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...

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!

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!

Sunday morning thoughts

I have been gifted with the pleasant inability to recall exact details of liturgy.  Liturgy passes through my being even as I go through its stages.  It's a rather beautiful experience when you come away with a feeling of connectedness and awareness that analysis would only spoil.

And so I experienced the 10 o'clock service at St. Thomas's Episcopal Church this morning.  I won't bother to describe everything that went on, but the general impression I got was one of light, openness, and frankness.  The faces I saw were pleasant, and some were even familiar.

From the sermon, I took away one reminder: "we are all becoming."  What an apt reminder, as living and being in community sometimes stretches an introvert on multiple levels.  What a comforting thought, as my introspection often leads to discontent!

If I laid out before you all my thoughts, you would see that they often conflict and contradict.  I correct and overcorrect my own thinking patterns, and feelings become interwoven into the picture like threads on a loom.  I've learned by now to accept and hold those feelings, releasing them into appropriate outlets when given the opportunity, but that doesn't mean that they aren't taxing.

Our service this morning ended with a blessing:  "and may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus our Lord."

What a familiar verse this is, one that accompanied me throughout college--but which I've lately neglected to remember.  I need the peace of God that surpasses all understanding.  Some times of life feel more jumbled than others, and my latest transitions have pointed me to my need for even more trust and acceptance of the future and others.

On my walk back from church, a few bright flowers startled me into joy.  Beauty does wonders for the soul, and in my recent days filled with dusty office and home spaces, learning about and working with families in poverty, and experiencing the culture dying in the medical field, one pop of color in a neighborhood of beautiful homes and green foliage somehow put a pause to the silent jumble within.

We are in the process of becoming....as individuals, churches, neighborhoods, and communities.  New Haven is the only city in America with a decreasing crime rate, I heard the other day.  We are all becoming.

In the meantime, may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard us, both emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

Saturday Evening in New Haven

This evening, I attended a showcase of the 2015 Dwight/Edgewood Project, "a joint community outreach program of Yale Repertory Theater and Yale School of Drama" in which middle schoolers participate in a four-week after-school playwriting program.  I went to support one of my friends from my summer fellowship who was part of the project and enjoyed seeing performances of young playwright's scripts.

Afterwards, my friend (another fellow who attended the performance) and I walked over to the New Haven Green, where Kurt Elling was performing with the New Haven Symphony Orchestra.  It was raining, and my shoes and jacket were soaked.  I normally hate being out in the rain, but something about the jazz vocal performance made the weather seem rather romantic.  As the performance concluded, I overheard a lady say she couldn't wait to hop into a hot shower as soon as she got home.

As I made my way back to where I'd parked my car, I passed by the corner of First and Summerfield, where my church is located.  A ring of people stood under the porch, and I recognized familiar faces, immediately realizing that this must be a prayer meeting for the recent shootings in South Carolina. I joined the circle, grateful for this chance encounter and an opportunity to pray with my spiritual community.  The meeting ended with us holding hands and singing "We shall overcome."

My body was wet, but the chill did not seep into my bones.  Eventually, I reached my car and made it back home, kicking off my shoes and heading straight into the shower.  A cup of hot chocolate followed, and then, I sat down to do some blogging...

From One Hill to Another

I spent the early part of Friday morning reading on a park bench in Trowbridge Square, in a neighborhood of New Haven known as "The Hill."  Right across the street, my car was getting a check-up at SKF Auto.  And a few blocks over was the Boys&Girls Club, where I work this summer.

In my hands was a book about the history of religious learning at Yale.  Flying onto my face and hands were little green insects--harmless but annoying.  Surrounding the square was a residential neighborhood, and every now and then people crossed through the square.

A couple occupied a nearby bench, talking and squabbling as couples do.  As they left, four men speaking Spanish entered the square, carrying plastic bags filled with recyclables.  They smiled at me and plugged in their cell phones to an outlet in a lamppost, blasting music into the morning air.  As they eventually got up and left, three young women came and occupied another bench, and I overheard one of them talk about her child recently getting adopted by a foster family.  A man walked across the square several times, checking on his laundry in the corner laundromat.

I drive through the various neighborhoods of New Haven from time to time, always with my car doors locked, out of habit.  I learned to do this as an undergraduate at USC in downtown Los Angeles, and as a woman in general.  Sitting in Trowbridge Square, however, I was completely out in the open--although I did have pepper spray in my backpack.  I have to admit that it took me a little while before I became more comfortable in my surroundings.  Gradually, I realized that I was a guest in a neighborhood.  Perhaps some of the kids at the Boys&Girls Club lived here.  There was nothing to be nervous about.  This was an opportunity to listen and observe.

