For those of you who know me, you know that I am not a runner. I would much rather take a nice, long walk (although my brother says I always speed walk) than go for a run. Maybe that's reflective of my enjoyment in thinking deeply on things, my tendency to analyze before making decisions, and my overall natural bent to be cautious. Maybe it shows that I need to take my time to work through difficulties and decisions on my own. Maybe it's a demonstration that I am not very good at trusting.
And yet, lately, I've been hearing this little thought over and over again. It's a steady, quiet whisper: "Shall we run?"
An interesting question for me, isn't it? For the girl who hates to run and who likes to work on her own, I want to say no, right away. Yet, a part of me refuses to let me deny the request. A part of me wants to run, the rush headlong into a new adventure, to trust blindly without worrying through my insecurities and questionings. Deep within me, a soft, whisper responds, "yes!"
For the last couple of weeks, I've become more and more aware of myself and my tendencies. And I've realized that a lot of those tendencies are stopping me from moving ahead, from gaining speed. Instead of being disappointed in myself, as I would tend to be, I've been hearing this voice asking me, "shall we run? Will you run with me?" This is my opportunity to say, "yes," to forge ahead into personal areas of growth, to geographical areas unknown, into cultures unfamiliar, and to inevitable sacrifices of comfort and caution.
Although I've been in MATUL (Master of Arts in Transformational Urban Leadership) for a number of months, I've only just realized that I haven't truly trusted the Lord with the next two years. I've been holding onto making my own plans, thinking and working through everything on my own. And even more, I haven't trusted Him with what comes after the program ends. I want to decide where I will go, what I will do, who I will become, and what my own future holds. I'm not trusting that He will direct me as I go. When He asks me to run with Him, He doesn't tell me where we are running, or even where we begin. He simply asks if I will come with Him, implying that I must trust that He knows where to go.
So, will I choose to trust Him? Will I choose to set aside my analyzing and self-preserving caution? Will I choose to run?
I think, perhaps, I shall.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
I've Been Called "Friend"
It wasn't too long ago that I wrote of missing the Midwest and my home. To a certain extent, I know I will always miss that place, but I am finding that I have grown to love Los Angeles - which actually took me by surprise. The streets I walk are starting to feel familiar, the trees don't seem so strange, and hearing the calls of street vendors in the morning is not startling anymore. I never wanted to travel to California, let alone LA, yet, here I find myself not merely living, but participating in life.
And tonight, I was called, "friend."
This may not seem very significant to a lot of you, but in fact it is. I moved into a neighborhood that is 85% Latino, 64% born in Latin America. I am very much the outsider. Not only am I white, blonde, and blue-eyed, but I am from the north - and to people here, the north means northern California, not Minnesota. On top of that, I have the finances to go to not only undergraduate but also graduate school while the majority of residents here have not finished their high school degrees. To say that I am an outsider might even be a gentle way of putting it.
And tonight, just a few hours ago, I was called, "friend."
I've mentioned the ladies from the park numerous times, I know, but they are truly my window into the culture and happenings of the neighborhood. Each time I go to talk with them, they greet me warmly, make some room for me on the cement bench, and ask me how I've been since we last saw each other. It had been a while since I last joined them in the park, due to assignments and work schedules, but they quickly let that pass by and drew me into their conversation. They ladies were excited because they were planning a "convivio" or a small party in the park that would take place on Saturday, today. Before I left to finish my homework for the day, I was invited to join them at 3:30pm on Saturday.
Excited to go to their gathering, I baked some of the famous, secret family recipe chocolate chip cookies to bring with me. When I arrived, they were just stoking the charcoal grill to begin the cooking and a number of dishes had already arrived. Soon, the "costillas" or ribs, and the carne asada (literally, "roasted meat") were thrown on the grill and plates were made for everyone around the bench, including the children running around. The conversation focused on food, cooking, and the children as we ate. Just as the sky was beginning to darken, the men began to gather around the women, looking for food and beer. As their plates were prepared, one of the lady's husbands came up to me, asking his wife while he stared at me, "Es vecina, o amiga? Vive cerca?" - "Is she a neighbor or a friend? Does she live close?" His wife turned, looked at me, turned back to her husband and said clearly, without hesitation, "Amiga. Ella es amiga." - "Friend. She is a friend." As I confirmed to the man that I could speak Spanish, his wife explained how I came to the park to sit and talk with them, laughing at the silly stories we would all tell. And although the sun had gone and the wind had picked up, chilling all of us around the cement bench in the Alvarado Terrace Park, everything within me was warm and aglow.
I was called a friend.
They knew that I was new to this neighborhood. They knew that I didn't fully understand their culture. They knew that my Spanish wasn't perfect. They knew that I would be leaving at the end of the semester. And yet, through all of the differences and disconnect, they welcomed me in, explained neighborhood dynamics, shared their culture, and corrected my Spanish. Much of the time, they were content with merely allowing me to sit and listen to their stories and learn about their lives. And somehow, through those simple interactions, I have been considered a friend.
Los Angeles has worked its way into my heart, but more importantly, these ladies have opened up their lives and received mine in the process. It reminds me of the truth that God calls me His friend, in spite of all my failings. And, in response to His friendship, I must give Him my life. So also, as these ladies have taken me in, I must share my life with them, and consequently, my faith.
For I have been called, "friend."
And tonight, I was called, "friend."
This may not seem very significant to a lot of you, but in fact it is. I moved into a neighborhood that is 85% Latino, 64% born in Latin America. I am very much the outsider. Not only am I white, blonde, and blue-eyed, but I am from the north - and to people here, the north means northern California, not Minnesota. On top of that, I have the finances to go to not only undergraduate but also graduate school while the majority of residents here have not finished their high school degrees. To say that I am an outsider might even be a gentle way of putting it.
And tonight, just a few hours ago, I was called, "friend."
I've mentioned the ladies from the park numerous times, I know, but they are truly my window into the culture and happenings of the neighborhood. Each time I go to talk with them, they greet me warmly, make some room for me on the cement bench, and ask me how I've been since we last saw each other. It had been a while since I last joined them in the park, due to assignments and work schedules, but they quickly let that pass by and drew me into their conversation. They ladies were excited because they were planning a "convivio" or a small party in the park that would take place on Saturday, today. Before I left to finish my homework for the day, I was invited to join them at 3:30pm on Saturday.
