By the time Thursday comes around in my week, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. Tuesday and Wednesday wipe me out. Especially Wednesdays like yesterday.
Stevie likened it to a series of unfortunate events. It was rough.
Children's camp was chaos. My group was bouncing off the walls, wouldn't listen, were mean to each other. I wanted to scream. Stevie's group was the same. I'm glad that the tour Jimmy was giving came in the last twenty minutes after the ten minute lecture Stevie gave them about respect. They appeared well behaved when we played games. I just don't ever remember being that mean to other kids or disrespecting my teachers like that. Totally different baggage to deal with here.
Speaking of baggage, the youth camp was even more frustrating. I can't get anyone to do anything. Playing games with them is like pulling teeth. Getting them to strike a frozen image of sadness is like asking them to jump off a building. Asking them to stand up is like trying to move an elephant. And each group did mini snapshots of their work so far. All of the other groups are way farther than we are, and they were embarrassed. But if they don't want to do anything during our work sessions, they can't expect us to be much of a competition to the others. Maybe after seeing the cool stuff the other groups were doing a fire will be set under them.
I've never had to deal with this kind of stuff, and it is so hard. As soon as the kids walked out of the room, Stevie asked me how it went, and I just started bawling. Then I cried when I got home while my roommates were gone. Then Ranya, another intern who works with the youth every day and is helping the poetry group, only had to say, "I understand," and I was crying again. Is this what teaching is going to be like for me? Coming home every day crying? Lord, I hope not. It's exhausting.
My evening got better after that. Stevie called me and asked me to be on an 8 minute TV segment on "What's Up Central Texas," to promote We Ain't the Huxtables. We got lost getting there, his phone died, so we went to a gas station and he charged it enough to call them and get directions. The segment was just one take, so it's nice and embarrassing. I felt like I sat there and smiled the whole time. But it was fun.
Then we went to the mall, wandered around for a bit. I treated myself to a pair of earrings for $1.50. Retail therapy at its cheapest, which means its best. And then my roommates dyed my hair with cool-aid. After a terrible night's sleep with my head wrapped in saran wrap, I am strawberry blonde for the next couple of days. Black cherry didn't turn as dark as I expected, but it still looks pretty cool to me. And it still smells good.
This weekend is our recovery weekend off. Friday we have the day off and are planning on doing some shopping in all the funky little shops we can find here in Waco. Then Saturday we are going to Austin for the day. We are escaping, which we are all very excited about. Today is research, clothing store, rehearsal, and Harry Potter 3. Sounds much less stressful.
Until next time, hope in the Lord, He will restore your strength and mine.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wisdom and Snickers
Another mostly successful day at the Jubilee Theatre. I'm exhausted, so I guess that's a good indicator of a long day's hard work.
My personal devotions this week are happening in the first three chapters of Ephesians. Today was the second half of chapter one. I began my day asking for the Spirit of Wisdom. At times I think I used that spiritual gift -- other times, not so much. But it was a good direction for my day. It's still written in purple on my wrist.
At children's theatre camp, found out it may not be appropriate to have Thomas Jefferson poison Martha's first husband with cookies so that he can be with her. Sounds like the key points to a romantic comedy to me. The husband has to die somehow, otherwise how would she become a widow? I guess a rewrite will happen before next week's filming starts...
At youth theatre camp, found out that sometimes it is really, really hard for younger teens to put themselves into a character's head. I don't know how many times I told them, "Think like your character. How did they get to this point in their lives? What made them act this way?" Some of them thrived when we started writing poems. Some did not. I'll have some prompting and revising to do before next week. But a lot of what was started was really, really great. I'm so excited. Plus, I think we're going to do some work with shadow images. That's exciting!
At rehearsal, found out that lack of energy is contagious. But, the ability to push past the slump is also contagious. It was a great rehearsal once we got going. My favorite part of being a part of a show is watching it evolve from the very first read through as we go through rehearsal process. We have only a few weeks before opening night -- I can't wait to see how it changes and actors grow.
Also, Vanessa called me a nigga tonight. She claims she didn't mean to, but she looked right at me and said, "Snicka for a nigga." Yes, Jonathan was standing right next to me and she was handing him a snicker bar as she said it, but we were making eye contact. First time I've ever been called a nigga. I feel kinda special. Guess it was bound to happen working with an all black cast and crew four nights a week.
And they've all realized my excessive giggling tendency. In Ramad's words, "It's what she does."
Until next time, pray for some wisdom, giggle, eat a snickers. :)
My personal devotions this week are happening in the first three chapters of Ephesians. Today was the second half of chapter one. I began my day asking for the Spirit of Wisdom. At times I think I used that spiritual gift -- other times, not so much. But it was a good direction for my day. It's still written in purple on my wrist.
At children's theatre camp, found out it may not be appropriate to have Thomas Jefferson poison Martha's first husband with cookies so that he can be with her. Sounds like the key points to a romantic comedy to me. The husband has to die somehow, otherwise how would she become a widow? I guess a rewrite will happen before next week's filming starts...
At youth theatre camp, found out that sometimes it is really, really hard for younger teens to put themselves into a character's head. I don't know how many times I told them, "Think like your character. How did they get to this point in their lives? What made them act this way?" Some of them thrived when we started writing poems. Some did not. I'll have some prompting and revising to do before next week. But a lot of what was started was really, really great. I'm so excited. Plus, I think we're going to do some work with shadow images. That's exciting!
At rehearsal, found out that lack of energy is contagious. But, the ability to push past the slump is also contagious. It was a great rehearsal once we got going. My favorite part of being a part of a show is watching it evolve from the very first read through as we go through rehearsal process. We have only a few weeks before opening night -- I can't wait to see how it changes and actors grow.
Also, Vanessa called me a nigga tonight. She claims she didn't mean to, but she looked right at me and said, "Snicka for a nigga." Yes, Jonathan was standing right next to me and she was handing him a snicker bar as she said it, but we were making eye contact. First time I've ever been called a nigga. I feel kinda special. Guess it was bound to happen working with an all black cast and crew four nights a week.
And they've all realized my excessive giggling tendency. In Ramad's words, "It's what she does."
Until next time, pray for some wisdom, giggle, eat a snickers. :)
Monday, June 27, 2011
Ah Ha Moments
People tell me theatre is full of "ah ha" moments. Thank the Lord, they are right! Tonight, we had lots and lots of ah ha moments at rehearsal.
Ladies and gentlemen, We Ain't the Huxtables is coming, and it's going to be an amazing show! I'm so excited. This afternoon Stevie cut music and sound clips, we got furniture, we processed through set dressing, and part of the cast came early to work through scenes. We were on fire! Boo ya!
