Thursday, May 9, 2013

Simply Living in Community


The YAV program in Tucson calls us to explore intentional community. The idea seemed pretty straight forward to me until all ten of us were in the same room, shortly after meeting one another, trying to define intentional community. We struggled not only to clearly articulate a definition, but to agree.
Even now, I struggle with the definition of intentional community, but I can say that we as a community have learned and continue to learn to be together, to care for one another exactly where we are.

A few months ago we as YAVs were asked to prepare a meal and be present with the U of A Campus Ministries on one of their Tuesday night worship services. As we tried to explain what it means to live a simple lifestyle and why that is important to us, we again struggled to articulate exactly the beauty we see in the way we choose to live simply.

During the conversation, the question, “How simple is simply?” was asked. My immediate response for this student was concrete. For many months we didn't have enough dining room chairs for all of us, much less all of our guests. After a few moments of reflection, I realized lacking dining room chairs hadn't really changed anything about our community--other than bringing us together to find chair substitutes when we had more guests than chairs. It was in response to this question that I recognized the clear connection of living simply and living in intentional community. By having less attachment to consumerism and material goods, by wiping away that worry, we choose to be more focused on one another. We spend more time thinking about how we can live more sustainably with respect for our bodies, the earth and our world neighbors than worrying about if we have matching furniture. We can spend more time supporting and learning from each other in all aspects of life from a marathon to evening conversations, grocery shopping, and movie nights. We are intentional witnesses and active participants in each other’s lives.

My gratitude for this community and the YAV program is overflowing. I could not be where I am today without this group of wonderful people. I am grateful for the love I have felt not only on my good days, but on the days when I struggle to love myself. Living with this community, encouraged by the YAV program, over the last year and the year before in Guatemala has given me a new perspective on how to live radically while honoring my faith, my body, my heart and my mind within the greater context of seeking justice.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Gratitude

I was tired and homesick. My stomach hurt. I was nearly in tears over my failing ability to translate Spanish and I was put out by my brown surroundings. I was cold in the desert where whoever built my house didn't think that heat was necessary. I really wanted to talk to my dad, but with the inconvenience of time zones, it would require waking him. I was nearly at the edge of what I could handle, blind to the light at the end of the tunnel. In that moment, I remembered sitting in the shade of trees at an outdoor cafe with the Guatemala YAVs discussing gratitude as a spiritual discipline.

I reached back and began to quietly call into focus all the things, in the midst of my long and challenging transition, for which I am grateful. I had allowed myself to fall so far into despair over the difficulties on my path that at first it was difficult to recall my many blessings. I started small with things like my blanket and my wool socks, eventually beginning to tear up at the thought of my wonderful parents and my excellent education that I often take for granted.

That day I decided that in the midst of the difficulty I was going to intentionally take time to be grateful each day. The transformation was astonishing. I recovered my inner peace and stability even in the most difficult situations. I found the strength and patience to confront several of the biggest set backs I have encountered here. That day marks the turning point in my transition to Tucson. Not too many months later, I now feel at home in Tucson and in my community. There may always be rocks in the path, but calling out gratitude, I have found the strength to push forward on the trail. 

Lenten Retreat and Solitude

Today, I would describe myself with several adjectives. One of those is really inconsistent blogger on my almost now, nonexistent blog. I beg your pardon. I have six drafts saved and only one published blog since January. I feel so blessed to have such patient supporters. 

Back in early February, I saw God falling from the sky in the form of snow on the desert. Though the snow did not wrap me in a warm blanket and hold me tight, I with my blue lips and frozen toes felt comforted by the morning snow. It was majestic and surreal to be out on the desert alone on the Lenten Spirituality Retreat. It was mind boggling to be in the desert sleeping near a stream with snow on both cottonwoods and saguaros. 

The retreat, one of the unique facets of the YAV program in Tucson, started with two days of retreat at the main camp ground with my community members. We had times of fellowship and more serious focused moments as we acclimated to the idea of solitude in the desert. On the third morning we moved to our individual sites--spread out along the canyon. 

In my time of solitude, I was pleased to discover, I am very comfortable with myself. Even if I cannot proclaim to know myself through and through, I am absolutely comfortable with me. I felt so much peace sitting on a rock next to the small stream that morphs into a raging river during the monsoon season. I felt joy when I hiked up the canyon wall only to see the peaks of mountains all around me and no sign of urban or human development. I felt so small on God's big earth. I was out of control of what might come my way. I had to let go and be wrapped in his beautiful, intricate quilt or else be overcome by fear. I am so blessed to have experienced so deeply a reminder that God is SO big and that he envelops us each in his hands--his creation, everyday. 

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Confronting the T-word

     The last six months of my journey have been wrapped up in transition. Transition from Guatemala to North Carolina, to Tuscon. From life with my host family and chicken buses to a house with ten peers and fifteen bicycles. From a position where I was outside in the sun engaging my body and mind every day, to a job where I sit at a desk to work my mind and go to the gym to separately to work my body. Transition, a word I didn't write about in my application, but that has been the main theme of my journey. At first I was surprised, even shocked, at the difficulty of transition. I came to abhor and fear yet another change, longing for some kind of stability. 
     Some days, the struggle seems unreal, far away. Like today, January the 21st, MLK day, over seven months since I last wrote a blog. As I sit here on my porch contemplating transition in no shoes, shorts and a t-shirt with a few of my housemates soaking up the sun and the spring-like weather, I wonder if transition is the definition of life. We read the bible, looking to it for life, and in its most basic state it is a set of stories and poems about migration and transition--physically and spiritually. Noah may not have migrated to a new land leaving everything behind, but everything on earth where he had made his life was wiped away in an instant. Simultaneously he was trapped in a boat only to return to the same land which, without people, livestock, birds, or other living creatures did not resemble the land before the flood. God called him out of his comfort zone to be entrenched in transition and love. Sounds simple, right? 
     When I first moved to Tucson, to the desert, I could feel my insides being tugged at by the simple fact that my yard is gravel and everything that is green has more thorns than green. I cannot even begin to imagine the emotional difficulty that comes with a loss of all that lives and breaths on earth. 
      Ruth and Naomi were pulled by God through transition after transition a midst despair and desperation.  god was present as the women. After arriving in Ruth's homeland, unknown to Naomi, Boaz was an instrument of God's grace toward Naomi as she gleaned the fields instructing his works to leave more. Even through the most trying transitions, God is with us and helping us plod along only to arrive more fully in his love. After my rather minimal changes, in comparison, I can't imagine how dizzying these transitions, maybe better called trials, were for the two women. 
     For me, transition has meant fear, grief, pain, trial, and yet, more powerfully love, grace, and mercy. In the middle of it all, the discomfort, the unknowing, the wandering, God is with me and has shown me his face as he takes control in each of our crossing transitory lives. Through these transitions, I have had the privilege of discovering more of who I am and whose I am each day. 
     Transition is biblical, everyone experiences it. Even in the most stable job and household, there is change. Change of procedure, salary, staff, friends, or children who grow up and move out.  Perhaps transition is also the definition of faith- a transition from self reliance to reliance on a more divine being often discovered when in over your head. Transition from being in control of our own lives to Him taking over even those bits where we try to feign control. Through transition, there is faith, hope and love. So perhaps, if we simply wait for transition to pass, or try to push it off with tunnel vision, we might miss life or the next circles of light that God sends to us.