Excited to go to their gathering, I baked some of the famous, secret family recipe chocolate chip cookies to bring with me. When I arrived, they were just stoking the charcoal grill to begin the cooking and a number of dishes had already arrived. Soon, the "costillas" or ribs, and the carne asada (literally, "roasted meat") were thrown on the grill and plates were made for everyone around the bench, including the children running around. The conversation focused on food, cooking, and the children as we ate. Just as the sky was beginning to darken, the men began to gather around the women, looking for food and beer. As their plates were prepared, one of the lady's husbands came up to me, asking his wife while he stared at me, "Es vecina, o amiga? Vive cerca?" - "Is she a neighbor or a friend? Does she live close?" His wife turned, looked at me, turned back to her husband and said clearly, without hesitation, "Amiga. Ella es amiga." - "Friend. She is a friend." As I confirmed to the man that I could speak Spanish, his wife explained how I came to the park to sit and talk with them, laughing at the silly stories we would all tell. And although the sun had gone and the wind had picked up, chilling all of us around the cement bench in the Alvarado Terrace Park, everything within me was warm and aglow.
I was called a friend.
They knew that I was new to this neighborhood. They knew that I didn't fully understand their culture. They knew that my Spanish wasn't perfect. They knew that I would be leaving at the end of the semester. And yet, through all of the differences and disconnect, they welcomed me in, explained neighborhood dynamics, shared their culture, and corrected my Spanish. Much of the time, they were content with merely allowing me to sit and listen to their stories and learn about their lives. And somehow, through those simple interactions, I have been considered a friend.
Los Angeles has worked its way into my heart, but more importantly, these ladies have opened up their lives and received mine in the process. It reminds me of the truth that God calls me His friend, in spite of all my failings. And, in response to His friendship, I must give Him my life. So also, as these ladies have taken me in, I must share my life with them, and consequently, my faith.
For I have been called, "friend."
Friday, November 1, 2013
Listen to Their Stories
This post is dedicated to the women that I have met in Pico-Union and their perseverance throughout life's struggles. Life is not easy, nor are their stories, but their resiliency, love, and joy is beautiful.
Meet Susana - As a part of living in downtown LA, I have been challenged to really connect with and spend time in my neighborhood. One of the ways that I decided to do this was to go to the park just a block from my apartment and start conversing with the ladies there. On the first night I decided to do this, I met Susana. Susana, and another lady that I met named Maria, were sitting on a cement bench. I was a bit nervous as I approached them, and I asked cautiously if I could sit and join them. Susana was the first the speak and warmly welcomed me to take a seat. From that night on, Susana became my connection to the ladies in the park. I soon found out that the ladies gather practically every night at the park from 5 to 8pm to talk, encourage, and support one another. In a sense, Susana is their leader - she is the one they go to for advice, and she stands up for the ladies in the face of opposition. After my second night of going, I was warmly invited to come and join them as often as I could, and Susana began calling me, "mi hija" which means, "my daughter". Even though I have a very busy schedule between work and school, I typically find 1 or 2 nights a week that I can go and talk with them and they are very understanding of my limitations and continue to welcome me with genuine warmth.
One night, it was especially dark. Fall had begun to take over LA, which simply means the sunset comes earlier, but additionally, it was spiritually dark. One of the ladies, another woman named Maria, began to say some disturbing things. She claimed that any of the street lights that went out in the park were put out by her. Any of the children that fell while they were playing, fell because of her. She then told Susana that she had seen a spirit rise from the ground at the steps of her apartment and stay there for a number of hours, only to sink back into the ground again. Many of the ladies were frightened, and one even said she might not come back. Susana was very distraught. She took me aside, and we walked and talked for a bit, her telling me about some of her fears, and hearing that Maria has been known to talk to a local witch. Susana tried to reaffirm me by saying she wasn't afraid of Maria or what she had said, but that it made her uncomfortable and the other ladies fearful. She kept saying, "I don't like that. It's not right, mi hija. It's not right for someone to get happy when they make other people afraid. It's not right!" And I had to agree with her. It was very late, and I needed to return to my apartment, but I promised to come to her apartment the following afternoon to pray with her.
The next day, I met Susana at her apartment. We talked for a while, and then I offered to pray, as I had brought my bilingual Bible with me. She was grateful, and said yes, but before I could pray, she began to talk and tell me about the things she was struggling with. She told me about her unfaithful husband who was supposed to be paying the rent, but wasn't, and who had physically abused her in the past. While she wanted to leave, she had no place or connection that had enough room for both her and her husband, so she could not. For a while now, she has been worried about her living situation, but has not told her children about it. Most of her children are older, or married, and her oldest son is very connected with a strong, local gang. Susana said that she was afraid that if her children found out, that they would do something to her husband and get into serious trouble because of it. For this reason, she feels very alone and without options. While my purpose was to go and pray with Susana, what she really needed was someone to simply listen to her and be a comfort.
Let me introduce you to Rosa - I met Rosa because of my connection to Jeff and Jacquelyn. Rosa owns a salon a few blocks away, and has been their hair cutter for the past few years and has just begun to attend the church that we attend in Pico-Union. She is a very strong woman who loves her children dearly, and earnestly seeks to understand them. When she heard that Jeff and Jacquelyn wanted to start a Bible study in Pico-Union, she immediately offered her salon as a place for the women to meet. Since then, we have been meeting and praying with Rosa, and she has shared a lot about her personal life. Rosa married her husband before she became a Christian, and since then has often struggled in her marriage. Her husband does not seem to have a steady job, often stays home, and refuses to come with her to church. Due to certain circumstances, Rosa is struggling to decide whether or not it is time for her to move on. This is especially painful for her, as she sees her children struggle with the separation between her and her husband, but she also needs to keep her well-being, and that of her children, in mind. Yet, in spite of this, she is incredibly hospitable and generous, inviting other women that visit her salon to the Bible study, and praying whole-heartedly for those around her.
Meet Susana - As a part of living in downtown LA, I have been challenged to really connect with and spend time in my neighborhood. One of the ways that I decided to do this was to go to the park just a block from my apartment and start conversing with the ladies there. On the first night I decided to do this, I met Susana. Susana, and another lady that I met named Maria, were sitting on a cement bench. I was a bit nervous as I approached them, and I asked cautiously if I could sit and join them. Susana was the first the speak and warmly welcomed me to take a seat. From that night on, Susana became my connection to the ladies in the park. I soon found out that the ladies gather practically every night at the park from 5 to 8pm to talk, encourage, and support one another. In a sense, Susana is their leader - she is the one they go to for advice, and she stands up for the ladies in the face of opposition. After my second night of going, I was warmly invited to come and join them as often as I could, and Susana began calling me, "mi hija" which means, "my daughter". Even though I have a very busy schedule between work and school, I typically find 1 or 2 nights a week that I can go and talk with them and they are very understanding of my limitations and continue to welcome me with genuine warmth.
