Snow in the Tucson Mountains!

We were supposed to go on a rafting trip, but due to forecasts in the 50's with rain, the trip was cancelled. Instead, we ended up in a cabin on Mt. Lemmon, the matriarch of the Catalina range that borders Tucson to the North. The second day there....it snowed.

Snowsounds

The snow makes noise

did you know that?

How often is it quiet enough to hear the snow come down

calm enough to feel it lightly kissing your lips

as it falls, dances, blankets the world.

The trees wear it as only royalty can

white, the color of purity and innocence.

the captivation of the eye

notable not for its lack of color

but for its lack of hue.

to be in the presence of this, the ceremony

bestowing the crown onto nature, with each

leaf, needle, flower, or pedal wearing it differently

consider yourself lucky

Many don't have the opportunity to see it.

Many don't want to.

Many can't.

So if you can

if you are there as the snow plays a quiet beating

drum as it ordains all of nature as kings and queens

You are lucky.

Baptism

Snow separates humanity from nature

As the elements, as Mother Nature is blessing the

land with moisture, with beauty, man hides away.

The trees rise as they always do, but now their garments are

gilded, shining white to offset the stately greens.

The ground itself is no longer brown, dull, dead, but instead

white! Pure! Innocent! NEW!

Man hides from such baptism.

We deny our true place in the royal order, naught but a servant,

in favor of playing the king, the queen....the tyrant.

We have neither the patience nor the fortitude to wait for nature to crown us

as only She can.

Lessons in Vietnamese Hospitality

This is a bit after the fact, but I can't get over it.

Daniel and I were sent out to a water line the other day. On the way, Daniel told me how when he and Dan Wilhelm had been at this job before to assess what we needed to do, the homeowners had bought them lunch. I was stoked. It's one thing for a client to bring a glass of water, soda, coffee, or something like that, but I had yet to be fed on the job by a client.

Daniel and I showed up at the house and began working, mostly communicating with our client through his nephew, who came with his wife and daughter solely to help translate what we needed to do, or what they could help with. About 5 minutes after starting, Daniel and I were each given a 32 oz bottle of deliciously cold Evian water. "I have water!" I said, gesturing towards the truck. "Maybe later!" But they insisted, telling me that this water was cold, it was much better.

So we worked, digging, preparing our line, until half an hour later, 2 more bottles of water were produced. I looked at the first bottle they'd given me, barely half empty, and tried to tell them again, "I have water!" But once again, they stressed the need for a new, colder, bottle.

You get the idea. By lunchtime we each had 3 large cold bottles of water in our possession. I have never been so hydrated. It was so, so lovely. And then they brought us lunch. Sonic, no less. I've been trying to cut down on the meat that I eat (which is rare at my house anyway), but I knew that the gesture on their part was one that could not be turned down. So Daniel and I sat there and munched on our Sonic burgers, tater tots, and large Cokes. Our clients ate their own, making sure we were well supplied with straws, napkins...anything our hearts could ask for.

And the day continued, our clients continually wanting to help us, give us water, thank us for the work we were doing. At one point they brought out new bottles of water, and after seeing Daniel and I both grab for the one with a big chunk of ice in it, they started putting the water bottles in the freezer and bringing us half-frozen ones! They were in the way trying to help us move things, watching raptly as we soldered the final pieces into place. I have yet to interact so heavily with a client throughout the day in such a positive way.

And as we were gathering up our tools, preparing to leave, our client came out, this little old lady who spoke very little English, to hand us each an envelope, and to hand the both of us a bag. The bag was for the two of us, she said, and each of us had an envelope for ONLY ourselves.

After we were a half-mile away from their house, I couldn't take the suspense anymore, and opened up the bag for the two of us. 4 GIANT apples lay inside. I then opened up my envelope, and I looked at Daniel and said "No way." We had gotten paid! Quite handsomely, actually.

I think it is important to note that A)I'm a volunteer that doesn't make money very often, B)It's rare enough for any client to offer a single glass of water, not to mention 5 bottles and provide lunch, and C) I genuinely expected a handwritten thank-you note in the envelope, which I was excited for in itself!

Daniel and I had to talk to Scott to check on CHRPA's policy for being paid as a volunteer worker, but that didn't even matter. I was just in awe of the hospitality we were shown throughout the day: we were supposed to be the ones providing a service for them, but instead, it was them serving us.

How humbling it is to fancy yourself as a servant, only to be shown what unselfish servanthood looks like.

