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Sometimes I Just Have To Laugh

Sometimes I just have to laugh at the situations in which I find myself. Tonight was one of those times.

It's Friday evening and I'm at Bloom, pushing a massive grocery cart. Behind me is Seema, my older (60s?) friend from Pakistan, pushing her own massive grocery cart. Behind her is RoseAnn, a heavyset grandmotherly type woman with gray hair who likes to talk a lot. She, too, is pushing a large grocery cart. As we caravan through the store I look back and see Seema munching on Potato Chips which she has not yet purchased. "I'M HUNGRY!" she announces, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. I can't help but chuckle to myself.

These are a couple of the women I work with. We're all out food shopping for an upcoming Parent Resource Room event. Not exactly a Friday evening out on the town, but it makes my heart happy. :)

More Lenten Reflections

There is a wonderful, gifted teacher at the school where I work. Her son, Paul, has spina bifida. Recently she shared with me (somewhat perplexedly) about Paul's deep faith in Jesus. At my request, she gave me a copy of an article in which her priest references Paul. This excerpt from the Arlington Catholic Herald speaks to a deep place in my heart. Fr. Peterson writes:

There is a graduate student at Marymount who has developed a deep faith and trust in God, and is an inspiration to many of us on campus. He is confined to a wheelchair because he has spina bifida, a spinal cord birth defect that leaves those afflicted with it paralyzed in various ways. This young man is paralyzed from the waist down. He got involved with campus ministry in a variety of ways during his undergraduate years, beginning as a volunteer in our office.

This amazing young man has endured countless trials in his life, most of them connected with his condition. He has also had to endure the death of his father following a four year battle with cancer. Throughout these last five years his faith has become strong and deep. He recently spoke to students at an event on campus about disabilities and faith. He explained that his belief in God and his acceptance of God’s love for him has made all the difference in the world to him. He has been strengthened to completely surrender his life to God and to trust that Our Lord has a special plan for his life. While he still dreams about being able to walk one day, he said that his faith in God is the factor that has enabled him to be strong in the face of his challenges, generous with his time in service of others, patient with those around him who often misunderstand him, and hope-filled while embracing the cross of living with spina bifida. The faith of this young man is truly inspirational on so many levels.

This Lent, let us pray earnestly and ask God to deepen our faith in His love and His loving plans for us, especially when they do not make sense to us. Let us seek the grace to embrace our crosses and allow them to increase our virtue and be a channel of God’s strength. Let us find great inspiration in the lives of those around us and those who have gone before us like Abraham to be men and women of deep faith in Almighty God.

If that last paragraph doesn't nail it, I don't know what does.

Reflecting on Ash Wednesday

I didn't grow up in a highly liturgical faith tradition. Consequently, at 27, this was the first year I participated in an Ash Wednesday service. I found it quite meaningful to have ashes smudged on my forehead while hearing the words, "Remember, O woman, that you are dust and to dust you will return." During a moment of reflection that night, I wrote,

Self sufficient?

There is a sense in which this his nothing more than an outright lie

Show me the man who thinks he is self-sufficient and I will ask him,

"From where does your next breath come?"

As I sit here,

watching smoldering flames

dwindling to coals, then ash,

I think of Hil's mom

on her deathbed...

Woman, you leave behind loved ones

surprised by your sudden departure;

you leave behind tears, aching hearts -

a poignant reminder taht nothing can be taken for granted.

Soon I will follow you.

I am dust

and to dust I will return.

This season, I am continually impressed by the fragility of life and the fact that we can take nothing for granted. We must hold loosely. We're not entitled to anything. It's all here today, gone tomorrow. I find Solomon's words resonating in my heart: "Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless!"

