It feels like for years, I've been a part of conversations where I don't agree with what's said. I tend to hold off on disagreeing with even good friends, because I only speak when I think that someone will actually listen or be convinced. I value my relationships over satisfying the need to speak my mind.
Somehow, I've reached a point where I think that is going to change. Perhaps this year, I will either say something, or I will leave the conversation (if it's happening in a group) so as not to be drained. Especially because I know my schedule will be busier, and I want to "number my days," so to speak.
I understand that people like to congregate with others who think similarly in order to find camaraderie and feel supported. But when people stay in their comfort zones, they miss out on opportunities to be stretched and challenged. I always feel stifled when I constantly hang out with the same crowd.
It's taken nearly my entire time in California to get New Haven out of my system. Yesterday afternoon, on the ferry from Catalina Island back to the Coast, I finally felt like I had wiped the slate clean. Like I've said before, I had a wonderful first year and summer at Yale. I really could not have asked for a better experience! But the Old Wine has to be poured out before the New Wine can come. Not only that, but New Wine can only come in New Wineskins. I'm ready for this year to be completely different than last year!
At this point, I have no idea what my schedule will look like. I won't know what my classes will be until I "shop" around (this happens during the first two weeks of school.) I won't know how frequently and what days I will have meetings for Community Life Coordinator stuff. I don't know what evenings my church homegroup will meet, and I haven't decided if I'll play soccer again. What I do know is that I would like to commit to keeping a weekly Sabbath.
A good friend--we call him "kind-eyes Jonathan" at the Div School--modeled this for me last year. He took a day off each week to just be. To read non-academic stuff, go hiking, visit the Art Gallery...
I'm looking forward to keeping my Sabbath this year!
Monday, August 24, 2015
Thursday, August 20, 2015
R&R
The Central Coast of California will forever be engraved in my memory. Golden sun glinting from the blue ocean waves; fog gently shrouding the rolling hills of cattle and Live Oak trees; and the highway, wending itself through the undulating landscape that soothes the eye and frees the soul.
I've traveled along the Coast several times--as a child, with my whole family in our Volvo Stationwagon; as a college student, roadtripping from LA to NorCal with friends; and this past week, on vacation with my parents. On the Central Coast, life seems simpler, calmer, and more connected with land and sea. Residents have perpetual tans and sunburns, and bumper stickers indicate a more liberal bent. Restaurants welcome dogs, and otters, dolphins, seals, sea lions, and whales inhabit the waters beyond the beaches. Wildlife sightings made the drives worthwhile, and I will never forget seeing a Humpback Whale leap out of the water.
I would live here if I could, I often think to myself. Except I can't. There is too much to do in other places.
In exactly one week, I fly back to Connecticut, and I don't want to go.
California has been exactly what I needed. First, I had a week-long Staycation at home, hermiting as much as I could, working on a few New-Haven-related assignments, and keeping communication with friends minimal. I saw a friend with whom I've shared memorable hikes, including a long trek down Yosemite's Half Dome in the dark. I met up with an old high school buddy--he drove from his residency in LA to meet me locally--who knows me better than most people in my life. A wonderful spiritual sister, with whom I Skype regularly, came over to chat face-to-face in person, for once, and I came away as I always do with her--refreshed and encouraged. I had lunch with two friends who knew each other apart from knowing me. I met one in 8th grade and the other just a few years ago, but they went to high school together. That was fun.
Then, four days of Vacation with my folks.
This next week, I should start gearing up for the return to school. I've got plenty of friends to see in the coming days, averaging 2 appointments each day. My family--this time including my brother--will take another trip over the weekend. And I have got several things to prepare (mentally and practically) before next Thursday arrives. And then--Ready or not, here it comes!
I had a wonderful first year at Yale Divinity School, and I think that's why I don't want to return. I poured out every inch of myself to those around me, and I don't feel like I can do it again. It was a good run, I feel, and I'm ready to move on to other things.
I suppose one more year in school will give me direction on my future and continue to grow and shape my leadership skills. It's going to be challenging and busy, and that's what I fear. For now, I will enjoy the comforts of home for a few days more, knowing that even when I do enter my stressful schedule again, I can always return to the image of my beloved California Coast, and find refuge and rejuvenation from those memories.
