It's 12:41 pm on a blindingly sunny day in San Antonio, and I'm sitting in a Starbucks with enough free time to finally update this blog.
Five days ago at this time, I was in the sweltering humidity of Chicago, packing my bags for a 7-week trip down to Texas.
Six days before that, I was finishing my last final exam for the Spring semester, which I finished 4 hours before the midnight deadline (further proof that procrastination just won't stop rewarding me).
Life doesn't slow slow down much, does it? It may change gears a little, but it refuses to be static or stationary. Also, my nomadic tendencies - which I sometimes wondered might be a phase - don't seem to be going anywhere either. I've lived four whole months in Chicago, which was broken up by a trip to Newark for my best friend's wedding in March, and I was already itching to go somewhere else by early May.
So here I am in the Republic of Texas until early July. While nannying for my cousin, who's the greatest 8-year old you'll ever meet, I'm taking a couple of online business classes for my Nonprofit Administration degree. This clearly won't be a restful, laid-back break from life by any means, but I do have time to look back at my first semester at Jesus school and business school in Chicago and try to make some sense of it all.
As I've said before, my overall experience at North Park and in Chicago has been great so far. Fantastic people, interesting coursework, incredible city, good university. Looking a little deeper into it all, here are the top 3 things about my life as a Seminary student in Chicago so far:
1). Jesus school students are fun. No, seriously!
Before I came to North Park, I had some huge reservations about the people I'd be encountering at Seminary. I was a little paranoid that every discussion, even at parties (heck, I wasn't even sure they had parties) was going to end in some heavy theological debate, in which case I would've had to make up a lot of excuses to duck out of conversations...
The truth is, most of the students at Seminary are a lot of fun. Something I didn't consider before is that most people going into ministry are super relational and creative. That combination = fun. Also, they all genuinely care about people and do their best to treat them well, so there's less drama and ridiculousness (of the bad sort) than you'd find among other communities of young adults.
This community is far from perfect, but the people here are pretty wonderful and take every chance they can get to hang out and enjoy life...no theological debate required.
2). Chicago's weather rocks. Well, at least since I've been there.
I moved to Chicago in January, expecting to hate and avoid the outdoors for the next two months, as wind chills dipped below zero and snow flew by the windows horizontally.
But that didn't exactly happen. We had a mild winter, followed by an unseasonably warm spring. During my spring break in mid-March, it was sunny and in the high-70s nearly every day. April was a little closer to its average temperature, but May brought us back to feeling like it was early summertime. It was starting to heat up when I left on Monday, and I've heard summer are brutally hot and humid.. but hey, maybe we'll keep getting lucky for a while.
All I know is that the last week before I left, my friends and I played outside on the campus greenspace, went to the beach, and started building our summer tans. I haven't had a reason to complain, so I'll naively believe the weather will continue its brush with perfection into the summer.
3). College is so much better the second time around.
Ok, so this is not undergrad, part 2 (which I'm personally thankful for). My time at Allegheny was great and all, but life in undergrad is not exactly a healthy or sustainable lifestyle. I'm frankly shocked some people I know survived their four years of undergrad. No one sleeps enough, most people gain (and then add onto) their Freshman 15, some destroy their livers, and the undergrad education doesn't usually prepare people to succeed in real life. It prepares you for more school, if anything.
Grad school is different, in such good ways. [One exception: acquiring more school loans is a terrible feeling, especially when you work for a couple years after undergrad and get used to making money.) I know my grad school experience is not the typical one, since I'm in a dual degree program uniting a Seminary and business school, all while living on campus.However, grad school classes challenge students to think critically, apply what they learn, and encourages them to get out of the classroom and learn through experience. It's easy for most people to float through undergrad without ever learning anything beyond theory and nice ideas. Grad school wants you to go out, get your hands a little dirty and make mistakes so you can learn how things really work in the world. Theory finally meets practice, and your head knowledge travels down to your heart, your hands, and your feet.
That's enough reflecting for the day. I hope this gives you a little window into what I'm learning at North Park so far. A lot of what is teaching me, changing me, and challenging me hasn't been in the classroom. School is great, and being a student suits me well, but what I'm really excited about is the life beyond my classes. My studies are giving me the knowledge I'll need, but everything else is shaping how I'll use that knowledge to bring about change on this crazy, spinning planet.
4.25.2012
practical dreaming about changing the world
One of my classes this semester is 'Mobilizing for Justice', where we discuss many of the injustices that exist in the world today (not all of them...there's not enough time for that). We talk about the brokenness in the economic, political, social, and even religious systems that exist today. Sounds like a depressing class, doesn't it?
