I'm beginning to wonder if whoever said "Home is where the heart is" ever went through a stage of having lost his heart on account of being confused about the location of his home.
I'm "home" on my 17-day Christmas break and I'm starting to wonder about where I belong: In (mostly) sunny, opportunity-, people-, pollution-filled California or in varietous one-minute-it's-summer-blink-now-it's-winter! Wisconsin; where people know how to take a day off (at least at my job) or where people feel the pressure to work constantly to make ends meet; where image comes before character or where people forget to look in a mirror before going out the door (and it's no big deal because they're putting on a stocking cap and their hair's going to get messed up anyway!) and know they can depend on their neighbor to plow them out after a nasty snow storm.
Plainly put, I miss the sincerity of the Midwest, yet I love the adventure and the idea of possibility that LA has to offer.
It's a good thing I'm where I'm at, because right now I don't have to choose either - living in LA is sort of like an extended vacation and then I get to come back every now and then to visit my family and friends back home.
But I can feel life in LA changing me and, while I'm there, I'm sure it's a good thing; after all, isn't it healthy to be able to adapt to your surroundings? However, when I'm home, things shift and all of a sudden what was "important" out there seems silly and trivial...or misplaced, at the least. And the same thing happens when I go back.
These seemingly opposing perspectives on life seem to conflict with Emerson's idiom of "Wherever you go, there you are." Sure, it works in a literal sense, but what about when it comes to who a person is? How can they possibly be anywhere if they're one way in one place and another way in another place?
Don't get me wrong - I know who I am - my identity has been nailed down for a pretty long while now. The question is more of where who I am fits in better - feels more at home.
Because when I'm in LA, it fits (well, sort of): I'll admit that it's a little lonely out there and accountability is a little hard to come by. And when I'm home it fits (well, sort of): I feel restless at home, like I could be somewhere else, doing something more...meaningful.
My family and I went to church on Christmas eve and the theme of the homily was this very discussion: home. Only it definitely had more spiritual overtones, like "find your home in God." I hope it's not expected for the churning dilemma in my heart to be remedied by that phrase. Yup, I'm doing this whole thing because God made it clear that He wanted me to; I'm doing this because I know it's what will fulfill my desire to be "doing something more...meaningful." But that doesn't make it easy and my decision to move to LA has opened more new doors than I can count...more doors than I know what to do with.
Entonces, que hago? What do I do? I make myself be present to the place in which I am and to the people whose presence I am blessed to enjoy. I bundle up and fill my lungs with frigid air and enjoy how they tingle because though it's cold at least it's clean and I'll be going back to smog heaven in 7 short days and will no doubt be wishing I was tramping through snow and cursing the way winter always wears out its welcome.
So, I'm home for now and I'll be going back home next Sunday. I'll be sure to let the proverbial post office know my forwarding address, in case you should send me some mail. :)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Dear Santa...
I'm sitting at Gate 40 at LAX, trying to shrug off the irritation of just having found out that my flight got bumped back an hour, so not only am I 2 hours early for my flight, but a full 3. And the seats in the waiting area are all cracked and uncomfortable looking so I settle into a spot on the floor, next to those metal racks in which people shove their over-sized carry-ons in an effort to convince themselves, and to prove to stingy agents, that their luggage does indeed belong ON the plane and not below it.
I'm already getting sleepy and none of the time-passers I've brought seem appealing. Fortunately my entertainment for much of the next 3 hours will be provided by a 3-year old named Logan and her poor, brave, courageous, amazing mother, who has managed to keep her curious 3-year old content in an airport for 6 hours already.
Logan, the mischief-maker in all this, has messy curly blond hair and is wearing a cheetah print Ecko shirt that's almost too small, and black leggings. Her scuffed pink Uggs have been tossed aside and are only called up for duty when she has to go to the bathroom (she's already had one false alarm) or when her mom takes her outside for a smoke break (the mom needs the nicotine; the kid needs the fresh air).
Like many just-too-old-to-be-toddlers, Logan has a thing for pushing buttons: the metal buttons on the ticket taker, the silver, clickity-clacking buttons of the pay phones and her mom's buttons too. But it's clear her favorite buttons to push are those of the pay phones. And she has some interesting conversations with the nobodies on the other end!
I'm not the only person privvy to this show - there are three young men sitting in the area - one's a Marine, one's in the Navy and I'm pretty sure the other one is a civilian, but I'm, not sure - and enjoying Logan's complete disregard for social boundaries. In fact, it seems like to four of them have become buddies. As Logan is exploring other areas of the waiting area, these three guys are looking on one of the pay phones to find out its number (Logan's mom has promised her that, if a phone rings, she can answer it).
Logan is entirely engrossed in dancing her way in a circle in front of her mom when the phone rings. In complete patronization of her daughter, the young mother (who is wearing heels and has bleach-white hair topped with a glintzy silver beany) rushes over to the phone with her daughter and picks her up to answer it.
"Hello?!" Logan says.
"Hello," it's the Marine, one of Logan's new friends, as he does a clumsy James Bond wannabe move to hide himself behind the chairs.
"Who is this?" she squeals.
"Why, it's Santa Clause!"
"Santa Clause!"
"Yes Logan, this is Santa Clause. And I have written here that you've been a VERY good girl!"
"Mommy, it's Santa Clause!" Logan's eyes get rounder and bigger than they were when she discovered she could sit in the suitcase-measurer-basket.
"Tell him what you want for Christmas," Mom prompts.
"I want toys and a drum set and - what else, mom?" Mom suggests tools and clothes and shoes too. "And tools and clothes and shoes too!"
"Ho ho ho, well I'll see what I can do! Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Santa!" Logan hangs up the phone and is so excited that she runs over to me and shouts, "I talked to Santa!"
At the risk of getting sentimental, I'd like to point out how misery can bring complete strangers into company that finds charming the potentially irksome antics of a 3-year old whose been stuck in an airport for more hours than she sleeps at night. And what's more - The graciousness of grown men who realize the importance of encouraging the creativity of imagination and indulging in a childhood story to make it real for a rambunctious little girl named Logan.
I'm already getting sleepy and none of the time-passers I've brought seem appealing. Fortunately my entertainment for much of the next 3 hours will be provided by a 3-year old named Logan and her poor, brave, courageous, amazing mother, who has managed to keep her curious 3-year old content in an airport for 6 hours already.
Logan, the mischief-maker in all this, has messy curly blond hair and is wearing a cheetah print Ecko shirt that's almost too small, and black leggings. Her scuffed pink Uggs have been tossed aside and are only called up for duty when she has to go to the bathroom (she's already had one false alarm) or when her mom takes her outside for a smoke break (the mom needs the nicotine; the kid needs the fresh air).
Like many just-too-old-to-be-toddlers, Logan has a thing for pushing buttons: the metal buttons on the ticket taker, the silver, clickity-clacking buttons of the pay phones and her mom's buttons too. But it's clear her favorite buttons to push are those of the pay phones. And she has some interesting conversations with the nobodies on the other end!
I'm not the only person privvy to this show - there are three young men sitting in the area - one's a Marine, one's in the Navy and I'm pretty sure the other one is a civilian, but I'm, not sure - and enjoying Logan's complete disregard for social boundaries. In fact, it seems like to four of them have become buddies. As Logan is exploring other areas of the waiting area, these three guys are looking on one of the pay phones to find out its number (Logan's mom has promised her that, if a phone rings, she can answer it).
Logan is entirely engrossed in dancing her way in a circle in front of her mom when the phone rings. In complete patronization of her daughter, the young mother (who is wearing heels and has bleach-white hair topped with a glintzy silver beany) rushes over to the phone with her daughter and picks her up to answer it.
"Hello?!" Logan says.
"Hello," it's the Marine, one of Logan's new friends, as he does a clumsy James Bond wannabe move to hide himself behind the chairs.
"Who is this?" she squeals.
"Why, it's Santa Clause!"
"Santa Clause!"
"Yes Logan, this is Santa Clause. And I have written here that you've been a VERY good girl!"
"Mommy, it's Santa Clause!" Logan's eyes get rounder and bigger than they were when she discovered she could sit in the suitcase-measurer-basket.
"Tell him what you want for Christmas," Mom prompts.
"I want toys and a drum set and - what else, mom?" Mom suggests tools and clothes and shoes too. "And tools and clothes and shoes too!"
"Ho ho ho, well I'll see what I can do! Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Santa!" Logan hangs up the phone and is so excited that she runs over to me and shouts, "I talked to Santa!"
At the risk of getting sentimental, I'd like to point out how misery can bring complete strangers into company that finds charming the potentially irksome antics of a 3-year old whose been stuck in an airport for more hours than she sleeps at night. And what's more - The graciousness of grown men who realize the importance of encouraging the creativity of imagination and indulging in a childhood story to make it real for a rambunctious little girl named Logan.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
'The Waitin' is the Hardest Part...'
T minus 4 days and I will be in the airport in Des Moines, Iowa, waiting for my sister to pick me up. And to say I have mixed feelings about it is a bit of an understatement.
Am I excited to go home? Of course! It's always wonderful to be with my family. But at the same time, things have sort of leveled off here with the roomies and life - I've finally readjusted from my last trip home - and now it's transition time again.
I'm starting to wonder if life is just one tranisition after another. It sure seems that way sometimes.
Regardless of the emotional implications that come from adjusting from one environment to another, I'm glad for the opportunity to experience it all. It's definitely forcing me to grow into a flexible human being!
