon, with my sister and her boyfriend. Then, after that...Virginia? Massachusetts? Oregon? Romania? Time will tell.
I want to thank all of you for your support and encouragement and friendship that I have felt this many miles away during my time here in Romania. These experiences would mean nothing to me if I didn't have people to share them with, so I am glad to know that you all are there receiving these written processings.

You all are great! Much peace...pace mult.
Heather

March 2006

2008-01-11T13:19:00.000-05:00

Beginning Orthodox Lent

On Sunday, we had a feast-before-the-fast (a Shrove Sunday, if you will) at Diana and Cornel's place. I baked and baked most of Saturday and brought over some banana bread, a pan of brownies with frosting, and a spinach quiche. I've been cooking and baking like a maniac since I've been here and have really enjoyed it. Perhaps the most amazing part is that we don't have any measuring cups or spoons, and our gas oven's settings are simply "big flame", "little flame." So, when a recipe calls for two cups flour, I take a wild guess. And when it calls for 300 degrees, I opt for the "little flame." Most things turn out quite swimmingly. I've always been under the impression that recipes are mere guidelines, much to my mother's chagrin. After we stuffed ourselves exorbitantly, we played Uno which, with Romanians, is much more exciting and rowdy than with Americans. And I won't even go into the insanity that followed when we played Dutch Blitz. We thoroughly exhausted ourselves playing cards, so we watch The Pianist, which was quite sobering, and drank boiled wine.

Living without Running Water

Bethany and I finally connected with a plumber who came and fixed our bathroom leak yesterday. Of course, when I went to turn on the shower this morning, the water in our building was off (happens once or twice a week) and I could only laugh at the irony of it all. You don't realize how dependent you are on running water until you have none -- you can't brush your teeth, wash your clothes, make a cup of tea, take a shower, wash your face, etc. What a valuable resource! And yet so many in the Two-Thirds world live tens of kilometers from clean water sources. It's really something you don't think about in the States. Every time I travel and return home, I always have to adjust to drinking water straight from the tap. We have the cleanest drinking water in the world! During your next shower or when you drink your next glass of water, say a little prayer of thanks...and consider turning the water off while you brush your teeth.

Springbreak in Budapest

B and I returned from our Spring break adventures last Sunday morning at 5am. Unlike the way to Budapest, our train ride on the way back was nice and cool (we could actually open our window) and there were no old, drunken men trying to get into our cabin, which was a nice change. I really enjoyed Budapest, especially because I was able to experience it with my two good friends. We enjoyed many a cappuccino, walked a LOT, saw some sweet museums, learned a little more about the Balkan wars and communism, relied heavy on the recommendations of travel writer Rick Steves (we swear by him), learned a smidgen of Hungarian, soaked in some thermal baths with the locals, saw a French opera in Hungarian subtitles for very cheap, enjoyed good Hungarian beer, got overcharged for some chicken paprikash, successfully avoided bird flu-ridden pigeons, had some killer Indian food, and made quite the home of our two hostels where we stayed. All in all, good times.

I really am thankful for having more than one perspective of Eastern Europe. Clearly, communism in Hungary looked different than the communism of Romania. Both were destructive, of course, but you only have to ride on a Budapest metro or walk the Budapest streets to feel the obvious difference. Romania is soooooo far behind other former Soviet bloc nations that it’s not even funny. Maybe that’s because after their revolution, they voted in another communist politician! And again and again…. It’s hard to transition out of oppression when the oppression rules the state. Fortunately, and this is very new, the powers that be are being held responsible for the massive amounts of money they’ve “magically” acquired over the years, specifically Nastasu, the former prime minister, who recently resigned. We think he may be a billionaire.

Overcoming My Fear of Skiing

Well, when you think ‘mountain retreat,’ you think of adjectives like ‘quite,’ ‘restful,’ ‘slow-paced.’ Welp, not so for Straja. I’ll say this over and over again – that place is crazy. You get to the top and there are mounds of people, all wearing neon-colored full-body snow suits straight from the 80s, skiing and snowboarding in all directions, with stray dogs running this way and that. And the cabana where we stayed was equally as crazy, filled with ski bums and loud partiers. Our room was actually directly next to the disco….and I mean that quite literally. The walls were literally shaking until 2 in the morning. AND, the water was off for two days, so that meant no showers and much odor….to put it nicely.

Anyway, I finally tried my hand at skiing and actually did okay! It must be like riding a bike…once you learn, it’s hard to forget. I went down the easy slope a few times until the electricity went off (haha! Romania! No water or electricity at a ski resort) and the lift stopped working. So, I just put my skiis on my shoulders and trudged up the mountain side, bit by bit. This was hard after a while and by mid-afternoon, I called it a day. But, I am proud to say that I never fell…not once. We went sledding later on and I fell a lot, and acquired some pretty nasty (identical) bruises on the back of my calves. Honestly, sledding has to be far more dangerous than skiing. The only way you can stop is completely uncivilized – throwing yourself off the sled and hoping that you’ll land into a pile of snow and eventually stop before rolling off the edge of some great Romanian precipice. It’s an adrenaline rush, for sure.

Evangelicals and Orthodox in Romania

One of my (and Dana’s) many criticisms of Evangelical missions organizations that come to Romania is their refusal to work with the Orthodox Church. In fact, many of these mission organizations have outright hostility toward the Church, and have made it their goal to convert the “pagan Orthodox” to their understanding of Christianity. This disturbs me. And this is why I am blessed and encouraged to be a part of New Horizons, an NGO that partners with the Orthodox Church to do the good work God has for us – creating loving communities, instilling values of faith and trust and compassion in individuals, and spreading the gospel of shalom. Grant it, there are those priests (and aspects of the OC) that are rigid and intolerable. But the priests I’ve met and the theology I’ve read have really blown my previous perceptions out of the water. I think the American Evangelical Church has much to learn from the OC in terms of the sociability of the Trinity, the organic connection between the Gospel and social justice, and ecumenicalism. It’s time to stop being fearful of icons, everyone!

February 2006

2008-01-11T13:11:00.000-05:00

Western Development vs the Orthodox Church

I am really glad that we read Erich Fromm's Escape from Freedom before I came here. So many Western development agencies assume that democracy and 'freedom' are basic human desires. But, according to Fromm and real world examples (Iraq, Romania), humans flea from responsibility, from the chaos of 'people ruled' government. That's what I really appreciate about this organization -- NH doesn't assume that values needed for democracy are intrinsic in the Romanian people. Communism pretty much destroyed Romania's moral education and social capital is non-existent. So, through service learning projects and basic moral and ethical teachings (love your neighbor as yourself, respect one another, work together, don't steal, cheat, lie), NH is attempting to get kids off their ass and do something about their situation! And that's hard, exciting work.

Of course, all of this is making me think a lot about the way Romanians view the Self (before, during, and after Communism). It seems that the only thing that really gives anyone any sense of purpose here is cheating their way out of responsibility, doing as little work as possible, and drinking a lot. It's almost a cultural pathology...which I guess is controversial to say. But yet, the Orthodox Church has remained one of the only social institutions that Romanians trust. They are a highly religious people....so it would seem that the Church could be harnessed to provide a moral education for its parishioners. However, the Church hasn't played a prophetic role in society for a long, long time. I find the Orthodox Church fascinating nonetheless and really think that their theology (human containing potential for good rather than human as depraved animal) can be used to bring about change!

Visiting an Orphanage

Many of you probably associate the word 'orphan' or 'street child' with Romania because of the media coverage of the early 90s. State-run orphanages at that point were hell holes, institutions holding far too many kids with too few resources. Many of the children were confined to dark, dirty basements for most of the year with no sunlight and meager food. Most had major vitamin deficiencies. Plenty of reform has happened since then and many state-run institutions have turned private. The one we visited is run by a Baptist church and held 20 children under the supervision of 4 or so adults. The place was clean and safe and the children seemed happy and well-fed. You could tell, of course, that these children had had their share of difficulties in their lives. Many of them were underweight for their ages. Two of the smallest children (I guessed 4 and 5) were actually 8 and 9. I was shocked. Many of them were Roma (Gypsy) children who automatically face greater challenges in their lives just for being Roma. We played games with the kids for a while and brought them oranges and held their hands. Those who've been so deprived of touch, of basic human affection, want nothing more than to interact physically with those willing. These kids were itching to touch and be touched, even by a stranger. How vulnerable they are to exploitation! How open they are to human love and compassion!

Communicating Cross-culturally

Tomorrow I am helping lead a required seminar for all staff called "Leveraging Traditions," attempting to integrate Orthodox theology with development work. My presentation is on the Capabilities Approach (Martha Nussbaum) and I've already had trouble with translation (there is no word for 'capability' in Romania...so we used 'capacity'). Much time here is spent tossing a single idea back and forth until both parties (Romanian and American) understand -- that's why it takes longer to accomplish anything here. And, inevitably, stuff gets lost in the translation. But, I've actually really enjoyed some of the conversations I've with folks like Cornel -- he really helps me to take my ideas out of the clouds and make them accessible to those who literally don't speak my language. And, in the end, you realize that all the high-and-mighty vocabulary, all the literary allusions, all the witty alliteration may only serve to barricade a potentially weak, ill-formed idea. A strong idea really is one that can speak for itself.

Hyper-individualism vs Hyper-collectivism

The importance of being true to one's self is all the more evident now that I'm in Romania. After 40 years of deception, corruption, and denigration of the individual (the self), people have lost sight of who they are and who they could be! You said quite poignantly, "it is criminal what happens to human beings when hope is rendered meaningless." How about when the self is rendered meaningless? How can you be true to what you've been told does not exist? Or, what at least has no value? Perhaps quite similarly, American Christians, having been raised in a nation where the individual is worshipped, don't know how to be faithful to their true selves because they've been so blinded by the facade of individuality that America (the West) feeds them. How can you be true to yourself when you are alienated from context, history, society, others? How can you be true to an over-exalted self? An island among islands?

Save the Children - HIV Positive Youth

Bethany, and I visited Save the Children in Petrile yesterday and had a good visit. They've had an HIV-AIDS integration group running for about two years, thanks to a grant from the States, which works with infected youth to help them integrate into the local communities. There is a lot of stigma here against HIV-positive kids, as there is anywhere. Perhaps the most tragic thing is that these kids were infected passively, not by drug use or sexual activity, but by corrupt medical practices -- doctors and nurses who performed blood transfusions with dirty blood and dirty needles.

I've written about this before, but it still plagues me. I asked the woman who ran the group if there had been any reparations from the hospitals for their malpractice and, in a very Romanian way, she responded with "No, not really." It's a very 'hasta este' attitude -- it is what it is. She said that this program was established to respond to the problem, not necessarily to seek justice. Of course, you can imagine the look on my face when I heard that. In the US, those hospitals would have suffered from serious malpractice suites, those doctors and nurses would be out of jobs, and those kids would be receiving medical attention (potentially). But here, life goes on. People fuck over other people and that's how the story goes. Where's the justice here? the restitution? These kids were given death sentences before they could even walk, ...and most won't live past 18 (their cases are very advanced), all because of corrupt medical practices. [Very often, people have to pay medical professionals bribes to receive good care, otherwise they come out worse than they came in and are then more desperate to receive care than before. Sick, I know.] Anyway, this is just a drop in the sea of injustices that have occurred in this country over its long, sad history. Imagine injustice after injustice going unpunished year after year and what that will do to your psyche. Fatalism is the best defense, presumably.

January 2006

2008-01-11T12:53:00.000-05:00

Getting the Lay of the Land

To give you the lay of the land, I'll describe the town of Lupeni where we reside. Imagine tall smoke stacks (occasionally spewing black smoke from the coal mines) and communist block apartments, 10 or so stories high. Lupeni itself is only one or two square miles....but there are 30,000 citizens here, all stacked on top of one another. There are lots of wild dogs roaming the streets and when I was looking out our window today at the 'park' below, I saw a big, black hog chilling in the grass. Hilarity. The mountains that surround us help to redeem the ugliness of Lupeni. They are snow-capped and gigantic, and at night you can see the lights of the ski resort on one of the peaks. There are good things about Lupeni -- the 'bread box' outside our apartment door (a one-room shack of sorts that sells some AMAZING bread), the Pizza Planet, the open air market which sells vegetables, and the chairlift that goes up the mountain to the ski resort...and our sweet apartment.

An Introduction to Corruption

We had a good introduction to corruption last night when we attempted to attend an IMPACT meeting at one of New Horizon's buildings (recently remodeled....it was a big investment on their part). Bethany and I and the kids show up and notice smoke billowing from the roof, and we can see the yellow and orange tinge of fire. One of the kids turned to us and very matter of factly said, "It looks as if the roof is on fire." Bethany and I being American are thinking ...."What can we do? How can we help?"....but in a place where fatalism rules and power is in the hands of the few and corrupt, these things happen and the best way to cope is apathy. Fortunately, some of the leaders and staff members showed up and called the fire department, but the trucks didn't come for almost 30 minutes (they originally thought our call was a joke). When the first truck came, the firemen rolled out slowly, half-dressed in their uniforms, and looked at their hoses like they had never seen them before. One of the kids said to us, "It's just like on TV but in slow motion." and we all got a big laugh. Dana turns to the crowd after the fire had died down (it was localized, fortunately) and said, "This is why we are fighting corruption. This is what happens." Apparently, when the coal fire was lit to heat the building, someone had overcompensated for the previous night when the building was freezing, and the intensity of the heat had melted the tubing around the stove. We found out later that the tubing was actually made of plastic. No one in their right mind would put plastic in the heating system unless they were pulling a scam. And there's one for ya! This is Romania....this is the type of corruption New Horizons is attempting to address.

Ceausescu

These days, we have a hard time distinguishing between what is real and what isn't....real or fake tree, real or fake hair color, real or fake breasts, real or fake apple. In many ways, it's the faux that's become the ideal: the wax fruit free of any mark or the freckle-less, cellulite-less, hairless models in magazines. What is real has become secondary to what is not real. And we wonder why we are depressed, angry, shooting our classmates in high school (video games: line between real and imaginary?). Communism was all about facades. Everything had the appearance of wealth and modernism, but most things were actually decaying inside, like a gutted building with painted shutters. In fact, whenever Ceausescu came into town, people would paint the leaves on the trees green. It was a facade. And Ceausescu exported all Romanian fruits and vegetables to other countries to make it apear like Romania was doing great financially, when in actuality, 90% of its citizens were starving. It was a facade of development and still is in many ways. That's why the post-communist world fools you. Africa doesn't fool you....development there is a new thing (gas stations, sky scrapers, all new). But here, some semblence of infrastructure has remained, but things run inefficiently, shops close at random hours, people are freezing inside their apartments because gas is being rerouted to the mayor's home, roads are left riddled with potholes winter after icy winter and left in disrepair for years.

Romania, la mults ani!

2008-01-11T12:13:00.000-05:00

One of these days, I'm going to relinquish my Gordon email address for something more up-to-date. This will be a symbolic move for me, of course, as everything in my life tends to hold some sort of meaning or significance, no matter how seemingly mundane. But in the mean time, I continue to battle Exchange on a monthly basis as I receive emails about having too many messages in my box -- and then I spend an hour or so painstakingly perusing my old emails, saved and sent, deciding which are worthy of taking up precious megabites and which can be deleted for eternity.

Sounds strange, but this is a difficult task for me. Many of my emails of yore are written more like essays than simple correspondence. In them, I have pieced together my thoughts and feelings regarding my current state of being into a coherent whole. Not only that, these emails, filled with my philosophical-sociological-theological discoveries about the world, represent an exchange of ideas between people I care about. These interchanges are meaningful precisely because they involve other minds, other experiences. Like journal entries, my old emails are written snapshots of my past thought-life and my past relationships. Parting with them feels like parting with memories.

All that being said, I received one such threatening message about my mailbox size exceeding the maximum limit, and as I was reading through my 700-something sent messages, I found several mass emails I sent to friends while I was in Romania. I really have enjoyed reading these again, because they served to illuminate just how much I was changed by my experience in Romania, even if I was there only a mere quarter of a year. My time in Romania was so rich and I encountered such astounding people doing astounding things in such a painful, beautiful place. I would argue that my first steps towards considering seminary education started because of my friendship with Dana Bates. He really taught me what it meant to be a thoughtful, passionate Christian and how a good, solid, informed theology can really translate into practicing the Gospel. Dana made me realize that the world of ideas and the world of action can and should intersect.

In fact, just two years ago on (or around) this day, Bethany Jones-turned-Arnold and I were boarding a plane at the Philadelphia Airport, bound for Romania via Frankfurt. When we arrived, there were banners on most buildings that read, "La Mults Ani," or "Happy New Year" in Romania. We lived out the first few days of 2006 in Lupeni, Romania, of all places. Remarkable to think about.

For posterity's sake, I've decided to publish a few of the emails I sent while I was in Romania because I think they are worthwhile to read and remember. The next few posts will be excerpts from such emails.

Duke!

2008-01-09T11:23:00.000-05:00

I got a call from the Duke Divinity Admissions about a month ago with the news that I've been accepted into DD's MDiv program for next year. This is exciting! I was reading an old post I made in August of 2006 when I first decided I wanted to go to seminary. Looks like I've had about 16 months to mull it over and my desire to be in school next year has not waned.

I told Terrence yesterday that, in all likelihood, I will be ending my time in l'Arche sometime at the end of May. I have high hopes for the summer months - visiting friends around the US and Dave (wherever he may be), going on a trip with my dad, relaxing.

Now, I hope to strike that delicate balance between planning for the future (Where am I going to live? How am I going to pay?) and remaining rooted in the present by really living my last months here well. We'll see how it goes.

Go Blue Devils!
Long live l'Arche.

Jelly beans: the good, the bad, the ugly

2008-01-02T15:13:00.000-05:00

I thought I would start at this new year, 2008, with a brief posting regarding jelly beans. This Christmas I was given a box of "Jelly Belly's 40 Individual Flavors" which I've enjoyed immensely. The best part of this is the recipes -- 2 Blueberry and 1 Buttered Popcorn = blueberry muffin; two Green Apple and 1 Cinnamon = candy apple; 2 Strawberry Jam and 2 French Vanilla = strawberry shortcake. Yum. Here is a list of some of the good, the particularly bad, and the just plain nasty:

Delish -- Plum, Crushed Pineapple, Red Apple, Peach, Watermelon, Kiwi, Strawberry Jam, Tangerine, Lemon Lime,
Not so much -- Juicy Pear, Cocunut, Top Banana, Margarita, Strawberry Cheesecake
Yuck -- Sizzling Cinnamon, Toasted Marshmellow, Buttered Popcorn, Licorice, Jalapeno, Caramel Corn, Chocolate Pudding, and Pina Colada.
Soda, anyone? -- Dr Pepper, A&W Cream Soda, A&W Rootbeer
New flavors that aren't in my box -- Apricot, Baked Bean (gross), Buttered Toast, Cinnamon Toast, and Roasted Garlic (so, so nasty)
Flavors I wish existed -- Sangria, Pumpkin Pie, Chocolate-covered Strawberry, Glazed Donut, Lychee, Passion Fruit, Pancake w/ Syrup, Chocolate Chip Cookie, Cranberry Sauce

This is what my box looks like:

Here's some interesting historical trivia from the Jelly Belly website:
"Jelly Belly became the favorite candy of President Ronald Reagan, who made the beans a staple in the Oval Office and on Air Force One. (President Reagan's passion for jelly beans inspired Blueberry flavor, which was cooked up so he could serve red, white, and blue beans at his inaugural parties.) Diplomats and world leaders clamored to have Jelly Belly beans. And guess what? Jelly Belly was also the first jelly bean in outer space. Free floating, weightless Jelly Belly beans were sent on the space shuttle Challenger in 1983 as a presidential surprise for the astronauts. Coincidentally it was the same mission that boasted another bit of history -- the first American female astronaut, Sally Ride."

A portrait of Reagan made out of jelly beans:

Also, on the website, you can buy 10lbs of your favorite flavor in bulk. It costs $72.00.

This is disturbing --Jelly Belly now markets "Sports Beans" which are, apparently, supposed to be benefitial. Here's what the site says: "A single pack of Sport Beans jelly beans (1 oz.) contains 25 grams of carbohydrates to fuel your body during intense exercise, and a balanced supply of electrolytes (sodium and potassium) vital for maintaining fluid balance. In addition, Sport Beans jelly beans contain Thiamin (vitamin B1), Riboflavin (Vitamin B2), and Niacin (Vitamin B3) to help burn carbohydrates and fat, as well as Vitamin C to protect muscles and cells against oxidative damage." Um, WTF?

I've eaten so many jelly beans as I've typed this that I'm feeling a little sick. Time to stop.

Get there, Rowan...

2007-12-19T21:18:00.000-05:00

This is the Advent Letter from Rowan Williams, the AB of C, sent out to the primates of the Anglican Communion. This letter expresses some of the reasons why I have felt deeply ambivalent about the split in the Episcopal Church, and why the separation has been a source of great anguish for me. He writes, "Where one part of the family makes a decisive move that plainly implies a new understanding of Scripture that has not been received and agreed by the wider Church, it is not surprising that others find a problem in knowing how far they are still speaking the same language. And because what one local church says is naturally taken as representative of what others might say, we have the painful situation of some communities being associated with views and actions which they deplore or which they simply have not considered."

I respect Rowan for not allowing his personal beliefs to dictate his advice and recommendations to the larger Church. He is clearly dedicated to maintaining unity and civility in the midst of this theological Cold War. And there is a recognition that individual belief is not worth the sacrifice of Church history and tradition, not to mention the integrity of the Scriptures. This is coupled with the understanding that Scripture is interpreted through the lense of a community which is guided by the Holy Spirit.

He writes in his letter, "Our obedience to the call of Christ the Word Incarnate is drawn out first and foremost by our listening to the Bible and conforming our lives to what God both offers and requires of us through the words and narratives of the Bible. We recognise each other in one fellowship when we see one another 'standing under' the word of Scripture. Because of this recognition, we are able to consult and reflect together on the interpretation of Scripture and to learn in that process. Understanding the Bible is not a private process or something to be undertaken in isolation by one part of the family. Radical change in the way we read cannot be determined by one group or tradition alone."

Sigh...what a mess. They were dealing with this stuff right from the beginning of the Church, I know. And the Church is still standing, some 2,000 years later. But it doesn't make it any less painful. Below is a short statement I wrote for my Duke Divinity application aptly named, "Regarding Denominational Affiliation."

Four years after the consecration of Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire, the first openly gay bishop ordained in the Episcopal Church, my home parish (Truro Church of Fairfax, Virginia) chose to severe its ties with the Diocese of Virginia and the ECUSA, associating instead with the Diocese of Nigeria and the larger worldwide Anglican Communion. As a born-and-bred Episcopalian, this schism has been very painful for me, as it has been for many people in the Episcopal Church. I feel much like the child of divorced parents, forced to pick from two sides that are mutually hostile.

I am having difficulty at this point in my life associating myself exclusively with either the Episcopal Church or the Anglican Communion. I fall most comfortably into a third camp politically and theologically, but the recent ecclesial fracture has not provided a space for those existing outside of liberal-conservative spectrum. I have identified myself as an Episcopalian in this application, but I feel it important to identify my ambiguous feelings regarding the present state of my denomination, especially as it may apply to my future direction towards ministry, ordained or lay.

A little revamping...

2007-12-02T20:18:00.000-05:00

Spent some sabbath time today revamping the blog a little bit. Let me know if 1) you would like me to add your blog address or 2) have any interesting links (funny, thoughtful, whatever!) you want to pass along.