The fire continued when the rest of the cast showed up for rehearsal at 6:00. We had a new character jump into the mix because the original had his appendix taken out. He was a breath of fresh air and energy that pushed the rest of the cast. It was exactly what we needed. And obviously the amazing couch and chair Stevie and I found helped. ;)
The energy was high, the cues were hit (most of the time), giggles were prevalent, and good work was done. There was one point when Ana was finally nailing the scene and Vanessa started giggling. Stevie stormed onto stage yelling as the entire cast and crew in the audience screamed at her, good natured but loud, upset that she broke character. Ana and Vanessa had been struggling through that scene for the last week, and they finally got it! It was a beautiful, encouraging, wonderful moment. It was magic, pure magic.
That is what theatre people live for, magical ah ha moments. It makes the means so much more enjoyable as we trek towards the ends.
I love theatre.
Until next time, have an ah ha moment, find some magic.
Ladies and gentlemen, We Ain't the Huxtables is coming, and it's going to be an amazing show! I'm so excited. This afternoon Stevie cut music and sound clips, we got furniture, we processed through set dressing, and part of the cast came early to work through scenes. We were on fire! Boo ya!
The fire continued when the rest of the cast showed up for rehearsal at 6:00. We had a new character jump into the mix because the original had his appendix taken out. He was a breath of fresh air and energy that pushed the rest of the cast. It was exactly what we needed. And obviously the amazing couch and chair Stevie and I found helped. ;)
The energy was high, the cues were hit (most of the time), giggles were prevalent, and good work was done. There was one point when Ana was finally nailing the scene and Vanessa started giggling. Stevie stormed onto stage yelling as the entire cast and crew in the audience screamed at her, good natured but loud, upset that she broke character. Ana and Vanessa had been struggling through that scene for the last week, and they finally got it! It was a beautiful, encouraging, wonderful moment. It was magic, pure magic.
That is what theatre people live for, magical ah ha moments. It makes the means so much more enjoyable as we trek towards the ends.
I love theatre.
Until next time, have an ah ha moment, find some magic.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Sister Friend
My little sister turns 14 today.
I remember when you were born, Sara. I remember before you were born. I wanted to name you "Barbie." Dad wouldn't let us. He's a spoil sport. You would have been a beautiful Barbie. You are a beautiful Sara.
I was so excited to have a little sister, I was tired of little brothers by that point in my seven year life. When you got a little bigger, Mom would let you fall asleep in bed with me, then move you to your crib. I never remember her moving you, but you were never there when I woke up. I was convinced we would be able to play together all of the time. You spent an awful lot of time asleep.
When you got older, you became more of a pain to me than anything else. You never helped clean our room, you were always bugging my friends and me when they came over, you were always taking my stuff. You had become the annoying little sister.
But now, my sister, you are my friend. I've been away from home for the majority of three years, and when I come home, I love spending time with you. Yes, you still steal my stuff and you get a little annoying sometimes, but mostly you have become my friend.
I can't wait to see where the years take us. There is a lot of growing for both of us to do in the next years, and I'm excited to see how we grow closer as we grow older. I am proud of who you are and who you will become.
I love you, Sissy. And hope you have a great 14th birthday. I'll see you in about a month. <3
Until next time, give someone some love.
I remember when you were born, Sara. I remember before you were born. I wanted to name you "Barbie." Dad wouldn't let us. He's a spoil sport. You would have been a beautiful Barbie. You are a beautiful Sara.
I was so excited to have a little sister, I was tired of little brothers by that point in my seven year life. When you got a little bigger, Mom would let you fall asleep in bed with me, then move you to your crib. I never remember her moving you, but you were never there when I woke up. I was convinced we would be able to play together all of the time. You spent an awful lot of time asleep.
When you got older, you became more of a pain to me than anything else. You never helped clean our room, you were always bugging my friends and me when they came over, you were always taking my stuff. You had become the annoying little sister.
But now, my sister, you are my friend. I've been away from home for the majority of three years, and when I come home, I love spending time with you. Yes, you still steal my stuff and you get a little annoying sometimes, but mostly you have become my friend.
I can't wait to see where the years take us. There is a lot of growing for both of us to do in the next years, and I'm excited to see how we grow closer as we grow older. I am proud of who you are and who you will become.
I love you, Sissy. And hope you have a great 14th birthday. I'll see you in about a month. <3
Until next time, give someone some love.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Transparent Living
"I imagine Jesus and his early followers were much more likely to be perceived as lunatics, radicals, rebels, and cultists than to be thought of as hypocritical." --UnChristian by David Kinnaman
The interns are onto a new book assignment, this time UnChristian. It is a book based on David Kinnaman's research into how Christians are perceived by "outsiders" in today's world, focusing mainly on the ages of 18 to 29. It is a hard book to read, not because it isn't engaging, but because of what it is telling. The truth sucks sometimes.
The chapter I read last night was about the perception that Christians are hypocritical. "Hypocrisy occurs when you profess something that you do not really believe. For instance, it is not hypocrisy when a pastor preaches against a sin with which he is personally struggling" (41). But often times, anyone who says one thing but does another is labeled a hypocrite, whether the term applies or not.
Let's be honest -- we are all guilty of hypocrisy. People know and realize this. In today's world, especially in the U.S., people want to be perceived as doing the right thing, making sure their image is that of having it all together. What bothers most outsiders is that Christians say all these things about living for God, and even if they don't follow them, they try and appear to. Christians are playing the same mind games that everyone else is.
David Kinnaman offers a solution: living transparently: "Transparency disarms an image-is-everything generation." Everyone struggles with immorality -- that is how our hearts are rebelling against God. We need to be honest with our selves and with others around us about the struggles in our lives, be up front with outsiders of our faith. We need to stop living in the Christian spotlight and put Jesus back where He needs to be. Our lives should not detract from His.
Easier said than done, right?
We will never be perfect, we will never get it right all the time, but being okay with this. Working towards the goal God has set in front of you with the right attitude and transparency will show the world that not all Christians follow the same lines of hypocrisy.
The chapter ended with a quote from the 19th century Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy: "Attack me, I do this myself, but attack me rather than the path I follow and which I point out to anyone who asks me where I think it lies. If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkely, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side!"
We need to stop presenting ourselves as the message and start presenting Jesus as the way, the truth, and the light.
Until next time, be transparent.
The interns are onto a new book assignment, this time UnChristian. It is a book based on David Kinnaman's research into how Christians are perceived by "outsiders" in today's world, focusing mainly on the ages of 18 to 29. It is a hard book to read, not because it isn't engaging, but because of what it is telling. The truth sucks sometimes.
The chapter I read last night was about the perception that Christians are hypocritical. "Hypocrisy occurs when you profess something that you do not really believe. For instance, it is not hypocrisy when a pastor preaches against a sin with which he is personally struggling" (41). But often times, anyone who says one thing but does another is labeled a hypocrite, whether the term applies or not.
