a week of endings. a time for fresh starts.

Yesterday I said goodbye to Rochester, NY as we drove south on 390. I am sitting at my key board desperately trying to find a way to blog about this goodbye, and all the ones it included, and the new things I anticipate for my life here in Richmond. I know how important taking the time to reflect and mark life changes is - I have certainly done it often enough - but today I am struggling to find the energy, the thoughts, the brain power, etc. In someways it feels as if the transition has not been fully realized, my spirit is convinced that because there is nothing immediate to look forward to (I don't have work and am trying to give myself space for R&R before being too intense in the job search) that I am on furlough, vacation, a visit, etc and nothing ceremonious has taken place. Maybe the realization that MVS is over, that Richmond is now home, that life is moving on, will happen gradually. 

Regardless if my spirit realizes it yet, my time in serving with mennonite voluntary service in the flower city is officially over. I have said farewells to church, to JPC, to friends, and have moved all my worldly belongs (minus a toothbrush that I forgot) to Richmond VA. If you want to continue to follow my adventures, I'd encourage you to look for them at bekah-anovel.blogspot.com. 

how to say good bye

I am in count down mode again. 8 sleeps in my place in Rochester - 7 sleeps til I get to see Matt again. 5 days left at work. 1 Sunday at Rochester Mennonite Fellowship. 1 more trip to the Laundromat. Maybe 3 or 4 more trips to the Y. 1 last Monday night workshop with my clients. Etc.

The last few weeks have been fairly full  - there was a Saturday full of exploring waterfalls around Seneca Lake, an evening with the Pettigrews and a woman's professional soccer game, a lesson in how to cook Ethiopian food, one last Veronica Mars night with Holly, one last tea date with Jen and dinner with Rachel and breakfast with Kathy, a folk concert on the grass to close our weekly book club/small group times, a birthday party at the park for a friend from church, morning trips to the Y, finishing up with clients at work, starting the packing and year-end apartment cleaning, a closing interview with Roger and Sonya, etc.

I'm not very good at the good byes. I've already said a few to people from church who wont be around this weekend and they have felt somewhat empty - without ceremony and missing in context. I can't quite believe that my time here is over when the day to day goes on much as usual until the very end. It is odd to move on from a place like this - I miss the change in routine as things come to a close, the packing up of a home, the ceremonies and the golden stars. I know there will be ceremony to the next week - a few good byes parties with church folks, clients, and staff at JPC - and I hope that will fill my need for a closing ritual. I have the urge to visit each meaningful spot a last time - but I don't want to draw out the nostalgia.

And then there is the confusion on what I am looking forward to: a move to Richmond with no clearly defined edges. There is no job, no end date, no program to guide me in what to prepare for - just as much time and space and work and play as I want to create for myself. A step into the unknown.

some poetry I've been working on this year

an evening with the stuckey's 

in snow or shine, in wind or hail
we make the drive, it never fails
the blond boys smile with their sweet blue eyes
and their playful grins - suspicious allies.

a game of candy land or racing track
before the food is made, the table set.
grace is sung and we bow our heads
blessing aaron's chili or rachel's bread.

its all to watch the heroes battle
(fast forward through the commercials prattle)
agent handsome and sky's affair
hydro's comeback and shield's despair

to wait on a train

i pace. i sit. i try to read, glancing at the clock.
the minutes pass - crawling by
yet the arrival time blinking on the computer screen moves further away
there are always delays.

there was snow once.
bellowing gusts of white encompass the tracks, the landscape, the sky
waiting to be illuminated by the light of an approaching train.
like a dream - idyllic really.
my heart, just as frozen as the snowdrifts,
waiting to be thawed by the first embrace from the man on the train.
the building excitement as a whistle blows only to be disappointed by the approaching freight.

or the moments i stare out the window.
slowly watching the scenery change as I go south.
trying to enjoy the journey but filled with too much anticipation,
somewhat nervous that my imagination has gotten the better of me and this is all an illusion.

we text longings to each other.
"so soon"
"almost there"
"can't wait" - our keypads say.
i wonder if we are deluding ourselves. but how else to pass the time?

and then there are the mornings.
we sit awaiting the sunrise and the deafening sound of the horn that will separate us one more time. trying to say goodbye. trying to remember that all will be well.

is it worth it - this waiting on a train?
bank account balances dwindling as we make one more trip. trying to maintain this wonderful beautiful thing between us.
is it worth it - this waiting on a train?
we just don't know yet.