Happy Advent.

Wisdom from The Jean.

2007-11-29T17:42:00.000-05:00

God and universal truth are not in the sky and the stars, nor in theories, ideologies and ideals. They are hidden in actual people, in flesh, mud and matter. They are hidden in the poor and the weak who cry above all for recognition and communion. Just as some of the purest and most cleansing substances come from things that are rotten - wine and alcohol from fermented fruit, penicillin from mold - and just as the earth is nourished by animal manure, so our hearts and inner brokenness are healed through communion with all that we have rejected and are afraid of: the poor and weak, enemies, strangers. --Jean Vanier

6 months ago, 6 months from now....

2007-11-18T11:04:00.000-05:00

This is the half-way point. I have been Home Life Coordinator of the Highland House now for 6 months, and in 6 months time, I'll be finishing up here at l'Arche. Also, Dave and I just celebrated 6 months together yesterday. We decided to sign up for another 6 months. Interesting to think that two major life changes occurred around the same time. In fact, the night Dave came for dinner, May 1st, was my first day as HLC (Diane had moved out the day before).

It's wild to think about l'Arche no longer being a central part of my life. When I first start, one month after graduating from Gordon, everything felt so foreign and I felt so inadequate. In school, I was valued for my intellect, my ability to think "big thoughts," to theorize and conceptualize. Moving into l'Arche Nehalem in Portland prompted me to confront a part of my self that I had rarely, if ever, encountered. In l'Arche my theories and big thoughts, my writing skills and verbal fluency mattered little. Instead, my ability to tangibly care for others, to be patient and listen well, to enjoy the small details of life have been primary. The transition was disconcerting. Interacting with bodies was more difficult than interacting with ideas. In some ways, this still remains true for me, but I recognize now how important it is for people like myself, so easily caught up in their heads or their future plans, to be pulled down to earth.

I remember being so angry and reactionary my final year or two at Gordon, and I felt myself slipping into disillusionment and bitterness. There is a passionate anger that can drive us to do justice and love mercy, but there is also a destructive anger that burns like wildfire and can consume us if we aren't careful. Passionate anger yearns for righteousness. But the anger I was beginning to feel sought to destroy. I've seen this anger in a lot of disillusioned Gordon grads - this is the process of dying to Self. But what of rebirth? Most of us are living in limbo now, not dead but not reborn.

There are many ways we can climb out of our graves and receive new life. I think living in l'Arche, or any other community centered around the Beatitudes, helps people to be reborn. The Eucharist allows us to participate in our own death and resurrection every Sunday. Relationships, whether romantic or platonic, help us experience the newness of life. Confessing our sins and receiving forgiveness, confronting our weaknesses and accepting them, caring for others and being cared for in return are all ways in which we can be reborn.

I feel I was reborn in l'Arche -- the burn of my cynicism has no place here. I am instead called to peace, to patience, to yearn for justice and mercy, to convey great love with small actions. This does not mean that rebirth is easy or even pleasant. It calls us to let go of our certainty, our egos, to let the seed die in order for new life to take root. It sometimes calls for humiliation and always calls for surrender.

If all goes according to plan, I will be at Duke Divinity School in Durham next year. I can only imagine, of course, how different my perspective of school, and the Academy, will be when I return. Will I feel alienated? Invigorated? Will my time in the classroom feel irrelevant or life-giving? Will l'Arche be a distant memory or a vivid recollection? Will I enjoy my new-found freedom or feel smothered by it? I am interested to discover how my time in l'Arche and impending time in the Academy can coexist, maybe even reconciled.

Alternative Christmas gifts...

2007-11-14T14:38:00.000-05:00

Thought I would compile a list of some alternative/charitable/equitable gift ideas for the Christmas/Hanukkah season. Enjoy.

Church of St John the Baptist in Cairo - food packages and immunizations for refugees, literacy classes, etc.
Art Enables - paintings and prints by disabled artists, including the works of Sonny, Mo, Mike and Eileen, 4 core members in the l'Arche DC community.
Heartbeats - handcrafted items (jewelry, soaps) and fair trade products from minority and developing world women artists
Koinonia Farm - baked goods, chocolate, pecans, books, and fair trade coffee and tea
World Vision - farm animals, water pumps, fruit trees, malaria medications, and more!
Ten Thousand Villages - program of Mennonite Central Committee, one of the oldest and largest fair trade organizations in the world, selling fairly trades items from diverse cultures
Angel Tree - give gifts to children of incarcerated parents
Heifer Project - flock of ducks, trio of rabbits, trees, goats, cows
L'Arche Noah Sealth of Seattle - cards, candles made by community members
Putumayo World Music - international music label that contributes to non-profits in countries where music originates
Mercy Corps - family garden kits, child health kits, women's small business kits, etc.
Global Exchange - fairly traded crafts from around the world, fair trade action kits and holiday gift baskets, books and cds
Oxfam America - school desks, can of worms, spinning wheels, sheep, mosquito nets, and crocodiles!

December 20th, 2004...

2007-11-14T13:57:00.001-05:00

I really enjoy reading old journal entries; doing so helps me remember where I was, what I was thinking, what I was struggling with at various times in my life. And very often, I find that my Past Self has much to say to my Present Self, insights that I've neglected to remember as time has passed. This isn't to say that my Past Self hasn't been terribly and utterly misinformed, which can make encounters with my past journal entries somewhat painful or embarrassing. But, all in all, I find the practice of reflection and remembering worthwhile.

This is part of an entry I posted in my old Live Journal blog many moons ago - December 20th, 2004. To give context, I was a junior at Gordon, back at school after a semester in Uganda, and the US/Iraq war had been raging for about a year and a half. Spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually, this was a particularly tumultuous time in my life....

"i'm sick and tired of christians, on another note. or at least christians conformed to the pattern of this world (pro-war, pro-consumerism, pro-republican). i'm pretty much done with identifying myself as an evangelical. for a while, i thought such a statement would land me in hell. and then i realized that was exactly my problem with the evangelical church. sigh...we are so finite....we are merely specks on the shore. how can we even fathom the wholeness of truth, let alone claim to hae exclusive access to it? i know that Jesus is the clue to all of history, all of eternity...but i know so little about him. i could tell you more about paul than jesus, the incarnate God. so many things he says shake me up...and yet i do nothing. we sit in church and here the word read in such a ritualized way (not that im not in love with the liturgy) and yet we remain like lumps of puddings in the pews. the word is supposed to chew us up and spit us out into new beings. every time Jesus speaks about money and violence and hate...i should feel utter conviction. but i dont. i legitimize, reprioritize, deny, ignore, turn away. i feel perfectly fine about buying 'christian' tshirts made by cambodian children chained to their sewing machines. i feel perfectly fine about buying christian cds from corporate monsters. i enjoy riding in my SUV the guzzles gas and raises the prizes on oil so that we are more dependent on other nations and thus feel the need to make up lies, invade, and capitalize all in the name of "freedom" and "liberty" that was never under threat in this nation in the first place. obviously, i'm being facetious. i dont wear 'christian' tshirts (cite derek webb) and i dont listen to 'christian' music and i definitely dont own an suv. but, i identify myself with a white, suburban, protestant, heterosexual subculture that does and i am by no means exempt. we are individuals, yes, but little do we in america like to realize that God holds us up to a communal judgment; that, as the Church, we are responsible for what members of the Body do, and that includes consumption and choosing violence over resolute peace. yikes. this is some heavy stuff. and this has been my entire semester. when they showed Fahrenheit 9-11 at school, steve and i just bawled. and when W won the election, my roommate couldnt stop crying. honestly, i would have cried no matter who won....because with the state of this nation and the state of this world, we should all be on our knees mourning. 60 people died to day in Iraq in a car bombing. i dont care whether they were americans or iraqis...it's time we stop measuring the "success" of war based on how few of 'our boys' have been killed. God calls us to mourn the death of any human life, whether in the womb or in a terrorist attack or whether on the enemy front. man...thats so hard. but, life is so complex....so much more than we want to make it out to be. i guess it means we can never be comfortable with easy answers!!"

It's hard to be black in DC.....

2007-10-24T12:35:00.001-04:00

From the Washington Post:

Median house-hold income in the District, 1980:
White people: $55,000.00
Black people: $34,700.00
Hispanics: $32,000.00

Median house-hold income in the District, 2006:
White people: $92,000.00
Black people: $34,500.00
Hispanis: $44,000.00

That's a $37,000 increase for white folk and $200 decrease for black folk. A $12,000 increase for Hispanics. If you are a black DC resident, you likely make $57,100 less than a white DC resident.

Anthropology, l'Arche and consumer culture...

2007-10-09T15:50:00.000-04:00

The intersection of religion and economy has interested me for quite some time, from my days as a devoted patron of the Family Christian Bookstores, to Mrs. Suddeth's 9th grade English class when we learned the manipulative methods of media advertising, to my love affair with Max Weber my junior year of college, to my final Sociology thesis, titled, "Religion as Commodity: Capitalism and the Transformation of the Religious Life." [If given the chance, I would rename it, "Consumer Culture and the Transformation of the Religious Life"; my War Against Capitalism that I waged my later years of college stalemated when I went to post-Communist Romania and saw the desperate need for small-business enterprises in the severally depressed Jui Valley. That's another conversation.]

Another interesting intersection is that of anthropology (the study of the human person) and religion. What does the Judeo-Christian story say about being human? What does Jesus' humanity say about our own humanity? What about the disabled, the "feeble-minded", those broken in body? Last year, the North American Zone of l'Arche held a big anthropology conference where assistants, leaders, core members, and scholars (sociologists, theologians, anthropologists) gathered together to discuss the "Anthropology of Becoming Human." The overall question at this conference was, "What am I discovering and learning from my experience in community in l'Arche about what it means to be human and about what it means to grow towards becoming human?" This is what they came up with:

*Human beings have a profound desire and drive not just to survive but to thrive, to have life in abundance.
*We thrive, not by accumulating more or by creating complexity, but by learning to enter into life's simple moments.
*You cannot thrive as a human being without finding a way to accept human weakness, your own and others.
*We cannot expect people to accept weakness outside the context of a community capable of embracing them in their weakness.

In a nutshell, becoming fully human involves mutuality of relationships, acceptance of our fragility and the fragility of others, and recognition of each human being as uniquely gifted and uniquely limited. This happens in community. L'Arche is one of these. So are family, marriage, friendship, the Church, our churches. In these places, we can experience the life fully human, as God intends.

Now, when we think about the intersection of anthropology and the Market, all hell breaks lose, for the anthropology of l'Arche (and I would argue the Judeo-Christian narrative as a whole) is so at odds with the anthropology dictated by our consumer culture. More importantly, this consumer culture in which we are imbedded does not discriminate between the sacred and secular. All sectors of our lives are subject to mass market consumerism. It is the iron cage. It is the pandemic disease. The quicker we accept this to be true the quicker we can address how and to what degree we are affected.

What is the anthropology of consumer culture? How has the economy shaped our understanding of human beings? Along with religious and philosophical expression, the human person becomes herself a commodity, an object to be bought and sold, as a means to an end rather than end in and of herself. She is valued solely for her appearance and status, he for his ability to produce or compete, they for their ability to consume and be consumed. The market, rather than the person, becomes the mechanism for dictating and transmitting beliefs and behaviors. What is most profitable and cost-effective becomes paramount, rather than what is most desirable for the human person. The anthropology of consumer culture overemphasizes autonomy and individualism (to the point of utilitarianism, life boat ethics, etc) and deemphasizes the common good. Within consumer culture, to be human is to be fundamentally inadequate. Wholeness can only be achieved through the consumption of goods (this car, this cell phone, this perfume, this beer, this plane ticket). Media advertising is saturated with this message. In fact, we're all pretty much drowning in it.

The anthropology of our market culture is diametrically opposed to the anthropology of l'Arche, as lived and taught by Jesus. Where one values humans beings solely and entirely for their humanity, the other values only those persons who can consume (those with capital) or produce (those young enough, smart enough, and healthy enough to hold down jobs). It is no wonder why the poorest of the poor in our nation are below the age of 18 and above the age of 65, disabled, whether socially (as with non-English speaking immigrants, widows, etc) or physically (as with genetic maladies, substance addictions, or wounded veterans) and intellectually (as with the mentally retarded, those deprived of education resources or access, etc), and those who've been historically marginalized (as with people of color, women, those with alternative sexual orientations, etc).

Consumer culture tells us that we aren't good enough, strong enough, safe enough, happy enough, sexy enough, holy enough lest we consume. In fact, the term used for the developmentally disabled in most MRDDA sectors (day programs, residential homes, etc) is 'consumers.' Their consumption of the services provided by the State or County merits their worth - they are consumers of care and assistance. How many of us consider ourselves "consumers" of our parents' care, our spouses' love, our friends' companionship? My relationship with my friends and family is not one based on economic reciprocity or service provision but of mutual love and respect. The developmentally disabled (along with other vulnerable populations) often do not have the luxury of these relationships. They will live most of their lives with no choice but to consume their relationships; "professionals" such as counselors in group homes, case managers, staff members at work, respite workers are all paid to be present - generally, these professionals make up 99% of the DD person's social world.

To value the lives and stories of the developmentally disabled, to accept each individual as they uniquely are, to provide a place for people regardless of race, sex, creed, and ability to enter into relationship with one another is indeed prophetic in the society in which we live. Through its mere humble existence in this self and stuff-obsessed culture, l’Arche (like any other prophetic sign) is waging war against the mendacity that is consumer-dependent human worth. When society tells us to buy more, l’Arche tells us to live more simply. When society tells us we are worthless, l’Arche tells us we are created and loved by God. When society tells us we must be strong, l’Arche tells us we are fragile and in need of friendship. When society tells us we are only as special as the things we consume, l’Arche tells us we are each uniquely gifted. L’Arche here is, essentially, doing the work of the Church, the work of Jesus. L’Arche is no solution, but it is a sign, a way to live out the Kingdom which is here on Earth.

There are countless other acts of Christian resistance to the Empire of Consumer Culture occurring all around us - a family adopting a special needs child, the parish advocating for the rights of rural farm workers, the college students teaching ESL to recent immigrants, the woman caring for her elderly neighbor, the doctor providing free services to low-income families, the businesswoman who builds homes for Habitat Humanity on her weekends, the pastor who visits inmates in the local correctional facility, the youth group members who befriend some homeless men downtown. These acts are counter-cultural in that they illuminate the value of human life beyond what that human life can consume or produce. These acts signify our interrelatedness, the connectedness that we share with one another because of our common humanity. Through our relationships with one another, we are made whole - more fully human. This is the anthropology of the Church.

I wrote a paper last year entitled, “You in Me and I in You: The Role of Community in the Formation of the Authentic Self.” The last few paragraphs tend to sum up well what I think a good anthropology looks like for us as Christians and as human beings. ---

“When I speak of the Self in “relationship” or “community” with others, I do so theoretically: one human being interacting with another, and as a result, both being made whole, giving and receiving mutually. But in actuality, as most of us can attest, being in relationship is rarely this simple. In fact, to extend one’s self to another can be terribly painful. The child must leave home. The student must graduate. The grandparent must pass away. Those whom we love will wound us, and we will wound them in return, however intentionally or unintentionally. Our hearts bear the scars of failed friendships, broken marriages, and wrecked families.

"The Genesis creation myth -- a story of shattered relationships-- has shaped our understanding of each other and the world for thousands of years. The story begins with God bringing forth all of Creation, Earth and Sky, Land and Water, Flora and Fauna. In the Garden of Eden, He creates Adam from the mud of the earth, and seeing that it was not good for man to be alone, He creates Eve from Adam’s rib. In this way, Adam, Eve, and the Earth are made from the same substance and, therefore, share a common unity. This knowledge of interrelatedness allows for Adam and Eve to live in harmony with Creation and their Creator. But through an act of disobedience, this harmony is broken. Humanity becomes estranged from the earth, from each other, and from God the Creator. Adam, Eve, and all of their descendents, are destined to live out the rest of their days attempting to recover the unity they had once experienced in the Garden, when God, Man, and Earth were joined together, interdependent and intimately related.

"Our post-Edenic world is no longer characterized by common unity but by division. Ethnic genocide, misogyny, classism, terrorism, racism, jihad, nuclear proliferation, environmental degradation, are all signs of Creation warring against itself. We have lost the ability to recognize our essential oneness and, instead, have become fixated on that which makes us different from one another. We are strangers, seduced by sectarianism and individualism. And yet, we carry with us the sneaking suspicion that we are somehow not strangers. Some distant, hazy memory we share tells us that, perhaps, we may have been friends in some other time or place.

"As human beings, we are creatures of memory. We carry with us the stories of our past victories and failures, of our union and divorce. Like the Genesis myth, our memory informs us of that which once was, but no longer is. It provides us with a sense of loss, of dissatisfaction with the present reality. But we as human beings are also creatures of hope, capable of envisioning a world far greater than our own. Even as we hurt one another, we seek one another's company. Even with the anguish of miscarriage still fresh, we risk pregnancy again. Even as countless marriages fail around us, we recite our solemn vows. We enter into relationship with one another both tentatively, our memories guiding us, and willingly, our hope enabling us to write a different story.

"What is this story but one both ancient and new - the story of interrelatedness. Consider the words of Hildegarde of Bingen: “God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else” (Fox 279). God, the Creator of all, has crafted the universe as interdependent, where one creation sustains another, where the actions of one affect the well-being of another. When Jesus says, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me,” he is acknowledging this interrelatedness -- to extend yourself to the Other is to extend yourself to God. In fact, according to the teachings of Jesus, there is no Other; every person is neighbor, friend, sister and brother. The lines between Self and group are blurred. We are members of a common Humanity, fit together as pieces of a puzzle, each “members of mankind” (Merton, No Man… xxii).

"Evolutionary science no longer allows us the option to deny our relatedness to other human beings. As humans, we originate from a single common ancestor -- the evidence is stamped upon the DNA of each person on earth. Not only that, we as earthly creations -- animals, plants, and minerals -- carry within our atoms the same substances that make up the stars in heaven. This earth which we call home was one of billions of planets brought forth into being during the Big Bang, entire universes forming out of one tiny, dense particle. To talk of Human against Nature, Man against Woman, Self against Other, is to create false dichotomies between intimately related entities. We need only remember our origin to become aware of our common unity with Creation.

"To acknowledge our interdependence is to remember life in the Garden, before the lie of “separateness” seeped into our consciousness. We are, in a sense, recovering our wholeness, our authentic Selfhood, when we recognize the interdependent aspects of our existences. As Thomas Merton states, “to live in communion, in genuine dialogue with others is absolutely necessary if man is to remain human” (Merton, New Seeds…, 55). When we discover who we truly are, in all authenticity, the distinctions between “you” and “I” begin to fade. As we remember our origins, we realize that we were birthed from the same womb of humanity, and that you are actually my sister and my companion, uniquely created but intimately related to my very being. With this knowledge, you and I can authentically coexist in community as separate beings made whole through relationship. Frederick Buechner eloquently articulates this understanding of Self and community when he states:

“You begin to understand that in some way your deepest self is the self of all men -- that you are in them and they are in you. You begin to understand not as an ideal but as a reality, an experience, that their pain is your pain, their need your need; that there can really be no getting ahead at their expense, there can be no joy for you until there is joy for them.” (23)

I'm not sure how else to put this but...

2007-09-27T20:17:00.000-04:00

today, Terrence and I were on the front porch talking business, until something in the road caught his eye: running towards us was....a flock of squirrels. It was a strange, almost transcendent experience, seeing these 5 grey squirrels, 4 were babies, running towards us. I wasn't sure whether to run into the house screaming, or allow them to fashion a dress for me for the upcoming ball (that was a Cinderella reference). When the mother jumped, her babies would jump. When she waved her tail about, so would her babies. When she crawled up the tree trunk, her babies followed her, one by one, so we could see this spiral of squirrels winding up the tree. And there they stayed. I waited for them to come down and do some other awe-inspiring, synchronized act. But they stayed in the tree, where their mother scolded them for running in front of cars. I've seen ducklings paddling closely behind their mother. But never squirrels. It was truly awesome.

Interesting facts about where I live (and have lived)...

2007-09-25T21:03:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of Wikipedia...

*Due to the political and economic differences between Northern Virginia and the rest of the commonwealth, some secessionist sentiments have emerged with those persons wishing that the area could become the separate state of "North Virginia."

*Since the 2000 census, both Loudoun and Fairfax counties are the top two large Highest-income counties in the United States by median household income.

*Arlington is center of the largest Bolivian community in North America (mostly immigrants from Cochabamba).

*Originally part of the District of Columbia, the land now comprising the county was retroceded to Virginia in a July 9, 1846 act of Congress that took effect in 1847.

*Arlington was ranked as the most educated city (percentage of residents with graduate degrees) in 2006 by CNN Money.

*Arlington is the smallest self-governing county in the United States.

*Northern Virginia is also home to one of the largest African immigrant populations in America, with significant numbers of Nigerians, Ethiopians, Eritreans, Somalians, and Ghanaians.

*Northern Virginia suffers from severe road congestion. The congestion consistently ranks with Los Angeles and San Francisco, California as one of the worst three areas in the nation. Workers from these outlying counties face daily commutes that exceed well over an hour each way.

*Allen's sole wins in Northern Virginia were the cities of Manassas and Manassas Park, winning the latter two only by the razor-thin margins of 298 votes and 47 votes, respectively.

*Manassas gained notoriety in 1993 as the hometown of John and Lorena Bobbitt, even though they resided outside the city and closer to the city of Manassas Park.[1] Their separate trials (John Wayne Bobbitt's for rape, Lorena Bobbitt's for malicious wounding) occurred at the Prince William County courthouse, which is in the city of Manassas.

Aging parents and the disabled...

2007-09-25T20:57:00.000-04:00

Holy shit. In the third paragraph, it reads, "The life expectancy of a Down syndrome child in the 1930s was less than 10 years. Today, it is nearly 60." Wow. This blows my mind. FS is 46. Anyway, interesting article on developmentally disabled baby boomers and their aging parents. A major issue for a mostly invisible population.

Longer life for mentally disabled brings complications

Chicago Tribune

September 23, 2007

Josephine Grabowski did not expect, at age 86, to be pulling herself precariously out of her wheelchair to change her son's soiled bedsheets.

In fact, she did not expect her son Frankie, now 48, to be alive at all. When her son was born, Grabowski's doctor informed her that "Mongoloid" children like hers did not live past their teens.

But as medicine advanced and home care improved, thousands of developmentally disabled baby boomers like Frankie Grabowski are outliving their elderly parents for the first time. The life expectancy of a Down syndrome child in the 1930s was less than 10 years. Today, it is nearly 60.

Nationally, there are 682,000 people 60 and older with developmental disabilities, and that is expected to double to 1.3 million by 2030, according to researchers at the University of Illinois-Chicago.

"It's an incredibly bleak picture," said Charlotte Cronin, executive director of the Family Support Network of Illinois, a statewide grass-roots advocacy group. "This person with significant disabilities - all they know is mom or dad. That's all they've ever known. And they can't talk, or the information they share makes no sense" to others.

For this reason, Josephine Grabowski's biggest hope today is that she outlives her son - a hope that teetered last week as she entered a hospital, suffering a bad reaction to antibiotics she took for a bladder infection. She predicts her son will fall into deep despair if she dies before he does.

"I know no matter how good the nursing home is, they won't do for him like I do," she said in a voice congested and weak from fighting a cold. "He will die from a broken heart and loneliness."