I've traveled along the Coast several times--as a child, with my whole family in our Volvo Stationwagon; as a college student, roadtripping from LA to NorCal with friends; and this past week, on vacation with my parents. On the Central Coast, life seems simpler, calmer, and more connected with land and sea. Residents have perpetual tans and sunburns, and bumper stickers indicate a more liberal bent. Restaurants welcome dogs, and otters, dolphins, seals, sea lions, and whales inhabit the waters beyond the beaches. Wildlife sightings made the drives worthwhile, and I will never forget seeing a Humpback Whale leap out of the water.
I would live here if I could, I often think to myself. Except I can't. There is too much to do in other places.
In exactly one week, I fly back to Connecticut, and I don't want to go.
California has been exactly what I needed. First, I had a week-long Staycation at home, hermiting as much as I could, working on a few New-Haven-related assignments, and keeping communication with friends minimal. I saw a friend with whom I've shared memorable hikes, including a long trek down Yosemite's Half Dome in the dark. I met up with an old high school buddy--he drove from his residency in LA to meet me locally--who knows me better than most people in my life. A wonderful spiritual sister, with whom I Skype regularly, came over to chat face-to-face in person, for once, and I came away as I always do with her--refreshed and encouraged. I had lunch with two friends who knew each other apart from knowing me. I met one in 8th grade and the other just a few years ago, but they went to high school together. That was fun.
Then, four days of Vacation with my folks.
This next week, I should start gearing up for the return to school. I've got plenty of friends to see in the coming days, averaging 2 appointments each day. My family--this time including my brother--will take another trip over the weekend. And I have got several things to prepare (mentally and practically) before next Thursday arrives. And then--Ready or not, here it comes!
I had a wonderful first year at Yale Divinity School, and I think that's why I don't want to return. I poured out every inch of myself to those around me, and I don't feel like I can do it again. It was a good run, I feel, and I'm ready to move on to other things.
I suppose one more year in school will give me direction on my future and continue to grow and shape my leadership skills. It's going to be challenging and busy, and that's what I fear. For now, I will enjoy the comforts of home for a few days more, knowing that even when I do enter my stressful schedule again, I can always return to the image of my beloved California Coast, and find refuge and rejuvenation from those memories.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Reflection
I know a person who was asked to contribute her narrative to a Diversity Panel at at predominantly black-and-white, liberal seminary. This is what she wrote:
Growing up as an Asian born in America, I often felt unqualified to talk about race or discrimination—at least as it applied to me. Asians were seen as the “model minority,” which de-legitimized any complaints against white power, because “at least we weren’t black.” So whenever I witnessed micro-aggressions occur against my parents (who received graduate education in the U.S. but still have slight accents when speaking English), I tended to repress any feelings of negativity. When friends raised eyebrows over food I brought to school for lunch or commented on the smell, I always felt apologetic rather than proud of my culinary heritage. Knowing that immigrants were stereotyped as loud, tardy, and lacking self-awareness, I learned to be quiet, punctual, and very friendly-yet-self-conscious around white folks. My personal goal for the longest time was to become more acculturated than other Asian Americans.
And yet I held steadfastly to certain immigrant values. Like many of my Asian friends, I opted to living at home right out of college in order to cut rent costs and save up for the future. This was seen as “something that only losers do” among my white friends—at least in the years before the Wall Street crash. Now I can proudly say that because of lifestyle decisions, I have never had to take out a loan, and my living costs at YDS have come entirely from savings!
I have not been unaware of systemic racial discrimination against Asian Americans—my hometown is the site of a WWII Japanese Internment Camp, and I studied immigration policies against Asians in college—but I can’t say that I became passionate about making changes to the problems of race in America until I started nearing 30. After all, the vestiges of “Yellow Fever” in America made my position as an Asian female somewhat privileged in society, even if twistedly so, and I tended to fare much better than my male counterparts during social interactions with white folks. For example, I grew up watching my brother get bullied and called racial slurs because he was the only Asian kid on his sports team or in his friend group. I, on the other hand, was often complimented on my appearance, even if—or rather because—I looked different from my white female friends. I experienced a strangely flattering sort of “othering” that I only later—when feminist sensibilities took over—began repulse.
