MOLLY'S COMING!!!!

Hello again,

I hope these first days of 2011 have been good to you all. Does anyone besides us still have their Christmas tree up? Ours has certainly become a serious fire hazard. It hasn’t had water in at least a week or so, and I think we really need to take it down soon (this is one of those things we talk about a lot but never actually do) before it burns down our ol’ convent. There was a suggestion to leave it up until our Martin Luther King, Jr. party (which we’ll be hosting next Saturday), but I seriously think it needs to go before then.

Anyway, it has been a good week. I found myself more exhausted than usual almost every day, which might be me getting sick—I hope not!—like some of my housemates, or perhaps it means I’m in some sort of cloudy-weather, post-holiday stupor. Either way, I gave myself a good ten hours of sleep last night and woke up today feeling pretty rested. A nice run through the woods and on the Springwater Corridor trail was a wonderful way to start my Saturday (at 1pm, mind you), particularly because it actually hasn’t really rained today. Mt. Hood isn’t out at the moment, but I’m hoping that we get a few clear days next week because I have a special guest coming and I’d like her to see the mountain! Which leads me to this extremely exciting fact: Miss Molly Henry will be arriving in Portland on Tuesday evening. She’ll be with me throughout the week until Sunday night, and I can barely contain my enthusiasm. It has been WAY too long since I’ve seen her, and I am so so so so so so so excited!!! You’ll surely hear from me again after her visit, which is bound to be a good time.

Ready to party!

It turned out to be a pretty good New Year’s here. After I wrote last time (following my lovely solo hike), I went home and painted my nails all sparkly. Then we ordered pizza and got ready to go to Portland Morris House’s party for a bit. After dancing around with Lizzie for awhile, I left there with Erin and Daniel and went elsewhere. We rang in 2011 at a crammed club with confetti falling around us and a Lady Gaga-Madonna mash-up playing. Interesting, but a good time. On New Year’s Day, we all took it easy. After a day of lying around, though, I was happy when Colleen asked if anyone would like to go with her to do outreach. 

Colleen works for JOIN, a drop-in day shelter for Portland’s homeless community. Daniel and Linds work there too—they’re the Immersion Coordinator and the House Director, respectively—and this is where Colleen ended up after her first placement didn’t work out. She loves her new job, and I have heard a lot of stories about her evening drives around Portland to distribute blankets, chat with the men and women sleeping on the streets, and spread the word about JOIN and other resources/shelters available for them. I miss interacting with this community, as working with Milwaukee’s homeless was a huge part of my Marquette experience. So, Colleen and I headed out.

As I told my mother, rest assured that we were very careful. Usually Colleen goes out with one of the guys from JOIN who has many years of experience and street credit, and we were well aware that we are two women with no other protection than our pepper spray. We were cautious and didn’t approach anyone if the situation seemed possibly sketchy. Most of the people we talked to were settled in for the night, or trying to settle in. They were in sleeping bags or covered with blankets under bridges, in doorways, and on the street. We drove around, stopping when we saw someone, asking if people needed blankets or hats or socks. Colleen was already familiar with a lot of the people we encountered. It was a moving experience, though, driving through downtown Portland on a lively Saturday night. Instead of looking into bars or clubs or wondering what live band was playing a show in one of the above, we were perusing the streets for people who were going to spend the night in the cold.

We helped one guy get to an emergency warming shelter, we intimately covered another man with three blankets while he slept under a bridge (per the recommendation of another homeless man nearby who told us that he was warm enough but that “the guy over there” might need a blanket or two). We tried to talk to one woman whose camp was a total mess; there were rats scurrying in and out of the bushes, squeaking and eating the woman’s dog’s food. She seemed unfazed, and her lethargy was almost frightening. But for the most part, everyone we talked to was friendly and very kind. They told us when they needed something—and we helped if we could—and they also told us when they didn’t—and often guided us to someone who was in need. It was a really beautiful, very REAL, evening.

Interactions with people on the streets are so elemental, and there is something really refreshing about chatting with someone like that. I see now why outreach is an escape of sorts for Colleen. Sure, this work is heavy and emotional and discouraging some days, but it’s also some kind of rush. And you see the difference you’re making, however small, because it’s immediate. JOIN’s approach of sending outreach workers out on the streets is really cool because most situations where I’ve interacted with homeless people were set up so that they were the guests—at the shelter or the meal program or the drop-in center. This way, we were the guests. We tread carefully, announcing our presence as we neared someone’s camp and metaphorically “knocking” before entering their home. We were the vulnerable ones. We were the ones relying on their humility and hospitality, which they offered graciously. It was a different sort of interaction than any I’ve had, and very different from the work I do on a daily basis, so I was happy I got to be a part of it.

Colleen was at her best and brightest, which moved me just as much as anything that night. I told her this afterwards. Everyone deserves to be seen when they’re in their element. She was patient, compassionate, understanding, and graceful, and I was so impressed with her. You can tell that this work gives her life. So, another gift of the evening was certainly seeing my housemate through this lens because I feel like seeing that part of her was seeing her as complete as I’ve seen her this whole time, and even without too many words exchanged, it feels like we’re closer than we were when we left for outreach that evening.

Last night, we had a sleepover in our living room (although I think we all ended up going to bed in our actual beds after awhile). I love my housemates and I love spending time with them. We came to the realization that life will never be so “fluffy.” Yes, we’re doing hard work, but we’re also able to come home and just hang out. We make dinner, we do youth ministry or other evening work, but really…we have a lot of downtime to just enjoy each other’s company. Pretty amazing.

Alright, time to get ready to celebrate Jenna’s upcoming birthday. We’re headed to Edgefield again! I wish you all a happy Sunday and a wonderful week. Thinking of you, Peg, Ken, and Beth, in particular, and sending much love to Catherine begins her second year as an International Jesuit Volunteer in Chile… with her new community!

XOXO,

Amanda

Happy New Year!

For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes.
-Dag Hammarskjold, Swedish diplomat (1905 - 1961)

Dear ones,

Pilora's with Kelly and Bee.

Skating in Rob's yard with K.Fehr!

It was wonderful to be home for Christmas and to see so many of you. There was a nearly-48-hour period during which I never set foot outside of the confines of our house, which was pretty crazy. Overall, I had a very comfortable and happy visit at home and the week passed quickly, as always. Highlights include: having dinner with Alex and seeing Jess in Milwaukee on Monday night, grabbing coffee with Mara, eating at Pilora’s (our favorite… we give them so much business) with Kelly and Bee and catching up, seeing Katharine (!!!) and spending some time ice-skating on Rob’s backyard rink, eating cheese curds, checking out the Nutcracker exhibit at the Paine, and—of course—all of the Christmas festivities, including Grandpa’s Christmas Eve games, an extravaganza that words cannot even try to describe and pictures cannot do justice. I think the best Christmas gifts this year were my parents paying for part of my flight home, Rosetta Stone French, a crew of ducklings for an impoverished family (thanks to the Jesions and Heifer International), and a slow cooker from Santa. Pretty great.

