Altitude and Introspection

Pikes Peak is the most well-known mountain in Colorado, but that's not because it's the tallest. (In fact, there are 50-odd mountains in the state that break 14,000 feet, and Pikes Peak is ranked only 31st in height.) Pikes Peak is famous because it is positioned on the front range, easily visible from much of Colorado Springs and the surrounding area. Most of the other fourteeners (as they are commonly called) are nestled deep within the Rockies, and therefore less accessible and less visible to the public eye.

Two Saturdays ago, Daniel and I and our four housemates climbed this famous mountain. Although the Service Adventure unit does the hike every year, this particular trip marked a new record for the Springs SA unit: This was the first time that every member of the household made it all the way up and back down. (There is a road that goes all the way up, so it is actually possible to have someone meet you at the top in a car and snag a ride down.)

Because of the danger of thunderstorms at high elevation, hiking groups generally try to make it to the summit by noon in case an afternoon storm blows in. This meant crawling out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to drive to the trailhead near Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp.

Before recapping the actual day, there's something to know about me: I'm not one to easily admit physical weakness. If I'm with a group on a hike or a bike ride, and the pace is faster than I would have chosen, I usually just push myself harder to keep up rather than asking to slow down or take a break. I hate being underestimated or thought of as weak.
(In contrast, though, emotional vulnerability is easy for me. I have no problems crying in front of people or baring my feelings; I find that to be totally worthwhile and believe it to be a sign of strength rather than of weakness.) But physical vulnerability is different. And I avoid it whenever possible.

I went into this experience expecting it to be a challenge, but a good one. I love to be active and spend a lot of time exercising, especially biking and hiking and occasionally running. I've taken lots of pride in my passion for good health, strengthening my body through eating carefully and challenging myself in workouts. I've even done a bunch of hikes since we moved to CO, which should have helped me adjust to working out at high elevations. So although I wasn't under any illusions that Pikes Peak would be easy, I thought I was pretty well prepared.

We hit the trail at 6 a.m. before the sun rose. I'm not sure of the exact temperature, but it felt like below freezing. We were ready with lots of layers, though, and we were excited. The first stretch of the hike took us up through forested terrain, as the sky was lightening. After a couple of hours in the woods, we ascended past the treeline, or timberline, meaning the point at which trees cease to grow. From about 12,500' to the 14,110' of Pikes Peak's summit, there is too little oxygen in the air for trees to survive.

In this next leg of the hike (my favorite part of the entire day), we were climbing steeply up the mountainside to get to a ridge at the top (nowhere near the actual top of Pikes Peak, but an intermediate top), and the sun was starting to break through for real. In front of me the ground was still darkened, in shadow, but the top of the ridge was starting to glow. Behind me the mountain fell away into layers upon layers of other mountains, hills, trees, and eventually the city. The first sunbeams touched the very heart of the valley and set everything aglow, and the air sparkled with the energy of dawn. And instead of the forest landscape I usually hike through, we were now in a terrain called alpine tundra.

Alpine tundra was not something I had ever experienced firsthand before, and it was memorable. Instead of trees, the terrain sported small rocks, tiny scraggly shrubs, and dry, crunchy grasses. But not the kind of grass you'd find in a yard. The colors ranged across every possible earth tone I could think of: the browns and light greens and tans of grasses melded with the wintry blues and deep greens of the frosty blades of grass, all so seamless and perfectly blended that to look across the field was to be in awe. It was the subtle, introverted cousin of a wildflower prairie, but every bit as arresting. It was a rainbow, on the ground.

It looked like this, except way more breathtaking.

Meanwhile, as I was taking in the staggering beauty of this ascent, the reality of what we were attempting was sinking in. The trail was extremely steep and I knew we had several hours to go before reaching the summit. I distinctly remember thinking, This may end up being the hardest thing I've ever done.

Around this time I realized something else: My previously held illusion of my own strength and readiness was falling apart. I wasn't one of the better prepared members of the group - I was one of the slowest. While I wasn't the very last one, I was still lagging behind the majority of the group.... and I hated it. Because where I normally would have pushed myself harder to keep up, to avoid looking slow, I had to accept my pace - I was already pushing as hard as I could. Unless I figured out some way to release a bunch of adrenaline into my system, this was as fast as I could go. I felt like my body had betrayed me. It had lulled me into thinking I was ready, that I was strong, only to become weak when I most needed it to be strong. And I had to let 7 other people see it happen.