One night, it was especially dark. Fall had begun to take over LA, which simply means the sunset comes earlier, but additionally, it was spiritually dark. One of the ladies, another woman named Maria, began to say some disturbing things. She claimed that any of the street lights that went out in the park were put out by her. Any of the children that fell while they were playing, fell because of her. She then told Susana that she had seen a spirit rise from the ground at the steps of her apartment and stay there for a number of hours, only to sink back into the ground again. Many of the ladies were frightened, and one even said she might not come back. Susana was very distraught. She took me aside, and we walked and talked for a bit, her telling me about some of her fears, and hearing that Maria has been known to talk to a local witch. Susana tried to reaffirm me by saying she wasn't afraid of Maria or what she had said, but that it made her uncomfortable and the other ladies fearful. She kept saying, "I don't like that. It's not right, mi hija. It's not right for someone to get happy when they make other people afraid. It's not right!" And I had to agree with her. It was very late, and I needed to return to my apartment, but I promised to come to her apartment the following afternoon to pray with her.
The next day, I met Susana at her apartment. We talked for a while, and then I offered to pray, as I had brought my bilingual Bible with me. She was grateful, and said yes, but before I could pray, she began to talk and tell me about the things she was struggling with. She told me about her unfaithful husband who was supposed to be paying the rent, but wasn't, and who had physically abused her in the past. While she wanted to leave, she had no place or connection that had enough room for both her and her husband, so she could not. For a while now, she has been worried about her living situation, but has not told her children about it. Most of her children are older, or married, and her oldest son is very connected with a strong, local gang. Susana said that she was afraid that if her children found out, that they would do something to her husband and get into serious trouble because of it. For this reason, she feels very alone and without options. While my purpose was to go and pray with Susana, what she really needed was someone to simply listen to her and be a comfort.
This is Nina - One night, Nina joined us for Bible study at Rosa's salon. Rosa had left for a moment and told us to lock up the shop behind her. A few minutes later, Nina appears at the door. Jacquelyn tells her that the salon is closed, and Nina says she is here to see Rosa. Unsure of what to do, Jacquelyn and I decide to leave the salon locked, since that was Rosa's request from us, and Nina waits outside. When Rosa returns, we find out that Rosa had invited her to the Bible study, but hadn't informed us that she was coming! Feeling a bit awkward, we apologize, and Nina laughs with us at the situation - our friendship has now been established. Nina shows herself to be a very warm, friendly individual with a lot of history of leadership within the church. That first week, she doesn't open up very much, but the second week she shares her story with Rosa and me. Nina came from Central America as a young, married woman, and her children soon followed her to the U.S. While her children were very young, ages 10 and 5 months, a man invaded her home. She relates the story, telling us of the fear she had when she heard him walking toward the bedroom where her 10 year old son was sleeping and where she was nursing her 5 month old daughter. He opens the door, and she asks him, "What can I do for you? Do you need something?" The man answers that he is hungry. Nina replies, "Go to the kitchen and open the fridge. Whatever is there, you can eat. But, I cannot help you since I am feeding my daughter." The man yells in anger, "No, you will come with me!" At this, Nina's son wakes up and asks his mom who the man is. The man says, "Go back to sleep, boy, or I will kill your mother," as he takes out his knife and approaches Nina. Nina complies, and goes into the living room with the man. He takes her daughter from her arms and throws her onto the coach, and proceeds to rape her. After this, Nina and her family struggled to feel secure in their home. For years, Nina would not tell her son what happened, and only when he reached his 20's did he receive the truth. His response was, "I always knew that's what happened." Now, her son is being detained to be deported for the second time, and Nina is desperately trying to keep him in the country. I have started to work with her to obtain a U-visa for her son, which is based on a person experiencing a crime and obtaining trauma from a crime that happened on U.S. soil. We may not have enough time, but we are trying what we can. Even with this happening, Nina is committed to attending our Bible study and prayer group.
These are the women that I have begun to develop relationships with here in Los Angeles. I have learned so much from them - Spanish, Latino culture, urban concepts of spirituality and prayer, hospitality, generosity, joy, and love. With little more than a month left, I hope to strengthen these relationships and encourage these women to continue to persevere and play a positive, supportive role within their community.
(All names have been changed in order to protect the privacy of these women)
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Missing Home
On Sunday, I finally understood what I
will be sacrificing in serving the Lord overseas or in a place far from home. I've always known that I generally push aside
my feelings and anxiety in regard to change or leaving home – it’s never until
I am actually on the plane during take-off, or a week after I've arrived to
some place new that I recognize what I have left behind and lost. This time, the process took over a month.
It’s October now in Los Angeles,
and the temperatures this past weekend rose to the 90's. Wearing a tank-top, shorts, and sandals now when
at home I would be wearing a sweater and scarf, jeans, and boots is a very
strange sensation. Since being in
California, I have attempted to compensate for my loss of home by talking often
of my Minnesotan heritage, referencing phrases like, “uff da!” sharing Sven and
Ole jokes, and talking about casseroles and baking. I've purchased teas flavored like cinnamon
apple and harvest pumpkin, and I longingly look at my scarves, hoping and
waiting for the temperature to drop.
When I study, I choose to listen to folky style music, reminiscent of
the Midwest, envisioning the changing color of the leaves and the cool, crisp
breeze that I love from the Midwestern fall.
I've finally come to realize
that in the direction that I am heading, I’m giving up more than just modern
conveniences, a materialistic lifestyle, and access to technology – I am giving
up everything that is reminiscent of home.
I’d always known that this path
would lead me to leave my family and friends behind, and I had accepted
that. Having grown up moving almost
every three years and going to college out-of-state, this had become a normal
and natural part of my life – although not particularly pleasant. Friends would phase in and out, family stayed
constant, and I would visit all as often as possible. Certain friends would remain close in spite
of the comings and goings, and I experienced only limited loneliness. I learned to make friends quickly and to
adapt to where I went.
But, all of this occurred in the
comfort and safety of the Midwest. Sure,
there were slight cultural differences between Minnesota, Wisconsin, and
Michigan, but nothing too drastic or difficult to adopt. Now, I have left the Midwest completely
behind me. And I miss it.
I miss the landscape of the
woods and lakes – the countless trees and the sound of the wind whispering past
the branches and through the leaves; the smell of a spring rain; fresh, cut
grass in the summer; the slight decaying of leaves in the fall; the
bone-chilling cold of a winter wind.