But we also look at how we can transform the world. Yes, we take a close look at the twisted, sick, toxic, unjust aspects of our current reality, but we do not (and cannot) stop there. We start envisioning how those problems and issues can be attacked and rooted out. We study and discuss how transformation has already occurred. We talk about why, as Christians, we need to care about these things. In a society that feeds us these mistruths/deceptions: everyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, that goodness, hard work, and virtue will surely result in personal wealth, that charity is always enabling, that sharing resources is communism (heaven forbid), that poor people are poor because they're lazy, that racism has disappeared and has nothing to do with economic inequality today.....we need to take a good hard look at injustices in our society and figure out how to tear them down.
I recently read a book for this class titled Building a People of Power, by Robert Linthicum (2005) and wrote a brief reflection on it. I wanted to share part of that writing here, as the book's theme of empowering people to bring about change struck a deep chord within me. Here's a little of what I wrote:
But we also look at how we can transform the world. Yes, we take a close look at the twisted, sick, toxic, unjust aspects of our current reality, but we do not (and cannot) stop there. We start envisioning how those problems and issues can be attacked and rooted out. We study and discuss how transformation has already occurred. We talk about why, as Christians, we need to care about these things. In a society that feeds us these mistruths/deceptions: everyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, that goodness, hard work, and virtue will surely result in personal wealth, that charity is always enabling, that sharing resources is communism (heaven forbid), that poor people are poor because they're lazy, that racism has disappeared and has nothing to do with economic inequality today.....we need to take a good hard look at injustices in our society and figure out how to tear them down.
I recently read a book for this class titled Building a People of Power, by Robert Linthicum (2005) and wrote a brief reflection on it. I wanted to share part of that writing here, as the book's theme of empowering people to bring about change struck a deep chord within me. Here's a little of what I wrote:
In a world where it often seems that most of the power is
held in the tight fists of the elite, Robert Linthicum’s book is a timely
reminder that it does not need to stay that way. His book was written for the
church as a praxis manual in which theory – explaining the biblical understanding
of power and why we must wield it to bring about the shalom of our communities and cities – meets practice – demonstrating
how this can be accomplished through various methods. His central thesis is
that in order to truly transform communities into the kingdom-inspired shalom
communities that God intended, the church must seek to empower and walk
alongside the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized of society.
The concept from Linthicum’s book that stuck with me the
most was his Iron Rule and how this plays into his vision for building up
powerful people. The Iron Rule states, “never do for others what they can do
for themselves,” and it is a key concept for any type of community organizing
(regardless of if they use the “Iron Rule” name for the concept). Community
organizers understand that in order for a community to be transformed, it must
ultimately be the people of the community who take ownership of solving
whatever problems they are facing. There are many well-meaning, compassionate,
do-gooders who have seriously harmed people and communities by doing things and
providing things for people that they simply should not have done. They took
the easier, shorter route of directly stepping in and trying to ‘fix’ something
quickly, while the best solution was the long-term route of empowering and
building up the people themselves. The Iron Rule reminds us to keep in mind the
extraordinary capabilities people have for learning, growing, stretching, and rising
up to meet the challenges they face. The church is called to walk alongside
those struggling people in solidarity and support, helping them cultivate and
channel the power they contain within themselves.
However, most churches have yet to move beyond compassion and mercy ministries towards advocacy and justice. Many churchgoers hardly understand the
biblical mandates behind social justice and the call to work for the shalom of
the city. Churches that are still stuck in engaging in only compassion and
mercy ministries must be taught about God’s heart for justice and the commands
in his Word to strive for it. This cannot be taught simply from the pulpit or
in formal classroom-style lectures or trainings. The need to work for justice
should also be taught through dialogue – such as storytelling – and
experiential learning in or near their community. Before they learn the
definition of ‘Iron Rule’ and other concepts necessary for empowering people,
the Iron Rule must be applied to them. The church’s leadership cannot impose
the need to seek justice on the congregants; the congregation must take
ownership of their call to strive for justice in their communities. As they
begin to grasp for themselves the understanding of the injustices that plague our
world and our society, then they can begin to learn how to stand up against the powers and principalities. The church
itself must be empowered to seek justice and live into that before it can go
out to its community and effectively build up the marginalized and the
oppressed.
4.16.2012
the snow globe starts to calm down
The last three months have been packed to the hilt with newness, challenges, and a myriad of experiences. It's often felt like I'm standing in a snow globe, and God just picked it up and started shaking it til all I could see was the swirling white flakes, spinning frantically around me. Each flake was something new, someone new, someplace new, a new piece of information, a new observation, a new thought, a new feeling, a new connection.
I think God made us all - even the people who love adventures - so we seek out stability, peace, and solid ground in something, someplace, or someone eventually. That rooted, at-home feeling is something we all desire at the end of the day. Excitement, variety, adventure, and newness are all wonderful, but we eventually want to find our niche and start digging in with our roots.
