changing directions

My church has had a huge effect on me pursuing community for five years.  Recently we have been meeting to discuss common life and more of a community in our body, the way Acts in the New Testament, and Jesus outlined and lived out.  Tonight I read these following paragraphs at the meeting, and it reflects the most recent calling I've had concerning my journey. . .

The book the Irresistible Revolution has dug far into my heart deeper then most anything, as I feel attuned to the conflicts and issues of Philadelphia personally.  After I graduated college I joined Americorps at the last minute and moved in with a friend and her mother outside Philadelphia, where i would walk 3 blocks, take the trolley, then ride the L train, then walk another 5 blocks deep into The Kensington section of Philadelphia, a few blocks north of the Simple Way.  It took about an hour.  There I worked in the office and warehouse, and after feeling not used enough, was given an entire project that overwhelmed me.  Holding a BA in photography, they thought I'd be great teaching inner-city kids nutrition in after school programs.  Well, I am a vegetarian. . .After 3 pm, I'd hop buses everyday deeper into the poorest sections of north Philly into crumbling but majestic churches and try to convince kids that carrots grew underground and work my understanding and acceptance that the Muslim kids don't eat until sundown during Ramadan.  

All this introduction into my introduction to Philly and the brink of the iceberg of needs there gives me the connection I feel towards the Simple Way, and the path I naturally took in the city - after the Food Bank gig was over, I worked in 2 coffee shops - one in the subway station under city hall and one across from the orchestra hall.  So many people with places to go, important, lucrative places.  I was not living as a Christian those days, but in many ways I was, even in my sins.  I had been saved as a youth, grown up in church, and prayed.  But I drank and smoked, cursed and lived with my boyfriend, then had a baby. . .but in the busy cave under the busy city, I saw Jesus in my friend and manager - a woman named Rose Mary who shot up heroin on her lunch breaks.  (last I saw her she was kicking heroin, visiting me in New Mexico while driving to California).  Among the city officials and lawyers and doctors, the other regulars were homeless - the kids and the old veterans, the insane and the ones who held too much knowledge and empathy for their own good.  Rose Mary showed unending patience and love with them - we talked and handed out coffees - remembering how many creams they liked as much as we did with the tipping customers.  Rose Mary was the first I told when I found out I was pregnant and walked with me through the entire process.  It was only natural that I handed out the left-over gourmet sandwiches and pastries to the brothers and sisters sleeping on the street vents on my way home everyday.  In the deepest pockets of my heart, this love and concern came from God - "all good things come from God."  And though my personal life was a mess, I was happiest living in the only white apartment on our block in west Philly.  I was one with that community and though we lived in separate houses, the proximity made anything outside every one's concern, and here was my introduction to community.  Sure it was the ghetto type of community, but I saw it everywhere, everyone had that sense.  

Shane Claiborne took that ideal I share with him and ran with it.  I was still much too caught up in having fun the majority of the time to commit to social reform through God's love, but all that in my past has prepared me, and given me a longing I feel resurrected through the words I've been reading, the family I've found here, the words I hear here.  Shane says Christians pretend to not understand the Bible and Jesus' words because if we really do understand, then why aren't we selling what we have and living with the poor?  Herein lies another problem for me - I've always been 'poor' - yet I have great stuff.  And kids.  Now what do I do?  What do we do?  Remain comfortable and help out with a meal or 2 with the homeless, the widows and orphans, or do we take those words to heart and admit we really do understand them?  To me, community looks like this - selling our things, our houses, giving our lives to God as Jesus gave his life to us, and opening up in ways that should scare us cross-eyed to what we are meant to be a followers of God.  We talk about the Simple Way and Mother Teresa and the Psalters, but from our own views, our own American culture, reassuring ourselves that God has worked us into the culture in just the right way.  I believe in revolution, in church, in love conquers all, and most of all complete and pure TRUST.  Physical Community is not a comfortable little farm, as I would have it to be, but  modest shelters like Jesus, the Dali Lama, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and the rest of the saints who live with the poor dwell in.  To me, it begins with letting go and never ends from there.  My friend shared a phrase he hangs on his fridge with me - "Let Go or Be Dragged."  Revival in the body of Christ needs to be more  revolution!  And yes, that scares me cross-eyed.  

The People We Meet

I haven't posted for a long time because of a tiresome and endless work schedual, which is kinda a joke with substitute teaching - I never know when I'll be working all day.  Yesterday I was called in getting ready to take the boys to school - Mercury is always up and takes the bus - it was Ez's class, just a half day, which subsequently turned into a whole day, which is also problematic because Samson gets out at 1:45, the others at 2:45, but the kindness of a new friend allowed me no worries there - as Samson's teacher brought him to the room at 1:45, Samson's friend's mom popped in right after and offered to take him home - amazing the people we meet - she's a single mom of 2 boys and a girl - the eldest the girl, so Mercury and her are buddies now and there is a mutual help involved in the friendship, as well as empathy and understanding.