Let's be honest -- we are all guilty of hypocrisy. People know and realize this. In today's world, especially in the U.S., people want to be perceived as doing the right thing, making sure their image is that of having it all together. What bothers most outsiders is that Christians say all these things about living for God, and even if they don't follow them, they try and appear to. Christians are playing the same mind games that everyone else is.
David Kinnaman offers a solution: living transparently: "Transparency disarms an image-is-everything generation." Everyone struggles with immorality -- that is how our hearts are rebelling against God. We need to be honest with our selves and with others around us about the struggles in our lives, be up front with outsiders of our faith. We need to stop living in the Christian spotlight and put Jesus back where He needs to be. Our lives should not detract from His.
Easier said than done, right?
We will never be perfect, we will never get it right all the time, but being okay with this. Working towards the goal God has set in front of you with the right attitude and transparency will show the world that not all Christians follow the same lines of hypocrisy.
The chapter ended with a quote from the 19th century Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy: "Attack me, I do this myself, but attack me rather than the path I follow and which I point out to anyone who asks me where I think it lies. If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkely, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side!"
We need to stop presenting ourselves as the message and start presenting Jesus as the way, the truth, and the light.
Until next time, be transparent.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Compassionate Change
All it took was one poem. One poem written by the quiet boy in my group. He let me read it. It was beautiful.
And it was what I needed to know that my hour with the youth was going to be good.
He wouldn't let me keep the poem yesterday, but he said he'd make a copy of it. He was proud of the poem he wrote, but not ready to read it aloud. That was okay, the fact he wrote it made my heart soar.
I won't lie and say that the hour went smoothly from the beginning, but I was able to roll with it better. Stevie gave me some ABAB dialogue work to do, but it tanked. The kids weren't into it. They are so worried about looking stupid. I'm trying to get them to realize when we do activities, when they don't participate they look stupid. To move forward, we played games. I lead them in boom chicka boom. Most played, some didn't. They we played Ha. I've never had so much resistance when playing games, but by the end of the game, everyone was laughing and having a good time. A step in the right direction.
For the last 30 minutes of our hour together, we talked about our project. We set up perimeters our story would take place in, at a high school. We brainstormed characters they could be; the jock, the nerd, the goth, the popular girl, the bully, etc. My goal for the project is for them to pick a character and an underlying issue that character is dealing with and for them to write that character's poem. I will take the poems, finesse them, clean them up, and piece them all together into one performance piece.
I let everyone talk, heard every one's ideas, shushed when necessary, but really tried to give each kid the focus and attention they deserved with the ideas they had. Some were great ideas, some were not. But nevertheless, they got to think for themselves. Next week will be writing days as I show them more examples of poetry performed and get them on their feet a little.
It was a really great time. I left with a smile and a light heart, which was opposite of the day before. God is good. Not only was I compassionate toward the kids, He was compassionate towards my attitude and poor attempts to be a leader.
And beyond that, I have written two movie scripts in the past two days, one a romantic comedy about Thomas Jefferson and the other a scifi sports movie about the extinction of dinosaurs. I have a great job.
To end, I want to share some of the things they kids think of compassion: love, generosity, kindness, family, preachers, friends, homeless shelters, foster homes. A good list from a group of junior high kids.
Until next time, show some compassion, receive some compassion. It's usually two-fold.
And it was what I needed to know that my hour with the youth was going to be good.
He wouldn't let me keep the poem yesterday, but he said he'd make a copy of it. He was proud of the poem he wrote, but not ready to read it aloud. That was okay, the fact he wrote it made my heart soar.
I won't lie and say that the hour went smoothly from the beginning, but I was able to roll with it better. Stevie gave me some ABAB dialogue work to do, but it tanked. The kids weren't into it. They are so worried about looking stupid. I'm trying to get them to realize when we do activities, when they don't participate they look stupid. To move forward, we played games. I lead them in boom chicka boom. Most played, some didn't. They we played Ha. I've never had so much resistance when playing games, but by the end of the game, everyone was laughing and having a good time. A step in the right direction.
For the last 30 minutes of our hour together, we talked about our project. We set up perimeters our story would take place in, at a high school. We brainstormed characters they could be; the jock, the nerd, the goth, the popular girl, the bully, etc. My goal for the project is for them to pick a character and an underlying issue that character is dealing with and for them to write that character's poem. I will take the poems, finesse them, clean them up, and piece them all together into one performance piece.
I let everyone talk, heard every one's ideas, shushed when necessary, but really tried to give each kid the focus and attention they deserved with the ideas they had. Some were great ideas, some were not. But nevertheless, they got to think for themselves. Next week will be writing days as I show them more examples of poetry performed and get them on their feet a little.
It was a really great time. I left with a smile and a light heart, which was opposite of the day before. God is good. Not only was I compassionate toward the kids, He was compassionate towards my attitude and poor attempts to be a leader.
And beyond that, I have written two movie scripts in the past two days, one a romantic comedy about Thomas Jefferson and the other a scifi sports movie about the extinction of dinosaurs. I have a great job.
To end, I want to share some of the things they kids think of compassion: love, generosity, kindness, family, preachers, friends, homeless shelters, foster homes. A good list from a group of junior high kids.
Until next time, show some compassion, receive some compassion. It's usually two-fold.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Restoring Rain
It rained last night. I haven't seen rain in over a month, but last night, it rained.
Rain that washed all the crap from yesterday away. I still have no plan for youth today, but I do have a new direction I'm supposed to go. A direction from God.
The youth poems will be focusing on compassion. As I was journaling last night, venting for the eighth time, God spoke to me in a still small whisper. He said if I am going to try and teach and direct these kids through poems about compassion, I better start showing them compassion. He's really good at convicting me, but it's what I needed to hear.
"But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness." Psalm 86:15
So I decided I'm not going to vent about it anymore, I'm not going to complain, I'm not going to worry. Or at least try not to do these things.
Here I am staring at the wall, worrying about today. Already I'm failing. But I'm going to try. God is a good God, and He will help me.
Rain, it is a blessing. It washes away the bad, gives new life to the good. I feel like that's me. I was in need of a little restoration.
After my 15 minutes in the rain, I went back to bed. The power went out for about three minutes, and it was silent except for the thunder and the rain. Only when the power kicked back on with all the fans and AC units did I realize how much white noise fills my world. So much white noise that I could no longer hear the rain on the window panes.
What am I not hearing because of the white noise? What am I not hearing from these kids because of the white noise fronts they put up?
Until next time, get rid of the white noise, listen to the still, small voice.
Rain that washed all the crap from yesterday away. I still have no plan for youth today, but I do have a new direction I'm supposed to go. A direction from God.
The youth poems will be focusing on compassion. As I was journaling last night, venting for the eighth time, God spoke to me in a still small whisper. He said if I am going to try and teach and direct these kids through poems about compassion, I better start showing them compassion. He's really good at convicting me, but it's what I needed to hear.
