A Day in Photos: The Service Adventure Unit Goes Skiing

On Saturday morning our household, plus two friends, left to go skiing for the day. It seemed like an important experience for us to have, as we live in a city that's obsessed with fitness and in a state that loves winter sports.

We soaked in the lovely scenery on the long drive to Monarch Mountain, about two and a half hours southwest of the Springs.

All ready to go.

A beautiful (and surprisingly warm) day to be outside. Not a bad view here either.

Of the six of us, Sarah and Anna were the only ones who had ever been skiing before.

Our token snowboarder.

All in all, it was a fun day, and we're now one step closer to being true Coloradans. Many thanks to Joe and Leah, our fearless adventure guides, for the opportunity and the encouragement!

Political Anxiety and the Pursuit of Hope

I don't consider myself to be an anxious person. I'm pretty good at staying optimistic and recognizing that most stressors are minor in the overall scheme of things.

But last week, a knot of stress curled up in my stomach one afternoon and made itself at home. There was no discernible reason for its appearance at that particular moment, and it took me a while to figure out what was causing it. I eventually determined that it was general anxiety over a certain political candidate whose name I am not even going to pervert this blog by mentioning. I am sure you know who I mean.

I was incredibly burdened by the fact that one person's originally laughable decision to run for president has turned into what sometimes seems to be an unstoppable force. I was enraged that while the intelligent American public -- liberal and conservative alike -- condemns the rhetoric of hate that spews form this person, he continues to garner support from what I can only call the underbelly of the American population: places where there exists a disproportionate number of people who believe in utterly horrifying ideals like white supremacy and politically inflicted religious violence. This situation disturbs me greatly on a daily basis. For whatever reason, it turned into a visceral bodily symptom on this particular day.

I tried my usual pick-me-ups: I ate some dark chocolate. I listened to my favorite podcast. I drank some peppermint tea. I took deep breaths. Nothing worked to dispel the knot in my gut.

Eventually, a few hours later, it did go away. But the fear of what caused it remains.

Today, on the day when thousands of people (including, for the first time, myself) will vote in primaries and caucuses, I'm encouraged by three things.

Firstly, the fact that so many people ARE voting. I've sensed a lot of interest in this year's primary elections, and I'm eager to see how the voter turnout numbers compare to prior years. Let's hope that desperation has spurred lots of new voters to show up and speak out.

Secondly, these verses.
I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.
-Psalm 27:13-14

And finally, the existence of beauty in the world.

May you find hope in one or all of these things today.

Listening with grace

On Sunday, I attended a relatively new Sunday School class at my church, called Rewilding the Way. It's essentially a discussion of Todd Wynward's new book Rewilding the Way, which I highly recommend. To begin the discussion hour, the facilitator read aloud a passage from the book.

One of the topics mentioned in the passage was climate change.

The grim future that [Roy] Scranton had witnessed in Iraq had come home -- not through enemy attack but through social collapse in the face of an extreme and unpredictable climate. (p.165)

The discussion facilitator suggested we go around the circle and respond with our thoughts about the passage, or about the book in general. Many of the responses touched on climate change, and the perspectives ranged across the spectrum -- from "The facts are clear, and the situation is dire" to "I know I should do something, but how much can one person do?" to "The experts disagree on this subject so I don't think it's a big deal."

If you know me at all, you know how I feel about this. As my blood began to boil at certain comments, the urge to spout factual evidence at the people who were so blatantly wrong grew and grew.

A quick side note:
I have often cited with pride Beth-El Mennonite's theological diversity. As the only Mennonite church in a city of 440,000 people, it makes sense that our congregation would be more diverse than most. Our people are all across the board on social, religious, and political issues. And somehow, through the grace of God and the hard work of the pastor and worship leaders, it works.

Conversely, I spent most of my childhood in Harrisonburg, a small city of about 50,000 people that supported nearly thirty Mennonite churches. In that kind of setting, why bother having contentious conversations when you can easily surround yourself with people who agree with you?

Here we don't have that option.

While sitting in that classroom listening to my fellow Christ-followers talk about their beliefs, I realized something important: I can't claim to value theological diversity without practicing grace myself. In order to fully participate in being church with people who disagree with me, I have to be willing to do the messy work of having conversations about difficult things. I have to extend grace and love to my neighbors who disagree with me. I have to prioritize relationships over being right.