It was also nice to come back to Gresham and see some of my housemates. Slowly, we are all trickling back in to our house from our various holiday travel adventures. Jillian went home to Buffalo, NY; Jenna went skiing in Utah with her family; Erin went home to Tacoma, WA; Lindsay went home to Davis, CA; Colleen went home to Escondido, CA; Daniel went skiing at Mt. Bachelor and then went home with his family to Washington; and Linds went home to Keizer, OR. When I got home, no one was around, but then Colleen returned, followed closely by Lindsay and then a day later Erin and Daniel. We won’t be complete until January 4^th, but following the New Year we’ll have Jenna and Linds back. I’m excited about the second half of our JV year (though it’s a bit more than half) and I think that our relationships will continue to deepen, which I look forward to. Tonight, of course, those of us who are around will be finding a [cheap] New Year’s Eve party and celebrating the first moments of 2011, hours after the first moments of 2011 on the east coast! You’ll all be in my thoughts as we move into another year.

Cutesy cousin picture.

I’m grateful that I was off today. Yay, agency holidays! I spent the morning on a solo hike at Powell Butte, only about two miles down the road. I woke up and the sun was streaming through my windows (a bit of a rarity) and I decided I had to get outside. It’s cold here, though not Wisconsin-cold, but it was a brisk and refreshing kind of cold for the most part. The barren hillside of the butte was a bit breezy, but I ventured into the mossy woods and marveled at the sound of the wind rushing through the trees as the tall and aged tree trunks ached and moaned in the cold. My favorite thing about forests in the Northwest is how lush and green they are. There are ferns on the forest floor, and there’s beautiful bright green moss crawling up most of the tree trunks. Some of the bark actually takes on a sage-turquoise color that I’ve never found in nature until this year. More than once, I stopped while hiking and closed my eyes and just listened to the woods around me. I had my iPod with me, but it didn’t even occur to me to turn it on and block out the natural symphony all around me. It was a really nice two hours, and when my chin was frozen and my belly was rumbling, I jumped on the 9 again and went back home for a hot shower, some lunch, and a visit to Café D (surprise surprise). Not a bad last day of 2010 so far! We don’t have concrete plans for the evening yet, but it is sure to take shape.

Cousins!

As for New Year’s resolutions, I’ve decided I’m not making a plan. My resolutions from last year were probably something about quitting my fifteen-year nail-biting habit and acquiring a musical talent, neither of which I managed to accomplish in 2010. But then again, a lot of really wonderful things did happen in 2010, which I never could have anticipated. So I have a feeling that any 2011 plans will come develop organically in a similar way. I hope the rest of my JVC year helps me to grow in community, in faith, and in awareness of my self and the world. I hope my family is healthy and happy and safe. I hope that my heart is peaceful, generous, and patient—and maybe that’s where my work is cut out for me sometimes, although my loving community is a nice context for practice. I also hope that I am able to risk delight, and on that note, I share a reflection from my journal last evening. These will be my last words to you all this year. See you in 2011! Have a safe and joy-filled New Year’s!

RISK DELIGHT.

Mt. Hood never gets old.

Today at work, Barbara treated me to a chai at Café D and told us all to go home early. The sun was out, I went to the gym this morning, I came up with tons of fun ideas for Molly’s visit (in less than two weeks!), and I got some good things done at work. Not bad! Work continues to be fulfilling and sometimes shocking, though I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon lately: I’ve stopped being terribly surprised when I ask someone what grade they’ve finished in school (part of the intake process) and they say “Second.” I’m no longer finding it odd to create the first resume that a 56-year-old man has ever had. And when I have to read someone’s mail to them out loud because she can’t read, I hardly flinch. Signatures that look like 1^st-graders’ writing, questions about seemingly simple stuff… I mean, maybe it should be odder to me, but it isn’t anymore. Every once in awhile, though, I have hyper-awareness days when, suddenly, I am struck by many of the aforementioned daily occurrences and moved by all of them.

Today one of my clients told me her house has cockroaches. I wanted to cry. She was still smiling, but her kids have seen rats before bed. Her husband was deported a few months ago (I helped her track him down in a nearby detention center when she had no idea where he had been taken). Sometimes it’s just too much.

Grandpa's games. There are no words to describe this...

At Spiritual Direction with Joyce Ann, she gave me some Advent prayers, one of which consisted of a quote along the lines of this: “We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure but not without delight. We must have the stubbornness to find goodness in the ruthless furnace of the world. To make injustice the sole object of our attention is to worship the devil.”

Like Fr. Byrne’s talk about beauty last month, this quote reminded me—as my mom has also—that there will always be something unfair and unjust and non-socially conscious to zero in on. We are obligated to do that sometimes, often in fact, even if it means that fun must be what we sacrifice because the means do not justify the ends. And yet, there is so much beautify and so much delight in the world! I have occasionally become irritated with people who are happy 24/7 and always talking about how great life is and how beautiful is this world (well, with the exception of Jill, whose eternal sunshine never annoys me). It almost strikes me as irresponsible on a certain level to take that approach because ignorance is bliss but we are not supposed to be unaware of the suffering of others, of our privilege, of the relation between the two. More than once, I have stopped short of being able to have a full-out good time because a sadness, a guilt, a heavy knowing that made me painfully aware of the fact that, while life may be amazing in my beautiful corner of the world, somewhere else one of my clients (or someone like them) I s going without.

 

Where is the balance? I seem to always be looking for balance. I don’t think I’m a pessimistic person; I do enjoy life’s simply pleasures, and today was a fine example of that. I am usually happy, although I can bask in the occasional poetic melancholy. Still, I am an Enneagram 8. I am able to find and be bothered by what’s wrong, what’s unfair, and what’s offensive more than other people. Call it my talent—ha!—or my burden. I cannot pretend the world is an ugly place; it simply is not, an d everyday I see God in my housemates, friends, family, clients, coworkers, and in strangers, and I am reminded to DARE to be delighted by that beauty in spite of the ugliness that may exist right alongside it all. Sometimes I really do feel like delight requires of me a certain commitment to risk-taking.