I sit here, sun soaked with sand still lingering in my scalp. I love summer.
Sweet tea, potato salad, fresh garden veggies, daylight, warmth. So many good things.

And the past few weeks have been wonderful.
A potato salad and grilled chicken birthday dinner and flowers at work to celebrate a new year of life.
Another visit from Matt.
A long weekend visit to Ontario that included so much good wonderful:
seeing Hannah and Laura's workplaces and learning i love radish greens; yummy yummy homemade burgers; winning at epic duels (that might be a first); exploring the Toronto and enjoying the wonderful music at the Urban Roots Festival; walking a chicken on a leash and painting a chicken coop; poetry slam at the park; a campfire and Grower's cider; not enough time with my siblings.
A schedule I am proud off filled with reading, gardening, walking, yoga, morning adventures, and even some baking (and attempts at poetry writing!)
Feeling successful at work at looking forward to moving on in 25 business days.

Today we took an adventure to the beach, tomorrow we should explore the Cobbs Hill Festival. We've got adventures planed most weekends from here out and I'm starting to think about saying goodbyes. I'm hoping for a good last five weeks yet to come.

the end of 22

Here I sit on the brink of turning 23. Drinking cold water with lemon and mint fresh from our garden. Rocking out to my favorite Pandora station. And waiting for the potatoes to cool for my birthday potato salad. This past year of my life - the year of being 22 - has been one of growing up, of taking ownership for myself and my experiences - and I've celebrated the end of that year this weekend by spending a lot of time in the kitchen making my favorite goodies. I've gotten to this point slowly, building up the cooking/baking projects slowly. But this weekend I went all out - birthday cake with lemon icing, boiled carrots with onion and garlic for snack food/lunches, my second summer batch of rollkuchen, sweet tea, and now my very favorite summer food - potato salad. (I've also been chewing on scallions all weekend because the thrifty Mennonite in me bought two bunches for $1 at the market and now have the most delicious onion breath :P)
I enjoy that my birthday falls in the summer months - it has always been a good way to divide time between old adventures and new opportunities. Summers have always made me feel alive. And that makes it easier to reflect.
I will remember 22 as the year I did MVS and lived in Rochester. The year I learned to travel by train and drive long distance (okay 3 1/2 hours) by myself in a vehicle. I said good bye to my parents again (this time as they went off to Lebenon) and left Winnipeg for good. The year I had only one home (in Rochester) and visited my loved ones from that base. The year I learned to live in an apartment without the social support network I took for granted in my family and at EMU. The year I learned to make phone calls without dread (or too much dread) - and probably sowed the seeds for ear or brain cancer from all my conversations with loved ones across the continent and the world.
Where I made my own choices. I planted my first garden on my own. I took ownership of my depression during the winter. I got sick on my own and learned how to rinse my own hair and mouth out after puking in the toilet (I hate it by the way). When I had to shovel out a the car - more than once. My first 9-5 job for more than a summer break. I explored a new state - a whole lot. I fell in love with a church. I forgot to write. I educated myself about 90's geek television. I learned to slay vampires. I saw one of the world wonders for the second time - this time covered in ice (Niagara Falls). I learned to buy vegetables (instead of finding them in dumpsters) and use natural, local soaps. I had solo dance parties.
A year in which I had no fresh seafood. I didn't see the West Coast of put my foot in an ocean. I didn't do any skinny dipping. I also didn't break any bones need to go to the doctor(at least yet). But I kept my toes painted and got a Y membership. Learned that I like yoga and actually enjoy working out. Enjoyed walking 3 miles to work and learned to drive on freeways. Got to many catcalls and learnd some inner city slang. I thinking I grew a tougher skin but I'm not sure of that. For the first time in 18 years, I did not go to school.
It has been a good year. But I am glad it's almost over! Here's to becoming 23.

Dream time

We've been reading "holy play" by Kirk Byron Jones for our book club. Jones' thesis is that we are co-creators with God when it comes to developing our purpose and vocational calling. While not my favorite book we have read this  year, I am appreciating Jones' challenge to accept purpose as an open ended invitation, to dream and to be creative and explore my calling(s). One challenge for me is knowing what I am passionate about (there are so many things I could be 'called' to) and so I have taken to reflecting on Jones' questions about what I would do if there was no pressure to accomplish or achieve something - and I have taken the space to dream answers to these questions in the mornings between my workout at the Y and starting my day at JPC while taking walks.