Oregon

Oregon

Green, green, green,
it calls to me
a bee to honey
the wealthy to money.
License plates constantly excited me
Look! Another one!
Wait. They're all Oregon plates.
The rain on my face
biking as fast as I could
feeling the cold darts
on my skin
Gave me life.
Sunlight and water,
a plant needs both to grow.

Alone in the Desert

2 weeks ago we went to the desert for a solitary retreat. Now I know that some people might be surprised if I were to say how excited I was, knowing my social tendencies, but I was stoked for this opportunity. For at least 2 or 3 years while I was making new years resolutions (it hasn't happened for a couple) I planned on taking a 2-3 day camping trip by myself. In my mind, this solitary retreat was a long time coming. However, what I found was that I didn't respond the way I thought I would. I was not happy. I was not relaxed. I was stressed out, mostly by creations of my own mind. I had no agenda, nothing to accomplish, nothing to fear, yet I struggled. It was really, really hard. I guess we always have room to push ourselves, room to learn something we didn't know....room to still grow.

So I left on a Friday morning and returned on Sunday morning, with the two days in between spent...worrying. I never entered a state of peace, of letting myself slow down to really just “be.” Whether or not my fears or worries were rational, they refused to leave.

This is a poem I wrote early on Thursday afternoon, during a two-hour “test” solitary time.

Fear

Don't go any further.

What if?....

And my mind filled in the blanks.

Snakes. Slips. Spiders.

Fears filled my heart.

And I almost stopped.

Gave in as courage gave out.

But I paused.

Took a breath.

Blocked out the fears that bound me.

Continued.

And as I climbed higher

into clearer air and clearer thoughts

I realized

My demons are not extraordinary

They are the doubts inside of me.

Now, all of that being said, having recognized that my fears were simply products of my own creation, you would have thought I could have overcome them alone in the desert. But I didn't. There was always something else to do. Some scenario to create. What should I do in the case of?...

Poem/Thoughts #2:

I'm restless already

I've read, I've written

I've read, I've written

I've walked.

I talked aloud without even thinking about it.

I was going to try not to do that.

What I haven't done yet is relax.

Don't nap, what if you sleep through dinner and can't sleep at night?

How can I set up camp to be as safe as possible?

Set ground cloth.

Pull out tent.

Reset ground cloth.

Set up tent.

Clothe.

Unclothe.

Clothe.

Walk to the highest point one way.

Walk to the high point the other way.

Smack at all the bees and flies cruising around.

I need to slow down and be silent.

Find some silence.

Be still and listen.

Even lacking a plan, I created one. I planned my days around meals because I didn't know what else to do. That was the one way to divide that hours and hours that lay between me and...freedom. Freedom from this self-imposed kingdom of worry.

Just as the sun was setting Friday night, I experienced, briefly, peace.

Peace

I feel so blessed that the bird lives above me.

I just felt my first moment of rest.

Watching him fly laps over me

80, 100 times, back and forth

small wings flapping furiously

deftly darting back and forth, back and forth

the wings stop for a just a moment as he banks to turn around

you have to be quick or you'd miss it

the last glimpses of light

couldn't be spent better.

Compassion

This is a poem I wrote after we had water troubles during Tucson's coldest temperatures on record! It's meant to be performed aloud...maybe I'll record my performance of it at CHRPA's annual meeting Friday night and include it!

Compassion

They say compassion is being able to put yourself in another's shoes.
But to be honest is that really news?
I'd like to think if we were each given the chance
we wouldn't choose to turn our backs on our neighbor
to refuse them a favor
to neglect to see things from their point of view

But when I didn't have water at my house...
something clicked.

Instead of a name on a sheet of green paper

I was the person in need of some help

(and even though I could do it myself)

my lease said I couldn't, I don't own the house

And when you're waiting around all day you wonder:

Why are they so late?

Where are they at?

What are they doing?

Don't they know that I should be the priority?

I should be the priority.

And suddenly the apathy with which

I sometimes acted ceased to be.

I know it's a frustration

how each client's situation

seems a forceful declaration

into my own inner pacification

Because the problems never end

and my days...they do.

Those leaking roofs

those faulty outlets

that plugged sewage line?

I'm really sorry. Those will have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe Monday.

But I'm starting to feel your pain

I won't claim it's the same, but I am trying.

They say compassion is being able to put yourself in someone else's shoes?

Maybe compassion is learning to sing along with someone else's blues.

Update:

Here's the video from CHRPA's annual meeting.