I miss the northern culture – potluck
meals at church, baking cookies and brownies for your neighbors and coworkers,
spending time with a friend by walking through the woods, going to apple
orchards in the fall, drinking countless cups of coffee or tea, playing cards
or board games to pass the time with friends, regularly wearing rain boots,
conversing with neighbors after the workday.
Currently, I am desperately
missing the season of autumn. It doesn't
exist here in Los Angeles. It’s much too
hot to bundle up in a sweatshirt and scarf or enjoy a mug of hot
chocolate. The crisp, fall breeze
doesn't come out until 7 pm. I miss
raking and jumping in large piles of leaves, going for evening walks without
worrying about the danger of it turning dark, going to apple orchards and
forest trails with college friends, and the thought of a big Thanksgiving
celebration with my family coming up (I won’t be able to attend this year).
What makes this sensation even
more striking is the recognition that I may not experience this wonderful,
cozy, nostalgic autumn with any given frequency for the rest of my life. My plans are strong, yet vague, as I am
pursuing holistic community development in areas of poverty – not knowing where
the Lord will physically direct me to go.
I may not be returning to the Midwest after this program, and soon, it
may lose its homey feel. This loss
slightly frightens and saddens me.
While I may have left the
Midwest with no guarantee of return, it has molded me into the individual I am
today. Over the years, it may begin to
feel less and less like home, but it will always hold the people that are
dearest to me (primarily my family in Minnesota), the landscape and places most
familiar to me, and the culture that raised me. For those reasons, it will never entirely lose
its tie to my heart or its context as home. I will always be a Midwestern, Minnesotan,
girl.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Welcome to LA
It is absolutely incredible to think that I've been in LA for a month already! It doesn't seem so long ago that I stepped off the plane and out onto the busy streets of Los Angeles. Let me try to unpack what has happened since I landed in the Golden State (warning: this may be long post...)
Los Angeles is a monstrously large city. This is not an exaggeration. The city itself spans over 45 by 90 miles, hemmed in by the mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other. On top of being so large, it is extremely dense. The neighborhood that I now live in, Pico-Union of Downtown LA, is one of the most condensed areas of the city in the already overflowing urban area. For this reason, backyards and lawns do not exist. Neighborhood parks are mostly cement. Churches meet in store fronts. Most locals walk, bike, or bus to their destinations due to the incredible amounts of traffic city-wide. This creates traffic not just on the streets, but also on the sidewalks. LA is bustling with businessmen hustling to their downtown jobs, celebrities arriving for a big event, middle class and students working for their steady pay, street vendors trying to make enough for the day, and the homeless searching for a place to rest. People from all sorts of ethnic, social, and economic backgrounds intermix and cross paths everyday. And this is the new world that I have stepped into.
While the city as a whole is daunting, I cannot say the same of my neighborhood in Pico-Union. If the name didn't give it away, Pico-Union is a largely Latino neighborhood. Most corner stores, street front shops, local restaurants, laundromats, mechanics, etc. have all of their signs in Spanish. I would say that over 50% of my neighbors do not know English and are rather surprised to find that this strange, new, blonde girl knows enough Spanish to talk with them and get to know them. Here in Pico-Union, the neighborhood park just a block away from my apartment is the central meeting place. In the evenings from 5 to 8 pm, you can find young mothers with their children, high school boys playing soccer, older men conversing, and ladies sharing the latest local gossip all in the same park. That description makes this park seem large and inviting, when in fact, it is the exact opposite. The park is almost a triangle in shape, with the largest end becoming the "soccer field" where the boys attempt to play a game around what appears to have at one point been a gazebo of sorts. Where the children play on statues of animals that were once painted but have been stripped of their color from the sand, the ground is now mostly cement. A few benches make up the seating area for the ladies to use while they talk and laugh about daily life. It is here that I have begun to enter the local community and forge new relationships with the wonderfully strong and resilient people of Pico-Union.
On the nights that I don't have class or work, I go to the park and join the ladies on the bench. It is an eclectic group of Latina ladies of all ages, from a young mom in her twenties to an older lady in her sixties, and from various countries such as Mexico, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. At first, they weren't quite sure what to do with this young, white girl that asked to sit down with them. But, after a trial period that lasted about a half hour, they were joking with me and inviting me into their conversations about the weather, cooking, school, men, and raising children. The next night I came to chat with them, they began to give me advice on catching a good man and how to cook traditional Latino meals. Through their stories and everyday struggles, I have been able to see a clearer picture of this neighborhood that I am now living in. Pico-Union was once a very violent area where gangs fought over tagging (graffiti art marking a certain tagger's ingenuity or a gang's territory) and turf and locals were caught in the crossfire. It was only about three years ago that the neighborhood began to take a turn for the better. Previously, the park was an area where the gangs would duke out their power struggles and mothers would never dare bring their children. To see it now as the central hub of social activity speaks of the transformation that has happened in recent years. Police, once viewed with distrust are now respected as they have helped to bring stability and safety to the community. While gang violence does still occur, and it is not uncommon to hear a shooting every couple of months or a police chase each week, the neighborhood is striving to regain its footing and move in a brighter direction.
Having come from a mostly suburban upbringing, this is a pretty marked change in environment. But, I have been extremely blessed by the family that I am renting with. Jeff and Jacquelyn along with their three children have been incredibly hospitable, generous, informative, and encouraging since I arrived. They continue to educate me about the neighborhood, showed me to the best corner store to buy fresh produce, introduced me to the small, local church three blocks away where I now attend, and ask me to share meals with them. It took me only a few days to feel at home in the apartment, the neighborhood and welcomed into their family. I've bonded with their children through racing Lego cars and tickle wars and with Jeff and Jacquelyn over late night conversations about inner city ministry, raising children, and living as counter cultural Christians. It is so wonderful to have such a supportive and encouraging family to live and commune with throughout my time here in LA.
Now that I have been here for a month, I have been blessed with a wonderful faith community. The local church that I have chosen to attend is rather small, but immeasurably hospitable. I first attended the English service, and was warmly greeted by the congregation of 30 or so individuals and asked to join their lunch after the service. Five hours later, I had met almost everyone, enjoyed my first tamale, helped with dishes,and joined in a home worship session. The following Sunday, I attended the Spanish service. If I thought the first service had welcomed me, the Spanish service did even more. Immediately following the service, a woman approached me introducing herself as the pastor's wife, and brought me to the church doors to meet everyone as they left the church building. Most of the congregation only spoke Spanish, but they were all excited to have me join their fellowship. Since those first two Sundays, every time I enter the church, I am warmly greeted with genuine smiles, warm hugs, and exclamations of gladness at seeing me again. The church body there authentically loves and supports each other, not just spiritually, but emotionally and physically. While the worship may not be incredible or flashy, or the sermons particularly deep and theological, their communion as a body of believers is stunningly beautiful and a challenge to me to dive deeper into love with the Lord and His Church.
