As I begin again to post on this blog, I'm considering the reason I started in the first place.
To actively record my hope sightings. To memorialize the moments when hope rose to surface above the muck and sludge of life.
But what I didn't anticipate was the difficulty in seeing and defining those moments. The reality is that not every day is filled with them. Sometimes hope is hard to even conceptualize.
I think in those times when hope seems so far-fetched, so unattainable, so non-existent and impossible--in those moments, we have to look to each other for reminders that hope does, in fact, live on.
I recently discovered a podcast that addresses some of this. Thank you Donald Miller! He dares to say the things I only think... Listen to Donald speak on Hope.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Resolutions, Records, and Reflections
Out of the void I come, returning to this blog, vowing to make this new year one of reflection. Time has escaped me. I've lost all concept of it, going, going, gone... In much of my going and doing, I've missed precious moments. So, my resolution is to keep forcing myself to take time to observe, watch, listen, discern, and reflect.
Since Thanksgiving, I've come and gone from Michigan and Pennsylvania, both providing my senses with the much-needed atmosphere of winter wonderland I'd been craving. I had the pleasure of being with my family and dear friends, wishing the time would never end. I acted like a tourist in the 'Burgh, going to a Pens game (thank you Max!), eating at Primanti Bros (twice), and visiting the Fort Pitt museum (did you know it exists?). I've come to love the quirky, beautifully unique aspects of this city that I grew up near and never truly explored.
The change of scenery was nice. I worked a bit from the road, trying to stay on top of the countless emails and voicemails from eager volunteers, many of which would be arriving to work immediately after Christmas. But I managed to set apart two entire days, refusing to respond to the technology beckoning me to react.
Upon my return to New Orleans, over 100 volunteers were ready and waiting to invest their time and energy into helping others rebuild their lives--the true spirit of Christmas in my mind. Although Christmas looked and felt a lot different this year--no tree or lights in my apartment, no Christmas Eve service--I experienced the reality of Immanuel, God With Us.
Making the invisible God, visible--people came of all ages, colors, faith-backgrounds, genders, as they do every week--to serve, demonstrating compassion and love.
Since my time began in St. Bernard nearly 4 months ago, 25 families homes are now underway, 10 of which should be 'officially' completed by the end of January. An average of 75-100 volunteers bring their hands and hope weekly to make the rebuilding process a reality. (If I do the math on the number of volunteers I've worked with, it might be too much for me, so I'll leave that up to you.) Just last week we hit a record: over 150 volunteers for the week and 19 houses actively running with volunteers!
I'm optimistic this new year. I've seen so much pain, yet so much hope these past months. Homeowners will tell you their harrowing story with the grand finale resembling something like, "But Katrina was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I've learned to be grateful for the numerous blessings that have come through learning to receive."
As I sit here in our humble office, I'm reminded that this organization that is impacting so many lives was started and is run by people who aren't even claiming to rely on God for strength or direction. The activeness of the relief/volunteer community, largely made up of humanitarian folk, makes me think critically about how "Christians" are doing in this world where we are called to love our neighbors and be good Samaritans.
The hunt for a church as I keep this issue in mind continues to be a struggle. I've gone to 4 now and wonder where I should plant my roots for the next three-quarters of this year. If you're a praying person, I would appreciate prayers for wisdom and discernment. I don't want to miss out this year--on the lessons, on the relationships, on the things of true value.
If you're reading this, I was probably thinking of you when I wrote this. (My mind is swirling with memories and thoughts of the people I love.)
How I long for the day when there's no good-byes...Until then, my hope is that we will all find our places and roles in this world, learning along the way, as we discover and grow into the best versions of ourselves.
Since Thanksgiving, I've come and gone from Michigan and Pennsylvania, both providing my senses with the much-needed atmosphere of winter wonderland I'd been craving. I had the pleasure of being with my family and dear friends, wishing the time would never end. I acted like a tourist in the 'Burgh, going to a Pens game (thank you Max!), eating at Primanti Bros (twice), and visiting the Fort Pitt museum (did you know it exists?). I've come to love the quirky, beautifully unique aspects of this city that I grew up near and never truly explored.
The change of scenery was nice. I worked a bit from the road, trying to stay on top of the countless emails and voicemails from eager volunteers, many of which would be arriving to work immediately after Christmas. But I managed to set apart two entire days, refusing to respond to the technology beckoning me to react.
Upon my return to New Orleans, over 100 volunteers were ready and waiting to invest their time and energy into helping others rebuild their lives--the true spirit of Christmas in my mind. Although Christmas looked and felt a lot different this year--no tree or lights in my apartment, no Christmas Eve service--I experienced the reality of Immanuel, God With Us.
Making the invisible God, visible--people came of all ages, colors, faith-backgrounds, genders, as they do every week--to serve, demonstrating compassion and love.
Since my time began in St. Bernard nearly 4 months ago, 25 families homes are now underway, 10 of which should be 'officially' completed by the end of January. An average of 75-100 volunteers bring their hands and hope weekly to make the rebuilding process a reality. (If I do the math on the number of volunteers I've worked with, it might be too much for me, so I'll leave that up to you.) Just last week we hit a record: over 150 volunteers for the week and 19 houses actively running with volunteers!
I'm optimistic this new year. I've seen so much pain, yet so much hope these past months. Homeowners will tell you their harrowing story with the grand finale resembling something like, "But Katrina was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I've learned to be grateful for the numerous blessings that have come through learning to receive."
As I sit here in our humble office, I'm reminded that this organization that is impacting so many lives was started and is run by people who aren't even claiming to rely on God for strength or direction. The activeness of the relief/volunteer community, largely made up of humanitarian folk, makes me think critically about how "Christians" are doing in this world where we are called to love our neighbors and be good Samaritans.