"But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness." Psalm 86:15
So I decided I'm not going to vent about it anymore, I'm not going to complain, I'm not going to worry. Or at least try not to do these things.
Here I am staring at the wall, worrying about today. Already I'm failing. But I'm going to try. God is a good God, and He will help me.
Rain, it is a blessing. It washes away the bad, gives new life to the good. I feel like that's me. I was in need of a little restoration.
After my 15 minutes in the rain, I went back to bed. The power went out for about three minutes, and it was silent except for the thunder and the rain. Only when the power kicked back on with all the fans and AC units did I realize how much white noise fills my world. So much white noise that I could no longer hear the rain on the window panes.
What am I not hearing because of the white noise? What am I not hearing from these kids because of the white noise fronts they put up?
Until next time, get rid of the white noise, listen to the still, small voice.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Venting Mantra
These are good kids from bad situations. These are good kids from bad situations. These are good kids from bad situations...
My mantra. I'm trying to remember this.
I am so frustrated. Youth kids are hard to handle sometimes, today for instance. I don't remember a time when I was so disrespected by a group of junior high and young high schoolers. I wasn't able to get them under control, they didn't listen, they were rude to each other and the leaders, they complained and whined.
So frustrated! I don't know what to do. I'm venting.
They are really great kids, there is so much potential, so much spirit, but I can't seem to direct that potential and excitement into what we're doing.
Please, pray for me.
Until next time.
My mantra. I'm trying to remember this.
I am so frustrated. Youth kids are hard to handle sometimes, today for instance. I don't remember a time when I was so disrespected by a group of junior high and young high schoolers. I wasn't able to get them under control, they didn't listen, they were rude to each other and the leaders, they complained and whined.
So frustrated! I don't know what to do. I'm venting.
They are really great kids, there is so much potential, so much spirit, but I can't seem to direct that potential and excitement into what we're doing.
Please, pray for me.
Until next time.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Picture This
I finally got pictures off my camera and onto my portable hard drive, so this afternoon's post will mostly be pictures of my recent journeys.
Four of the six interns, five if you count me behind the camera. I love our group, it's wonderful. At times, we are seven years old. We spend a lot of time laughing, which is wonderful.
This is six members of the wonderful cast I get to work with this summer. We spent Saturday at the park promoting our show, "We Ain't the Huxtables." Six and a half hours in the hot sun, hanging out, doing frozen image work to draw attention, dancing, having a blast. I am blessed with this cast.
They were all very impressed when I did the electric slide with them. I told them we do the electric slide in Nebraska, but usually to country songs. Can't say I'm very good at it, but I do know how to. :)
We did a lot of dancing Saturday. I thought this picture of Ramad with Vanessa's little cousin was adorable.
Church Under the Bridge, located under I-39 in Waco. This is where I spend Sunday mornings from 10:30ish to 12:30ish. It is a completely different experience from any other church I have ever been to.
The gentleman in the front is their "worship leader," and he is always up front, but doesn't do much leading. He is mentally disabled, but wanted to be a part of the band, so they gave him a little guitar and a mic they mute and let him go. He wanders around, shakes hands, prays over people, and worships God the way he knows how.
If you read far enough back or have been following my blog long enough, I mentioned Claude the first Sunday I was here. He leads us in "Jesus Loves Me" every week, and it is beautiful. His disability doesn't allow for him to do a lot of things, but singing to the Lord is not one of them.
That's our congregation -- a wide array of colors, back grounds, classes, economic standing, view points, and beliefs. It's a beautiful thing.
Until next time, picture this. :)
Until next time, picture this. :)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Fatherly Love
"Daddy, because of you I know I'm the prettiest girl in the world."
At the first church service we went to this morning, the most adorable little girl, probably four or five years old, said this in honor of her dad. I bawled. I missed my daddy more in that moment than I ever remember before.
So, Daddy, this is for you.
In the same service, the pastor defined a hero: one who is willing to love and to serve.
You have always loved your family, even when it was near impossible. Sometimes you were hard on us, but those smacks upside the head were always deserved and always for teaching. You work hard for us, more than most men, trying to give us everything you can. But Daddy, sometimes time spent with you means so much more than a new toy.
I love your hugs, they are enveloping and strong. I miss your hugs, and I can't wait to get home to a hug. You are a wonderful Dad, and I am blessed to be your child.
This is my little Father's Day shout out.
Until next time, hug your dad.
At the first church service we went to this morning, the most adorable little girl, probably four or five years old, said this in honor of her dad. I bawled. I missed my daddy more in that moment than I ever remember before.
So, Daddy, this is for you.
In the same service, the pastor defined a hero: one who is willing to love and to serve.
You have always loved your family, even when it was near impossible. Sometimes you were hard on us, but those smacks upside the head were always deserved and always for teaching. You work hard for us, more than most men, trying to give us everything you can. But Daddy, sometimes time spent with you means so much more than a new toy.
I love your hugs, they are enveloping and strong. I miss your hugs, and I can't wait to get home to a hug. You are a wonderful Dad, and I am blessed to be your child.
This is my little Father's Day shout out.
Until next time, hug your dad.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Theatre Therapy
I saw a play tonight. It was wonderful. I love going to plays.
The play is "Circle Mirror Transformation," by Annie Baker, was produced by a Baylor University grad student working towards a masters in directing. Follows is the description in the playbill: "When four lost New Englanders who enroll in Marty's six-week-long community-center drama class begin to experiment with harmless games, hearts are quietly torn apart, and tiny wars of epic proportions are waged and won. A beautifully crafted diorama, a petri dish in which we see, with hilarious detail and clarity, the antic sadness of a motley quintet."
The opening is five people laying on the floor playing the counting game. For those in the theatre department, you know what I'm talking about. They also played the game that you walk around the space being aware of your surroundings and how you fit into it. There were a couple more that I recognized, and it was clear who in the audience was familiar with them and who was not. I felt like I was part of a small, exclusive group. It was wonderful.
It was just really interesting to see these games I've played for the last three years in a different context. They were used for therapy purposes, and for four of the five characters, they did not have a positive affect on their issues. The issues were brought up to the surface, but they were not dealt with in a healthy way. It was so interesting to process through.
I am a firm believer that the arts can bring healing and empower people, but when done by people who have no idea to help with the issues brought up, good efforts can become crippling. It was good to look at as I help with a theatre program for students that will have to process through their decisions and their after affects.
I then got a tour of Baylor University's theatre department, or at least what was unlocked at 9:00 p.m. They have around 20 professors and staff in their department and a 125 cap of undergraduates, as well as graduate students in their department. They have three great performing spaces, and a fly system, which I was envious over. It was very cool.