Work has been completely unstressful, which is amazing! I don't think I've had this low of a level of stress since 4th grade!
But after last week's confirmation class, I think we deserve a little bit of a lull! We had a pretty intense class, which involved blindfolding 70 14-17 year olds and requiring them to be absolutely quiet for 40 minutes. We couldn't have done it without the Holy Spirit's help!
The overall theme for the year is "You have a God who loves you and will be at your side, no matter what". The sub-theme we've been focusing on the last few weeks is the idea of being named - What is our name, and what name does God call us? The first week we had the kids draw comic strips of different situations in which they are called different names - when they're with their friends, what do their parents call them, and what does God call them? - and how what they are called makes them feel.
The meditation last week played off the last question - What does God call you? - by focusing on the auditory sense (hence the blindfolds). The whole thing started off with a dialogue between a person and God - God saying things like "I love you"; "I created you"; "You are mine", and the person saying "But I don't feel loved"; "I wish I'd never been born"; "I'm alone" - things everyoen feels at some point in their life, but emotions that teens most likely encounter on a daily basis.
Then we read part of a story we read the week before about a gang member who was in a juvenile detention center, talking with a priest, and shedding his tough layers, until he gets to the point where he tells the priest what his mom calls him when "she's not pissed at me".
Since last week was the feast day of The Virgen of Guadalupe (she's HUGE in the Latino culture), we also read part of the story of Juan Diego (if you're interested in finding out what it is, look it up! It's a charming story).
Mingled in with these stories and dialogue were a few songs - one being Tupac's 'Dear Momma', which really pulled them in.
Man, I can't tell you how amazing it was to see these kids go from not being fidgety and unable to resist lifting their blindfolds to sitting quietly, mouthing the words to a song they knew by heart and really connecting to what we were saying. They GOT it.
What happened last Tuesday with the kids is one of those events that gives you the energy and inspiration to keep going in spite of the challenges and failures that people in ministry/education/anything having to do with youth face. Praise the Lord for that!
Am I excited to go home? Of course! It's always wonderful to be with my family. But at the same time, things have sort of leveled off here with the roomies and life - I've finally readjusted from my last trip home - and now it's transition time again.
I'm starting to wonder if life is just one tranisition after another. It sure seems that way sometimes.
Regardless of the emotional implications that come from adjusting from one environment to another, I'm glad for the opportunity to experience it all. It's definitely forcing me to grow into a flexible human being!
Work has been completely unstressful, which is amazing! I don't think I've had this low of a level of stress since 4th grade!
But after last week's confirmation class, I think we deserve a little bit of a lull! We had a pretty intense class, which involved blindfolding 70 14-17 year olds and requiring them to be absolutely quiet for 40 minutes. We couldn't have done it without the Holy Spirit's help!
The overall theme for the year is "You have a God who loves you and will be at your side, no matter what". The sub-theme we've been focusing on the last few weeks is the idea of being named - What is our name, and what name does God call us? The first week we had the kids draw comic strips of different situations in which they are called different names - when they're with their friends, what do their parents call them, and what does God call them? - and how what they are called makes them feel.
The meditation last week played off the last question - What does God call you? - by focusing on the auditory sense (hence the blindfolds). The whole thing started off with a dialogue between a person and God - God saying things like "I love you"; "I created you"; "You are mine", and the person saying "But I don't feel loved"; "I wish I'd never been born"; "I'm alone" - things everyoen feels at some point in their life, but emotions that teens most likely encounter on a daily basis.
Then we read part of a story we read the week before about a gang member who was in a juvenile detention center, talking with a priest, and shedding his tough layers, until he gets to the point where he tells the priest what his mom calls him when "she's not pissed at me".
Since last week was the feast day of The Virgen of Guadalupe (she's HUGE in the Latino culture), we also read part of the story of Juan Diego (if you're interested in finding out what it is, look it up! It's a charming story).
Mingled in with these stories and dialogue were a few songs - one being Tupac's 'Dear Momma', which really pulled them in.
Man, I can't tell you how amazing it was to see these kids go from not being fidgety and unable to resist lifting their blindfolds to sitting quietly, mouthing the words to a song they knew by heart and really connecting to what we were saying. They GOT it.
What happened last Tuesday with the kids is one of those events that gives you the energy and inspiration to keep going in spite of the challenges and failures that people in ministry/education/anything having to do with youth face. Praise the Lord for that!
Friday, December 5, 2008
At the risk of admitting how behind the times I am:
Thanksgiving is over, and I have fully recovered from a long weekend of travel, socializing, eating, playing and just plain fun-having. It was hard being away from my family for Thanksgiving, but being in Phoenix with 30 or so fellow JV's and playing football under a beautiful blue, sunny sky and 70 degree weather was a great distraction! Oh and let's not forget the spread - TWO banquet tables' worth of food wonderland!
We even got to take a hike (literally!) up Camelback Mountain the next day, which was a great way to work off the pumpkin pie-bread pudding-Irish candy smorgasbord of desserts that graced my pallet the previous evening. The hike up was demanding - we were essentially rock climbing without ropes at one pound - and the hike down was twice as tough. It took us about 3 hours to complete the 3 mile trip. The sore legs and scraped hands were definitely worth the view!
By Saturday most of the JVs had left (they had 14-18 hour trips back up to northern California. Talk about dedication!), but the guy who rode down with us went to the border on Saturday morning to help an organization called "No Mas Muertes" (No More Deaths) in their efforts to provide water for people who have crossed the border and are trying to find their way, so my roommate and I hung around until his return on Sunday.
I had gotten sick on Friday night and so spend most of Saturday laying around, trying to stop the room from spinning. It felt like such a waste of a day - I could have done some serious site-seeing in that time - but not being sick the next day was worth it.
We went to the church that the Phoenix JVs frequent on Sunday morning and (at the risk of sounding ethno- and lingo-centric) I realized how much I miss masses in English and, more specifically, how much I miss Newman. Sometimes it's just easier to connect to God on a "worship" level when you're familiar with what's going on (not to discount the value that struggle and discomfort offer to spirituality, by any means...).
But perhaps comfort is destructive in church too: I was so comfortable that, as a short, 12-year old boy wearing glasses and a green shirt dragged his feet up to the lecturn to read the first reading, I put my own feet up on kneeler in front of me. It was put up and out of the way and looked like the perfect place to put my feet (you can't tell me that you've never taken advantage of these convenient foot rests). The rest of the congregation settled into silence to hear the first proclamation of God's word and as I settled my feet on this combination of wood-and-metal in front of me, a loud "squeakBOOM" echoed through the church. The kneeler had come loose under the weight of my feet and crashed to the tiled floor. I did my best to play it cool, but the young woman next to me (a fellow JV) couldn't help but look at me and laugh - as everyone else looked around to see who had committed this act of vandalism - she might as well have stood up, waved those glowing sticks airtraffic directors use to tell red eye planes where to go after they land at my head and shouted "IT WAS HER!"
Anyway, I guess I was sort of like Jesus in that moment: I walked in and destroyed the temple. Oops. :)
That afternoon we packed the car and headed back to LA. It was smooth sailing for the most part...until we hit traffic so bad that we were going 25 mph for 3 hours! It was a pretty annoying situation, but fortunately I had brought my portable DVD player (living simply?), so we at least had a bit of entertainment.
And with the end of "Being John Malkovich" came the end of our Phoenix Thanksgiving. We dropped off our passenger and headed home, anxious to get out of the car and into our own beds.
Thanksgiving is over, and I have fully recovered from a long weekend of travel, socializing, eating, playing and just plain fun-having. It was hard being away from my family for Thanksgiving, but being in Phoenix with 30 or so fellow JV's and playing football under a beautiful blue, sunny sky and 70 degree weather was a great distraction! Oh and let's not forget the spread - TWO banquet tables' worth of food wonderland!
We even got to take a hike (literally!) up Camelback Mountain the next day, which was a great way to work off the pumpkin pie-bread pudding-Irish candy smorgasbord of desserts that graced my pallet the previous evening. The hike up was demanding - we were essentially rock climbing without ropes at one pound - and the hike down was twice as tough. It took us about 3 hours to complete the 3 mile trip. The sore legs and scraped hands were definitely worth the view!
By Saturday most of the JVs had left (they had 14-18 hour trips back up to northern California. Talk about dedication!), but the guy who rode down with us went to the border on Saturday morning to help an organization called "No Mas Muertes" (No More Deaths) in their efforts to provide water for people who have crossed the border and are trying to find their way, so my roommate and I hung around until his return on Sunday.
I had gotten sick on Friday night and so spend most of Saturday laying around, trying to stop the room from spinning. It felt like such a waste of a day - I could have done some serious site-seeing in that time - but not being sick the next day was worth it.
We went to the church that the Phoenix JVs frequent on Sunday morning and (at the risk of sounding ethno- and lingo-centric) I realized how much I miss masses in English and, more specifically, how much I miss Newman. Sometimes it's just easier to connect to God on a "worship" level when you're familiar with what's going on (not to discount the value that struggle and discomfort offer to spirituality, by any means...).