Near the end of this semester, I'm still being hit in the face sometimes with new flakes, but the spinning has slowed down. Picture after a blizzard when the frozen, sparkling snow is softly settling to the ground. The torrential wind has died down, and you can start to discern the landscape around you again. You can start to pick out familiar landmarks, and you're back to comprehending your environment.
My surroundings at North Park, in Chicago, maybe even in the Midwest (..maybe that's a bit of a stretch) are starting to make sense and feel familiar. I'm beginning to gain a glimmer of understanding and focus on where I fit in the midst of this community, this neighborhood. There's still plenty that will change and evolve over the rest of my time here, however long that is, but I have begun letting down some small roots into this new soil.
I think God made us all - even the people who love adventures - so we seek out stability, peace, and solid ground in something, someplace, or someone eventually. That rooted, at-home feeling is something we all desire at the end of the day. Excitement, variety, adventure, and newness are all wonderful, but we eventually want to find our niche and start digging in with our roots.
Near the end of this semester, I'm still being hit in the face sometimes with new flakes, but the spinning has slowed down. Picture after a blizzard when the frozen, sparkling snow is softly settling to the ground. The torrential wind has died down, and you can start to discern the landscape around you again. You can start to pick out familiar landmarks, and you're back to comprehending your environment.
My surroundings at North Park, in Chicago, maybe even in the Midwest (..maybe that's a bit of a stretch) are starting to make sense and feel familiar. I'm beginning to gain a glimmer of understanding and focus on where I fit in the midst of this community, this neighborhood. There's still plenty that will change and evolve over the rest of my time here, however long that is, but I have begun letting down some small roots into this new soil.
4.04.2012
faith-rooted organizing
This is a blog post I wrote for my Mobilizing for Justice class. I attended a Faith-rooted Organizing conference this February, and this is my reflection on it. Enjoy:)
“See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Matt. 10:16
Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Alexia Salvatierra, facilitator of the 2-day Faith-Rooted Organizing conference I attended at South Loop Community Church in February, continually referenced this scripture throughout our time together. Community organizing can be a handful; trying to connect all sorts of diverse people in a community to advocate for change in an organized fashion is quite a feat. Alexia has been involved with faith-rooted community organizing (specifically the Christian faith, just to clarify) in many different facets over the years. Over just a couple days, she managed to lay out a solid foundation regarding how the faith component is so essential and valuable in efforts to organize. Some people argue that approaching organizing from a faith perspective can compromise the effort, as Christian values (of loving your enemies, of doing all things with righteousness and integrity) can make it tricky when choosing to attack an unjust system or structure. How do you lovingly confront someone who is perpetrating an injustice? However, her constant reminder to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves serves as a model for how Christians can boldly, wisely, strategically – yet still lovingly – live out our biblical mandate to “do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
As someone who wants to work in faith-based nonprofit organizations, the material and strategies I learned from this conference were exceptionally relevant. The talks and discussions insightfully demonstrated how faith-rooted organizing has much to offer in the struggle against the unjust systems and structure we face today. I learned the basic components of organizing [goals, analysis, strategies, recruitment, leadership development and leadership sustaining] in addition to the essential components the faith factor brings to the table.
Instead of inhibiting the organizing effort, faith-rootedness ultimately enhances it in huge ways. The faith perspective has a lot to offer a group of people who are working together against an organization, corporation, or system that has markedly more financial resources and hard power than the community organizers will ever have. Faith offers an entirely different understanding of the situation when the odds seem stacked against you. For starters, its definitions of wealth and power differ from the standard definitions of those words in our culture. In the Christian context, wealth does not have to do with just money, and power is not exclusively in the hands of those at the top. Faith-rootedness helps community organizers see the potential power that exists in the hands of the poor and the oppressed. The voices of those who have been systematically wronged and abused hold much power, as they have the right to call out those who have oppressed and harmed them. Those at the top of unjust systems and structures (who appear to be the primary power-brokers) in reality have some severe vulnerabilities, as they reached their position through the exploitation of the weak and the poor. People of faith within the community not only value the oppressed and the marginalized in society, but are called by God to actively stand up for them and empower them to rise up. The rich do not hold a monopoly on power; the people of God bring this understanding to all organizing efforts they engage in.
3.26.2012
spring settles in
I am writing this on a plane, heading to Newark for my best friend's wedding. I guess it takes a situation like a plane ride - when I'm forced to sit still for a few hours but don't feel the least bit inclined to touch my homework yet - to help me make time to write. It seems every minute of March has been filled with something up to this point, and I'm grateful for a little breathing room in my schedule.