I am so glad I got to go. There is nothing better for me than seeing a play on a whim. Thirty minutes before it started I didn't know I was going. It was lovely. It was kind of therapeutic for me, let me live in a different world for 90 minutes. I like that.
Until next time, find something therapeutic to do for yourself.
The play is "Circle Mirror Transformation," by Annie Baker, was produced by a Baylor University grad student working towards a masters in directing. Follows is the description in the playbill: "When four lost New Englanders who enroll in Marty's six-week-long community-center drama class begin to experiment with harmless games, hearts are quietly torn apart, and tiny wars of epic proportions are waged and won. A beautifully crafted diorama, a petri dish in which we see, with hilarious detail and clarity, the antic sadness of a motley quintet."
The opening is five people laying on the floor playing the counting game. For those in the theatre department, you know what I'm talking about. They also played the game that you walk around the space being aware of your surroundings and how you fit into it. There were a couple more that I recognized, and it was clear who in the audience was familiar with them and who was not. I felt like I was part of a small, exclusive group. It was wonderful.
It was just really interesting to see these games I've played for the last three years in a different context. They were used for therapy purposes, and for four of the five characters, they did not have a positive affect on their issues. The issues were brought up to the surface, but they were not dealt with in a healthy way. It was so interesting to process through.
I am a firm believer that the arts can bring healing and empower people, but when done by people who have no idea to help with the issues brought up, good efforts can become crippling. It was good to look at as I help with a theatre program for students that will have to process through their decisions and their after affects.
I then got a tour of Baylor University's theatre department, or at least what was unlocked at 9:00 p.m. They have around 20 professors and staff in their department and a 125 cap of undergraduates, as well as graduate students in their department. They have three great performing spaces, and a fly system, which I was envious over. It was very cool.
I am so glad I got to go. There is nothing better for me than seeing a play on a whim. Thirty minutes before it started I didn't know I was going. It was lovely. It was kind of therapeutic for me, let me live in a different world for 90 minutes. I like that.
Until next time, find something therapeutic to do for yourself.
Bosom Buddies
I miss my friends. I'm beginning to understand the concept of bosom buddies--they are the friends that when you think about them, your heart is both happy and sad. Happy because there is so much love between us, sad because there is so much distance between us. At least that's how it's been for me the past couple of days. Last night I talked to Aleah for over an hour, and when we finished, I was smiling, but my heart was a little achey.
But it was a good achey, does that make sense? I was content in the fact that I would have been okay if I didn't talk to anyone else that day because I had talked to Aleah. It probably helped that I had also talked to my little brother and mom earlier.
To use a term from Donald Miller, Aleah and I had a shared chapter for little while.
Yesterday I began to read Donald Miller's book "Through Painted Deserts." (Sorry, Dad, I bought it rather than going to the library...) And like my contentment after my conversation with Aleah, after reading only the author's note at the beginning of the book, I was content. I stopped reading because I didn't want to read anything to be better than what I just read. It was a strange thing for me--usually I want to keep reading to get to the next good part. This time I didn't want any more good parts to ruin the good part I just read.
"It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly. . . So soon you will be in the part of the book where you are holding the bulk of that pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page number, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly towards its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification."
I would put the whole introduction on my blog, but that would be ridiculous. My heart just feels good after reading this. Not the fact that our stories are coming to an end quickly, but that so much beauty has come from our stories. Eventually I'll start reading the rest of his book, but for now, the introduction is enough.
Until next time, feel content and love the characters in your story well.
But it was a good achey, does that make sense? I was content in the fact that I would have been okay if I didn't talk to anyone else that day because I had talked to Aleah. It probably helped that I had also talked to my little brother and mom earlier.
To use a term from Donald Miller, Aleah and I had a shared chapter for little while.
Yesterday I began to read Donald Miller's book "Through Painted Deserts." (Sorry, Dad, I bought it rather than going to the library...) And like my contentment after my conversation with Aleah, after reading only the author's note at the beginning of the book, I was content. I stopped reading because I didn't want to read anything to be better than what I just read. It was a strange thing for me--usually I want to keep reading to get to the next good part. This time I didn't want any more good parts to ruin the good part I just read.
"It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly. . . So soon you will be in the part of the book where you are holding the bulk of that pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page number, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly towards its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification."
I would put the whole introduction on my blog, but that would be ridiculous. My heart just feels good after reading this. Not the fact that our stories are coming to an end quickly, but that so much beauty has come from our stories. Eventually I'll start reading the rest of his book, but for now, the introduction is enough.
Until next time, feel content and love the characters in your story well.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Full Moon Poetry
How do I get a group of 9 middle school kids excited about poetry?
I have no idea. I would love some suggestions.
This is my task for the remainder of youth theatre camp this summer. Between four group leaders, we have to create 10 minute performances that center around the impact one choice can have on your life. Each group has a different mode or area of performance, i.e. Step/Stomp, Music/Rap, Modern Movement/Dance, and Poetry.
Again I ask: How do I get a group of 9 middle school kids excited about poetry?
I still don't know. But it is all I can think about tonight as I attempted to go to bed. I didn't get that far, obviously.
It doesn't take much for me to get excited about poetry. I love words, I love performance, I love the way poems seem to dance when you speak them out loud, when you enact them, when you hear them, not just read them. I love the rhythms of poetry, the beats, the journey they take you on. I love the freedom poems give us, the life they bring to words, to our souls.
How do I get a group of 9 middle school kids excited about poetry? How to I get them excited enough to enjoy writing and performing their own poetry? How do I allow the introverts to break out without the extroverts stomping on them? How do I connect them to the way words can change lives? How do I show them that what we are doing is good work, important work, beautiful work? How?
I don't know.
But somethings I do know: I am excited for the answers to these questions to be discovered. I am excited to get to know these 9 middle schoolers. I am excited for the work we are doing.
And guess what -- It's a full moon tonight. It's been roughly a month since I've started this blog. And tomorrow marks the third week I've been in Texas. I love it here, even if I am finding more questions than answers.
Until next time, check out that moon, read a poem, get excited.
I have no idea. I would love some suggestions.
This is my task for the remainder of youth theatre camp this summer. Between four group leaders, we have to create 10 minute performances that center around the impact one choice can have on your life. Each group has a different mode or area of performance, i.e. Step/Stomp, Music/Rap, Modern Movement/Dance, and Poetry.
Again I ask: How do I get a group of 9 middle school kids excited about poetry?
I still don't know. But it is all I can think about tonight as I attempted to go to bed. I didn't get that far, obviously.
It doesn't take much for me to get excited about poetry. I love words, I love performance, I love the way poems seem to dance when you speak them out loud, when you enact them, when you hear them, not just read them. I love the rhythms of poetry, the beats, the journey they take you on. I love the freedom poems give us, the life they bring to words, to our souls.