But perhaps comfort is destructive in church too: I was so comfortable that, as a short, 12-year old boy wearing glasses and a green shirt dragged his feet up to the lecturn to read the first reading, I put my own feet up on kneeler in front of me. It was put up and out of the way and looked like the perfect place to put my feet (you can't tell me that you've never taken advantage of these convenient foot rests). The rest of the congregation settled into silence to hear the first proclamation of God's word and as I settled my feet on this combination of wood-and-metal in front of me, a loud "squeakBOOM" echoed through the church. The kneeler had come loose under the weight of my feet and crashed to the tiled floor. I did my best to play it cool, but the young woman next to me (a fellow JV) couldn't help but look at me and laugh - as everyone else looked around to see who had committed this act of vandalism - she might as well have stood up, waved those glowing sticks airtraffic directors use to tell red eye planes where to go after they land at my head and shouted "IT WAS HER!"
Anyway, I guess I was sort of like Jesus in that moment: I walked in and destroyed the temple. Oops. :)
That afternoon we packed the car and headed back to LA. It was smooth sailing for the most part...until we hit traffic so bad that we were going 25 mph for 3 hours! It was a pretty annoying situation, but fortunately I had brought my portable DVD player (living simply?), so we at least had a bit of entertainment.
And with the end of "Being John Malkovich" came the end of our Phoenix Thanksgiving. We dropped off our passenger and headed home, anxious to get out of the car and into our own beds.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Personality Conflict?
I'll be honest: The last week or so has been a little rough. On top of leaving my family behind to come back to LA, I picked up a nasty cold somewhere along the way (fortunately, after 2 weeks of being a useless blob on the couch I finally feel like a human again!), and things have felt less than comfortable in my community.
When I got back from Wisconsin, naturally I felt a little bit out of the loop - after all, I missed 6 days of community goings-on and "bonding" time! At the same time, I didn't receive a very warm homecoming and quite frankly, I wasn't sure people were even glad to have me back. And it's not even that they said anything (directly, anyway) to make me think that I didn't belong there...but their tones of voice and body language suggested otherwise.
It took me a few days, but I realized that, coming into JVC, my expectations for living in community were pretty high. And, to no fault of their own, my community has not met them. I guess I expected to be best buds with everyone in my house - or at least one or two of them - and we would all care for eachother on a friend level. I had hoped to feel accepted, encouraged, affirmed, lifted up and supported.
But I don't. I feel rejected by them a lot, made wrong, misunderstood. As a result I've become reluctant when it comes to taking part in their conversations - if people are just going to shoot down what I say, or make it wrong for the sake of making themselves right, why bother?
I heard once that when it comes to roommates, you don't necessarily have to like them - you just have to be able to live with them. By no means am I saying that I don't love the people my housemates are, and by no means am I saying that they don't each have gifts they bring to the community.
What I am saying is that I was wrong to think that I could have tight relationships with 4 strangers and just because I was (maybe still am) willing to build solid friendships doesn't mean that they are.
So pray for us. That God would unite us as a community. That would we lift each other up and cheer each other on as we stumble through our time of service. That we would see the agreeable characteristics in one another than we would things to disagree on.
When I got back from Wisconsin, naturally I felt a little bit out of the loop - after all, I missed 6 days of community goings-on and "bonding" time! At the same time, I didn't receive a very warm homecoming and quite frankly, I wasn't sure people were even glad to have me back. And it's not even that they said anything (directly, anyway) to make me think that I didn't belong there...but their tones of voice and body language suggested otherwise.
It took me a few days, but I realized that, coming into JVC, my expectations for living in community were pretty high. And, to no fault of their own, my community has not met them. I guess I expected to be best buds with everyone in my house - or at least one or two of them - and we would all care for eachother on a friend level. I had hoped to feel accepted, encouraged, affirmed, lifted up and supported.
But I don't. I feel rejected by them a lot, made wrong, misunderstood. As a result I've become reluctant when it comes to taking part in their conversations - if people are just going to shoot down what I say, or make it wrong for the sake of making themselves right, why bother?
I heard once that when it comes to roommates, you don't necessarily have to like them - you just have to be able to live with them. By no means am I saying that I don't love the people my housemates are, and by no means am I saying that they don't each have gifts they bring to the community.
What I am saying is that I was wrong to think that I could have tight relationships with 4 strangers and just because I was (maybe still am) willing to build solid friendships doesn't mean that they are.
So pray for us. That God would unite us as a community. That would we lift each other up and cheer each other on as we stumble through our time of service. That we would see the agreeable characteristics in one another than we would things to disagree on.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Home really is sweet. I'm not even kidding.
I made the trip home this weekend to see Chuck's musical. You see, I made a deal with him: If he got the lead, I'd come home to see it (then I bought my ticket, not knowing if he even got a part).
And he got the lead role! And words fail me when it comes to describing how FANTASTIC he was, and how PROUD of him I am.
It's been a great weekend - Dad picked me up at the airport Thursday afternoon and we spent the 45 minute ride home catching up, and it was like I'd never left. We spent some time as a family on Thursday night (minus Steph because she wouldn't arrive until Friday night), and Friday night was pretty chill. Saturday we saw the show and were so BLOWN away (Chuck never sings like that at home!) that we came back this afternoon for a second helping.
I just love my family and it always tears at my heart when I have to leave them.
But my heart also knows that right now it's being called to L.A., to love the kids and people in my life there.
I'm not gonna lie - it hurts. And it's going to be hard going back.
At the same time though, I try to live my life the way I want it: without regret that I can avoid. This opportunity is part of that philosophy, so if I stick to what's comfortable and wonderful here at home, I'm not going to grow into the person God is calling me to be.
Yep, home is sweet, which is why leaving it is so hard. But (to add another cliche) distance has indeed made my heart fonder, and it'll be all the more sweet when I return again.
And he got the lead role! And words fail me when it comes to describing how FANTASTIC he was, and how PROUD of him I am.
It's been a great weekend - Dad picked me up at the airport Thursday afternoon and we spent the 45 minute ride home catching up, and it was like I'd never left. We spent some time as a family on Thursday night (minus Steph because she wouldn't arrive until Friday night), and Friday night was pretty chill. Saturday we saw the show and were so BLOWN away (Chuck never sings like that at home!) that we came back this afternoon for a second helping.
I just love my family and it always tears at my heart when I have to leave them.
But my heart also knows that right now it's being called to L.A., to love the kids and people in my life there.
I'm not gonna lie - it hurts. And it's going to be hard going back.
At the same time though, I try to live my life the way I want it: without regret that I can avoid. This opportunity is part of that philosophy, so if I stick to what's comfortable and wonderful here at home, I'm not going to grow into the person God is calling me to be.
Yep, home is sweet, which is why leaving it is so hard. But (to add another cliche) distance has indeed made my heart fonder, and it'll be all the more sweet when I return again.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Appreciation Station
The door to my office is open right now and the noise of after school is filtering in: little boys are kicking balls, little girls are squealing, and the adults are hollering (probably because the boys are kicking balls into the street and the girls are squealing because they're pulling each other's hair).
And I'm still smiling because David (one of the teens I work with) stopped by with his friend Nataly, gave me a hug and made me sing him happy birthday. I love my job!
And I'm still smiling because David (one of the teens I work with) stopped by with his friend Nataly, gave me a hug and made me sing him happy birthday. I love my job!
Monday, November 3, 2008
If you're going to San Francisco...
To say that I had a great Halloween weekend would be a drastic understatement - it was a fantastic weekend. My roommate Alissa and I, along with another JV from a different LA house, made the 6-hour journey up to San Francisco for the weekend. And boy did we make the most of it!
We spent all of Thursday night driving and most of Friday morning catching up on sleep. But once we roused ourselves out of bed, we put on our tourist caps and ventured out into the city. We stopped by Pier 39, where we watched the sea lions as they barked at each other and flopped around on bobbing docks in the water. Though it was foggy, we caught a few glimpses of Alacatrez and even saw the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge from where we were. I think we may have even passed by Jon Heder (the guy who plays Napoleon Dynamite) as we made our way through Fisherman's Wharf to explore more of the area.
Our meter was about to expire, so the three of us climbed into the red Toyota Paseo we borrowed from DM and started driving toward the Golden Gate Bridge. We didn't intend to actually cross it but one thing led to another and soon we were flying through the toll booths (it costs $6 to get back into the city via the bridge! Six dollars!) and beginning our love affair with that famous red suspension bridge. We were sure to make the most of our time on the other side - took tons of "glamour" shots with her and then drove up into the Marin Headlands where we basked in an incredible view of the whole city.
It was amazing, but you can only stare at a bridge for so long before it loses its allure, so we ventured back to the city. We had justified the $6 toll by this time: Really, it only cost us $2 a person to see this famous piece of architecture and it was worth it. As we crept forward in the toll booth line, we gathered our fee, and proudly presented it to the toll booth operator who pointed to the star on his shirt and waved us through. Without taking our $6. The day couldn't have gotten much better!
After a bit of a rest and some dinner (delicious Pakistani/Indian food in the Mission part of SF), all 10 of us (the 3 of us from LA and then the JVs we were staying with) put our costumes on and headed out to join the celebration!
And a celebration it was indeed. I was dressed as an "oxymoron" (I wore a sign that had the word "oxy" and then a picture of G.W.), and at first I was a bit nervous about such a politically charged costume, but the people of SF are FANTASTIC and it was a HUGE hit! It was a lot of fun to pass someone on the street and a few seconds later have them yell out "OXYMORON!"
I passed lots of interesting characters on the street myself. Captain Jack Sparrow; Aladdin; Barack Obama; a guy dressed up like a baseball player from the movie 'The Warriors'; a mormon or two; lots of men running around in their underwear...or less (did I mention we wandered around the gay district most of the night?)