It was an important reminder that what I claim to value in my church is not something I am actually used to participating in.

Sitting there, together with twenty-odd other people who chose to be there that morning -- just to show up regardless of conflict or contentiousness or controversy, and to leave the room still full of love --
I was grateful.

Winter shenanigans

Last weekend we had the absolutely delightful experience of being at Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp for one of their snow camp weekends.

I am now convinced that snow camp is the best thing to ever happen to winter. It is SO MUCH FUN.

For starters, I'm sorry, but I'm obsessed with this frozen pond. I grew up in Virginia. We didn't have these.

Snow camp was everything that winter should be: Piles of snow everywhere. Sunshine and rosy cheeks. Sessions with a great speaker. Tubing down a giant hill. Singing. Sports that don't require you to be athletic. New and old friends.

 Human curling.

Semi-captive audience.

This is broomball. It's like a primitive version of hockey: an old volleyball, some duct-taped brooms, and no skates. Also tons of fun.

It didn't take me long to figure out why I liked broomball so much. After an unusually warm week, the top of the ice had thawed and re-frozen multiple times, creating an especially slippery surface. So, while playing broomball, staying on your feet was the number one challenge.

Which completely levels the playing field. I grew up with gym class as my arch-nemesis, and it took me years after finishing high school to realize that what I hated was not the physical exercise. Rather, what I hated was my own lack of hand-eye coordination. And even more so, the people who made me feel bad about it.

So when the naturally athletic people were handicapped by a slippery pond, I quickly realized my opportunity: I just had to learn how to keep my balance more effectively than they did, and then I might actually be good at a sport.

This weekend was short and sweet. Physically and mentally stimulating. It fit perfectly in my Lenten intention of spending more time outdoors. I can't wait to go back.

I'm telling you -- if you have any opportunity whatsoever to go to RMMC for a snowy weekend -- DO IT.

Garden of the Gods: Winter edition

As you've probably figured out by now, one of my favorite things about our house in Colorado Springs is that we live on the west side, thus extra close to the mountains. And one of the best outdoor features of the city is Garden of the Gods, a free public park with incredible views and a lot of great hiking trails, only a ten minute drive from our house.

It's always swarmed with tourists in the summer, but not so the rest of the year. Especially on the Saturday after a large snowstorm.

Despite the snow on the ground, the temperature was close to fifty degrees, so it was the perfect morning to explore.

I struck out with no particular destination in mind, and discovered this gorgeous trail.

And while traipsing through the park, seeing only one other person the entire time I was on this trail, I began to realize what was so wonderful about this experience. It was the feeling of being completely alone, held in juxtaposition with the sense of being one part of the collective.

It was an aloneness that had nothing to do with being lonely.

The aloneness was a blissful solitude, knowing that the only sounds I heard were the crunch of my boots on hard-packed snow, the chirping songs of birds in the nearby trees, and the occasional breath of wind.

And the powerful sense of the collective came from the knowledge that the snow had been tamped down by dozens of boots before mine, by other souls seeking that perfect solitude of nature.

Every inhale was energizing, every exhale a prayer of gratitude.

May you find reassurance today in solitude, while feeling a profound sense of being held up by our collective humanity.

A week in photos

Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm -- and windy -- afternoon in Garden of the Gods. Excuse the squinty faces.

Snow day that basically became snow week.

My view from the parking lot of the doctors' office. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.

Here's the setting of my first concert with Chamber Orchestra of the Springs.

And the rest of the gang as enthusiastic listeners!

Six Months of Life in the Centennial State

I have now been living in Colorado Springs for just over 6 months. To celebrate, I've compiled a list of things I now know, or observations I've made, about the Springs -- things I probably wouldn't have realized when we first moved here.

1. More transplants. When I lived in Virginia, almost everyone I knew was from the East or the Midwest. In Colorado, people come from all over. Lots of people grew up in Virginia or Pennsylvania, came to Colorado, and never went back. For example, there are five people on our Service Adventure Support Committee at church. One of the five is a Springs native. However, of the other four, there's one from California, one from Kansas, one from Maryland, and one from Pennsylvania. And Daniel's from New York and I'm from Virginia. Seven people, seven home states.

