srce moje...tracing the journey.

my beloved is in the process of leaving the Balkans, where he has made his home for the past three years. where I made my home for one glorious, complicated year.  and so my heart is in the process of reminiscing, looking back and letting go of the comfort of having that intimate link to a place i came to love so much, even though it broke my heart sometimes.

thinking of when i first arrived in Sarajevo in the middle of August and was instantly in love with the [wordiness alert, this is from my journal:] "clear sweet sunny days backdropping the gorgeous colorful mountainous landscape and the beautiful multicultural milieu of people in the cafes and goods in the markets and church bells ringing and minarets lighting up at night and imams intoning calls to prayer and the river flowing on and on under many bridges through the middle of it all..."

and the day i made to the journey from Sarajevo to Belgrade, reassuring myself that "as i leave this beautiful scarred city, i know i will survive and maybe even learn to thrive in the one i will soon arrive in... i think i am already growing in my ability to recognize the cyrillic letters and sound things out correctly when i see it.  bouncing inside the bus, through tunnels, alongside rock faces, past pine forests and fern patches, we have now come down from the high hills to a more rolling landscape of fields and small towns. hello hay bales and humble houses and huts. the little trickle that started hugging the road's curves in a shallow ditch a while back has since gradually widened into a lively stream and then a broad channel in a gorge below us - and oh - now we have crossed over it on a bridge and i can no longer see it from my side of the bus, but i know it is still there, feeding this land, quenching the thirst of people and creatures, carving its cool, calm power ever deeper and wider, branching off into new waterways, to spread the gift, the youth, the life."

i didn't always feel very youthful or lively for my first few months there. despite some wonderful moments, overall i felt more like this:

i struggled under some shadows of uncertain expectations and rocky living situations and frequent colds and sickness and feeling like a failure a lot of the time.

sure, i smiled in the sunshiny joy of my language lessons, my daily work of caring for little children with special needs, my mini-adventures of walking and navigating public transportation around the city, and texts like this from my coworkers when i was too sick to go to work: "ok dont vory bi god love you"

but it wasn't until, oh, about November that i finally started feeling comfortable in my skin and surroundings again.  i realize this is fairly typical cross-cultural transition timing, but there were also a few real changes that made a big difference.  i moved to a new apartment and "woke up under the skylight, blue sky with wisps of clouds floating by, the sound of the streets being washed and the pigeons flapping about. i tiptoed to look out to the adjacent rooftops where they perch and greeted them this morning...i went to the pijaca/market and had friendly exchanges with the people from whom i bought: a chunk of pumpkin, a bunch of paradajz i luk (tomatoes and onions), some mandarin oranges, pola kila pečurka (half a kilo of mushrooms), i 250g brusnica (dried cranberries)...and trudged delightedly back up the hill...passing Everest Kafe, and the Crna Kornjača, and a Zdrava Hrana (health food) shop, and some creative graffiti...i LOVE MY NEIGHBORHOOD!"

i started having more opportunities to travel around the region...to hike to a waterfall and play in the fall leaves or the snow or the spring flowers in Kosovo/Kosova...to go to concerts in Novi Sad...to spend time with MCC partners and regional directors in Sarajevo, and go hiking in the hills there...

life really blossomed.  blooming and growing, like edelweiss, the hills are alive, with the sound of music... :)

and i had awesome Canadian neighbors who moved in to the apartment below mine, and who invited me to share in their weekly crepes and their city-exploring adventures and their Christmas and Easter celebrations just like another daughter/sister...(and who dressed up as this endearing totem pole for the kindergarten's multicultural dress-up day!)

and i had a gig with a choir, a gospel choir! the only gospel choir in Serbia! who were the warmest, loudest, lovingest :) spiritual community i could possibly have been welcomed into. we sang all over Beograd, and in a few other cities, too.  music. friendship. joy.

and i had, unexpectedly, a boy, who tenderly cared for me when i was sick...who encouraged me to be gentle with myself and see the beauty in my role with the children...who traveled with me all throughout that "land of raspberries and honey-bees, hills and haystacks, abandoned houses and bullet holes, churches and mosques" ...who held me and helped me poetry-slam a bob dylan ballad when my grandpa and another dear friend in the U.S. died on the same day in May...who asked me if he could ask me to marry him yet, and then saw me off on the plane back to the States in July without a definite answer...who said YES YES YES YES YES when I asked him over Skype a couple months later!  who put the perfect eco-friendly vine-shaped ring on my finger this past December...who returned to the Balkans in January and has persevered through these final months of his term there... and who is coming home to me SOON.  srce moje...now we'll journey together for the rest of our lives.  God.es.good.