Although the doctor recommended the Grabowskis put their son into an institution, she and her late husband, Jerome, decided they would care for him in their modest home in aChicago suburb. Now, Josephine Grabowski, with severe arthritis, congestive heart failure and painful fluid buildup in her legs, is still her son's primary caretaker.

"We are looking at a terrible financial hardship for parents," said Dr. David Braddock, Coleman-Turner chair and professor in psychiatry at the University of Colorado School of Medicine. He was the founding head of the Department of Disability and Human Development at the University of Illinois at Chicago. "It's a very daunting thing - to have to be a caretaker when you yourself might need support.

"This is a challenge that is going to grow for older caretakers in our society as our nation ages. It's going to affect virtually all developed nations in the world."

But Josephine Grabowski said she does not regret deciding to care for Frankie herself.

Their home is dotted with lacy curtains and family portraits that point to happier times, including a shot of Frankie beaming in a suit and tie after his First Communion.

In his those days, Frankie would spend hours holding a battery-powered radio to his ear, set to a station as fond of Lawrence Welk as he was. He would giggle as he chased after plastic balls in the house. On sunny days, he would sit on the front steps and wave to neighbors.

Several afternoons each week, mother and son would drive to a McDonald's for a hamburger and fries drenched in ketchup. Frankie held court in the restaurant, shaking hands with staff and customers. At the grocery store, he would try to hug and kiss the cashiers in the check-out line.

When he napped during the day, his mother would head to her garden, where she would lose herself as she pulled weeds and tended her flowers.

"I was just a housewife," she said. "I took care of my family."

In a similar spirit, Terri Coglianese, 70, has cared for her younger brother, Charles "Titos" Sanchez, 69, ever since their parents died in the early 1960s. Sanchez, too, has Down syndrome.

"We would never put him in an institution," she said, tearing up. "He's my baby."

But his care became increasingly complicated over the years, first with the loss of sight in one eye, then after he fractured his hip in December. Sanchez must now wear diapers, he was no teeth and he is terrified of getting out of bed.

Family members say he "understands everything," but his communication skills are limited. It took his loved ones a week to realize he had a fracture because Sanchez never complained about the pain. He simply refused to walk.

For now, Sanchez remains bedridden in a nursing home in Park Ridge. Coglianese, who works full-time as a human resources administrator, plans to take him home once he regains his mobility.

"You are going to walk, right Titos?" Coglianese said softly to her brother in Spanish.

"Si!" he answered brightly.

To be sure, not all adults with disabilities face the same sort of challenges Grabowski and Sanchez face. Braddock said the vast majority of people born with Down syndrome today, assuming access to treatment, service and support, experience mild to moderate cognitive disability.

"They are able to live a productive life," he said.

But Josephine Grabowski's day-to-day life offers a glimpse of how precarious care arrangements can be - even with outside medical and social service assistance. She or a part-time nursing assistant changes Frankie Grabowski's bedsheets an average of 18 times a day. Late last fall, he developed a toothache. Unable to express what was wrong, he banged his head against the wall for hours, leaving marks. His mother arranged for him to be sedated and carried to a dental clinic by ambulance. He had to have four teeth extracted.

Still, with the help of Jenny Howard, a social worker from the Adult Down Syndrome Center at Advocate Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge, Grabowski has come up with a plan for Frankie's care. She has signed the necessary paperwork so that her son will move to a nursing home when she dies.

Two years ago this August, Josephine had a heart attack as she walked to her bedroom one night from the washroom. An older son staying at her house was able to get her help, and today she describes her heart attack in almost-glowing terms.

"I felt peaceful," she said of her five-day stay at Our Lady of Resurrection Medical Center. "It felt so good, just sleeping. If this is the way it is when you die, I'm not scared. I'll catch up on 48 years of needing sleep."

This is your brain on ADD...

2007-09-15T19:57:00.000-04:00

So I found this book about ADD and relationships (primarily romantic, but can be applied to any relationship really) and have found it fascinating. It isn't incredibly academic - more anecdotal - but still quite insightful. As the daughter of an ADD-sufferer, and as someone with ADD tendencies and a definite ADD personality type (an ENFP looks eerily similar to someone with ADD), I found the book helpful in shedding light on the ways my actions affect others.

I guess no one really knows what causes ADD...it's still somewhat mysterious, as are most things involving the brain. But scientists know that Attention Deficit Disorder stems from some sort of neurological deficit in the prefrontal cortex (the part of the brain responsible for "executive functioning"). Neurotransmitters act as chemical 'bridges,' carrying information from one neuron to the next. If you have the right kind of neurotransmitter at the right time in the right place in the right amount, then everything hums along smoothly. If this is out of wack, your behavior is inevitably affected. When the electrical activity in your prefrontal cortex is sluggish (due to a lack of dopamine), you exhibit ADD behaviors.

Now, I have undiagnosed ADD (though my dad, a psychologist, has confirmed that I exhibit a lot of the behaviors; I've tried to develop some coping mechanisms), but I can relate to much of the stuff listed in this book. 1) Impulsivity, 2) Need for stimulation, 3) Forgetfulness, 4) Lack of organization, 5) Poor follow-through, 6)Difficulty staying on task, 7)Hyper-focused (related to the need for stimulation).

Need for stimulation is something I think I relate to the MOST. We tend to make fun of my dad for this. Whenever we try to have a conversation with him that's more than 3 sentences long, and he begins to zone off, we start waving our hands in front of his face to get him back in the "here and now." He needs multiple forms of stimulation to stay focused. And so do I, frankly, but this is manifested more in me biting my nails, cracking my knuckles, tapping my feet, doodling, twisting my hair around my finger, etc. These are some of my coping mechanisms...and they usually help.

The book says, "People with ADD want, crave, need, and absolutely have to have stimulation. They are drawn to new stimulation like the proverbial moth to the flame." Folks with ADD tend to be kinesthetic learners - they understand life better with it is interpreted through bodily experiences. My sister and my boyfriend are always saying this about me - I experience life through my senses. If there is something to smell or taste or hear or see or touch, I'm there. I'm a sucker for PDA (public displays of affection). I have to stop and smell the roses. I like watching butterflies and people's facial expressions and ants scurrying up a log. I feel almost drawn to touch soft, fluffy dogs or the big spines on a cactus leaf. I am fascinated by the slime molds in my backyard, the way they ooze when you poke them with a stick. I like climbing trees to pick the reddest apple. I revel in a good sunset, a yellow Autumn tree, a flock of birds. These are all the things life is about for me - things I can experience through my 5 senses.

My need for stimulation (which produces dopamine...mmmm) manifests itself in other ways, too. I read multiple books at once. I attempt three different tasks at the same time. I listen to music while doing paperwork. I knit while watching a movie. I doodle during meetings. I take a different route home. I delight in spontaneity and creativity and novelty. I am maybe one of the few who LOVE surprise parties. I love sending and receiving gifts or notes or emails "just because." I really feel fully myself when I travel abroad, as I am immersed in stimulation to the max (new food, culture, language, ahh!). And I feel fully myself when I am in deep, meaningful conversation with someone else, not necessarily discussing things I've already concluded but processing ideas, working through them, and sharing insights and experiences regarding those ideas.

Now, my need for stimulation isn't necessarily a bad thing. I definitely don't see it as such. In fact, it has allowed me to be a more creative, caring, intuitive, knowledgeable person. It only becomes problematic when 1) others do not realize this is my need or 2) this need is not reigned in. Without stimulation, I shrivel like a raisin. But with too much, I become self-indulgent and obsessive. I find that I can be hyperfocused on certain things that can cause a lot of stimulation - scrapbooking, hanging pictures up in my room, organizing my closet, reading a good book, listening to a friend, searching for something that I've lost, painting a picture, listen to a radio show I enjoy. But my hyperfocus is intermittent, and there are things that need my attention to detail but I have a really difficult time unless I find these tasks stimulating (anything involving numbers or minute details is, in my opinion, the antithesis of stimulating).

Anyway...a fascinating book. A fascinating read. I always love things that shed some light on the mystery of myself and the mysteriousness of other people.

Buechner

2007-08-06T19:58:00.000-04:00

I'd forgotten about Buechner until last week when I read some of his sermons. I love Buechner for many reasons - his eloquent writing, his perspective of faith. But what I appreciate most is his experience of and appreciation for the hard things that life offers us. He wears no rose-colored glasses. The world is a painful place and, according to Buechner, God can speak to us through that pain.

I am glad to have stumbled upon Buechner once again, because life is painful right now (for myself and for those whom I love, which is really one in the same), and reading Buechner is balm for the soul. There are those human beings who, in our moments of pain and darkness, can pull us back to the light. Frederick Buechner is one of those human beings to me.

This year has truly been one of pain and loss, occurring mostly in the last few months. My cats died. Friendships dispersed, or disappeared all together. Devon's mother passed away. A friend miscarried. Dave moved away. These are all sad, sobering things, the things life is made of. But, it has also been a year of growth, of blessings and joys. Spending good time with my parents. Melissa and Jacob's wedding. Visits from friends. Traveling to Portland and Costa Rica. Assuming new responsibilities. Being pleasantly surprised by a new relationship. Enjoying my friendships in l'Arche. Reading good books and enjoying solitude. Discovering my gifts and strengths and capacities. Experiencing forgiveness and kindness within my home. Maintaining friendships. Life consists of these things, too.

One of the many things I appreciate about l'Arche is the emphasis on reflection. We are consistently asked to reflect upon and process our experiences in l'Arche, through accompaniment, retreats, weekly times of sharing, nightly prayer, and personal time. I think that's why l'Arche works, because we are called time and time again to remember. We remember the hardships and the turmoil, and we realize that we survived them; in fact, we even realize that we are better because of them. We remember the anticipation and the excitement and anxiety of first moving in and stumbling around. We remember the week when, in crisis, everyone dropped what they were doing to support one another. We remember the spontaneous moments of excitement - dancing in the kitchen or laughing in the living room. We remember our story, where we have been and where we are now and where we are going. Memory is essential for our life together.

Buechner wrote an essay I really like called, "A Room Called Remember." Here is a passage that resonates.
"We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.
"To remember in my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are,a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive."

The mystery of another person....

2007-07-18T19:11:00.000-04:00

Dave sent me an article some weeks back by Sam Wells, Dean of Duke Chapel since 2005. In it, Sam asks us to "pause and wonder for a moment at the mystery of another person -- another mind, another imagination, another myriad of experiences, energies, enthusiasms and enjoyments. Could one ever exhaust that person?" It is this "mystery" of another human being and her story, that makes things like l'Arche and pacifism and marriage and parenthood possible. We are created beings. We are, each of us, valuable, mysterious, unique. But it's not enough to SAY this. It must be lived, like any good theology.

This is where it gets hard. To value human life consistently, wholely, profoundly impacts our daily lives. It means approaching the hurried bank teller, the irritable coworker, and the hoard of school children around the Tidal Basin with the same (or with some semblance of similarity) awe and wonder that we approach our spouse, our child, our best friend. Sound difficult? We are not only called to value the persons we find annoying, but also those we may even consider disposable - inmates and delinquents, unwanted children and the elderly, the mentally and physically disabled, the Welfare mothers and the deadbeat dads, the pornographers and the prostitutes. THESE people have a "myriad of experiences, energies, enthusiasm, and enjoyments;" they may also have a myriad of sorrows, disappointments, anxieties, and dreams deferred. But their lives remain worthy of our witness and our attention.

Occasionally, when I am in a particularly pensive state, I find myself both overwhelmed with the idea that so many human lives have walked this earth, felt love and loss, celebrated and mourned, experienced pain and redemption. It is mystifying to me, the rich diversity of human stories that are enfolding at one time on this earth, the way they are intertwined with our own stories, yet vary so greatly from our own experience. Imagine, at this one moment, the multitude of human experiences that are occurring simultaneously - an umbilical chord cut, a guitar strummed, a kiss exchanged, a letter received, a casket closed. The great beauty and mystery of human life is occurring all around us. And it has been for 100,000 years. Wild.

People are wonderfully mysterious to me - this I have no hard time entertaining. What is most difficult, in believing life is sacred, is living in a world where life is not treated as such. I have heard horror stories from Dottie about the institution, Forest Haven, where some of our DC core folks use to live - the deplorable conditions, the medical and social neglect, the isolation and the torment. I have Rwandan friends who escaped the genocide that took so many of their family members some 2 decades ago. I have seen the scars of communist totalitarianism in the faces of Romanian shopkeepers and miners. I have read the seemingly endless stories of people affected by violence in Iraq, Afghanistan, the West Bank. I have broken bread with the homeless, friendless, HIV-positive men who roam Boston Common. I have prayed with men and women rotting away in our nation's industrial prisons. What of THESE lives, these disposable people? Will we ever witness their stories, share in their delights and sorrows?

There is no depth to human cruelty, no end to human kindness. We each have the capacity to demystify human life, to rationalize it and try to control it and even destroy it. But we each have the capacity to recognize human life as sacred, to see each other as uniquely created beings, to encourage one another's growth. Isn't this what Christians are called to do? Why do we suck so badly at it?

Prayer of L'Arche

2007-07-18T19:06:00.000-04:00

O Father, we ask You to bless us,
and keep us in Your love.
May L'Arche be a true home,
where the poor in Spirit may find life;
A place where those who are suffering
may find comfort and peace.
Lord, give us hearts that are open,
hearts that are humble and gentle,
so that we may welcome those You send,
with tenderness and compassion.

Give us hearts full of mercy,
that we may love and serve;
And where discord is found,
may we be able to heal and bring peace;
And see in the one who is suffering
the living presence of Your son.
Lord, through the hands of Your little ones,
we ask You to bless us.
Through the eyes of those who are rejected,
we ask You to smile on us.

Lord, grant freedom and fellowship,
and unity to all the world;
And on the day of Your coming,
welcome all people into Your Kingdom.

Amen.

Career aspirations ...?

2007-06-25T11:44:00.001-04:00

I remember writing a journal entry in my creative writing class my senior year of highschool of all the things I wanted to "be" when I grew up. Short of astronaut, everything's there -- I dug up the old journal entry (after looking through a dozen of my old, dusty journals).

*Scientist (I don't speficy which science)
*Anthropologist ("So I can travel to distant countries and live in primative cultures." -- I cringed as I typed that)
*Sociologist ("So I can evaluate social groups and write a book about it." -- this one is the most probable, I think)
*Psychologist (following in my dad's footsteps, perhaps?)
*Highschool English teacher
*Highschool theatre teacher ("So I can be the next Mr Hulan.")
*Linguist ("So I can travel to archeological digs and translate old, archaic texts." -- There was a while there when I was totally convinced I was going to study linguistics in college.)
*Wycliffe Bible Translator ("So I can travel to South America and live with native tribes..." -- I remember this faze well.)
*Priest (something about wanting to "defy social standards while serving God" -- not exactly the best motivation to go into the ministry.)
*Sociology professor (bizarre....because this has been a real, recent thought.)
*Photographer ("So I can take pictures of children around the world.")
*Radio DJ (This explanation is priceless -- "So I can have a nation-wide Christian rock station.")
*Stage director (something about "creating a play.")
*Actress ("So I can perform on Broadway.)
*Singer/songwriter (goes without saying, I guess).
*Senator (another priceless gem from my heavy-duty Evangelical days -- "So I can make Godly legislation.")

It's a bit more understandable why my mother is worried about me and the direction my life will take. I have a lot of lofty ambitions, but these rarely take shape. Grant it, I was 18 when I wrote that entry, and my head is somewhat out of the clouds now, but I still have lofty ideas. I've thought more seriously about becoming a professor, becoming ordained, working in some capacity with the Church, becoming a therapist/psychologist, doing aids work/community development overseas, writing and teaching, doing research, mentoring and counseling. I guess that means I can cross off actress and singer/songwriter. And radio DJ. But what can I add on? Could I really be a professor or a writer? I don't have the attention span for that (then again, my favorite professor has the attention span of a gnat and he does alright). Could I really be a therapist, when I'm already prone to taking on the burdens of the world? Could I deal with the hardships of development work in post-communist Eastern Europe, in resource-scarce East Africa? Could I stand in front of a congregation and break the bread when I know my heart is black as soot?

Why I am a pacifist...in email-essay form...

2007-06-03T22:27:00.000-04:00

A friend recently asked me to speak more about pacifism and my prediliction towards it. Though I could lay out some points, that's borning and impersonal. Instead, I thought I would post this email I wrote about a year ago to my professor-friend from college. He had asked me to read Coetzee's novel, "Disgrace," and my response to the text was one promoting non-violence. He prompted me to speak more on the subject, given that he had disagreements. The email ended up essay-length, but I've shortened it slightly and modified it for varying reasons. Here it is...

_____________________________________________________________________________________

You are right to say that I am not attracted to pacifism because it is politically correct or trendy in bohemian circles. In fact, the pacifism with which I sympathize is neither. Non-violence as a practice is, in fact, a political nightmare. To assume that nation-states would ascribe to such a philosophy is ludicrous. And non-violent practice is hardly trendy anywhere, even in the hippie circles of Southeast Portland. For most, opposition of the Iraq war (or the death penalty, or nuclear power) is still founded on rational, political principles -- this current war had little just cause, was poorly executed, contained no exit strategy, etc. In case of the death penalty, very often it is issues of racism that fuel its opposition, not the loss of life of the inmates. Practical non-violence opposes these things, but not because the mechanisms of war or capital punishment contain some kinks. Pacifism opposes the mechanisms themselves.

You suggested I should revisit the United States’ decision to enter WWII. This war, what many would consider the only “just war” we’ve fought in the 20th century, is often used as a response to opposers of war (all war). If we are going to applaud America for its decision to enter and to end WWII, I can only reflect on the hundreds of thousands of Jews, Roma, etc., who were killed in mass the 6 years prior to Pearl Harbor. Reports of such a holocaust made the last page of the New York Times. And what of the hundreds of thousands of civilian lives lost in the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima? Have we forgotten these atrocities? Of course, we responded out of self-preservation…I would expect nothing more. This is the job of nations.

What would the world look like without our declaration of war? I can only imagine. But if we are going to ask this question, we have no choice but to ask, “What does the world look like because of our declaration of war?” WWI, the War to End All Wars, served to jumpstart the blood shed during the 20th century -- over one hundred million lives lost (that’s 8 zeros) in violent conflict, more than any other century combined. WWII brought us international terrorism, bio-chemical weapons, and the nuclear bomb (all three have only prompted more armed conflict throughout the decades, including most recently IraqX2, Afghanistan, and North Korea). Peace resulting from war is only a temporary stalemate. History bears this out. To me, history does a fine job of validating and verifying that war rarely, if ever, contributes to a just and lasting peace.

What of the colonized, the American Indians slaughtered by European invaders, the indigenous peoples of Africa, India, and the Pacific trampled upon and enslaved by outside enemies? Do they not have the right to respond to this violence with violence? I have no right to answer, as I sit in my comfortable desk in a comfortable corner of the world where I am more likely to colonize than to be colonized. But I will say this: Rwandans, in violent retaliation of French colonization, destroyed not their French oppressors but one another. More than a million Rwandans died in 1994; their French colonizers remain alive and well. The Hutus’ held to a perverted sense of justice (destroy the Tutsi) prompted by colonialist preference of the more “Aryan-looking” people, the Tutsi. In this case, violence beget violence; no justice was served.

Can we envision a human experience without violence? Impossible. You say so yourself. We encounter violence daily, the swatting of a fly, the anger of a spouse, the birth of a child. In many ways, it is the experience of pain and suffering that makes us more fully human, that brings us into fuller awareness of ourselves and of God. Jesus (whom I wish to emulate) understood this. According to him, we are to be “born anew,” implying we must experience pain (violence) in order to experience wholeness. We must die to our old selves. We must taste death in order to experience life. This is a paradox, a coupling of opposites used to convey Truth (Reality). Jesus was no stranger to pain being a part of the human experience. And, considering the time and place into which he was born (living under the oppressive regime of the Roman empire), Jesus undoubtedly was no stranger to destructive acts of violence. We must remember that his crucifixion was a legal, just punishment under both Roman and Jewish law.

I don’t mean to use this word violence abstractly or arbitrarily. Violence, by its most common definition, is defined as the use of aggressive force to bring about the destruction of another, usually through physical acts, but also through other means, as well. I am primarily concerned here with acts of violence against other human beings, though very often, the destruction of the Earth is intimately related to human aggression.

I do not bring up the examples of war and genocide to make the argument that pacifism is somehow the solution to rid the world of violence. Rather, pacifism is a way to orient ourselves in a world that is filled with violence. It operates under the assumption that violence is an inevitable (if not overwhelming) force in the world, and that we, as people of faith, wish to respond differently. Pacifism does not eliminate pain or suffering from our experience. In many ways, to act non-violently (turn the other cheek, walk the second mile) is to experience pain, but a constructive pain, much like the pain of consensual intercourse or birth. The ego and the body may suffer, but the spirit remains whole. Essentially, to react to violence with non-violent means is to refuse to hate; it is this hate which poisons the soul.

I am not proposing that we do away with the prison system, that the police force serves no purpose in society, that UN peacekeepers should enter war-torn countries carrying flags rather than guns. Nor am I saying that there is no need for restraint or punishment of violent offenders. I am not prescribing a universal ethic here, because I do not believe we can live peace-promoting lifestyles without the presence of community (Peck would argue this, also). Communities, particularly the Church, are bound to a history, a story that has been unfolding for centuries. Pacifism is nothing new; it was the foundational ethic of the early Church. Pacifists must have memories of the past and hopes for the future in order to live non-violently, peacefully. Pacifism is of no importance to one who has no association with a common story and lives under the assumption that this present world is all there is and all there ever will be. Ultimately, pacifism is an ethic of the Church, and a messy ethic at that. But, nonetheless, it is an ethic upheld by a common story rooted (ideally) in the life and teachings of Jesus, and it is an ethic lived with the knowledge that the Kingdom of God is now, here. We no longer wait for this Kingdom…we live it. And I believe living it involves promoting peace in the face of violence.

If violence and destruction are synonymous, couldn’t non-violence and love, as Peck and Fromm, define it, also be? To practice nonviolence is to extend oneself for the growth of another, to desire the maturity and wholeness of another human being, unconditionally. To practice nonviolence, to love, is to believe that all persons, even the most vile and destructive, are subject to grace. It is, as you say, to leave the work of God up to God. It is to believe we are all capable of great violence and we are all in need of forgiveness, grace, reconciliation, and love. Think about it -- to act nonviolent, to place our faith in peace rather than destruction, allows us to be free from fear! After the ex-pats and diplomats are gone from Afghanistan and Iraq, who remain? The pacifists. There is nothing left to fear, not even death. If I am going to place my faith in anything, it is the transforming work of non-violence and reconciliation I have seen at work in Northern Uganda, Rwanda, Iraq, Palestine, Northern Ireland, Cambodia, Guatemala, Columbia, the projects of our US cities, etc.

At this point in my life, I have no use for an impractical nonviolent ethic. As a member of a l’Arche community, I am called to live peaceably on a daily basis, through my thoughts and words and actions. Marilyn, who suffers from an anxiety disorder and occasional lashes out at me and other assistants, desperately needs to live in a place that promotes peaceful conflict resolution. I must respond to Marilyn’s violence non-violently for both of our sakes. This includes swallowing my pride and enduring her anger, until she comes to the realization that I am not the cause of her anger but a presence of peace and unconditional forgiveness. This does not mean we let Marilyn run wild but we take steps to ensure her safety and the safety of others, so that everyone’s personhood is respected. In fact, Marilyn established the steps we as assistants would take in order to deescalate her anxiety. It’s been a long struggle for her, but she has come a long way. The peace of l’Arche has been transformative in her life. She would be the first to say this.