After another day of recovery on Saturday, we headed over to the JV house in San Jose and hung out with them for a while. As the evening neared, we geared up for Round 2: Halloween at the Haunted Convent. The JVs who live in San Jose had planned a huge party for anyone and everyone who wanted to come, and they had a great turn out. I don't doubt that some of the people who showed up are still recovering from it today!
Sunday was a pretty chill day - we woke up, ate delicious m&m pancakes for breakfast, shot the breeze for a bit, stuffed ourselves back into the Paseo and ventured home.
Overall, a VERY successful weekend. And I'm looking forward to this coming weekend, when I can stay home, go to bed early and watch lots of movies. Or something like that ;)
We spent all of Thursday night driving and most of Friday morning catching up on sleep. But once we roused ourselves out of bed, we put on our tourist caps and ventured out into the city. We stopped by Pier 39, where we watched the sea lions as they barked at each other and flopped around on bobbing docks in the water. Though it was foggy, we caught a few glimpses of Alacatrez and even saw the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge from where we were. I think we may have even passed by Jon Heder (the guy who plays Napoleon Dynamite) as we made our way through Fisherman's Wharf to explore more of the area.
Our meter was about to expire, so the three of us climbed into the red Toyota Paseo we borrowed from DM and started driving toward the Golden Gate Bridge. We didn't intend to actually cross it but one thing led to another and soon we were flying through the toll booths (it costs $6 to get back into the city via the bridge! Six dollars!) and beginning our love affair with that famous red suspension bridge. We were sure to make the most of our time on the other side - took tons of "glamour" shots with her and then drove up into the Marin Headlands where we basked in an incredible view of the whole city.
It was amazing, but you can only stare at a bridge for so long before it loses its allure, so we ventured back to the city. We had justified the $6 toll by this time: Really, it only cost us $2 a person to see this famous piece of architecture and it was worth it. As we crept forward in the toll booth line, we gathered our fee, and proudly presented it to the toll booth operator who pointed to the star on his shirt and waved us through. Without taking our $6. The day couldn't have gotten much better!
After a bit of a rest and some dinner (delicious Pakistani/Indian food in the Mission part of SF), all 10 of us (the 3 of us from LA and then the JVs we were staying with) put our costumes on and headed out to join the celebration!
And a celebration it was indeed. I was dressed as an "oxymoron" (I wore a sign that had the word "oxy" and then a picture of G.W.), and at first I was a bit nervous about such a politically charged costume, but the people of SF are FANTASTIC and it was a HUGE hit! It was a lot of fun to pass someone on the street and a few seconds later have them yell out "OXYMORON!"
I passed lots of interesting characters on the street myself. Captain Jack Sparrow; Aladdin; Barack Obama; a guy dressed up like a baseball player from the movie 'The Warriors'; a mormon or two; lots of men running around in their underwear...or less (did I mention we wandered around the gay district most of the night?)
After another day of recovery on Saturday, we headed over to the JV house in San Jose and hung out with them for a while. As the evening neared, we geared up for Round 2: Halloween at the Haunted Convent. The JVs who live in San Jose had planned a huge party for anyone and everyone who wanted to come, and they had a great turn out. I don't doubt that some of the people who showed up are still recovering from it today!
Sunday was a pretty chill day - we woke up, ate delicious m&m pancakes for breakfast, shot the breeze for a bit, stuffed ourselves back into the Paseo and ventured home.
Overall, a VERY successful weekend. And I'm looking forward to this coming weekend, when I can stay home, go to bed early and watch lots of movies. Or something like that ;)
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Generosity goes a long way
It's no secret that Dolores Mission functions primarily on the generosity of the people in LA who have money. As a result, I have attended two fundraising dinners in the last two weeks, have "rubbed elbows" with the "elite" of the community, and have observed the etiquette that comes with asking people for money. I have also observed how the willingness of others to share that with which God has blessed them has helped countless people in Boyle Heights and have been amazed at the readiness with which these people share.
Last night's fundraiser for Dolores Mission's (DM) art program serves as a great example: As they started the recognition/fundraiser portion of the evening (after fabulous hors d'oeuvres, a delicious fajita buffet and an open margarita bar), Father Scott (DM's pastor) shared with everyone that an anonymous person in the crowd made an incredible offer: if the crowd raised $12,500, that person would match the donation, helping DM get half way to their goal of $40,000.
Before the night was over, the event raised $45,000 for the art program. And it wasn't even a huge party - mainly family and friends of DM's art teacher and her parents. While that might seem like a huge budget for an art program, it's a bi-annual budget that covers all art-related expenses, including a newly remodeled art room, supplies and trips to art museums in LA (next week is the field trip to the Museum of Latin American Art, and I'm excited to be a chaperone!!!).
By offering a chunk of their change, these people have enabled DM's kids to express themselves in a positive way. Amid the the junk and violence and hardness in their lives, the kids can become absorbed in creativity and step out of their reality, even just for a little while.
Last night's fundraiser for Dolores Mission's (DM) art program serves as a great example: As they started the recognition/fundraiser portion of the evening (after fabulous hors d'oeuvres, a delicious fajita buffet and an open margarita bar), Father Scott (DM's pastor) shared with everyone that an anonymous person in the crowd made an incredible offer: if the crowd raised $12,500, that person would match the donation, helping DM get half way to their goal of $40,000.
Before the night was over, the event raised $45,000 for the art program. And it wasn't even a huge party - mainly family and friends of DM's art teacher and her parents. While that might seem like a huge budget for an art program, it's a bi-annual budget that covers all art-related expenses, including a newly remodeled art room, supplies and trips to art museums in LA (next week is the field trip to the Museum of Latin American Art, and I'm excited to be a chaperone!!!).
By offering a chunk of their change, these people have enabled DM's kids to express themselves in a positive way. Amid the the junk and violence and hardness in their lives, the kids can become absorbed in creativity and step out of their reality, even just for a little while.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Here at Dolores Mission there is a lot of emphasis put on the idea of "walking with". It's a fairly new concept to me, and every day I am exposed to new ways in which I am "walking with" the people in my life.
Two weekends ago the car belonging to two of the youth I work with (Oscar and Gloria, an 18 and 19 year old couple who are married and have a 6 month old) was stolen. They were in the process of selling it so they could save up the $500 required of them by the shelter they are staying at (the shelter isn't charging then that much to stay there, it's just their attempt at teaching people the importance of saving money...). Since they moved into a new neighborhood, they were in new territory, which meant that area gang members either didn't recognize the car or simply just didn't care and considered its presence an open invitation to claim it as theirs.
So the car got stolen on Sunday and on Monday the kids got a call from the police: Their car had been towed and was in the impound lot. It would cost them $187 to get it back. If it were me, the $187 would be plucked from my not-huge-but-sufficient savings account with a bit of disdain, I would pay the fee, get my car and forget about the whole thing in 2 days. But for Oscar and Gloria just gathering the money was a day-long fiasco that resulted in them borrowing a ten-spot here and a fifty there until they came up with all of it, minus the 20 cents tacked on the end.
Since they didn't have transportation (hello, Captain Obvious), it became my responsbility to help them regain possession of their vehicle. So that night we took the 15 minute drive to the office, waited in line for 15 or so minutes, found out that the car was another 15 minute drive in the direction from which we came, and made our (less than) merry way to the impound lot. Charred metal frames and crunched up steel greeted us as we walked into the lot. Fortunately none of those cars was Oscar and Gloria's. All of us breathed a sigh of relief when we saw their blue Honda sitting peacefully, completely intact save for the missing battery under the hood and absent door knobs which whoever stole the car thoughtfully removed.
The car was okay, Oscar had a spare battery in the back of the car (which, oddly, the jackers didn't take) and was excited to get it home. Then the 6'5, 300 pound impound lot attendant informed us that we needed to go back to the office and get a release form in order to take the car. It was 6:20 and the office closed at 6:30. There was no way we could have made it back in time.
Skip to 8 am the next day: I was waiting in my office for Oscar and Gloria to get there so they didn't have to pay another $34 storage fee. Soon it was 8:30 and I was getting cranky because I gave up my morning plans to help them out. They arrived about 8:45 and we made our (increasingly) merry way down to the office. We only waited 10 minutes this time, they paid their fee and we headed back to the impound lot. Once Oscar got the battery in and hooked up and the same lot attendant helped him get the car started, their clean blue Honda with shiny silver rims was rearing to get on the road.
It's not a glamorous story by any means. And even though I was just the chauffeur for Oscar and Gloria, I wasn't above feeling what they were feeling: The hopelessness of not having enough cash to get their car back; the panic of not knowing if the car would be one of those charcoal skeletons or if it would function; the frustration of bureaucracy; the relief of finding that nothing more will go wrong (for the moment).
And that's what "walking with" is. It's putting yourself in the shoes of the people who are in your life and empathizing with their situation. To have the ability to humble yourself and look at people not as what society tells you they are, but as they ARE takes an incredible amount of self-confidence and practice. I'm not always there, but I'm learning. And that's the best part.
Two weekends ago the car belonging to two of the youth I work with (Oscar and Gloria, an 18 and 19 year old couple who are married and have a 6 month old) was stolen. They were in the process of selling it so they could save up the $500 required of them by the shelter they are staying at (the shelter isn't charging then that much to stay there, it's just their attempt at teaching people the importance of saving money...). Since they moved into a new neighborhood, they were in new territory, which meant that area gang members either didn't recognize the car or simply just didn't care and considered its presence an open invitation to claim it as theirs.