Sometimes the sad and the sweet are so inextricably interconnected (such is life, no?) that I can’t peel the layers of each one off the other and insist on pure delight or pure offense. But I do know that focusing only on the problems and inequalities that are equally as present to me on a daily basis is not always life-giving. Sometimes it’s motivating, but sometimes it can seem hopeless if I do not also make room for small pleasures and for guilt-free delight. Neither bliss nor injustice should consume all of one’s energy and attention. Delight need not always direct me immediately toward guilt. I feel myself becoming empty and then over-flowing in alternating rhythms all day. I think it is only in the emptiness that I can know a certain part of the Divine and of myself; I also realize that I will never know the fullness of either without tasting joy each day.

Boochie, come to Oregon!

Sometimes the joy moves me so close to sadness or tears that I mistake it for pain. Last week, I saw a baby chatting away in baby-speak to a seemingly homeless guy next to her and her mama on the bus and I could not keep from smiling broadly. That same lovely afternoon, an elderly, wrinkly lady told me at the bus stop that she was excited about waiting at her next bus stop because it faced the sun. After we got on the bus together, I told her to enjoy the sunshine at her next transfer. Two stops later (an easy walk for most, she got off the bus and headed to her sunny haven, a rusty bench beside an abandoned building and a deserted parking lot—facing directly into the warm sun. I guess it’s about perspective sometimes. I felt tinges of sadness (or something like it in both instances, though I don’t think these were sad moments. What is it about such pure joy that almost drives me to sadness? It’s a fine and beautiful line, I suppose, one I’m still learning to walk, but life is hardly ever just one thing at once.

Grandpa and Zena.

A man who works with me in the youth ministry program at St. Henry’s has been an enigma to me, but I always make it a point to say hello to him on Wednesdays and on Sundays at Mass. After Taize two weeks ago, he unexpectedly opened up while walking me home (a sweet offer considering I live across the street). We were knee-deep in conversation before I knew it, discussing family and community and school and God. I am reminded again and again to remain present to whatever might come. People surprise me. God surprises me. Life surprises me. I have had so many good conversations and so many giggles with my community simply because I make myself available and then it happens. I think that’s the point. Be ready. Be still. Be sturdy. Be empty. Be soft inside. Like a manger, as one Advent prayer phrased it. And then be FILLED with confusing and complicated joy.

Me, Lucas, and baby Miranda.

I guess my 2011 goals are for eyes and ears and a heart that are always open. And my prayer, in the words of Mary Oliver, is this: "May I never not be frisky. May I never not be risque." Because life happens outside the box. Risk delight!

With much love, cheers to the New Year.

Amanda

PS: Speaking of joy and friskiness, see below for a special belated Christmas greeting from Gresham. Remember, people are complicated too-- no one is ONLY nice or naughty.

 

 

Rough Week and a Reflection

Hi friends and family,

I wanted to write again because this week has been tough at work but I've also received lots of love. I've been pretty stressed, and I was also responsible for a fairly colossal error, which was NOT fun. I picked up the pieces by calling to cancel twenty appointments, thus disappointing that many individuals to whom I  had promised assistance with light/heat bills. Things have been a bit harder without Sandra here because there's not always someone around who has the answers I need. Still, I have a wonderful staff at work and I'm grateful for everybody at EPH. I have a lot of responsibilities, perhaps more than I should have considering I am a volunteer with just four months under my belt, and this week I just feel like I'm buried under a bunch of work. I know I'll catch up eventually, but the major emotional blow was definitely having to cancel those energy assistance appointments.

Anyway, thank you to Molly for spending an hour on the phone with me during Finals Week. Also to Jill for the belated and wonderful birthday surprise ($$ for Cafe D!) and to St. Nick who mysteriously found his way to the Gresham community and showered all eight of us with treats. I very much appreciate your long-distance love. This week has definitely had its blessings (despite my complaining). We had dinner with the Jesuits and Lindsay and I went to the Contemplative Mass at St. Ignatius afterwards, which is always nice. I had tostadas for lunch one day at work. I tackled Lindsay in the living room. We got a Christmas tree (carried it a half block home, as I mentioned) and have now made decorations for it. My ornament is pretty hideous, but some of my very talented housemates have embroidered owls and other lovely ornaments. Tonight, at Mac House in Portland, we're having an Advent gathering for current and former JVs, support people, family and friends. I would love to share with you the reflection that I'm reading this evening. It will follow this entry.

Finally, I want to clarify one thing: I AM excited to come home. It's just going to be a bit of a shock. And I am very aware of the fact that many of my clients have family in Mexico and do not have the means to go home for the holidays, so it does set me apart from them and I am trying to close that gap just a bit this year. Still, please don't get me wrong... I fear I may have hurt some of your feelings, but that was NOT my intention. I am most definitely eager to see you, hug you, and spend time celebrating Christmas with you. My heart is merely split, that is all.

Have a wonderful day. Keep me in your prayers, please, and I'll keep you all in mine. Here's tonight's reflection. Happy Advent. Lots of love.

Amanda


THE WORD "I"



Franz Wright

Harder to breathe

near the summit, and harder


to remember

where you came from,


why you came


Winter's

harder, and harder to say

the word "I"

with a straight face,

and sleep--


who can sleep. Who has time


to prepare for the big day

when he will be required

to say goodbye to everyone, including

the aforementioned pronoun, relinquish

all earthly attachment

completely, and witness

the end of the world--


harder in other words

not to love it
not to love it so much

REFLECTION (mine):
During Advent, we get the feeling that we, like the speaker in the poem, are climbing toward a summit or a “something bigger”— and we are. As we journey toward the grand celebration of Christmas, we too might find that it is difficult to breathe and to remember where we come from. Mainstream society has been telling us that it’s time for Christmas since just after Halloween and if we’re not in Christmas mode, we have fallen behind. We have been inundated with Christmas songs, Christmas sales, and the stress of the holidays. How can we resist this whirlwind of activity? Who has time these days to remember who we are and why we have come here when there are gifts to purchase, houses to clean, and cookies to bake?

It is easy to lose ourselves in this festive cacophony; it is certainly easy to overlook and even entirely skip Advent, a liturgical season that seems completely out of sync with the rhythm of our hectic lives. Yet, this time of active anticipation, against the tide of secular culture, moves us to breathe deeply and gently, examine our ways, and allow ourselves to feel not pressured and constricted but liberated and expanded. During Advent, we create room inside our hearts and our lives for reflection, service, penance, and quiet. But rather than stretching ourselves so that we can “do” Advent along with all of the other things we’re trying to do, perhaps the key to Advent is accepting that it is less about doing than about simply BEING: being attentive, being aware, and being present in this moment rather than counting down the days until Christmas.