I remember us talking about things we would die for. Is life even worth living if we have nothing to die for? What if I chose to die for my enemy? Could you respect my life and my faith to respond without violence? I guess I should be appreciative that the “last thing on your mind would be non-violence,” but does this not betray my life, my experience, that in which I have placed my faith? These are hard, uncomfortable questions, I know. But please know that I do not take any of this pacifism “stuff” lightly. I am young, I am idealistic, but I am also living in a world ravaged by war and obsessed with death. As I said, I do not seek nonviolent means because its sexy or any easy fix to the world’s ills. I seek it because I have faith in it, because I am bound to a story that has been defined by it, because the story of Jesus fascinates me and gives me hope. Whether or not you agree with me, or think I’m raving mad, or choose to agree to disagree, I do hope that this essay-like response has shed a bit more light on why I find pacifism to be compelling. And I hope (and expect) that you will continue to hold me to the consistency of my position on this and other subjects.

Truly,

Heather

Wal-Mart, you've done it again....

2007-06-01T01:36:00.000-04:00

A recent Alabama court decision, 5/11/07, occurred which found that it
was "unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction are
'major life activities' under the ADA." As you read the following
article, consider, what factors, in your opinion, went into the
decision? What implications might this type of ruling have for people
with disabilities? Do you see this as an advantage or disadvantage for
people with disabilities? Please share you thought us with us at
NSIP@umb.edu, and we will post your responses.

Court Decision: "Mental retardation" is not a disability under ADA

In the case of Littleton v. Wal-Mart Stores, Inc., the Court of Appeals
for the Eleventh Circuit, in an unpublished opinion from May 11, held
that an individual with mental retardation did not have a disability
under the Americans with Disabilities Act.

With guidance from the Alabama Independent Living Center, Mr. Littleton
interviewed for a job as a cart-push associate at Wal-Mart. However he
was not allowed to have his job coach accompany him into the
interview,and he was ultimately not hired.
While acknowledging his intellectual disability, in the Court's
analysis, Littleton, who receives Social Security benefits because of
his disability, was found not to be substantially limited in major life
activities.

The following are excerpts from the court decision:

"We do not doubt that Littleton has certain limitations because of his
mental retardation. In order to qualify as 'disabled' under the ADA,
however, Littleton has the burden of proving that he actually is, is
perceived to be, or has a record of being substantially limited as to
'major life activities' under the ADA.

"It is unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction
are 'major life activities' under the ADA."

The entire court opinion is available as a pdf at:
http://www.ca11.uscourts.gov/unpub/ops/200512770.pdf
(This article was from the Justice for All email archives 5/24/07)

Contact the National Service Inclusion Project (NSIP) team members to
provide resources, offer technical assistance and answer your questions
concerning the inclusion of people with disabilities in national
service. NSIP contact information is: email nsip@umb.edu or contact us
toll-free at 1-888-491-0326 voice/TTY. To see a complete list of
trainings that NSIP offers, or to request a training, go to:
http://www.serviceandinclusion.org/index.php?page=request . The NSIP
team looks forward to hearing from you.

Blame me for war....

2007-05-04T00:50:00.000-04:00

I was up at TJ today, running around the track with Terrence for a while, and then I headed inside to lift weights. The lady at the reception desk greeted me as I came in, but there was a visible change in her face when she looked down at my shirt and read, "Blame Me For War" on it, along with a quote from Jacques Ellul. Her face sort of melted into confusion mixed with disgust. I was self-conscious the rest of the time I was at the gym. My cover has been blown, I kept thinking. What if someone asks me to explain? What would I say? "Uh, well...I think Christians are to blame...I mean, I'm a Christian....er....the Church must be the agent of change in our society and we can't rely on government to....well, as a follower of Jesus, I'm supposed to die rather than take the life of another, so essentially, it's my fault. Sorry I'm not dead." As you can imagine, this would have gotten me strong up on the weight machine at Thomas Jefferson Community Center. I half-heartedly lifted ten pounds over my head a few times and left. I ran home...fast.

Being a social misfit probably isn't the worst part of being a pacifist (or someone who likes to think she is). It's the tangible, earth-shattering reality of the belief itself...a belief that isn't simply talked about and or screen-printed on t-shirts. It's lived. It involves the whole of ourselves, our bodies and our minds and our very souls, to be put on the line for the one's we hate the most. Anyone else find this disturbing and unreasonable, perhaps even wrong? I left Tj tonight without having to say a word about my sympathies with pacifism. Maybe that's why I left - so as to escape the questions, the prying eyes, the looks of disgust.

It's fine to slap pacifists slogans to my bumper or my chest, but I'm still full of shit. How am I a pacifist if my first response is always to defend my ego? How am I a pacifist if I can't stand my somewhat unstable next-door neighbor? How am I a pacifist if I curse and fume at the television whenever Bush decides to open his mouth? How am I a pacifist if I respond to Linda's questions with short, dismissive answers? How am I a pacifist if I'm consuming goods that economically and environmentally oppress? How am I a pacifist if I fuel my car with gasoline drilled in a war zone? How am I a pacifist if I role my eyes instead of responding to Hazel's emotional needs? How am I pacifist if I hoard my belongings and ignore the beared man on Glebe Rd who wants nothing more than a few bills? I think it would be just as accurate to replace "pacifist" in these sentences with "Christian." I'm in the process of becoming a Christian, but I have such a long way to go.

We are not immune...

2007-04-19T00:18:00.000-04:00

What happened in Blacksburg is terrible, tragic, disheartening. Everyone in America is reeling - How could someone do this? What a monster! What went wrong? What did those innocent people do to deserve this? What does it all mean? What's even more shocking is that this shooting spree, with the biggest death toll in US history, happened on a college campus. Our campuses, with their manicured lawns and young, hopeful minds, represent what's great about the United States. Less than 1% of the world's population has access to college education, and we, as a nation, hold the most institutions of higher learning, not to mention some of the best. Sure, we can shrug off car bombings in Iraq, suicide bombings in Tel Aviv, massacres in the Congo and Sudan, drug-related gang violence in our inner cities. But the death of 32 innocents, on a college campus, in the US? This is unspeakable...unthinkable. Our cloistered existence as the educated minority enables us to deny the brutality that is the lives of billions around the world. And such a tragedy, as well as 9/11, shatters the false notion that we are safe, that we are in control, and that we are immune.

Today, as our eyes lay transfixed upon the face of a disturbed, brutal VT killer named Cho Seung-hui, the nation of Iraq experienced its bloodiest day since the US army occupation began 4 years ago. Some 200 people were killed in a bomb near the Sadria marketplace, which was being rebuilt after a February bombing there killed 130 people. Today, in one fell swoop, 200 people lost their lives. I dare not measure the depth and pain of tragedy quantitatively. One life lost is equivalent to a thousand lives lost - terrible, tragic, and cause for mourning. But, as painful and impossible as it may seem, let us step into the shoes of a shop-keeper in Baghdad who by the grace of God remains alive, selling his meager goods in his war-torn city, who has witnessed the countless senseless deaths of his family and friends, neighbors and loved-ones, who has had to grapple physically and emotionally and existentially with the meaning of it all, the meaning of life and the meaning of death, and God's place in all of it.

Is this possible for us, as Americans, to step inside his shoes, to look him in the face and say, "You are my brother. We have both experienced tragedy. We have both experienced loss." Can this horrific event enable us to recognize each other in our pain and suffering, our grief and anguish? Can we learn to shed tears not only for the slain in Blacksburg, but also the dead men, women, and children of Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine, Sudan, Uganda...? Can we ask each other for forgiveness? Can we embrace over the death of our loved ones? Can we protect one another from the violence of this world? Can we bend our knees together in prayers for peace? Can we love our enemies...together?

Lord, Lord we need your help.

Easter, etc.

2007-04-15T23:12:00.000-04:00

I spent Easter in the most pagan city in the United States. Really. I think Portland, Oregon, has the least amount of church attendance in the entire county. The State of Oregon has the highest proportion of religiously-unaffiliated and self-identified "nonreligious" residents. But, as Devon reminded me, I am NOT living in the most pagan nation in the world (by traditional standards....we are total pagans when it comes to our obsession with the individual freedom, death, money, choice, Self). She, on the other hand, resides in France, where they're about outlawing religious head-coverings in schools. WTF, mate?

Melissa, Jacob, and I had a nice, nice time - good beer and coffee. And we visited the farmers' market which was, as always, very cool (and wet) and the Saturday market. It was great to see the folks again at l'Arche, too. I miss Enner (Erin) a lot. Marilyn is still as out of control as ever but seems to have settled into the changes as they've come. And Joni continues to want her nails painted and listening to her IPod. And Adam has taken up tennis. It was nice to be back in a l'Arche home, however briefly, that's been in existence for two decades, where things are a bit more simple, a bit less complicated. Even though Marilyn is out of control, it definitely feels calmer there. Perhaps it's the West Coast thing, as well. Things in the North-west are...nice. Green, organic, quirky, bike-friendly, with mountains that look like mountains rather than mole hills.

I wish I lived in Portland. I'm sure the hipness would grate on my after a while, but I'm still in my Let's-be-hip phase (with one foot out the door), so I think I could handle it for the time being. And I miss living with/near Melissa and Jacob. They live in a nice, tiny apartment with nuns...and rich people down the street. We watched a lot of movies and ate good Cuban Creole food (it exists!) and went to church a lot (take that!). Our friend Tim became Catholic at the Easter vigil service on Saturday night and that was exciting, especially the party afterwards where I stuffed myself with sweets and felt a bit ill. We celebrated Melissa's birthday on Easter, as well. She's old....27. I can't believe I'm going to be 24 next year. I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Dear Lord.

So...maybe I should postpone graduate school (again) and move out to Portland. Mom and Dad said they would follow if M/J and I decided to stay out there. Hmm....I love ending my posts with a thoughtful 'hmmm....'

Fam...

2007-03-29T22:52:00.000-04:00

I love my parents...

...and my sister, too.

Blahgs

2007-03-29T21:46:00.000-04:00

Hey, I followed in Ryan's footsteps and ALSO made a list of blogs....please let me know if you want me to take yours down (or put yours up).

The bug...

2007-03-20T22:51:00.000-04:00

I'm getting the travel bug again, that itch under my skin to leave the country...FAST. We Americans do have a problem staying put...being invested in one place, commiting our time and energy to a specific community for the rest of our lives. We are a mobile people, rootless and roaming, like the band of hippie ministrals Matt and I saw this weekend at the peace protest. There's something about the nomadic life that is sexy and, I'm sure in many ways, idealized. But it's appealing, at least to us here in the Estados Unidos.

Then again, the nomadic life is exhausting, especially if you are doing it alone, traveling from place to place, starting over wherever you go, establishing relationships and then leaving again. Going from Gordon to Romania to Portland to DC in less than a year was a bit overwhelming. A little too much transitioning if you ask me. But as of right now, the thought of being here another year feels...weird. I'm not used to it. I'm only used to biting off small chunks of time, a few months here and there rather than entire years.

So that being said, I feel the urge to be...somewhere else, somewhere none-US. Somewhere African or Eastern European. Uganda has settled firmly in my heart and mind as The Country To Return To. And Romania doesn't beckon to me so much as the people who are still there -- Dana and Brandi and Diana and Victor. I miss them a lot. I love to travel. I love the awkward, fish-out-of-water feeling you have for the first month, and then I love settling into the place, learning obscure local lingo and lore, feeling "at home" in a new setting. I love the excitement of being surrounded by so many new things - new foods and sites and customs. There are a lots of hardships and frustrations with traveling, too, of course. But the enjoyments far outweigh them.

I wonder if there will ever be a day when I feel read to settle down, take root somewhere, a day when a one-year committment will seem like a piece of cake rather than something daunting. It's not that I'm non-committal. It's just that there are a gazillion things I'm interested in and want to do and see and experience. Trying to pin down just one and stick with it is....against my nature. But not unlearnable. I am doing a lot of things lately that are "against" my very nature...like bills and schedules and meetings gallore. We can all learn to do even the things we aren't good at and don't care to be good at.

I've talked to Steve about potentially visiting him in Cairo next winter. Or meeting up somewhere. We shall see.

Some nice news....

2007-03-09T17:51:00.000-05:00

Group Homes Get More Va. Funds

By Chris L. Jenkins

Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, March 8, 2007; Page VA03

The General Assembly has dramatically expanded a program that provides community care to people with mental disabilities in Northern Virginia, approving funding that will add group home beds and pay more to agencies that offer services in the area.

During the 46-day legislative session that ended last month, lawmakers pumped enough money into the current $74 billion state budget so an additional 330 people with mental disabilities throughout Virginia will have access to community care, such as small group homes. Northern Virginia will likely receive about 60 of those slots, with the majority going to Fairfax County residents, said Alan Wooten, director of mental retardation services for the Fairfax-Falls Church Community Services Board.

In addition, state officials increased funding by $5 million to agencies in Northern Virginia that provide services to people with mental disabilities to help the agencies manage the high costs of doing business in the region. State reports estimate that the cost of providing those services in Northern Virginia is at least 30 percent higher than elsewhere in the state. Currently, agencies in the region are paid the same rate for their services as those elsewhere in Virginia.

The additional money will boost funding to Northern Virginia agencies by 15 percent, which will largely go toward increasing salaries to direct-care workers.

Advocates and state officials said the extra $5 million from the state will go a long way toward helping organizations stay in the region.

"This will go directly to paying our workers better," said Nancy Mercer, executive director of the Arc of Northern Virginia, which organized a regional push to get the extra $5 million from the state. Combined with federal funding, the region's agencies will get an increase of $10 million annually starting in fiscal 2008.

"We're also hoping that this will help our agencies here in Northern Virginia to stay and not have to move someplace else, where the cost of doing business is cheaper," Mercer said.

Advocates and officials said the higher compensation might encourage other agencies to open in Northern Virginia.

In all, Virginia allocated about $15 million statewide for those services this year, an amount advocates and state officials called significant.

The new funding will help whittle the long waiting list for services in the area. Nearly 950 Northern Virginians with mental disabilities get a Medicaid-funded waiver to receive services, largely group-home beds, in the community instead of being placed in institutions. Because of long-standing funding shortages, hundreds are on years-long waiting lists to receive community care, which generally costs less than institutionalizing people in large facilities downstate.

State officials and lawmakers said the General Assembly was swayed to make the investment this year because of a focused effort by advocates.

For nearly a year, advocates in Northern Virginia have been pressing lawmakers to help increase funding for the area's providers. Every Northern Virginia lawmaker signed onto the legislation to do so. In addition, the budget amendments were sponsored by area lawmakers, including Del. Vincent F. Callahan Jr. (R-Fairfax) and Sens. Janet D. Howell (D-Fairfax) and Charles J. Colgan (D-Prince William).

"The Northern Virginia advocates really pushed statewide, and the legislature heard them," Howell said.

The alternative version....

2007-03-07T14:29:00.000-05:00

My dear friend Ryan, who seems to have serious disdain for my personality type (despite the fact we differ on one degree....take that!) left this 'alternative' version of Type 7 as a comment, but it was too funny to leave it there to collect dust, so I will post it here.

Opportunistic Idealism (Ennea-Type VII)
Gluttony, Fraudulence and Narcissism
Trait Structure
Gluttony
Hedonistic Permissiveness
Rebelliousness
Lack of Discipline
Imaginary Wish Fulfillment
Seductive Pleasingness
Narcissism
Persuasiveness
Fraudulence

I hae to say it, but he's pretty right on. Especially the "seductive pleasingness."

Uh oh...here we go again.

2007-03-07T00:23:00.000-05:00

So...I found ANOTHER personality test, the Enneagram 9 Types (http://www.9types.com/), and I am a number 7. Does my love of personality tests make me obsessed with self? Or just interested in being self-knowledgable? I must admit this is pretty right on. I bolded the ones that hit the nail on the head (aka, all of them).

Type 7: Adventurers are energetic, lively, and optimistic. They want to contribute to the world.

How to Get Along with Me:

Give me companionship, affection, and freedom.
Engage with me in stimulating conversation and laughter.
Appreciate my grand visions and listen to my stories.
Don't try to change my style. Accept me the way I am.
Be responsible for youself. I dislike clingy or needy people.
Don't tell me what to do.

What I Like About Being a Seven:

being optimistic and not letting life's troubles get me down
being spontaneous and free-spirited
being outspoken and outrageous. It's part of the fun.
being generous and trying to make the world a better place
having the guts to take risks and to try exciting adventures
having such varied interests and abilities

What's Hard About Being a Seven:

not having enough time to do all the things I want
not completing things I start
not being able to profit from the benefits that come from specializing; not making a commitment to a career
having a tendency to be ungrounded; getting lost in plans or fantasies
feeling confined when I'm in a one-to-one relationship

Global warming as "tool of Satan"

2007-03-03T23:03:00.001-05:00

Christians, particularly the fundamentalists of the Religious Right, fascinate me. I'm both repelled and attracted to them, much like roadkill....you know it's gonna be nasty but you can't help but look. Here are some particualrly amusing sections from an article I read on global warming and Jerry Falwell:
_________________________________________________

Falwell Says Global Warming Tool of Satan by Bob Allen, 03-01-07, http://www.ethicsdaily.com/article_detail.cfm?AID=8596

Moral Majority founder Jerry Falwell, who has worked for decades to involve conservative Christians in politics, said Sunday the debate over global warming is a tool of Satan being used to distract churches from their primary focus of preaching the gospel. "If I decide here as the pastor and our deacons decide that we're going to get caught up in the global warming thing, we're not going to be able to reach the masses of souls for Christ, because our attention will be elsewhere, " Falwell said in Sunday's sermon at Thomas Road Baptist Church in Lynchburg, Va. "That's pretty wise for Satan to concoct." ...

Falwell didn't deny the earth is warmer than it once was, but he said fluctuations in the earth's temperature have nothing to do with human activity. He described the "truth" linking global warming to a rise in man-made carbon dioxide gases as the "greatest deception in the history of science." ...

Falwell cited two Bible verses that he said apply to the global-warming debate: Psalm 24:1-2, which declares "The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof," and Genesis 8:22, which says there will be seasons of spring, summer, fall and winter for "as long as the earth remains."...

"Now how long will the earth remain?" Falwell asked. "It will remain until the new heavens and the new earth come. And that won't happen until, well, over in the last two chapters of the Bible--after the tribulation, after the thousand-year reign of Christ, then new heavens and new earth. Why? Because the former things are passed away. The earth will go up in dissolution from severe heat. The environmentalists will be really shook up then, because God is going to blow it all away, and bring down new heavens and new earth."

In recent years, "since Al Gore invented the Internet and then accelerated global warming," Falwell said, "our world has been in turmoil." Unfortunately, Falwell said, "naïve Christian leaders are also being duped," jumping on a bandwagon with "persons who are on the left of everything." "I agree every Christian ought to be an environmentalist of reasonable sort," Falwell said. "We should certainly pick up trash. We ought to beautify the earth as best we can. We ought to keep the streams clean. But we shouldn't be hugging trees and worshipping the creation more than we worship the Creator, and that is what global warming is all about."

Falwell said a better name for Gore's film, which later the evening following Falwell's Sunday morning sermon won an Oscar for best documentary, would be "A Convenient Untruth--convenient for him to alarm the people for his own political advantage, without any background."
___________________________________________
As I said, pretty hilarious. But then there is this, http://www.christiansandclimate.org/statement, which renews my faith in the Church. I bought a book today called, "It's Easy Being Green" with all these pratical steps to make your lifestyle more eco-friendly. I would really like to implement some of these enivornmentally sound practices into our life in l'Arche. Perhaps I will post an entry with some of the ideas I find. More on that later.

Waves...

2007-02-19T19:54:00.000-05:00

What is the appropriate, socially acceptable amount of time to mourn for a bereaved pet? A few days? A few weeks? Maybe it depends on the number of years you've had the pet. Or perhaps the age and maturity level of the surviving owner. Maybe it's a combination. I've had Cinnamon for 16 years. I was 7 then and I'm 23 year now. That means for 2/3s of my life, 66.66%, Cinnamon has been around. It's like he became a permanent fixture...I just always expected him to be around. And then, on Thursday, I came home to find him gone. He's been declining in health since December but was psychologically healthy. Never seemed to be in pain, even though he was losing weight. Never became a recluse. Never ceased to want to be around people, to give and receive affection. His sister, Oreo (yes, yes...we named them when we were in early elementary school), has been psychologically wack for the last year or so...like an angry, crazy aunt who lives in the basement and never sees the light of day. But Cinnamon....rocked. We were thoroughly attached to one another. We had our rituals...waking me up in the early morning, meeting me on the stairs, greeting me when I walked in the door. Ugh. This hurts a lot.

It really does feel like such a loss, no matter how minor a cats life may seem to the world. Funny, there are plenty of people on this earth who treat human life as frivolous and unsacred. I can only imagine what they must think of me, blubbering over the lost life of my sweet cat. My friend made a good point when he said, "The world can be a very lonely, alienating place. Those creatures that help us overcome our loneliness, that provide us with companionship and unconditional love, are a great gift to us. Their loss can be very devastating." That's really all it was with my cat. I cared for him. He cared for me. Nothing else, really. No human baggage. It's hard to lose that companionship, the unconditional love of a non-human friend.

Man...I sound like one of those freaky cat lovers who collect all-things-cat, and have cat calendars and shirts printed with their cats' faces on them, and little cat tombstones for their graves. I never had Cinnamon pose in our family portraits or ever referred to him as a "little human being." But his absence is profound, and the devastation I feel makes him seem more than just a pet. So this is what grief feels like. I've experienced grief before, of course. I've experienced very painful loss -- the disolvement of certain friendships, breaking up with Nick when I was in highschool, Melissa going away to college, leaving Uganda, the loss of my faith, crying my eyes out in the basement of Ferrin when I broke up with Steve, the death of classmates. I'm blessed (or maybe not blessed?) to never have experienced major loss of life...no relatives or friends. Just my dear sweet cat who lived a long, happy, contented life and who died peacefully and without pain. And I'm sad. I know this will pass. Grief comes in waves. First it crashes down. And then it subsides. And the waves come, but they come farther and farther apart.

But the loss does feel profound, however embarrassing it is to mourn for the loss of a pet. Given my habit of grieving for the roadkill squirrels and lion-hunted antelope, this probably should come as no surprise. I'm an emotional sap. I cry a lot. I often have profound, deep, earth-shaking emotional experiences and I value these experiences, however painful they may be. I just hate the finality, the loss of control. And I am overwhelmed when I think about all the death in the world, the retched, senseless deaths of those killed in suicide attacks or natural disasters....if I feel this bad about the death of my cat, what of the 50 who died today in Iraq? The twenty-some children killed this month in Palestine? The lonely deaths of the elderly and disabled in institutions? The untimely deaths of my classmates at Gordon? The woman taking groceries out of her car in DC who was struck and killed by a bus? What of all these lives? How many people are mourning their deaths?

Death is earth-shaking, life-shattering. Grief comes in waves. But the loss of life itself comes like a giant crash of a boulder in still water....ripples moving out and out and out and affecting ....everyone really. Everything is disturbed. And my heart aches for those grieving mothers and fathers and children and friends and loved ones. My heart aches for them because, though my loss feels significant, I will move on mostly unscathed. But imagine...your baby dying in your arms? Death overwhelms me. Life ripples in a pond, like waves in the sea.