How do I get a group of 9 middle school kids excited about poetry? How to I get them excited enough to enjoy writing and performing their own poetry? How do I allow the introverts to break out without the extroverts stomping on them? How do I connect them to the way words can change lives? How do I show them that what we are doing is good work, important work, beautiful work? How?
I don't know.
But somethings I do know: I am excited for the answers to these questions to be discovered. I am excited to get to know these 9 middle schoolers. I am excited for the work we are doing.
And guess what -- It's a full moon tonight. It's been roughly a month since I've started this blog. And tomorrow marks the third week I've been in Texas. I love it here, even if I am finding more questions than answers.
Until next time, check out that moon, read a poem, get excited.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Lovely Lessons
I know I already blogged once today, but I'm insane, so I'm going to do it again. This post is dedicated to my mom and dad. Another list, this one of all the things my parents taught me that didn't hit me until being here. Get ready:
1. How to sweep and mop a floor. Apparently all kids aren't taught this. When a youth group comes for five days to help Mission Waco, it should not be the first time a group of 15-year-olds have to sweep and mop.
2. How to sew on a button. Thanks, Mom. It makes craft time with my roommates so much more enjoyable.
3. How to shut a door when entering a room. This drives me crazy. Shut the door behind you. This goes right along with shutting cabinet doors. None of the cabinets stay closed in this house. It's infuriating...
4. How to use a gas stove. It's been very interesting the past couple of weeks as we've taught some of our roommates how to use the gas stove in our house. A couple of times I've been worried about the house burning down...
5. How to sit down and shut up. A group of thirty elementary kids still have to learn this lesson. The group of thirty-five high school kids too.
6. How to treat people with respect, even when they don't do the same to you. Self explanatory.
7. How to drive a big, old pick-up truck. Not really the vehicle I'd choose to get lost in Waco in, but at least I didn't run into anything making wide turns. I did run over a couple of curbs though...
8. How to love reading. I've read all the books I brought with me, plus two I've acquired since getting here. I guess that's what happens when there's no TV around...
9. How to accept people, no matter their background or beliefs or preferences. It's not very often when I am a minority in a room, but it doesn't matter when we treat each other with respect and accept the other for who they are.
10. How to miss home, but focus on what I'm doing here. I love you and miss you.
Until next time, call your mommy.
1. How to sweep and mop a floor. Apparently all kids aren't taught this. When a youth group comes for five days to help Mission Waco, it should not be the first time a group of 15-year-olds have to sweep and mop.
2. How to sew on a button. Thanks, Mom. It makes craft time with my roommates so much more enjoyable.
3. How to shut a door when entering a room. This drives me crazy. Shut the door behind you. This goes right along with shutting cabinet doors. None of the cabinets stay closed in this house. It's infuriating...
4. How to use a gas stove. It's been very interesting the past couple of weeks as we've taught some of our roommates how to use the gas stove in our house. A couple of times I've been worried about the house burning down...
5. How to sit down and shut up. A group of thirty elementary kids still have to learn this lesson. The group of thirty-five high school kids too.
6. How to treat people with respect, even when they don't do the same to you. Self explanatory.
7. How to drive a big, old pick-up truck. Not really the vehicle I'd choose to get lost in Waco in, but at least I didn't run into anything making wide turns. I did run over a couple of curbs though...
8. How to love reading. I've read all the books I brought with me, plus two I've acquired since getting here. I guess that's what happens when there's no TV around...
9. How to accept people, no matter their background or beliefs or preferences. It's not very often when I am a minority in a room, but it doesn't matter when we treat each other with respect and accept the other for who they are.
10. How to miss home, but focus on what I'm doing here. I love you and miss you.
Until next time, call your mommy.
Refreshing Theatre
You know those days where it seems like nothing goes right, but the amazing night totally makes up for it? I had one of those days yesterday.
I have come to the conclusion that though google says there are eight art galleries/studios in Waco, there is only one. And it's closed on Monday. I went in search of these galleries/studios to research one of the projects I'm working on here at MW. We are in the planning stages of opening our own small art gallery and studio where local artists can display their work and people from the community can come take art classes and receive art therapy. I'm really excited about the project, and ready to get moving on more than just the planning stage. But no one else is ready to move past the planning stage... ;)
After I got lost multiple times with the help of the GPS, my random tour of Waco finished. I felt like I totally wasted two hours and 1/4 of a tank of gas. It was super frustrating. I finished out my afternoon doing data entry at the Meyers Center, which is fine, but not exciting or too enjoyable.
But rehearsal last night was amazing. After an hour of working through the first four or five pages, Stevie gave me the reigns of those pages and three actors to work on it more while he blocked different scenes. There was chemistry and everything seemed to click. Stevie didn't have the same luck with his scenes, and unfortunately had to be the bad guy and bump someone from the cast. It is a high energy show, and it has to be that way across the board for actors. But all in all, it was a great first night of rehearsal. It made me feel good and refreshed.
Theatre has that effect on me. It makes everything seem better than before.
Until next time, find something that refreshes you.
I have come to the conclusion that though google says there are eight art galleries/studios in Waco, there is only one. And it's closed on Monday. I went in search of these galleries/studios to research one of the projects I'm working on here at MW. We are in the planning stages of opening our own small art gallery and studio where local artists can display their work and people from the community can come take art classes and receive art therapy. I'm really excited about the project, and ready to get moving on more than just the planning stage. But no one else is ready to move past the planning stage... ;)
After I got lost multiple times with the help of the GPS, my random tour of Waco finished. I felt like I totally wasted two hours and 1/4 of a tank of gas. It was super frustrating. I finished out my afternoon doing data entry at the Meyers Center, which is fine, but not exciting or too enjoyable.
But rehearsal last night was amazing. After an hour of working through the first four or five pages, Stevie gave me the reigns of those pages and three actors to work on it more while he blocked different scenes. There was chemistry and everything seemed to click. Stevie didn't have the same luck with his scenes, and unfortunately had to be the bad guy and bump someone from the cast. It is a high energy show, and it has to be that way across the board for actors. But all in all, it was a great first night of rehearsal. It made me feel good and refreshed.
Theatre has that effect on me. It makes everything seem better than before.
Until next time, find something that refreshes you.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Hopeful Magic
Choose to be hopeful, but be prepared to deal with disappointment if it comes. Some wise words I wanted to pass along.
I think today's post will be another list, a list of magic, of blessings, of hope.
1. Jesus loves me. A well known fact, a precious children's song, and a blessing. Last Sunday a man named Clyde who is mentally disabled sang this song at Church Under the Bridge. He sings this song every week. It was the most heart-felt, honest song I have heard in a long, long time. It blessed me.