Yancey, summarizes a similar sentiment well in his chapter on the book of Ecclesiastes in The Bible Jesus Read: "Our best attempts backfire. We learn to prolong life, yet fail to provide meaning for the people permanently attached to the whirring machines – and so Kevorkians arise with alternative solutions. We bring antibiotics to underdeveloped countries, only to see the infant mortality rates plummet, populations soar, and the specter of famine rear up. We dump a hundred billion dollars into a War on Poverty and end up with more poor people than ever before."

Yancey goes on to offer this commentary on Solomon's words in the book of Ecclesiastes, "Somehow, the teacher counsels at the end, take the leap of faith and believe that there is a God, and that this life will make sense one day: when the eternity in our hearts will find its Sabbath rest, when the burden of the gods will settle on our resurrected shoulders with a bearable lightness of being."

Most of the time I believe this. Sometimes I succumb to doubt.

Witch Hazel Evangelist

I know it's kind of lame to not post for a while and then, when I do post, write about something as trivial as this, but I just have to share the wealth with ma girls. Ladies, Witch Hazel is my new amazing facial care discover! The hell with Mary Kay and Arbonne and all of these other pricy products. A $4.19 bottle of Witch Hazel does the trick. It's a 100% natural cleanser and toner in one. Try it and let me know what you think.

Winter Break in a Nutshell

1/1/09, ~8:00 am:

As I write, my bus is departing South Station. I am exchanging the grandeur of one great city (Boston), for the grandeur of another (D.C.), though I live in the heart of neither. Welcome to 2009, Jen.

My vacation started out with a bang. 15 minutes after departing the station in D.C., my bus broke down. 2 hours on the side of the road and a few phone calls later, I said "goodbye" to my newfound Belgian Professor friend and "hello" (again) to my buddy, Ryan, who had dropped me off that morning. Ryan graciously agreed to transport me from point "breakdown" to point "pick up", where my generous friends, Matt and Kendra, who were traveling to NH by car, would collect me a few hours later. In between, Ryan and I had time to grab a yummy Chinese meal as well as a cup of coffee and discuss how people change/grow/get beyond the crap in their past. As always, it was an enlightening time of verbal processing. Fun car time with matt and Kendra followed. I was delighted to find kindred spirits who enjoy playing "2 Truths and a Lie" as much as I do. Gotta' love the life-long influence of youth ministry on a person... :)
So, that's how my winter break started. Other highlights included:


1. Snow!
I enjoyed a white Christmas and watching the flakes fall while I sat inside a warm house, nestled in front of the fireplace. I also enjoyed the fact that I would soon be returning to a warmer climate and would not have to endure four more months of this weather!

2. Wayfam Girls' Day Out

Mom, Meg and I spent a Saturday bonding over manicures, lunch out and shopping. It feels good to spoil yourself every once in a while; Mom's birthday and Christmas gifts provided the perfect excuse to do so!

3. Time with Friends

It used to be that when I came home I would try to squeeze in as much people-time as possible. I marvel at the way my socializing tendencies have changed. Ever since my time in Africa, I've noticed my introvert tendencies poking out in unexpected ways. I didn't get to see as many friends as I would have liked (partially because some folks were out of town for the holidays), but I'm so grateful for the time I did have with so many wonderful, quality people.

4. Paula's Cinnamon Roles

I ate THE ABSOLUTE BEST cinnamon roles I have EVER h ad in my ENTIRE life and then, was blown away when Paula surprised me with a batch of these made special for my mom's birthday breakfast.

5. Mom's Birthday Breakfast

Complete with the presence of Aunt Sheri and Ryan (Meg's boyfriend)

6. Late Night conversations with my dear, dear sister

7. Watching "The Tale of Despereaux"

A must see for all ages! My favorite quote: "Whenever you have hope, you're never really anybody's prisoner."

8. Watching old family movies with my family

Though, I must admit that while the flicks made me laugh harder than I have in a while, there was a deep twinge of embarrassment mixed in with the laughter. (Were we really that lame? Was I smoking crack when I dressed myself? What was I thinking when I acted that way?)

