It's been a long while

It's been some time since I blogged over hear. You should follow me over at lighttheflame. I post over there with much more frequency and will keep you entertained.

And the day came when the risk 

to remain tight in a bud was more painful 

than the risk it took to blossom.

- Anaïs Nin

words to live by

the one year itch

A friend called me last weekend and said "I'm restless." I knew exactly what she meant. I was driving home on a Saturday evening from a home visit and a long day of work. Restless. Knowing that something needs to change, but not being able to figure out what it is.

I'm no stranger to this feeling. It's taken me from my family home to MN to the Villa. And, now, it's back. I thought I was finished with the one year plan. One year in MN. One year at the Villa. March is usually the month when I begin looking for a new job, a new program. But, this year, I'm settling into a normal life. My life isn't dictated by the end of a program in July. Even so, I still find myself quickly looking up things that will change my "current life." Quickly as in "if I don't look at this webpage for a long time, then nothing will need to change." I tell everyone that I don't want to uproot myself for at least a year because I'm tired of living my life in one year increments, but I feel like it's time to change something up. I don't know what that will be. I don't want to change jobs. I don't want to change living arrangements.

But, I feel the need for change. I feel like I am somehow settling and I don't like that feeling. I don't know what I am settling with or if I'm settling with everything...or nothing at all.

just one weekend

There is a Beautiful Creature

Living in a hole you have dug.

So at night

I set fruit and grains

And little pots of wine and milk

Beside your soft earthen mounds,

And I often sing.

But still, my dear,

You do not come out.

I have fallen in love with Someone

Who hides inside you.

We should talk about this problem---

Otherwise,

I will never leave you alone.

-Hafiz

I first came across this poem about 1 year ago. I boxed & starred it and filed it away in my neatly organized binder. Last Friday, while reflecting on the past year, I came across it and felt like it was written just for me. It perfectly describes my life right now and the running that I tend to do. Something tells me that I should tape this somewhere where I can read it every morning.

The long weekend was a homecoming and a reunion of sorts. It was a time to relax, take brisk walks for the few minutes that I could brave the temperatures, visit the farm, catch up with people I love, & visit my heart.

welcome home.

oh hey.

sharing a little love

This brown bag probably doesn't look like anything special. On Monday morning, I packed up my bags and headed back to work. One of the sisters insisted on backing me a brown bagged lunch complete with a sandwich, fruit, chips, & 1/2 a doughnut. It made my heart happy. Had it been up to me, I would have probably skipped lunch.

here we go?

[source]

bread making

During my year in MN, I lived with a sister who baked bread. I looked forward to the days when I walked in the door and could smell fresh bread. Near the end of my time there, she taught me how to bake it and gave me a copy of her recipe. It was the first time that I knew someone who took the time to make bread. Heck, it was the first time that I knew/lived with people who canned food & only the second time I lived with someone who made meals from scratch.

ingredients : step one 

Last weekend, my SD reminded me that I need to remember to take time for myself. I scoffed at her and said something along the lines of, "but I do." Nevertheless, I promised her that I would take some time for myself on Monday. As I was falling asleep last night, I thought about this bread. I had asked another volunteer for the recipe last week (after losing my copy). All I would need to do was run to the West Side Market for cracked wheat and honey.

It was the perfect "time for myself" activity. I cleaned the kitchen so I could start out with a clean slate and laid out the ingredients. I followed the directions and strayed a bit when I knew that it needed something else.

ready for the oven

I waited in anticipation for the loaves to finish baking. They weren't my best, but still delicious.

It was the perfect chunk of time to take for myself - to relax and regroup. Work takes a lot out of me and quiet time is the last thing I want to do when I get home at night. I'll sit on the couch and say, "I should go to my room early & journal," but I rarely do it. Yet, I feel like I'm reaching my breaking point - like I desperately need to take this time even if I feel guilty about not doing something else.

Spending the time baking bread was a good reminder that I don't need to feel guilty about taking time for me. I need to do it for my sanity, for clarity, and for discernment. I think I can manage it. (Although, I don't think I have in the past week). It's a work in progress.

finished product

2013 - bring it on.

I have a feeling that 2013 is going to be a big year filled with growth and changes.

How do I know this? The other day, I flipped through old journals from 2-3 years ago. I wrote them before I gave in to what I wanted and left my stable job to move to MN for a yearlong volunteer program. I hardly recognized that person. I didn't think I was afraid of anything, but I now realize that I was afraid of the power of my own thoughts. I've always known that I wanted to work "with people" (a life of service), but I was afraid to take the initial leap to do that. in 2010, I took that leap and look where I am now. Two years of volunteer service later and I'm working in refugee resettlement.