The speaker in the Franz Wright poem struggles to reconcile a love for the world and its creatures with a sobering understanding that the end of his time on earth is fast approaching. In these fragile and finite moments, the speaker becomes aware of a profound, almost painful, attachment to this life. Despite this tension, he is able to articulate a deepening love that can only be the result of a genuine inner freedom. Perhaps in these final days, weeks, or months, he finds himself more in tune with the everyday wonders that he has, for years, been a bit too busy to appreciate. Perhaps he now sees that these simple miracles are the things he will miss the most when he has gone from this life. Perhaps he is discovering within himself a capacity for joy, gratitude, and compassion that he never thought possible. Maybe he, only after having arrived at his life’s final stages, is finally released from the rush of trying to get somewhere.

Stillness is not something that we normally associate with the busy weeks leading up to Christmas, but gatherings like this one remind us to slow down and savor, to simplify, to focus on the interior rather than the exterior, to put our energy into relationships rather than material things. As we approach the third Sunday of Advent, we might ask ourselves how we’re doing so far. Has it taken us these past two weeks just to quiet ourselves? Are we still starting Advent, even as the Advent clock ticks away? Or have we been able to take advantage of this opportunity to refresh and reflect before the jubilance of December 25th?

We prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but we also prepare for the daily arrival of Jesus into our hearts. Amidst all of the noisy chaos of the season, we turn inward and listen for the peaceful voice of the Spirit within us. We ask who we are, why we are here, and where we have come from— and then listen patiently and with much hope for the still, small whisper of response. We commit ourselves to one another and to the Lord through service, community, and reflection and invite God into our lives in a special way. Like the speaker in the poem, we also prepare, each day, for the moment when we will leave this world for another. We are reminded that detachment is hard, that this world is a beautiful and incredible place, and that we have but a small period of time to let it seep in. Advent invites us to examine the ways in which we spend these precious moments and to re-dedicate our lives to the practice of boundless, Christ-like love.

This is the hard work we should be doing during Advent, and we might take a moment to consider: What is our ultimate destination, and what value does this journey hold for us? What is the opportunity that we have been given this Advent season, and how have we responded to it? Where have we seen God’s amazing work these busy days? Who or what has been a light for us during this dark winter? What have we done to allow Christ’s compassion, justice, and peace to settle in our hearts and minds? How might we breathe easier so that when the time for celebration arrives, we are rejuvenated and overflowing with joy?

Stop and take a look.

Happy Advent!

For Catholics, the Liturgical year has begun anew with the beginning of the Advent season, the four-week period of preparation and patience before the Christmas celebration. Although Best Buy, Target, and pretty much every other retailer in this country have already been promoting the holiday spirit for several months, Advent asks us to be calm and a bit counter-cultural as we resist the inundation of commercialism. Instead, we’re supposed to spend these weeks praying, doing penance, and in service to one another. We are to make a space in her lives and in our hearts, amidst all of the busyness surrounding this season, for peaceful and quiet reflection. It’s a check-in, a time out. A gentle crescendo. A steady and deliberate procession toward the coming of Christ. It’s hard, but I think Advent is a beautiful opportunity to take inventory.

With that, I find myself taking a look at how I’ve done so far in this program. The four pillars of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps are spirituality, social justice, community, and simplicity. Together, they provide a pretty holistic blueprint for the life I feel God calls me to live, and there is much to explore when thinking about each of those values. They are inextricably connected so that simplicity has everything to do with social justice, spirituality, and community, but the individual words are helpful in terms of my own focus and reflection. There’s a lot packed in to each of these—so much so that you’d be reading for quite awhile if I shared all of my thoughts on all of them!—but I think that I will share a few lessons/conclusions/food for thought/goals/ideas related to the central tenets of JVCNW and my attempts to live them out.

First, with regard to simplicity, I think that our $80 personal stipend can easily be mistaken for the sole rubric by which to measure one’s progress. While living on the $80 is in fact one of the goals of JVC, it is just one tangible and consistent (across all JVC regions and communities) method for encouraging simple living. Living on a stipend and patting one’s self on the back after spending less than the allotted $80 each month doesn’t mean that this one gets checked off the list, though. Simplicity, as I’m realizing, has everything to do with where and how I spend my money. The stipend has helped me get more creative, it has helped me savor delightful treats when I do choose to spend my money on them, and it has been responsible for many memorable moments that have followed from a decision to do something or go somewhere just because it’s free.

Guess who I got to see!!! That's the Alhambra, PS.

Yet, simple living is also about where I put my energy, how I spend my time, the way I use my words, my perception of silence, my use of technology, and my interpersonal relationships. I am making attempts to single-task (less simultaneous walking/texting/eating). I am resisting the urge to fill every moment of silence (while reading, scrapbooking, or writing) with music; instead, I reserve my iPod use for my runs, and I try to spend more time in a calm silence that I’m beginning to accept and enjoy. I leave my cell phone in my room when I’m at home so that I’m able to be more present to my community. I’m trying to listen more, use fewer (but more thought-out) words, and enjoy—more than anything—the simple company of a friend or two. My calendar is still full (always will be), but I am careful about my commitments and I think about what might be the best use of my time and energy, focusing on quality rather than quantity. Like I said: I’m trying.

These are just a few of the small, less obvious ways that simplicity is infiltrating my everyday life, and they extend far beyond the materialistic focus that the $80 stipend attempts to erode. Still, I will say, living on the $80 is still part of the deal. I’m tempted to say, “Oh, I get this,” and then pay less attention to whether or not I still live on the stipend; but the point is to do it for the whole year, even after I think I understand the more deeper and underlying principles. It’s a balance of grasping the ideology and also committing to—and following through on—this one, tangible, trackable challenge.

Social justice is something that’s never far from a JV’s mind, especially because we spend our days at nonprofits and social service organizations. We work in clinics, domestic violence shelters, homeless shelters, meal programs, food pantries, environmental justice organizations, refugee resettlement programs, law offices, and myriad other agencies and offices. But the primary goal of our work, diverse as it may be, is to serve the under-served, to look at the world from their perspective, and to work to create institutions and systems that reflect the truth that there is no “us” and “them.” Many of the problems we work against or work to solve are deeply entrenched in our social structures. They are connected to one another in ways that are sometimes obvious and sometimes far more subtle. Everyone who comes into El Programa Hispano has a number of issues. In one appointment, a client might ask me for a food voucher to a meal program, a recommendation for an immigration lawyer, assistance with their energy bill, counseling for their child, and help with a phone call that they can’t make in English.

In the Alhambra. So beautiful!

Realizing that these problems are all interconnected can be overwhelming. Where do we start? When I think about all the work that has to be done at EPH, I am reminded how under-qualified I might be for this position. I can’t help thinking that someone else could do certain parts of my job far better than I can. And when I do help someone, it’s tempting to get discouraged even in that moment of joy simply because I know that there’s so much more they need, so much policy and systemic change that needs to be overhauled, and so many more individuals and families who have not yet received help. This is humbling because I am reminded again and again that I am but one person, that I am a broken vessel through which God is working toward some purpose that, to me, seems to never come to complete fruition.