Many of my Asian-American female friends longed to marry white men, because that was a way to climb the social ladder—not to mention create “beautiful mixed children.” My Asian-American male friends complained that all the girls were “taken by white guys,” and any Asian male who could date a white girl was seen as competent and a victorious counter-narrative to the typical white-guy-Asian-girl pairing. A college dorm conversation is still seared in my memory: being a tomboy, I was hanging out with a (racially diverse) bunch of guy friends one day, and some of the Caucasians began to talk about how pretty Asian girls were and how they made racial diversity such a good thing. Some of the Asian guys then asked, “What are Asian guys good for?” The reply: “You give us Asian girls”—the only time I have ever heard of men being valued solely for their procreative powers!
Here at YDS, we like to emphasize the importance of not claiming to speak for one’s entire race or gender—we are individualistic to a fault. Out of respect for this social code, I’m not going to speak for all Asians in America, but I will end with two quotes from conversational interviews I’ve had with people of Asian descendent who live in America.
On cultural barriers to performing well in the classroom:
“Asians are trained to respect their elders and to be humble, so it’s very hard to speak on equal terms with a professor and to voluntarily share in class what we know. Even if we did all the reading and have many thoughts, we don’t share it because that feels like boasting.”
On feeling lost and unimportant within a black/white binary:
“It often feels unacceptable to talk about our experiences with race, because supposedly we have it so much better than other people of color in America. This means that Asian Americans perpetually don’t have a voice, and our opinions don’t matter.”
Well, given that Asians have been the fastest growing demographic in America since 2010 [1], I’d say that our opinions do matter, and that we had better start speaking up!
[1] See http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/06/26/u-s-hispanic-and-asian-populations-growing-but-for-different-reasons/.
Growing up as an Asian born in America, I often felt unqualified to talk about race or discrimination—at least as it applied to me. Asians were seen as the “model minority,” which de-legitimized any complaints against white power, because “at least we weren’t black.” So whenever I witnessed micro-aggressions occur against my parents (who received graduate education in the U.S. but still have slight accents when speaking English), I tended to repress any feelings of negativity. When friends raised eyebrows over food I brought to school for lunch or commented on the smell, I always felt apologetic rather than proud of my culinary heritage. Knowing that immigrants were stereotyped as loud, tardy, and lacking self-awareness, I learned to be quiet, punctual, and very friendly-yet-self-conscious around white folks. My personal goal for the longest time was to become more acculturated than other Asian Americans.
And yet I held steadfastly to certain immigrant values. Like many of my Asian friends, I opted to living at home right out of college in order to cut rent costs and save up for the future. This was seen as “something that only losers do” among my white friends—at least in the years before the Wall Street crash. Now I can proudly say that because of lifestyle decisions, I have never had to take out a loan, and my living costs at YDS have come entirely from savings!
I have not been unaware of systemic racial discrimination against Asian Americans—my hometown is the site of a WWII Japanese Internment Camp, and I studied immigration policies against Asians in college—but I can’t say that I became passionate about making changes to the problems of race in America until I started nearing 30. After all, the vestiges of “Yellow Fever” in America made my position as an Asian female somewhat privileged in society, even if twistedly so, and I tended to fare much better than my male counterparts during social interactions with white folks. For example, I grew up watching my brother get bullied and called racial slurs because he was the only Asian kid on his sports team or in his friend group. I, on the other hand, was often complimented on my appearance, even if—or rather because—I looked different from my white female friends. I experienced a strangely flattering sort of “othering” that I only later—when feminist sensibilities took over—began repulse.
Many of my Asian-American female friends longed to marry white men, because that was a way to climb the social ladder—not to mention create “beautiful mixed children.” My Asian-American male friends complained that all the girls were “taken by white guys,” and any Asian male who could date a white girl was seen as competent and a victorious counter-narrative to the typical white-guy-Asian-girl pairing. A college dorm conversation is still seared in my memory: being a tomboy, I was hanging out with a (racially diverse) bunch of guy friends one day, and some of the Caucasians began to talk about how pretty Asian girls were and how they made racial diversity such a good thing. Some of the Asian guys then asked, “What are Asian guys good for?” The reply: “You give us Asian girls”—the only time I have ever heard of men being valued solely for their procreative powers!