The last few weeks have ushered in spring in Chicago. The weather's been abnormal in the best way, reaching temperatures 20 degrees or more above average on most days. I woke up the other day to see a haze of green spreading over all the trees, which has only deepened with time. I've been able to go exploring in my neighborhood often over the last couple of weeks, especially along the river that runs near campus. There are parks and walking/biking paths that run alongside the river, which is a huge saving grace for me. As much as I love my new city, I've always lived in beautiful places where nature and the outdoors were all around me.
My first walk by the river - a few weeks ago, right when the weather began to take a turn towards amazing - left me with a myriad of images in my mind. It was the first spring-like, no jacket, run and play outside sort of day. This is perfect for people watching, which you get plenty of when you go for a walk on a beautiful day in a city park.
The first thing you notice in the parks are the children, who are everywhere. Loud, laughing, screaming, racing each other to the swings, riding their scooters, getting all dirty and sweaty and sun burned.
Then you notice the parents. You notice some differences among them. Some sit quietly, watching their kids from park benches. Others are preoccupied with their phones or other friends. Still others are completely lost in embracing their inner child, sitting up on the monkey bars with their children, forgetting about trying to keep their clothes clean or what time their favorite tv show is on that night.
Next, you notice the dogs, which are all over the place and may cause you to suddenly realize how pet-deprived you are at the moment. Dogs of all sizes and attitudes: some rolling like crazy all over the place, deliriously happy to be outside; some running like their life depended on it after a slimy rubber ball; some trotting alongside their owner, completely subdued and well-behaved.
After you've gotten over your dog-envy and stopped plotting different dognapping scenarios, you notice the bicyclists. Chicago is a pretty bike-friendly city (though you'll hear the occasional story about biking disasters...some funny, some vaguely terrifying). You'll see all sorts of bicyclists. There are the uber-intense bikers, clothed in professional biking garb, racing against a clock you can't see. Not to stereotype, but these are usually guys with sunglasses, backpacks, and no expression on their faces. Next you'll see the cute bicyclist family peddle on by, complete with smiling baby or toddler being towed by their mom or dad's bike. If you're really lucky, you'll even manage to see a guy biking with no hands...texting....like I did. I couldn't decide if I was impressed by his remarkable balance and multi-tasking, or annoyed that he was too focused on his little screen to look up at the beautiful place he was passing through.
While you're walking along, you'll also notice the runners. This is by far the most entertaining part to observe, as people run in a million and a half different ways. You'll see your straight-backed, fist-pumping, jaw-clenched runners who look prepared to run through brick walls and up mountains without breaking stride. Then there are the people running so slow you pass them while walking, their feet hardly leaving the ground, and you can tell they hate every step they're taking. Best of all, you get to see the flailing runners, whose limbs are on the verge of losing control as their feet pound the pavement. [Seeing their crazy running is secretly terrifying - do they know they look like this when they run? What do we look like when we're running?!]
Beyond all those images, there is so much more to see in a city park on a warm spring day. Kites flying, fresh dirt being spread on a baseball diamond, people of all ages playing pick-up soccer games wherever there's enough space, an old man walking slowly on the grass next to the path, hoping to save his knees by avoiding the pavement, a little girl in a pink tutu, holding her parents' hands.
This is what I see in my new neighborhood, my new home. These things aren't particularly new or unique on their own, but my walk that day was renewing, refreshing. It's good to see the city become livelier, lighter, more like a real community that lives and plays together as winter fades away and spring settles in.
The last few weeks have ushered in spring in Chicago. The weather's been abnormal in the best way, reaching temperatures 20 degrees or more above average on most days. I woke up the other day to see a haze of green spreading over all the trees, which has only deepened with time. I've been able to go exploring in my neighborhood often over the last couple of weeks, especially along the river that runs near campus. There are parks and walking/biking paths that run alongside the river, which is a huge saving grace for me. As much as I love my new city, I've always lived in beautiful places where nature and the outdoors were all around me.
My first walk by the river - a few weeks ago, right when the weather began to take a turn towards amazing - left me with a myriad of images in my mind. It was the first spring-like, no jacket, run and play outside sort of day. This is perfect for people watching, which you get plenty of when you go for a walk on a beautiful day in a city park.
The first thing you notice in the parks are the children, who are everywhere. Loud, laughing, screaming, racing each other to the swings, riding their scooters, getting all dirty and sweaty and sun burned.
Then you notice the parents. You notice some differences among them. Some sit quietly, watching their kids from park benches. Others are preoccupied with their phones or other friends. Still others are completely lost in embracing their inner child, sitting up on the monkey bars with their children, forgetting about trying to keep their clothes clean or what time their favorite tv show is on that night.
Next, you notice the dogs, which are all over the place and may cause you to suddenly realize how pet-deprived you are at the moment. Dogs of all sizes and attitudes: some rolling like crazy all over the place, deliriously happy to be outside; some running like their life depended on it after a slimy rubber ball; some trotting alongside their owner, completely subdued and well-behaved.