I know that this is going to be an amazing year because I know how much I've changed in the last 2-3 years. In MN, I began to change as I was finally out of the area and grasp of my family. I was finally living my own life. I haven't looked back since. Last year (or, rather the end of 2011), I took the leap and moved to the Villa where I worked on a farm (!), with retired sisters, and at a Catholic worker. I learned about spirituality and prayer and, holy crap did I grow. At one point, I wondered out loud, "When did I become this person?" For the record, I don't know the answer to that.

I see the changes when I go back to my family's house and become anxious at that lifestyle. It's not how I live anymore and, while it's nice to visit, it's not what I want for myself. I see the changes when I explain my job or why I'm involved in anti-human trafficking campaigns or Young Adult involvement in the Catholic Church. I see the changes when I try to return to the person that I was and I can't.

I know who I am now. I know what I want and how I want to live my life. 2013 will be a good year because I will keep learning, leaning into who I've become, and going where I know that I'm heading.

home on the farm

Villa farm

This morning, I headed out to the Villa for one last Christmas celebration where I was greeted with Christmas hugs and kisses. Only some knew that I would be there so it was great to surprise the others. We sat around the table after breakfast drinking coffee and sharing stories about sled-riding, ice skating, and snow.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take some snow pictures (even though I left my good camera at home). Cleveland is pretty, but nothing beats the Villa. All was quiet on the farm except for a flock of pigeons on the barn roof that scattered just as I took their picture.

I never thought that I would be a person who would feel at home on a farm. I'm a city (or close to it) girl. The only flowers my family ever grew were dandelions. I didn't know what vegetables were in season and when because Giant Eagle stocks the same vegetables all year long. (Never mind that the only vegetables ever served in my family's house are corn and potatoes). I remember feeling bad for my friends who lived "in the country" -- a whole 10 minutes from the mall. I figured that their life must be boring.

Now, after spending a year out in the country and 4 months working on a farm, I can see myself living in the country with cows as my neighbors. My home is now in the city and I love the close proximity to people and places, but I count the days until I can retreat to the quiet of the country.

Out to the woods and sheep barn

living community

Uzbek bread, raisins, cashews, & almonds

A few weeks ago, I sat down to an impromptu meal with an Uzbek family. Impromptu for me, but they had long planned to feed me dinner after I told them I'd be over at the end of the work day. Upon arriving, I was greeted at the door by the children, who welcomed me into their home like I was a long lost relative. I helped with homework, learned about Uzbekistan, listened to and shared family stories, and laughed. At one point during the meal, the father said, "When you eat bread together, you are family." His words have stuck with me for weeks now.

Sitting down for a meal together is something so simple that we often overlook it. How often do we grab dinner on the run? I've lived in intentional communities for 4 years now (college, FCV, JOY, and here). In each location, dinner time has been a sacred pause in our day. Some days, we cook and eat together sharing stories and rants about the day. It's a time to unwind, to check in with each other, and to laugh. As the father said, it's a time to build family (community) bonds.

A good fried from high school is moving in with us next week. Last night, I tried to explain this concept to her. How could I put this concept into words for someone who has never lived in community - or with roommates - before? I talked about sharing household expenses and tasks, cooking together, and setting aside time to spend with one another. I couldn't explain it clearly so I told her that she just needs to experience living it. Join us and our friends as we pile in our living room to watch the West Wing or go Christmas caroling through the neighborhood. Join us for coffee in the morning while we watch reruns. Join us for Mass or frisbee at the Lake when it's warm. Invite others over for dinner (or Saturday lunch) when we cook something delicious out of the same basic ingredients that we buy every week at the West Side market.

This morning, I was still trying to figure out a way to best describe my life when the Uzbek father stopped in my office to share some news. "When are you coming for dinner. My sons want to see their sister." I told him soon. Maybe I can take them around with me to explain family and community.

He hasn't answered yet.

Today is the 32nd anniversary of the deaths of Sr. Ita Ford, Sr. Maura Clarke, Sr. Dorothy Kazel, and Jean Donavon. They are the four American Churchwomen who were killed in El Salvador on Dec. 2, 1980.