This time I was joined by a family of geese on the bay

Twice last week I walked the 3 miles from the YMCA to work (about an hour) and let my mind wander free to explore the possibilities of hopes, dreams, desires, wishes, and make believe. And on the morning when I had the unexpected gift of the car (Ket missed the bus that day and so drove to her Pilate class) I explored Irondequoit Bay Park again.

I've been amazed by the imaginings and dreams I have had, though I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. I want to go back to school. I also want to explore what law could look like for me - what would it mean to combine a masters in sociology, a law degree, and mediation training? I intrigued by small practice. I'm excited by dreams of living in a small community, of being present in my community, of being a regular at a local farmer's market and food coop, of having a garden, a goat(or maybe a miniature cow?) and a few chickens.

Some "creative outlet" with Holly and Ket at Color Me Mine

I'm slowly considering how to live into those dreams. I know one of my goals for the fall will be studying for the LSATs and/or GRE. I am excited to live in community with a midwife, a puppy, and two cats starting mid August. I am still looking for work, but am hoping for something alternative or part time - maybe in a small law office to get some practical experience. And for now I am content to explore Rochester more, to keep having my dream time, to grow my own garden this summer, and to finish well in the 10 weeks I have left here.

hello June

Summer comes fast. I expected this, but it still hits me by surprise that spring is followed so speedily by summer. Winter seems to take forever to end, but once spring has its hold it rushes onto summer without pausing long enough to get a breath. Life in it's extravagance, that is the story of spring moving to summer. I remember when the red of the tulip seemed extravagant only a month ago. And now the world is green and the sun is warm and I'm flaunting all my favorite skirts, dresses, and tank tops again - not to mention a delightful chaco tan.
Memorial Day has come and gone (and with it a visit from Tania, renewing my geek cred by re-watching all of Firefly/Serinity again and learning to enjoy Star Trek, also a sick day where I lay in bed praying not to - but hoping I would - regurgitate the sparse contents of my stomach), my kale has sprouted, and it's the first day of June.
In three weeks I'll turn 23. That's exciting. I should buy some fruit-loops to celebrate - the cereal I always associate with the summer and with birthdays. It's not a "special" year, but it means another marking of time passing, of brain maturing, of Bekah discovering who she is and what adventures to take, of remembering who she has been and who she might become. (This weekend I'm reminiscing about IB exams 5 years ago- how much fun they were, how I loved being challenged, and how I miss learning and proving myself academically).

Goals for the month of June:
Baking some Rollkuchen
Keeping a pitcher of tea in the fridge (so delicious and refreshing!)
Painting some pottery and writing some reflections as thank yous and good byes
Weeding
Walking
Writing

who said adventures are just for weekends?

This week I've been experimenting with the bus again. Reading and discussing Living More With Less has reminded me to be intentional with things like transportation, technology, and food. And so I challenged myself to take the bus, instead of drive, to work on the days I was able. It meant getting up before 6 on Tuesday so that I could (theoretically) get to my yoga class at 6:30 (theoretically because the bus was either early or very tardy and thus I missed the first 10 minutes of my 45 minute yoga class).  It meant running into a client after yoga as I walked to catch my next bus to work. It meant spending more time with my boss when she insisted on driving me part or all the way home. 

West Irondequoit Bay Park

And it also meant that when I took the car to work yesterday I decided to take advantage of the freedom having a vehicle provided and went exploring between yoga and work. I visited a park where one of my clients told me he likes to fish. It's only a few miles from my work but somewhere I had never been before. It was so beautiful - filled with greenery and bird song with the foggy bay off in the distance. And I was giddy from the adventure and unexpectedness of it  - I couldn't help thinking that I was cheating on life by having an adventure in the morning before a busy day at work instead of waiting until the evening or the weekend to explore. I treasured the moments in the fog, the flowers, the birds, and even the swan I saw swimming on the bay. And the fifteen minute adventure brightened my whole day.  

I was joined on my adventure by a swan

Some other adventures I've had recently:
- sewing a colorful, African, patch onto an old pair of jeans
- baking bread - that finally turned out!
- daily watering and caring for the garden
- learning to make sweet tea!
- cleaning and re-arranging Fishy's tank
- packing up some stuff to send to VA with Tania

where i'm at today

I have five tomato plants in my front yard. I have dirt under my fingernails. I have a 3 week old sunburn that faded to a tan on my shoulders. I have the beginnings of my chaco tan on my feet. I'm snacking on Wasabi pees and string cheese. My no longer reaches the top of my shoulders (but it still goes back into a ponnytail). There is an apple cake in the oven and sweet tea cooling the fridge. My feet are dirty and my soul is well.