Humbling, to say the very least.

Because I was faster than the slowest person but considerably slower than everyone else, I was left with my own thoughts for hours. And so I thought for hours about why this was happening to me; why my perception of myself and the reality were at odds. I came up with theories to explain it, none of them reasonable. Maybe it's just my slighter build, with less natural strength than some people, that's holding me back? (But there were two other women on my hike with basically my same body type.) Women reach their physical fitness peak at age 16, I reasoned, so maybe at 23, I'm already too old? (I know plenty of women much older than me who can do this.) Maybe I've deluded myself into thinking I'm in shape, when in reality I'm a lazy couch potato? (My regular 8-10 mile bike rides through the city would indicate otherwise.)

My casual ideas about hiking many more fourteeners over the next couple of years were cracking under a razor-sharp reality check.

This circular thought pattern occupied my mind for much of the day, but I also had to focus a decent amount of mental energy on actually shlepping my pathetic excuse for legs up the mountain. After we crossed the first ridge, the trail more or less alternated between semi-flat and super steep sections. It helped a little bit that we (except for our two leaders) didn't know what was coming or how difficult it would be. Several of us agreed later that if we'd known the extent of the difficulty at the start of the day, it would have been even that much harder to finish.

Hours later (around 10:30 or 11:00) we reached the final stint: the boulder field. At this point some of my housemates were feeling the affects of the altitude, with headaches and nausea, but everyone soldiered on with admirable determination. We were seeing a lot of other hikers, some ascending with us, others crossing paths as they headed back down, and it was a pretty encouraging atmosphere. Luckily I wasn't really feeling any altitude symptoms other than the fact that my heart rate had been super high for the entire day, and my legs had turned into jelly a few hours previous. Climbing the boulder field at full strength could have been pretty fun, but at that moment it felt more like the rocks were mocking me mercilessly. Finally, at about 11:45 a.m. (almost 6 hours after beginning the hike) we made it to the summit.

I mentioned earlier that Pikes Peak is pretty famous. It's also pretty touristy. The summit of Pikes Peak sports a gift shop and restaurant with indoor plumbing, as well as crowds of people who come up on the cog railway. So we found a sunny spot outdoors to eat lunch, refilled our water bottles inside, took a picture next to the Pikes Peak Summit sign, and tried not to be too disdainful toward the tourists who had taken the cog train up.

The descent should have been a lot easier than the ascent, but because I was already so exhausted, it still felt like a major challenge. My heart rate hadn't lowered much since before 6 a.m. -- thanks to the high elevation at the summit, my heart was still working hard even when we were resting. My legs were wobbly, and my ability to balance well (already pitiful to begin with) had left me hours before. I hate going downhill even under the best of circumstances because I have a terrible sense of balance, and this was worse than any downhill hike I'd ever done. It probably goes without saying that I was by far the slowest one on this portion of the hike, and my mind was still berating my body for its failures. Frustration and disappointment are heavy things to carry.

3 hours later, we were getting close to the end, and the phrase "everything hurts" had never felt more accurate. My feet and knees were killing me from the stress of steep downhills; my head and chest hurt from the altitude and exertion; my shoulders and hips were tight from the weight of my hiking pack. And that's not even getting started on the muscle situation.

We got back to the parking lot at about 4:30, ten and a half hours after we'd begun, a lot worse for the wear. I'll spare you the rest of the details, except to say that I have never in my life felt the way I felt over the next hour or two. (That weekend was also the only time I've regretted living in the basement of our house - stairs can be brutal.)

It was a difficult day for me on every level. A lot of things I believed about myself were thrown into question. But I generally believe that no day in which I learn something new about myself is a day wasted. I don't know how these new thoughts will change me or my future hiking endeavors, but I do know that I should feel glad to have accomplished something that many people would never attempt.

For many reasons, I won't forget this day. I certainly won't forget the way I hated myself for being weak. But I also won't forget the triumph of all four of our girls for not only finishing, but keeping up positive attitudes and laughter the whole day. And I know I won't forget the indescribable, rough, craggy, stark beauty that is the Rocky Mountains. Even in the most awful moments, that was still there.

My pain is so small to these mountains that have been here for generations upon generations. While I agonize over the minute problems in my speck of a life, they contemplate the millenia. 

In a way, it's comforting.