year.glass.half.full.

it is almost exactly the halfway point of my year of service in Camden, and my cup has already been filled to overflowing, more times than i can count. all i can do is name a few grains from the hourglass of this year's passing, a few drops from the River Grateful:

- St. Clare House, where i live with three other Franciscan Volunteer Ministers (FVMs), now has a prayer room! with sage green walls we painted ourselves, cheap gray carpet we installed ourselves, a comfy couch from craigslist, a bunch of pillows from Goodwill for sitting on the floor, a small table populated with candles we've been given, a space heater we were given by someone at church who had an extra, a zen garden populated with rocks from the recent demolition of the most hazardous house in our neighborhood, a little lamp, a framed picture of Jesus laughing, and a frame containing four watercolor pictures created by each one of us FVMs. it is already a life-giving space for us and it is exciting to think of how it will be a blessing to future volunteers, too.

- Francis House continues to be a haven. a family. a breath of fresh air. a healing prayer. a place where we remember, in the (slightly modified) words of India Arie, that the worst disease in the world is not cancer, it's not AIDS; the worst disease in the world is fear and hate, and the cure is love. and love certainly lives here. it is a place where those whose lives have been unalterably affected by HIV and AIDS come and are invited to experience that healing love and spread it to others. and they definitely spread it to me, every day i walk in the door to spend time there.

- i already know the names of all my new students in both the morning and evening ESL classes, which just started a new term this month. so far, they seem to understand when i communicate in Spanish, and they seem to be growing in understanding and confidence of how to communicate in English, and they even seem to enjoy the comic relief of when i get mixed up and things come out in Spanglish :)

- the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders still ask me if they can sing the songs i taught them for the Advent Pageant and for Martin Luther King Day. some of them swarm me when i enter their classrooms on Friday mornings, and some of them are constantly complaining that someone else is talking, and some of them ask to go to the bathroom every five minutes, and some of them burst into renditions of "we will, we will, rock you" whenever i have them start tapping or clapping a beat, and yet all of them have memorized how to sing "hello" in eight different languages and seem to proudly raise their voices as we start each class with this greeting to "all the children of the world!"

- i now have a chance to call upon my choral/vocal experience in order to lead breathing exercises, high sighs and sirens, and other warmups with the new choir for middle schoolers, as i assist a fellow FVM in directing them on Wednesday afternoons. we have started off our repertoire with a favorite of mine, "Siyahamba/we are marching in the light of God", and they seem to be rolling with the syncopation pretty well and even shaping their phrases a little bit. watch out, Chanticleer.

- the Camden Peace Art Project has been re-visioned by another fellow FVM and myself to integrate music and peacebuilding activities along with the primary focus on art skills and projects. AND, we have received several generous gifts and an important grant that is enabling us with not only the resources but the essential element of hope that we need in order to continue offering this biweekly after-school program for the children of this city.

- last week was Christian Unity Week in Camden, organized by CCOP. the kick-off was on Martin Luther King Day, with a workshop series throughout the day at St. Anthony's, all about community organizing, because that's what Dr. King did so phenomenally and got in trouble for, not just community service, not painting walls or picking up trash or serving in a soup kitchen, as helpful and necessary as those things may be. each evening there was a worship gathering at a different church around the city, and a different pastor/priest/preacher delivered the 'word', and different community members read the scriptures and prayed the prayers and made the announcements. BUT, the same choir, the Camden Christian Unity Choir, led the music every night. and i was in it. :) we sang mostly some contemporary gospel standards, but they also invited me to teach them a couple of songs in Spanish. claro que si, cantamos "alabare, alabare, alabare, alabare, alabare a mi Senor!"

