lenten.prayer.and.art.therapy.

Catch Me in My Scurrying

Catch me in my anxious scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my feet to the fire of your grace
    and make me attentive to my mortality
        that I may begin to die now
            to those things that keep me
                from living with you
                    and with my neighbors on this earth;
            to grudges and indifference,
                to certainties that smother possibilities,
                    to my fascination with false securities,
                        to my addiction to sweatless dreams,
                            to my arrogant insistence on how it has to be;
            to my corrosive fear of dying someday
                which eats away the wonder of living this day,
                    and the adventure of losing my life
                        in order to find it in you.

Catch my in my aimless scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my heart to the beat of your grace
    and create in me a resting place,
        a kneeling place,
            a tip-toe place
where I can recover from the dis-ease of my grandiosities
    which fill my mind and calendar with busy self-importance,
that I may become vulnerable enough
    to dare intimacy with the familiar,
        to listen cup-eared for your summons,
            and to watch squint-eyed for your crooked finger
                in the crying of a child,
                    in the hunger of the street people,
                        in the fear of the contagion of terrorism in all people,
                in the rage of those oppressed because of sex or race,
                    in the smoldering resentments of exploited third world nations,
                        in the sullen apathy of the poor and ghetto-strangled people,
                            in my lonely doubt and limping ambivalence;
and somehow,
    during this season of sacrifice,
        enable me to sacrifice time
            and possessions
                and securities,
to do something...
    something about what I see,
        something to turn the water of my words
            into the wine of will and risk,
                into the bread of blood and blisters,
                    into the blessedness of deed,
                        of a cross picked up,
                            a saviour followed.

Catch me in my mindless scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my spirit to the beacon of your grace
    and grant me light enough to walk boldly,
        to feel passionately,
            to love actively;
grant me peace enough to want more,
    to work for more
        and to submit to nothing less,
           and to fear only you...
               only you!
Bequeath me not becalmed seas,
    slack sails and premature benedictions,
        but breathe into me a torment,
            storm enough to make within myself
                and from myself,
                    something...
something new,
    something saving,
        something true,
a gladness of heart,
    a pitch for a song in the storm,
        a word of praise lived,
            a gratitude shared,
                a cross dared,
                    a joy received.

Poem-prayer by: Ted Loder, from the book Guerrillas of Grace

Good Friday: mi hijo, mi hijo!

most of it is familiar by now. i sing. i sit. i stand. i kneel. i bow my head to receive a flinging of water from Father Jud. i sing again. sit again. stand. kneel. sit. stand. watch a line of people file forward to kiss the crucifix. sing again. hold hands to pray the Lord's prayer. share the sign of peace via hugs, handshakes, air-kisses, and the two-finger wave. sit. stand. sing. watch line of people file forward to receive the Eucharist. sit. kneel. stand. bow head to receive the benediction. cross myself because i really do want to be a living moving loving image of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. amen.

and then i am whisked downstairs and given a white robe. told to sit while several women hover around my head, wrapping it in a blue sheet, and draping another blue-green sheet around my shoulders. Maria, Maria. now you are ready. si? vamonos!

we go outside, to the front of the church where la gente, the people are gathering. a fire department van is parked on the curb, door open and microphone at the ready so the readings and reflections can be heard by the multitude. police were supposed to come at 1:30 and block off River Road so we could safely walk the route of La Via Crucis, Stations of the Cross, but they're late, so a few usher-men with muscles stand guard at the edge of the crowd, waving traffic past us slowly, one at a time.

la primera estacion: Jesus is condemned to death. Pilate asks what the people want and the crowd cries, "crucificalo! crucificalo!" i shake my head helplessly, "no, no".

the second station: Jesus carries his cross. los soldados, the soldiers prod him on with stinging flicks of rope. i follow several feet behind, surrounded by a group of similarly-draped women. wailing. someone i love is going to die.

la tercera estacion: Jesus falls for the first time. i feel the clatter of the cross on the pavement in my bones. the women around me whisper, "llora, llora mas fuerte, Maria; cry harder, Mary". it is not hard to do as they say.