Maybe it was the mixture of watching old family movies and being back in the land of past versions of myself that made going home both wonderful and, at times, depressing. In some ways I am the same old Jen I've always been; in other ways, I'm not. I think differently, I live differently, I relate to people differently, and (thank God!) I dress differently. I have history in this place. I have history and love and relationships and experiences that have shaped me and made me the woman I am today. There's a love here that will always be "home" for me. I will hold onto all that is good. But I do not need to be confined by my past failures, roles and paradigms...

As my bus journeys on toward NY on this fine day, January 1, 2009, I think about some of my goals and hopes for this next year: Join a gym and start exercising on a more regular basis...read through the Bible in one year. (Just kidding! I gave up on those darn reading plans a while ago. Somwhere around Leviticus I always drop out.) But seriously, I do want to make more sacred space in my life... work on being content...play music....start on my Master's degree...

The irony in all of this is that it's quite possible that 10-20 years from now I'll be watching old home movies of myself, now, (in whatever technological form they may take) and think, Was I really that lame? Was I smoking crack when I dressed myself? What was I thinking when I acted that way?

Making Up For Lost Time

As a kid I attended more than my fair share of lame church Harvest Parties, which were meant to serve as some kind of substitute for Trick-or-Treating. Let me tell ya, there's nothing like dressing up as a bible character and eating donuts off a string… It was better than nothing, yet still left something to be desired.

This year for Halloween, I decided it was time to start making up for lost fun. On Friday night I went Trick-or-Treating with friends’ kids. I selflessly (wink, wink) helped “lighten the load” whenever the candy buckets became too heavy to carry as we went door-to-door collecting the goods. I also helped pass out candy to the kids who came to our door(s). Tons of fun! Though, I must admit, I was amazed at how many kids skipped the “Trick or Treat” line all together and simply made a mad dash for the candy. A bit disheartening, but not enough to dampen my spirits!

Tonight I went to a Halloween party at another friend’s house dressed, from head to toe, as a cat. This was never my intention! I was merely looking for a simple mask to wear. Somehow I ended up in a skin-tight, leopard body suit which I ended up wearing all night long! I’m placing all blame on my friend, Tina, for this one. However, I must admit, it feels good to be making up for lost time. :)

Pictures of Grace

This morning I went to New Hope Fellowship, a small church gathering made up of homeless/low income folks who meet at the Green Briar Community Center. What a beautiful picture of grace, freedom and uninhibited worship! I was reminded of the heart of the gospel in a way I have been missing for a long time. There was no pretense here, no social hierarchy games, no need to have it all together… rather a deep, joyful, simple, overwhelming sense of grace.

Mike took a smoke break in the middle of the service.

The girl to the left of me was wearing sweatpants.

A number of people were reading out of turn on the responsive reading.

We sang along with a DVD.

Someone whose name I can’t remember informed me that he was already putting together a sermon for the next time he got a chance to preach. The topic: “We have to be thankful for the little things.”

Baby Madison was to be baptized during this service, so the sermon was on baptism. I couldn’t help but remember the words of my friend Mark from the Boston Rescue Mission as he reflected on his own baptism a few years earlier, “Something about a new beginning sounded good to me...” In a past season of my life, I used to volunteer at the Boston Rescue Mission. I was reminded this morning of how much I miss this kind of environment and further, how much I need to be in this kind of environment - otherwise I’m prone to miss this grace thing completely.

All You Have to do is Call

“Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I’ll be there…You’ve got a friend.” – Carole King

In my short, ten-year driving career, I seem to have had more than my fair share of car trouble, which might have something to do with the fact that I’m always driving used cars that are usually at least ten years old. At any rate, living in NH and having car trouble was a pain in the arse, but I always knew there was someone I could call: Dad. I recall a certain 2am phone call after I blew a rod through my engine on the highway. Dear old Dad, my Knight in shining armor, awoke from his slumber and drove an hour and half to come and pick me up.