Monday night at Camden Bible Tabernacle

Wednesday night at St. Bartholomew's Roman Catholic church

St. Bart's

Thursday night at Faith Tabernacle Church

Friday night at Antioch Baptist Church

sing.hello.to.miss.anna.

thirty little voices chime each friday morning as i enter the classroom, "good morning, miss anna!" and we gather in a circle and sing hello to each child in 2nd and 3rd grade as we start music class. next door, in 1st grade, art class is just getting under way, under the guidance of my roommate and fellow Franciscan volunteer. in an hour we will switch classrooms, in an effort to provide every child at St. Anthony's School with weekly opportunities to exercise and develop their skills of creativity and appreciation for art and music.

this is a new, surprising, and surprisingly enjoyable part of my volunteer work now. the other volunteers and i have been meeting regularly with the school principal since the year began, to see when we might start coming into the classrooms, but because of the chaos of new leadership at the school, and a new federally-funded lunch program with mounds of paperwork and logistics to handle, these fine arts classes were simply not a priority. so finally, about five weeks ago, we were able to set up a schedule and start teaching. my roommate teaches all of the art classes, K-8; another Franciscan volunteer, who actually majored in music education, teaches kindergarten and grades 4-8, because those classes take place on Wednesdays, when i am teaching ESL, so i just take over on Fridays.

i'm still trying to learn every child's name; trying to help them remember that one finger means we're using our singing voices, two fingers means we're using our speaking voices, three fingersmeans we're using our whispering voices, and no fingers means we're using our listening (i.e. silent!) voices; and now trying to help them learn their parts for the Advent pageant which is taking place in less than two weeks!

"I, said the donkey, shaggy and brown..." - 1st grade is singing The Friendly Beasts. and the 2nd-3rd grade is performing a rhythmic chant about the journey of Mary and Joseph and their search for a place to stay in Bethlehem.

speaking of a place to stay - this weekend i've been staying with some family friends in Pennsylvania, the first time i've been able to get away and spend quality time with people i know outside of FVM since August. i'm so thankful for their hospitality, which included seeing the movies Gran Torino and Precious [both highly recommended...for open minds and compassionate hearts] and also the opportunity to attend their church this morning, on this first Sunday of Advent. it was refreshing and spirit-encouraging to be able to join my voice in full-bodied harmony with a close-knit, cross-cultural and cross-generational sanctuary-full of people. singing O Come O Come Emmanuel; singing hello and love to God, and peace to each other and the world.

in the coming weeks, may we all find our ways to sing hello, love, and peace to each other, whether with our mouths, our thoughts, or our actions. may we recognize and celebrate the ways we do see light bursting into darkness; love overcoming fear; our eyes opening to see Christ in every face we encounter. may we pray for homeless or hurting hearts finding safe places to stay and be cared for, and may we be willing to be part of that caring however we can. most of all, may we invite the God who Is Peace to sing God's own hello, love, and peace deep inside of us, so that we cannot help but be a loudspeaker for that music of abundant life.

francis.house.fridays.

the time has come to tell about a typical day at Francis House. although there are really no 'typical' days. i go on Tuesdays, too, and they're also open on Thursdays, but Friday is generally more of a full house, always bringing an unpredictable mix of people and predicaments, but often becoming the highlight of my week.

so here's what happens - or shall we say, here's what could potentially happen if you, my friend, happened to come by this little corner of Camden on one of these days:

10 or 11 am - so you show up at the front gate and spend a few minutes admiring the colorful, meaningful tile mosaics that adorn the front face of the otherwise-plain brick building. So this is Francis House. you go inside, and find a few people sitting in the dining room reading the paper and chatting, some in the living room listening to the parakeets chatter, some hanging around the kitchen checking on the hot lunch cooking, some sitting outside on a picnic bench smoking their cigarettes and chatting – and everyone wants to greet you, say hi, hug you, say “God bless you! How’ve you been? Where you from? Welcome to Francis House!” so, you go back in to the dining room and pour yourself a cup of coffee or grab a can of soda that’s sitting on one of the long tables, and take your pick of the spots and crowds to join in the conversation. and you hear talk about life and weekend plans and weather and public transportation and the Phillies going to the World Series and friends or family who are sick or caught in the drug scene, and about their own stories, the good and the bad, the mistakes and rejections and temptations and the victories and blessings too. you listen, you learn, you are reminded that life is a gift and nothing is more important at this moment than simply being. here. wholly.