2. Distances seem shorter. Maybe it's the 75mph speed limit on the interstates. But I also think people are just used to traveling farther to get from one place to another, and it's not as big of a deal. Wide open spaces are the norm in the West, unlike living among the crowded cities of the East.

3. As far as cities go, the Springs is pretty spread out. It's not at all uncommon to travel up to 30 minutes just to get across the city. Going north or south is easy because the interstate runs straight through, but east and west can take a lot longer. We do have a decent number of bike paths and lanes, but the lack of public transportation infrastructure still leads to an unfortunate dependency on cars. Luckily, a lot of the places I regularly go (library, bank, grocery store, thrift store) are within two miles of our house.

4. The Broncos are everything. I'm sure I don't need to explain this one.

5. Fitness reigns. According to this map of most frequently Googled questions, everyone thinks of Colorado as a remarkably fit state. By some rankings, Colorado Springs clocks in at the second fittest city in the U.S. The Springs is best friends with the Rocky Mountains, so it naturally draws in a lot of sports and outdoors enthusiasts. People mountain bike on their lunch hour and run half marathons on their days off. Every time I go for a hike, I am inevitably passed by at least one person who is running the trail. And, perhaps as a result, Colorado is the state with the lowest obesity rate, at least as of 2014.

Living here, I'm a little embarrassed to admit I've never been skiing. (Though we have plans to go in a few weeks.) And before another six months passes, I want to check off another Colorado Springs rite of passage: hiking the Incline, a one-mile hiking trail that ascends 2,000 vertical feet.

6. There's a relationship with the natural world that's unlike anywhere else I've lived: a beautiful, sometimes whimsical, blending of urban industrial commerce with a passion for nature. Hiking boots are pretty much the standard footwear at my church on Sunday mornings. There's a sign in the parking lot of a Costco/Lowe's/huge shopping center that says TRAIL HEAD THIS WAY. (Where else can you find that??) And although we live quite close to downtown, we routinely see deer walking through our yard, thanks to a forested block nearby.

All in all, there's a lot to love about Colorado Springs. I'm excited to see what else I learn in the next six months!

Sunshine, ocean, palm trees, and the journey

Last week, from Thursday to Sunday, was the mid-year Service Adventure leaders' retreat. With people coming from Colorado, Kansas, Oregon, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, and Alaska, we convened in sunny San Diego.

We stayed here at this house

where there was a piano

but more importantly, there was a lemon tree

and an orange tree

and a jade tree

right in the backyard.

We ate a lot (A LOT) of delicious food.

We walked along docks

and beaches

and a sand castle created by an independent professional artist.

Some of us (Leah) drenched ourselves in Pacific Ocean waves. Others of us splashed in the shallows. Others just watched the sun set.

We visited Balboa park, home of a gigantic tree

contortionist-dancer-acrobats

more dancers

and lots of mind-blowing cacti.

When we weren't out exploring the city, though, we were having meetings and conversations about everything related to Service Adventure. Not only was it helpful to share stories and questions about how the year is going, but it was encouraging on a broader-strokes level. Being at leaders' retreat gave me new energy to return to work and new excitement about the transformative power of this program. I was energized by the stories of former program participants who have, sometimes years later, expressed gratitude for the ways they could now see that their lives had been changed for the better. I also, in hearing about past and present challenges and sometimes great pain in Service Adventure households, strangely found a thread of hope that emerged. I felt strongly the sense that, most of the time, it is worth it to confront the mental and emotional struggles that arise.

A poem came to mind: 

Diving Into the Wreck

by Adrienne Rich

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.

[...]

First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed
[...]

There's more, and it's worth the read, but these are the lines that, for me, connect strongly to the experience of living in intentional community. The air down here is different. It's blue and bluer and green and sometimes black, and you breathe differently. Sometimes, in living closely with others who see the best and the worst of you (and you of them), you come across the damage that was done earlier. Scars we all have. The imperfections of being human. But amidst it all, you find the treasures too. And that's where the beauty and redemption come in.