After you've gotten over your dog-envy and stopped plotting different dognapping scenarios, you notice the bicyclists. Chicago is a pretty bike-friendly city (though you'll hear the occasional story about biking disasters...some funny, some vaguely terrifying). You'll see all sorts of bicyclists. There are the uber-intense bikers, clothed in professional biking garb, racing against a clock you can't see. Not to stereotype, but these are usually guys with sunglasses, backpacks, and no expression on their faces. Next you'll see the cute bicyclist family peddle on by, complete with smiling baby or toddler being towed by their mom or dad's bike. If you're really lucky, you'll even manage to see a guy biking with no hands...texting....like I did. I couldn't decide if I was impressed by his remarkable balance and multi-tasking, or annoyed that he was too focused on his little screen to look up at the beautiful place he was passing through.
While you're walking along, you'll also notice the runners. This is by far the most entertaining part to observe, as people run in a million and a half different ways. You'll see your straight-backed, fist-pumping, jaw-clenched runners who look prepared to run through brick walls and up mountains without breaking stride. Then there are the people running so slow you pass them while walking, their feet hardly leaving the ground, and you can tell they hate every step they're taking. Best of all, you get to see the flailing runners, whose limbs are on the verge of losing control as their feet pound the pavement. [Seeing their crazy running is secretly terrifying - do they know they look like this when they run? What do we look like when we're running?!]
Beyond all those images, there is so much more to see in a city park on a warm spring day. Kites flying, fresh dirt being spread on a baseball diamond, people of all ages playing pick-up soccer games wherever there's enough space, an old man walking slowly on the grass next to the path, hoping to save his knees by avoiding the pavement, a little girl in a pink tutu, holding her parents' hands.
This is what I see in my new neighborhood, my new home. These things aren't particularly new or unique on their own, but my walk that day was renewing, refreshing. It's good to see the city become livelier, lighter, more like a real community that lives and plays together as winter fades away and spring settles in.
2.19.2012
when 'home' reaches me in chicago
Five and a half weeks here in Chicago. I feel as though I blinked and over a month of my life just flew on right by me, but at the same time, it's hard to believe I haven't been here much longer. As you can tell, I'm still a little disoriented by all the shifts that have occurred around me. New home, new friends, new daily rhythm, new weather, new city...same me, for the most part. I don't have much of an idea of how I'll be changing in my new circumstances, though I have an idea of who I'm becoming.
Despite the unrelenting waves of change, there have been a few moments over the past month where I was surprised by a piece of home, or at least familiarity, popping up out of nowhere and reminding me that there is some constancy in all of this. During all these times, I was struck by this feeling of ease and naturalness, where I could completely drop the act of trying-learning-adjusting-meeting-analyzing-making good impressions-putting forth effort-intentionality that is part of life when you've just begun a new chapter.
One of the first times this natural, familiar feeling swept over me was...oddly enough...in the gym. A bunch of the Seminary students play basketball two days a week, and I've been going since my first week here. When I was on the court (maybe the second week in), it struck me why I had been loving my time playing basketball so far. The basketball court was a place where I could effortlessly, naturally, just be myself. I knew the rules to basketball; they didn't change from New York to Illinois. I didn't have to put forth a constant effort to be friendly and engaging and social so I could get to know people....it's basketball. You just play. The other players are automatically going to accept you as long as you try hard and aren't some show-off punk who never passes the ball. And in the meantime, while I was completely at ease to be myself in a setting that's been a part of my life since as long as I've been old enough to dribble a ball around my driveway, I naturally started forming some friendships. Who wouldn't want to make friends when we're all elbowing each other in the face/gut/arm and wheezing because none of us are in as good of shape as we should be?!
Another place where the feeling of home touched me was in the Seminary's chapel, where the Most Beautiful Thing in the World lives.....a Steinway piano. Well. I guess that's a close second, right after the Spirit of God. It's absolutely lovely. The chapel's open all day, so as long as there's not a service or lecture going on there, it's sitting quietly waiting for me to come by.
Strangely, I feel completely at ease whenever I'm walking around my new city or riding the L. I guess I feel at home whenever I'm exploring someplace new. I've taken the L to different parts of Chicago a few times now - to visit Angela at DePaul, to go to the Covenant conference near the O'Hare airport, and to the northern edge of the Southside for a conference on faith-based organizing - and I can't imagine getting tired of discovering new parts of this city. I love seeing all the people, walking down streets and by buildings that hold more history than I could ever unravel, and just being a part of this incredible buzzing, bright, ever-moving, ever-creating mass of humanity that make up this huge community.