Some of the highlights of the past month: 

- a 10 day trip to Virginia to spend time with Matt, play games board games almost every night, visit my soul-friends at the tree house in Harrisonburg and keep building my friendships in Richmond, see dear friends graduate from EMU, eat Clines ice cream, get a sun burn, and experience the hope of spring before the buds started poking out here in Rochester

- watching the transformation to spring here in Rochester and feeling the lightening of my heart as the days continue to be long and warm and the world turns green

- supporting the Ban the Box initiative that would provide my clients an opportunity to compete for employment based on their qualifications (see more about Ban the Box here ) 

- getting rained on at the Lilac Festival! 

- playing games and talking politics at the RMF games and junk food night

- watching the season finale of Marvel's Agents of SHIELD with the Stuckeys 

- reading and discussing "Living More With Less" with wonderful women from Rochester Mennonite Fellowship

- shopping at the public market for vegetables, bread, and occasionally an Easter Lily

- planting the lily, along with the tomatoes, mints, some basil, mums, a rose, morning glory, kale, etc in our small yard

- exploring Wayne County yesterday with Ket - getting free gifts, free snacks, and new sandals

- network about possible housing/employment opportunities for  when I move to Richmond

some of my goals for the three remaining months of MVS:   

- keep the garden alive and harvest my own tomatoes! 

- see a few more festivals

- be creative - and create thank you gifts for those who have supported me

- stay committed and supportive for my work and my clients 

- continue to grow relationships with people at RMF 

- walk and walk and walk

- not worry too much about the details of moving 

- read lots

Reflections on Siberian Squill

Flowers. My first sighting this year. Popping up out of the grass with their blue petals and pale yellow, almost white, centers. The Bee and I are enjoying Sunday School under the cherry tree. The clouds are getting heavier, but the warmth persists. The second day I've been able to wear my chacos.
"The world has been put right," shouts my soul. But part of my recognizes that it is passion week.
Palm Sunday is filled with triumph. "Salvation has come at last," we think. "Hosanna! Save us now!"
But we anticipate too quickly. There is a week of pain, of betrayal, of misunderstandings and misinterpreted prophesies to come. There is heart break and despair. We must walk the valley of the shadow of death to find salvation.

 (Salvation, that is something more complete than we could ever imagine. A victory so creative, so divine, that we can attempt to understand it only in retrospect. A resurrection when we only expected a renewal. For resurrection you need death. For inspiration, despair. Is that the truth of it all? or is that only the truth as a 4 would see it?)

I know the cold is coming back this week. I know it might yet snow again. But today I am thankful for Barbara Kingsolver, Doris Jazen Longacre, Anne Dillard. Prophets that have called me to pay attention to today, to attend to the present, to be with the siberian squill, to allow the hope of palm Sunday to permeate my soul, and to let myself digest this moment before rushing on to the next.

Spring in Rochester?

The winter here has been long and dreary, but today it looks like a few daring trees are starting to put forth buds. I was picking up some of the litter from our front yard this afternoon and even found some green buds growing in the pile of branches that have been sitting in the corner of the yard since our clean up day last fall. This mornings service focused on the stories if Lazarus and the dry bones of Ezekiel. 

Seeing what I had taken to be dead branches sprout new growth resonates with my soul. I dug my fingers into the dirt. Cut budding branches from a tree and pulled some budding ones from the pile on the lawn. Filled vases with rocks and water. And placed my "easter trees" around the apartment. 

I too have felt a lightening of my spirit as the day light increases and the weather warms. New life flowing through my body and spirit again, just as the trees show signs of the life they are about to burst into. I am trying to pay attention to the transformation taking place around and within me. Watching spring spring forth as it were. Living into the narrative of resurrection as it is revealed each day. 

March - with maybe an tadbit of madnesss

March is disappearing fast. And spring has arrived - at least nominally. The past few weeks have felt quiet; mostly introspective and introvert time.