2. Free Naz. A woman named Hope on staff at MW is choosing to be hopeful. Her husband was taken by immigration police in March. His green card was revoked because of a felony he was charged with and had taken care of years before. He is being held right now, and Hope is waiting to find out if he will get to come home between now and his final court date. She is hopeful. She is strong. She is an encouragement.
3. A couch. Last night, four of the six interns were on a mission. We wanted a comfy couch to sit in our living room. So we went on a hunt, finding on sitting on the side of the street. Dirty, kinda smelly, and only cost the $5 we gave a guy to help us haul it. It was a victory in our book. Some of the interns won't sit on it. I think it's great, not because of what it is, but because of what it represents. We are bonding. I love bonding.
4. Friends. Both here and at home. They are blessing me. Friends are beautiful.
I think that's my list for today. Seems like a pretty good list of blessings to me.
Until next time, be hopeful.
I think today's post will be another list, a list of magic, of blessings, of hope.
1. Jesus loves me. A well known fact, a precious children's song, and a blessing. Last Sunday a man named Clyde who is mentally disabled sang this song at Church Under the Bridge. He sings this song every week. It was the most heart-felt, honest song I have heard in a long, long time. It blessed me.
2. Free Naz. A woman named Hope on staff at MW is choosing to be hopeful. Her husband was taken by immigration police in March. His green card was revoked because of a felony he was charged with and had taken care of years before. He is being held right now, and Hope is waiting to find out if he will get to come home between now and his final court date. She is hopeful. She is strong. She is an encouragement.
3. A couch. Last night, four of the six interns were on a mission. We wanted a comfy couch to sit in our living room. So we went on a hunt, finding on sitting on the side of the street. Dirty, kinda smelly, and only cost the $5 we gave a guy to help us haul it. It was a victory in our book. Some of the interns won't sit on it. I think it's great, not because of what it is, but because of what it represents. We are bonding. I love bonding.
4. Friends. Both here and at home. They are blessing me. Friends are beautiful.
I think that's my list for today. Seems like a pretty good list of blessings to me.
Until next time, be hopeful.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Homeless by Choice
Sometimes homelessness can't be helped, it just happens. Other times, it is by choice.
This is Cornelius' 8th day homeless. It is also his 8th day clean and sober. Cornelius chose to be homeless. He took himself out of the problem of drugs and alcohol. Some may say now he has different problems. This may be true. But he'd rather live clean. Cornelius is 78 years old.
He has become one of my heroes. Not because of his stellar life choices or his growing faith, but because of his courage. Cornelius left what was wrong behind and is striving towards what he can be clean. And he's scared. He'll tell anyone how scared he is. But to an addict of years and years, 8 days is a big deal.
Some people I have encountered in the past two weeks are homeless because of terrible choices they have made. Some because they lost their jobs, like thousands of others in this economy. Some because they fall into the 50% of homeless people that have a mental illness. But there are some, like Cornelius, who are homeless because it's what is best for them.
Until next time, do what's best for you, even if it's the hard choice.
This is Cornelius' 8th day homeless. It is also his 8th day clean and sober. Cornelius chose to be homeless. He took himself out of the problem of drugs and alcohol. Some may say now he has different problems. This may be true. But he'd rather live clean. Cornelius is 78 years old.
He has become one of my heroes. Not because of his stellar life choices or his growing faith, but because of his courage. Cornelius left what was wrong behind and is striving towards what he can be clean. And he's scared. He'll tell anyone how scared he is. But to an addict of years and years, 8 days is a big deal.
Some people I have encountered in the past two weeks are homeless because of terrible choices they have made. Some because they lost their jobs, like thousands of others in this economy. Some because they fall into the 50% of homeless people that have a mental illness. But there are some, like Cornelius, who are homeless because it's what is best for them.
Until next time, do what's best for you, even if it's the hard choice.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Truthful Theatre
Sometimes, theatre can be a heartless mistress.
Those of you in theatre understand what I mean. Those of you who aren't familiar with the trials of the stage, I will explain my latest reason. Rest assured, she redeemed herself in a way, but she is cruel none the less.
The reason I came to Waco this summer is to work with the Jubilee Theatre. They are a very small community theatre under the wing of Mission Waco who strive to revitalize Waco through the arts. I will be helping run some threatre camps for the children and youth, which I'm really excited for. Along with that, they are producing a full-length show this summer as well.
On Monday, however, that appeared to be off the schedule. The show we had been working on, "History Revisited Herstory," had been called off. Theatre is cruel. It dashes our dreams and aspirations to the ground and stomps on them.
The play is controversial. It is the story of this community and many more like it. It centers around a government owned low income apartment complex that is being closed. The families within the complex are faced with having to move and uproot the lives they know. Two pastors from the community, who they thought would help their cause of keeping the complex open are actually working against them. This, among other things, raises some major issues to sight, makes some people really uncomfortable.
It is the truth. And the truth is scary. People don't want to say the truth. Don't want to hear the truth.
I am still not sure why the play got pulled, I'm assuming there are multiple reasons why. Monday night Stevie (the guy who runs the threatre this season, the writer and director of "Herstory") told us all, and those of us who actually showed up for rehearsal were devastated. This was the reason I came to Texas. Stevie was in the same boat I was. What were we going to do with our summer?
Theatre is a heartless mistress, but our God is bigger.
Stevie was given permission to produce another show, "We Ain't Tha Huxtables." It's a smaller cast, so he's casting it from the people who were dedicated to the last production. It's funny, the audience will enjoy it, but it is pretty flat. It was the first play Stevie ever wrote, and he doesn't like it. Theatre for the masses is how he describes it. He likes the turn heads and cause thought. I think he's going to rewrite some of it.
So, my summer will not be void of the theatre. Actually, Stevie has asked me to act in the show. He's never seen me act. I don't really act anymore. It's kind of nerve-wracking. He expected me to jump right on board, but I haven't given him my final answer. He probably knows my answer. I'll probably do it. He's good at reading people like that. I'm nervous thinking about it...
Until next time, read a play, look for the moon, take a chance.
Those of you in theatre understand what I mean. Those of you who aren't familiar with the trials of the stage, I will explain my latest reason. Rest assured, she redeemed herself in a way, but she is cruel none the less.
The reason I came to Waco this summer is to work with the Jubilee Theatre. They are a very small community theatre under the wing of Mission Waco who strive to revitalize Waco through the arts. I will be helping run some threatre camps for the children and youth, which I'm really excited for. Along with that, they are producing a full-length show this summer as well.
On Monday, however, that appeared to be off the schedule. The show we had been working on, "History Revisited Herstory," had been called off. Theatre is cruel. It dashes our dreams and aspirations to the ground and stomps on them.
The play is controversial. It is the story of this community and many more like it. It centers around a government owned low income apartment complex that is being closed. The families within the complex are faced with having to move and uproot the lives they know. Two pastors from the community, who they thought would help their cause of keeping the complex open are actually working against them. This, among other things, raises some major issues to sight, makes some people really uncomfortable.