The hunt for a church as I keep this issue in mind continues to be a struggle. I've gone to 4 now and wonder where I should plant my roots for the next three-quarters of this year. If you're a praying person, I would appreciate prayers for wisdom and discernment. I don't want to miss out this year--on the lessons, on the relationships, on the things of true value.
If you're reading this, I was probably thinking of you when I wrote this. (My mind is swirling with memories and thoughts of the people I love.)
How I long for the day when there's no good-byes...Until then, my hope is that we will all find our places and roles in this world, learning along the way, as we discover and grow into the best versions of ourselves.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
With Gratitude
Seasons matter. They indicate to our senses the passage of time. Without them, I feel disoriented, like this day of gratitude has appeared without much warning. Finally today, the temperature fell and my mind could reconcile a bit more that it is, in fact, November.
Our office was open today for a half-day while over 90 volunteers from all around the country served families that were perfect strangers just 4 days ago. On my way home, I stopped at Miss Smiles' home and got there just in time for sweet potatoes, some unknown southern vegetable similar to a pepper, chicken, and baked macaroni. Her daughter and son-in-law also came by to wish the volunteers who had been painting a Happy Thanksgiving. It was a beautiful half-hour--a mix of race, culture, tradition--all in the framework of gratitude.
As I've noticed the importance of seasons in the physical realm, I consider the seasons in our spiritual lives as well. I know that this season is different... and I'm beginning to be ok with that. I'm fighting the urge to replicate my CO life and instead am asking what this season should bring. All the while, I'm grateful that life brings changes, seasons--that not every day is the same, that while there may be indicators, we're not certain what that will mean. I'm thankful for uncertainty and the opportunity to seek and trust.
This Thanksgiving day, I'm also filled with gratitude that I am human, that I feel, that I was made to love and be loved, and that so many have been part of the seasons of my life.
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
--Nichole Nordeman, an excerpt from "Gratitude"
Our office was open today for a half-day while over 90 volunteers from all around the country served families that were perfect strangers just 4 days ago. On my way home, I stopped at Miss Smiles' home and got there just in time for sweet potatoes, some unknown southern vegetable similar to a pepper, chicken, and baked macaroni. Her daughter and son-in-law also came by to wish the volunteers who had been painting a Happy Thanksgiving. It was a beautiful half-hour--a mix of race, culture, tradition--all in the framework of gratitude.
As I've noticed the importance of seasons in the physical realm, I consider the seasons in our spiritual lives as well. I know that this season is different... and I'm beginning to be ok with that. I'm fighting the urge to replicate my CO life and instead am asking what this season should bring. All the while, I'm grateful that life brings changes, seasons--that not every day is the same, that while there may be indicators, we're not certain what that will mean. I'm thankful for uncertainty and the opportunity to seek and trust.
This Thanksgiving day, I'm also filled with gratitude that I am human, that I feel, that I was made to love and be loved, and that so many have been part of the seasons of my life.
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
--Nichole Nordeman, an excerpt from "Gratitude"
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Home Away from Home
Another new beginning... my first night in my new apartment! Unpacking tonight made me feel extremely grateful for this place, this chance, this year. It's a shotgun style place with high ceilings and exposed brick over the closed-off fireplaces. There are 19 less beds then in the last house, so it automatically feels less lonely, less like others are missing. It's furnished but without a TV and I'm looking forward to the reflection time that will inevitably allow.
Many thanks to Max for bailing me out and helping me move, packing my entire car, while I rested. (I'm fighting off some kind of cold/flu right now.) Thankfully we're not working Saturday, so I'll have a true weekend to recuperate.
As I look around this new home of mine, I ponder what the memories of the next 11 or so months might entail...
Many thanks to Max for bailing me out and helping me move, packing my entire car, while I rested. (I'm fighting off some kind of cold/flu right now.) Thankfully we're not working Saturday, so I'll have a true weekend to recuperate.
As I look around this new home of mine, I ponder what the memories of the next 11 or so months might entail...
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunrise, Sunset
Just a few moments ago a sweet girl, accompanied by her father, came in to fill out an application to have help rebuilding their home. I should expect it, but every time a resident launches into their story, I'm shocked. I suppose I should be grateful that I haven't become desensitized to it all just yet.
She explained, "My mom kind of drowned in the storm. I evacuated like a week before, but she didn't," with unbelief and denial still laced in her voice over two years later.
When she turned in her application to me, her dad also handed me the program from the funeral of his 55-year old wife. Smudged with fingerprints and worn with time, the photo of this wife and mother was so pixelated I could barely make out her features. All I could say to him was a heartfelt, yet completely inadequate, "I'm sorry." I could see the memories in his eyes as he took it back and studied her face on the cover. He couldn't speak, but simply pointed to the top: Sunrise- 1950, Sunset- 2005.
Oh God, before the sun sets on my days, help me to live my live as wholly yours!
She explained, "My mom kind of drowned in the storm. I evacuated like a week before, but she didn't," with unbelief and denial still laced in her voice over two years later.
When she turned in her application to me, her dad also handed me the program from the funeral of his 55-year old wife. Smudged with fingerprints and worn with time, the photo of this wife and mother was so pixelated I could barely make out her features. All I could say to him was a heartfelt, yet completely inadequate, "I'm sorry." I could see the memories in his eyes as he took it back and studied her face on the cover. He couldn't speak, but simply pointed to the top: Sunrise- 1950, Sunset- 2005.
Oh God, before the sun sets on my days, help me to live my live as wholly yours!
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Blessed Reassurance
"Yet there is no doubt that God prepared me for this life I now lead,
connecting the varied and ironic threads of my experience into a beautiful tapestry as He would see fit."
--Ravi Zacharias, Walking from East to West
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