So the car got stolen on Sunday and on Monday the kids got a call from the police: Their car had been towed and was in the impound lot. It would cost them $187 to get it back. If it were me, the $187 would be plucked from my not-huge-but-sufficient savings account with a bit of disdain, I would pay the fee, get my car and forget about the whole thing in 2 days. But for Oscar and Gloria just gathering the money was a day-long fiasco that resulted in them borrowing a ten-spot here and a fifty there until they came up with all of it, minus the 20 cents tacked on the end.
Since they didn't have transportation (hello, Captain Obvious), it became my responsbility to help them regain possession of their vehicle. So that night we took the 15 minute drive to the office, waited in line for 15 or so minutes, found out that the car was another 15 minute drive in the direction from which we came, and made our (less than) merry way to the impound lot. Charred metal frames and crunched up steel greeted us as we walked into the lot. Fortunately none of those cars was Oscar and Gloria's. All of us breathed a sigh of relief when we saw their blue Honda sitting peacefully, completely intact save for the missing battery under the hood and absent door knobs which whoever stole the car thoughtfully removed.
The car was okay, Oscar had a spare battery in the back of the car (which, oddly, the jackers didn't take) and was excited to get it home. Then the 6'5, 300 pound impound lot attendant informed us that we needed to go back to the office and get a release form in order to take the car. It was 6:20 and the office closed at 6:30. There was no way we could have made it back in time.
Skip to 8 am the next day: I was waiting in my office for Oscar and Gloria to get there so they didn't have to pay another $34 storage fee. Soon it was 8:30 and I was getting cranky because I gave up my morning plans to help them out. They arrived about 8:45 and we made our (increasingly) merry way down to the office. We only waited 10 minutes this time, they paid their fee and we headed back to the impound lot. Once Oscar got the battery in and hooked up and the same lot attendant helped him get the car started, their clean blue Honda with shiny silver rims was rearing to get on the road.
It's not a glamorous story by any means. And even though I was just the chauffeur for Oscar and Gloria, I wasn't above feeling what they were feeling: The hopelessness of not having enough cash to get their car back; the panic of not knowing if the car would be one of those charcoal skeletons or if it would function; the frustration of bureaucracy; the relief of finding that nothing more will go wrong (for the moment).
And that's what "walking with" is. It's putting yourself in the shoes of the people who are in your life and empathizing with their situation. To have the ability to humble yourself and look at people not as what society tells you they are, but as they ARE takes an incredible amount of self-confidence and practice. I'm not always there, but I'm learning. And that's the best part.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Hope and Frustration
Life sure has been crazy the last week and a half or so. Last week was filled with excitement and hope as the neighborhood of Boyle Heights (where I work) voted to partner with LA Voice, an organization that specializes in community organizing. The goal of this partnership is to make the streets and neighborhoods safer for the kids. It’s a huge step and hopefully one that will make a difference.
Things are starting to heat up between three of the rival gangs in the area and there have been reports of drug dealing going on just outside of where I work. It’s scary, but sadly exciting at the same time – this is really my first experience with gang activity, and at this point I don’t have the schema in my brain to tell me that the danger is real and I should be more vigilant than curious. I’d really hate to end up like the cat…
Not to worry though, I’ve been assured by several people that as we’ll be safe as long as we’re not walking around or riding around on our bikes after dark.
I took some of the youth I work with to a job fair last week and even though it seemed like a complete waste of time (none of the jobs were close enough and someone told the guys that their resumes sucked…resumes which I helped them with), it was a great chance to bond with the kids. Since then I’ve noticed that there is a different level of interaction between us now – one that’s more comfortable and familiar. I like that a lot.
There are two girls from Loyola Marymount University who I am working with to start a young women’s ministry, which is a huge need in this community. Last week was the second time we got together with the two different groups of leaders, and I’m feeling really good about it. I think the LMU girls are starting to see that it’s going to take time for the girls from the “hood” to really accept the two “white girls” (even though one is of Filipino origin) and trust them, but things look promising so far.
On a more personal level, there seems to be a bit of a personality conflict between one of my housemates and me. And it’s not a conflict I have willingly become a part of, which makes it even more frustrating and confusing. It’s more like this particular roommate has self-esteem and security issues and feels like she has to prove herself better than me (and the rest of the house, although it seems to be focused mostly on me) and some of her actions indicate that she’s in competition to one-up me. I have no interest in competing with her to “win” a dominant spot in our community or whatever it is she’s after, but her passive-aggressive behavior is draining, not only to me, but to the rest of my housemates as well. I feel bad that she feels like she doesn’t “measure up” or whatever, but seriously, how old are we? I’m 24 years old and I feel like I’m dealing with middle school issues.
But looking at that situation makes me so incredibly thankful for the way God has provided so many opportunities for me to grow into the person He wants me to be. How blessed am I that I can look back at all of the hard times I’ve had (which, at the time, I wished I didn’t have to go through) and see how they’ve shaped me? I like where I’m at in terms of who I am and what I’m becoming. It’s incredible to me that I can actually see God’s figure prints all over my life.
And I love that I don’t feel like my self-worth is tied up in being better than those around me – that instead it is fully dependent on the fact that I’m a child of God, that He took the time to think me up, and hasn’t finished creating me yet.
Things are starting to heat up between three of the rival gangs in the area and there have been reports of drug dealing going on just outside of where I work. It’s scary, but sadly exciting at the same time – this is really my first experience with gang activity, and at this point I don’t have the schema in my brain to tell me that the danger is real and I should be more vigilant than curious. I’d really hate to end up like the cat…
Not to worry though, I’ve been assured by several people that as we’ll be safe as long as we’re not walking around or riding around on our bikes after dark.
I took some of the youth I work with to a job fair last week and even though it seemed like a complete waste of time (none of the jobs were close enough and someone told the guys that their resumes sucked…resumes which I helped them with), it was a great chance to bond with the kids. Since then I’ve noticed that there is a different level of interaction between us now – one that’s more comfortable and familiar. I like that a lot.
There are two girls from Loyola Marymount University who I am working with to start a young women’s ministry, which is a huge need in this community. Last week was the second time we got together with the two different groups of leaders, and I’m feeling really good about it. I think the LMU girls are starting to see that it’s going to take time for the girls from the “hood” to really accept the two “white girls” (even though one is of Filipino origin) and trust them, but things look promising so far.
On a more personal level, there seems to be a bit of a personality conflict between one of my housemates and me. And it’s not a conflict I have willingly become a part of, which makes it even more frustrating and confusing. It’s more like this particular roommate has self-esteem and security issues and feels like she has to prove herself better than me (and the rest of the house, although it seems to be focused mostly on me) and some of her actions indicate that she’s in competition to one-up me. I have no interest in competing with her to “win” a dominant spot in our community or whatever it is she’s after, but her passive-aggressive behavior is draining, not only to me, but to the rest of my housemates as well. I feel bad that she feels like she doesn’t “measure up” or whatever, but seriously, how old are we? I’m 24 years old and I feel like I’m dealing with middle school issues.
But looking at that situation makes me so incredibly thankful for the way God has provided so many opportunities for me to grow into the person He wants me to be. How blessed am I that I can look back at all of the hard times I’ve had (which, at the time, I wished I didn’t have to go through) and see how they’ve shaped me? I like where I’m at in terms of who I am and what I’m becoming. It’s incredible to me that I can actually see God’s figure prints all over my life.
And I love that I don’t feel like my self-worth is tied up in being better than those around me – that instead it is fully dependent on the fact that I’m a child of God, that He took the time to think me up, and hasn’t finished creating me yet.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Hula Hoop Samurais
It's 10:30 am, the marine layer which has covered most of LA this morning is burning off and the sun is starting to make it's presence known. It's still cool, but the heat and a hint of humidity float on the breeze like bright orange booeys bobbing in the ocean, and will be undeniable by 2 this afternoon.
I'm sitting on a bench in the school's playground, watching my roommate Sara do her job, which at the moment is opening smooshed Susie Q's and bags of fruit snacks for hungry, uniformed kindergarteners who still have breakfast smeared on their cheeks and blue polo shirts. One chubby boy, Jose, has managed to smother a cracker in imitation cheese and stick it to the side of the bench. As he unsticks his snack and brings it to his wide-open mouth, Sara orders him to throw it away, a command that results in her chasing him around the playground as he holds the cracker out in front of him (presumably out of Sara's reach) and his round belly bounces with each little step and ends in him pouting because she took his dirt-crusted-germ-infested cracker away from him.
While Sara is managing Jose's crisis, there are a few young girls in plaid jumpers practicing their hula hooping skills. This could be a normal scene, only their necks are the point of balance, not their hips, a concept all the girls but one have grasped - this other poor girl, who is adorable in her efforts, tries to make the hoop go around on her neck, but instead of moving her head back and forth wiggles her hips instead. I have no doubt she'll be a fantastic salsa dancer some day.
The girls aren't the only kids on the playground who are getting use out of these striped plastic circles: The boys have claimed domain over the kinked, bent and otherwise unspinnable hoops and are using them to "fight" each other as they wave them in the air like a ninja would his nunchucks, or like Jackie Chan would any random object that happened to be in the scene. Complete with "hee-ya" and "woosh woosh" sound effects, these boys have managed to escape their reality of poverty and socio-economic oppression into a fantasy world of heroism and victory over the conqueror's crushing grasp. With hula hoops.