Here at YDS, we like to emphasize the importance of not claiming to speak for one’s entire race or gender—we are individualistic to a fault. Out of respect for this social code, I’m not going to speak for all Asians in America, but I will end with two quotes from conversational interviews I’ve had with people of Asian descendent who live in America.
On cultural barriers to performing well in the classroom:
“Asians are trained to respect their elders and to be humble, so it’s very hard to speak on equal terms with a professor and to voluntarily share in class what we know. Even if we did all the reading and have many thoughts, we don’t share it because that feels like boasting.”
On feeling lost and unimportant within a black/white binary:
“It often feels unacceptable to talk about our experiences with race, because supposedly we have it so much better than other people of color in America. This means that Asian Americans perpetually don’t have a voice, and our opinions don’t matter.”
Well, given that Asians have been the fastest growing demographic in America since 2010 [1], I’d say that our opinions do matter, and that we had better start speaking up!
[1] See http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/06/26/u-s-hispanic-and-asian-populations-growing-but-for-different-reasons/.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Recovery
My, am I exhausted!
I'm home now. Home to rest and recover before a busy Fall begins next month.
I don't feel like going back to school and taking classes again. I don't feel like seeing everyone again. I have been drained and need to recharge before I can be excited for Year Two at Yale Divinity School.
My fellowship ended well. It was sad to leave the Boys & Girls Club of New Haven.
Summer subletting also came to an end, and there was a party and some snacks and dancing at our house to send off our two housemates.
A very good friend visited from Kenya. I showed her as much of New Haven as I could, and over the weekend we ran ourselves ragged for 24 hours in New York City! The next day, I attended a Roaring 20s Lawn Party on a large estate in Ipswich, MA. And then my body protested over lack of sleep and got sick.
I took time to bond with my housemate (the one who didn't move out). We visited Mystic, CT, Newport, RI, and local West Haven beaches.
I had a wonderfully refreshing conversation with a sister with whom spiritual connection is strong.
The day before I flew home, I hung out and had lunch at the home of my home group leaders, whose children I teach violin.
Good things happened in New Haven, and that's probably why I'm exhausted.
I'm going into stealth mode for a few days in LA before letting friends know I'm back. Because then, there will be plenty of social engagements again, and that's what I need to refrain from for now. I need rest, and I need silence. I need to not be there for a job or a person, and I need to sleep.
Perhaps after I've recovered, I will be interested in people again, in things they have to say and things they are going through. But for now, may the world forget that I exist. May silence soothe my soul, and my sleep heal my body.
I'm home now. Home to rest and recover before a busy Fall begins next month.
I don't feel like going back to school and taking classes again. I don't feel like seeing everyone again. I have been drained and need to recharge before I can be excited for Year Two at Yale Divinity School.
My fellowship ended well. It was sad to leave the Boys & Girls Club of New Haven.
Summer subletting also came to an end, and there was a party and some snacks and dancing at our house to send off our two housemates.
A very good friend visited from Kenya. I showed her as much of New Haven as I could, and over the weekend we ran ourselves ragged for 24 hours in New York City! The next day, I attended a Roaring 20s Lawn Party on a large estate in Ipswich, MA. And then my body protested over lack of sleep and got sick.
I took time to bond with my housemate (the one who didn't move out). We visited Mystic, CT, Newport, RI, and local West Haven beaches.
I had a wonderfully refreshing conversation with a sister with whom spiritual connection is strong.
The day before I flew home, I hung out and had lunch at the home of my home group leaders, whose children I teach violin.
Good things happened in New Haven, and that's probably why I'm exhausted.
I'm going into stealth mode for a few days in LA before letting friends know I'm back. Because then, there will be plenty of social engagements again, and that's what I need to refrain from for now. I need rest, and I need silence. I need to not be there for a job or a person, and I need to sleep.
Perhaps after I've recovered, I will be interested in people again, in things they have to say and things they are going through. But for now, may the world forget that I exist. May silence soothe my soul, and my sleep heal my body.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Perspective
My, what difference a day makes!
Lord, thank you for the opportunity to stay home and recharge for most of yesterday. I did drive to New York to pick up friends from LaGuardia Airport, but that didn't happen until evening time. What a needed Saturday of staying in and refraining from social obligations!