I am understanding, though I sometimes have to re-understand it, that “it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness,” even if I can only light one, small, weak candle. Helping one family stay warm this winter, regardless of the fact that there are thousands of other families who are about to get their heat turned off, is in and of itself an accomplishment that merits joy and gratitude. I am also trying to remind myself that, although perhaps someone else (a native Spanish speaker?) could perform certain daily tasks better, I am the one who is here. As Teresa of Avila said, “God has no hands or feet on earth but ours.” I’m the one who’s here. The client in front of me is the person I can help in this moment. This small reaching-out is an act that could, for all I know, tip the scales. I can never know the good that I do, and some things that seem small to me (writing a letter for someone) are much bigger for others. I can never see the complete results (this is where faith enters). I must remember to be joyful, grateful, and appreciative of the beauty I see everyday despite the fact that I always remember its ever-present twin of oppression, injustice, and pain.

And, like everything in JVC, this angle—the world through the lens of my low-income immigrant clients—promises to “ruin me for life.” A social-justice oriented life always asks questions, always digs deeper, always searches for connections. It means thinking about my food (where does it come from, and how much energy is used to produce it?), thinking about my language (does it say what I really want to say or do I rely on culturally or racially inappropriate expressions?), and reconsidering my “norm” (why drive and deal with parking when public transportation is a perfectly effective and more affordable alternative?). In an effort to experience solidarity—something I don’t think I can ever fully do—I try to think about my clients, and this adds a richness but a weightiness to my decisions.

When I come home for Christmas, as excited as I am to see all of you and as blessed as I am to have the chance to spend the holiday with my family, I am well-aware of the fact that most of my clients can’t fly home to their families, some of whom are in Mexico. When I eat at a restaurant, as much as I enjoy the experience, I can’t help but wonder about the hard-working, low-wage workers in the kitchen, bussing the tables, and washing the dishes. When I stand at the bus stop (the subject of a recent poem I wrote), I feel myself treading a strange line, somewhere between the strangers huddled beside me and the guy in the Volvo, sipping Starbucks at the red light. It’s not bad or wrong to drive, to buy a coffee, to take a vacation, etc. But this year is certainly giving me another dimension of thought and consideration regarding those privileges. Many of my clients are hard-working, family-oriented, wonderful people. But even those who are fortunate enough to have full-time employment struggle to take care of their families. Recognizing that I am, by some sort of grace I did not earn, part of a system that allows my hard work to guarantee some sort of security while others working just as hard are all too familiar with doors being slammed in their faces… that’s the point. And then acting on that.

As for community and spirituality— I’ll be brief because I feel like I’ve already gone on too long— I learn and grow daily. My housemates are a wonderful group of people, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have landed in a house full of spirited, compassionate, thoughtful people. They’re not exactly hard to love. Still, we disagree. We come from different places, we have different ideas about things, and we communicate differently. It has been a challenging but rewarding journey so far, and if anyone thinks “love” is a fluffy, sparkly noun, I beg to differ. Love gets its hands dirty. Love gets naked (not literally… necessarily). Love assumes the best even when it would be easier to place blame. Love remains patient even when writing someone off would require far less effort. Love sees potential where there isn’t obvious promise. And “like” isn’t always a prerequisite for “love.” In fact, there’s something about meeting someone and deciding, “I will love this person.” You don’t have to like them. You don’t have to want to spend time with them. But loving them does just as much for you as it does for them.

This, and everything for me, is closely linked to my spirituality which, more and more, finds its roots in Matthew 25 in which Jesus reminds us that whatever we do for the naked, the hungry, the ill, the imprisoned, the thirsty, and lonely, and the stranger… we do for him. Even the smallest gesture. Jesus hung out with a pretty rag-tag bunch of individuals. Jesus touched people, ate with people, spoke to people that no one else at that time would have ever gotten close to. Jesus preached love of neighbor AND love of enemy. Jesus assumed goodwill of the sinner, the tax collector, the prostitute, and the worst criminals of his era. What does it mean to live out this sort of radical love? It certainly means stepping outside of my comfort zone and stretching the limits of my patience and my faith in others. It requires vulnerability, as real love always does. “Love,” says one of my favorite quotes, “means being out on a limb together.”

In my house, and in my relationship with God these days, I feel like I’m slowly learning to bare it all when it comes to the person I am, the person I hope to be, and the present moment in which I find myself (and all of its joys and difficulties). In doing this, I expect and know that I will be warmly received by God (always) and by my seven housemates (most of the time… no one’s perfect!). This mutual trust allows each person to be him or herself. We work out the kinks in each of our personalities, but we do it in a communal context. We love one another despite the fact that we piss each other off. Again and again, I am amazed by my housemates. I know that I have spoken words that have been hurtful. I know that I have done things that were less than considerate. And still, most of the time at least, I feel pretty safe and pretty loved. No earthly love can be as unconditional or as constant as the love of God, but striving to live that love is one way, perhaps the most important way, to follow the example of Christ. For me anyway, that’s the whole point of this year. I am still learning and still improving, but these last four months have certainly provided much opportunity for growth. And still so much, to quote the poet Denise Levertov, “is in the bud.” I am only a third of the way through my JVC year, and I anticipate many more important experiences and insights.

Alcazar Real, Sevilla, Spain.

Now, for a swift subject change. As some of you may be aware, I recently spent a week in Spain, visiting my dear sister in the southern city of Granada and, from there, exploring the hub of Andalusian culture, Sevilla. My Picasa site features a full album of photos from the trip, so I won’t expand too much here. I will say that my first adventure on the other side of the pond was greatly enjoyable, thanks to the company of Mom, Aunt Vic, Al, and our Spanish hostess Britt. I had some reservations about traveling to Europe in the midst of my simple living JVC year, and to be honest it felt pretty strange to be eating out, ordering bottles of wine, and buying souvenirs. Still, there is a balance that must be struck, and I would have regretted not going to a far more serious degree than the guilt/confusion I wrestled with when considering what to do about this opportunity.

I am glad I went. I am happy I got to see part of Britt’s study-abroad world because it was so very valuable to come home to Mom and Brittany, who both knew the sound of my host mom’s voice, the taste of an empanada, and the sound of Jose Miguel’s guitar at the local pub after my semester in Chile. Plus, southern Spain is beautiful! The Alhambra is striking and incredible. The twisted, cobblestone streets of Granada and Sevilla are exactly as I imagined them. The tapas are delicious and possibly the best idea ever. How could I have missed this experience? The trip, with three of my female family members, will always be a memorable one. 