Cinnamon

2007-02-16T20:04:00.000-05:00

My cat died today. I found him in the living room when I came home for the weekend. I've cried a lot. I'm sad. He was a part of my life for 16 years. That's 2/3 of my life. Now he's gone. Death sucks.

In opposition to the recent VA law...

2007-02-02T11:09:00.000-05:00

I referred to the recent VA law regarding the withholding of funds for non-profit groups that provide services to undocumented folks. More or less, these non-profits provide services to anyone in need, regardless of documentation (imagine: someone comes to a free clinic with a gushing wound, near death, and the doctor must search him for proper US documentation first. If no documentation found, the doctor can't treat him! Cruel? Yes...) This is f'ing messed up. Do you know how many times I've entered countries without proper documentation? I've been an illegal alien in various places around the world....my visa expired several months into my stay in Uganda....I didn't even get a visa for Romania because it was too much of a hassle. I was there, for all intents and purposes, illegally. Anyway, we are becoming neo-fascists. The movie, Children of Men, is quite prophetic in its portrayal of a near-future Europe that has come to demonize foreigners, forcing them into camps that closely resemble the Jewish ghettos during WWII. Anyway, the below link allows individuals to contact their senators regarding this atrocious law. I encourage all to take a stance.

http://www.democracyinaction.org/dia/organizationsORG/LAJC/campaign.jsp?campaign_KEY=6550&t=VJC.

Community and sickness....

2007-02-02T10:39:00.000-05:00

I'm coming down with something. This is what happens when 9 germ-producing-and-expelling bodies live together under one roof. Ha! I was listening to NPR the other night after I dropped the folks off at their exercise class...one of the news stories was about the flew epedemic that swept over the world at the turn of the century. Virtually every inhabited continent on the earth was affected (and infected) and millions upon millions died. The story focused primarily on 6 communities in the US that survived the flu 'plague' unscathed, with no deaths reported. These communities included a military base, Princeton U, several other schools, etc. Researches found that the reason these communities were able to live out the epedemic without loss of life was the practice of sequestering the healthy from the outside world. This is just the opposite of qaurentining the sick off from the healthy (think Camus' The Plague). These sequested communities didn't allow any vistors and remained isolated for months. And they survived. I was thinking about what would happen if a flu outbreak happened today. My committment to this community, l'Arche, means I'm responsible for the lives of people in this house, people who are more medically fragile than most. And as a Christian, I'm responsible for my neighbor, those in and outside of my community. This is something to think about, with all this talk of impending flu. How will the Church respond if and when something like this occurs? How is the Church responding now to the AIDS epedemic in Africa? Will remain faithful when our own bodily health is on the line? I'm thinking out loud here...I'm much better at asking questions than answering them.

Oh, Virginia, mired in racism and xenophobia.

2007-01-31T11:50:00.000-05:00

I am rarely proud to associate myself with this state, Virginia, when it comes to its historically racist past and homophobic, xenophobic present. Virginia was one of the first established colonies in the New World and Jamestown, VA, the first settlement. And yet, even after 400 years of existence, we are still producing laws and policies that are overtly racist and xenophobic. Interestingly enough, more presidents have been born and raised in the Commonwealth of Virginia than any other state in the Union. Virginia has a lot to offer, but it has offered so little in regards to justice, tolerance, and humility over the past 4 centuries. In honor of Black History Month (starting tomorrow) and to quench my own curiosity, I've done a bit of research on Virginia's ugly past and present:

*1619, first African slaves arrive in VA
*1661, in order to maintain needed labor on Jamestown's tobacco plantations, VA legislature legally recognizes slavery
*1667, VA legislature declares Christian baptism does not "exempt slaves from bondage"
*1705, VA legislature passes statute on "casual killing of slaves" that states, "If any slave resist his master...correcting such slave, and shall happen to be killed in such correction...the master shall be free of all punishment...as if such accident never happened." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slave_codes)
*1723, free African-Americans in VA are forbidden by law to carry weapons or associate with slaves.
*1762, the VA legislature passes law forbidden black males from voting.
*1792, northern States begin freeing slaves. With invention of cotton gin, demand for slavery increases and Virginia law forbids free blacks from entering the State.

Jumping ahead to Jim Crow era...

*1870, VA passes education statute prohibiting white and 'colored' children from being taught in the same school.
*1873, VA miscegenation state code: white persons who married Negroes would be jailed for at least one year, and fined a minimum of $100.
*1900, VA passes statute requiring railroads to offer separate cars for black and white passengers
*1901, city of Alexandria passes city ordinance requiring segregated streetcars
*1912, VA residential statute passed, stating "the preservation of the public morals, public health and public order, in the cities and towns of this commonwealth is endangered by the residence of white and colored people in close proximity to one another," authorizing cities and towns that adopted the provision, to be divided into districts known as "Segregation districts
*1924, to reinforce anti-miscegenation laws passed in the 1600s, VA passed law that prohibited whites from marrying anyone with “a single drop of Negro blood”
*1930, VA state code requires segregated audiences of every theatre, movie theatre, opera house, and other places of entertainment
*1930, VA passes bill for the "preservation of the white race," defining a white person as on with "no trace whatsoever" of non-white blood.
*1967, in court case Loving v Virginia, an inter-racial couple married in DC are arrested upon returning home to Virginia. The Supreme Court ruled anti-miscegenation laws unconstitutional.

Here are some incidences of racism and xenophobia that have happened more recently:
-former Senator George Allen's uses term 'macaca', a racial slur, in referring to a young man connected with the campaign of his opponent, James Webb
-Virginia Representative Virgil Goode went on record as opposed to newly-elected Minnesota Congressman Keith Ellison's intention, as a believer in Islam, to use the Koran in his swearing-in ceremony.
-Virginia state legislator, Delegate Frank D. Hargrove, Sr., offended African-Americans and Jews in his comments in opposition to legislation which would have the state apologize for slavery. Virginia apologizing for slavery in its past, Hargrove said, would be similar to having Jews apologize for killing Christ. When Delegate David L. Englin, who is Jewish, called Hargrove's remarks "inflammatory," Hargrove told Englin his skin was too thin.

And most recently, I read this headline today on the front-page of the Washington Post: "Va. House Approves Bill On Illegal Immigration: Aim Is to Block Access To State, Local Funds." (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/01/30/AR2007013001780.html) This bill could force the Virginia Association of Free Clinics and the Salvation Army, among other groups, to verify immigrant status before offering assistance to those in need or lose their funding (according to the article). Sponsor of the bill, Del. Miller from Manassas (my friggen' hometown) says, "The ultimate goal is to make the commonwealth of Virginia an unwelcome place if you are in this country illegally." The article also stated that Virginia has passed a number of other bills to make life "difficult for those who have entered the country illegally" - denying in-state college tuition to illegal immigrants, punishing employers who hire undocumented workers, expanding the power of police to apprehend undocumented persons.

The ACLU chapter in Virginia provides some more information regarding the infringement upon immigrant rights in Virginia: http://www.acluva.org/pages/ImmRights.html Are these policies and those during slavery and the Jim Crow era not intimately related, rooted from the same distrust and hatred of the Other? Something must be done....

Immigration: The Migration of the Desperate

2007-01-29T09:20:00.000-05:00

The church Hazel and I go to most Sundays, Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church, places an enormous amount of emphasis on issues of social justice, advocacy, and reform. In last week's newsletter was this insert regarding the current immigration crisis in America. I found it profound and important to share.

Looking at Root Causes: Why do Immigrants Come to the US?
*"We must never forget that many immigrants come to this country in desperate circumstances. Some have fled political persecution, war, economic devastation... Others have wagered on finding a better life in this country in the face of economic desperation at home. As Pope John Paul II has noted, 'In many regions of the world today people live in tragic situations of instability and uncertainty. It does not come as a surprise that in such contexts the poor and the destitute make plans to escape, to seek a new land that can offer them bread, dignity, and peace. This is the migration of the desperate..."
-US Catholic Bishops, Welcoming the Stranger Among Us: Unity in Diversity, Nov. 15, 2000
*Economic injustice still plagues most of the world, providing a strong impetus for immigration. Given the current situation, any true "solution" to illegal immigration to the US must take into account the root causes of the poverty from which many immigrants are trying to escape.
-There are 60 countries in today's world that are poorer than they were 30 years ago.
-A fifth of the world's population (1.2 billion human beings) live on less than $1 per day.
-Almost 50% of the world's population (2.8 billion human beings) live on less than $2 per day.
-Each second, a child dies of malnutrition.

An Unjust Trading System *The poorest countries of the world account for only 0.4% of international trade, yet they lose an estimated $700 billion a year due to unfair trade policies. The US and other developed nations are currently pursuing "free trade" agreements with developing countries. These developing countries, which often utilize higher levels of tariffs and taxes on incoming goods in order to gather revenue for their governments, are forced to eliminate these tariffs and taxes as a part of the free trade agreements. Yet, many people concerned with poverty are pointing to statistics which show that unregulated, "free" trade primarily benefits wealthy corporations and wealthy countries; poverty is INCREASING around the world despite increased free trade. The gap between the rich and the poor as increased under fair trade policies -- the median income of the richest 10% is 122 times HIGHER than the poorest 10%. From the perspective of Catholic Social Teaching, this is not authentic human development for all groups of people.
*One of the most unjust aspects of the trade system is the use of agricultural subsidies by the US and EU. The US provides hundreds of billions of dollars on agricultural subsidies, most of which goes to a few large agri-businesses who control most of the agricultural production in the US. This allows agricultural production to occur en masse and to knock smaller competitors -- both in the US and in developing countries -- out of business. (my interjection: Please see the documentaries "Life and Debt" and "Black Gold" for more information).

The Failure of the "Washington Consensus" *In the 80s and 90s, the international financial institutions, such as the IMF and the World Bank, promoted a set of policies called the "Washington Consensus." Many developing countries were pressured to liberalize trade and the financial sector, cut bank on social spending, and privatize services that were run by the state. For example, many countries in Latin America followed the recommended policies, but found that economic rates were better before the changes than after. The region remains poor. Many experts agree that this was a major setback for Latin America. Unfortunately, some of the same policies are still being recommended by financial institutions.

The Continuing Debt Crisis
*Despite recent initiative to reduce the debt of poor countries, such as the Heavily-Indebted Poor Country (HIPC) Initiative and the Multi-lateral Debt Relief Initiative (MDRI), dozens of countries still have not received relief and are still enslaved to debt. High levels of debt hurt the poor because the money that governments must spend on paying interests on debts takes valuable resources away from much-needed social services in poor countries (my interjection: check out Bono's One Campaign -- http://www.one.org/).

Insufficient Development Aid *In 1970, at the UN General Assembly, developed country governments pledged to devote .7% of their GNI on Official Development Assistance by the mid 1970s. However, NONE of the developed country donors reached this goal. Instead of .7% , the amount of aid has been closer to .3%, some $100 billion short. The US has donated the least of all developed nations, allocating just .22% of its GNI to ODA. (Norway .93%, Denmark .81%, Sweden .92%, Austria .52%, UK .48%, France .47%, Canada .34%) (my interjection: compare this .22% with the 49% currently allocated to defense and military in the national budget.) In 2005, the EU pledged to spend .56% of GNI on poverty reduction by 2010, and .7% by 2015. People concerned about global poverty are calling the US to take similar action.

Prayer to Change Our Hearts, Our Policies-Undocumented persons among us are often accused of break the law. Let us remember that it is our poverty-producing policies which break the law of human dignity. Change our hearts and our policies, O God.
-Our leaders see these people as burdens. Yet, if we came from a life without opportunities, wouldn’t we do the same? Change our hearts and our policies, O God.
-We long for a more just world, where families need not be separated for lack of opportunity. Inspire us to challenge the system and structures that perpetuate poverty. Change our hearts and our policies, O God.
Amen.

Those weeks...

2007-01-25T23:23:00.000-05:00

It's been one of "those" weeks where you look back and think, "Did I really make it to Friday?" Oye. It's all a blur, somewhere in my subconscious, properly suppressed next to the death of my cat Skittles when I was 7 and the time I fell off my bike in front of some neighborhood kids......or the time I had a panic attack and broke my babysitter's window and then pretended I knew nothing about it (until they called the police because the broken window looked suspiciously like a break in...and the officer held his flashlight up to my fingers and compared them to the ones on the window...and I knew it was over then). Ha! So much for suppressed, traumatic memories....they are boiling back up like volcanic lava. Isn't that what good psycho-therapy is? Unleashing the latent memories that haunt us and stunt our growth? Well, at least I'm freed of those.

No, really, the week was not traumatic like that incident with the window and the police officer. But as I explained it to my brother-o-law on the phone, "I'm a bad assistant." I really am, at least when it comes to dates and finances and paper pushing. I would make a horrible bureaucrat. But I'll take that as my own personal compliment. A bureaucrat came and visited our lovely home the other day and we were shaking in our stocking feet. She was from Medicaid Waver, and essentially has the power to make or break our life as a L’Arche community. It Is MA that provides our slots for group housing. It is MA that houses and feeds the supports the core members through monthly funding. It is through MA that we assistants have a salary (or stipend, rather). We are really at their mercy. So, when they show up unannounced to check up on our records, it's always a bit disconcerting. I hid in my room, until my addiction to caffeine lured me from my monastic cell to the kitchen where I caught glimpse of a real live bureaucrat, slaving away over her laptop with our schedules and med records and maintenance check lists strewn about her. But then, as I commented on the flurries outside (to myself), she looked up from her work and said to me, "Oh yes. Isn't it beautiful?" and I decided then that she wasn't two-headed monster waiting to rip our throats out....she was actually a blood-and-flesh human being. So that was nice. And she had mercy and grace on us for not signing this or that form.

This will be my job next year, battling the bureaucracy, keeping files up to date. The house is, essentially, screwed. Ha! No...as Debbie and I figured out tonight when I was making chipatis and peanut Thai noodles on the stove, I develop certain capacities when under stress, particularly the S and J of Myers-Briggs. If you are an S and a J, you are impeccable, probably Type A, highly organized, neatly pressed. I am not these things...most of the time (I actually went out of the house today wearing fleece from head to toe, without my teeth brushed, and my shirt on backwards). But Debbie, a usual SJ, when under stress, becomes an FP, evidenced by the fact that she put a metal bowl in the microwave to dethaw the broccoli, which I promptly pulled out, thanks to the help of adrenaline and the SJ coursing through my blood. We did had a mighty feast tonight, and 5 guests to dinner, including a developmentally disabled person named Jong who was pretty raucous. He found and ate three of our bagels in about 5 minutes flat. We were shocked into a state of awed silence.

Well, I've digressed. This week, Tuesday, I was supposed to take Eduardo to the dentist. I had scheduled and rescheduled this appointment twice and was very aware of the day and the time, not to mention the office called and reminded me on Monday. Blah blah. And yet, Tuesday morning rolls around and (due to a late night session with Stephen Colbert), I find myself turning my alarm clock off for another hour and .5 until I wake up at 10 -- the EXACT time I am supposed to be at the dentist with ED. Problem is, the ED is at work and the dentist is 20 minutes away. This is where I begin to perspire with dread. Fortunately, the office was merciful (maybe my shaking voice helped) and ED was slow but easy-going, and we raced there and made it in time for ED to have a new tooth.

As we were leaving the parking garage after the appointment, I realize I must pay $3.00 to a machine, rather than a teller. So, I pull out two crumpled ones and try desperately to stuff them into the machine, only to have them spit out again and again. The cars are lining up behind me. I'm leaning out the window, cursing at the machine all the while ED is smiling at himself in the mirror, until I prompt him to "look around for quarters." So, he finds me about 10 pennies (who knew?) and enjoys the "game" while I am perspiring with dread again and the line of cars behind me is approaching 4. Finally, a miracle of the Lord, some quarters are sent down like manna from Heaven and we make it out of the garage. ED is unfazed but I'm a wreck.

We drive out of the garage onto the main highway, and I sense something is wrong and ED, the perceptive one, says, "What's that funny noise coming from your car?" Like finding a lump on your back or coughing up a bit of blood, your first inclination is to ignore it, because it could only be something awful and it's much easier to deny it than face it. So I ignore it but it gets worse and it feels like I'm driving over gravel, though the road is smooth. Finally, I pull into a parking lot and, with dread of course, start the solemn walk around my car, checking each tire until....I find the last tire in the rear is flat. Completely flat. ED is not concerned and continues to smile at himself in the car mirror. Yay for Zoloft. But I begin to sweat again and my SJ kicks into action -- pull out the tire pump in my trunk, blow up the tire, and try desperately to make it the 13 miles home without totally ruining my rims. We make it, but just barely. The nice man at the shop on Glebe found the leak (which was not hard because it was whistling air out at a loud and rapid rate at the site where the cursed nail had punctured it) and plugged it and then over-charged me. I am sweaty and haggard and let it go.

That was my Tuesday morning....from slumber to total chaos. Such is L’Arche and life, I guess. That evening was my birthday celebration which was a sweet affair. It was then that everything was redeemed. And it's Thursday night and Eduardo's tooth hasn't fallen out yet which I'm counting as a miracle. Call up the Pope. The weeks really do fly in L’Arche. It's almost February. I just turned 23. I thought by this age, I would have my shit figured out, but I guess we all have our strengths and weaknesses and will have (many of) them for the rest of our lives. Today at our team meeting, Barbara was affirming all of us for being so "competent" and I looked at her and laughed. "Barbara, if you only saw me Tuesday." She replied, "We all have our days."

More wisdom from JV:

2007-01-21T20:22:00.000-05:00

Many of [the handicapped] have not developed their capacities of reason; so they live in a situation of trust…Religious faith comes easily to someone who lives on trust…For somebody who lives on reason, though, faith is not very interesting or easy.
The Other Side, March '86

Community is the place of forgiveness. In spite of all the trust we may have in each other there are always words that wound, self-promoting attitudes, situations where susceptibilities clash. That is why living together implies a certain cross, a constant effort and an acceptance which is daily and mutual forgiveness.
Community and Growth

One of the things that we discover when we live with the poor, is that they awaken our hearts as we tell each other's stories; they open us up to people; but they also reveal our own poverty.
Address to Lambeth Conference, July '98

We shouldn't seek the ideal community. It is a question of loving those whom God has set beside us today. They are signs of God.
Community and Growth

My hope is that more and more people will discover that the peace we all yearn for is not just the work of governments but the task of each one of us. We can all become makers of peace.
Finding Peace

God is not to be found in the ideal but is hidden in the poverty of the present moment, in all that is broken and inadequate in our communities and in our own hearts.
Letter from Trosly, August '03

This is kind of sad....

2007-01-19T12:20:00.000-05:00

Man. I thought I was well-traveled. But the Earth is so massive and I've been...hardly anywhere! I need to hop down to Mexico. I feel obligated, being their overbearing, ignorant neighbor to the north.

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Jean Vanier insight

2007-01-18T14:12:00.000-05:00

“The Word became flesh to communicate to us human beings caught in the mud, the pain, the fears and the brokenness of existence, the life, the joy, the communion, the ecstatic gift of love that is the source of all love and life and unity in our universe and that is the very life of God.”

a wedding.

2007-01-17T18:52:00.000-05:00

Melissa and Jacob are married. I am an official sister-in-law. They're wedding was beautiful, as far as I know. It's hard to have an objective perspective (an oxymoron) when standing next to the bride and groom. I was, perhaps, a bit obsequious...fawning over Melissa's train like a lackey. It was a delightful experience to be in a wedding, to witness the union of two people you love - one whom you've known your entire life and another whom you've grown to love in a short time.

The homily, given by one Dr Ellen Davis of Duke's Divinity School, encouraged Jacob and Melissa to "preach a sermon" with their marriage. And what would that sermon be? What would they preach to the world through the example of their marriage? Peace-making, care for the earth, respect for life, love for children, delight in simple things. I really do think marriage is meant to benefit the world. I think I read a Sojourners article on that once. Marriage for the common good. Strange way of saying it, but I do agree with the premise.

Will and I talked a bit in the car on the way over to the rehearsal dinner about the great risk that is taken when entering into a marriage covenant with someone. We are all going to pass away. We all must say goodbye someday. When we enter into a union with someone, we are bearing their humanity, their mortality, along with ours. "Sickness or in health. Until death do us part." Damn...if people really listened to the vows they made, really thought of their weight, their intensity, the divorce rate would be much lower in the United States. And the marriage rate would be lower, too, when you think about it. Marriage is no joke. It involves the most joyous aspects of life, and the deepest sorrow. And, as spouses and friends and family members, we must endure all of it together.

Strange Debbie food combinations:

2007-01-17T18:48:00.000-05:00

-tomato sauce with French toast
-peanut butter on an everything bagel
-dried squid and peanuts

I'm sure I will update this list later.

The great divorce...

2006-12-19T12:50:00.000-05:00

And so, it is finished. The Episcopal Church is broken in two. Martyn Minns was on the cover of the Washington Post yesterday, embracing a vestry member as the vote tally was read. I may feel theologically and politically alienated at Truro, but I was raised in that church, baptized and confirmed in that church. It is truly my home church, and no matter how different my understanding of the world and my faith, it will never cease to be my home church. Therefore, because I disagree with their dissenting and their theo-political understanding of the Gospel, do I leave? They have left the ECUSA, of course, so does that give me liberty to leave them? Once again, I feel spiritually homeless. I love the Episcopal Church, even with all its disfunctionalities, and I am intimately connected to Truro Church, one of the main leaders in the "fight to break away." This almost feels like being the child of divorced parents. You must pick a side! You must choose who you want to live with! Who will be your guardian now? This a hard place to be, especially when both "parents" are berating the other, equally as militant and self-righteous. It's enough to make me want to find a new family altogether.

Time ticks on...

2006-12-10T10:08:00.000-05:00

Looks like the Fire Department has overturned it's eviction notice. One down, a million to go. The DC city council is so chaotic, not to mention hostile to non-profits like l'Arche which are highly reputable. I don't get it.

Went out to a pub last night with Sarah, Mandy, and Deb. It was a LOT of fun. Mandy has been trying to get to me to see this local band, Scythian, for a long while - like three months! I couldn't believe their following. The bar was PACKED with twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings, professionals and yuppies, mostly. We made are way right in front so we were practically staring the band members in the eyes, watching the sweat trickle down their faces. They're a Celtic-fusion-rock-bluegrass band, or something. Guitar and violin and drums. Interesting. And we DANCED, like madwomen. I miss dancing. I feel like we danced all the time at Gordon -- we were dancing fools.

Christmas is coming at a rapid rate and I am missing Christ Church more and more with every passing day of Advent. I don't understand how most Protestant churches worship outside of a liturgical calendar. It's like existing in a seasonal vacuum, with the occasional holiday (Christmas and Easter) punctuating the sameness. This would be hard for me. I constantly need to be reminded of the faith I'm attempting to live, reminded of the story I am in, reminded of the many who have come before me and the many who will come after me. I need reminders. The change of colors on the alter, the seasonal hymns, the Scripture passages, the candles and flowers.

I'm applying to programs soon, though I'm sure I'll wait until the last possible moment. I believe Febuary 1st is the do-or-die date. I am leaning more and more towards the MDiv. And maybe a dual degree with an MSW. But the registrar told me that could take 4 years. Yikes! I get freshet thinking about committing to something for a year, let alone 4! That's like a PhD program or something. Do I really want to be in school for the rest of my life? Maybe. I was telling mom last night that I eventually hope to be paid for thinking, because I'm much more of a thinker than a doer. I feel comfortable with theories much more than with practical details. I suck at details. Hence my inability to spell or write legibly after all these years. Details details.