According to Wikipedia,

The Hill neighborhood contains the majority of buildings of Yale-New Haven Hospital and Yale Medical School. The expansion of this Medical campus area is a continual source of tension with the bordering residential areas. The residential areas of the Hill are mostly working-class and minority neighborhoods; crime and poverty remain problems, though to a far lesser degree.

The Hill is also home to New Haven's railroad station, Union Station, and some light-industrial businesses such as the Lupi-Legna Bakery. Public schools and libraries include; Roberto Clemente Leadership Academy and the Wilson Library.

Our church has been encouraging us to get to know New Haven's neighborhoods by spending time in each one.  Each Sunday, we spend time praying corporately for the peace of the city.  I love that the Elm City Vineyard is committed to being both a prayerful and a participatory part of the community, and I'm sure that this has influenced my mindset for the good.  On top of that, my summer fellowship is designed to introduce Yale students to the City.  We've learned about its history, some of its neighborhoods, and the work that is going on in its various communities.

There is something special about being around people close to where they live.  I realized this when I worked at a residential treatment campus for teens in Pennsylvania and when I worked in low-income housing in California.  Those settings may not have been home for my clients, but it was where they lived.  There is something to be said about observing people in residential settings--I rather enjoy it.

We call the Divinity School area "The Hill" as well, and it occurred to me that I'm spending my summer days going from one Hill to another.  Sitting on that bench in Trowbridge Square, I thought about how I still have much to learn about what it means to be truly invested in one's city.  I began to pray for the surrounding neighborhood, and to ask for more of an understanding of God's heart for the city of New haven.

James 2:14-26 Revised Standard Version (RSV)

Faith without Works Is Dead
14 What does it profit, my brethren, if a man says he has faith but has not works? Can his faith save him? 15 If a brother or sister is ill-clad and in lack of daily food, 16 and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what does it profit? 17 So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.

18 But some one will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. 19 You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder. 20 Do you want to be shown, you shallow man, that faith apart from works is barren? 21 Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar? 22 You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by works, 23 and the scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness”; and he was called the friend of God. 24 You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone. 25 And in the same way was not also Rahab the harlot justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out another way? 26 For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so faith apart from works is dead.

Solitary Adventures

Few things bring me greater pleasure than a solitary adventure.

Summer evenings in New Haven lend themselves to many fine walks--up East Rock, over to Edgerton Park, and along Mill River.  Tonight, there was an after-rain mist, thick enough to make the houses along St. Ronan Street look like paintings.  I felt as if I were walking through a Thomas Kinkade gallery come to life--or if I had jumped through chalk drawings like Mary Poppins and Jane and Michael.

The one thing thing that reminded me that I was not in a dream was the presence of pesky mosquitoes.  That, and the wide smile on my face as I reveled in the quietness of my own company and the peace of an evening sunset.  My facial muscles almost hurt from how hard I was smiling.

Work had been quite busy and productive.  After work, there was a dinner put on by my Summer Fellowship to which all Presidential Fellows and their supervisors were invited.  I got to chat more with my supervisor and to see other leaders in New Haven's non-profit community.  What a cool opportunity to be a part of community-building in a city that I love.

Since 2009 I have not lived in one place for more than 2 years, but that only means that I have people and places that I keep in touch with and visit.  Compared to some of my peers I have not traveled widely, but I have had the pleasure of living in places that I can truly call home.  Perhaps I was meant to experience my 20s like this--moving somewhere by myself, building community, and--as I was reminded of tonight--taking long walks full of joy, imagination, and reflection.

Long drives alone suit me too.  I still remember making a 7-hour drive from Womelsdorf, Pennsylvania to Akron, Ohio about 6 years ago, passing through green countryside that was on its way to autumn. When I lived in the Bay Area, I'd sometimes drive across the San Mateo Bridge at night, just for fun. And I'll never forget the time I drove from SoCal to NorCal, with my belongings in my car and the next step of my future seeming to extend just beyond the I-5 freeway.

Who knows how long I will call New Haven home.  Being halfway through my degree brings me thoughts and questions of my future calling and career.  I can see myself staying here for a while, continuing to involve myself in my church and staying somewhat attached to the Divinity School community.  I appreciate the challenges and strengths of this small city, and my heart thinks often about the various neighborhoods of which it is comprised.

Yale can be a bubble, but it is not a bubble in which I am happy to remain.  Even during the school year, my heart longed to go beyond its Ivy-covered boundaries.  For while I am grateful to be at my Dream School, it is the City that houses it that makes this place home to me.  New Haven, I loved you from the start, and I can only hope that my time here is beneficial for the both of us.