Mama and her babies. And Plaza Espana.

This year, I don’t exist in a bubble. The homesickness would be a struggle, but in a lot of ways it would be easier to stay here, to not come home this year. I wouldn’t have to figure out how to integrate into my life at home the things I’m thinking about or the changes in myself that I am making here. Too bad life doesn’t work like that! The wonderful family and friends I had before JVC will be with me throughout and after this experience. I will have opportunities. I will have decisions to make. And I think it’s important to live a synchronized life… because it IS all connected. There are not distinct realities going on here, so although the Spain trip was a strange and sudden merging of my “lives” that I wasn’t completely prepared for, it may have been a good experience to have. Coming home for Christmas, I know, will be another lovely but slightly strange experience. I look forward to seeing many of you, though, in particular Grandpa, Dad, and Buckles, since it has been too long without the men of my life!

Thanks, as always, for accompanying me on this journey. Thanks for your prayers, your packages and letters, and your support and patience. Thanks, Mom, for the wonderful vacation. Thanks, Jill, for the belated birthday surprise. Dad, thank you for the football updates. Brittany, thank you for hosting us despite our sometimes overwhelming and frustrating needs. Molly, thank you for being my soundboard. Katharine, thank you for being strong, smart, and beautiful… and for giving me hope that I’ll see you AND Josh in the same month come February. I love you all, and I’ll see (some of) you soon.

XOXO,

Amanda

PS I have decided that I love Oregon/Portland. 

PPS We bought a Christmas tree and carried it home a half mile. It's gorgeous.

Happy early Thanksgiving!

Friends,

I lament that it has been awhile since my last post. I can tell you that life has been BUSY! My responsibilities at work have increased substantially and I am extremely occupied most of the time. Today, I said goodbye to Sandra (my supervisor) because she’ll leave for her 3-month sabbatical while I’m in Spain. I don’t know what we’re going to do without her, but I have been assured that we’ll do a beautiful job of holding down the fort. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous!

This month, though, I’m fortunate to have some vacation time. Tomorrow, I leave for Spain to visit my sister (with Mom, Aunt Vicki, and B’s friend Al), so I’m extremely excited about that. It still seems really weird to be jetting off to Europe amidst my year of simple living, but trying to reconcile the two realities—life pre-JVC and this yearlong commitment—is always a struggle. I think, for me, missing this experience would be a major mistake and a major regret. It was so important to have my mom and sister visit me in Chile because they then knew what my room looked like, what the ice cream tasted like, the way my host mom’s voice sounded, and how amazing the view from Cerro San Cristobol is. These things need a place to land when you get home, and it’s incredible if someone you love is able to be that person who understands. I want to be part of that for my sister during and after her time abroad. I’m really excited, though I will honestly miss my community and El Programa Hispano. No doubt they’ll be present in my mind throughout the trip.

What else can I tell you?

In the Japanese Garden with some friends on Vets' Day.

I had Veterans’ Day off, and I took advantage of the fact that the Japanese Gardens were free that day. It was fun roaming around the gardens with Jenna and some friends from Morris House, though it was a bit too wet and cold. Still, I’d love to take some of you to the Japanese Garden if and when you visit. Normally, admission is about ten bucks, so it was a JV’s dream to have both the day off and the garden free day coincide.

My birthday was Monday, so I celebrated the weekend before with my community. On Saturday, we went to Edgefield, a really fun estate with spas, hotels, restaurants, bars, etc. We went to a $3 movie and then had a cheap wine tasting flight (delicious!) while listening to some pretty decent live music. We got lucky and the band was actually really talented, so that was enjoyable. Afterwards, we ended up at our local watering hole where everybody really does know our name (4^th Street Brewery). Lizzie spent the night after so graciously commuting to the ‘burbs to party with us, and the next morning she joined me and my community at Mass at a beautiful locale called The Grotto. Vic and Mom, you’d love this! It was another rainy day, but I’d love to return for the Christmas season’s festival of lights and again in the spring. Still, it was what I wanted to do with my weekend and I was so grateful that my community members came with me, even those who probably would have preferred to sleep in instead.

On my actual birthday, I received a delicious surprise at work when Sandra ordered an enormous, beautiful birthday cake for the staff on my behalf. So sweet of them! At home, we had dinner and I ate MORE cake, this one a marvelous pumpkin cheesecake creation, courtesy of the resident culinary genius, Ms. Lindsay Poston. I opened beautiful gifts from Mom and Dad and Molly, and gifts and cards have been trickling in throughout the week from a number of you. Seriously, you’re all too generous, too thoughtful, and too sweet. Everyone here is now completely aware that I am incredibly spoiled!

Another gorgeous rainbow in Gresham!

I’d love to tell you more (and I’m sure you’d love to sit there and read for an hour, right?) but lucky for you I have to go home and cook dinner, prepare myself to go to Harry Potter at midnight—you heard me correctly—and then go to sleep for three hours before getting to the airport to go to SPAIN!!! So, this is all very exciting.

I wish you the happiest of Thanksgiving celebrations. Someone please make sure my dad gets some turkey since our Spain escapades are disrupting the usual holiday plans!

Katharine, Mikey, Diesel, Crunchy, Jillian, and Brittany, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

And Granada, prepare yourself. Here we come! Nos vemos prontisimo, mi hermanita!

Love to you all.

Amanda 

Hope in Thin Places

Well, friends, here we are at the start of the best month of the year: November! Actually, it’s not my favorite… but it’s birthday season. So, a happy birthday month to: Brittany, Michael, Diesel, Katharine, Zak, Crunchy, Jillian, and all you other Valentine’s Day babies! I celebrate with you.

Here’s the highlight reel:

1. We have now converted from regular yogurt to Greek yogurt. I highly suggest grape nuts and a bit of honey with the plain yogurt. Yum.

2. I got to Skype with Britt! Of course, after catching up on her travels to Barcelona and Portugal, I now find myself behind again. She’s already come and gone again—to Paris, this time! I’m jealous, though I am awfully excited to visit her this month!

3. Jenna has been gone all week for med school interviews out east. We miss her! The house doesn’t seem the same when one of us is gone for this long. Still, we’re all sure she’s dominating her interviews. In her absence, some of the more vehement carnivores in our house planned a Meat Lovers’ meal at Crunchy’s last night (he happily joined in as our host and head chef). We had bacon-wrapped meat loaf, macaroni’n’cheese’n’bacon, and a salad…which we brought. I didn’t eat too much meatloaf. I don’t eat too much meat these days in general, though I still find it hard to pass up a good chicken salad.

4. I facilitated a spirituality night recently. We made prayer flags (in the Tibetan tradition). It went over really well! A big thank you to FJV Molly Wolk for the supplies and the support!