12 noon – you hear a bell ringing and a general rumble of people making their way into the dining room, so you join the flow and let your hands be clasped by a new friend on one side and a complete stranger on the other. It’s circle time, goes the group consensus, whispered and shouted and evident in every expectant eye. once everybody is holding hands, you focus in on a solid, fiery-headed woman with her arm in a sling, standing in the middle of the circle, inviting you all to take “deep cleansing breaths”, then introducing all the visitors, volunteers, and people who’ve been away for a while. you hear some calling her “mama”, some “ma’am”, and some “Sue”. So here’s the one who birthed this place and keeps it going and growing under her wings. each introduction is celebrated with handclaps and shout-outs, making sure you feel the love, and you surely do. now it’s time for the real business of circle time: what/who do we need to pray for today? names and news-flashes of concern and thanksgiving burst forth from people’s lips like kernels in a popcorn popper… and when the pace dies down, maybe somebody volunteers to pray spontaneously, or maybe Sue leads out with "Who woke us up this morning?" and everyone joins in praying "God, give us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference. God's will, not ours, be done. Amen Amen!" and the hands on either side of you drop their grip to clap their affirmation. and so do you. thus, the circle breaks off and snakes into the kitchen to line up for the food. only, you realize, you’ve already been fed, somewhere inside where food can’t begin to satisfy.

Once-in-a-lifetime - if you had come last Friday to circle time, you would have witnessed an incredible moment. we were privileged enough to listen to a poem written and read by a lady who has only been coming to Francis House for three weeks, only on Fridays, and yet as she read her poem, i was brought to tears and spirit-shivers by the way she expressed the heart of the mission of Francis House and all we hope for it to be for the people who come here. i looked at Sue in the middle of the circle and saw her eyes welling up, and she saw that i was about to let it leak too, and later as she was hugging me goodbye for the day, she said, "so, you're a wimp, too!" but truly, it was incredible to hear what the Spirit of Love has done in one much-abused, usually-quiet-and-reserved woman as a result of spending just a few hours in this place i am privileged to be a part of. she was showered with a massive outpouring of applause and amen's from the whole circle group, too; everyone knew that she had seen clearly and struck the core of our common experience with her words and her attitude of gratitude for God guiding her to this place. you would have loved it. and maybe you would have given her a hug and thanked her for her poem, and she would have said, “I love you, baby”, and you would have trembled with amazement that you even get to cross paths with such a lady, let alone receive her appreciation or affection. you might be at a loss for words. But that would be okay.

12-something - you finally find yourself at the front of the line, and you help yourself to some hot pasta and sauce or chicken and potatoes or sausage and sauerkraut or some kind of soup and vegetables or whatever they’ve got going on there, and some salad and maybe a breadstick or two. as you head back into the dining room to sit down and share in the meal, you notice that there’s a few who can't get food for themselves, so their plates are being served up and brought to them by another member of the…family, yes, that’s what it feels like…

Around 1 pm – once lunch is over, you may be in for a treat, and i don’t mean the sugar-sweet kind for your tastebuds…i’m talking about some serious ear candy and real endorphin-boosting events here. you, my friend, have been invited to a 'concert' by the original/founding Francis House attendee. as you follow him down the hall to the Francis House chapel, one of us FVMs fills you in on a little background info: he's been living with HIV for 30 years now, since he was 21; he grew up in Camden and Philly, went too far with drugs, went into a coma for 3 months, Sue took care of him, got him back on his feet; now he's living in his own apartment, still needs a lot of help, needs a cane or walker to walk safely, repeats himself a lot and slurs his speech so you gotta listen hard; but his gift, what he loves to do to welcome newcomers to Francis House, is to take them into the chapel, plug in his little boombox he carries everywhere, pop in a disc of Marvin Gaye or Barry White or Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson, and sing along with all his soul. and this is what graces your senses for the next half hour or so as you sit in the first pew row facing this marvel of a man who is currently sprawled on the green felt carpet on the front step of the chapel. some of the tracks skip and scratch, and some he fast-forwards past to get to his favorites, but each one truly is a gift from his heart to yours. and you’ll know when he’s wrapping up because he’ll put on an instrumental track and talk to his little audience, asking you how you liked 'the show', telling you straight out that it was 'awesome' and that he's 'the best! I’m the best! I’m the best!’ and you lean forward and listen closely when he starts telling some cautionary stories from his turbulent life, some crazy true shit [sprinkled liberally with many such descriptions because they’re really the only ones that fit], and you’re like, This guy did WHAT!?! WHAT THE?!? but you hear him, too, saying how blessed he is, and how he’s done with all that, and you might even hear him give a shout-out to how much he loves us FVMs, how we're his 'crew', how God is good to him and gave him this calling to be a blessing to Francis House. and at some point Sue or somebody pokes their head in to say that his ride is there to pick him up, or maybe just to say “enough’s enough! Get back in here with everybody else!” and so you watch as the boombox and CDs get shoved back in his bag, as he juggles his long legs back up to standing position, and as he shuffles along out of there, leaning heavily on his walking-aid device of choice. you wonder, How does it feel? What does he need? What does anybody need? but all you know is you needed that. and you will never listen to those songs the same way again. and again, you’ve been nourished somewhere you didn’t even know you needed to be.

