Category Archives: Musings

What shall we bring?

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It is difficult to pray for the man who we now have to call president. Really difficult. But we should because he is a fellow human being, after all. But what does that prayer look like? I wish that I could glibly reply like the rabbi in “The Fiddler on the Roof,” “May God bless and keep the czar (president)… far away from us.” But I can’t. Instead I can pray that he is in good health and hope that he decides to be more humane.

If you can’t pray for him yet or prayer doesn’t quite work for you, then act. Acting is difficult, but in this situation, I think it is easier because it is simpler.

There are a few articles going around on social media about what you can do about the ridiculous, unjust, terrifying executive orders. Read them. Think about them. Call and/or write your senators. Donate to the Safe Passage Project and/or Kal Penn’s Crowdrise compaign (https://www.crowdrise.com/donating-to-syrian-refugees-in-the-name-of-the-dude-who-said-i-dont-belong-in-america?utm_donation=b7418d588e3972e61934d07341037&utm_platform=fb&utm_device=mobile&utm_source=donate-cr).

Humanity acts us to act justly and have mercy. The god of Christians, the god of Jews, the god of Muslims (the same God, whichever name or book is used) calls us to unite, do justice and have mercy. It calls us to feed and love the outcast and the unwelcome. It calls us to cease divisions.

Looking back at the history of my blog, I see that most of my posts were about books and writing. But this blog, like me, has changed. While I am still passionate about literature, I am also becoming increasingly passionate about social justice. Last week, I applied to a couple social work graduate programs. One of the applications asked me to define social justice and write about my commitment to it.  While I didn’t like writing it, it made me appreciate those who have helped turned the tide for good and those today who are also committed to it.

May I do the same. I hope you will join me.

“What shall I bring to the Lord?”

Will He require something special from me?

Oh, what shall I bring for a King?

I could bring riches, power, now is the hour to lift our voices and sing…

But hear what the Lord says:

Do justice, have mercy… and walk humbly with your God…

What shall I bring to the Lord?”

– “What Shall I Bring to the Lord,” a choral anthem by Robert C. Lau, based on Micah 6: 6-8

sometimes we call

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A few days before leaving Colorado for Pennsylvania, my dad made me two things from his 3d printer: A miniature TARDIS (blue of course) and an orange squirrel that I named Zacchaeus.

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For those who don’t know or need a refresher, Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector during the time of Jesus’ teachings. One day, Zacchaeus climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus over the crowd of people. Jesus saw him, called him by name, and told him that he wanted to visit his house. The crowd was shocked because tax collectors were despised for working for the Roman Empire and not the Jewish community.

The Sycamore House doesn’t have a sycamore house to climb in our garden (although we do have some lilies!), but we are still very much like our man in the story from Luke. Every day or nearly every day, we are trying to find ourselves and our vocations. And sometimes we need some help. Sometimes like Zacchaeus, we need something to lift us over the crowd. Sometimes we call on the help of our wonderful and effervescent director. Sometimes we call on each other. And then sometimes we make orange squirrels.

My little version of Zacchaeus does not directly help me with my vocation. In fact, most of the times he is stuck in a bag or half forgotten on the coffee table. He helps motivate me and remind me of my dad, people back home, and callers that use our helpline. He reminds me of why I am here, which is sometimes easy to forget when I’m tired out by duties and difficult calls.

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Last week, he traveled with me to Colorado for my winter break and helped me take pictures of the snow and mountains for my housemates.

Next week, he is going to be placed in a seat of honor on my desk at work. Will he physically help me with calls and other duties? Probably not. But it will be nice to have him there, a companion along the way.

And for those who are wondering, I had a TARDIS made because Doctor Who, like bowties, is cool.

We Grow in Strength (Not in Height)

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“This oak was already old when I was born. Now I am old and soon to die, and this tree grows strong still. We are small creatures. Our lives are not long, but long enough to learn.”