5. Youth Ministry has been going really well. It’s a good commitment for me in my “spare” time. Last week, I was able to channel some of the kids’ energy through a few dynamic activities I had planned, and they were really receptive. I’ll have to keep getting creative and dreaming up games that teach our lessons. It’s been fun talking to 8th-graders about things like social justice, peace-making, social sin, community, human dignity, and other important issues. It has also made me really grateful for the many people in my life who have shaped my spiritual journey… especially those high-school youth ministers who worked SO HARD. Our youth ministry program is nothing compared to the LIFETEEN of my high school days, but it’s a good program nonetheless and a good use of my time and talents.

6. After a busy morning last Friday (we had an All-Staff meeting at the Catholic Charities office in Portland), I helped Sandra finish putting together a baby shower for two of our staff members, Sara and Carmen. I came up with game ideas and facilitated those, which was an interesting experience since I’ve never actually attended a baby shower before! Anyway, it was fun. Which reminds me: congratulations to Greg and Mary… and welcome, Mia Marie! You’re beautiful!

7. The book I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived! I have been so patient!! It was incredibly tempting to go on amazon.com and buy it, have it shipped, and read it when I wanted to. Still, I’m trying to use the library whenever possible and, on occasion, purchase a used book. So I waited. Patiently. Forever! And I’m finally reading—slowly so as to savor!—Let the Great World Spin. I love it so far!

8. We are famous in Gresham. The guy at the front desk at LA Fitness knows us by name, as does Ginger, our favorite person ever from our local bank. She’s the only one who knows what to do with a “community bank account” that has nine signers.

9. MUEX XXIII, I prayed for you and thought of you this past weekend. I can’t wait to hear from some of you retreatants and leaders. I sincerely hope you had a wonderful Marquette Experience!

10. Halloween was a hit. We attended Crunchy’s/St. Henry’s Halloween parish party, held in our parking lot, and participated in Trunk-or-Treat (handing out candy from your car trunk). And then we went to the big kids’ party at Morris House and danced the night away. Oh yeah, and we had the best costume ever. See photo.

And now for a bit of elaboration on a handful of topics.

Primero (I typed that before I could even realize I was turning this into a Spanglish blog), I’ll tell you a bit about our JVC retreat, which was the weekend before last. We left on Friday afternoon, after having the day off, and met everyone at the retreat center near Molalla, OR. The grounds were lovely but small, featuring a few hiking trails and some beautiful fall colors. One of my favorite things about the Northwest continues to be the vibrant green moss that climbs all over the tree trunks, branches, and logs alongside the trails. It’s such a gorgeous color and it’s so different from the woods at home. Anyway, the retreat was for all of the JVs in our “Cascades region,” so there were some 75 of us in a cozy lodge. Sleeping was tough the first night because I was the first bed inside an oblong room full of bunks so I heard everybody walking past me to go to sleep. The next two nights, though, my body adjusted and I got some decent rest in my sleeping bag.

The best part about the retreat was seeing Beth and hanging out with Lizzie. I miss Beth, and I don’t see Lizzie as much as I wish I did even though we’re so close, so it was really wonderful to be able to catch up with them at a more leisurely pace. In addition, I got to hang out and chat with a bunch of other JVs, some of whom I hadn’t really gotten a chance to know at Orientation. The pace of the retreat was a lot slower than Orientation, too, which I appreciated. There was ample free time, allowing Lindsay and I to go on a 5.5-mile morning run, which was absolutely beautiful. We also had plenty of time to hang out as a community, and we even made dinner (for everybody!) and put on a skit, so we had a lot of laughs together throughout the weekend—as well as several important conversations.

The central “curriculum” of this retreat was about Right Relationships, and the tool we used to discuss this theme was a personality test known as the Enneagram. It’s a pretty popular test and you may have heard of it or perhaps you’ve taken it. Anyway, it’s a test that puts you into one of nine different personality groups, all of which have their individual strengths and areas for growth. There’s a lot of room for movement within the Enneagram structure as well; each personality group, when stressed, has a tendency to move toward another particular group, and the same is true when one is particularly healthy or “evolved.” So, it was interesting to find out what we all are, to talk about the way our diversity impacts our communication and the house dynamic, and to spend some time doing a bit of introspection. My housemates reiterated messages I’ve heard all my life from my parents and they echoed some of my own sentiments from recent conversations with Molly, so it wasn’t too tough to believe them when they all looked at me and said, “You’re an 8. You’re definitely, absolutely an 8.” Get ready to laugh…

Some of the EPH women before the baby shower.

Eights are the most intense of all personality types. They are most passionate about justice, fair use of power, and leveling the playing field so that the underdogs and the oppressed are no longer. They are assertive and opinionated, though sometimes this comes across as a bit intimidating or domineering. Some people don’t know how to respond to an Eight, which frustrates an Eight more than almost anything (aside from inaction). In addition, Eights are challengers. They push people to do better and to be more, but sometimes this seems overly-critical and perhaps a bit sharp. Eights need to watch the way they say things. They need to slow down. They need to be aware of their impact on others and seek to be a bit more gentle and patient in their presentation. I can already hear my mom laughing her butt off. Anyway, Eights are natural leaders, good friends and protectors, and extremely strong people. My housemates are not Eights. In fact, pretty much no one else on retreat was an Eight! Anyway, pretty interesting that Enneagram…

 Secondly, a bit of a reflection. On Friday, at our all-staff meeting, Fr. Byrne was the featured speaker. He is a Jesuit and actually said the Mass on our JVCNW retreat recently, so it was nice to see him again. He spoke mainly on the topic of hope, something that keeps coming up in my life! It has been an important theme, from the Camp Hope/Chile mine story to the poems, books, songs, art, and headlines that are catching my eye lately. It’s a bit puzzling, actually. But again this word came up when Fr. Byrne spoke to us at our meeting about continuing to look for beauty, joy, and gratitude—even after you’ve “considered all the facts” (Wendell Berry). I think this is a particularly important point for me right now, especially regarding my service this year. It can be really hard not to get bogged down by the pain and suffering, the injustice, and the struggle that I see on a daily basis. Sometimes it seems overwhelming. Stifling, even. It seems that my piece—whatever it is that I am doing this year or will do in my entire life—is too small.

But then I am reminded of my favorite prayer, often attributed to Oscar Romero, called “The Long View,” in which I am reminded that “we plant the seeds that someday will grow… we cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in that—this enables us to do something and to do it very well… we are prophets of a future not our own.” Fr. Byrne read us something else, called “Letter To a Young Activist During Troubled Times” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. (Please read and enjoy at your leisure.) The point is, there’s a whole lot that can get a person down these days. But somewhere in all of that pain and suffering, there is a space for joy. For gratitude. And for hope. In fact, it is in these moments and in people who are experiencing these hardships that hope, gratitude, and joy are sometimes the most palpable to me.