Surprisingly no one gets hurt, until the end of recess that is, when the 8th graders come out for their play time and a boy comes sprinting from out of nowhere, steps on one of the hula hoops, slips and lands flat on his back on the black top. It's a comical incident, but one that is met with relief when the boy gets up laughing and Sara realizes she doesn't have to make a trip to the hospital today.
I'm sitting on a bench in the school's playground, watching my roommate Sara do her job, which at the moment is opening smooshed Susie Q's and bags of fruit snacks for hungry, uniformed kindergarteners who still have breakfast smeared on their cheeks and blue polo shirts. One chubby boy, Jose, has managed to smother a cracker in imitation cheese and stick it to the side of the bench. As he unsticks his snack and brings it to his wide-open mouth, Sara orders him to throw it away, a command that results in her chasing him around the playground as he holds the cracker out in front of him (presumably out of Sara's reach) and his round belly bounces with each little step and ends in him pouting because she took his dirt-crusted-germ-infested cracker away from him.
While Sara is managing Jose's crisis, there are a few young girls in plaid jumpers practicing their hula hooping skills. This could be a normal scene, only their necks are the point of balance, not their hips, a concept all the girls but one have grasped - this other poor girl, who is adorable in her efforts, tries to make the hoop go around on her neck, but instead of moving her head back and forth wiggles her hips instead. I have no doubt she'll be a fantastic salsa dancer some day.
The girls aren't the only kids on the playground who are getting use out of these striped plastic circles: The boys have claimed domain over the kinked, bent and otherwise unspinnable hoops and are using them to "fight" each other as they wave them in the air like a ninja would his nunchucks, or like Jackie Chan would any random object that happened to be in the scene. Complete with "hee-ya" and "woosh woosh" sound effects, these boys have managed to escape their reality of poverty and socio-economic oppression into a fantasy world of heroism and victory over the conqueror's crushing grasp. With hula hoops.
Surprisingly no one gets hurt, until the end of recess that is, when the 8th graders come out for their play time and a boy comes sprinting from out of nowhere, steps on one of the hula hoops, slips and lands flat on his back on the black top. It's a comical incident, but one that is met with relief when the boy gets up laughing and Sara realizes she doesn't have to make a trip to the hospital today.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Encountering Normalcy
LA is good.
I'm really starting to feel at home at my work (I'm down to checking Facebook 2x per day vs. 15! ;) ) and things are going pretty well in my house, too. I joined the local Y (for a very affordable rate because my roomies sweet talked the man in charge there!), and it sounds like I'm going to start teaching one of their spin classes pretty soon. There's lots of free stuff to do around here too, although getting there can be a challenge - LA is really spread out, and we're way on the east side, so going any place takes anywhere from 15 minutes to 1 1/2 hours.
I'm slowly but surely meeting new people aside from my roommates, and I'm excited for the day when we all have our own lives and the obligation to invite the whole house to whatever I'm doing ends. I can see that it's starting to happen, and that's definitely a good thing.
The kids I'm working with a great, but challenging as well. They don't have much of a concept of "stick to your word" or consistency, but that's how they were raised. A lot of them struggle with employment for that very reason - they don't realize that people hire other people they can count on, and fire those they can't. I'm excited for the women's ministry I'm helping to start and can't wait to see that baby bird fly out of the nest.
The culture here is a little different than that in the midwest - I seem to get done in an hour what my boss expects will take me half a day to do, so I guess that idea of Midwestern work ethic is a reality. People are rarely on time for meetings, and pedestrians show no urgency in crossing the street, which sort of drives me nuts when I'm behind the wheel. But I've noticed that I now lollygag a bit when I'm in the crosswalk!
Today I had a staff meeting, and beforehand we said a quick prayer, and the pastor who said the prayer said something to the effect of "Lord, let us know and feel that you give us all that we need". Lately I've really been struggling with this gift of singlehood that I've been given , and when the pastor said that, it was like a light went on in my head: A relationship and all the stuff that comes with it isn't something I to survive, or even to be happy. I've got all I NEED - a family who loves me, a God who takes care of me, supportive roommates, a great boss, food in my belly, a roof over my head and clothes on my back. In fact, I have way MORE than I need, and I need to constantly remind myself that for that, I must be thankful.
I'm really enjoying living "simply", probably because it's not that much different from the way I was living before my time as a volunteer started. I'm reading a great book by Barbara Kingsolver called "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", and it is really inspiring me to eat locally and become as self-sufficient as possible (my new goal is to bake enough bread so that we don't have to buy it at the store anymore, and my next endeavor will be homemade cheese!). We bought all of our fresh produce at a local farmer's market this weekend, and it felt really good to know that we're supporting local, sustainable agriculture. The only down side of this motivation is that I really want to plant my own garden, but that's hard to do when you're surrounded by concrete!
I've also found a new appreciation for the local park, because it's a place within walking distance that allows me to get as close to nature as is possible here and provides some much-needed "alone" time, where I can just be in my own little world and read and write and reflect and not be interrupted by my roommates. I really should go there more often...
Well, time to put my nose to the grindstone, as they say. I've got to find a karate instructor who will donate his time to teach our kids some martial arts and discipline, set up meetings with local guidance counselors, stamp and mail letters to kids who've received scholarships, figure out the logistics of the recycling program I'm trying to start here, oh, and eat lunch!
I hope that you can find some time to take for you; to find some peace amidst the chaos; to be thankful that you've got all you need.
I'm really starting to feel at home at my work (I'm down to checking Facebook 2x per day vs. 15! ;) ) and things are going pretty well in my house, too. I joined the local Y (for a very affordable rate because my roomies sweet talked the man in charge there!), and it sounds like I'm going to start teaching one of their spin classes pretty soon. There's lots of free stuff to do around here too, although getting there can be a challenge - LA is really spread out, and we're way on the east side, so going any place takes anywhere from 15 minutes to 1 1/2 hours.
I'm slowly but surely meeting new people aside from my roommates, and I'm excited for the day when we all have our own lives and the obligation to invite the whole house to whatever I'm doing ends. I can see that it's starting to happen, and that's definitely a good thing.
The kids I'm working with a great, but challenging as well. They don't have much of a concept of "stick to your word" or consistency, but that's how they were raised. A lot of them struggle with employment for that very reason - they don't realize that people hire other people they can count on, and fire those they can't. I'm excited for the women's ministry I'm helping to start and can't wait to see that baby bird fly out of the nest.
The culture here is a little different than that in the midwest - I seem to get done in an hour what my boss expects will take me half a day to do, so I guess that idea of Midwestern work ethic is a reality. People are rarely on time for meetings, and pedestrians show no urgency in crossing the street, which sort of drives me nuts when I'm behind the wheel. But I've noticed that I now lollygag a bit when I'm in the crosswalk!
Today I had a staff meeting, and beforehand we said a quick prayer, and the pastor who said the prayer said something to the effect of "Lord, let us know and feel that you give us all that we need". Lately I've really been struggling with this gift of singlehood that I've been given , and when the pastor said that, it was like a light went on in my head: A relationship and all the stuff that comes with it isn't something I to survive, or even to be happy. I've got all I NEED - a family who loves me, a God who takes care of me, supportive roommates, a great boss, food in my belly, a roof over my head and clothes on my back. In fact, I have way MORE than I need, and I need to constantly remind myself that for that, I must be thankful.
I'm really enjoying living "simply", probably because it's not that much different from the way I was living before my time as a volunteer started. I'm reading a great book by Barbara Kingsolver called "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", and it is really inspiring me to eat locally and become as self-sufficient as possible (my new goal is to bake enough bread so that we don't have to buy it at the store anymore, and my next endeavor will be homemade cheese!). We bought all of our fresh produce at a local farmer's market this weekend, and it felt really good to know that we're supporting local, sustainable agriculture. The only down side of this motivation is that I really want to plant my own garden, but that's hard to do when you're surrounded by concrete!
I've also found a new appreciation for the local park, because it's a place within walking distance that allows me to get as close to nature as is possible here and provides some much-needed "alone" time, where I can just be in my own little world and read and write and reflect and not be interrupted by my roommates. I really should go there more often...
Well, time to put my nose to the grindstone, as they say. I've got to find a karate instructor who will donate his time to teach our kids some martial arts and discipline, set up meetings with local guidance counselors, stamp and mail letters to kids who've received scholarships, figure out the logistics of the recycling program I'm trying to start here, oh, and eat lunch!
I hope that you can find some time to take for you; to find some peace amidst the chaos; to be thankful that you've got all you need.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Working for the cause
It's hard to believe I've been here almost a month already - I can't believe how quickly flies. Pretty soon it'll be Christmas, the weather will get cold, the snow will start falling and...oh yea, I live in California. Nevermind about the snow and cold weather stuff ;)
I started to feel a little homesick this week, especially when I woke up yesterday morning to the smell of pancakes and scrambled "eggs" (okay, so it was really scrambled tofu, but same diff, right?) and thought I was at home (it's Sunday morning routine in my WI house). Imagine my shock when I woke up to 4 other young women in the dining room and not my dad and brother watching T.V. and my mom cleaning up the mess!