-Stephen Lawhead

On one corner of the Sycamore House’s kitchen, residents and a few other relevant people from the past 10 years have measured their heights.

Whenever I pause to notice, I am awed by the number of people who have lived in and loved this house. In this almost 200 year old house, 10 years is only a small time, but we do affect it in some small ways. Furniture has come and gone, random personal items like mugs, music books, and bongos have been left, a mannequin has taken permanent residence (much to our chagrin), and rooms have been painted and reshaped.

Last week my housemates and I added our own heights to the wall. Many of us have marked our height as children in our own homes. The purpose of that, of course, was to measure how much we have physically grown from the month or year to the next. Since we are adults, we are not going to get taller. Our height, like many tangible and intangible things in this world, will not change…. At least for a while. Eventually we will shrink.

Change takes a long time, especially when it is so often reversed. I could have devote this post to how some positive changes could potentially reverse in the next few years… but instead, I wanted to focus on strength.

After all, if we don’t grow in height, we grow in strength.

There are all different kind of strengths. I personally don’t have much physical strength, but I have other strengths. The majority of these strengths are ones that I’m still discovering and expanding upon. At the beginning of my year at the Sycamore House,  some of my housemates and I gathered around a fire and shared what we thought were each others’ greatest strengths. That conversation and countless others has helped me I figure out that I get into social work. Furthermore, it affirmed my belief that we are stronger when we are together and when we can build each other up.

 

 

 

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Happy Thanksgiving!

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Growing up, I was told the story of “The First Thanksgiving,” a feast that was purportedly a peaceful gathering of those who were indigenous to this country and those who just recently immigrated. In kindergarten and first grade, I remember making pilgrim hats and Native American headdresses, not realizing that there was more to the story.

But, of course there is. And there isn’t just one story. There’s the Trail of Tears, The Sand Creek Massacre, The Battle of Wounded Knee, and the countless events that have no official name in the history books. There are the reservations, the poor and often abusing education, the unwanted romanticism/ignorance of Native American culture, and the current struggle of Standing Rock.

To pretend that Thanksgiving is only about the meal and the family is ignoring history, something that we should never do, especially in this political climate. However, it means something different for everyone. For some it is unfortunately stressful because of family, lack of funds for a full Thanksgiving meal, grief, etc. I cannot speak for what this Thanksgiving will be for everyone, but I can speak for myself. During this Thanksgiving, this Thanksgiving which will be away from home, I am more aware of what I am thankful for than usual.

I am thankful for my intentional community.

I am thankful that in my community, I can cry, laugh, talk, be silent, and discover more of myself.

I am thankful for a bus system that can transport me to my nearby grandparents for Thanksgiving break.

I am thankful for the 7 little cousins that make dinner fun and interesting.

I am thankful for modern technology that keeps me touch with loved ones so easily.

I am thankful for love, which may be invisible often, but always overpowers hate.

 

Love Trumps Hate

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Glancing through my Facebook feed from yesterday and today, I can only see political posts. They are quite different from the ones that I’ve seen this last year or so, condemning this candidate or the other. Now that America has chosen our next president, I see disgust, fear, and protest. The occasional pro Trump status seems out of place, even though it turns out that in this country they aren’t. They incur my irritation and brief anger (yesterday I almost threw my phone across the room after reading one), but the posts that irritate and worry me more are the ones that are explicitly hateful towards Republicans and this country for electing the orange man.

I get that you are angry and afraid. I am too. However, hate doesn’t do anything against hate. We should listen to Martin Luther King, Jr. who once said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Don’t show your hate to those who voted red and/or who show you hate. We, as human beings, are better than that. Hating those who hate us only adds to the toxicity present in the world. Christ says we should love our enemies. It is a difficult thing to do. I, for one, don’t know if it’s possible for me to truly love those who hate and endanger those who I know and love. But I think setting aside our hatred and putting that energy into something else that needs to be done is a start.