Feeding the heart

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.  -Marcus Tullius Cicero

The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just the body, but the soul.  -Alfred Austin

I've been interning with Pikes Peak Urban Gardens for about a month now, and I've already learned a ton. It's super laid back - I basically make my own schedule - and though it can be hard work, it's so worth it. Most days we're working on a variety of maintenance tasks, including pruning, weeding, harvesting, and composting. These days we're also working on putting some of the garden beds to sleep for the winter. 

Everyone I work with is super knowledgeable about plant cultivation, soil health, pest management, and every kind of vegetable you can think of, plus awesome stuff like beekeeping and vermicomposting. Every day I learn something. I've also started doing a bit of outreach and education in the community (with the goal of doing a lot more) to raise awareness about the organization and about growing your own food. It's the perfect work for me to be doing. Creating sustainable food systems is one of my biggest passions in life, and I also LOVE to work outside and spend time in nature. Plus, gardening is actually proven to make you happier and healthier (bacteria in soil triggers a release of seratonin in the brain, and the act of harvesting releases dopamine).

Technically I don't get paid, but on weeks like this, I would argue that I totally do. Here's a picture of what I brought home on Tuesday, when we harvested piles of veggies and divvied up the results. Carrots, pattypan squash, Boothby cucumbers, and three types of beans.

Not pictured: the half pound of cherry tomatoes I scarfed on the way home.

Today was a particularly spectacular day at PPUG's Harlan Wolfe Ranch, our demonstration farm. Sunny blue skies, abundant produce, and happy people. Thursdays are Pick and Pay days: People visit the garden, pick out whatever they want from what we have available, and we help them harvest their chosen produce. It's as fresh and local as it gets, and everything's organic. It's also so much fun just to meet people and talk to them about the gardens. Often times they end up trying something new, or at least learning about a vegetable or herb they had never heard of before. Sorrel, lovage, magda squash, mint julep tomatoes, lunchbox peppers...there's a whole new world to be discovered. 

Anyway, at the end of the Pick and Pay morning, there was still a lot left...so of course I loaded up my own bag with peppers, tomatoes, basil, mint, and a butternut squash to take home. (Does anyone else have a spiritual experience when you roast the first butternut squash of the fall? So good.)

I have to confess, I don't really like fresh tomatoes most of the year. But when I get them straight off the vine, I love them. It's like it's not even the same vegetable.

I always feel good about working for PPUG, but days like today (when I help people find and take home nutritious, exciting produce, and bring home some of my own) are especially gratifying.

If you haven't been to your local farmers' market lately, what are you waiting for?? This is one of the most exciting times of the growing season. Go now. You won't regret it.

[Read more about PPUG's awesome work here: http://www.ppugardens.org/home.html]

Volunteer work spotlights

I've mentioned before that our four Service Adventure participants are full-time volunteers with local nonprofits, but I haven't delved much into the details of this work. But now I will! These groups are so awesome I can't help but brag on them a bit. My thoughts are only a small piece of the whole picture, so I'm including links to the organizations' websites for more details!

Seeds Community Cafe: Seeds is a pretty atypical restaurant. Not only do they cook with tons of local and organic ingredients (and are super vegetarian friendly), but also their main mission is to solve hunger by offering a meal to anyone regardless of what they can afford. All meals are paid for on a donation basis (suggested donation is $15/person), and many patrons pay more in order to feed someone in need. Anyone who cannot pay is invited to volunteer an hour of work in exchange for a free lunch. Though messy in the day-to-day details, it's a beautiful model that I hope to see spreading.

Because Seeds relies on food donations from various local farms and businesses, their menu changes daily. What doesn't change is the fun, vibrant, colorful atmosphere (for you Harrisonburg people, it feels a bit like The Little Grill, but less eclectic in decor). Seeds is only two years old, and of the four placements, this is the only one that has not had a Service Adventure volunteer before. Anali is the first, but I hope she won't be the last!

Interfaith Hospitality Network (Family Promise): IHN is the local name; Family Promise is the national organization. I don't know how our local group compares to others around the country, but this nonprofit is doing great work. IHN works with homeless families, though I hesitate to even use the phrase "homeless families" because of one of the many great things about this organization: They de-emphasize the labeling of "homeless people" and emphasize that these people are "in a homeless situation." IHN takes on up to four families at a time (and they are fairly selective in this process, taking into account factors from criminal background to personality, generally evaluating their likelihood to succeed -- this is one of Sarah's responsibilities). When they take on a family, their goal is to have that family progress on from the program within 90 days. During those 90 days, IHN staff work with the family on job searching, interview prep, budgeting, and many other life skills.