A few weeks ago Ket and I drove to the mountains in Vermont for a retreat.
5 hours in the car (each way) to think, breathe, and let the beauty of the mountains sink into me. I am truly a mountain girl - I had almost forgotten that this year. Growing up on the west coast, and spending four years in the Shenandoah valley, I should have remembered that bit about myself.  But I guess we endure where we are, forgetting what it is like to glow until we are reminded again. Being in the mountains again was a balm for my soul, a comfort I felt deep inside, and being on the ski slopes the next day brought a lightness to my spirit that I haven't felt in months. Hannah Shelly (our host and my ski buddy) joked that this was "retreaty" enough for an MVS retreat because we were finding God on the slopes - I wholeheartedly agree with that bit of banter.
Ket and I also had a day to relax, away from our computers, our work worries, and our plans for next year to read, laugh, and spend time together. It has wonderful. I read "The Red Tent" and remembered how convicted I can be by woman's lore, midwifes tales, and holistic, rhythmic approaches to living. I was also able to reflect on how thankful I am for the past 7 months with MVS and what I'm looking forward to in August when I will be setting my own course again. I came home thoughtful and refreshed.

Since getting back my life has been filled with questions of purpose, skype time with family and friends far away, and stories about demon fighting, vampires with souls, good vs. evil, and avoiding the impending apocalypse - again and again. I have been engrossed in the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel - both created by the scifi director Joss Whedon in the late 1990's - early 2000's. This isn't exactly something I am proud of, but the character development, large ethical questions, and quest for purpose that perforates these television shows has been inspiring for me. As long as I am also living away from my computer screen, I hope that Buffy and Angel are not too damaging for my psyche.

I'm still hoping for spring. We get glimpses of it every so often, so I do believe it will eventually show up - if much later than I would like. Yesterday I had to be at a re-entry conference at the local college and so I took advantage of the above freezing temperatures to walk the mile into town. It was nice to be outside (if a little chilly still) and to be apart of the city in a way that I miss when I am only driving through town to work. The 4 cars that honked at me on my walk in were also a nice wake up call to what the privilege of driving provides me.

Ashes to Ashes

A circle gathered in the semi-dark, focusing inward. Faces lit by the glow of flickering candle light, hymnals resting loosely in laps or held at awkward angels to catch the light's reflection on their white pages. Some squint to read the stanza of texts interspersed by staffs of music. Others read easily, oblivious to the privilege of their youth and unfailing eyesight.

The city outside is covered in fresh fallen snow. March has come - but in place of hope for spring it brings a continuance of winters unrelenting cold and silence. Despair continues unchecked in the lives of my clients, stories of homelessness, of hopelessness, of lost bus passes, and disappointing job searches. The world continues on its path of war - in Syria, in Ukraine. 

Together, we have gathered from our busy lives to mark a sacred, ancient season. In the darkness all surrounding, we turn towards the light. Recognizing despair, honoring mortality, together we hold out hope for a narrative of transformation. We open the season of lent - forty days of penance, of prayer, of preparation for the work of God among us: 

slowly turning, ever turning from our lovelessness like ice, 

from our unforgiving spirit, from the grip of envy's vise,

slowly turning, ever turning toward the lavish life of spring, 

toward the word of warmth and pardon, toward the mercy welcoming!

slowly turning, ever turning from our egocentered gaze,

from our self-enclosing circle, from our narrow, petty ways,

slowly turning, ever turning toward the foreigner as friend, 

toward the city without gheto, toward the greatness without end!

  slowly turning, ever turning from our fear of death and loss, 

from our terror or the darkness, from our scorning of the cross,

slowly turning, ever turning toward the true and faithful one, 

toward the light of day-break dawning, toward the phoenix risen sun!

A circle gathered in the semi-dark, sending us out into the world. Hymnals dancing for a moment in candle light as they are placed back on the shelves. Saying our goodbyes we turn towards the door with ashes on our foreheads. Bearing the mark of our mortality, I walk out into the cold - filled with hope.  

to create

I once said that to exist is not enough for me, I must leave a witness. I must make note. I must reflect. And I must write. I have not done much of this recently.

A year ago, a fellow honors student of mine reflected on consumption vs. creation. On the circle of life. On maintaining a balance between destructive and productive energies. I have forgotten to create lately.