But that's not what I want to tell you about.

For a couple of years septic has been backing up into the lawn and out onto the street when I do laundry (daily).  I told my mom but it has rested on my shoulders to pay for it until I forced the issue - not to mention I really don't have that money.  She let in and gave me a check.  It turns out to be a nightmare that doesn't much matter here - what does matter is that the roto-rooter man happened to also be a mechanic, a diesel mechanic who was very interested in the bus - who isn't?  He took a look around and crawled underneath, dictating the fuel filter numbers because he deduced that to be the issue with it not starting up for me (did I mention it won't start up for me?).  He swore on it.  He gave me great advice on maintenance, a local garage and checked the oil, even said he'd put in the fuel filters for free when he comes back to fix the nightmare.  The people we meet.  You know?

Beyond that, I have work obligations this weekend at 2 jobs, and social obligations tonight and Sunday, then work again Monday, then I feel like I'm ready to get that blasted insulation blasted in finally and make some phone calls towards the engine conversion.  A friend ran into another friend who happened to be a truck driver last week.  Said second party happens to also be very interested in the bus - who isn't? - so he passed along a number of his boss.  Not sure why, but apparently this third party may have a hand to lend.  The people we meet. . .

The Necessity of Learning through madness (for some)

I had to explain to the solar guy, we'll call him Troy, mainly because his name is Troy - that my money was eaten up by things like bills and gas and that dang tailpipe that jumped out of the highway and bit my gas tank wide open a few weeks ago.  I had to explain how the money I'd had reserved for the solar had been invested in other more pressing issues like food and toilet paper, insurance and underwear.

So then there I was, palatable explanation in the air and a payment plan worked out - working three jobs in order to tread the waters, and well, I decided to take a 2 day drive up to Pennsylvania because my life just isn't full enough of adventure and daring (or tempting God, my mom would say - I see it as Trust, but that's yet another post. . .).  Actually, it began as a dual journey, a flybytheseatofmypants thing that included, or rather, circled around proving my friendship to someone. . .but knowing it probably wouldn't end up the way I thought it may. . .elusive, I know. . .

So, we set out around 7pm last Friday.  I asked all the kids if they were up for 20+ hours in the car, ect.  All in favor.  We set out and made a stop to purchase White Fang and Call of the Wild on cd.  I drank half caf/decafs - the first taste of caffeine in over 5 years.

First gas stop 130 miles in - checked the oil - dry.  Ok God, sorry for tempting you, but I trust my heart is in the right place and even if I'm completely out of line at least I'll learn that lesson.  Oil added (4 quarts) and car is fine.  Civic with 206,000 miles.  Fine.

Drive 9 hours north.  Just before dawn I need a little more of that caffeine stuff.  Kids are asleep, ok - i lock the doors and take the keys, park right in front of the truck stop doors.  Get back in the car, which has a flat tire.  Ok.  Go back in and ask about the air pump and tire gauges - gauges are $4.99 for the cheap-o ones, so I pass and eyeball the air.  It goes right in, and hisses right out.  Blown tire.  How did we not wreck, or lose steering ability?  I know how, and God still isn't fed up.

I pull back into a good space and start pulling out the toy tire and the necessary tools - I can do this - I mean, I have a CDL.  But it's cold, I'm shaking from the caffeine and Samson had wet himself.  I refuse to accept the stupidity of the trip.  Oh, and the friend I was sorta driving up to see and surprise, well, he didn't want to see us - neigh - he refused to let us swing by.

Enter angel number one - Vincent from upstate New York, a trucker of 25 years, chatted politely and changed the tire amid talk that sounded as if we were old friends.  He asked if the kids were alright, but he also treated me as if I was completely capable of doing all this and more.  He never made me feel stupid or lost, which I was, and am sometimes.  My wallet had 3 ones and the rest twenties.  I offered a twenty and he politely refused.  It was then we exchanged names and said goodbye as if we'd see each other in church or the coffee shop or work soon.  Bless Vincent.

The iPhone directed me to the nearest Walmart, a cheap fix.  We drove 45 mph on the interstate and reached our destination-at-present in an hour.  We cleaned up in the bathroom and perused the isles, wonderfully window-shopping with only Samson thinking we were actually going to purchase more then the juice and yogurt we needed.