Being a part of the MATUL (Master of Arts in Transformational Urban Leadership) Program has been a wonderful growing experience as well. Classes this semester are focusing on a theology of poverty and justice, understanding and developing communities of believers, and understanding the mindset, worldview, and spirituality of the poor. My professors are incredibly knowledgeable, having served as Christian community developers for numerous decades, and are deeply in love with the Lord and following Him. Class conversations are challenging, the readings are inspiring, and self-inspection has been eye-opening. My own perspective has already started to broaden and my own self-understanding is growing through that process. The other students in the program are equally inspiring and encouraging, as we all come from diverse backgrounds and have a strong desire to live as servants, bringing about the Kingdom of God. I am excited to continue to develop deep friendships with them as we approach this journey together.
On top of all of this blessing, the Lord has provided me with a job! I am working at a local pizza shop and have already been promoted to a shift lead position. My coworkers represent this diverse city, are all very friendly, and I genuinely enjoy working with all of them. Additionally, it is only a 30 minute walk or a 15 minute bike ride away, meaning I get a bit of exercise in along with a paycheck to provide for my monthly rent.
I could tell more specific stories of interactions with people around LA, but I fear I've already said too much! I'll share more details in upcoming posts as I dive deeper into the community here. If you would like join me in prayer, there are a few things weighing on my heart since arriving here:
First, that the Lord would continue to guide me and my classmates as we move closer and closer to heading overseas and becoming participants in His Kingdom work.
Second, that the Lord would be at work in my local community. Jeff, Jacquelyn, and I will be starting up a women's Bible study for the local Latina ladies (like the ones at the park) in this upcoming week and we will need energy, wisdom, and the movement of the Spirit to start this new discipleship ministry.
Third, that the Lord would continue to provide for tangible needs. Whether that is for the people I have met at the park, the local church, in my program, Jeff and Jacquelyn, or myself, there are a lot of people that have needs that are not being met. Pray that the Lord would work in miraculous ways to provide for these people and for this community that I am just starting to connect with.
Thanks for wanting to stay up-to-date with me and what the Lord is doing! I pray that you would be as blessed by His faithfulness and provision as I have been this past month!
P.S. Sorry that videos from the concert are still not up... technology is not my strong suit. Hopefully coming soon!
Los Angeles is a monstrously large city. This is not an exaggeration. The city itself spans over 45 by 90 miles, hemmed in by the mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other. On top of being so large, it is extremely dense. The neighborhood that I now live in, Pico-Union of Downtown LA, is one of the most condensed areas of the city in the already overflowing urban area. For this reason, backyards and lawns do not exist. Neighborhood parks are mostly cement. Churches meet in store fronts. Most locals walk, bike, or bus to their destinations due to the incredible amounts of traffic city-wide. This creates traffic not just on the streets, but also on the sidewalks. LA is bustling with businessmen hustling to their downtown jobs, celebrities arriving for a big event, middle class and students working for their steady pay, street vendors trying to make enough for the day, and the homeless searching for a place to rest. People from all sorts of ethnic, social, and economic backgrounds intermix and cross paths everyday. And this is the new world that I have stepped into.
While the city as a whole is daunting, I cannot say the same of my neighborhood in Pico-Union. If the name didn't give it away, Pico-Union is a largely Latino neighborhood. Most corner stores, street front shops, local restaurants, laundromats, mechanics, etc. have all of their signs in Spanish. I would say that over 50% of my neighbors do not know English and are rather surprised to find that this strange, new, blonde girl knows enough Spanish to talk with them and get to know them. Here in Pico-Union, the neighborhood park just a block away from my apartment is the central meeting place. In the evenings from 5 to 8 pm, you can find young mothers with their children, high school boys playing soccer, older men conversing, and ladies sharing the latest local gossip all in the same park. That description makes this park seem large and inviting, when in fact, it is the exact opposite. The park is almost a triangle in shape, with the largest end becoming the "soccer field" where the boys attempt to play a game around what appears to have at one point been a gazebo of sorts. Where the children play on statues of animals that were once painted but have been stripped of their color from the sand, the ground is now mostly cement. A few benches make up the seating area for the ladies to use while they talk and laugh about daily life. It is here that I have begun to enter the local community and forge new relationships with the wonderfully strong and resilient people of Pico-Union.
On the nights that I don't have class or work, I go to the park and join the ladies on the bench. It is an eclectic group of Latina ladies of all ages, from a young mom in her twenties to an older lady in her sixties, and from various countries such as Mexico, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. At first, they weren't quite sure what to do with this young, white girl that asked to sit down with them. But, after a trial period that lasted about a half hour, they were joking with me and inviting me into their conversations about the weather, cooking, school, men, and raising children. The next night I came to chat with them, they began to give me advice on catching a good man and how to cook traditional Latino meals. Through their stories and everyday struggles, I have been able to see a clearer picture of this neighborhood that I am now living in. Pico-Union was once a very violent area where gangs fought over tagging (graffiti art marking a certain tagger's ingenuity or a gang's territory) and turf and locals were caught in the crossfire. It was only about three years ago that the neighborhood began to take a turn for the better. Previously, the park was an area where the gangs would duke out their power struggles and mothers would never dare bring their children. To see it now as the central hub of social activity speaks of the transformation that has happened in recent years. Police, once viewed with distrust are now respected as they have helped to bring stability and safety to the community. While gang violence does still occur, and it is not uncommon to hear a shooting every couple of months or a police chase each week, the neighborhood is striving to regain its footing and move in a brighter direction.
Having come from a mostly suburban upbringing, this is a pretty marked change in environment. But, I have been extremely blessed by the family that I am renting with. Jeff and Jacquelyn along with their three children have been incredibly hospitable, generous, informative, and encouraging since I arrived. They continue to educate me about the neighborhood, showed me to the best corner store to buy fresh produce, introduced me to the small, local church three blocks away where I now attend, and ask me to share meals with them. It took me only a few days to feel at home in the apartment, the neighborhood and welcomed into their family. I've bonded with their children through racing Lego cars and tickle wars and with Jeff and Jacquelyn over late night conversations about inner city ministry, raising children, and living as counter cultural Christians. It is so wonderful to have such a supportive and encouraging family to live and commune with throughout my time here in LA.