2 pm or so – it’s closing-up time for Francis House, and you see people making the rounds for hugs, zipping up their jackets and gathering up their bags of leftovers or personal care items or whatever they needed to take home. you wave them off with a sigh that could mean anything in the world. on your way out, Sue wraps you in a hug that’s like – oh. that’s what it feels like to be hugged by God in Momma form. and you know you’re not the first to think that. and you want to learn how to love like that. and you will. because God. loves. you.

Amen.

camden.gets.funky.

last night, for our 'community fun night', we headed over to the Camden waterfront area, which has been developed in recent years with an Aquarium and a Children's Garden and a boardwalk along the Delaware River. browsing for local events online, we stumbled onto this and decided to check it out.

Courier Post online photo

delighted to find free parking just across the street from what promised to be a fantastic free concert, we weren't too fazed by the numerous smashed beer bottles and cases strewn about the lot; we encounter these every day just walking the four blocks between our house and the church. so we made our way down to the crowd at the foot of the Wiggins Park stage, set with a perfect view of the Philadelphia nighttime skyline (pictured above during daylight and below at night). and were pleasantly surprised by the high-energy, wholesome blend of soul/funk/rock/gospel music streaming live from the speakers and infusing the audience with some in-your-face hope-in-spite-of-everything, with the audacity to dance their hearts out or the freedom to lay out on the grass and let the soundwaves wash over them. thanks to the Robert Randolph Family Band, the "most-often-stuck-in-my-head" award these days goes a little like this... "you're a shining star, no matter who you are, shining bright to see what you could truly be..."

just across the water, at the Penn's Landing riverfront area of Philadelphia, free festivals like this are common all summer long. in fact, probably a good portion of the people milling around last night came over via the Ben Franklin Bridge to enjoy one more end-of-summer bash, with a little change of scenery. but in Camden, it is a significant and triumphant step to put on such an event and hope, por favor, that it will happen again next year. and it doesn't solve any of the massive headaches Camden faces, doesn't exactly alleviate poverty or improve education or reduce violence or any of those urgently necessary things, but i do think the presence of events like this is important sometimes. to create space and an environment where people can celebrate the good and the possibilities in life together, or at least escape from some of its stresses and pressures. to rain down a little joy-burst on the dust and busyness of our lives. to remind us of the starlight within...

it's.about.time.

time for weddings: my first classmate from high school got married Saturday, and i was almost crying along with his mother, because he was like my brother, and now he's all graduated from college and planning to work in a church for a few years and then move back to India with his beautiful WIFE, and it's all just such a mystery, how a young man would decide to lead a woman from her home, to take her on his arm and up to the altar and into his soul and all over the world. why would someone do that, take so much responsibility for another human life? that's crazy.

time for prayer meetings: on Sunday the Daudt's had all the Mu Kappa seniors over to their house, and again i was almost crying as i shared my summer plans and sketchy ideas of what i might do next year, and as people prayed for me and shared scripture that came to their minds, and then we heard everyone else's stories and situations and prayed over each of them, and it's all such a scary storm of wondering where and who and how and what we will be and do in our journeys after graduation.

time for guitar tabs: it never fails, right around the last few weeks of every semester, i always get the urge to pull out mi guitarra whenever i have a few 'free' minutes every day, and try to work up callouses on my fingertips and perfect the few little ditties i have memorized and try to add new chords or new songs to my repertoire. no matter how busy i am, regardless of how many papers and meetings and presentations i have to prepare or emails i have to send or errands i have to run, my itch to play only seems to increase as i get closer to the end. this time i decided to tackle the new skill of reading actual guitar tabs online for a few of my favorite songs by Rosie Thomas and the Weepies, because i've only ever looked at chord charts before, but that doesn't quite do it for these pieces. so now i've got a few new little licks i like to play over and over again, trying to get them just right and improvise in my own style, too.

time for cooking Indian food and baking cookies, time for planning road trips, time for breakfast dates and coffee dates, time for feeding little blue beta fish, time for singing like a big blue beluga whale with the alto section of Chorale, time for doing laundry and taking showers, time for getting to chapel on time for once...

there is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
~ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Dona nobis pacem. O God. Grant us peace. [it's about time...Jesus, would you, please?...]

sparkling.wanderlied.