[source]

"I'm 26 years old. I should be married. I shouldn't be running around doing all of these things. But then I think, I've got so many things I want to do. It's hard when I see my friends getting married and having babies, that's something I've thought about...am I ever going to have kids? Sometimes I wonder if I'm denying that to myself. I really don't want to, but that's maybe what I'm doing. And then I sit there and talk to God and say, why are you doing this to me? Why can't I just be your little suburban housewife? He hasn't answered yet. Sometimes I get mad at God. Sometimes I tell God I'm going to chuck the whole thing, that I've had it." 
- Jean Donovan

My life exactly. Or, at the very least, exactly how I feel. Right now, I so resonate with the struggle Jean Donovan mentioned. I'm 26 years old and, as always, struggling between what I want and what I feel I should be doing. "Can't I be normal?" I'm frequently asking this. A slight shake of the head of a push in the opposite direction is the only answer (or non-answer) that I get. As my friends marry, I wonder "Will I have that?" or "Should I want to have that more?" I don't know the answer.

My grandma told someone that I flitted around like Hillary Clinton. No one knows what she meant, but I think she wanted me to put down some strings -- no more moving from state to state for volunteer programs. I can't stay still--there are too many things that I want to do. I can't imagine myself tied down to a family and home. I'd feel suffocated...limited. Despite this knowledge, I still wonder if that's what I should be doing.

(Here are some great reflections about the American Churchwomen: Wandering in Wonder, FaithJustice, and Share-El Salvador).

speaking to me.

“Following your bliss is not self-indulgent, but vital; your whole physical system knows that this is the way to be alive in this world and the way to give to the world the very best that you have to offer. There IS a track just waiting for each of us and once on it, doors will open that were not open before and would not open for anyone else.”
—Joseph Campbell

a rant directed at those who jumble all the holidays together

Dear Lifetime, Hallmark Channel, Target, Best Buy, & any other business who feels the need to play Christmas movies/music already,

Last time I looked at the calendar, it was November 10. Last time I checked, Christmas fell on December 25th. Why do you feel the need to play Christmas music and/or create obnoxious Christmas displays this early in November?

I'm one of those people who refuses to listen to Christmas music until December. I've got Thanksgiving and Advent still to come. I grew up in a family who didn't decorate a tree or display many Christmas decorations until the week before Christmas. We like to celebrate each one of our holidays on its own. Thanksgiving isn't Christmas. Thanksgiving is the day for my family to come together, give thanks for one another, remember those who are no longer with us, share a meal, and laugh together. One month later, we will gather to celebrate Christmas.

I complain when you don't give your employees Thanksgiving day off and when Black Friday turns into a day of utter mayhem. Christmas displays and music this early in November makes me want to boycott your store or tv channel. Give it a rest and remember that there are other holidays and that not everyone wants the Christmas spirit thrown in his/her face all year long.

Sincerely,
a disgruntled person.

photo walk and life

The back part of our driveway (where we park) has an interesting old brick wall lined with leaves and some ivy. On Sunday, the leaves had finally changed and were the perfect colors for a picture.

A couple weeks ago, I had a day off and decided to wander around the Tremont area of Cleveland for a picture walk, some coffee with a friend, and quiet time. I was still actively taking part in the photo challenge over at fatmumslim. I think the challenge for that day was "angles." Tremont, much like Ohio City, is such a photogenic neighborhood.

now closed. I love the play of light and dark in this picture.

Things at work have finally picked up leaving me with not much time to breathe during the day. I'm running around getting the hang of things in this area. Confirmations and reminders as to why I am in the refugee resettlement field. Days are usually long and frequently stressful, but I get to meet interesting people.

On Sunday afternoon, I sat in a waiting room while my car got a tune up. The other lady there struck up a conversation with me over the Browns game and the book I had brought in with me. (Merton, Seven Story Mountain). I learned her life story, listened to her missed dreams, talked about refugees, the Peace Corps, Catholicism, and so many other things. The mechanic let us know that our cars were finished, but we stayed talking & screaming at the TV. At the end of the 2nd quarter, we shook hands and God blessed each other before returning to our respective lives.

happy reunions

Happy reunions at the airport are my favorite part of my job. Today, I got to take part in one.



Harvest and Homecoming: New Roots in the Bronx from International Rescue Committee on Vimeo.

They always remind me of Love Actually and the happy reunions at the arrival gate of London's Heathrow Airport.

the embrace of home

Autumn is my favorite season. I love the smell of it, the changing leaves, the everything. This weekend, I headed home for some time with friends & family. Sunday morning brought Mass at St. Pat's with the Nuns on the Bus Ohio crew. It was exactly what I needed.
 

walking the trail

my favorite trees

This tree turns the most fabulous shade of fiery orange.