Where now?  Momentarily feeling completely idiotic and embarrassed, I turned again to the iPhone, which told me Hershey Pa was not too far away.  We set off, sleep really calling my name loudly.  It began raining - severely.  We arrived in Hershey and it was nothing what I pictured - my version, a sleepy town with Wonka's factory looming in the horizon, quiet, secret, mystical.  No.  This place is built around millions of roller coasters and elegant Northern mansions.  What??  The surreality overwhelms me even now.  We change in the car, blankets hung for privacy.  Parking is free, and the tour is free.  We take the tour twice because we could, and because I wasn't paying $40 to see a 3D movie about making chocolate.  Hershey employs mentally challenged people to hand out candy at the end of the tour.  Our man dug into his ear and examined his finds before handing Mercury the candy.  Priceless.  Bless the mentally challenged Hershey employee.

Re-cooperating from the experience, we plot our next destination - Gettysburg, not far.  It is a flood outside everywhere.  This is the day north Carolina was hit with those deadly tornados.  Wow.  The kids are not into history at this point.  I'm not sure why. . .

iPhone takes us into town, and we eat some pizza at a place I could have sworn was haunted, Samson prying me to ask the waitress.  I do, she says it's not, they are disappointed but not convinced as I scare them in the bathroom.  I call their dad, three hours away, but he cannot meet us because of circumstances.  I'm really beat.   Ironically questioning if I can afford a hotel room.  Could I have afforded any of this??  This excursion brought to you by restlessness, doubt, distraction and procrastination.  Why not get a $90 smoking room for the night in the middle of a place no one wants to be that it literally flooding??  We started to, then I thought we'd actually begin using some wisdom and common sense and mosey on down the highway to a cheaper spot.  I had to sleep.  I could sleep anywhere but the kids had been so incredibly good that they deserved a bed.  Mercury and I toured the battle fields until dark while the boys slept, then we headed toward the highway.  Actually, we were at the highway somehow and Mercury told me her disspointement of how she wanted to go to a train museum.  I toyed with the idea.  I didn't want to go back at all, but we had driven 9 hours north, why not?  I turned back and we found it closed.  We did get out and walked a bit, got soaked and were blessed with the warmth of our car again. . .then headed back to the highway towards a bed somewhere down there. . .

Turns out I couldn't find the road we were on earlier.  We had to take a detour.  I'm not sure I was supposed to be on the previous road at all. . .we meandered through the gorgeous country surrounding Gettysburg for an hour until well after dark and the rains were relentless.  I finally called upon the iPhone again and as I did, with my four-way flashers on at a stop sign, our second angel pulled up beside me and basically told me to follow him - through 10 washed out bridges.  He was in a Bronco.  We were in a Civic.  For anyone who doesn't know, Civics basically touch the ground and Broncos are a foot above it.  Civics lose in floods.  Our brakes got wet and went soggy, literally, with every river we crossed, but the Bronco saw us through, instinctively waiting for us after every pass.  We got to a town and suddenly there were lights and traffic - a bridge was washed out, but they were directing us through anyway.  It was a joke, as the last 10 we had crossed were multiple times worse then this one.  I was amazed and awed and incredibly blessed.  No luck there.  Maybe some temptation (Mom) but we were seen through.

We made it to a highway and I was confident that it would empty into 81.  Well. . .anyone know highway 15?  Me neither.  In the dark and squandering rain, I could tell we were in prosperous land.  Canaan.  Beautiful country from what I could tell, set off somewhere in PA and Maryland maybe, and VA, west of DC.  I stopped at a coffee shop which I judged with the help of the surroundings, but going in at 11pm on Saturday night, I found 2 teenage boys singing their hearts out to the Beatles and Led Zepplin, some absolutely intriguing art on the walls talking about the segregation women felt in the Old Testament, whoa!  Samson came in with me while the others slept, doors locked and me standing outside while my mocha was borne, watching intently as no one neared or even stirred outside.  More surreality.
Deja Brew.  That's not my words, that's the name of the place, somewhere in Maryland or Va, west of DC.

I decide to confer with the iPhone, and it tells me I'm close to 66.  Way off route, but I know 66 well, so we truck on down and meet 81, my nearest friend.  I stop when I feel I can't go anymore but the prices tell me I can go just a bit further.  I stop at a place where my mom had met us years ago when I lived in NJ and met her halfway, I was pregnant and hadn't known it at the time and was very ill (with Samson). I knew it was cheap because my mom is, well - not cheap - but thrifty.  The front desk man gave me a 35% discount.  Bless that Days Inn front desk man.

We slept.  I slept.  We had breakfast and learned of the deadly tornados and said some prayers for those folks.

We got home.

It was beautiful.

Did we change the world, or even another person?  Probably not.  But we rallied our independence and also dependence on God's blessing enough to know even if I make some pretty radically stupid decisions, that if our hearts, my heart, is in the right place, pure and intentionally good, well, what will be will be.  I learned so much.  what a silly way to be taught, but it's just my style.  If anything, it served to solidify the idea of taking off on a bus for 14 months with three kids and no money in order to help others as an idea of high standards and a blessed gift of wisdom.  And knowing that my kids are cool with that sort of thing.  We (my family) learn through some wild madness the gifts that are. . .