Wohl auf! Noch getrunken den funkelnden Wein!
Ade nun, ihr Lieben! Geschieden muss sein.
Ade nun, ihr Berge, du väterlich Haus!
Es treibt in die Ferne mich mächtig hinaus,

Die Sonne, sie bleibet am Himmel nicht steh’n,
Es treibt sie, durch Länder und Meere zu geh’n.
Die Woge nicht haftet am einsamen Strand,
Die Stürme, sie brausen mit Macht durch das Land.

Mit eilenden Wolken der Vogel dort zieht
Und singt in der Ferne ein heimatlich Lied.
So treibt es den Burschen durch Wälder und Feld,
Zu gleichen der Mutter, der wandernden Welt.

Da grüssen ihn Vögel bekannt über’m Meer,
Sie flogen von Fluren der Heimat hieher;
Da duften die Blumen vertraulich um ihn,
Sie triben vom Lande die Lüfte dahin.
Die Vögel, die kennen sein väterlich Haus,
Die Blumen, die pflanzt’ er der Liebe zum Strauss,
Und Liebe, die folgt ihm, sie geht ihm zur Hand :
So wird ihm zur Heimat das ferneste Land.


Wandering Song.

Well then, drink once more the sparkling wine!
Adieu then, my loved ones, we shall have to part.
Adieu then, you mountains, my paternal house!
A mighty force urges me to go to the distant lands.

The sun does not stand still in the sky,
It is driven over countries and seas.
The wave does not stay by the lonely shore,
The storms, they roar forcefully through the land.

With hurrying clouds the bird there flies,
And sings in the foreign land a song of homeland.
So it drives the young fellow through forest and field,
To resemble his mother, the wandering world.

There birds that he knows will greet him across sea,
They flew from the meadows of his homeland here;
There flowers surround him with intimate scent,
The breezes from the homeland wafted them here.
The birds, they know his paternal house,
The flowers he planted as a bouquet for love,
And love, it follows him, helps him along:
So he will find himself at home in the most distant land.

Well then, drink once more the sparkling wine!
Adieu then, my loved ones, we shall have to part.
Adieu then, you mountains, my paternal house!
A mighty force urges me to go to the distant lands.

one.plus.one.plus.one.equals.one.

1 + 1 + 1 = 1. yes, es la verdad. on this Chorale tour, we learned that this is true. before the wheels roll, each person checks to makes sure that one (myself) plus one (the person who stands on my right in mixed formation) plus one (the person who stands on my left in mixed formation) equals one (the whole unified Chorale).

highlights:

1. singing at the Holmstad, a retirement home in Batavia, IL, and meeting George, an outgoing old guy who grew up as an MK in Venezuela and then spent most of his life as an international airline pilot, calling Hong Kong home for a while and seeing all kinds of other places. he and i chatted for quite a while, and then i think he found almost every other MK in the Chorale and talked to them at length, too. he was so overjoyed to find young people, young MKs using their talents, and he talked about being inspired to maybe find the college MK groups in his area to advise or encourage them or just see what they're up to these days. also, after the concert i ran into my childhood doctor and his wife, who were good friends with my grandparents back in the day, and recognized my name in the program! small, small world.
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1. singing at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago, for their free noon-time concert series, where a number of homeless guys were sleeping in the pews when we walked in, and i had tears squeezing from my soul and eyes when we got to sing "on Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand," because i knew that those guys truly had nowhere else to go, nothing else to stand on or build their lives on, and i wanted so much for the words we sang to sink into their hearts and invite them to put their hope in him if they couldn't put it in the street crowd, and make their home in him if they couldn't make it in an apartment or even a shelter, and be bathed in his unchanging love if not in a hot shower, and be fed by the bread of life if not by a bagel or a burger...but i wanted to do those things for them, too. and i met T.J., bless his heart, who told it to us straight about the hard life he was living, and about how he sometimes walks the streets and freezes and cries, or comes into Fourth Pres and chills on a pew and cries out to God, praying and trusting that there's a purpose for him to be so downtrodden these days and months, maybe God's gonna raise him up, or just use him wherever he is to be a blessing, whenever someone blesses him he shares, he passes it on to his friends on the street who having a hard time, and he prays, prays and cries, cries and prays. it ripped at me to leave him there, to know there are so many more beautiful souls living just as painfully all throughout the cities of this country and the world. i am so pitifully rich; it is a pity that i don't give away more of what i have more freely to those who need it more than i do.
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1. singing at Elmbrook church in Brookfield, WI - the home church of Brad Larson, one of the students who was killed in the Taylor van accident my freshman year. his parents invited the Chorale to come and sing, kind of as a memorial for him and a gathering of Taylor alumni. so emotional - Solid Rock was what we sang at the memorial service the year after the accident, impossible to keep dry eyes when the memories flowed back so freely and we were singing straight into the teary eyes and tender hearts of his parents. almost three years later, but how can you recover from losing a son, seriously? everything and everyone on earth we could possibly put our hope in may fail us and leave us, but "our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness". and our children are not naturally supposed to get to our heavenly home before us, but if they do, we can trust in the promise that we're coming too!
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1. one beautiful, blessed, final Chorale tour. sadness that it's over, but gladness that it happened and that the God of grace and God of glory made himself so deeply present throughout all of it, carrying our heavy burdens and preaching peace into us and revealing his dwelling place inside each person we met.