The Nuns on the Bus Ohio stopped in Youngstown yesterday for a rally at MYCAP and, then, spent the morning at St. Patrick's celebrating Mass.

merging worlds

I've completed training and 3 weeks at my new job with a refugee resettlement organization. I know that refugee work is where I belong and I'm ready to really dive into my job. I've spent the past couple weeks learning more about the refugee population with which I will be working. My only experience is with the Somali and Iraqi communities. Now, I am working with the Burmese, Karen, Nepalis (Bhutanese), Uzbeks, and Iraqis. I've enjoyed a Friday afternoon Michael Jackson dance party with a couple 3 year old kids in my office while they waited for their parents to finish an ESOL class. I've set up apartments and used charades in an attempt to determine what someone wanted. After about 2 months of not working, I'm slowly becoming the workaholic that I always am.

Lately, I've been more aware of the many ways my life is changing and merging. I don't have just one place that I call home. I have a couple places that I can go and say that "I'm home." My challenge is merging each of those worlds and finding out exactly what I want to do. I've been acutely aware of this over the course of this weekend as I traveled from one home to the other and shared laughter and hugs with all the people I love.  

I'm participating in the October photo a day challenge over at fat mum slim. Here's a selection of pictures from the last week.

Day 1: where you stood

day 3: this happened today

day 4: what you read

day 6: I'm thankful for...

Hey! I know her!

Tonight, I'm thinking about the Somali refugees with whom I worked in Minnesota. I started a new job yesterday working with Burmese, Karen, & Bhutanese refugees. I can't help but think about the crazy first weeks in Minnesota - hitting the ground running, learning the city with the refugees, getting lost on the bus, learning about the medical field and refugee camps and the Somali culture, etc. I came across this publication from the MN Literacy Council. Go to page 80 and read the story submitted by Anab. She was one of the first refugees I worked with and became a good friend. She's someone that I miss.

all in a year or two

 

 

 

 

written in June 2008 - not long after I graduated from WC

I spent a good part of college worrying that I was going to miss my calling. The term "calling" was new to me. My Presbyterian friends talked about calling and predestination and wondered why I didn't know my calling. Sure, I went into college thinking that I was going to teach high school English. I toyed with the idea of going into Teach for America. By the time I began my sophomore year, I had a sicking feeling that I didn't want to teach. Nonetheless, I completed the mandatory 2 week field experience over Winter Break. I hated it. I finally found the courage to drop secondary education and eventually broke the news to my family.

I spent the rest of college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I tried journalism and wrote for the school paper. That was ok, but not how I wanted to spend my life. When people asked me what I wanted to do, I could only say, "I want to work with people." I carried that with me as I found a job working in a development office. (Not a fan of the work, but I loved where I was working). Somewhere, I found the courage that I wanted and took off for a year long volunteer program in Minnesota. I spent the year living in community and working with a refugee resettlement program. I found a job that I loved.

I took off for Minnesota on August 21, 2010, and I haven't looked back. A year ago, I began a year of learning and working on a farm and at a Catholic Worker House. I traveled into the complete unknown world of farm work for four months and relished the time I spent working outdoors. As the program ended, I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to head. In July, I packed up and moved to Cleveland without a clear plan. In a week, I'll start a position with a refugee resettlement agency. I'll be going back to a field that I love. I wish I could tell my recently graduated self to trust her instincts, be ok with doing something different, and not to stress out so much.

new beginnings or just a continuation

After 2 years, I've left the world of volunteering. It was a sad day when I moved to my family's house for 2 weeks in mid August. I then moved to Cleveland to live in community with 2 former volunteers. I'm searching for a job...and am hopefully close to securing one.

Their pairs have been lost in the move.

Living in Cleveland has been a plan for a while. I thought I would end up here last year, but decided to go for the second year of volunteering. It's right now to be up here. I love the area that I'm living in and the community that I'm starting to build. I'm realizing or reaffirming that I am made for community living. It's right for me. I don't know how long I'm going to be up here or where my next step is, but I'm ready to find out.

Coffee on our balcony. I think this is my first morning in the apartment.

Sunset over Lake Erie. Definitely the best part of living here.

Living on Lake Erie is great. I love the sunsets and afternoon frisbee games in the park. Moving here, I left the farmland...the cows, long walking trails through the woods, and some of my favorite people in the world. It's been an adjustment, but I still know that I have a home back there.

It's an adjustment because I miss this place every day.