Now that I have been here for a month, I have been blessed with a wonderful faith community. The local church that I have chosen to attend is rather small, but immeasurably hospitable. I first attended the English service, and was warmly greeted by the congregation of 30 or so individuals and asked to join their lunch after the service. Five hours later, I had met almost everyone, enjoyed my first tamale, helped with dishes,and joined in a home worship session. The following Sunday, I attended the Spanish service. If I thought the first service had welcomed me, the Spanish service did even more. Immediately following the service, a woman approached me introducing herself as the pastor's wife, and brought me to the church doors to meet everyone as they left the church building. Most of the congregation only spoke Spanish, but they were all excited to have me join their fellowship. Since those first two Sundays, every time I enter the church, I am warmly greeted with genuine smiles, warm hugs, and exclamations of gladness at seeing me again. The church body there authentically loves and supports each other, not just spiritually, but emotionally and physically. While the worship may not be incredible or flashy, or the sermons particularly deep and theological, their communion as a body of believers is stunningly beautiful and a challenge to me to dive deeper into love with the Lord and His Church.
Being a part of the MATUL (Master of Arts in Transformational Urban Leadership) Program has been a wonderful growing experience as well. Classes this semester are focusing on a theology of poverty and justice, understanding and developing communities of believers, and understanding the mindset, worldview, and spirituality of the poor. My professors are incredibly knowledgeable, having served as Christian community developers for numerous decades, and are deeply in love with the Lord and following Him. Class conversations are challenging, the readings are inspiring, and self-inspection has been eye-opening. My own perspective has already started to broaden and my own self-understanding is growing through that process. The other students in the program are equally inspiring and encouraging, as we all come from diverse backgrounds and have a strong desire to live as servants, bringing about the Kingdom of God. I am excited to continue to develop deep friendships with them as we approach this journey together.
On top of all of this blessing, the Lord has provided me with a job! I am working at a local pizza shop and have already been promoted to a shift lead position. My coworkers represent this diverse city, are all very friendly, and I genuinely enjoy working with all of them. Additionally, it is only a 30 minute walk or a 15 minute bike ride away, meaning I get a bit of exercise in along with a paycheck to provide for my monthly rent.
I could tell more specific stories of interactions with people around LA, but I fear I've already said too much! I'll share more details in upcoming posts as I dive deeper into the community here. If you would like join me in prayer, there are a few things weighing on my heart since arriving here:
First, that the Lord would continue to guide me and my classmates as we move closer and closer to heading overseas and becoming participants in His Kingdom work.
Second, that the Lord would be at work in my local community. Jeff, Jacquelyn, and I will be starting up a women's Bible study for the local Latina ladies (like the ones at the park) in this upcoming week and we will need energy, wisdom, and the movement of the Spirit to start this new discipleship ministry.
Third, that the Lord would continue to provide for tangible needs. Whether that is for the people I have met at the park, the local church, in my program, Jeff and Jacquelyn, or myself, there are a lot of people that have needs that are not being met. Pray that the Lord would work in miraculous ways to provide for these people and for this community that I am just starting to connect with.
Thanks for wanting to stay up-to-date with me and what the Lord is doing! I pray that you would be as blessed by His faithfulness and provision as I have been this past month!
P.S. Sorry that videos from the concert are still not up... technology is not my strong suit. Hopefully coming soon!
Sunday, August 18, 2013
A Change is Gonna Come
First off, I want to apologize for not updating this blog over the summer months. While most people generally have a good amount of summer free time, I'm only just now experiencing my summer freedom - tomorrow marks one of the first mornings that I can sleep in past 6 am! From here on out, I promise to you who decide to follow my blog, and to myself, that I will post at least once a month, if not more. Thank you for those who have been regularly checking my blog for updates throughout the summer - I hope that I can provide you all with enough details and if you have any questions for me, or would like to know more, please post a comment and I'll respond as soon as I can!
Just this past Friday I finished my office job as a biller. On Saturday I ended my job as a caterer. This morning I completed my job as a janitor. My little brother is leaving for his first year of college on Thursday. And my flight for Los Angeles is leaving the following Tuesday.
I might need to find a proper suitcase.
Even while all of these things are signaling that the "end is coming," oddly, I still don't feel as though this drastic change in my life is actually happening. People continually approach me, asking me if I'm excited or nervous about moving to LA, and I honestly tell them that I haven't gotten to that point yet. I know that the moment I reach the airport and I'm safely seated on the plane that it will all crash down on me - be praying for the unwitting person who is seated next to me when that happens.
Perhaps part of the reason that I am so calm and content at the moment is due to the way I have been provided for over the summer. My biggest concern with this program is figuring out how I will finance everything. Unlike your typical graduate program, this program is steep in volunteering and internships, which takes me overseas for two full years. With that comes added expenses, such as purchasing plane tickets, paying for room and board, and any additional travel expenses such as a visa or a bed net. The bulk of the program takes the form of working with humanitarian and faith-based organizations that are already supporting and ministering to their community. This leaves me with almost no opportunity to work for pay while I am interning abroad. Fortunately, I was able to come out of my undergraduate education with minimal loans and just a few weeks ago was able to see the financial statement for this coming semester at Azusa Pacific. While my loans are going to have to be put on hold, what I've made this summer from my three jobs is enough to pay for my first semester and hopefully my plane tickets overseas! The Lord is good indeed.
Another concern was finding housing for my semester in Los Angeles, CA. My program connected me with another student that would be my roommate for the semester. Housing on campus is not an option for us, so we needed to find a place to live. After countless hours of internet searching, and visiting on her part, the coordinator for our program mentioned a young family that had rented to previous students from the programs. We contacted them immediately, and they had a room available that they needed to rent out as soon as possible - big enough for two people! We skyped with them a couple days later, and lo and behold, I found out that they had grown up in none other than Grand Rapids, MI, where I just spent my past three years! They even graduated from the high school just across the street from my university's campus. I had been a bit nervous about the change in culture (and climate) that the move to LA signified, and the Lord has provided me with a family that understands, literally, where I am coming from. In addition to this, their apartment is a short 2.5 miles away from my classes and they offered to let me use a bike to get to and from my classes - I now have no worries about my transportation for the semester!
The last piece that I've been mulling over is finding employment. One other student in the program offered up a suggestion of working with high school students to form and lead a group or club on social justice issues or for volunteering as a paid position. With my background in student-led organizations, I quickly emailed the lady in charge of the program and I am awaiting her response. If the response is positive, I will have nothing left to do except to shout and sing for joy! If not, I will continue my job hunt for anything within a reasonable distance from my apartment. I'm hoping to find work as a social work case aide to use my latest education, but I would be more than happy to work in a restaurant, as a receptionist, or even as a janitor, if needed.