Now I live in Northern VA, near DC. Sometimes I think about this fact and feel like an incredibly strong, independent, liberated woman out here on my own. And then, inevitably, something will happen – as it did last night – that brings me right back to a place of humility and healthy dependence. Yesterday afternoon my car started acting funny. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, but no, there was definitely a hiccup when I tried to accelerate. Gradually it became more pronounced until my check engine light came on. By now dusk was giving into darkness and I found myself on the side of an unfamiliar road, with no flashlight and no extra oil. What to do? Who to call? My friend, Matt, mechanic extraordinaire, was one of the first names to come to mind. He picked up right away and walked me through several under-the-hood checks in an effort to diagnose the problem. Then he called our friend, Mike, who graciously agreed to pick up some oil (though we later discovered that was not the problem) and come get me. Eventually we got the car home. First thing this morning I received a text from Matt, checking to make sure I made it home ok and letting me know that he was going to get his “card reader” (whatever that is) to help me diagnose the problem.

As I unwind the past day, I can’t help but gather in all the goodness and light in gratitude. It means the world to me to be stuck on the side of the road and know that there are friends I can call.

My Italian Mama

I don't know why my mother includes me on some of her email forwards. God, I love that woman, but sometimes I wonder what she's thinking! Last night she sent me some inciting fwd going on and on about how, "This is the scariest election we as Christians have ever had to face, and from the looks of the polls, the Christians aren't voting Christian values!"

I'm an idiot. I hit "reply all" and wrote: "Another perspective to keep in mind while we pray: http://www.brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/why-im-voting-for-obama-and-why.html" And now it's me against the world (of my mom's friends). Received this reply: "Another perspective. See video at www.catholicvote.com" To which I responded (excerpt): "With all due respect, my purpose in replying to all with the pro-Obama link was simply to suggest that being a solid Christian who votes 'Christian values' is NOT necessarily synonymous with voting Republican (as the language in the initial email would seem to suggest). I am for life - absolutely. But I do NOT relegate my 'pro-life' stance solely to the issue of abortion. When we unpack the buzzword 'moral issues' we have to be honest; we have to affirm life everywhere we see it: in the homeless man on the street, in the child soldier in Uganda, in the welfare mom, in the immigrant child who has no papers to prove citizenship... When I take ALL of these issues into account, I may very well end up voting for Obama. Does that make me any less of a Christian? Does that mean I care any less about 'moral issues' and 'Christian values'? Just my two cents. Take it for whatever it's worth!" I almost added, "Constantine tried to regulate morality with less than stellar results. I dare say, we would do well to learn from history." but thought better of it.

I'm not big on politics. I'm beginning to think I should have just kept my thoughts to myself, but I'm in the middle of this now so might as well go all the way.

These Days

I’ve been waiting for the right time - an inspirational moment - to get back into the swing of things with my blog entries. Between last night and today, I’ve been apprehended by two seemingly intertwined “blog worthy” reflections:

#1
Today we celebrated and baptized two of our youngest members at Common Table Church: Madeline and CJ. This beautiful, interactive service really touched me. Among other things, some of the words Mike spoke as a blessing over CJ struck a chord in my heart: “And like Jacob, may you wrestle with God and all of the questions that a genuine relationship with God brings. May you bring your whole self to God, to bathe naked in the stream of God’s grace, and to learn to flow with that love and energy. And too, may you welcome others into these same waters.”

#2
As I was going through my mail last night, I was thrilled to open a large envelope from my friend, Naomi, containing a copy of a beautiful piece she had painted. I can’t even begin to detail the shit that Naomi has been through in her life, suffice to say, her brother is currently in prison awaiting trial; he will receive either life or a death sentence. Perhaps it’s because I know some of the back story on this painting that I am so touched by it:




Naomi included a note:
“Jen, I’m so glad my painting has touched you…The painting is titled, “Arms of Love”. I hope that whether in good times or bad that you will often feel the Lord’s loving arms tighten around you and hold you close…”

1 + 2 =
Indeed, wrestling with God and questioning seems, to me, to be a vital part of trying to live out a genuine relationship with Him. In the absence of answers and in the midst of wrestling, sometimes it’s comforting to simply know that “God weeps too”.