I had horrible dreams last night but, fortunately, I don't quite remember what they were about. Something awful, though...That I can remember. The kind that you wake up from in a cold sweat, hoping and praying that it isn't true, and even when you find out it isn't, you are so disturbed that your mind even came up with such a thing. I only wonder what Freud would say.

An article in the Washington Post...

2006-12-05T12:51:00.000-05:00

The District Bureaucracy Bears Down On a Dream
By Marc Fisher
Tuesday, December 5, 2006; Page B01

John Cook doesn't look like a man facing the prospect of 900 days in jail. As I meet Cook in the home he runs for mentally disabled people in Adams Morgan, the D.C. government is threatening to slam him with fines and jail time because he refuses to evict a 75-year-old man whose greatest wish in life is to have his own little apartment.

In a gentle but firm voice, Cook makes it clear: "I will not comply with this illegal, unnecessary and dangerous eviction notice." With that, he graciously takes me to meet Eugene Sampson and his cat, Joseph.

You might think that the D.C. government had done enough harm to Sampson, who spent nearly half a century of his life confined to Forest Haven, the city's now-shuttered snake pit for the retarded. But it's not done with Sampson. Ten days ago, just before Thanksgiving, the city's fire department issued the order to evict Sampson because the Health Department had complained that he is the sixth resident in a group home that the Consumer and Regulatory Affairs Department says is certified for only five disabled people.

With every day that passes, Cook's potential punishment increases by $300 and 90 days in jail.

" 'Evicted' is kind of a harsh word," says D.C. fire spokesman Alan Etter. "I think 'relocated to a proper situation' is better."

Why does Sampson have to go?

"It's a safety issue because they had one more person than they were permitted to have," Etter says. "And this person had mobility issues -- he's in a wheelchair -- and he's on the top floor. If there were to be a fire, evacuating him would be difficult."

Sounds reasonable, right? Except for this: Sampson does not use a wheelchair. I accompanied him on his daily walk to the corner, where he likes to meet people and say hello. And this: He doesn't live on the top floor, but rather on the first floor of the house, run by L'Arche, the worldwide charity that operates what many in the mental disabilities field consider some of the planet's best and most humane group homes.

The fire department wants Sampson out, even though Cook, executive director of L'Arche in Washington, applied months ago for a change in paperwork that would make it okay for the sixth person in the home to stay. Technically, L'Arche is in violation of the District's five-resident cap, but there are enough bedrooms in the house for several more residents, and the charity has repeatedly sought to raise the cap, with no response from the city.

Once again, the inability of a big bureaucracy to exercise a bit of discretion is leading to an assault on those who devote themselves to doing good. Last week, we had the sad spectacle of Fairfax County putting the letter of the law ahead of the grace of human generosity, deciding -- until a Washington Post story and the ensuing public outcry forced it to backtrack -- that charities and individuals may not give home-cooked food to the hungry and the homeless. Now the District government is going after L'Arche, which seeks to give mentally disabled people lives of dignity and purpose.

Thrilled with his new studio apartment in the rowhouse on Ontario Place NW, Sampson has hung his paintings on the wall. He shows me the little cabinet where Joseph the cat hides when Sampson is out. He talks about his days at an activities program in Tenleytown: "We make stuff. On Fridays, we have a movie."

On a shelf, he keeps a photo of his trip to the Caribbean, which he took after a court ordered the District to find the money former Forest Haven residents had earned doing jobs there.Sampson worked as a pallbearer; many times, he and one other man were the only people attending funerals at Forest Haven. When Sampson finally got his few thousand dollars, he had to spend down his assets or lose his Medicaid coverage, Cook explains. Thus, the cruise.

What did you like about the trip? I ask."Elvis Presley," Sampson says, with a big grin. The impersonators -- finally good for something.

Nothing the D.C. government can do would make Cook remove Sampson from the only apartment he's ever had.

Cook spends an inordinate chunk of his life fighting D.C. bureaucrats. Mostly, their inane wishes are his commands. Like the time a fire inspector came in, saw Joseph and ordered Cook to install a "cat door," a four-foot-high obstacle to keep the cat out of the kitchen. Cook immediately complied.

A year later, the same inspector returned and summoned Cook: "What's that thing?"

"Your cat door."

The inspector couldn't recall his arbitrary command. The cat door went away.

"L'Arche operates in 16 states, and everybody's got problems with the government," Cook says. "But nobody experiences anything like what we go through here. This city devalues and humiliates people with intellectual disabilities."

In a city where the group home system is riddled with awful places, the District aims its fire instead at an unusually inviting and pleasant facility.

The city forced L'Arche to post a sign announcing that the building houses the mentally retarded. The city told L'Arche to seal up a beautiful fireplace, even though the residents all understand the dangers of fire. The city required L'Arche to install locks on cabinets where household cleansers are kept, even though the residents use those products in their work as janitors or housekeepers.

"There is a constant effort to stigmatize, to demean and humiliate," Cook says. "It's a signal to residents that they aren't right and they aren't like us."

And it is all done with your tax dollars, in your name.

intro? vert?

2006-11-28T21:35:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm turning into an introvert, I'm not sure. I'm not really sure what it's like to be an introvert, and sometimes I have a hard time identifying them, so I really don't know whether I'm morphing into one or not. But tonight, as I was sitting in a cramped seat in a room crammed with people talking and laughing, I found myself feeling less and less energized, until finally, by the end, I was so tired I wanted to take a nap right there. Maybe it's just sleep depervation or temperature of the room (it felt like 100 degrees). Or maybe that I didn't know many of them. All those things. But, for one moment at least, I found myself comiserating with the introverted soul.

Thanksgiving came and went...and now we are strattling that time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, with Advent just around the corner. I'm going to enjoy Advent this year, though the change of Church seasons is only going to make the absence of Christ Church in my life more pronounced. I've forgotten how much I enjoyed Christ Church and now that I'm no longer part of a regular church community of my own, I feel even more hungry for the liturgy, the sites and sounds and smells of a high church Anglo-Catholic service. The Catholic church where I go now is as low as it gets with the priests still wearing their vestments. And we do Communion at the front, not in the middle like some new-agey Catholic churches. I don't think I have an opinion on this either way. But, again, despite the fact I am going to a Catholic church, I find myself missing the pomp and circumstance of Christ Church, the feeling of mystery and awe the accompanies high liturgies.

Melissa and Jacob were home for the holiday which was a lot of fun, and Gwyn was here for a bit as well which was really nice. We talked a lot about the wedding and did some shopping and were able to cross some things off the list. We even visited the reception site which, in the end, is a pretty nice place, considering it is at a fire station (!). I pick up my bridesmaid dress tomorrow...hopefully it fits better. Still so much to plan and to think about. And Christmas is coming up. I have a feeling we won't even notice. We will be too preoccupied with what's going on post-Christmas, I can tell that much.

I think it's time for a post-l'Arche-celebration beer and an episode of the Colbert Report, a bi-weekly ritual in our household, it seems. Frtiz is scolding Eduardo (who is already in bed) to "Be careful. Don't do that. Not funny. Behave." because the bathroom floor is wet after his shower. I feel that. I hate walking into bathrooms with wet floors when I'm wearing socks. I don't think Fritz realizes he's talking to a wall, because Eduardo's already snoaring. Hilarious. Time for a beer.

A short visit...

2006-11-22T07:54:00.000-05:00

Steve came in on Sunday and just left today, Tuesday, so it was a short visit. I'm really glad he was able to come down and "experience" l'Arche here in Arlington, especially because he has something to compare it to. He said this house had a similar feel, which supports the theory that l'Arche is similar all over the country, if not the world. But, it also has it's own culture. And we've only been open for a few months. Seems hard to believe I'm approaching my three month point!

We hung around Arlington on Sunday night. I took him to Murky Coffee, one of my favorite haunts, and we ate out in Clarendon. Then we came home and drank some wine with Dottie, Mandy, and Debbie and talked about life while eating goldfish. On Monday, we went into DC and perused the Natural History, Air and Space, and Holocaust museums. The last was, of course, the most intense. I remember going once when I was a senior in high school. And I think once was enough. Those images don't leave your mind for a long time. The museum is doing a lot of advocacy work for Darfur and the genocide going on over there. They projected pictures of the Darfur region on the side of the building so that cars passing by could see them. Pretty powerful.

Then, this morning, Steve and I had breakfast and talked about future hopes and future plans. Egypt! Grad school! Who knows! We both reflected on the fact that someday we hope to all be back together again, living with eachother or near eachother on our own plot of land where we grow our own vegetables and sew our own clothes and harvest the energy of the sun to run our electric appliances (if we have any). I really could see all of us going off and having these adventures over seas, or stacking up a few grad-degrees, or moving here and there for different jobs...and then once that is out of our system, congregating back into one place again where we can live daily life together. Devon sent me a letter from Italy with the same sentiments. It really is hard to live your life so closely with others during such a formative period of your early adult years, and then have to leave...just because it's the "normal" thing to do. I don't know if I'll ever adjust. And I don't know if I'll have make friends like I did in college. I'll make friends, but my relationships with them will be different. Not good or bad. Just not the same.

It seems like Steve really "found" his soul in l'Arche, as he put it. L'Arche is a place of peace, of acceptance, and it's hard to leave places of refuge like these for the outer world that's scary and uninviting. L'Arche homes really are witnesses of peace to the larger society, particularly our war-obsessed one. We are not called to be sectarian, but we are also not called to conform to the mainstream. We are called to something different, a place where we can be ourselves and be with eachother.

I wonder if I could make it to Egypt before graduate school started. Hmm. Or for the Spring. Devon and Lex want me to come to France. A second annual Lex/Dev/Heath trip to Europe! I love the idea! That could become an expensive tradition.

I've been doing the mornings a lot this week which are never easy, but aren't that hard after I initially wake up. It's those first few moments of hearing the alarm that are the worst. Then, it's rise and shine. And shower time.

I will be home for Thanksgiving until Sunday night. I am on Monday morning (a pattern?). I look forward to seeing M and J, and to cooking a serious amount and perhaps baking some bread. This time last year I was flying to Portland to spend Thanksgiving at l'Arche. Now I'm here. It seems ages ago. I remember initially being totally freaked out by the idea of living with the developmentally disabled. I mean who in their right mind chooses to live with people who are awkward, medically fragile, strange? But then again, who in their right mind wouldn't want to live with people who love to laugh, who don't judge by appearance, who have open hearts? We so often choose to surround ourselves with people who make us feel bad about ourselves, or we surround ourselves with no one at all. Now that seems unwise. Stupid, in fact.

At least 4 times a day, Hazel will say to me, "I like you. I like you." She always wants to remind me that she likes me. I don't know many people who would be that vulnerable. But Hazel does this naturally. She justs wants you to know that she likes you. And that's really it.

Trying to balance the world...

2006-11-10T23:41:00.000-05:00

I've always liked an integrated life. It makes me feel less hypocritical, more consistent. I don't have a strong desire for personal space or privacy; I'm an open book about most things and am (overly?) interested in the lives of people around me. I want this friend to be friends with that friend and my parents to be a part of my social life -- and I don't usually feel comfortable until this happens. I really try hard to avoid a segmented life. I'd much prefer overlap.

But these days, it's hard to have an integrated life. My sister is in Portland. My friends are scattered through out the country and very few of them have been able to witness this "thing" that is l'Arche. I am making plans for school next year but have no connection to those institutions, unless you want to count more distant connections through my sister or my dad. I'm trying to study for the GRE while trying also to "live l'Arche" ... and the two don't really fit together. And, there's also my sister's wedding in January to plan for. Lots of little fragments that don't really fit together, no matter how much I try.

I think some people enjoy having multiple lives, either consecutively or simultaneously. They act this way when they are at work and then this way when they are at home. They have 3 sets of friends. They have multiple personalities. They can easily get up and go with out looking back, forming a new life somewhere else. But this isn't how I work. I like everything to fit together, like some giant, meaningful puzzle. But trying to fit all the pieces together is exhausting. I'm trying to balance the world...a very complex world at that.

Maybe that's why my faith has, at times, felt so fragile. I want everything to fit together, but there are some pieces that just don't fit and don't belong. This is the problem with being an idealist (which I am occasional embarrassed to reveal about myself). Idealists are forced to run around this crazy, messed up, complicated world with a mental/emotional/spiritual picture inside their head of That Which Should Be. They want roses and get weeds in return. I'm not asking that the whole world make sense. I'm just asking that some meaning or pattern or shape would take form out of all the chaos. I don't think that's too much to ask....though sometimes that seems like an impossible request. I don't even need to know what it's all goign to look like in the end. I'll never understand why some Christians get so worked up on the "End Times." They have it all mapped out, down to the months and years. Pre-trib, post-trib, blah blah. What the heck? I'm not asking to know all that! I just want to know that there IS meaning, even if I never figure out what it is! That is what ultimately will bring me comfort....knowing I'm in the midst of some massive puzzle slowly being put together. It's shape and form isn't as important as it's very existence. This is where faith comes in. Believing without seeing. Moving forward without knowing the way.

50s house wife

2006-10-30T22:02:00.000-05:00

Because I feel a bit like a 50s housewife, I felt it only appropriate to dress up as one for Halloween - high heels and an apron, curlers and a broom, and a vintage Ladies Home Journal with a diminutive-looking, doe-eyed woman on the front with tips such as "How to make your marriage last" and "Simple knit patterns for home." Yes, it's tongue-and-cheek, and the whole housewife image seems somewhat anacronystic in this day and age. But feminism, like most ideas we encounter, requires flexibility. I've journeyed from Elizabeth Eliot and Josh Harris to Betty Frieden and bell hooks to Ivy George and Margie DeWeese-Boyd (who are real, live people actually living out their ideas which I've been able to witness). Feminism is not "Have sex whenever with whomever" or "Kill men" or "Climb the corporate latter," at least not the feminism I admire. Maybe it's not even about feminism any more as much as it is about justice peace-making...in our homes, in our communities, in our nations. Male or female, we are called to surrender our egos, give to those in need, advocate for the marginalized, create peace where there is strife, love children, enjoy life's blessings, protect the earth. I guess traditionally, a lot of these things were considered the work of women. But isn't this what we are called to do as Christians, as followers of Jesus?

Ephemeral

2006-10-06T22:21:00.000-04:00

For the past few years, I have come to realize that life is in fact ephemeral, that I am not invincible or immortal, that I and those whom I love and all those whom I don't love or don't even know will pass away. Life is short. This is a pithy statement, almost trite in its simplicity. But it's true. Life is ephemeral -- fleeting, lasting only a short time, gone in a flash. We in the West have a really hard time with this axiom. We do whatever it takes to beat death, to ignore it or deny it. We take off fat here and inject it there; we lift this and that to fight gravity; we implant chins and breasts and calf muscles (I kid you not). We dye our hair, have children at age 48, and avoid telling anyone our real age. "Old" is considered an offensive adjective, so we use words like "senior" or "mature" or "elderly." There is no place in our society for old people to be revered for their age. Even retirement communities boast about enabling their residents to feel "young again." What is so awful, so painful, about being old? Well, for one thing, getting old means bodily deterioration (which we try to deny by the above procedures, some invasive and some superficial). It means mental deterioration (for some, though not all). It means no longer being able to work, to have a source of income (of all those living under the poverty line, most are over 65). It means losing control, whether financially, or no longer driving a car. It means burdening others with your dependency. This is why we don't value the well-aged in our great nation, or in the West in general. Senior citizens are more dependent and less useful, and they remind us that we, someday, will not be young and plump and sexually appealing. One day, that will be right around the corner, so close we can taste it. Death is always around the corner, no matter our age, but when your years are numbered, you no longer have the energy to deny it.

This pontification has a point. And the point I'm trying to make is this. Someday, we are all going to die. And yet our own deaths are the least talked about aspect of our lives. Some of us may die young. Some well into our 80s or 90s. But we will all pass away. Now, given that we live in a society that could care less about bodies and minds work slowly or awkwardly, if they work at all (this encompasses the elderly and the developmentally and physically disabled), shouldn't we be focused on cultivating communities that ALLOW for marginalized bodies, marginalized minds? Ultimately, I think it's the role of the Church to care for those whom society has forgotten or neglected. The Church is a kingdom for the lost, the awkward, the weird, the socially inappropriate. I really do think l'Arche is a manifestation of the Church's care for the marginalized. Here in l'Arche bodies and minds don't work the same as they do in the outside world. Socks aren't always put on straight. Milk sometimes spills on the counter. Teeth are crooked and laughter is loud. But here, bodies can be bodies, not machines for production or sex appeal but bodies created by a living and loving God. People live in l'Arche and they die in l'Arche, all the while knowing that they have a safe place, a place of peace and acceptance, where they can live out their existences without fear of rejection because they can't produce, can't attract, can't speak with finesse or walk in a smooth manner.

The Church works in the subtle ways, I hear. And l'Arche is very subtle, a seed scattered on the ground and taking root ever so slowly. I think there are a lot of these seeds being planted and eventually bearing the fruit of the Gospel. With l'Arche, I don't have to be afraid of death or handicap or age. Life is still short, of course, but it tastes sweeter, more meaningful, when you know there are those who will take care you when your body or your mind stop working as they normally would. My heart breaks to think of all those who've lived out their lives at institutions, as disabled children, elderly men and women. Those nameless, faceless wastelands where people die long before their hearts stop beating. Some of those folks have found their way to l'Arche, praise God, but bear the scars of those years on their souls. Others will never find a way out. And now knowing how short life actually is, I realize that any time not spent in community with loving relationships is time wasted. And I find my heart aching for those who've spent most of their lives alone. Because in a flash, we will be 83, wondering where the time has gone to, wondering when life will actually get started, until we realized we've lived it already. I want to be able to get to that age and be able to look back and say, "What a life well lived, rich in relationships and in experience." This is my hope and my prayer, and my hope and prayer for all people who walk this planet.

There and back again...

2006-09-30T00:18:00.000-04:00

I am back this week from a few does on the North Shore...a short and very sweet visit. How I love Massachusetts...and the people that happen to reside there at this moment in life. A few Capt Dusty's runs, some Sugar Magnolia's, lots of Singing Beach, and a fair amount of drinks -- the North Shore at its best. Lex was gracious enough to allow me to stay in her freshly-moved-in room, and even kick her out of her bed. We went to the movies twice on Saturday which was hilarious. No regrets, of course. And I was able to see John's new place and hang out with Pete and Gina (and their unborn baby boy). And Matt and Josh's lovely place. And Bethany's little apartment. We're all growing up...living on our own now.

We went into Boston and had delish Vietnamese food and went to a bar near Harvard. After ordering our drinks and sipping about half, the fire alarm went off and we filed out side, without our drinks. After ten minutes and a host of firemen (firetrons?) heading into the building, we attempted to pay our waiter for our drinks (we are SUCH Gordon students) and, when we had no luck, we bolted. Jenna was our get-away car driver. She took us to an oovy-groovy lounge which we enjoyed, even with all the "atmosphere."

We were able to see Devon off before her plane ride to Europe where she'll be for the next 9 months. Nine months. When we were in college, that would have seemed like so long. And, relatively, it is quite a chunk of time. But...in the grand scheme of it all, I bet it will fly by, at least for her. I'm so glad she's able to go back to Italy and enjoy life there. I gave her a book on French customs and traditions so she could be somewhat prepared for her time there come January. And, though I'm hoping to see Steve before he takes off for Egypt, we were able to hang out extensively and talk about l'Arche and life. He's adjusting to life in l'Arche as I am, which is a nice feeling of solidarity. Come late December, he'll be flying to Egypt for the year!

Man...all this talk of travel makes me want to get up and go again. Lex and I were having dinner with Laurie (from Gordon's chapel office) and she was telling us about her trip to Ethiopia over the summer. Just the mere mention of Eastern Africa had me itching to go back, and Lex felt the same. She and I really need to get out asses over there as soon as humanly and financially possible. It's so strange how one seemingly small experience, like studying abroad for 5 months in Uganda, can remain imprinted in your brain as if no time has passed. That was, what, 2004? We are heading into 2007. And yet I have moments, once or twice a month, where I have a flash back to my time in Uganda. When I was up in Hamilton, walking along a path next to a lake, the clouds brewing a storm above, the humidity of Eastern Massachusetts hanging in the air, all I could think was, "I'm in Uganda."

I was there for 5 months. Why do I have so memories of that short experience compared to my memories of high school? My parents and I went to an Osbourn High School football game tonight for "old time's sake." I wasn't psyched about the idea...high school seems like ages ago, and it's always uncomfortable to run into those people whom you've forgotten their name, their connection to you, or what have you. It's been a long enough time, 8 years now, that few if any of my classmates were around. So...no awkward interactions. But, anyway, as I was sitting in the bleachers, listening the marching band play and watching the field, I could hardly conjure up enough high school memories to count on one hand. I spent 4 rather formative years of my life in that school. I walked on that field for homecoming.....I loitered under the bleachers with friends.....I ate lunch on the grass. So so strange that none of those memories stuck with me as vividly, as viscerally as my experience in Uganda.

Some could argue that high school was so long ago...that so much has happened since then that those old memories have faded and been replaced by new ones. Sure. This could be true. But even experiences I've had AFTER Uganda. I have a hard time recalling in the same lucid manner. I do not walk down a certain road or eat a certain dish and think "Romania." Well, I have on occasion...but those occasions are decreasing at a rapid rate. My experience in Romania didn't exactly "stick" like Uganda. I can look at pictures and read old journal entries, but I don't have the feelings and emotions associated with those things. And that's very strange. That was less than a year ago.

My time at l'Arche has officially started as of yesterday, though today I am on my "day away," as well as tomorrow. It's nice to have this time off to see my parents. We are headed to an orchard tomorrow for some apples, and then seeing "A Prayer for Owen Meany" tomorrow night in Bethesda -- quite possibly my favorite book adapted for the stage. I might bawl. Then, on again for Sunday! Still lots of stuff to learn, people to acquaint myself with, routines to learn. With every passing week, things will feel more normal, easier, natural. But for now, things are crazy!! And my room is, though monastic in size, full of character. I'm thinking...Christmas lights?

I miss...

2006-09-15T00:03:00.000-04:00

My sister
Jacob
Portland
My friends
Gordon
Dana and Brandi and Briana (in Romania)
Diana and Cornel and Victor (in Romania)
Public transportation
The woods
Non-Starbucks coffee shops
Farmers markets
Uganda
Happy and Gayo (in Uganda)

The start of another chapter...

2006-09-09T21:36:00.000-04:00

Well...it's clear I'm not in Oregon anymore, so my URL is a bit irrelevant. But, I still have the sensation that I am falling into the "Great Beyond," which feels something like what the unfortunate astronaught in those sci-fi movies must have experienced when her safety line is tragically severed in some freak accident and she is sent whurrling head over heels into space. I'm surprised scenes like that never gave me nightmares as a kid. Yeesh.

The feelings of "weightlessness"....better described as "planlessness," have subsided a bit now that I have a plan. My home until next summer will be 413 S Highland St, Arlington, with the occassional weekly jaunt home to Kamlea Dr. I visited the house for the first time tonight and was able to meet some of the folks and some of the assistants. It's such a new house - it's only officially been opened since August 28th, and two of the core members haven't moved in yet! But, I was able to meet Hazel and Fritz, who are cool for many reasons but especially because their names have a "z" in them. And Diane, the community coordinator, was great to talk to...and John, the DC community director, is a great guy. I felt excited about it all...and hope to get my l'Arche on soon, by the end of September.