Connecting

I hear adults (ie...people older than me) talk about catastrophic events that occurred in their lifetimes, momentous occasions that forever burned into their memory the place they were, the people they were with. I've experienced that only rarely in my life (which I consider to be a blessing), but the last few days have given me another to grapple with. The shootings that occurred on Saturday, January 10th, did not just affect the people of Tucson, but as a current resident of the city, I am affected much more than I would have been in Oregon. How affected? I'm still finding out.

I found out about the shootings via a text message from one of my roommates as I was on my way out for a hike. The details came intermittently through the morning as we came in to and left service on the hike, giving us a decent idea of what had happened, although no one knew many details at that time. I got back that afternoon and spent most of the rest of the evening reading reports, recaps, and responses to the shootings.

While I felt an incredible sense of loss at the senseless deaths of innocent people, I had no personal connection. I've only been in Tucson 4 months. But as Saturday evening progressed into Sunday, my connectedness got closer. Jacob and Brandon run w/ the father of Gabe Zimmerman. A couple in Brandon's community are very close with the family of Ron Barber. And when I went to church Sunday morning at Southside Presbyterian, I met with many people directly in relationship w/ those involved in the shooting. Even though just Saturday night I felt insulated and unable to connect with the tragedy in my community, I was quickly reminded how interconnected we all are.

And Sunday mornings children's time at church was the gut check for me. And really, should be for all of us. For when the pastor asked for the prayers of the children, the children spoke for little Christina Green, age 9, who was killed. And they prayed for Congresswoman Giffords. And they prayed for the families of all those who had been shot. And then one little girl said "We should pray for the man with the gun, because he was lonely and didn't have any friends."

The church was silent. So many adults who preach peace hadn't been feeling very peaceful in their hearts. I was one of them. But maybe when Jesus said we must be like children to enter the kingdom of heaven this is what he was talking about. Instead of drawing a line between us and someone who had committed a heinous atrocity, instead of trying to call attention to how different he is from all of us, the little girl identified with the part of him that is real and human. And I think that's what Jesus would do too.

Tonight I was part of a bike ride/vigil that went down to the University Medical Center where Congresswoman Giffords is being cared for. The hundred or so bikers I was with slowly made our way down to the vigil, and found at least 200 people already there, gathered in a grassy knoll covered in candles, notes, signs, balloons, and flowers. As I stood there with my candle, I looked at the faces around me. Even when we don't feel it, we are connected. Every person there probably had their own reasons for coming, but they were there...and so was I. Whether I even know it or realize it...I'm a part of things down here in Tucson now.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers in this difficult time. We may be in the darkness of the night...but I have hope and faith that daylight is coming, and the dawn will break through.

Keep dreaming.

Reflections on a Holiday at Home

Or perhaps my title is misleading--perhaps, instead, this post should be entitled "Searching for Home" or "Finding Home?" or "What does it mean to be homeless?"

Going home to Baker City for Christmas was absolutely wonderful. I have never, ever, even in my time at Linfield, or last fall with Jed, been so desperately happy to drive down Campbell street and turn left on Grove to go home. Perhaps it's some growing pains being away from home--really away from home, on my own adventure, in my own place. Perhaps I'm still adapting to that. I don't know. I just know that going home...which, as much as I like Baker, I'm pretty sure is only part of the solution. I'm pretty sure my home is wherever my parents and brother are present.

Now that might sound like a corny, or maybe even a bit childish, thing for a 23 year old living 4 states away from his parents to say. But they've been talking about retiring, and it's made me think a lot about how my "breaks," my Christmases and whenever else I get off from work for the rest of my life, look if my parents aren't in Baker. I can relax where my parents are. I am taken care of. And I realize at some point I won't be going where my parents are for the major holidays, but for me....well...that's what the holidays are for. Christmas day itself this year was not so great a distinction for me as Christmas Eve, when I got home and saw my family.

Further adding to my sense of fulfillment and completion while home was the presence of my girlfriend Kady, who came to Baker on the 26th and stayed until I left. One more precious piece of my world was present. Suddenly, instead of feeling spread thin between Tucson, Baker City, and McMinnville, I felt very whole and happy with so many people I love around me in Baker City.

I was also able to speak at church the Sunday I was home, which was incredible to touch base w/ the people that have been doing so much to support me while I've been in Tucson. I always feel so loved and joyful when I'm a part of that community. My energy grows. I feel empowered. I feel special. It's an unbelievable feeling to feel as special as I do among the members of that congregation.

Being home is very little about a place. Being home is very, very much about the people. People make a home. I'm so thankful that while my physical location seems to be in a constant state of variation and change, I have people I can call home.

Keep dreaming!