I know this is such a melancholy note on which to re-enter the blogging scene, but it’s real, and it’s what I’m thinking about these days.

Weakness in the Christmas Story

Last Christmas, after spending a good deal of time in the academic world, I was struck with the portion of the Christmas story involving the wise men. I connected with the fact that God appeared to the learned and the wise and that He calls us to love him with our minds --not ignore them in the name of "faith".

In stark contrast, this year I am captured by the underlying theme of weakness that we find woven throughout the narrative of the incarnation. If I were to freeze-frame scenes in which I find weakness in the Christmas story, I would highlight the following characters at distinct points as this drama unfolds:

Elizabeth - barren, old, frail; ostracized for her empty womb...

Zachariah - an honorable priest; struck mute, unable to communicate in spoken word due to his lack of faith...

Shepherds - humble men of humble means; scared shitless in their fields at the sudden the appearance of angels...

Mary - a very pregnant, young, working class girl; riding on a donkey as her contractions begin...

Joseph - a new husband, a carpenter with rough hands; suddenly forced to play "midwife" in a stable...

Jesus - a helpless little baby wrapped in rags; sucking at his mother's breast...

Indeed, baby Jesus is the epitome of weakness. (Though, admittedly, the question "How much heaven and how much earth were in this baby at his birth?" has been widely debated.)

This year I relate to weakness, and I am grateful beyond belief for these scenes that call to me from the Christmas story. I take comfort in these scenes because there is, I believe, a paradoxical strength to be found in and through weakness -- even if we can't see it at the time. Weak, dependant, helpless little baby Jesus gets me. Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting father, Prince of Peace became weak. He gives me strength; He makes me strong.

[Jesus], being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

- Phil. 2:6-11

awayinafrica

Thanks for checking in. I've temporarily moved! You can now find me at: www.awayinafrica.org.
Hope to see you there!

Dumpster Diving with Dee

It's really amazing (and quite disheartening) to think about all of the food that we throw away in our society while so many are in need... With this in mind, I've joined the ranks of dumpster divers! My friend Dee and I had fun staking out a certain restaurant chain that is known for its bread. Every night P______ throws away bags of bagels, loaves, pastries etc. that have not sold. There's nothing else in these bags (no trash) -- just bread items. Dee and I retrieved 4 huge fresh-tossed bags. We organized the bread items into Ziplock freezer bags, filled the freezer and shared with our friends. Yum!

Yes!

Last Sunday I had the pleasure of celebrating with several friends from Common Table as they were baptized. This prayer, from Walter Brueggermann, really struck a chord in my heart:

Yes

Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth

You are the God who is simple, direct, clear with us and for us.
You have committed yourself to us.
You have said yes to us in creation
yes to us in birth,
yes to us in baptism,
yes to us in our awakening this day.

But we are of another kind,
more accustomed to "perhaps, maybe, we'll see,"
left in wonderment and ambiguity.

We live our lives not back to your yes,
but out of our endless "perhaps."

So we pray for your mercy this day that we may live yes back to you,
yes with our time,
yes with our money,
yes with our sexuality,
yes with our strength and with our weakness,
yes to our neighbor,
yes and no longer "perhaps."

In the name of your enfleshed yes to us,
even Jesus who is our yes into your future. Amen.