For night shelter, IHN partners with local churches who take turns hosting the four families for a week at a time. So each night, the families proceed to the designated church, where they are provided with dinner, a place to sleep, and breakfast the next morning. During the day, some of the families choose to hang out at a day center where they can eat lunch, read, use computers, etc.

Overall, one of the greatest strengths of this program (from my limited perspective) is its endeavor to humanize those who struggle with homelessness. Many of us, myself included, benefit from the reminder that were it not for our good fortune and strong network of community/family/church, we ourselves could be one major incident away from homelessness.

Westside Community Preschool: This preschool is one of many different programs going on at Westside Community Center. The center does a lot of good things (all kinds of classes, a food pantry, etc.), but their funding is limited, so I'm happy we can provide them with a full-time volunteer. (Anna really wanted to work with kids, and Westside has taken Service Adventure volunteers in the past. Those factors, combined with its close proximity to our house, made it a great choice.) The preschool is affiliated with Diakonia Preschools and focuses especially on curiosity and creative play. The staff seem to be really passionate about children, their health, and encouraging them in their development during an incredibly formative time of life. This year, they are offering a childcare program for the first time, which (unlike the preschool program) extends throughout the afternoon.

Our House - Bright Futures: Our House is a day center for adults with disabilities. The program is designed to accommodate young adults with developmental disabilities, and from what I can tell, they basically just hang out and have a great time. Franzi always comes home and tells us what she did that day and usually it's different than what she did in days previous. Common activities are various games, arts & crafts (recently homemade play-dough), walks on the nearby trails, etc. When Daniel and I have visited Our House, it's always had a super positive vibe, with people generally seeming happy to be there and excited to meet new friends. As far as I can tell, the students are greatly valued as people regardless of their handicaps, and it's so uplifting to find a care center that feels joyous instead of depressing.

I'm so proud of the important work our four housemates are doing at these nonprofits. I hope to keep you updated throughout the year with details about the way they are impacting our community!

Week 4 of COS Service Adventure

At the end of another week (a busy one!), I'm thinking back over the best parts of the week. Here are a few highlights:

Bike Jam! I spent a day representing Pikes Peak Urban Gardens at UCCS (University of Colorado - Colorado Springs) at an event called Bike Jam. There was sunshine, food, music, prizes, lots of bikes, lots of great people, and basically just a super fun time.

My main goal was to tell people about PPUG and get them involved, but the fun part was helping people plant their own herb seeds to take home.

And of course the spectacular view of the Rockies directly behind where I was sitting.

Last weekend the 6 of us hiked at Section 16. I can't get over how accessible the mountains are. We drove maybe 20 minutes to get here? And spent three hours hiking. (We're getting ourselves ready to hike Pikes Peak in just one week!!)

 On Wednesday we had the fun and eye-opening experience of helping serve dinner at Beth-El (our church) for our week of hosting Interfaith Hospitality Network. IHN is a nonprofit serving families struggling with homelessness. IHN sort of "adopts" up to 4 families at a time, providing them a place to hang out during the day, helping them with job searching, transportation, budgeting, and many other applicable life skills, with the goal of getting them back on their feet within 90 days. In addition, IHN partners with local churches to host these families at night. Each church hosts for a week at a time, which includes setting up beds, as well as serving them breakfast and dinner. This week was our turn.

After serving and eating dinner, we spent an hour or so doing dishes - as well as taking advantage of the chance to hang out with the adorable kids.

I continue to feel thankful for our four wonderful housemates and the gifts they bring to this program. We are loving the city and all it has to offer, and finding many ways to get to know each other better and learn more about the world. As the end of our first month together approaches, I'm looking forward to the many more to come!

Philosophical musings on a peach

I just ate a peach.

It was arguably the best peach I've ever had.

Certainly the best peach I've eaten in recent memory.

And while I was eating it, while it was rooting me to the floor with its incomprehensible deliciousness, I felt a kind of desperation. I felt trapped in the futile desire to capture, to save its perfection. I wanted to encase this peach, in all its glorious, juicy, complex flavor, in a permanent bubble so that I could enjoy it forever. When the dreary hopelessness of January stretches before me, I want to be able resurrect that peach.

But, of course, I can't. I was resigned to the ephemeral Now. The only thing to do was to savor this fleeting but sublime moment, knowing that to render it eternally present would be to condemn it to mundanity.