Fr. Byrne put this perfectly into words when he spoke of a Celtic notion of “thin places,” physical places—and I suppose you can extend this concept to people and even moments—where the veil between our world and the realm of the Divine is so thin that the Divine leaks through. Often, the Celts believed, births and deaths are thin places. The Celtic cross was one marker of thin places, which is why it is used on so many grave markers. I think my world is full of thin places, but maybe I go looking for them—on hikes, in the mail, and on my dinner plate even. And surely my work is a place full of them… I have no other way to explain the way my clients’ hurt touches my own heart and the pain in their eyes makes me want to cry. Fr. Byrne said that the poor, vulnerable, and marginalized are particularly close to the heart of Jesus (and thus particularly important to the Church) precisely because of their suffering. So, it is no wonder that thin places are often also the places, moments, and faces where we encounter these suffering hearts, these downtrodden and bent-over people (the anawim in the Sciptures), those who are loved by God in a very special way.

Today was an incredibly intense day at work. Perhaps I should title this blog post “Things that are not in my job description” because today was a parade of unexpected duties. I laughed when Sandra reminded me that, in fact, I am also here to perform “other duties as needed,” and that little clause means that everything and anything is in my job description! Today I created an agreement for a tenant and her landlord to sign. I advocated for a woman whose jerkface of a landlord is overcharging her. I am particularly frustrated with said jerkface because he leaves messages in English on my client’s cell phone and, knowing she can’t understand him, mutters things at the end of them like “These people are so retarded” that are clearly supposed to be heard by whoever translates these messages for her (me). This sets my little Eight self ablaze. Anyway, I also did some notarizing, facilitated another Dental Van clinic, argued with the electric company about one of my clients’ recent disconnections, and—here’s the big one—told someone that his brother was killed in a really ugly car accident yesterday and then proceeded to help make arrangements for shipping the body to Mexico (not cheap).

I am reminded again and again that there is a balance that must be struck. I cannot help but internalize things at work. Why? Because it’s not just work. This is what was so jolting to me when I was at L.A. Fitness and saw the résumé I had made for a client lying there on the desk. Suddenly, try as I might to pretend that I was in “my non-work world,” I became aware of the fact that there was never any separation between this world and my “work world.” The two realities coexist, and while I do have to leave some of the emotions, frustrations, and stories behind when I leave the office in order to preserve my own sanity, it’s impossible for me to leave it all behind. Is there any way to NOT think about this guy and his family today, for example, after I was told by the funeral director that the corpse is in awful condition? After I discussed embalming and death certificates and caskets all afternoon? I am not seeking to completely numb myself to the people and things I encounter everyday from 9-5. And I’m also not seeking to be so rattled by it all that my other relationships, or my self-care, suffers.

Somewhere, there’s a balance, and I think achieving balance in our lives is a two-step process (I should probably write a book about this). First, admitting that there’s no way we can do everything allows us to humble ourselves before a bigger, greater power of some sort. So, I need to continue to remind myself that I am a vessel (and a broken one at that) through which God can do God’s work. My job is to make my hands, my heart, my head, my time, my energy, and my talents available to God and to be patient and persevering even as I continually mess up the opportunities God gives me. Secondly, I think a lot of it has to do with something that Fr. Byrne also mentioned: seeking beauty and making sure that we keep beauty in our lives. Dorothy Day of the Catholic Worker movement allegedly listened to Mozart every Sunday and this was refreshing and rejuvenating for her in her difficult work with the poor.

The good news is that I see beauty all over the place. The world is dripping with it, and the people in my life are soaking wet with clear blue beauty. For example, the Sufjan Stevens concert on Friday was so incredibly moving and so astonishingly lovely, and I sat in a beautiful concert hall between Lizzie and Erin and let my spirit fill itself up—no, gorge itself—on Sufjan’s delicious melodies. And Saturday, I slept until 10, read for an hour in bed, went to the gym, took a nice shower, talked to Molly for two beautiful hours, and then prepared myself for Halloween festivities and dwarfiness. Then I danced all night with Lizzie (AKA “Easy Mac”… she woke up with bruises on her arms from dancing in a box) and spent the night in Portland. I woke up in time to go to St. Andrew’s with Lizzie, which is my favorite parish to visit when I’m in the area (it’s a hike from Gresham and pretty tough to make it for the 9:30 service unless I’m already positioned a bit more conveniently). There were so many families and cute kids at Mass, and the community is so warm and hospitable. Plus, St. Andrew’s is really close to Alberta St., so Lizzie and I treated ourselves to tea from our favorite place, Townshend, and then had gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches—mine had brie and red peppers, hers had artichoke and mushrooms—which we ate in a gutted out school bus. And then I came home and watched the Vikings [lose] and went to dinner with my community at Crunchy and Margaret’s. Beauty beauty beauty, gratitude gratitude gratitude, joy joy joy. Ahhhhh.

We ran into some Hillsboro friends before the Sufjan show.

I told my Spiritual Director that my spiritual life seems to be sort of flat and in a bit of a tizzy because everything around me is so new. I miss the infrastructure of Marquette—the built-in opportunities for faith enrichment and the strong faith community there. She asked me to expand my understanding of what prayer encompasses. “Isn’t all of this feeling and festering also prayer?” she challenged me. Indeed. And she suggested that, to help myself realize it, I try to include a Morning Offering of some sort in my daily routine so that one of my first thoughts is an intentional moment of offering the joys, the gifts, the pain, and the suffering of this day to God, entrusting God with all of it. That is perhaps the exact suggestion I needed.

Happy Feast of All Saints & All Souls. And, in solidarity with the feast many of my clients and staff members are celebrating, Feliz Día de los Muertos! Today I remember especially my beautiful grandmothers Mardel and Pat, whom I miss each and every day. The Celts often recognized death as a “thin place,” and I think it’s true. I feel the presence of the Divine whenever I think about my grandmas, and I know that wherever they are is a particularly thin place. As one poet says, the door to the Divine is surely cracked in that space and the light is escaping into this realm a bit more than in other places. Today, with much hope, joy, and gratitude, and knowing that the Divine is within and without me at all times, I remember also this man, the brother of my client, who has passed through that vaporous curtain, from this world to the next.

I'll never get sick of this mountain. Look at it now!!

Much love to you all. Happy November.

Amanda

PS Speaking of thin places, thank you to Mom for another lovely package (cookies perfectly intact!) and to Jill for sending me several copies of the Marquette Tribune. I can see the face of Christ right through you…