My attitude has picked up tremendously since yesterday's blog post. Yesterday morning as I wrote, I was still reeling from a stressful week and an exhausting Friday. I knew I was grumbling a bit, but I couldn't stop myself from verbalizing pent-up feelings. With rest, gratitude has returned.
I did something nice for myself this evening. I bought a burger and fries from Shake Shack and had a little picnic in Edgerton Park, away from the people of New Haven and Bethesda. The fries even tasted healthy because they were so good for my soul.
Self-care is not normally a department in which I find myself lacking. But I've needed to give myself more of it lately, with a summer job turned stressful and a communal living situation to which I am still adjusting. Your mercy truly sustains me, Lord!
May I cease my striving this week and rest in Your provision. Your provision of energy, ability, efficiency, and focus. You lead me beside still waters...thou wilt keep in perfect peace her whose mind is staid on thee...
Lord, thank you for the opportunity to stay home and recharge for most of yesterday. I did drive to New York to pick up friends from LaGuardia Airport, but that didn't happen until evening time. What a needed Saturday of staying in and refraining from social obligations!
My attitude has picked up tremendously since yesterday's blog post. Yesterday morning as I wrote, I was still reeling from a stressful week and an exhausting Friday. I knew I was grumbling a bit, but I couldn't stop myself from verbalizing pent-up feelings. With rest, gratitude has returned.
I did something nice for myself this evening. I bought a burger and fries from Shake Shack and had a little picnic in Edgerton Park, away from the people of New Haven and Bethesda. The fries even tasted healthy because they were so good for my soul.
Self-care is not normally a department in which I find myself lacking. But I've needed to give myself more of it lately, with a summer job turned stressful and a communal living situation to which I am still adjusting. Your mercy truly sustains me, Lord!
May I cease my striving this week and rest in Your provision. Your provision of energy, ability, efficiency, and focus. You lead me beside still waters...thou wilt keep in perfect peace her whose mind is staid on thee...
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Prayers
Theology drains me sometimes. I know some friends who love organizing their thoughts about God and making (a little more) tangible things about Divine mysteries. It's as if verbalizing something gives it a claim to truth. And it does, in many ways.
Though I did very well in my Introduction to Theology class, I know that this particular way of academic and spiritual engagement is just not my thing. I much prefer to read people's thoughts spoken aloud to God, rather than their thoughts about God. I've always enjoyed reading people's descriptions of their interactions with God. Perhaps I shall take a course on Women Mystics this academic year.
Prayer involves speaking to God and listening to Him, and eavesdropping on others' prayers gives me a window into the things God is up to within humanity.
Here are snippets from some of mine this morning:
Lord, I have not had an entire day to myself in ages, it seems. What a luxury to be able to sleep in until I awaken naturally, with no piercing alarm to jumpstart me into a busy day! You speak to me in my waking moments, while I still lie on my bed. Oh, I could bask in that peace for the whole day, if human needs did not compel me to get up and use the restroom.
I go downstairs to make breakfast, relieved that the kitchen is empty. My housemate walks in from the other room to say good morning, and I am pleased. A little bit of human contact is always good, even if one is starting an Introvert Recharging Day.
A pot has been in the sink since 2 days ago. It's not my mess but I wash it anyway, hearing my irritation reflected in my quick sloshing of water. Lord, give me grace. I am so ungenerous sometimes.
It seems that people are always wanting something from me. Work, of course, is a given. But at least I'm being paid to do that. Then there are friends who want to get together. "We should hang out sometime....Let's go here and do that....Can we have a party?"
Perhaps it comes as a surprise to some that I don't actually always enjoy being with people. I love my own company best. Why, then, did I throw so many parties last semester? Why, now, have I taken on the role of Community Life Co-Coordinator at Yale Divinity School?
Lord, why do I do things that I know will challenge me? All I ever wanted since I was a child was a simple life and a nice family. And lots of personal space--you know this!
And yet, reflecting back on my journey thus far, there are also clear memories of the exact times that delineate my sense of calling and purpose and which call for me to engage with community.
Bridge. Multitude. Supernatural. Warrior.
These were words prayed over me by my church before I departed for New Haven.