And that - that fleeting perfection of the moment - is the best way I know of to define Beauty.

For the love of soil and plants

Today marks one month since we arrived in the Springs. It's feeling more and more like home, and today, I finally checked off one of the projects I've been planning to do for months: a backyard compost bin!

Getting the supplies this morning was probably the first time I've ever been excited to go to Lowe's. This was basically the easiest possible setup (other than making an unenclosed compost heap), was super quick to make, and cost less than $30. If you're thinking about making your own compost area, these websites have some great information.

The other new addition to our backyard: a juniper bonsai.

I've been wanting a bonsai for years, and for my birthday, Daniel found a website to order one. Someday I'd still like to grow my own from cuttings, but this seems like an easy way for beginners to practice the art of pruning and shaping.

Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree. (Martin Luther)

Housemates!

Our four housemates (Service Adventure participants) arrived on August 6th and 7th, so they've been here for almost two weeks. We spent almost 10 days leading them in orientation: getting to know the city and each other, envisioning how the year might unfold, and trying to help them figure out how to be away from home. We've had a lot of fun adventures, too.

Our first hike at Cheyenne Canyon

Garden of the Gods one morning

Sunday the 9th (the first Sunday with all six of us here) was Service Sunday at our new church, Beth-El Mennonite, so we spent the morning on a work project in a fellow attender's yard.

Bike tour of the city!

It's hard to describe everything that we've done over the past two weeks, and how it's all felt. I do have to say how impressed I've been with these lovely girls, especially their adaptability and good attitudes. These traits have cropped up again and again as we've gone hiking and biking (relatively new for some), hauled rocks and weeds out of the dirt (nobody's favorite job), and tried foods from quinoa salad to groundnut stew (none of which were weird to me, but I already know that my eating habits are far from mainstream). No matter the situation, these four dove in wholeheartedly and without complaint. I'm feeling thankful for the positive tone this has set for the year, and looking forward to our many adventures to come!

Meet the Springs

We've been living in Colorado Springs for two weeks, and I'm learning more and more about the area every day. Though I still have much to learn, here are a few important points I think people should know about our beautiful new home!

1. It's bigger than you might think. Colorado Springs has a population of about 440,000, so even though it sometimes gets overshadowed by Denver (population 650,000), it's still a big city. Before we moved, lots of Virginians I talked to were surprised to learn this.
2. It's closer to the sun. The Springs sits at an elevation of just over 6,000 feet. (Harrisonburg is 1,325 ft.) This means the air is thinner with less oxygen, exercise is more challenging, and sun exposure is more extreme. 
3. Relatedly, the weather is great! With over 300 days of sunshine per year, this part of Colorado boasts clear skies and bright sunshine. In the summer, we get cool mornings and cold nights. In the winter, temperatures are often mild enough for short sleeves during the middle of the day. (Or so I've heard.) And the low humidity makes for bearable heat and powdery snow.
4. The city is home to a LOT of present and former military. Not only does the Springs house the U.S. Air Force Academy, Schriever Air Force Base, Peterson Air Force Base, and Fort Carson Army Base, but a lot of veterans also move here with their families after retirement. So far this hasn't really impacted us (other than noticing that military discounts are everywhere), but I'm interested to see what this feels like.
5. Though the Rocky Mountains are starkly visible from almost any part of the city, Colorado Springs isn't actually IN the Rockies. It's on the Front Range. This means that the city is nestled up against the edge of the mountain range, making hiking super accessible but keeping temperatures mild. (Incidentally, it also makes navigating easier for those with no sense of direction, like me. If the mountains are on the left, you're facing north.)

Right now, our area is a pretty popular tourist destination. (Understandably so -- if you haven't been to visit, you really should!) I suppose that's a good thing, but I'm also looking forward to the off-season, when I can get a better sense for the personality of the locals and the city...

Leader Orientation

Last time I wrote we had just moved into the unit house in the Springs...and were about to begin our orientation with the other Service Adventure leaders and some of the staff of Mennonite Mission Network. From Wednesday night to Sunday afternoon, we spent our time learning about the Service Adventure program, exploring the area, discussing house setup and spiritual life, playing games, going over policies, and practicing healthy conflict and communication. Eating, making music, and laughing.

It's hard to know how to describe a week like this. Every day reminded me of the orientation weeks I spent at Highland with the summer staff: immersive, exciting, packed full of activity, and hilariously fun. In both cases, the people involved are often meeting for the first time, but they become instant friends; everyone is united in the common goal of preparing to serve in a new context together. It's the experience of preparing for a new job that is so much more than a job, because with these jobs, you can't leave at the end of the workday and forget about everything until the next morning. Your work IS your life, and your life feeds your work.