One day last week, my class was cancelled (is there ever a better surprise than that?) so I was walking down Foster Ave towards the pharmacy. As I walked along, I had this irrepressible bounce in my step as I traveled through my new neighborhood, which I'm coming to love. My mind always goes into active mode while I walk - thinking through things, processing what's around me, and/or praying. [I've had a lot of good walks with God, often in cemeteries. Since most everyone around you is dead in a cemetery, it's easy to have undistracted conversations. Also, you get reminded of your mortality again....and again....and again, which can also encourage you to talk to God..]
People, cars, sounds, all of this is rushing by me as I walk, thinking about how simple it can be to blend into the background in a city. Anonymity and isolation are easiest when you're surrounded by an overwhelming sea of distractions and characters. I feel just the tiniest tug of loneliness - not a bad loneliness, more like an awareness of being by myself at the moment - when I hear a siren behind me, getting louder by the second. A little old woman in front of me, wearing a purple coat with the hood up, turns slowly around to see the source of the calamitous noise coming our way. As I pass by her, walking a million miles per hour (as usual), I hear her voice. I don't have much of an idea of what she's saying, but I turn back to look at her and see if she is addressing me. [I like to think she said "I wonder if they're coming after me," and based on what I understood from our conversation, I may not be far off the mark.]
She talks again, louder, but not looking at me. I slow down a bit, then stop. She starts speaking again, looking directly at me now. Her thick accent is Eastern European, her old voice is a bit crackly, and her head is approximately 4 1/2 feet off the ground, so you'll forgive me if I had trouble following the story she tells me. The Reader's Digest version of what I interpreted: she went to a church down the street for dinner (it was 1:45 in the afternoon..), got (or didn't get) some food, wanted to take cookies home but they didn't let her (again...not sure how much of this is accurate....but she did say cookies at least a dozen times and seemed quite annoyed), and they told her if she wanted more food to come back at 6:30. She got mad, took her money, and left.
Whatever she says, I just nod and smile and make generic comments back, since I don't want to make her repeat everything 8 times and still not understand it. As we walk slowly together towards the pharmacy on the corner, she abruptly changes the subject on me. "You are Polish?" comes out of her mouth, and I can't help but smile. This old woman on this busy street in this new city, where I often feel everything is so unfamiliar, new, or changing, could take one look at my face and correctly guess my ethnic heritage. I tell her she's right, that my father's family was 100% Polish, and then she tells me she is Greek. She asks me my name. She tells me her name is Patricia. I tell her about being a student at North Park, and her only question about school is if I'd met any Greek people there yet. When we reach the pharmacy, we smile and wave as we say good-bye, and I walk off feeling like a little piece of home has just reached out and pierced me in the midst of this brand-new life.
Despite the unrelenting waves of change, there have been a few moments over the past month where I was surprised by a piece of home, or at least familiarity, popping up out of nowhere and reminding me that there is some constancy in all of this. During all these times, I was struck by this feeling of ease and naturalness, where I could completely drop the act of trying-learning-adjusting-meeting-analyzing-making good impressions-putting forth effort-intentionality that is part of life when you've just begun a new chapter.
One of the first times this natural, familiar feeling swept over me was...oddly enough...in the gym. A bunch of the Seminary students play basketball two days a week, and I've been going since my first week here. When I was on the court (maybe the second week in), it struck me why I had been loving my time playing basketball so far. The basketball court was a place where I could effortlessly, naturally, just be myself. I knew the rules to basketball; they didn't change from New York to Illinois. I didn't have to put forth a constant effort to be friendly and engaging and social so I could get to know people....it's basketball. You just play. The other players are automatically going to accept you as long as you try hard and aren't some show-off punk who never passes the ball. And in the meantime, while I was completely at ease to be myself in a setting that's been a part of my life since as long as I've been old enough to dribble a ball around my driveway, I naturally started forming some friendships. Who wouldn't want to make friends when we're all elbowing each other in the face/gut/arm and wheezing because none of us are in as good of shape as we should be?!
Another place where the feeling of home touched me was in the Seminary's chapel, where the Most Beautiful Thing in the World lives.....a Steinway piano. Well. I guess that's a close second, right after the Spirit of God. It's absolutely lovely. The chapel's open all day, so as long as there's not a service or lecture going on there, it's sitting quietly waiting for me to come by.
Strangely, I feel completely at ease whenever I'm walking around my new city or riding the L. I guess I feel at home whenever I'm exploring someplace new. I've taken the L to different parts of Chicago a few times now - to visit Angela at DePaul, to go to the Covenant conference near the O'Hare airport, and to the northern edge of the Southside for a conference on faith-based organizing - and I can't imagine getting tired of discovering new parts of this city. I love seeing all the people, walking down streets and by buildings that hold more history than I could ever unravel, and just being a part of this incredible buzzing, bright, ever-moving, ever-creating mass of humanity that make up this huge community.