This, I think, is why so many people react negatively to the idea of living in community. We don't want other people to see our scars, and we're deeply afraid that the damage will overcome the treasures. But this weekend, I was viscerally reminded of my dearly held belief that this is the way to become the best person I can be. Intentional community is a mirror that reflects to me my worst patterns, and with enough practice and grace and prayer, I can use that to become a better version of myself.

This weekend, in a way, felt like a renewal of vows. I've committed again and again to diving into the wreck of messy relationships and flawed humans, and I will continue to re-commit to this my entire life. To extend grace time and again. To pursue deeper relationships when shallow ones feel easier. To be vulnerable. To try. To forgive. To show up in the difficult and raw and emotional moments and let God do the rest.

Unit life: Living simply, Part 2

You might remember an earlier reflection on my household's experience with Simplicity Challenges. We've continued drawing from our Simplicity Jar every week, and though there have been some repeats, we've also engaged with some new ways to pursue a less superficial, more wholehearted life as good stewards of our resources. Here are a few more of the challenges we've adopted over the past few months.

• One week, two screen-free nights. Exactly what it sounds like: We chose two nights to seek meaningful quality time away from phones, computers, and TV. I think we're all aware how insidious our technology can be, leaching much more of our time, attention, and dependency than we might intend. I've long been an advocate for screen-free Sabbaths and enjoy the practice of relational connection rather than technological connection.
• One month, no clothes dryer. This was super easy for me, since I usually hang all my wet laundry anyway. But some people are more fond of the convenience of a dryer, and this is a good reminder of how much energy clothes dryers really use. In fact, unless you have a new dryer, it's almost certain to be the most energy-sapping appliance in your home.

http://grist.org/news/your-clothes-dryer-is-a-huge-energy-waster/

• One week, no refined sugar. This may not initially sound like it fits the category of "simplicity," but in a society that is entrenched in unhealthy habits, saturated with excess sugar, and suffering the related health consequences, I assure you it fits. In fact, a recent NPR article entitled Keep Things Simple for a Healthy, Long Life sums up quite well why a healthy life is based on simple choices. 

I'm constantly trying to cut back on the sugar I eat, which is a continuous battle with my pronounced sweet tooth. For this week, the boundaries weren't set in stone, but we all gave up desserts and candy, while also generally attempting to choose meal options with very little added sugar. For me, this meant choosing things like eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, salads and grains for lunch, and fruits for snacks. I also tried to cut back on foods made with only white flour, since our bodies convert this instantly into sugar when we eat it. And it was hard! I know at least three or four of the six of us would rank this as week of the most difficult simplicity challenges we've undertaken.

http://visual.ly/what-sugar-really-doing-your-body

• One week, 10 clothing items. This is our challenge for the current week. It's a reminder that although the Service Adventure program provides us only with minimal allowances for living expenses and personal spending, we are truly fortunate to have more than enough in almost every way, including clothing. In fact, we could probably eliminate 75% of our clothes and still have plenty to wear. (And even if we didn't, Jesus reminds us in Matthew 7 not to worry about what we will wear.) I think this is an especially important concept to engage with as some of the Service Adventure participants work very closely with individuals and families living in poverty. 

After some initial wariness in choosing our 10 items for the week, I think most of us came up with an assortment we're happy with. Exceptions are outer garments (winter coats, etc.), undergarments, pajamas, and socks. My outfits for the week will be comprised of:

• Black jeans
• Two tank tops/workout shirts
• Three sweaters
• A hoodie
• Black boots
• Tennis shoes
• A scarf

Though there have been plenty of difficult moments, my sense is that all six of us have found this exercise in endeavoring to live simply to be worthwhile. I encourage you to examine your own life for opportunities to simplify and reflect. If you do, please share! I'd love to hear your stories.

Holiday festivities

Returning to Colorado at the end of December saw us catching up on all the missed holidays.

We exchanged gifts between the six of us. There was much excitement.

Their gift to the two of us was this:

One of the most thoughtful and memorable gifts I've ever been given.

Later, we celebrated Daniel's 28th birthday.

Incidentally, both of these belated celebrations took place on New Years Day -- three holidays rolled into one.

Since then, our delightful Service Adventure participants have returned to their full-time work schedules in good (though tired) spirits. Daniel's working half time from home like usual. I'm preparing for/adjusting to a few changes this month -- more about that later. Happy January to all!