But a noticeable difference between Highland summer staff orientation and SA Leader orientation is this: At the end of the orientation week at camp, everyone lived and worked together for the following two months. We had bonded as coworkers and friends, prepared ourselves to serve according to the mission of Highland Retreat, and were ready to dive into the new adventure. Together.

By contrast, on Sunday our time together in a group of 8 leaders and 4 MMN staff officially concluded...and everyone left. Daniel and I, of course, stayed here in Colorado Springs, but the rest of our group dispersed to their homes in Kansas, Oklahoma, and Pennsylvania. By the end of August, all 5 Service Adventure units will be open, and the 8 leaders will be spread out over thousands of miles across the country: Oregon, New Mexico, Colorado, Pennsylvania, and Alaska. We ended our orientation feeling like we had all found new friends and kindred spirits, and that we're well-equipped to work and serve together....but we won't see each other again until our leaders retreat in January.

In the span of four days, this group of people went from being complete strangers to feeling like close friends. In some ways that feels silly, because how well can I really know someone after only four days? But ultimately I believe that time is a construct, one that doesn't fully capture or justify the human experience. So I do believe that these people are true friends, despite the lack of longevity so far. The next few months will present a challenge of balance in that we all want to invest deeply where we are, and yet the 8 of us are literally the only people in the entire world doing this job...so of course we should communicate enough to encourage and support one another. In a similar way, we will struggle to balance the immersive life in the unit while maintaining our important relationships with friends, family, and home communities. And last week's orientation sessions reminded me that self-care is an important part of the balance equation, too.

It won't be an easy path to pave, but I'm excited to be on this adventure. Although my heart ached to leave my beloved family and close friends and community in Harrisonburg, I am wholly glad to be here. This world is full of truly wonderful people, and I intend to know as many of them as possible.

Westward pilgrimage: Some highlights

After 3 days of travel, we arrived in Colorado Springs last night. It's a bit strange, moving into a house you've never seen before in a city you've never visited, knowing it's going to be your home for two years. I'm sure within a few days I'll start feeling more comfortable here, but right now it mostly feels like I'm on vacation in an unfamiliar place. 

It was good to feed my wanderlust on a 1,574-mile road trip. Our trip was fueled by music, trivia questions, snacks, conversation, reading, and TED Radio Hour podcasts, and that was more than enough to keep me happy. Also, west strikes me as by far the most romantic direction to be going -- maybe it's just a bit of lingering westward expansion mentality, but there was something about following all the westward-bound signs through seven states that felt extra adventurous.

Leaving Harrisonburg for the last time was the hardest part. I already miss having my family and closest friends just a few minutes away, but I still feel confident in being here.

The first day, we hauled ourselves and our tiny car packed full of belongings over the mountains of West Virginia and Kentucky. This was the longest travel day, taking us to Mount Vernon, Illinois. The second day we drove just a bit further to Saint Louis, Missouri, where I'd never been before. (I still don't feel like I've seen all that much of it, but we spent a fair bit of time walking around the downtown area.) After lunch and part of the afternoon, we headed for Topeka, Kansas for the second night. 

The third day, we drove across most of Kansas and into Colorado. 

                     

I expected driving across Kansas to be boring, but it actually might have been my favorite leg of the trip. Without the extra traffic from any major cities, we were free to enjoy the landscape: a huge expanse of sky swirled with clouds, vast farmlands stretching to both sides, gentle hills dotted with silos and wind turbines.

Entering Colorado was a glorious feeling. It didn't really look any different from Kansas, but after months of anticipation, it was good to finally be in our new state.

Just before we entered Colorado Springs, massive storm clouds took over the sky. When the torrential rains started, we eventually stopped to wait it out, which ended up being a good idea when the hail started. This is what we saw through our windshield while we were waiting.

It was a LOT of water.

Eventually we made it to the Springs, and to the Rockies. 

Next up: Settling into our new home, exploring our neighborhood and beyond, and meeting the other Service Adventure leaders at our orientation beginning tonight. 

This week: Firsts and lasts

I've been waiting to write until my thoughts settled into a pattern, but I decided to stop holding out for that to happen.