And then last night.
I have given you the City of New Haven as territory.
What does that mean?
I've taken steps to get to know my city this summer. My goal was never to relax and have fun. You know this, Lord! Yesterday evening, I attended a spoken word and visual arts exhibit at ArtSpace. Incarcerated men and New Haven youth showcased their work. It was deeply moving.
If I'd had my way, I would have come home and hidden in my room to process all that I heard. Instead, I went and bought s'mores for a bonfire that was taking place in my back yard. A dear friend said it best: "It's challenging being an Introvert Host." I often have to hide from my own parties--bathroom breaks, walking people out to their cars and taking my time to come back...
I gather people together because I sense that it is a way to meet a need. Yale Divinity School is starving for true community, and if I can somehow help provide some of that by hosting parties where theology is discussed over beers and where sing-alongs are made possible by stellar guitar players in our midst, then it's my joy to do so. But I don't do it to satisfy my own need. It takes a full day for me to recover from every party I host.
Then there are things that recharge me. Solitary walks, blogging, and dancing, where the only interaction is physical and not verbal. Going to church to worship and receive prayer. That's where I meet you the most easily, Lord, safeguarded from my own distractions and wayward mind.
In this life, Introvert Heaven is found by shutting the room of my door or escaping humanity by going to nature. But in Heaven, there will be no sense of being drained, and my identity as an Introvert will be subsumed by a sense of community that is always only uplifting and life-giving. Oh, how I look forward to that day!
Though I did very well in my Introduction to Theology class, I know that this particular way of academic and spiritual engagement is just not my thing. I much prefer to read people's thoughts spoken aloud to God, rather than their thoughts about God. I've always enjoyed reading people's descriptions of their interactions with God. Perhaps I shall take a course on Women Mystics this academic year.
Prayer involves speaking to God and listening to Him, and eavesdropping on others' prayers gives me a window into the things God is up to within humanity.
Here are snippets from some of mine this morning:
Lord, I have not had an entire day to myself in ages, it seems. What a luxury to be able to sleep in until I awaken naturally, with no piercing alarm to jumpstart me into a busy day! You speak to me in my waking moments, while I still lie on my bed. Oh, I could bask in that peace for the whole day, if human needs did not compel me to get up and use the restroom.
I go downstairs to make breakfast, relieved that the kitchen is empty. My housemate walks in from the other room to say good morning, and I am pleased. A little bit of human contact is always good, even if one is starting an Introvert Recharging Day.
A pot has been in the sink since 2 days ago. It's not my mess but I wash it anyway, hearing my irritation reflected in my quick sloshing of water. Lord, give me grace. I am so ungenerous sometimes.
It seems that people are always wanting something from me. Work, of course, is a given. But at least I'm being paid to do that. Then there are friends who want to get together. "We should hang out sometime....Let's go here and do that....Can we have a party?"
Perhaps it comes as a surprise to some that I don't actually always enjoy being with people. I love my own company best. Why, then, did I throw so many parties last semester? Why, now, have I taken on the role of Community Life Co-Coordinator at Yale Divinity School?
Lord, why do I do things that I know will challenge me? All I ever wanted since I was a child was a simple life and a nice family. And lots of personal space--you know this!
And yet, reflecting back on my journey thus far, there are also clear memories of the exact times that delineate my sense of calling and purpose and which call for me to engage with community.
Bridge. Multitude. Supernatural. Warrior.
These were words prayed over me by my church before I departed for New Haven.
And then last night.
I have given you the City of New Haven as territory.
What does that mean?
I've taken steps to get to know my city this summer. My goal was never to relax and have fun. You know this, Lord! Yesterday evening, I attended a spoken word and visual arts exhibit at ArtSpace. Incarcerated men and New Haven youth showcased their work. It was deeply moving.
If I'd had my way, I would have come home and hidden in my room to process all that I heard. Instead, I went and bought s'mores for a bonfire that was taking place in my back yard. A dear friend said it best: "It's challenging being an Introvert Host." I often have to hide from my own parties--bathroom breaks, walking people out to their cars and taking my time to come back...