But things are going as well as can be expected and I'm starting to get a feel for my job, which is a welcomed sense of purpose after two weeks of Vince-now-what-do-I-do task management, which made me feel like someone begging for a job at some points...which I suppose makes it easier for me to empathize with the people with whom I'm working, on a much more trivial level, of course.
I am also learning that the "ask and you shall receive" maxim is indeed a wise one. Point in case: I was searching on Active.com for stuff to do in LA and found that People Magazine is hosting a "redcarpet 5k fun run" at Paramount Studios to benefit some health-related cause. The registration was $30, but I e mailed them and explained my financial situation and they granted me complementary admission to the event. So I'll be running a 5k and then be enjoying a Venessa Williams concert, gratis.
Example 2: $5 monthly Y-membership. Certainly can't complain about that, and I'm pumped to start pumping some iron (no pun intended... ;) )
Okay, time to get back to work.
I started to feel a little homesick this week, especially when I woke up yesterday morning to the smell of pancakes and scrambled "eggs" (okay, so it was really scrambled tofu, but same diff, right?) and thought I was at home (it's Sunday morning routine in my WI house). Imagine my shock when I woke up to 4 other young women in the dining room and not my dad and brother watching T.V. and my mom cleaning up the mess!
But things are going as well as can be expected and I'm starting to get a feel for my job, which is a welcomed sense of purpose after two weeks of Vince-now-what-do-I-do task management, which made me feel like someone begging for a job at some points...which I suppose makes it easier for me to empathize with the people with whom I'm working, on a much more trivial level, of course.
I am also learning that the "ask and you shall receive" maxim is indeed a wise one. Point in case: I was searching on Active.com for stuff to do in LA and found that People Magazine is hosting a "redcarpet 5k fun run" at Paramount Studios to benefit some health-related cause. The registration was $30, but I e mailed them and explained my financial situation and they granted me complementary admission to the event. So I'll be running a 5k and then be enjoying a Venessa Williams concert, gratis.
Example 2: $5 monthly Y-membership. Certainly can't complain about that, and I'm pumped to start pumping some iron (no pun intended... ;) )
Okay, time to get back to work.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Youngsters...
For the last two Fridays I have had the fortunate experience of working with a really great group of young people who call themselves "The Youngsters". What's cool about these "kids" is that they came together as a group - without the facilitation of an adult - and decided that they weren't going to get involved in gangs, but instead be committed to each other and to their community. In an area that has a terrible reputation for gang violence and where gang membership seems to be almost an expected “right of passage”, these teenagers are going against the norm and making a positive difference in their neighborhood.
Considering the loss and heartache they have experienced in their lives, The Youngsters bring an incredible amount of energy and spirit to their meetings. The challenge lies in harnessing that energy and finding ways to put it to productive use – I left the my first meeting with them feeling overwhelmed at what I perceived as a very disorganized, chaotic meeting where they spent much of the two hours they had together teasing each other and making side comments that led to defensive arguments. I really wondered what I’d gotten myself into.
But the more I get to know these kids, the more I’m encouraged by the potential they carry inside them. Right now they are working on a video about “Our Lady of Sorrows”, which will be shown at the mass for her in a few weeks. This may come as a shock, but the theme is sorrow, much of which is linked to gang violence in this neighborhood. As the group talked about what they wanted to include in their video, amid their “hard” exteriors I saw a sensitivity and softness that could only be present among a group of people that has experienced the loss of a loved one at the hands of gang violence. There was one boy whose brother was killed, and the group wanted to interview him for the video (I myself thought it would add a great amount of sentiment and realism to the project), but he clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about the issue. Instead of ragging on the kid and nagging him to do it until he gave in, the group was completely respectful of his resistance and quickly moved on to the next idea.
Working in this area, with a population that has been historically oppressed for centuries, is proving to be a challenge that I am barely beginning to understand. But I think of The Youngsters and what they are doing – by their own will – to improve their community, and I am hopeful for their generation, and thankful to have the privilege of working with such an extraordinary group of leaders.
Considering the loss and heartache they have experienced in their lives, The Youngsters bring an incredible amount of energy and spirit to their meetings. The challenge lies in harnessing that energy and finding ways to put it to productive use – I left the my first meeting with them feeling overwhelmed at what I perceived as a very disorganized, chaotic meeting where they spent much of the two hours they had together teasing each other and making side comments that led to defensive arguments. I really wondered what I’d gotten myself into.
But the more I get to know these kids, the more I’m encouraged by the potential they carry inside them. Right now they are working on a video about “Our Lady of Sorrows”, which will be shown at the mass for her in a few weeks. This may come as a shock, but the theme is sorrow, much of which is linked to gang violence in this neighborhood. As the group talked about what they wanted to include in their video, amid their “hard” exteriors I saw a sensitivity and softness that could only be present among a group of people that has experienced the loss of a loved one at the hands of gang violence. There was one boy whose brother was killed, and the group wanted to interview him for the video (I myself thought it would add a great amount of sentiment and realism to the project), but he clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about the issue. Instead of ragging on the kid and nagging him to do it until he gave in, the group was completely respectful of his resistance and quickly moved on to the next idea.
Working in this area, with a population that has been historically oppressed for centuries, is proving to be a challenge that I am barely beginning to understand. But I think of The Youngsters and what they are doing – by their own will – to improve their community, and I am hopeful for their generation, and thankful to have the privilege of working with such an extraordinary group of leaders.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Oh Monday
Week 2 of work at Dolores Mission has gotten off to kind of a rocky start. The starter on Dolores (the car that my community was given to use) broke over the weekend, and I spent ALL of Monday trying to get it fixed. The whole fiasco involved several incidences that would have driven a lesser person to insanity:
1. 8:45 a.m.: Getting the car started. A call to AAA with me pretending to be my roomie, not knowing her home address (which they requested) and waiting ½ an hour for the AAA guy to get there, just to have the stupid car start the first time he tried it.
2. 9:15 – 10:30 a.m.: The drive to the mechanic’s house. Bumper-to-bumper morning rush hour traffic, changing lanes, merging, big trucks, stopping under highway over passes and asking God to not let there be an earthquake until I was out from under them, no radio, less than ¼ tank of gas (and I couldn’t fill up because that would involve shutting off a car that had no guarantee of starting again), and completely missing the road I was supposed to turn on.
3. 10:45 a.m- 1 p.m..: The mechanic wasn’t home when I got there. Guess I should’ve called ahead. So I went for a nice 3 mile walk, found a cute cybercafé, had a delicious turkey wrap with lettuce, tomato and pesto, checked my e mail etc etc. Then my phone rang and it was the mechanic, speaking in rapid, heavily-accented English, saying something about my car being on the wrong side of the street and me getting a ticket because it was street cleaning day. I walked as fast as I could toward his house and was crossing the street when I heard “Teri!” and it was the mechanic, parked at a gas station, coming to get me. Fortunately, his wife was “guarding” the car, so I avoided yet ANOTHER traffic ticket.
4. Somewhere between 10 and 1: My tea spilled in my purse. And leaked all over everything in it, including an already ragged copy of “Angels & Demons” and my digital camera, which is now ruined. Oh yea, and it soaked through my purse and onto my skirt as I rode in the mechanic’s car to rescue Dolores from the perilous exploits of ticket-happy parking cops.
5. 1:30 p.m.: Pre-approval by the boss lady required for all car repairs. And the boss lady was impossible to get a hold of, which meant more waiting for me. Hooray.
6. 3:30 p.m.: The mechanic couldn’t fix the car until the next day = I had to take the bus home. In rush hour traffic. Which wouldn’t have been a big deal, except it was almost 2 hours of public transit time, and I went the wrong way when I got off the first bus, which meant that I had to endure double the “piropos” (cat calls) as I first walked by men waiting for their busses, and then walked by again from the other way. When I finally found the right bus stop, I was on the wrong side of the street and missed my bus and didn’t have cell service so couldn’t call the metro people to find out when the next bus would come. And I was hungry and tired and just wanted to go home.
7. 3:30-5 p.m.: Things take a turn for the better. A bus going to East LA (the 30, which wasn’t the 31 I needed…) showed up and the driver promised to take me to 1st and Gage, where I needed to be. So I hopped on, paid my $1.25 and made myself at home.
8. 5:30 p.m.: I get off on 1st and Gage, make my way to my house and go straight for the peanut butter in the cupboard to smack away the frustrations of the day. And then to the fridge for a brownie and some milk. And then back to the fridge for a spoonful of fudge frosting, straight out of the container.
And that’s when I knew it would all be okay.
1. 8:45 a.m.: Getting the car started. A call to AAA with me pretending to be my roomie, not knowing her home address (which they requested) and waiting ½ an hour for the AAA guy to get there, just to have the stupid car start the first time he tried it.
2. 9:15 – 10:30 a.m.: The drive to the mechanic’s house. Bumper-to-bumper morning rush hour traffic, changing lanes, merging, big trucks, stopping under highway over passes and asking God to not let there be an earthquake until I was out from under them, no radio, less than ¼ tank of gas (and I couldn’t fill up because that would involve shutting off a car that had no guarantee of starting again), and completely missing the road I was supposed to turn on.