Last weekend was a blissful haven spent in the shelter of some of my best friends. At the same time, melancholy and grief were stitched throughout my experiences, knowing that this was the last time we would be together for probably a year or so. Still, there were enough moments to hold onto, to carry me forward in the weeks to come. Like my last group hug with A, B, and J Sunday morning, soaking up the togetherness and love and contentment.

On Sunday afternoon, singing hymns with some of our favorite church friends. Looking around our little circle and feeling so grateful for sound and voice and the company of these friends, almost bursting with the joy of song.
Then being given a jar of wildflowers. Singing a parting song. Crying. Taking an iPad selfie with everyone. Beauty.

Reminding myself that I'm in the midst of the hard work of leaving.

On Monday, we got to meet Paula and Bruce, two of our future friends at Beth-El Mennonite Church in the Springs. Feeling the budding excitement and a sense of right-ness, the more pleasant (but equally important) counterpart to the grief of leaving.

Also on Monday, I finally got a smart phone. The first thing I did was set the ring tones. Editing out all my techno-mishaps, the second thing I did was connect to my email, and the third was to text some people a photo (a feat my archaic flip phone couldn't handle). The fourth was to download NPR and brain training apps. I've been feeling very Ravenclaw this week.

My 23rd birthday on Wednesday. Devouring pancakes and an excellent book. Packing. Dinner and chocolate cake with my beloved family.

Last day of work on Thursday. Trying to muster up some sadness, but mostly just feeling thankful for such a supportive work environment and great coworkers. It's time to move on.

Also Thursday, dinner with Brent and Kirsten, the first Colorado Springs leaders. (I didn't realize how young that unit is -- it started in 2010-2011. So we'll only be the third set of leaders.) As someone who takes a long time to make friends, it's rare for me to feel an immediate sense of kinship twice in one week, but that's what happened this time. We left feeling re-energized, excited, and supported, just like we did after coffee on Monday.

This morning, saying goodbye to one of my best friends. Seeing her future and mine bursting with new joy and potential, and wishing we could do next year together, yet knowing that every year I've had with her has been a gift. Calling to mind, not for the first time this week, the wise words of Winnie the Pooh: "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

Counting down to our departure next Sunday. Next week will be full of extreme packing and even more goodbyes. But so far I've succeeded in remembering two things: that sadness is a natural and important part of living this good life, and that endings remind us of the blessings we've experienced. May it continue to be so.

Two paths diverged in a yellow wood...

...and we took the one that leads to Colorado!

Daniel and I have been tentatively planning on something like this since we got married, or even before. We wanted to spend a couple of years in Harrisonburg, long enough to transition to post-college life and for Daniel to finish seminary. Then, our sense was that we should go somewhere else for a while. To see a new part of the world, to stretch ourselves by going beyond our current social context, and basically just to have new experiences. We felt confident that spending some time in an unfamiliar place would be good for us, even as we felt confident that we will eventually move back to Harrisonburg.

In December of 2014, we applied to be leaders for the Service Adventure program with Mennonite Mission Network (website here), and in March, we accepted a position as house leaders in Colorado Springs. The term for leaders is two years, while the term for participants is 10 months, so we'll be there for two program cycles.

Our responsibilities involve living in the house, coordinating things like meals and worship nights, and basically mentoring these 18-year-olds as they adjust to life in a new place and work in full-time volunteer placements.

We'll have the option to work or volunteer part-time outside of our role as house leaders. (The leader role is one part-time position which the two of us are splitting.) Park View Federal Credit Union, Daniel's employer for the past two years, has made arrangements for Daniel to continue working remotely on a half-time basis. (Because Daniel does most of his work over the phone already, this is a reasonable option.) This is an obvious blessing, in part for the added stability of knowing one of us already has a job, and in large part because Daniel loves his job and will be happy to continue doing it.

I'm planning to take a break from teaching violin. I may take it up again in January, but I'd like to spend the fall season exploring some other interests. I would love to work in the nonprofit sector, especially with sustainable food systems. Specifically, I've had some conversation with Pike's Peak Urban Gardens, an organization that is doing lots of exciting things in the Colorado Springs community. I'm planning to intern with them and learn as much as possible about their work.

We're leaving Harrisonburg on July 19, and on July 22, we'll begin orientation in Colorado Springs with our fellow leaders and the director of Service Adventure. Our participants (at this point, three young women) will arrive August 7: one from North Carolina, one from Kansas, and one from Germany.