It is the truth. And the truth is scary. People don't want to say the truth. Don't want to hear the truth.
I am still not sure why the play got pulled, I'm assuming there are multiple reasons why. Monday night Stevie (the guy who runs the threatre this season, the writer and director of "Herstory") told us all, and those of us who actually showed up for rehearsal were devastated. This was the reason I came to Texas. Stevie was in the same boat I was. What were we going to do with our summer?
Theatre is a heartless mistress, but our God is bigger.
Stevie was given permission to produce another show, "We Ain't Tha Huxtables." It's a smaller cast, so he's casting it from the people who were dedicated to the last production. It's funny, the audience will enjoy it, but it is pretty flat. It was the first play Stevie ever wrote, and he doesn't like it. Theatre for the masses is how he describes it. He likes the turn heads and cause thought. I think he's going to rewrite some of it.
So, my summer will not be void of the theatre. Actually, Stevie has asked me to act in the show. He's never seen me act. I don't really act anymore. It's kind of nerve-wracking. He expected me to jump right on board, but I haven't given him my final answer. He probably knows my answer. I'll probably do it. He's good at reading people like that. I'm nervous thinking about it...
Until next time, read a play, look for the moon, take a chance.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Spiritual Leprosy
Poverty. It's a big deal. I knew this fact before this weekend, but there's something about spending 42 hours homeless that really drives this in deep.
From Friday night to Sunday afternoon, we took part in a poverty simulation. I am not supposed to give out any details of the experience so that other people who do it in the future don't know what's coming, so I'll be vague.
I had no money and few possessions. I didn't shower. I ate, but not regularly or much. I slept outside. It was exhausting, hard, and eye opening. I will never forget it.
Leprosy is a very common ailment in the Bible. And today. There are entire leprosy camps in India and countries like it. When you have leprosy, your body becomes numb as it falls apart. You don't feel your finger falling off, or your nose--you are completely numb to the feeling of pain in that place.
I think I may have spiritual leprosy. I think most people do. The things that break God's heart, that as Christians are supposed to break ours, don't really affect us. We are numb to the pain. Starving children or homeless families should cause us pain, heart ache, but a lot of times they don't. Our hearts have become numb.
It's too easy to focus on our own lives, to see the world through our middle-class, privileged lenses. We are blessed, but that doesn't mean we should become numbed to the pain of the world. We are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
Jesus was poor. He was homeless. He ate with the prostitutes. Hung out with the tax collectors. Touched the untouchables. Healed the sick. He felt their pain. Their rejection. Their emptiness. And He helped them.
And so should we. Sometimes it requires giving money, sometimes not. Something I learned this weekend is that sometimes, people just need to tell their stories. They need someone to listen, to pray for them. I love hearing stories. If I can give up 15 to 20 minutes of my time, who know the affect that will have on their day.
I am praying that I can be moved as Jesus was moved, that I cry His tears, that my numb heart is broken and filled with Him. He is more than enough for me.
Until next time, listen to someone's story.
From Friday night to Sunday afternoon, we took part in a poverty simulation. I am not supposed to give out any details of the experience so that other people who do it in the future don't know what's coming, so I'll be vague.
I had no money and few possessions. I didn't shower. I ate, but not regularly or much. I slept outside. It was exhausting, hard, and eye opening. I will never forget it.
Leprosy is a very common ailment in the Bible. And today. There are entire leprosy camps in India and countries like it. When you have leprosy, your body becomes numb as it falls apart. You don't feel your finger falling off, or your nose--you are completely numb to the feeling of pain in that place.
I think I may have spiritual leprosy. I think most people do. The things that break God's heart, that as Christians are supposed to break ours, don't really affect us. We are numb to the pain. Starving children or homeless families should cause us pain, heart ache, but a lot of times they don't. Our hearts have become numb.
It's too easy to focus on our own lives, to see the world through our middle-class, privileged lenses. We are blessed, but that doesn't mean we should become numbed to the pain of the world. We are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
Jesus was poor. He was homeless. He ate with the prostitutes. Hung out with the tax collectors. Touched the untouchables. Healed the sick. He felt their pain. Their rejection. Their emptiness. And He helped them.
And so should we. Sometimes it requires giving money, sometimes not. Something I learned this weekend is that sometimes, people just need to tell their stories. They need someone to listen, to pray for them. I love hearing stories. If I can give up 15 to 20 minutes of my time, who know the affect that will have on their day.
I am praying that I can be moved as Jesus was moved, that I cry His tears, that my numb heart is broken and filled with Him. He is more than enough for me.
Until next time, listen to someone's story.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
When Helping Hurts
Charity.
A word that usually has good connotations, right? At least it always has in my mind. We were always making charity quilts to send to victims of natural disaster or donating clothes to Goodwill. Both good things.
But there are kinds of charity that are not always good things. I didn't know this. Now I'm going to share my knowledge with you. It's what I do.
In Robert D. Lupton's book Compassion, Justice, and the Christian Life: Rethinking Ministry to the Poor, he argues against the kind of ministry that does for people what they can do for themselves. "To do for others what they can do for themselves is to make recipients the objects of our pity and deprive them of human dignity."
Sure, "doing for" charity often is the first step in the journey, I am aware of this. But when we never allow or help the recipients move beyond hand outs, we are not helping them, we are hindering them from being self-sufficient. Giving is a good thing, but is it best for the people? "When recipeiants remain recipients and givers are content to remain givers, good has become the enemy of best."
I have never encountered such thinking, but it makes much sense. Our work is to help others help themselves. Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime.
"Perhaps the best giving is the kind that enables the poor to know the blessedness of being givers."
Until next time, give a little, get a little, love a lot.
A word that usually has good connotations, right? At least it always has in my mind. We were always making charity quilts to send to victims of natural disaster or donating clothes to Goodwill. Both good things.
But there are kinds of charity that are not always good things. I didn't know this. Now I'm going to share my knowledge with you. It's what I do.
In Robert D. Lupton's book Compassion, Justice, and the Christian Life: Rethinking Ministry to the Poor, he argues against the kind of ministry that does for people what they can do for themselves. "To do for others what they can do for themselves is to make recipients the objects of our pity and deprive them of human dignity."
Sure, "doing for" charity often is the first step in the journey, I am aware of this. But when we never allow or help the recipients move beyond hand outs, we are not helping them, we are hindering them from being self-sufficient. Giving is a good thing, but is it best for the people? "When recipeiants remain recipients and givers are content to remain givers, good has become the enemy of best."
I have never encountered such thinking, but it makes much sense. Our work is to help others help themselves. Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime.
"Perhaps the best giving is the kind that enables the poor to know the blessedness of being givers."
Until next time, give a little, get a little, love a lot.
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