Getting to know - Samson Ninja

I now have an iphone - the older one, 3g, refurbished - but props to Jill for hooking us up with slightly more technology and options then I'm ready for. . .my friend John is always talking about how ridiculous 33 flavors of ice cream is - how are we supposed to make choices when you're constantly doubting the one flavor you happened to chose?  Why not try them all?  The iphone and all the capabilities is like 33 million flavors.  I'm gonna try most of them and yes, I know I'm gonna be sick. . .

Here's an intro to Samson in his natural environment.

The rain comes down

The kids' paternal grandmother - Jill (my mother-in-law always) has been here from New Jersey since Saturday.  It's been a vacation.

I have to make the decision to make this work.  Fumbling in the rain, in the dark, with nothing in my hands, but needing to draw on some slippery stock - believing with enough blessing, ingenuity, wisdom and patience that I can figure this out.

For now I'm still on vacation, and I'm dragging it out all the way up until tomorrow afternoon when Jill leaves, going as far as staying up half the night just because.  Just because if I stay up I can have more vacation.

Transitory

One lovely, humbling aspect of the venture I'm going with here, the insight I give up here, and the insight I gain by making myself keep up with this blog (at least) is this - I am completely admitting I'm in a constant transition - from what I am pretty sure of, into what, I'm not clear at all on -

I have come a long way, as I hope most of have, but a long way from where I need to be in order to feel out of others' hair, prayer lists, charitable causes, concerns, hassles. . . get it?  Not that any of those things are necessarily bad or inhibiting, but most of us need someone else to count on that doesn't need 5 other people to count on.  So many times have I been called to help some one, some project, attend some journey, travel some distance - I mean, convicted to do something, but in order to do that one thing I would have to enlist several others to help with the kids and appointments, finances, etc.  Seemed pointless to me - surely someone with not so much 'baggage' would come take my place.

And they always have - wonderfully cooperative couples who worked in perfect symbiotic flow, enthusiastic college kids who are surprisingly labeled 'poor' (I experienced poverty as a college student myself, and it didn't translate. . .), the elders who have seen it all and come 180 and are giving it back . . .

I would quietly retreat, defeated and feeling meaningless in my purpose, or perhaps my purpose is just to give those who need to help, purpose.  I am the ultimate widow, orphan, the poor, the cold, the hungry, the meek, the rejected, the imprisoned. . . yes, I was the epitome of weakness, the receiver of love. . . or rather, humbly accepted that position as my position - my place in life.

It's feeling like it may kill me, or drastically perturb my blood sugar and general appearance, but I am being there for others now, in whatever way I can.  I still need others, though.

As I'm sitting in my backyard, the warm spring wind quickening, telling rumors of a storm close behind, the spring peepers are coming out. . . the sighs post-news rustling in the tops of the pines. . . gentle plinks and tings of the wind chimes across the violet-padded lawn, the smells of lilac, rain in the air, grass - well, I hope I can be at least one of these simple things to someone - what the spring, the earth, this absolutely incredulous creation under my feet - what it gives me constantly, I want to be that same thing to the world.  Just a simple something, a part of a giant picture of tiny dots, an impressionistic rendering of a life of love - I strive to be a green dot somewhere in the budding leaves. . .

Here's the poetic point I'm dying to admit - I am a vessel that has been bought and guaranteed to hold many things for awhile without leaking or bubbling too much, then process those things and create a nutrient-rich product to be taken from freely.  I'm describing fermentation for those sauerkraut and kefir geeks.  For fermented veggies you put a bunch of veggies in a crock and let it sit and basically sour/rot.  Then you have some potent, healing food - but wise women (and men) take a little of the fermented food (yogurt, kefir, sourdough, veggies) and use it as a starter for even more. . . once the process is begun, with proper care, it will be a related chain of super-foods for an endless time.

I am the vessel that holds all the fresh ingredients - all I do is allow it all to sit quietly, inside me, my head, my heart, then when it has changed and homogenized and become even more nutritious by the power of combining and time, I will share with anyone hungry.

I'm pretty empty now - of knowledge, experience, I don't claim to know anything much save for the convictions and attraction and opinions on community.

Instead of studying others, arriving into these working communities armed with book smarts and no living or even visiting experience - judging, comparing, engaging hopefully impressive conversations about the qualities of historic lasting groups - well, this seems to be a good place for the practice of emptiness, eh?

Everything is Ok

I have been thinking about getting a megaphone for a long time.  Maybe this can be my service.  This is the ending thought of the day.