Up until the election, various people kept saying that they would move to Canada (or the moon, in one case) if Trump won. Most of them were joking, but apparently, Canada’s immigration website got overloaded. Meaning that some are serious. If another country is potentially less dangerous for you and your family than in the US under this next presidency, then do whatever you think is best. But for the rest, please stay. It does not do to run away when there are things to be done.

I realized yesterday when I went to a housing event where we had a conversation about ending homelessness that while I felt like some part of the world ended, the world still exists and those in the world still have needs. And we can help them. I do not help people because I am Christian (that should never be the only reason). I help people because I am a person. I help people because love trumps hate.

I told my boyfriend a couple days ago that I try to avoid using the word trump, even as an action word because it reminds me of a certain gentleman. But now I realize that refusing to say “trump” is akin to saying “You  Know Who” instead of “Lord Voldemort.” Because as Hermione Granger reminds us, “Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself” (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone).

 

Light dispels darkness. LOVE TRUMPS HATE.

 

Volunteering to Listen

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Hey guys! This is my second and last post as a guest blogger for Sycamore House. Enjoy!

And please check out my housemates’ posts in the upcoming months at https://sycamorehousehbg.wordpress.com/

CONTACT Helpline is primarily run by volunteers. In the last two months at my job, I have met a few of them, and they are amazing.

When volunteering comes up in conversations, usually the word brings up the image of soup kitchens, setting up for events, or maybe sweating while building shelves.

The volunteers at CONTACT are unique because they commit to a few hours per month to talk to people who are either in need of a specific resource or a listening ear. It is not easy to hear about difficult situations without knowing if you actually helped that person, which is part of why recruiting new volunteers is difficult.

It’s also difficult because we seldom truly listen (this is not a new or millennial thing, solely brought on by technology). We do hear (for the most part), but we do not always put our full concentration on listening. It is a challenge to listen as we may space out or get excited and/or nervous about how we should respond.

In a way, answering the phones for CONTACT is easier than everyday conversations because we have restrictions on what we can say. In a “normal” conversation, we can technically say anything that comes to mind. Volunteering has taught me to hold back interruptions and resist the temptation to relate a story that may not help at all.

So, my challenge to you (whether or not you actually volunteer on a helpline) is to volunteer to listen.

To Serve and Be Served

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Last Thursday, my supervisor asked me how I was liking and adjusting to Harrisburg, my new city. I told her that it was starting to feel like home despite the fact that I had only been here for two weeks and despite not knowing many places around the city. Throughout the weekend, I told my friends back in Colorado that I was falling in love with the city and while I didn’t think that I would be living here after this year, I could tell already that it will have a big part of my heart.

As this year goes on, I may not remember how strange not quite belonging feels, but I will definitely remember the kindness of the community that has welcomed us extremely warmly with pounds of food (in a tradition aptly called a Quaker Pounding), a gift certificate for a taco place, tickets to a baseball game, and tours around the city. This warmth is why I am already calling my house “home.”

It seems like it is difficult to return the help that we have received thus far since those helpers don’t seem to want much in return. But I’ve discovered that part of serving is being served. Like much else in life, there is a push and a pull. A give and a take. Or rather, gives and gifts. Some of those gifts are smiles, hugs, or “Welcome to…” Some of the gifts are seemingly small donations of time and/or money at the time, but like glue or lotion, go a long way. And yet some of the gifts are intangible, only noticeable after a few months or perhaps a few years.

I think this last kind of gift is what has made me who I am. Because these invisible, but not unfelt gifts shape me like a river shapes a canyon. Maybe my desire to serve is a product of this shaping.

To serve you have to be served.

Shut Up and Dance

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During my first dinner at my new house, one of my housemates asked as an impromptu icebreaker, “What song would you say was your summer anthem?” I thought a moment and said, “Shut Up and Dance” (by Walk the Moon). Now looking back at my first week, I’ve decided that the popular song has also been this week’s anthem (only in part because it’s been sung acapella or played a couple times in the past few days).