All that's left is to pack up and say good-bye. It's uncertain if I will be coming back to the Mid-West for Thanksgiving, but I found out that I will have the majority of December to be at home. However, this is still a significant change, and it will be a lot to take in. I'm praying that the Lord will help me in the transition and direct me as I begin making connections with my fellow students and the local community in LA.
For those that were wondering about the concert that I held about a week ago, I promise to post videos in my next post - we've been having a few technical difficulties with the videos, but they will be up soon! To give you a little taste, I'll post the lyrics for the song that I wrote specifically about this next phase in my life and my thoughts on feelings on it all. This song is called "Adventure".
~
Just this past Friday I finished my office job as a biller. On Saturday I ended my job as a caterer. This morning I completed my job as a janitor. My little brother is leaving for his first year of college on Thursday. And my flight for Los Angeles is leaving the following Tuesday.
I might need to find a proper suitcase.
Even while all of these things are signaling that the "end is coming," oddly, I still don't feel as though this drastic change in my life is actually happening. People continually approach me, asking me if I'm excited or nervous about moving to LA, and I honestly tell them that I haven't gotten to that point yet. I know that the moment I reach the airport and I'm safely seated on the plane that it will all crash down on me - be praying for the unwitting person who is seated next to me when that happens.
Perhaps part of the reason that I am so calm and content at the moment is due to the way I have been provided for over the summer. My biggest concern with this program is figuring out how I will finance everything. Unlike your typical graduate program, this program is steep in volunteering and internships, which takes me overseas for two full years. With that comes added expenses, such as purchasing plane tickets, paying for room and board, and any additional travel expenses such as a visa or a bed net. The bulk of the program takes the form of working with humanitarian and faith-based organizations that are already supporting and ministering to their community. This leaves me with almost no opportunity to work for pay while I am interning abroad. Fortunately, I was able to come out of my undergraduate education with minimal loans and just a few weeks ago was able to see the financial statement for this coming semester at Azusa Pacific. While my loans are going to have to be put on hold, what I've made this summer from my three jobs is enough to pay for my first semester and hopefully my plane tickets overseas! The Lord is good indeed.
Another concern was finding housing for my semester in Los Angeles, CA. My program connected me with another student that would be my roommate for the semester. Housing on campus is not an option for us, so we needed to find a place to live. After countless hours of internet searching, and visiting on her part, the coordinator for our program mentioned a young family that had rented to previous students from the programs. We contacted them immediately, and they had a room available that they needed to rent out as soon as possible - big enough for two people! We skyped with them a couple days later, and lo and behold, I found out that they had grown up in none other than Grand Rapids, MI, where I just spent my past three years! They even graduated from the high school just across the street from my university's campus. I had been a bit nervous about the change in culture (and climate) that the move to LA signified, and the Lord has provided me with a family that understands, literally, where I am coming from. In addition to this, their apartment is a short 2.5 miles away from my classes and they offered to let me use a bike to get to and from my classes - I now have no worries about my transportation for the semester!
The last piece that I've been mulling over is finding employment. One other student in the program offered up a suggestion of working with high school students to form and lead a group or club on social justice issues or for volunteering as a paid position. With my background in student-led organizations, I quickly emailed the lady in charge of the program and I am awaiting her response. If the response is positive, I will have nothing left to do except to shout and sing for joy! If not, I will continue my job hunt for anything within a reasonable distance from my apartment. I'm hoping to find work as a social work case aide to use my latest education, but I would be more than happy to work in a restaurant, as a receptionist, or even as a janitor, if needed.
All that's left is to pack up and say good-bye. It's uncertain if I will be coming back to the Mid-West for Thanksgiving, but I found out that I will have the majority of December to be at home. However, this is still a significant change, and it will be a lot to take in. I'm praying that the Lord will help me in the transition and direct me as I begin making connections with my fellow students and the local community in LA.
For those that were wondering about the concert that I held about a week ago, I promise to post videos in my next post - we've been having a few technical difficulties with the videos, but they will be up soon! To give you a little taste, I'll post the lyrics for the song that I wrote specifically about this next phase in my life and my thoughts on feelings on it all. This song is called "Adventure".
Sunlight breaks on a brand new day
I've got a map to guide my way
My eyes are wide and my heart is heavy
My breathing's quick, but I must be steady
On this adventure that I'll take.
My soul's at peace and my spirit sings
To my Savior's love I will always cling
The compass points a path out west
My Lord, He calls, puts me to the test
On this adventure that I'll take.
When the days are long and the nights are short
(When my ship can't find its way to port)
When I'm worn down to my bones
When the wind is high and I'm 'bout to fall
(When the waves crash in against the wall)
When I feel like I'm all alone
Although the storm rages on the sea
My heart will always be -
Home.
As my ship sets sail under starry sky
As I leave all familiar and loved behind
I've nothing of which to be afraid
For the winds and seas You have made
On this adventure that I'll take.
When the days are long and the nights are short
(When my ship can't find its way to port)
When I'm worn down to my bones
When the wind is high and I'm 'bout to fall
(When the waves crash in against the wall)
When I feel like I'm all alone
Although the storm rages on the sea
My heart will always be -
Home.
Oh, You call me
Oh, You call me
Oh, You call me
(Come to Me to find My rest)
Out on the sea
(Come to Me to reach your quest)
Oh, You call me
(Come and find the what you desire)
To be set free
(Come and find the source of fire)
Oh, You call me
(Come to see what is the Truth)
Out on the sea
(Come to see your spirit new)
Oh, You call me
(Come and seek for My heart)
To be set free
(Come and seek for your part)
When the days are long and the nights are short
(When my ship can't find its way to port)
When I'm worn down to my bones
When the wind is high and I'm 'bout to fall
(When the waves crash in against the wall)
When I feel like I'm all alone
Although the storm rages on the sea
My heart will always be -
Home.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Fresh
Driving on a warm, spring afternoon, the wind whipping my hair about my face, the sun warming my skin, and an upbeat song on the radio - today feels fresh.
There's a new hope and excitement that feels as though it's bubbling up inside of me, almost causing me to dance and sing aloud. It's as though I've been washed clean of all of the slush and mud from the winter and now I'm sprouting a new stem, new leaves, new buds, and the flower is beginning to bloom. I feel as though I have a fresh new start, and in fact, I do!