3. 10:45 a.m- 1 p.m..: The mechanic wasn’t home when I got there. Guess I should’ve called ahead. So I went for a nice 3 mile walk, found a cute cybercafé, had a delicious turkey wrap with lettuce, tomato and pesto, checked my e mail etc etc. Then my phone rang and it was the mechanic, speaking in rapid, heavily-accented English, saying something about my car being on the wrong side of the street and me getting a ticket because it was street cleaning day. I walked as fast as I could toward his house and was crossing the street when I heard “Teri!” and it was the mechanic, parked at a gas station, coming to get me. Fortunately, his wife was “guarding” the car, so I avoided yet ANOTHER traffic ticket.
4. Somewhere between 10 and 1: My tea spilled in my purse. And leaked all over everything in it, including an already ragged copy of “Angels & Demons” and my digital camera, which is now ruined. Oh yea, and it soaked through my purse and onto my skirt as I rode in the mechanic’s car to rescue Dolores from the perilous exploits of ticket-happy parking cops.
5. 1:30 p.m.: Pre-approval by the boss lady required for all car repairs. And the boss lady was impossible to get a hold of, which meant more waiting for me. Hooray.
6. 3:30 p.m.: The mechanic couldn’t fix the car until the next day = I had to take the bus home. In rush hour traffic. Which wouldn’t have been a big deal, except it was almost 2 hours of public transit time, and I went the wrong way when I got off the first bus, which meant that I had to endure double the “piropos” (cat calls) as I first walked by men waiting for their busses, and then walked by again from the other way. When I finally found the right bus stop, I was on the wrong side of the street and missed my bus and didn’t have cell service so couldn’t call the metro people to find out when the next bus would come. And I was hungry and tired and just wanted to go home.
7. 3:30-5 p.m.: Things take a turn for the better. A bus going to East LA (the 30, which wasn’t the 31 I needed…) showed up and the driver promised to take me to 1st and Gage, where I needed to be. So I hopped on, paid my $1.25 and made myself at home.
8. 5:30 p.m.: I get off on 1st and Gage, make my way to my house and go straight for the peanut butter in the cupboard to smack away the frustrations of the day. And then to the fridge for a brownie and some milk. And then back to the fridge for a spoonful of fudge frosting, straight out of the container.
And that’s when I knew it would all be okay.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Homage to LA's traffic cops...
Imagine: You're driving down Caesar Chavez Avenue, the traffic is a little crazy, and your roommate is running late for work, all because of you. The light is green, the way is clear, and you make the most beautiful left hand turn you've made all day, smoothly shifting your gray, dented 1989 Nissan into second as you coast down Soto Ave. Then you hear the "woo woo" of the police motorcycle behind you, ask out loud "Is he after me?" and find that the answer is a definitive "Yes" as he pulls over behind you.
Thus the beginning of my day. Turns out there are signs "all over that intersection" (according to crabby cop guy) that say "No left turn before 9 am." So today I have been initiated into California's traffic offenders club. Not a membership I have willing accepted, but one I nonetheless possess. Too bad I couldn't have gotten the tears going on this one - it might have saved me a few points on my license and a mean look from The Terminator.
The funniest part of the whole incident was my roommates - three crammed in the back, one in front - documenting it via digital photography.
Here's to hoping the day can only get better. Have a great day and drive safe! :)
Thus the beginning of my day. Turns out there are signs "all over that intersection" (according to crabby cop guy) that say "No left turn before 9 am." So today I have been initiated into California's traffic offenders club. Not a membership I have willing accepted, but one I nonetheless possess. Too bad I couldn't have gotten the tears going on this one - it might have saved me a few points on my license and a mean look from The Terminator.
The funniest part of the whole incident was my roommates - three crammed in the back, one in front - documenting it via digital photography.
Here's to hoping the day can only get better. Have a great day and drive safe! :)
Friday, August 15, 2008
Here we are...
Well, here we are, the first week of being a JV, and so far, it's been fabulous. The orientation wrapped up on Thursday, and my 4 housemates and I made the 5 1/2 hour trip from Aptos (near San Jose) to Los Angeles, no prob (kudos to Erica, our fearless driver...).
We were all thrilled to find that our house is beautiful, spacious and has been well-taken-care-of by former JVs and by Celia, the landlord. We have a great living room/dining room, new carpet, a foosball table, avocado and orange trees, and most of us (including me) have our own bedrooms. The only down side to the place is that there are 5 girls and only 1 bathroom. But we'll make due.
Last night I had my first experience driving behind the wheel in LA traffic, when we drove from East LA to LAX airport to return the rental car. It was interesting and exciting and an adrenaline rush, for sure. And it wasn't even rush hour! The car that our community has to use is a manual 1989 Nissan with no power steering and a noisy muffler that is likely to fall off any day now. I told one of our bosses about it, and she said to let her know when it actually does fall off. She didn't seem too concerned....
Today we took a tour of a place called "Homeboy Industries", which was a program started up back in the 1980's/90's to help deter gang activity in the area. It's an AMAZING place and has had the success that I imagine many missionaries dream of. The building they're in now is HUGE and consists of a cafe, clothing shop, job services, tattoo removal, housing placement, legal counseling, narcotics/alcoholics anonymous support, educational services and anything else you can think of that would benefit anyone. It's really an impressive set up.
I also met my boss, Vince, today, and I'm pretty sure we're going to get along just fine. We've both got sarcastic senses of humor and like to kid each other a lot, so I'm expecting to have a lot of fun with him. I'm really excited to go to work on Monday - Vince and I are going to go shopping for office furniture...an event I never expected to be so excited for.
No pictures today, but I'll be sure to take a few of the house, of Dolores (the car), and of my new office (once I see it). Hope all is well! Ta-ta for now.
We were all thrilled to find that our house is beautiful, spacious and has been well-taken-care-of by former JVs and by Celia, the landlord. We have a great living room/dining room, new carpet, a foosball table, avocado and orange trees, and most of us (including me) have our own bedrooms. The only down side to the place is that there are 5 girls and only 1 bathroom. But we'll make due.
Last night I had my first experience driving behind the wheel in LA traffic, when we drove from East LA to LAX airport to return the rental car. It was interesting and exciting and an adrenaline rush, for sure. And it wasn't even rush hour! The car that our community has to use is a manual 1989 Nissan with no power steering and a noisy muffler that is likely to fall off any day now. I told one of our bosses about it, and she said to let her know when it actually does fall off. She didn't seem too concerned....
Today we took a tour of a place called "Homeboy Industries", which was a program started up back in the 1980's/90's to help deter gang activity in the area. It's an AMAZING place and has had the success that I imagine many missionaries dream of. The building they're in now is HUGE and consists of a cafe, clothing shop, job services, tattoo removal, housing placement, legal counseling, narcotics/alcoholics anonymous support, educational services and anything else you can think of that would benefit anyone. It's really an impressive set up.
I also met my boss, Vince, today, and I'm pretty sure we're going to get along just fine. We've both got sarcastic senses of humor and like to kid each other a lot, so I'm expecting to have a lot of fun with him. I'm really excited to go to work on Monday - Vince and I are going to go shopping for office furniture...an event I never expected to be so excited for.
No pictures today, but I'll be sure to take a few of the house, of Dolores (the car), and of my new office (once I see it). Hope all is well! Ta-ta for now.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Welcome!
Hi all. I hope you are doing well and enjoying what's left of summer. As for me, I'm making the most of the time I have left with my family before I embark upon my next adventure: Living in LA for 2 years.
You may be wondering why I've opted to leave the beautiful, familiar, rolling green hills of Wisconsin for a more urban life, which probably doesn't involve much green at all. Well, it's all because of an organization called the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (JVC). The JVC is an organization that serves the poor and socially marginalized by providing volunteers to various agencies who work with the disadvantaged population. I will be working at a place called Dolores Mission, which is a church located in the largest public housing project west of the Mississippi River. My position is as a youth minister, so I'll be hanging out with Hispanic youth, developing their faith and (hopefully) keeping them out of trouble.
I'm excited for the opportunity - this is my dream job - and to get to know the people who will be a huge part of my life for the next 2 years. I'm also a bit nervous and sad - It's hard to say goodbye to my family, who are my best friends and biggest supporters, and I've never lived in a city as big as LA before, so I'm not quite sure how I'm going to fit in. But I trust that the Lord will watch over me and keep me safe, that He'll provide the support that I need, and that He'll watch over my loved ones while I'm away.
If you're interested in learning more about the JVC, or about Dolores Mission, do check out their websites. They're both great organizations, doing great things for people in need.
Thanks for checking out the blog - come back soon!
You may be wondering why I've opted to leave the beautiful, familiar, rolling green hills of Wisconsin for a more urban life, which probably doesn't involve much green at all. Well, it's all because of an organization called the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (JVC). The JVC is an organization that serves the poor and socially marginalized by providing volunteers to various agencies who work with the disadvantaged population. I will be working at a place called Dolores Mission, which is a church located in the largest public housing project west of the Mississippi River. My position is as a youth minister, so I'll be hanging out with Hispanic youth, developing their faith and (hopefully) keeping them out of trouble.
I'm excited for the opportunity - this is my dream job - and to get to know the people who will be a huge part of my life for the next 2 years. I'm also a bit nervous and sad - It's hard to say goodbye to my family, who are my best friends and biggest supporters, and I've never lived in a city as big as LA before, so I'm not quite sure how I'm going to fit in. But I trust that the Lord will watch over me and keep me safe, that He'll provide the support that I need, and that He'll watch over my loved ones while I'm away.
If you're interested in learning more about the JVC, or about Dolores Mission, do check out their websites. They're both great organizations, doing great things for people in need.
Thanks for checking out the blog - come back soon!
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