Weirwood was to give me a place to reflect. When naming my new laptop, I chose the imagery of the god tree of Westors, of the sacred, ancient, living connection to the old gods that live in and witness to all, as a way of inspiring me. A name is a powerful thing – the claiming of an identity, the becoming of a reality, the defining of a purpose. I dreamed of using Weirwood to connect, to reflect, to learn, to pray, and to grow. To be a witness to life, and allow me space to create meaning for my experiences. Instead I have used my laptop to access the stimulus of information and entertainment available to me in the modern age. I have not used her much to create – but to consume. Netflix, Facebook, Imgur, Comics, etc. I have forgotten her name and the purpose for which I purchased her. I have used her as a distraction – granting me access to the idols and false gods that distract and detract from my breathing, living, blushing experience.

Fishy is staring at me as I write this. The golden/orange animal has positioned himself in a corner of the tank directly across the table from me. He flaps his tail to stay in position as his beady eyes stare directly into mine. I wonder if he is curious - curious maybe about why his silence is interrupted in the middle of the day, about why I sit here with a cup of tea (earl gray – good writing tea) and stare back at him, about why I struggle to put fingers to keys, why I struggle to create. Fishy is witness to my rapid key strokes, my pauses, my frowns and smiles. He is witness to my attempt to create. Some part of me wonders that if by his witness Fishy makes these efforts count, these strokes make music, this post make meaning. That by being seen, my attempts become worthy. But maybe fishy is not looking at me at all. Maybe he's only fascinated by his reflection in the glass.

There is something to be learned from this interaction with Fishy, even if it is only one-sided. Especially if he is only fascinated with the glass. Without a witness, I continue to exist. I need not publish this ramble of thoughts for them to hold value. Creation needs no witness to be beautiful and awe-inspirng. Bekah simply is.

Winter isn't over yet

We were in the upper 40s last week. We might even have reached 50 degrees. I saw green grass and went outside without a winter coat. And so you can imagine my heart ache as I looked out my office window this morning to see snow flurries. I knew the cold was coming back - I even heard it directly from the meteorologist on the evening news last week while checking out our new laundromat (Closer, less sketchy, actually has heat and working machines, and has blooming flower pots for only 25 cents more). And so I'm kicking myself for not taking more advantage of the brief respite from cold and snow. Oh well... I guess I'll have to leave the rest of my skirts in the closet until spring comes back (Ket says another 8 weeks... but I hope she's lying). And keep dreaming about the day chacos can breath again.

Meanwhile life goes on much as usual in Rochester MVS. Work is busy, challenging, fulfilling, discouraging, stressful, hopeful, depressing, etc. My clients and coworkers continue to frustrate and inspire me. Ket and I continue to follow our routine of work, laundry nights, drinking lots of tea, buying groceries, going to church, etc.

We've also continue to have a few adventures - most recently a very cold but beautiful trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario with Matt last weekend (this was before the brief warm spell). Despite the cold we enjoyed the breathtaking view of the falls and even got a taste of summer at the butterfly conservatory.

We recently got a Y membership, so I have been experimenting with getting up before the sun once again to go workout before work and come home with sore legs. There is a yoga class on Tuesday and Thursday mornings that I am loving. There is also a Zumba class on Saturday that I suffered through and think I may continue to subject myself to with the hope that I can in fact teach my Mennonite hips to dance to pop music. I am enjoying splashing through chlorinated water and the fact that showering at the Y seems to make my hair softer than it was when I showered at home (not harsher from the chlorine as anticipated). I hope the exercise helps me to find renewal and energy as I wait for the flowers to bloom and the sun to warm my soul.

I am also asking plenty of identity questions and feeling more and more lost. I'm struggling with what I want/need for now and in six months when I leave MVS. I wonder what I will do with myself and where in the world I will plant myself.  I'm hoping I can learn to know myself again, because sometimes I feel I have forgotten Bekah somewhere in the mess of surviving life.

And I am also falling more in love with Rochester Mennonite Fellowship and the wonderful people who fellowship there. I am amazingly thankful for the fellowshippers (:P) I have gotten to know over the last six months. For their strength, their vulnerability, and their encouragement and support of each other and of me as we struggle to follow God together and in our own lives. I am looking forward to the season of lent to ask questions, to ponder life together, and to prepare for the narrative or resurrection.

January - and a trip down south.