It was only last night that I was accepted into the grad program that I have been hoping and dreaming of for the past four months. My adventure truly is beginning, and I only have four more months to wait! In four short months, I will be moving from my home of St. Paul, MN for the unknown sights and sounds of Los Angeles, CA. Fifteen weeks after the program starts, I will be packing up my bags and wishing my friends and family farewell as I board a plane for an unknown land, remaining there for two years. Exploring theological concepts and development theories, learning a new language, and working alongside community developers internationally, this new adventure will be challenging, faith-growing, and life-changing. Oh, what I have to look forward to!
While moving to California and then across the world is a definite reason for my feelings of excitement and being refreshed, it has reminded me of another source of renewal - my Lord and Savior. He has given me a fresh start, even greater than this - His fresh start makes me whole, makes me clean, makes me new. His death on the cross has given me freedom and provided me redemption to approach the Great I Am. His resurrection has given me hope and peace, beyond which any earthly conception of joy could ever hope to approach. His robes of righteousness fall over my shoulders, making me presentable before His Father. While various circumstances and opportunities may give me a hope for my future and a feeling of adventure, His perfect life and sacrifice renews my life for all of eternity. May I never forget this, may we never forget this, no matter how the twists and turns of life may cause us joy or pain. He is ever renewing us, ever refreshing our souls, and ever loving His children.
There's a new hope and excitement that feels as though it's bubbling up inside of me, almost causing me to dance and sing aloud. It's as though I've been washed clean of all of the slush and mud from the winter and now I'm sprouting a new stem, new leaves, new buds, and the flower is beginning to bloom. I feel as though I have a fresh new start, and in fact, I do!
It was only last night that I was accepted into the grad program that I have been hoping and dreaming of for the past four months. My adventure truly is beginning, and I only have four more months to wait! In four short months, I will be moving from my home of St. Paul, MN for the unknown sights and sounds of Los Angeles, CA. Fifteen weeks after the program starts, I will be packing up my bags and wishing my friends and family farewell as I board a plane for an unknown land, remaining there for two years. Exploring theological concepts and development theories, learning a new language, and working alongside community developers internationally, this new adventure will be challenging, faith-growing, and life-changing. Oh, what I have to look forward to!
While moving to California and then across the world is a definite reason for my feelings of excitement and being refreshed, it has reminded me of another source of renewal - my Lord and Savior. He has given me a fresh start, even greater than this - His fresh start makes me whole, makes me clean, makes me new. His death on the cross has given me freedom and provided me redemption to approach the Great I Am. His resurrection has given me hope and peace, beyond which any earthly conception of joy could ever hope to approach. His robes of righteousness fall over my shoulders, making me presentable before His Father. While various circumstances and opportunities may give me a hope for my future and a feeling of adventure, His perfect life and sacrifice renews my life for all of eternity. May I never forget this, may we never forget this, no matter how the twists and turns of life may cause us joy or pain. He is ever renewing us, ever refreshing our souls, and ever loving His children.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Standing Still
This morning at church, the pastor spoke about the minor prophets, opening up his new sermon series for the summer. There were many insightful things that he had to share, but the one that caught my attention the most was about what the prophets had to say and how they felt about it. Most, if not all, of these prophets spoke words that the people of their time did not want to hear - in fact, their words incited anger and occasionally violence. The prophets spoke about the evils of the world and their society in comparison with what the Lord says that the world should be. We have not properly learned to mourn evil, but the prophets had. They mourned and were horrified by things that we take as "normal" or "real life". What the prophets were trying to do was call our faith into account and to take us to the slums of the world and our own communities. Many times, the prophets would point out the social inequalities, the oppression, the exploitation, and the injustice of their society, the rejection of the poor, and their inability to rest on the Sabbath. The pastor's message reminded me of what I am passionate about. To a certain extent, I can empathize with these prophets. I understand their rage at the injustices of their world. I understand their desire for truth and justice, their abhorrence of a "middle road" and "grey areas". It's for those very reasons that I feel called to begin working in community justice and to live among those suffering under corrupt leaders, living in poverty, striving to survive. I hope to someday be able to advocate for them and to bear their burdens alongside them - I hope to stop standing still in the midst of this injustice. The sermon reminded me of my ambitions and dreams. Last summer, I wrote a short poem about this very topic. While I don't normally share my poetry, I figured that since this is one of my first blog posts, and practically no one knows about my blog at this point, that it couldn't hurt too much to share it:
Standing Still
The rocks of this stream are scorched, sun-bleached
The crops are crying for rain
For months these roots no water has reached
Their fruit unseen again
Innocent ones are lying in bed
Eyes still open wide
Stomachs distended, aching heads
Brothers at their side
A long procession, marching ahead
A symphony of wails
Souls are heavy, spirits filled with dread
A good-bye is hailed
There are so many unseeing eyes
There are so many unheard cries
Even if unknown, a babe still dies
Yet we still seem to rationalize
Standing still
Saturday, April 20, 2013
The Beginning of Adventure - the end of the known
At this point in my life, I am quickly approaching the end of what is known to me - I will soon be leaving the campus that has been my home for the past three years in southwest Michigan as graduation is just around the corner. I will most likely be leaving my part-time summer jobs which I have held for the past two years in favor of a full-time office job. Once accepted to my grad program, I will be leaving the comfort of the Mid-West for the sunny shores of California (although I've never desired to venture that far west). When I finally make it out to California, I will be leaving the safety of my nation as I travel oversees for two years, living in a community and a culture vastly different from my own. I will be leaving my friends, my family, my home, my country, and everything that holds any form of comfort in my life. The next six months hold a lot of change, transition, and challenge - they hold a lot of unknowns.
While this may be the end of the known, and sometimes a bit frightening, it's the beginning of adventure. By leaving everything that is comforting and familiar, I am challenging myself to explore, to try something new, and become uncomfortable. I've found over and over again, that it's only when I am truly experiencing the uncomfortable that I am stretched, matured, and learn more. It's also the only time that I ever truly rely on the Lord.
Over the past year, I think that I've become too comfortable. I've been too successful. Life has become too familiar. I've become lax in my motivation, my work, and my relationship with the Lord. It's time for a change, it's time to become uncomfortable - it's time to begin an adventure.
While this may be the end of the known, and sometimes a bit frightening, it's the beginning of adventure. By leaving everything that is comforting and familiar, I am challenging myself to explore, to try something new, and become uncomfortable. I've found over and over again, that it's only when I am truly experiencing the uncomfortable that I am stretched, matured, and learn more. It's also the only time that I ever truly rely on the Lord.
Over the past year, I think that I've become too comfortable. I've been too successful. Life has become too familiar. I've become lax in my motivation, my work, and my relationship with the Lord. It's time for a change, it's time to become uncomfortable - it's time to begin an adventure.
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