the fourth station: Jesus meets his mother. me. by this time the women are holding me up, physically supporting me through the convulsions of mourning, protesting against what is being done to my son. suddenly i break out of their arms, screaming, "!MI HIJO! !MI HIJO!" grasping towards him, let me touch my son! but the soldiers push back, grab my arms and return me to my place with the women, who rub my back and soothe my shuddering frame. i didn't realize how much grief energy that would actually evoke from me. i kneel. Maria, Maria. madre de Dios. ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte, amen. we move on. the rest of the walk goes by in a blur of feet and grass dimly seen through the bunch of blue cloth that i can't tear away from my face as i whisper, ?porque, porque sufres mi hijo? why do you suffer, my son?

la quinta estacion: Simon of Cyrene carries the cross.

the sixth station: Veronica wipes the face of Jesus.

la septima estacion: Jesus falls the second time.

the eighth station: Jesus meets the weeping daughters of Jerusalem.

la novena estacion: Jesus falls the third time.

the tenth station: Jesus is stripped of his garments.

la undecima estacion: Jesus is nailed to the cross. crucified. the crowd is electrified. we women keep on weeping, weeping.

the twelfth station: Jesus dies on the cross.

la decimotercera estacion: Jesus' body is removed from the cross. and placed on MY LAP. "were you there when they crucified my Lord? oh sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble..."

the fourteenth station: Jesus is laid in the tomb and covered in incense.

INTENSE.

i had no idea it would be such an experience.

such an honor and such a penance.

may we all recognize and choose to walk the way of the cross in our lives.

may we take the chance,

may we walk, stand, sit, kneel, run, cry, dance

the way, because we know the story doesn't end there. see you on the path, amigos. ;)

poets.of.poverty.and.peace.

yesterday i went to the 7th annual gathering on peace and justice, hosted by the peace community that lives around the Sacred Heart parish in south Camden. in between sessions, i wandered a bit through the cracks and crevices and passageways of the church and up and down the dirty-snow-lined streets of row houses around it. my camera's eyes were captured by some stunning works of art done by parishioners - some vibrant iconic paintings hung in frames on walls in sacred spaces in the church, and some guerrilla poetry slammed gracefully on sheets of wood and nailed to the windows and doors of abandoned houses and storefronts in the neighborhood. here is a little video giving glimpses of these bursts of beauty and light in the 'dark' of a city many assume to be as good as dead or dying. the song is from the Taize community, saying "La tenebre n'est point tenebre devant toi; la nuit comme le jour est lumiere" / Our darkness is never darkness in your sight; the deepest night is clear as the daylight. [amen]

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

nativity.creativity.

the other night, after a time of prayer together, my housemates and i got our creative hats and economical slippers on and cut shapes out of paint color-chips to craft some cards for the people we are connected to here in camden, and here is a glimpse of a few of them. some of them express something about our personal connection with that person, and some of them express my prayer for all of you and all of the world: PEACE.

be.the.art.in.me.

here's a taste of the Camden FVMs' most recent homemade community fun night:

- choose your own recipe: take your choice group of adventurers, and sit them down with their computers for 15 minutes to visit www.muralfarm.org and each choose one mural from Philadelphia's 1,500-count-and-growing roster of impressive community art projects

- gather your ingredients: ensure that each adventurer has a working camera, that at least one has a driver's license with them, and that someone has the addresses and directions to the chosen locations

- grease the pan: add gas to car [or, if in Jersey, let the gas station attendant do so]

- turn up the cooking-heat: park and turn adventurers loose at each destination to take pictures of the part or parts of the mural that are somehow personally meaningful or artistically attractive

- stir in some reverence for the 'healing power of music' and other art forms

- shake it up by striving to become part of the muralscape if possible

- let it rise: go home, share some kind of food and a time of silent prayer together, and then share the pictures and the thoughts evoked by them.

- enjoy :)

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.

feasting.for.peace.

so, this past weekend i experienced a major milestone in the Franciscan calendar and in the life of the parish of St. Anthony of Padua here in Camden: the Transitus and the Feast Day of St. Francis.

the Feast day was on Sunday, Oct. 4, so all three morning masses were dedicated to celebrating Francis' life and example to us as a lover of Christ, people, and all living things. afterwards, many people brought their pets to the front steps of the church to receive a prayer of blessing from the priests - what a lively riot of cats, birds, hamsters, and dogs of all shapes and sizes! and what an act of mindfulness and gratefulness to God - this decision to intentionally, publicly dedicate even the animals in the household to the purposes of God, to acknowledge how all living things can point to the beauty and creativity and love of God. even the Francis House birds, which sometimes stink and squawk our ears off... they got blessed that day, and they can be a blessing, too! and maybe by their very helplessness, their constant demand for attention and care and cleanup, they may help us to practice love and cultivate humility...let's hope so!