Walter Brueggemann, from Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann

Ghetto Rite Aid

I went to the ghetto Rite Aid drugstore in Arlington this morning. Outside, the building was a bit run down and a few shabbily dressed Hispanic immigrants hung around; inside an imposing figure wearing a badge marked “security” stood in the corner with his arms folded across his chest and a stern face that wouldn’t crack a smile. After returning my item, I left and got into my car to drive away. As I exited the parking lot, I noticed a number of Hispanic men standing around, sitting on crates, waiting for someone to come by and offer them cheap, under the table, day labor. I drove on, feeling uncertain and unable to offer any meaningful help. A few hundred yards away I noticed a church with a huge sign posted in its front yard broadcasting “English Lessons” at a certain time each week. This, I think, is what the gospel is all about. This, I think, is the kind of church activity at which Jesus must smile.

“ The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD."

-Jesus, Luke 4:16-22

Perhaps I should go to the ghetto Rite Aid more often.

My Latest Adventures

tireswing
Originally uploaded by awayindc

I’m loving this opportunity to live with my friends in N. VA. I feel like it’s preparing me for a smoother transition into life in Tanzania (where I’ll be living in a village and will spend much of my time with children and families).

A few days ago I took the kids to the library. I can understand why Dee likes to keep these trips as short as possible. 8 Library books, 2 videos and multiple reminders to “use our inside voices” later, we piled back into the Doan's classic soccer mom minivan and headed to Starbucks for a “surprise”. I had a blast showing off these adorable kids! The boys enjoyed “blueberry milkshakes” for a few minutes before Keenan loudly announced our departure, yelling “Bye! Bye!” to anyone who cared to listen.

Starbucks treats in hand (I rewarded myself for a successful library trip with a cup of coffee,) we headed to Office Depot to make a few quick purchases. We didn’t make it to the checkout before Ethan started doing his “I have to pee” dance (translation: “I have to pee NOW”). My first response was to silently wonder why he couldn’t have decided he needed to pee a few minutes earlier, when we were at Starbucks and had easy bathroom access. No matter. I dropped my shopping basket and flagged down an attendant to ask where we might be able to take care of this bathroom emergency. Thankfully, relief was to be found at the back of the store. As I guided Ethan along, Keenan seemed to be enjoying life at his own pace – he dawdled along behind us, blueberry milkshake held in both hands, clunking with each step in the yellow rain boots that he insists on wearing all the time. What a scene! We made it to the bathroom in time. Great success. :)

After taking care of our bathroom emergency, we reclaimed our basket of goods and headed to the check out. By this time the blueberry milkshakes were finished and the boys were getting finicky. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long in line. As we headed out the door, Keenan once again loudly announced our departure, yelling “Bye! Bye!” to anyone who cared to listen.

We headed home. Two minutes after walking in the door, I found myself sub-consciously humming one of the kids’ songs we were listening to in the van as we traveled. I didn’t realize this until Dee remarked, “Catchy, isn’t it?” Yeah....I guess so. Two days later I still find myself humming the tune.

When we returned, I couldn’t help laughing as I recounted details of our afternoon excursion to Sam and Dee. These are my adventures of late. I’m loving it!

Mr. Iditarod

“So, you’re going to Africa. What are you going to do?”
The question seemed simple enough. “Education - I’m going to teach,” I replied. “What are you going to do?” the older man sitting across the table from me questioned again. “I’m going to teach kids in villages,” I responded, hoping this time my explanation would make sense. No such luck. He threw the question at me once more, this time with greater force. “No, what are you going to do?” By this point I was starting to get a little frustrated, as were some of the other residents sitting around the dinner table at Crossroads House. I had joined my friends from the Intervarsity Graduate Group at UNH to serve a meal at Crossroads, a transitional homeless shelter in Portsmouth, NH. As I sat down and chatted with the residents over dinner, Mr. Iditarod (I call him that b/c he was wearing a teal blue Alaska Iditarod t-shirt and he never offered his name) seemed to enjoy questioning and challenging me.