I struggle in the winter months. The dark, the cold, the lifelessness - they drain the life out of me. I know this about myself, have known it since highschool when I self diagnosed with SAD (seasonal affect disorder). And so I have spent a lot of January in hibernation - sitting on the couch with knitting and netflix, drinking hot chocolate, and waiting for the days to lengthen and sun to warm the earth so I can be outside and find joy again. I have felt myself be less and less genuine as more and more energy goes into maintaining the status quo. I have felt the lack of snuggles and cuddles and simple touch. I have been less motivated to do extra, to reflect, to dream, to grow. It has not been bad, it simply has not been easy and I have given myself the space to hibernate. I gave up judging myself for my lack of motivation and persevered through each day as it came along. My morning prayer was to love my clients this day, to be patient with my clients and coworkers this day, or even to get through this day until I could retire for the night and sleep.

Given my struggle with winter in Rochester, this past weekend was amazing.

I got to be in 50 degree weather. I got to see mountains. I got to snuggle and cuddle to my hearts content. and I got to rest with people who know the heart of me. I was given the gift of being genuine without exerting effort.

I had the opportunity this past weekend to be in Harrisonburg for the Inter-Collegiate Peace Fellowship conference at EMU. I was sent on behalf of MMN as a recruiter for MVS, which gave me the incentive to talk a lot about what MVS in Rochester has meant to me over the past 5 months. It was good to reflect and share - and to remember that this experience is wonderful. To be encouraged by the challenges and opportunities. To remember all that I have learned and experience. And to encourage others to think about the possibility of MVS as well.

While there I had the pleasure of staying with the Treehouse, a place I have stayed each time I visited Harrisonburg since graduation, and reconnect with parts of my soul that reside in those wonderful people. I also had the gift of connecting my EMU soul mates with my sister, who was also in town for the conference, and seeing her again after only a month of separation. And of course I had the space to Matt and interact with him surrounded by my sister and friends - all things that do not happen enough.

As I was with these people and in this place I felt my internal battery charging as the tension dripped away from me. I hope I have returned to Rochester more genuine than I left it. I know winter is not over here, as it almost is down south, and that there will be at least a month left of cold and dreariness. I am prepared to perhaps spend lots of it on the couch in hibernation. But this weekend I was reminded that sometimes it is easy to be me, and that maybe it will be that way again here in Rochester - or where ever I go next.

More than four months

It's January. It's 2014. But I'm having a hard time believing in this thing called "the new year."

"new year" denotes change, it names transitions and beginnings, etc. January 2014 isn't bringing very many of those. My transitions and beginnings happen in August - when a new school year/semester starts, when I began my term with MVS, etc. 2014 means i need to pay attention when writing the date at work, but it hasn't brought any radical shifts - and that is hard to adjust to. 

it's almost shocking that there is no external change to rejuvenate and inspire me.  i've been on a students schedule for awhile. i'm used to things changing, to having new beginnings, new focuses, new things to learn, etc, every 4 months. it is hard to realize that four months have passed, the Christmas holidays and new year have come, and life in MVS goes on as normal - work isn't going to change much, my church and community remain the same, etc. 

i guess it isn't that radical for most people to not have a "new" every four months. maybe part of growing up is learning to infuse "new" into the ordinary. to find ways to inspire the routine. to rejuvenate the self. that's something i'm going to have to work on. maybe that's what resolutions are about. 

i went to ontario for Christmas. it was wonderful to be with siblings and aunt chris. to chill with people i could simply be around. we baked. we laughed. we argued. we ate. we walked to church in the middle of the night. we sang. we skyped the 'rents. we skied. we fed the chickens. it was life. 

and then i had a week alone in my apartment here in Rochester while Ket visited with family in Ohio. i fed the fist and watered the christmas tree. i watched buffy. i shoveled snow. i cooked food that i love - just for me. i practiced yoga in the living room. i rested my ambitions. i reflected on imagery of light and awaited the epiphany. 

and now the break is over. i am back at work 5 days a week. my roommate has returned. life is back in full swing. actually, life is in danger of returning to the same swing it was on in December if i'm not careful. and i that's where resolutions come in - ways of invigorating my remaining 7 1/2 months with a taste of the "new". 

i'm looking forward to volunteering with healthy sisters - a local nonprofit that works with chronically unemployed women and makes awesome soup. i'm enjoying my new morning yoga routine. i'm excited about studying for the GRE or LSAT (i'm excited about deciding which one i should take....), i'm loving the new book we are reading for book club (the new jim crow, mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness), i'm anxiously watching days get longer and anticipating the possibilities of evenings spent outside again, i'm still looking for ways to be present here while i dream and discern what happens when this year does end (in August that is) and another "new year" will begin in earnest.