We intend to keep our family, friends, and Harrisonburg community updated as much as possible. As sad as it will be to say goodbye to Harrisonburg, I'm so excited to get to know Colorado Springs and our new friends there. In the meantime, please pray for us and for our future housemates!

Twilight sounds

Lately I've been on the lookout for new music to listen to. (New to me, I mean.) I've been remembering my tendency during high school to find a new song or artist, listen to it obsessively on repeat, and psychoanalyze it lyrically and melodically in search of greater meaning and symbolism.

I don't do that much anymore, and in a way, I miss it. So I've been wandering the corridors of Spotify, trying on new things, in part because I legitimately want to find new music I like and in part just to become more culturally literate.

Right now I like The Paper Kites.

But it's a simple fact of my life that whenever I search for a new band or album, I never have any expectation that I'll find one I love on the same plane as I love the Wailin' Jennys. There are lots of songs and artists I love, but they all exist on an inferior stratum beneath the glorious soul-enriching experience that is TWJ.

And that's okay.

Last night after dinner, in the dimming twilight of a summer evening that is my absolute favorite time, I went for a walk. I listened to Starlight and the rhythm was perfect for walking and the cool breeze blew toward me and I tipped my face up to the sky, clear at last after a rainy day, and the universe made sense.

"In the end, I wonder if the true movement of the world might not be a voice raised in song." (The Elegance of the Hedgehog, p.185)

So I'll keep listening to all kinds of music, I hope. But after all, it's still nice to know that I can always come back to this.

The home of my heart: Reflections on past, present, & future

I spent the past three days counseling at Highland Retreat, the place where a piece of my heart will always live, and let me tell you, I feel so blessed. I can say without a doubt that the absolute happiest times of my life have been the summers I've spent working at camp, and this short week was no exception.

Three days sounds so short when we look at it from the lens of typical American life. But three days at camp  s t r e t c h e s  o u t  so much more than you would imagine. It is a world unto itself. So at the close of my three days (a mere 72 hours) at my beloved Highland, I feel like I've experienced another life. I've lived another lifetime, not as a different person (because I feel most fully myself at camp -- or at least my best self), but in another context. (I could go on about how boring my everyday life seems now, but I won't.) Being there both stretches me dramatically and at the same time grounds me comfortably into my own skin. And the people I worked with, some of whom I met for the first time three nights ago, now feel like good friends.

These are the things that make living life not-at-camp so difficult. When you can be somewhere with incredible friendships, beautiful children, hilarious moments, profound encounters, living life at the top of your lungs -- why would you want to do anything else? When each day stretches out to include almost every emotion under the sun (but most of them good), making you feel more alive than you've ever felt before, why would you want to change anything? When you can sink into bed each night exhausted with the effort and thrill of living large, tired and glad right down to your very bones, who could settle for less?

These are the questions I've been asking myself since Tuesday night. And here is a related, but perhaps even more important, issue:

When I'm working at camp, I feel like I've found my calling, my most glorious passion in life. I feel like I'm doing what I was born to do. Who could ask for more than that, right? But I also feel -- now more than ever -- that it is so hard for me to make this work. When camp only runs 8 weeks of the year, but demands all your time and energy for those 8 weeks, how can I reconcile that life with my other responsibilities? I have to do something for the other 44 weeks of the year, and generally most of my other options want me to be committed year-round. Also, being married and working at summer camp isn't the easiest thing, especially when your spouse also has a full-time year-round job that he loves.

Which brings me to the question at hand. If working at camp is my utmost life's work, my most fulfilling and important experience, why does it feel so logistically impossible? In other words, why would God call me to do something that feels practically impossible to do?

So then, of course, I have to ask myself: Is it really impossible? Are we not to believe that with God all things are possible? Maybe I need to change the way I'm looking at the situation? For truly, if this is what I am meant to do, then I must find a way.


Thoughts and advice are welcome. Until next time, friends.

The Republic of Imagination

I'm reading a new book. Isn't it pretty?



I picked it up on a whim from the "New Books" display at the public library, and it falls under "a book you chose because of the cover" in my 2015 reading challenge -- though in truth it first caught my eye because of the spectacular title. (But the cover is pretty amazing too.)

The author has this to say about the title:

I think of it as Nabokov's "somehow, somewhere" or Alice's backyard, a world that runs parallel to the real one, whose occupants need no passport or documentation. The only requirements for entry are an open mind, a restless desire to know and an indefinable urge to escape the mundane.

That, in a sentence, is why I love to read.