I responded to his question a third time, offering more details, hoping this seemingly educated man would be satisfied with my response: “Education – I’m going to teach in outskirts villages in Tanzania with an organization called Village Schools International.” One of the residents sitting next to him piped in “She’s going to do general education,” trying to help me out by offering Mr. Iditarod her own explanation of my response.

“No. You’re not going to teach,” he asserted with an air of authority, “You’re going to learn.” This brisk, 65 year old, salt and pepper bearded, dogmatic man continued, “Too many people go over to Africa to teach – thinking they know it all...they don’t know anything. You’re going to learn.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. I expressed some words of agreement that didn’t appease his need to expound. Mr. Iditarod proceeded to tell me – and everyone else at the dinner table who cared to listen – that I was young and naive, and an idealist. And he’s right. He’s right about a lot of things.

If 25 is young, Mr. Iditarod is right.
If being a naive idealist means, as my friend Ken says, “believing/doing the impossible in spite of ourselves,” Mr. Iditarod is right.
If teaching in Africa is more about learning (and I would argue that it is), Mr. Iditarod is right.

"If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time,

but if you come because your liberation is bound up with mine,

then let us work together."
- Lilla Watson, Aboriginal Educator and Activist, Brisbane

Jesus Experiments

I'm really enjoying the opportunity to connect with a small group of friends from Common Table in a gathering we have titled "64". This group, loosely based on the Beatle's song, "When I'm 64", is focused on examining our lives through the lens of these questions: "What will my life look like when I'm 64? What will I be known for? In what (or whom) will I have invested my time and resources?"

We kicked things off last month by reading through a gospel of our choosing as we walked through a cemetary. There's something about noting the brevity of human life while reading the words of Jesus... Then we got together to discuss our first experiment.

Mike wrote an excellent summary of our time together:
We had a nice time cooking together and catching up on life, and talking about our impressions from the graveyard walking and gospel-reading we've been doing. As we did so, a theme seemed to emerge: we've all been struck by just how engaged Jesus was with so many people. Sometimes superficially, and sometimes substantially, but seemingly quite intentionally at every turn. Too, we noted that though he certainly spent most of his time with the powerless and the poor, he also hung with some rich and powerful folks, and we spent some time pondering his enigmatic parable of the Shrewd Manager, and trying to see how we fit into this alternately wealthy and poor culture in Northern Virginia.
As we continued to talk, we noted how we tend to notice roles, rather than people. To not know our neighbors, or our co-workers, or the people with whom we interact and live among every day. We talked about our tendency to objectify the people whose job it is to serve us, and to objectify those who we are tasked to serve. To gloss over people, rather than to really connect with them. So our experiment is this: once a day, to pause to see a person, and then to find a way to show them mercy. We plan to write down at least three of these encounters over the next two weeks, so that we can share them when we get together.

I wasn't as regular with my experiments as I should have been, but I found myself surprised by the way some people responded to my humble attempts at "showing mercy". Here's one thing I'm realizing: most people in service-related fields don't expect you to notice them and they rarely expect empathy and mercy. In our consumer oriented culture, many people seem to expect to be treated as a commodity.

For me, much of this first experiment can be summed up in the African concept of ubuntu (a word that has it's origins in the Bantu languages of Southern Africa.) South Africa's Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes the concept of Ubuntu in this way:
"Ubuntu is the essence of being human. And in our language a person is ubuntu and unbuntu is a noun to speak about what it means to be human. In essence, it is something that you find especially in the Old Testament... We say a person is a person through other persons. You can't be human in isolation. You are human only in relationships..." (Vanity Fair, 2007)

Security is Mostly a Superstition

My friend, Steph, has this great quote on her facebook site that I've decided I really like:

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. -- Helen Keller

The other night I opened my door, sat in the entry way and watched a magnificent thunder and lightening storm. Thunder and lighting storms evoke a sense of awe in me; they make me feel pretty small, powerless and somewhat insignificant in the grand scheme of things; they shatter my illusions of control. I think I need this every once in a while.