the Transitus was Oct. 3, this past Saturday. the occasion, commemorating the date of St. Francis' death, was marked by an evening liturgical service. the Bible study group that i have been attending with my fellow FVMs and several families from the church, called Quest, was asked to prepare and lead the service, so i was privileged to participate in:

- welcoming people at the door

- handing out programs and candles to each one

- walking silently and joyfully in the opening candlelight procession into the church

- watching a slideshow/video of the story and sayings of St. Francis as he faced and welcomed his death by inviting his fellow religious brothers to his bedside and encouraging them to love God and be faithful to the Gospel

- listening to the same passage from the Gospel of John 13:1-17, which Francis asked his friends to read to him right before he died

- listening to Deacon Fadi, a Franciscan friar from Jordan, share a reflection about St. Francis' life of peacemaking, particularly his efforts to care for creation and to befriend the Sultan of Egypt in the middle of the Crusades

- eating the fresh, soft roll of bread that was handed to me and to each one there, so we could communally remember and experience the way St. Francis wanted to share abundantly with everyone in need

- introducing the intercessory prayer along with my roommate, Norma, who said: "In the spirit of St. Francis, we pray for peace in the world, in our city, in our church, and in our spirits, by lighting these candles and speaking these words that mean 'peace' in 14 different languages." and then i said: "esta noche, oramos por la paz en el mundo, por la paz en nuestra ciudad, en nuestra iglesia, y en nuestros espiritus, mientras que iluminamos estas velas y decimos estas palabras que significan 'paz' en catorce lenguas diferentes. entonces, en el espiritu de San Francisco y en el nombre de Jesucristo, oramos: paz y bien (spanish), salaam (arabic), shalom (hebrew), amaithi (tamil), shanti (hindi), amani (swahili), mir (russian), hoa binh (vietnamese), he ping (chinese), paix (french), frieden (german), pace (italian), irini (greek), peace." as i said each word, one of the Quest group members placed these prayers for peace in front of a candle and lit it, and when all were said and lit, everyone said together, "Gracious Lord, hear our prayer"

- witnessing the blessing of a relic of St. Francis, which was a small scrap of cloth set in a metal medallion with a clear glass front, which was further set in the center of a gold cross, similar to these pictures:

- holding hands with everyone in the congregation to pray the Lord's Prayer

- shaking hands, hugging, or cheek-kissing everyone who recognizes us FVMs on our way downstairs for the refreshments after the end of the service

- sampling various treats including a home-brewed hot chocolate with cinnamon, cubes of 'pasta de guayaba' (guava jelly/paste) with cheese, pumpkin spice mini-muffins from a local bakery, and a peach jello-cake with cool whip and fresh blueberries on top (made specially by one of my fellow FVMs, with my help frosting and designing the blueberry placement pattern :)

- going home inspired to read more about the life of St. Francis

also on Sunday, i was able to visit the First Baptist Church of Moorestown, a wonderfully welcoming little community, which was celebrating World Communion Sunday. so, the children's sermon featured several baskets of traditional breads from various countries and cultures of the world, and the grown-ups' sermon emphasized the message that even though there are so many different traditions of how to share in the Lord's Supper/Communion/Eucharist/etc, and so many different explanations or doctrines about what actually occurs in that mystery of broken bread and poured drink and human bodies-minds-hearts and God's presence all meeting together somehow...even though all these divisions seem to exist and complicate our existence, still we can meet together, we can share the experience, we can be shaped more and more into the fullness of who God means us to be, to be like Christ, to affirm with our whole beings that there are many kinds of feasting, but "there is one body and one Spirit - just as [we] were called to one hope when [we] were called - one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." (Ephesians 4:4-6)

what a vision of unity; wholeness; peace. i'll feast to that.

lately.life.loves.mystery.

so here's how Life's been loving me lately:

- two and a half weeks in lovely Pennsylvania, visiting friends and helping out at the Holy Donut [the office building where the American Baptist International Ministries mission center is housed, which happens to be shaped like a giant Lifesaver] and learning to drive in a city again and helping out/enjoying Frazer Mennonite Church's annual Peace Festival, and hearing a friend preach and another friend teach Spanish and another friend serenade me with her glorious voice and guitar, and interviewing at Franciscan Volunteer Ministries (FVM) sites in Philadelphia, Camden, and Wilmington, and attending a peace theology conference at Eastern University, and meeting with the human resources rep of Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), and making Indian food with a friend, and enjoying freedom, and encouraging peace, and listening to jazzy ladies sing in my car on my solo road trip back to Wisconsin

- acceptance into the year-long program with FVM to be part of their inner-city ministries, living in prayerful community with a few other volunteers and working probably in some combination of teaching ESL, engaging in community organization, serving meals or distributing food to families, giving kids and youth things to do after school, and possibly starting a choir in a women's prison. insh'allah/si Dios quiere ;-)

- dialogues with a couple of other organizations about getting applications in process for possibilities after this year

- safety in bringin me back to Green Lake ;-)

- summer haircut, so light off the shoulders!

- sweet visits with friends from Taylor who stayed with me here for a week! and bittersweet goodbyes.

- grace to calm screaming toddlers who miss their mommies while i take care of them during the day at the Children's Center. "Miss Anna, um, can I go poddy? Miss Anna, can we go outside? Miss Anna, can you read me this? Miss Anna, he hit me... Miss Anna, bye, see you later!" praying peace, precious ones.

- i just found this quote while browsing the website of Christa Wells, whose Frame the Clouds album has been on repeat on my mp3 player these days:

"I want to be known (if I am to be known at all) as one of the great lovers of life. I want to make love to these days in new--or at least tender and timeless--ways, to make the trees sigh and the sky kneel for a closer view. (If a few others close their eyes and smile for a few moments with me, it is enough.) I want to dip this paintbrush pen into the best places of my heart--those places I have all but forgotten--and paint pictures that might convince even me that I was not born in vain.

We will write to go about the work of saving our lives.

Tentatively, new words come like a still small voice. This is my unspoken request. By some miracle, I ask that my life be a work of art, even if I never see it as such..." ~Linford Detweiler

- so much is still mysterious about my life, about how it intersects with other lives on this planet, about how to understand and connect with the One who is Life and Light and Love and the only true Peace for us all; there is so much i don't know. but i am willing to wait, to live in the unknown, the 'not yet'... and to keep on enjoying the journey, celebrating the adventure, and being precariously perched in the blessed mystery

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?...]

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"

hello.mr.president.

so much art has been inspired by this man over the past two years, though it probably comes more from the hype of presidential campaigning and the symbolism of the collective possibilites of achievement for Americans of all skin colors than from any personal achievement to bring justice or any commitment to King.dom values of peace and nonviolent resistance like the artistic tributes to MLK i posted on his Day. i don't yet see anywhere near the same radical convictions against militarism that King professed, which are still urgently applicable today, while the U.S. continues to amass and research and develop WMDs even though we already have more than the other top 20 countries combined. like a sick, sick bully stockpiling mountains of rocks for his slingshot when all the other kids have only a handful of stones, or no slingshot at all. so sick. i guess encouraging Americans to humble ourselves and serve each other and care for the world is a step in the right direction, a message thankfully a little different from "keep shopping, people". anyway, i put some pieces below that i thought were interesting. or that i just liked the colors. ;-)

i hope that he, who has been blessed with a cross-cultural upbringing, an illustrious education, secure financial situation, loyal wife and daughters, and now with this powerful political and global position, will now work to be a blessing. i hope that he whose given name is Barack will do everything he possibly can to be a 'baraka'.

i love what Rev. Dr. Joseph Lowery prayed in his benediction, his closing prayer of blessing, at the inauguration: "With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors" [!amen!], "when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.
Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right" [i,for one, need to work on that.don't you?and i have read about and been part of maybe a few communities where this is done as a way of life,living the process of true reconciliation, true justice, but...too few, too few.and on a global scale...oh goodness don't get me started on MNCs and economic imperialism...wow.we have a long ways to go]. "Let all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen. say Amen! say Amen."

amen = let it be so. let the hope continue beyond the hype. let him and everyone in positions of power choose to do justice and love mercy and wage peace, not just halt war. por favor. amen.