It has become a ritual of sorts for me to turn up the volume as high as possible and dance to the best of my abilities when this song comes on my car radio. Whether I’m alone or not (my boyfriend has been subjected to this ritual twice). I mumble sing along to the verses, but I can quite confidently deliver the chorus:

“Oh don’t you dare look back
Just keep your eyes on me
I said you’re holding back
She said shut up and dance with me
This woman is my destiny
She said oh oh oh
Shut up and dance with me”

This week has been tiring. I’ve met and bonded with six new brilliant housemates and our director, been warmly welcomed by members of the community, gone boating, cleaned onions on a farm, and taken walking tours of a new city with a different culture than my own. While I have been exhausted and busy, I have welcomed every opportunity instead of closing down or refusing. Because this year will challenge me and offer me experiences that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, experiences that will change me for good. And I think I should let myself be changed.
This year is like the woman in this song. It says to me, “quiet your anxieties”. It says, “just dive in.” It says, “you may not know what’s coming, but you can do it.” It says, “shut up and dance.”

 

Growing Up and Moving On

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Around this time of the year, I am usually mentally and physically preparing for yet another new year of school. However, In just a couple weeks, I will be beginning a new, albeit relatively short, chapter of my life.

I am happy to announce that I will be living in Pennsylvania for the next year, serving with the Episcopal Service Corps in a service agency and living in a community of five others my age. I am constantly being asked if I am excited. To some I say yes. To others, I go further and say yes, I am excited and little nervous as well. I’m not really nervous about living in a different state; I’m nervous about stepping outside the comforting familiarity of going to classes, reading assignments, and writing papers.

Today, I saw some high school friends for the first time in a couple years. It’s amazing how we have all grown up; our high school selves would most likely be surprised at who we’ve become and/or experiences we’ve had. We’ve all had different experiences, but we are all basically at the same stage of life where we’re transitioning from student to “real world” life. It is a strange stage, trying to figure out careers that will suit us in the future as well as relationships that will carry us on the river.

This  year, I know where I’m living and I somewhat know what I’m doing, but it’s unclear as to what I’m doing afterwards. But I know that I shouldn’t stress unnecessarily because what will happen will happen and I’ll accept it when it does.

Recently Read

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A few weeks ago,  I was lent a book that I perhaps wouldn’t have picked up at the bookstore because it isn’t fiction. However, I found that Richard Hooper’s Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, & Lao Tzu: The Parallel Sayings is quite enjoyable and enlightening.

Like many books, it opens with a praise/review section. Often, these praises are generic (the worst is “the next Lord of the Rings, when the book is nothing like the trilogy) and seems like the reviewer did not bother to read the book). Not so with these praises, which are genuine and true compliments. One such review says that it is “bound to nourish those who are soul-weary of combativeness in the name of religion.”

I am one who is weary of religious disputes and those hiding behind religion while attacking each other and found that the book replenished me and continues to do so every time I look through it. You see, Hooper does not focus on how each leader and how each religion/philosophy differs from each other, but how they are similar, reminding me that there can be unity among so much discord.

Hopper begins with explaining the history of each figure, the Buddha and Jesus in particular. Although I have a Christian upbringing and I have a decent knowledge of Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha), I learned quite a lot about both. The introduction was affirming to me as it put in words what I have been feeling for a long time: that Christianity has become a religion about Jesus and his teachings instead of being of Jesus and his teachings.

After the introduction, the book is broken into chapters on topics such as the self, wisdom and knowledge, love and compassion, and death and immortality. Hooper discusses each topic briefly before leaving the reader with quotations from the 4 philosophers that are remarkably similar. For instance, in the section about compassion, a quote from Jesus says “Blessed are the merciful, for theywill achieve mercy” and one from Lao Tzu says, “Compassion and mercy bring victory. Heaven belongs to the merciful.”

Hooper’s words may be challenging to some beliefs and reaffirming to others, but we need to challenge our beliefs in order to find out what they are and who we truly are.