Tuesday, December 19, 2006
The great divorce...
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.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Time ticks on...
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
An article in the Washington Post...
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
intro? vert?
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A short visit...
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.
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.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Trying to balance the world...
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.
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.
Monday, October 30, 2006
50s house wife
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?
Friday, October 06, 2006
Ephemeral
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.
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.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
There and back again...
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?
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?
Friday, September 15, 2006
I miss...
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)
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)
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The start of another chapter...
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.
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.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Photos of roses....
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...
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 morning—
the sun falling through the windows
and casting a shadow on the sundial—
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 barber’s chair—
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.
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 morning—
the sun falling through the windows
and casting a shadow on the sundial—
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 barber’s chair—
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.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Back to school? Not so much...
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
l'Arche Northern Virginia!
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Photos from our trip to Long Beach
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.
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.
Monday, August 14, 2006
You win some, you lose some
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
potentially, a new plan....
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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, July 24, 2006
movie theatres and church services
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.
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.
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