One day last week, my class was cancelled (is there ever a better surprise than that?) so I was walking down Foster Ave towards the pharmacy. As I walked along, I had this irrepressible bounce in my step as I traveled through my new neighborhood, which I'm coming to love. My mind always goes into active mode while I walk - thinking through things, processing what's around me, and/or praying. [I've had a lot of good walks with God, often in cemeteries. Since most everyone around you is dead in a cemetery, it's easy to have undistracted conversations. Also, you get reminded of your mortality again....and again....and again, which can also encourage you to talk to God..]
People, cars, sounds, all of this is rushing by me as I walk, thinking about how simple it can be to blend into the background in a city. Anonymity and isolation are easiest when you're surrounded by an overwhelming sea of distractions and characters. I feel just the tiniest tug of loneliness - not a bad loneliness, more like an awareness of being by myself at the moment - when I hear a siren behind me, getting louder by the second. A little old woman in front of me, wearing a purple coat with the hood up, turns slowly around to see the source of the calamitous noise coming our way. As I pass by her, walking a million miles per hour (as usual), I hear her voice. I don't have much of an idea of what she's saying, but I turn back to look at her and see if she is addressing me. [I like to think she said "I wonder if they're coming after me," and based on what I understood from our conversation, I may not be far off the mark.]
She talks again, louder, but not looking at me. I slow down a bit, then stop. She starts speaking again, looking directly at me now. Her thick accent is Eastern European, her old voice is a bit crackly, and her head is approximately 4 1/2 feet off the ground, so you'll forgive me if I had trouble following the story she tells me. The Reader's Digest version of what I interpreted: she went to a church down the street for dinner (it was 1:45 in the afternoon..), got (or didn't get) some food, wanted to take cookies home but they didn't let her (again...not sure how much of this is accurate....but she did say cookies at least a dozen times and seemed quite annoyed), and they told her if she wanted more food to come back at 6:30. She got mad, took her money, and left.
Whatever she says, I just nod and smile and make generic comments back, since I don't want to make her repeat everything 8 times and still not understand it. As we walk slowly together towards the pharmacy on the corner, she abruptly changes the subject on me. "You are Polish?" comes out of her mouth, and I can't help but smile. This old woman on this busy street in this new city, where I often feel everything is so unfamiliar, new, or changing, could take one look at my face and correctly guess my ethnic heritage. I tell her she's right, that my father's family was 100% Polish, and then she tells me she is Greek. She asks me my name. She tells me her name is Patricia. I tell her about being a student at North Park, and her only question about school is if I'd met any Greek people there yet. When we reach the pharmacy, we smile and wave as we say good-bye, and I walk off feeling like a little piece of home has just reached out and pierced me in the midst of this brand-new life.
1.22.2012
my chicago story: the beginning
It's been nine and a half days since moving into my new apartment, at my new campus, in my new city, in my new state, in my new time zone....
so I guess it's time for a little update. Consider yourself warned: this won't be a nicely cohesive, deeply thought out, reflective piece of writing. I had time for that during my two-month sabbatical from Real Life, when my biggest responsibility during a typical day was taking my dog for a walk or cooking dinner. This will be more like random snapshots of my new life, as it's gone so far.. and then I have to get back to homework.
My new digs:
Let's start with my apartment. I live in an on-campus apartment building that's reserved for seminary students, with six total apartments in it. My roommates - Kelly and Carrie - are fantastic. They're both second-year seminary students who helped make me feel at home in my new place almost immediately. I got here last Friday, unloaded all my stuff [have I mentioned lately that my parents are great? Cause they are. They drove a 1700+ mile roundtrip over one weekend to help me move most of my stuff up here, through some lovely weather, I might add, then proceeded to buy half of Target for me so I'd have food, pillows, and other essentials. Like peppermint patties.], and I unpacked and settled in over the next few days.
Oh, and you may be wondering about my apartment's location? Right in the middle of campus, less than a minute's walk to the gym, on the same street as four friends from camp, and less than five minutes' walk to any of my classes. WIN.
The people:
Now, if you know me well at all, you'll know I've had to say good-bye to a lot of amazing people over the last few months (including maybe you?). I'm not one to dwell on good-byes, get all misty eyed, or sink into despair when I have to leave people - but I had to leave so many of them. It was harder than I knew it'd be, but it almost always is.
Luckily, I knew I'd be going to a place filled with some pretty incredible people. I'm sure it's not exactly a surprise to hear that all the people I've met so far have been welcoming and kind to the new girl. (This is God school, after all.) It's been awhile since I've been the new kid on the block, and I'm not at all comfortable in that role. The way my life's been - particularly in college, working at my church, and working at camp - I'm used to being the one welcoming people and making them feel at home. Like anyone else, I like intuitively understanding my environment and knowing what my niche is.