I'm still getting over my jet-lag. I spent most of the day feeling defeated and caffiene-insensitive. I hope to get more sleep tomorrow. And, I hope to buy tickets soon for a short trip up to the Massachusetts area to see friends. For this, I am excited! But not about flying....bleh.

Photos of roses....

2006-09-08T09:20:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures I took at the Portland Rose Gardens when my family was in town. Flowers are my favorite things to take pictures of because they practically take themselves.

Back in EST...

2006-09-08T01:06:00.000-04:00

I love Eastern Standard Time. And I'm glad to be back in it. It feels natural, and comfortable, like a good, worn-in shoe. Pacific Time was classy and fresh, but felt uncomfortable, more of a high-heeled boot, in keeping with the analogy. Billy Collins wrote a poem about EST in his book The Trouble With Poetry. My copy is in Romania, with Brandi Bates, and I hope it is bringing her much gladness. Here is the poem, aptly entitled, "Eastern Standard Time":

Poetry speaks to all people, it is said,
but here I would like to address
only those in my own time zone,
this proper slice of longitude
that runs from pole to snowy pole
down the globe through Montreal to Bogota.

Oh, fellow inhabitants of this singular band,
sitting up in your many beds this morningÂ
the sun falling through the windows
and casting a shadow on the sundialÂ
consider those in other zones who cannot hear these words.

They are not slipping into a bathrobe as we are,
or following the smell of coffee in a timely fashion.

Rather, they are at work already,
leaning on copy machines,
hammering nails into a house-frame.

They are not swallowing a vitamin like us;
rather they are smoking a cigarette under a half moon,
even jumping around on a dance floor,
or just now sliding under the covers,
pulling down the little chains on their bed lamps.

But we are not like these others,
for at this very moment on the face of the earth,
we are standing under a hot shower,

or we are eating our breakfast,
considered by people of all zones
to be the most important meal of the day.

Later, when the time is right,
we might sit down with the boss,
wash the car, or linger at a candle-lit table,
but now is the hour for pouring the juice
and flipping the eggs with one eye on the toaster.

So let us slice a banana and uncap the jam,
lift our brimming spoons of milk,
and leave it to the others to lower a flag
or spin absurdly in a barberÂs chairÂ
those antipodal oddballs, always early or late.

Let us praise Sir Stanford Fleming,
the Canadian genius who first scored
with these lines the length of the spinning earth.

Let us move together through the rest of this day
passing in unison from light to shadow,
coasting over the crest of noon
into the valley of the evening
and then, holding hands, slip into the deeper valley of night.

Back to school? Not so much...

2006-09-01T12:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, as I was walking over to the Nehalem House in the morning, I could sense that the summer was on its way out, and that autumn was creeping in, covertly in some parts of the country, overtly in others. Fall is my favorite season for a number of reasons, so the prospect of summer ending doesn't have me too upset. I love the brisk-but-not-too-cold weather, the transformation of the trees from green to gold and orange and maroon, apple-picking and pie-making, Halloween and Thanksgiving. But another thing I really love about Fall is that it means school is starting up again -- new classes, fresh text books, and a reunion with all those people whom I've missed during the summer months. When I was walking yesterday morning, I had a profound sense of saddness, a sense of "loss," that such a reunion at the end of the summer is no longer inevitable. We're done. We're graduated. That's it. There's no longer a mutual point where we will all congregate come late August. Instead, we are scattered about here and there, everywhere.

This time last year, I was moving into the Hull St House. I remember Sam slept on the living room floor on his big inflatable mattress because I didn't want to be alone. I was finishing up my time at Russell Orchards, squeezing in a few more trips to the beach, and getting mentally ready for classes again. I remember when Devon and Lex and Bethany and Ray came, how our stuff was everywhere, and Devon and I kept rearranging the living room furniture over and over again. And I remember watching an entire season of Lost in about two sittings. Hilarious memories (and bittersweet ones) from the Hull St House.

Fall has always been a season of change. The warm weather packs up and heads south, the cold weather slowly moves in. Out come the jeans and sweaters. The landscape changes, the crops are harvested. But for the last four years, fall meant continuity, heading back home to Gordon to live once again with friends. This year, fall really will mean change. It's times like these that help me remember what I am thankful for, for all the memories made and friendships crafted over the years. Of course, there was a time when Gordon was new, foriegn. And it soon became home. And there was a time when Portland was foriegn, when l'Arche was foriegn.

We all ease into our environments over time...I haven't lived in the same bed for more than a year since I was in highschool. Just in the past few months, I've moved from my room in Evans during last summer to the Hull St House to home in VA to Romania to Hull St again to VA again to Portland, and now back to VA. All this moving and transition makes me feel like a nomad. Just this summer, I lived three days at one house, two days at the next, two days at Jacob's. Here there and everywhere.

Though I am indeed not going back to school this August (in fact, it's already started for most), it is a relief not to be back in class and over-involved in this or that activity. I have slept more this summer than all my years in college combined. I have been able to read at my own place, learn through experience, and see another part of the country. It will be good to have this time away before heading back in to school come next fall.

Random note to self: buy the new Outkast cd. Jordan (Jacob's cousin) is playing it outside my door and I'm enjoying it immensely.

On that random note, I'm out. Time to chill with the folks.

l'Arche Northern Virginia!

2006-08-30T12:24:00.000-04:00

Interesting how life works, how God works. Just a few weeks I felt up a creek, not sure of what to do next or which direction to take. I was in the process of applying to l'Arche Tahoma Hope in Tacoma, WA, and the idea of having to drive all the way back across country was a little unsettling, mainly because I would probably have done it by myself. My original plan to go to DC l'Arche just felt...right. I could be close to home and see my parents on my days away. I could interview at schools where I'm hoping to attend next year (all of which are on the East Coast). I could help my mom with planning for my sister's wedding. I could fly up to Boston to see some friends (which is a short jaunt compared to the tortuous flight across country). All those things made me feel especially bummed when l'Arche DC informed me that they had already filled their late August position.

Then...just a few days ago, as I was filling out my application to l'Arche Tahoma, I get an email from l'Arche DC, saying they have an unexpected opening in late September and they want to start the interview process right away! I have so far done two phone interviews which have both gone well. It really helps that I've been living in a l'Arche community for the past 3 months. I'm sold on the philosophy and have had the practical experience. Turns out, they are opening a new house in Arlington, Virginia, and I would be living there instead of one of the DC l'Arche houses. This had me slightly bummed (I was so looking forward to living in the city!) but Arlington is so close and a very cool town. I am happy!

Again, I say, interesting how God works. So, come September 6th to July of 2007, looks like I'll be living in Virginia! As one can imagine, my parents are ecstatic. My mom has been doing celebratory dances for about a week. Arlington is just across the river from DC which will make going into the city an easy thing. This is a little snippet I got from the DC l'Arche website: "To double the size of the L’Arche community, L’Arche is expanding into Northern Virginia where we will welcome eight additional people with developmental disabilities. L’Arche purchased two homes in Arlington Virginia in June 2004 and plans to open the first new home this summer when renovations are complete."

At this point, I am trying to transition out of my time here at l'Arche Nehalem with grace. I was reflecting back on when I first came, how new and overwhelming everything felt. Now, there hardly seems a time when I wasn't living here and living the l'Arche life. I take off in about a week, on September 6th. Portland has been such an interesting place to live, and I am really glad I was able to spend a lot of time with Melissa and Jacob while I was here. I could see myself coming back to the Northwest sometime in the near future. It's a beautiful part of the country, for sure. Funny that I will be going from one of the hippiest, crunchy, enviro-local friendly, peacenik towns in the country to Arlington, VA, home of a dozen war memorials and Army/Navy sites. Sigh. It will have a different feel, for sure.

OK....I am on today at 12 which means time to go to the Bipartisan for some coffee. A morning ritual.

And here are some photos of the Oregon coast

2006-08-23T13:01:00.000-04:00

Photos from our trip to Long Beach

2006-08-23T12:42:00.000-04:00

This is a replica of the tree William Clark carved in when he visited Long Beach on the very last leg of this journey out West. It says, "William Clark, November 19, 1805, by land from the U States." Strange to think that WA wasn't a State at that point.

We hiked a bit through the forest...

Jacob "discovering" the William Clark tree...

We went in search what remained of the great civilization, the Chinook Nation, that once lived in that area of Washington. All we found was this run-down, one room office...it wasn't opened when we went.

Northwest beaches are wild places. The Pacific Ocean is so vast, so unpredictable. And we found these clumps of seaweed that literally looked other-worldly.

You win some, you lose some

2006-08-14T01:26:00.000-04:00

Well...as I suspected, you can never really plan too far ahead. Once you are sure of something, once you've written it in stone, something changes and you find youself back to square one. Or at least I do. I worry and fret and fuss and moan, only to find that worrying and fretting and fussing and moaning did nothing to give me control. They just stressed me out. Planning in general stresses me. This is why I hate packing.....too many decisions to make and not enough knowledge to run on. Will it rain? Do I need a swim suit? What about sunscreen? Blah blah. Soon...you find youself lugging 7 suitcases behind you on the way to the airport. Or, you find youself freezing cold in a hail storm in the middle of July because, for some reason, you forgot to pack your fleece-lined winter jacket for your trip to the beach.

All this being said, l'Arche DC has already filled their open position for the Fall (they neglected to tell me this). And, their next available position is in December, some ways away. So, it looks like DC is out and we are back to where we began: What to do starting September. I have some ideas, but nothing that involves actually getting hired somewhere and getting a real salary. Is this a surprise? L'Arche Tahoma Hope (in Tacoma, WA) is hiring for a new assistant and Melissa knows the community coordinator quite well. I definitely have an "in" there if I wanted it. She got to know some of the core members and assistants this weekend at Regional Gathering and really liked them. Tahoma Hope is the only l'Arche community in the US that is also a farm. Several communities in France have farms, but it is a new idea in the States. Last weekend we went up there for a BBQ and I was able to see the farm and meet some of the folks there and tour the grounds. They have a chapel which I thought was really beautiful and a lot of space to walk around. I liked it there. So, I could potentially join l'Arche Tahoma for a bit, at least until next July or something.

Also, I've thought about doing something temporary (who knows what) until January and then heading back to Romania until the summer. I could raise the money pretty easily, and I would be a big help to Dana in terms of helping to organize the social work internship and getting the study abroad program off the ground. There's a lot of work there to be done, and Dana and Brandi and Briana are three of my favorite people on the planet. This is, of course, a non-money-making option, but I don't really expect to be making money until after a grad degree (Ha! getting a job with an MTS??).

Anyway, the parents are coming to town (Florers and Bixlers) this week and I am in the midst of trying to plan Melissa's picnic shower for Thursday. Doesn't look like a lot of folks will be able to come which is unfortunate. Thursday isn't the most popular day of the week, I guess.

Since Melissa was up in Spokane this weekend at Regional Gathering, Jacob and I drove up to Long Beach, Washington (Kite Capital of the world?) and stayed with Tim and a large portion of his extended family at their beach house. It was really nice to get away and meet some new people. The house they were renting for the week was literally right next to the ocean....you could see it from the upstairs windows. And it was huge! But, nonetheless, there were 15 people in a house that supposed to fit 9. At night, there was hardly a square inch to be found...people were sleeping on the floor, on the couches, in all the rooms. Tim and Jacob pitched a tent down the road and slept there. There were cousins and nephews and sisters and aunts and Grandma Roth, the matriarch. We raced go-carts in town (my testosterone levels went way up after we raced) and played a lot of video games (Mario-kart!) and played Clue like it was our job and walked on the beach. It was really a nice time, and I really enjoyed getting to know Tim better. He is a high-quality human being.

potentially, a new plan....

2006-08-02T22:55:00.000-04:00

I've thought more and more about studying theology next year. I feel like having a solid foundation in theology, philosophy, and Christian ethics would be a great stepping stone for other things, like social work or international development, etc. I know I went to a Christian undergrad, but Gordon did more to turn me off to the study of theology than excite me about it. Sad to say, but true.

Yes, yes, a change of plans. Melissa has been trying to convince me for some time that I would really enjoy the Divinity School at Duke, but I persisted. I mean, I have to individuate sometime...can I really continue to follow my sister everywhere? Anyway, not exactly the best reason to avoid Duke as a potential grad school, that's for sure. When I actually sat down and looked at the course listings, I got really excited. And an MTS (Masters of Theological Study) provides a lot of freedom within the curriculum. Only a few Bible core, some church history, but otherwise...it's electives galore. And, there are some pretty sweet concentrations: Ethics, Black Church studies, and the Global Church all look especially interesting.

This link pretty much says it all. Duke Divinity even does a pilgrimage to Uganda and Rwanda each summer! https://exchange.gordon.edu/exchweb/bin/redir.asp?URL=http://www.divinity.duke.edu/programs/bcs/gatherings/summer2006.pdf

I've listed some courses and their descriptions below, the ones the specifically peaked my interest.

Biblical Studies

145. To Work and Watch: Toward a Biblical Ecology/Theology of Land. The aims of this course are to: 1. Explore ancient Israel’s theological understandings of land tenure and use, and further, to explore how land is a crucial element in the relations between humanity and the other creatures, on the one hand, humanity and God, on the other. 2. To engage in a serious rereading of the biblical text in light of the contemporary ecological crisis. 3. To identify ideologies of land tenure and usage that are operative in contemporary societies, including our own, and to examine them critically in light of the biblical text and the present crisis.
270. Paul’s "Mother Tongue:" Interpreting and Approaching Paul’s Parental Metaphors. This course aims at recovering Paul’s "mother tongue" through a close reading of his parental metaphors, with particular attention to his use of maternal imagery. The course attends to the background of that imagery in prophetic and apocalyptic literature, as well as appropriations in the early church. The course will include readings in metaphor theory, exegesis of selected texts, and reflection on both destructive and constructive ways that parental metaphors function in the church today.

Christian Theology

210. Theology, Justice and the Intellectual Life. Can theology intervene in the world to diagnose its injustices and to chart intellectual paths toward remedying them – or is it an impediment to justice? The course probes this question by examining the intellectual life first in its classical, theological framework, where justice and the intellectual life were unified in a singular theological project, and then in its more recent guise, which assumes that only a "de-theologized" intellectual life can adequately diagnose what ails the world. The course considers the works of Arendt, Heidegger, Foucault, and W.E.B. Du Bois.
265. The Significance of Memory. Theological and Ecclesial Perspectives. Explores memory as a communal performance that has implications for how we understand life in the world. Through examining the church as a community of memory, it narrates how Christians remember the past and the importance of liturgical memory for understanding the present and future. The course highlights how Christians and social groups can remember truthfully in life-affirming rather than life-denying ways by suggesting how liturgical remembering might shape how we remember the wrongs inflicted and suffered in daily life.

Ethics

205. War in the Christian Tradition. An analysis of how Christians have understood and evaluated war. Particular attention to the question of whether war should not be regarded as a positive moral good. Works by Augustine, Aquinas, Bainton, Ramsey, Childress, Niebuhr, and Johnson will be considered.

251. Goodness and Personhood. Concepts of "the good" are inextricably linked to the way in which personhood is understood. This seminar treats texts both ancient and recent that address such issues as the relationship between the finitude of human life and its meaningfulness, the metaphors of the "inner" life and "centeredness," the differences and affinities between reason and desire, and the significance of the notions of presence and transcendence. Authors include the writers of the Song of Songs and Job, Plato, Augustine of Hippo, Iris Murdoch, and Martha Nussbaum
296. Community, Faith, and Violence. This seminar explores attempts to formulate fundamentally theological modes of social and political criticism with the focus on the role of faith and violence in secular society. Readings include works by theologians, social critics, and political theorists.

Black Church Studies

128. The Life and Thought of Martin Luther King, Jr. An examination of the life of Martin Luther King, Jr., his theology, and his continuing influence on the church’s ministry.
230. Theology and the Black Activist Tradition. At the methodological center of the tradition of black radicalism is a certain understanding of the (black) intellectual and his or her task. This course examines this center from the vantage of religion and theology. It will do so by considering this tradition’s formation, on the one hand, and the meaning of the intellectual, who is a central figure in it, on the other. In this sense, the course seeks religiously and theologically to intervene into the question of the so-called crisis of the black intellectual with a view to showing it to be, in many respects, a "crisis of intellectuality" (academic, ministerial, and otherwise) as such. Central to our inquiry will be the religious meaning of the figure of W. E. B. Du Bois.
260. Suffering, Evil, and Redemption in Black Theology. Explores the black Christian Tradition with respect to the problem of suffering and evil in black life. Against the backdrop of evil in church history, the course provides a historic overview of perspectives on suffering and redemption articulated by African American Christians such as Maria Stewart and Martin Luther King Jr.

World Christianity

200. The Faces of Jesus in Africa. The course will seek to explore and highlight the assumptions underlying the various constructions of ‘the Faces of Jesus’ within African theology. In particular, the social, historical and theological factors surrounding African Enculturation, Liberation and Feminist Christologies respectively will be examined. The goal of the course will be to lead students to a better appreciation of the complexity of African culture in general, of the challenges facing African Christians today in particular.

211. Healing in the Developing World and Care of the Underserved: Medical and Theological Considerations. The course pays particular attention to issues of religion, especially the ways in which an appreciation of religious and theological issues can be helpful in developing a noncolonial perspective when providing care in a developing country or with the underserved in the USA. The development of health ministries crossculturally will be a theme throughout the course.
240. Postcolonial Identities and Theologies in Africa. This course will provide an overview of the current trends in African theological philosophical thought, especially those relating to or built around the notion of (post)-colonial identity.
245. The Rwanda Genocide and the Challenge for the Church. The course explores the events and ‘reasons’ surrounding the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, from both a historical and theological perspective. The current ‘explanations’ for the genocide are critically analyzed and discussed with a view of raising wider issues relating to African history, memory and violence on the one hand, the church’s social role in Africa on the other.

255. Journeys of Reconciliation. This course not only seeks to highlight why reconciliation matters for Christians (it is at the heart of the Gospel), but also displays how and in what ways it matters by exploring the key convictions that sustain a Christian understanding and practice of reconciliation. The course approaches reconciliation as a journey – a set of journeys – through which the Christian is invited to become part of God’s new creation.

movie theatres and church services

2006-07-24T02:03:00.000-04:00

Perhaps one of my favorite things about l'Arche is being able to spend one-on-one time with the core members. The l'Arche model really encourages this because it is these moments that create bonds between the core members and the assistants. Yesterday, I took Joanni to the theatre down the road to see the computer animated feature, "Over the Hedge," which was a lot of fun. She loved the movie and managed to stay relatively quiet (a good thing, because the movie theatre was packed). Joanni, like any two-year-old, has trouble with self-control, so if she sees a bear or a dog, she wants to communicate that to you wherever you happen to be. This wouldn't be a problem if 1)Joanni weren't so big and 2) her signs and noises weren't so loud or overwhelming. Her bear sign is a loud growling noise (only appropriate) that is considered sweet at home, but can be rather terrifying for a stranger walking by. She also loves to touch things, and people, including strangers. I have to remind her to be gentle and not to touch people she doesn't know. Joanni is the sweetest lamb on earth, but if I didn't know her, I would be afraid for sure.

Erin was able to go to the Mennonite church with us this morning, also enjoyable. Erin loves to talk, though she isnt always intelligable (according to us) and she becomes fixated on certain things and continues to talk about them for a long time. She loves hamburgers, so throughout the service, she would say things like, "Want hamburger. Want hamburger." or she would look at me and say "Hi Heather. Hi Heather." I tend to think Erin is a riot, also very sweet and lovable, but it's a bit tough when you are in church. Honestly, though, maybe your average church service shouldn't be so rigid that folks like Erin and Joanni would cause a scene. I mean, church is about a diverse body of believers who are joined together by a common faith in and emulation of Christ. As Christians, we are called to embrace diversity, to recognize that God has not made us all the same with the same abilities, the same mannerisms. Fortunately, the Mennonite church where we go knows about l'Arche and have enjoyed getting to know the core members we've brought with us to the services. It is a loving, unpretentious congregation, a family. But, I know of plenty of churches where Erin and Joanni's habits and ways of communicating would not go over well. I can only imagine the type of glares they would get sitting in certain congregations. It would probably be no different than the glares we were getting in the movie theatre. You know there's something wrong when you can't point out much difference between a church service and a movie showing in terms of the glares you receive when you are a bit loud or make a funny noise.

mornings = blar

2006-07-19T17:04:00.000-04:00

No matter how early I go to bed each night, waking up at the crack of dawn is never pleasant. I am a night owl...I think better at night, I often experience "second winds" around 10pm, sometimes even "third winds" if I am around other folks (which energizes me). Two days ago I got up at 6 to do the morning routine. This consists of getting everyone out of bed, brushing teeth, applying deodorant, dressing, brushing hair, fixing breakfast, dealing out morning medications, and getting them each on their bus when it arrives (between 7 and 8). It's a crazy morning...lots of energy and activity. I'm more used to a leisurely paced morning, waking around 9, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper, perhaps trying the crossword, eating a bowl of granola. I guess that means I need to find a job that starts late. Fortunately enough for me, I have found this job. Most of the time, my schedule doesn't require me to be on until 12:15, giving me all morning to mess around. I rarely have to do morning routines.
On my off hours, I've taken to walking up Mt Tabor which is down the road 10 or so blocks. All together, it's about a 3 mile walk, and there must be about 100 or so steps to get to the top of the mountain itself. Mt Tabor is not your "typical" mountain, one that you would picture when I say the word. It's nestled amongst developments, which makes it seem more of a hill than anything. But the upward slope itself remains untouched by developers. The Western side is covered in bike and hiking paths, and there is a paved road that curves all the way up to the top, which circles around and then leads you back down. It's a flat-topped mountain (a once-volcano) that is perfect for frisbee or a picnic, as there are plenty of benches. There's a wonderful view of Hawthorne St and downtown Portland and people gather at that point each night to watch the sunset. I've been up there almost every day for the past week. On Saturday, I went up twice. I really enjoy these walks...I usually bring a book or my journal, finding a nice warm spot in the sun, and laze away my day. I'm rarely alone -- bikers, runners, people walking their dogs, shmoozing couples -- but it would be nice to be there with a friend. Melissa sometimes walks with me, which is nice. But, most of the time, I'm by myself...this can be very draining for an extrovert.
I'm in the process of figuring out my future. Amy offered me a full time position here at l'Arche Portland, but I would have to commit a year and I'm not willing to do this. They will be short handed come September, so I may stay on a bit longer to do respite work. But, at this point, it doesn't look like I'll be staying on much longer, unless, of course, I find another job out here. Melissa keeps talking about renting a two-room house/apartment for her, Jacob, and I to live in. Imagine living as a single person with a newly-married couple. That could be a tv show.
The other option I've explored is living and working in l'Arche DC. On my off days, I could go home and visit my 'rents, which they would love. And, the DC community is located in Adams Morgan, a very interesting part of the city. Plus, l'Arche DC can afford to pay their assistants more -- not bad at all. I've emailed them my interest and I am hoping to hear back from them about what job opportunities are available between Sept and Jan, or Sept and the Spring.
Melissa and I are going to try to work on her and J's save-the-dates today which will involve much cutting and pasting, I do believe. I was off yesterday and spent a good chunk of time downtown by myself, reading in a park, browsing in Powell's books (the largest bookstore in the world!), hitting up Whole Foods. But, after so much time with myself, I look forward to being with other people.