I gather people together because I sense that it is a way to meet a need. Yale Divinity School is starving for true community, and if I can somehow help provide some of that by hosting parties where theology is discussed over beers and where sing-alongs are made possible by stellar guitar players in our midst, then it's my joy to do so. But I don't do it to satisfy my own need. It takes a full day for me to recover from every party I host.
Then there are things that recharge me. Solitary walks, blogging, and dancing, where the only interaction is physical and not verbal. Going to church to worship and receive prayer. That's where I meet you the most easily, Lord, safeguarded from my own distractions and wayward mind.
In this life, Introvert Heaven is found by shutting the room of my door or escaping humanity by going to nature. But in Heaven, there will be no sense of being drained, and my identity as an Introvert will be subsumed by a sense of community that is always only uplifting and life-giving. Oh, how I look forward to that day!
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Random thoughts from Bethesda
I've moved into a beautiful apartment at Bethesda Lutheran Church, just down the street from the Divinity School Campus, where I used to live.
Living in community has been both challenging and a blessing, after having a two-bedroom apartment to myself for an entire six months.
My first night here, I bleached and scrubbed the bathtub. Rent is less, but it comes at the price of my independence. Community will be a good cure for the parts of me that like to be in control and to be left alone. And as much as I cherish personal space, it is nice to feel like I have a family with which to share life in New Haven. I now have housemates who care enough to call and text when I'm not home by 10:30 at night!
Bethesda was a pool in Jerusalem, believed to have healing powers. Invalids gathered around and hoped to be carried to the water when it stirred. Jesus healed a man at the pool, telling him to pick up his mat and walk--on a Sabbath day.
Religious life is a funny thing, and it's even more interesting when Jesus gets involved. Perhaps angels do stir the water from time to time, and perhaps we do need our friends to give us a lift towards forces that heal. Perhaps sometimes, too, we just get up and walk away from the place at which we stayed for so long.
Community is an important, beautiful thing. It's also where the rubber meets the road and where love takes form in concrete acts of giving and receiving. Done right, it can be a healing force for all involved.
I chose to come to this intentional community, and I look forward to living here this coming year. Come September, I'll also be a Community Life Co-Coordinator at the Divinity School, making "community" an official theme of the year I transition from my 20s to my 30s.
June gloom had me hermited away in my apartment, cherishing my last month of solitude and spending time completing 70 educational credits for my Music Therapy Recertification. July is come, and I am ready to connect with friends again, for doing life alone can only last so long. Already, conversations in the past week have been life-giving and inspiring.
I don't know Hebrew, but some translate Bethesda to say House of Mercy. May mercy abound in this house of mine--this house of ours--and may it become a home where community is found!
Living in community has been both challenging and a blessing, after having a two-bedroom apartment to myself for an entire six months.
My first night here, I bleached and scrubbed the bathtub. Rent is less, but it comes at the price of my independence. Community will be a good cure for the parts of me that like to be in control and to be left alone. And as much as I cherish personal space, it is nice to feel like I have a family with which to share life in New Haven. I now have housemates who care enough to call and text when I'm not home by 10:30 at night!
Bethesda was a pool in Jerusalem, believed to have healing powers. Invalids gathered around and hoped to be carried to the water when it stirred. Jesus healed a man at the pool, telling him to pick up his mat and walk--on a Sabbath day.
Religious life is a funny thing, and it's even more interesting when Jesus gets involved. Perhaps angels do stir the water from time to time, and perhaps we do need our friends to give us a lift towards forces that heal. Perhaps sometimes, too, we just get up and walk away from the place at which we stayed for so long.
Community is an important, beautiful thing. It's also where the rubber meets the road and where love takes form in concrete acts of giving and receiving. Done right, it can be a healing force for all involved.
I chose to come to this intentional community, and I look forward to living here this coming year. Come September, I'll also be a Community Life Co-Coordinator at the Divinity School, making "community" an official theme of the year I transition from my 20s to my 30s.
June gloom had me hermited away in my apartment, cherishing my last month of solitude and spending time completing 70 educational credits for my Music Therapy Recertification. July is come, and I am ready to connect with friends again, for doing life alone can only last so long. Already, conversations in the past week have been life-giving and inspiring.
I don't know Hebrew, but some translate Bethesda to say House of Mercy. May mercy abound in this house of mine--this house of ours--and may it become a home where community is found!
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