Also, I'm a super-relational person. Shallow, surface-level friendships don't do much for me. I know there's always some of those in a person's life, but I don't thrive on them. At this point, I've been here a week and a half. There are a few people I'm getting to know well, and I'm seeing a lot of potential in those friendships, but most of the people I run into are friendly faces whose name I only remember about 80% of the time. I'm looking forward to the day when I'm comfortable enough with everyone around me that I can admit my life isn't all sunshine and rainbows and shooting stars. (I think that day will be here soon.)
The classes:
This is the part that's probably least exciting to you....and to me, actually....so I'll keep it short. Classes - interesting. Professors - smart (and, bonus points! they actually care if we succeed). Homework - laaaame. It's a lot of reading, analyzing, and writing, which I'm used to, but it's all on subjects I haven't studied before. I mean, I've read the Bible, obviously. I've even preached and led discussions on it. But the academic setting - all the terms and ways of thinking about these things - it's all pretty unfamiliar right now. It'll get better. My ratio of work to play is wayyy unbalanced at the moment, as I'm trying to get used to all this, but I'm still making sure I have some fun:)
That's all I have time for right now. My Business Ethics textbook and book on Preaching are calling to me from across the room, so I have to go hang out with them for a bit. I hope this helps you see a little window into my new life. I'm still feeling pretty great about this new adventure - God's been unceasingly good to me through it all - and I wish you all the best, wherever you are.
so I guess it's time for a little update. Consider yourself warned: this won't be a nicely cohesive, deeply thought out, reflective piece of writing. I had time for that during my two-month sabbatical from Real Life, when my biggest responsibility during a typical day was taking my dog for a walk or cooking dinner. This will be more like random snapshots of my new life, as it's gone so far.. and then I have to get back to homework.
My new digs:
Let's start with my apartment. I live in an on-campus apartment building that's reserved for seminary students, with six total apartments in it. My roommates - Kelly and Carrie - are fantastic. They're both second-year seminary students who helped make me feel at home in my new place almost immediately. I got here last Friday, unloaded all my stuff [have I mentioned lately that my parents are great? Cause they are. They drove a 1700+ mile roundtrip over one weekend to help me move most of my stuff up here, through some lovely weather, I might add, then proceeded to buy half of Target for me so I'd have food, pillows, and other essentials. Like peppermint patties.], and I unpacked and settled in over the next few days.
Oh, and you may be wondering about my apartment's location? Right in the middle of campus, less than a minute's walk to the gym, on the same street as four friends from camp, and less than five minutes' walk to any of my classes. WIN.
The people:
Now, if you know me well at all, you'll know I've had to say good-bye to a lot of amazing people over the last few months (including maybe you?). I'm not one to dwell on good-byes, get all misty eyed, or sink into despair when I have to leave people - but I had to leave so many of them. It was harder than I knew it'd be, but it almost always is.
Luckily, I knew I'd be going to a place filled with some pretty incredible people. I'm sure it's not exactly a surprise to hear that all the people I've met so far have been welcoming and kind to the new girl. (This is God school, after all.) It's been awhile since I've been the new kid on the block, and I'm not at all comfortable in that role. The way my life's been - particularly in college, working at my church, and working at camp - I'm used to being the one welcoming people and making them feel at home. Like anyone else, I like intuitively understanding my environment and knowing what my niche is.
Also, I'm a super-relational person. Shallow, surface-level friendships don't do much for me. I know there's always some of those in a person's life, but I don't thrive on them. At this point, I've been here a week and a half. There are a few people I'm getting to know well, and I'm seeing a lot of potential in those friendships, but most of the people I run into are friendly faces whose name I only remember about 80% of the time. I'm looking forward to the day when I'm comfortable enough with everyone around me that I can admit my life isn't all sunshine and rainbows and shooting stars. (I think that day will be here soon.)
The classes:
This is the part that's probably least exciting to you....and to me, actually....so I'll keep it short. Classes - interesting. Professors - smart (and, bonus points! they actually care if we succeed). Homework - laaaame. It's a lot of reading, analyzing, and writing, which I'm used to, but it's all on subjects I haven't studied before. I mean, I've read the Bible, obviously. I've even preached and led discussions on it. But the academic setting - all the terms and ways of thinking about these things - it's all pretty unfamiliar right now. It'll get better. My ratio of work to play is wayyy unbalanced at the moment, as I'm trying to get used to all this, but I'm still making sure I have some fun:)
That's all I have time for right now. My Business Ethics textbook and book on Preaching are calling to me from across the room, so I have to go hang out with them for a bit. I hope this helps you see a little window into my new life. I'm still feeling pretty great about this new adventure - God's been unceasingly good to me through it all - and I wish you all the best, wherever you are.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)