haha, i just remembered that Chorale Officer Matthew wanted to call it the 'Trinity Check', and i liked it ecstatically but then had to agree with Officer Mark that it sounded semi-blasphemous. ;-) but it is actually a pretty good expression of the mystery of the real Trinity, right? one (Father) plus one (Son) plus one (Holy Spirit) equals ONE!!!

peace, people. "shower the people you love with love"

ashes.ashes.we.all.fall.

Ash Wednesday is today. i love going to the service and getting the little cross on my forehead. this is maybe not the real meaning of it that they'll be explaining to us in church this evening, but in my own little world i think it's like a gentle touch-whisper of a reminder that i am a creation of the Creator, a child of the Father, a sister of the Savior, a mind being molded to love Jesus and love like the Christ, a temporary temple of a body that will so soon creak and rattle and decay and turn to dust, and also a glorious soul that will receive a new body free from the temptations and fears and fights and tears of this life. and that we are living in the meantime, the in-between. and that the reality of the One who dwells within us should be evident on our faces and in our speech and through the work of our hands. and that the Word, the living story of the embodiment of Love, is written on our hearts. and that someday we will see the I AM face to face, even if we can only see God's back for now [read Exodus 33]. mientras que esperamos...

i'm always curious what other people are doing to observe Lent.


for my Personal Foundations for Ministry class, we have to make a plan for practicing a spiritual discipline over the next 8 weeks or so. how convenient. i'm excited about it because i was getting inklings and advice about a couple of things i should instigate more intentionally in my life even before i thought about this project. no, friends, it's not fasting. :-P and i don't plan on saying much more than that about it, but would definitely appreciate prayer as i try to stick to this commitment and let the Spirit work through it!

i found this set of poems by T.S. Eliot, entitled Ash Wednesday, written shortly after his commitment to Christ within the Anglican Church. they are somewhat inscrutable in parts, maybe i just don't get a lot of the allusions he's making, but he writes so lyrically, and even where i don't understand it lends an air of mystery that is strangely comforting to me. like language can't contain everything there is or even everything we know, which is such a small portion of everything there is and why everything is anyway.

for someone who loves putting words together and pulling meaning out of them, who worries when words are left unsaid or badly said [which i do ALL THE TIME] or misinterpreted or ignored, it is good to hear, from poem V (five):

"If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word."

[it sounds like a tongue-twister at first, but makes more sense after reading through a few times]

'beauty for ashes', i need to go make a playlist of all the songs that are titled that. [like the one by Shane and Shane, and this one by Jinny Kim...]

chau for now.

this.old.world.

oh this messy spinning world. sometimes it just makes me wanna go home early, like Psalm 90:1 says LORD, in all generations you have been our home. or as a family friend of ours, a Southern preacher kind of guy, used to say to his son when he did something that got on his nerves, "Son?! you wanna meet Jesus early?!! well you just keep on doin that there and you will!" sometimes i think i would really kind of like that. send me to meet Jesus early, Mr. Williams, sir!

but then i get to see a roomful of salt-and-pepper-haired soft-wrinkled faces smile and tear up as my choir sings "swing low, sweet chariot", and i'm glad again that i've got a little (God-knows-how-much) more time left in life to make people smile and cry.