Baseball game, wedding, and so on...

2006-07-14T14:50:00.001-04:00

Adam and I at a Beavers game...

Carla heading to the alter....

We were so close to the field!

Mom, me, Melissa, and Dad -- a Bixler family photo op.

Jacon and Melissa (with the sun in their eyes)

Searching for grad programs...

2006-07-13T21:31:00.000-04:00

I've begun the Great Search for graduate programs. At this point, a Masters in Social Work is the best option, as my advanced standing from Gordon will allow me to do it in much less than 2 years. And there are several great programs out there that offer an MSW with a concentration in international/community development. I have also looked at some sociology programs, as well.

I'll be updating this later, but so far, I have sent away for information from:

-Boston College (international MSW)
-Washington University, St Louis (international com. dev. MSW)
-Columbia University (MSW)
-Portland State University (MSW)
-Boston University (MSW, MA in Sociology of Religion)
-University of Wisconsin, Madison (MSW, MA in Sociology)
-University of Denver (MA in International Dev, international MSW)
-Brandeis University (MA in Sustainable Dev.)
-University of Michigan (MSW)
-University of California, Berkeley (MSW)

As one can see, I have hardly narrowed down my choices. I'm an ENFP...I love choices. It is my hope to enter into a program next Fall (2007) or January, depending on if I can get my act together or not. Most of these programs do not require the GRE, but it would be wise for me to take it, nonetheless.

Those are my thoughts-o-the-future for now. This list is by no means finalized.

My newly acquired fear of flying

2006-07-13T00:09:00.000-04:00

I've just returned from a whirl-wind trip to Massachusetts where I was able to catch up with family and friends, eat an enormous amount of ice cream, consume some Sam Adams in the land of its brewing, take a DUCK tour throughout Boston, roast like a stuck pig on Good Harbor beach, eat a heavy amount of nachos at our favorite elitist pub (as opposed to our favorite non-elitist pub), watch some good movies, enjoy the World Cup final with my favorite professor, go to a great wedding, and acquire a free ticket voucher for relinquishing my seat and taking a later flight.

As I type this, the jet lag combined with the many tiring hours of flying is zonking me out. But, I will attempt to continue with my update in a somewhat coherent fashion. I am quite glad I was able to take some time to head back up to the place I've called home for the past 4 years. I felt a strange mix of feelings when I arrived. I felt both a sense of place (being well acquainted with the area) and a sense of placelessness (considering I am no longer a student and have no real "home"). What was once a place of my future and of my present has become a place of my past, a place filled with favorite haunts, endless U-turns, sites of revelation -- a place filled now with memories.

Part of me felt a pull to stay on the North Shore. Here, life is familiar. I've grown here, matured and learned and become "adult." I have friends here, a support system, a church that I love. Boston is a great city, with so much more to be reaped and explored. But another part of me felt comfortable with the idea of not returning. Some people live their lives in circles, or prefer to order their lives via compartments. I live my life in eras, in certain stretches of time that are significant for some reason or another, stretches that can be long (years) or very short (days). I have a million journals that are organized by an era in my life. My missions trip to Bolivia when I was 15. My semester in Uganda. My junior year fall semester. My backpacking trip in Italy. My time here at L'Arche. Going back to the North Shore was like reentering a previous era, a strange feeling when you are in the midst of writing a new story, experiencing a new stage in life. Then again, the idea of letting go of Massachusetts...for good...doesn't exactly settle well. I loved it there and I love it there still. And who knows what the future may hold. I may end up back there in a few months or few years time. Life does tend to circle back on itself, I've noticed.

Now, for the title I've chosen for this entry, I must explain. It seems that, as of late, I have acquired a fear of flying. Perhaps "fear" is too strong a word. More like an apprehensiveness, an uneasiness, the opposite of comfort. I have never exactly found flying to be a pleasurable experience (except on BritishAir, as you can imagine). The whole airport experience is a case study in social control and social conformity. Your inequities are laid bare by the security folks as you shuffle through the lines in bare feet, like cattle being herded, and are occasionally pulled aside to be prodded at or have your belongings fondled. People are usually angry....angry at the crying baby on the plane, angry at the ticketing agent, angry at the baggage folks. Once you are on the plane, if you do not have the luxury of sitting in First Class, you are crammed in next to complete strangers who won't acknowledge your existence (or perhaps acknowledge it too much) with frigid air blasting down on you as you feel the plane slide into the air with a fair amount of bucking and bumping. Of course, your flight could very well be delayed or cancelled, which means more airport time, which is never fun.

On top of all of this, you are stuck inside a thin metal tube rushing through the air at an ungodly speed, and you have no idea whether the buzzing noise in the rear of the plane is good or bad. You really know nothing...and you can hardly believe the pilots or the attendants. Their job is to put the passengers at ease and convince them that flying is the safest, most natural thing in the world. If the plane hit the ocean and started sinking, I bet the attendants would still be smiling as they tred water.

I haven't always been fearful. I have been flying since I was in my early teens, and I probably have averaged 5 or so flights a year since college. I also know that there are millions of flights in the air every day and that traveling my air is remarkably safer than traveling by car. I have heard the statistics...that you'd have to fly 24 hours a day for 24 years to experience a plane crash. Blah blah. None of these rationalizations really sets me at ease when I am in the air. It's like my mind has suddenly awoken to the fact that the human person really shouldn't be that far from the earth, that air planes are way too big and way to flimsy to be going that high that fast.

My dad says I just need to surrender, to let go of my fear and be okay with dying. Nothing like a healthy dose of fatalism to get through a harrowing ordeal. Death by airplane crash would definitely be a romantic, exciting way to go. You'd have a great view before you die and exciting ride on the way down. You'd be all over the news, for at least a few days. People would think of you ever time they get on a flight, about the jumbo jet that crashed and sent you to your untimely grave. And, most likely, as your plane crashed down, you would be enjoying a good book or a writing something profound in your journal or jamming to some sweet tunes. I guess it's actually one of the best ways to die...exciting, swift, relatively painless, romantic.

Mmm...morbidity. I was reading a book on the plane today by J M Coetzee, called Disgrace. The protagonist is a rather vile character, complex of course, but lives an uninspired, despicable life...and I couldn't help but think -- "Is this the book I want to be reading if the plane crashes down? Is the broken, sordid life of David Lurie the last thing I want flickering through my mind seconds before I die?" I think about that a lot actually. Death is a great motivator for moral decision making. I think even David Lurie realizes this in Disgrace. With the understanding of death, we are reminded that our every thought, our every action, could easily be our last.

On that note, I sleep....thanking the Lord that I am on the solid earth (and trying to ignore the fact that I am really just sleeping upon the rocking surface of tectonic plates, floating across molten lava).

Thoughts on professionalism

2006-06-30T21:20:00.000-04:00

Today was my day 'off' after a long stint of being 'on'. Melissa and I awoke around 8:30 (I did my daily raid of the raspberry bushes out back) and walked up Mt Tabor. It's beautiful up there...lots of joggers and picnic-ers and a sweet view of the Burnside bridge and downtown Portland. After we showered, we took the bus to the Hawthorne district and ate brunch and then patronized our fav coffee place, the Sound Grounds. I always have good musical experiences at the Sound Grounds. When I was there previously, they were playing Paul Simon's "Rhythm of the Saints," one of my favorite albums. And today, after an hour or so of some weird modern jazz nonsense, they put on the Indigo Girls self-titled album which brought back a flood of memories from high school when I listened to that album incessantly. To this day, practically one of the only songs I can play on the guitar (not included your good-ole' Evangelical praise songs) is "Closer to Fine."

I made it back to Nehalem in time for a delicious dinner of vegetarian tacos. Mmm. After dinner each night, we have Community Time which consists of a reading from Jean Vanier's (the founder of l'Arche communities) Community and Growth. If l'Arche had a rule (like the Benedictine rule or the Trappist rule), it would be this book. Tonight, we read about the nature of 'living with' the least of these, and how living with is far different from simply working with.

Vanier writes, "Our focal point of fidelity at l'Arche is to live with people who have a handicap, in the spirit of the Gospel and the Beatitudes. 'To live with' is different from 'to do for'. It doesn't simply mean eating at the same table and sleeping under the same roof. It means that we create relationships of gratuite, truth and interdependence, that we listen to our people, that we recognize and marvel at their gifts, and particularly their openness to God and their holiness. The day we become no more than professional workers and educational therapists is the day we stop being l'Arche -- although of course 'living with' does not exclude this professional aspect."

Ah, I love these thoughts. This is truly l'Arche - a bunch of ragtag, professional and nonprofessional, young and old individuals coming together to experience community. The assistants here do not have Masters degrees in disability theory. Some have social work backgrounds, but most don't. Few, if any, have interacted with the developmentally disabled previous to l'Arche. We are people at different stages in our lives -- graduated or current students, senior citizens, married couples, developmentally disabled adults -- who have come together to experience true togetherness. You don't need to be a professional anything in order to brush teeth, hand out pills, patiently listen, go on a walk, ask for forgiveness. This was a lie I believed before coming to l'Arche, that I was someone incapable of caring for others without a professional title.

The truth is, professionalism or not, I am incapable of caring without the Holy Spirit, without the model of Jesus, without the acceptance and forgiveness of my ugliest sins. We have all been incapacitated by the lie of professionalism, the lie of autonomy, the lie of the individual. We need each other like plants need rain. Without community, we will wither and die. Our nation is ill, stuffed full of these lies that only serve to dismantle us piece my piece until nothing is left but human shells, devoid of souls. This is beginning to sound morbid and a bit dramatic, but we can see it happening all around us. Read the news. Observe those alone in their cars in a sea of morning traffic. Listen to the silence of a packed elevator. Notice how infrequently you see your next-door-neighbor. It's around us. It's in us. And we need to stop believing the lies.

On that glorious note, I am going to continue my day off my sitting on the porch to watch the sunset. Erin is humming along to Mariah Carey in her room. Marilyn is pacing in the living room where Melissa is playing the Indigo Girls on guitar. Adam is singing loudly in the shower. Welcome to l'Arche.

A little M-B background

2006-06-30T00:06:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that many folks are unfamiliar with Myers and Briggs as individuals and creators of the personality type indicator test. Here is a little background for you, taken from this website:

The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator Test was created by a mother/daughter team of Katharine Cook Briggs and Isabel Briggs Myers. They based their work on Carl Jung's theories about psychological type preferences. After reading Jung's work, Myers and Briggs decided to create an everyday application of his work for the general public. Myers developed the pen & pencil test in the 1940's. They tested it on friends and family during WWII hoping to resolve conflicts and help match people to appropriate work. It took over 20 years to fully develop the instrument.

Myers and Briggs also added a forth dimension to Jung's scheme focusing on how people deal with the outer world. They determined that each person has an external orientation towards orderliness and decisiveness (judgment) or towards new information and going with the flow (perception).

MBTI is one of the most widely used personality instruments in the world. Its ease of use, high statistical validity and reliability make it one the most respected personality instruments that exist. The test/retest measurement is very accurate, in 75% of cases, individuals will test the same in 3 of the 4 dimensions. Over 600 dissertations have been written on the MBTI and there are well over 1,000 articles and dozens of books. An average of 2 million people in the United States takes the MBTI each year and it has been translated into more than 30 languages.

It all comes back to Myers-Briggs

2006-06-27T14:12:00.000-04:00

Melissa and I are pretty similar when it comes to most things. We were born of the same womb, have similar genetic makeup, lived in the same house for most of our life, went to the same elementary, middle, senior high, and undergraduate schools, went to East Africa our sophomore years, are now living in Portland together, have our noses pierced, wear similar (if not the same) clothes and listen to similar (if not the same) music, enjoy similar movies and television shows, have similar worldviews and political/theological understandings, practice similar disciplines, etc.

Yet, we are very distinguishable when it comes to decision-making. Melissa feels confident to make rather large, weighty decisions at the drop of a hat (i.e. moving to Portland for a year) while I tend to be much more hesitant. She plows forth without looking back, without regret. I tend to walk tip-toe, and am very uncomfortable closing doors and letting go of my past experiences, friendships, etc. I am comfortable with ambiguity, with that grey area that is neither here nor there. This is where the most possibilities lie. The thought of planting roots, committing to something for more than a year makes me uneasy. Could I really do this for that long? What if I regret my decision 6 months from now? What if I'm lonely or miserable? Sometimes it's fun being stimulated by possibilities, but sometimes it's burdensome. We had to commit sometime. We have to make decisions sometime. And the great irony is, I HATE indecision. I can't stand it in other people (particularly when ordering at a restaurant) which means I probably can't stand it in myself.

About every month or so, I find myself referring to the Myers-Briggs personality test to explain some idiosyncracy of mine (or another). It provides me with an understanding of the world, particularly human beings who are utterly unpredictable...unless, of course, you have the Myers-Briggs test handy. If there was a Myers-Briggs religion, I might convert. My loyalty to the Myers-Briggs test is a bit tongue-in-cheek. Nothing explains everything. But, it explains some, particularly the depths of the human personality. So, here I go again.

The MB test measures the human personality via mutually exclusive pairs in 4 categories:

A) How you are energized: Introverts are stimulated by the internal world and prefer solitude, contemplation, imagination, and privacy. They prefer dealing with tasks and people one-on-one. Extroverts are stimulated externally, by people, spoken words, and action. They are multi-taskers, enjoy having lots of friends, and prefer the presence of other people.

B) How you process information: Sensing individuals use the 5 senses to understand the world around them. They prefer details, facts, and analysis, and are very present-focused. Intuitive individuals use insight and intuition to make connections about the world. They enjoy the big picture and are future-minded, and they prefer change, new ideas, and possibilities.

C) Thinking/Feeling (how you make a decision): Thinkers are objective and prefer logic and analysis. They are rule-followers and are often very formal. Feelers are subjective and prefer values, motivations and feelings. They tend to be more informal and diplomatic, and they don't mind bending the rules for the sake of social cohesion.

D) Judging/Perceiving (how you organize your day-to-day life): Judging individuals like structure and organization, and they follow deadlines to a T. They would rather plan ahead for future events. Perceivers, though, are comfortable to plan-on-the go and like to multi-task. This is a direct quote from a website concerning perceivers: "Instinctively avoid commitments which interfere with flexibility, freedom and variety."

Aha! There it is! In plan English, there it is. As an ENFP, I am by nature (or nurture?) a multi-asker, a creative thinker, spontaneous, horrible with details, motivated by feelings and emotions, and approach life in a rather disorganized, flexible fashion. I think the last category, J vs P, really sums up how Melissa and I differ. She is a J....she has her "head on straight" when it comes to basic things like remembering her keys when she leaves the house, planning ahead for events, etc (this isn't always true, but relative to me, it is). I am absent-minded and adverse to details and commitment. The thought of having to commit my life to something that could potentially limit freedom, variety, and flexibility makes me uncomfortable.

I am aware that I have an aversion to plan-making, but can one really go through life just waiting until the last possible second to make a decision. Then again, there are those folks who make decisions way to early, commit to things without thinking, and when time passes, they realize they've made a major mistake. But, going back to my original point...how am I ever going to transition into "real" life, "real" work if I prefer ambiguity over the closed-ended? What about my relationships? Can someone like me actually get married? Maintain friendships? I like to think that I can and that I have...but I guess it's under specific circumstances.

I am in the midst of deciding what to do with my near future and the task is daunting. In typical Melissa fashion, one day after discussing the options, she turns to me and says, "So, have you made a decision? You really should just make one already." Hmm...I don't work that way. Not at all. Only when September is breathing down my neck will I feel the motivation to take some action. My mother works quite the opposite of this, hence she thinks I'm psychotic and keeps trying to set up job interviews for me and sending me websites concerning open positions. She means well...and I appreciate her help. But I really will only get serious about all this...stuff when it's the time for it. But, I do have the tiny but acute fear that it'll be too late, that I'll regret my delay, that nothing will line up. But, this hasn't happened to me yet. So I can really only base this all on experience.

Faces to know

2006-06-25T23:30:00.000-04:00

My newly acquired lip ring (it's huge!)

Melissa and Jacob

Adam (wearing a plunging neckline)

Erin with her favorite c.d.

Joni coloring away

Marilyn in her awesome cloud pjs.

The day's simple pleasures

2006-06-25T03:10:00.000-04:00

-Painted Joni's fingernails with pearly polish
-Celebrated the 19th anniversary of the Nehalem house via ice cream social
-Went to rent a movie with Erin
-Went for a run around the neighborhood
-Watched "The Princess Diaries" with the folks
-Revived flacid cellery by placing the stalks in a cup of water (amazing)
-Danced with Joni to motown grooves
-Picked some strawberries

The start of work

2006-06-22T00:23:00.000-04:00

So, this work I started my summer "job" though it feels much less like a job than it does real life. I live where I work and work where I live. I dress people, bathe them and assist them around the house. I brush teeth, give shots (with much trepidation), bake cookies, take walks around the block. I pour cups of coffee and turn down the bed sheets. Normal, everyday things...but for people who need a little bit more help than your average "self-made" individual in America. Here, we rely on community, not ourselves. I am disabled in some areas where the core members are not. My patience is disabled...my body image - disabled. My ability to love and accept strangers, also disabled. But Joni and Adam and Erin and Marilyn are very able in these areas, if not abled in body or in emotional maturity.

We went to the other house tonight and met up with the folks and assistance over there. I bet Robyn, with down syndrome, who can do the splits and sings songs with such fervor, you'd think she was on a Broadway stage. And then Ben who can't move without the help of a wheelchair and can stare into the heart and soul of a person just by looking at them. And then there's my Joni, who communicates using humming sounds and sign language. She loves music and coloring in her coloring books with her crayons. She smells each crayon before she draws withit, as if to discover its secret scent that the rest of us can't seem to notice.

Adam came home from work today and we went out back with a tubberware container to pick raspberries and strawberries. We ate them on the front step of the porch, enjoying the warm weather and watching the clouds. We looked like siblings with are legs stretched out in front of us, ankles crossed. "I wuv you," he says. "Yer sweet." He also loves to respond to a request with "Ok, honey..." much like a husband would do to his wife. "Adam, can you head off to bed?" ...(with some reservation) "Ok, honey."

I am off tomorrow. Ghana is playing the USA tomorrow in the world cup and we are headed to a favorite pub called the Horse Brass to watch the game at 7am, if you can believe it. Early bed tonight. I forget that things come on later here...I guess East Coast time is the favored time zone of networks. I am cheering for Ghana. We have other sports we're good at, why monopolize another? The rest of the world loves soccer (I mean, football), so I think we should let them have it. We're not going to playing Ghana in hockey or baseball or basketball. Let them have soccer. They're probably better at it, anyway.

I have decided to begin running again. It's good for my heart, and after that CPR class, I've decided that I want my heart to beat as long as possible without the help of someone breathing into me. Dear Lord, I hope I never have to perform CPR. That dummy was enough. My watched stopped working last week, and I usually run about 20 minutes or so, according to what my watch says. I ran the other day rather blind and deaf of the time. I could have run 10 minutes or 40. I'm not sure. I just no I'm out-o-shape, and it's time to get back into it.

Oregon is as beautiful as I had imagined. Even the neighborhoods are beautiful, with quaint and qwerky houses and hundreds of rosebushes and beautiful, dramatic skies filled with fast-moving clouds. It rains a lot (during colder months), making this place lush and green - like Uganda. And the mountains are dramatic, not those dinky foothills we call mountains out East. These mountains are new, craggy and sharp, snow-peaked.

Life after college: 1 month in

2006-06-21T00:47:00.000-04:00

I've been "graduated" now for more than a month. Commencement was May 13th, my father's birthday, and the onset of the greatest deluge Massachusetts has seen since the early 90s. The rain was only fitting, considering how tumultuous the previous three weeks had been leading up to graduation -- sort of an icing on the cake that was April 20th - May 12th. I won't go into it all...no sense living in the past, but I will say that those three weeks were some of the more stressful ones I've experienced while at college. There were different types of stress at play: interpersonal stress, existential stress, legal/authoritative stress, relationship stress, personal stress, physical/health stress. Stress. And then...graduation came, with its 40 degree, sopping wet glory. Our speaker was awful (again, only fitting) and the party afterwards was a thorn in the flesh, and goodbyes were rushed, if they were even said at all. We are all so used to saying goodbye, at least for some amount of time.

Freshman year, we were traumatized with the thought of leaving our "best friends for life" for that strange, other-worldly place known previously as "home," despite the fact that we had lived there 18 years of our life. We embraced and cried and called eachother every day. Then, Sophomore December...the goodbye party in Lewis before Bethany and I headed off to Africa...more tearful goodbyes and going away gifts and feelings of uneasiness about the future and friends. Then, Junior December...when everyone ELSE decides to leave, and we have ANOTHER goodbye party with tearful goodbyes (this time, fewer tears) and reassuring hugs. And then Senior December...Bethany and I leave for Romania. A goodbye party...no tears. Just the knowledge that, yes, we'll be back. And things will probably be pretty much the same. But what about graduation? I don't know if any of us were prepared for that type of goodbye. There can be no more "See ya laters" or "Talk to you soons." Those are obsolete, out of commission. Will we be able to handle the shock when we find ourselves in August but are not headed back to school? Will we realize then the gravity of those final, hurried goodbyes, some of which were never made?

Though a series of fortunate events, I have found myself in Portland, Oregon, for the summer, living and working with developmentally disabled adults in a L'Arche community (French for "The Ark.") My sister is here, as well as her husband-to-be, and some of their mutal friends who live in the area. But otherwise, I am flying solo here...processing what I can of the past few months (senior year, Romania, graduation) but also trying to embrace the 'now,' which is supposedly pregnant with meaning. I am caught between wanting to affirm and solidify my friendships back home, and wanting to begin another chapter of my life, the one that I will experience here in Portland. I am uneasy with this tension which some people can negotiate better than myself. I am a loyal, dedicated, committed friend and value my friendships as one of the most important aspects of my life. My relationships with others, my friends and family and professors, are what enrich my life, make it worth living. I want nothing else but the assurance that my relationships are a solid foundation upon which I can rest my life. But I haven't always received this assurance. As they say, people will always let you down. I hate this statement...because people will also always surprise you. Those who you had written off or doubted or ignored may be your loyalest and most dependable comrade. And those whom you once considered your best and only may not be willing to receive all that you are willing to give.

This year has been a year of redefining the important relationships in my life, which has been a hard, painful experience. At times I have felt uneasy and directionless, because when my relationships aren't solid, then my life feels out of control. But in the process of redefining my relationships, I have learned things about myself and others that are valuable aspects of the learning process. I have learned that I have the capacity to hurt others in ways that are deep and scarring, of which I am ashamed. And I have learned that my heart is vulnerable (sometimes too vulnerable) to other's wounding, as well. I have also discovered the resiliency of my relationships, which have lasted through thick and thin. Seeing as I am in Portland, and the majority of my closest friends are on the other side of the country, and seeing as I have little direction concerning the future and my potential whereabouts come September, this process of redefining and reaffirming relationships is hardly over. This is the test period, the great inbetween time where we can't yet say who will be walking this life journey with us.

I am trying to be at peace about all of this ambiguity....with relationships (both friendship and otherwise) and with the future. And so far I am doing pretty well. But there is a part of me that wonders if feeling some trepidation would be appropriate. Jesus, the Great Philosopher, said that worrying doesn't do us any good or add any days to our lives. So...like many of the great prophets of yore, we are to love life deeply but hold onto it loosely.