things i don't like (in no particular order)

the need to designate june as "torture awareness month"

How are we so screwed up with greed and power that we can't even define what is torture to humans who are people like us?!  My housemates and I recently watched "Ghosts of Abu Ghraib.  Another friend of mine is worried about her Zimbabwean activist friends who are imprisoned, beaten, and treated inhumanely (maybe even tortured?) in their native country because they speak organize the people to stand up for their basic rights.  In my faith community there are several torture survivors and family members of torture survivors who are seeking political asylum.  Orlando had several years of solitary confinement and other horrible treatment in his native Philippines and now he started and organization named TASSC (Torture Abolition and Survivor Support Coalition, www.tassc.org).  Some church members volunteer to house and support torture survivors and their families while they are recovering and seeking political asylum.  Meanwhile, most of us, including our political leaders, seem to be so far removed from the whole thing that we can water down torture into a few choice words that make it seem ok.  The whole thing blows my mind.

rob and lilly aren't sleeping on our porch anymore

Rob and Lilly (Miss Lillian, as she sometimes calls herself) used to sleep on our porch pretty regularly because there are no one-night homeless shelters in DC that allow couples to stay together overnight.  It wouldn't be so bad except that our neighbors don't like it.  In the past we've kinda half-heartedly asked them to leave.  But they keep coming back and they really don't do any harm.  Our neighbor keeps pressuring us and I gave in and asked Rob and Lilly if we could help them find a better shelter or day program.  That was two weekends ago and they haven't been back since.  I feel so guilty.  The only reason I did that was because of the pressure I felt from the neighbor (who, by the way, has a pretty extravagant house and yard and patio and car).  I thought about Lilly and Rob that whole day and I hoped that they wouldn't listen to me like they hadn't in the past so that I could work on a better relationship with them.  Now they're probably sleeping somewhere else - somewhere probably less safe and still on the street - because they know about all the shelters and choose not to go to them.  So what's the point of me telling them to leave?  Now I have no way of contacting them.  Every morning I open the kitchen blinds as I make the coffee and hope that they're sleeping out back so that I can offer them a cup of joe and piece of toast.  They haven't come back yet.

dead squirrels

Especially when I find it on the front porch of my friend's house for whom I'm dogsitting and as I'm taking said squirrel-obsessed dog for a walk!  Gross.  And then the neighbor just watched me as I gingerly put the rigomortized squirrel in a plastic bag and threw it away.  What a great way to start a Saturday morning.

feeling guilty about almost everything i buy...

because our systems of trade are so extremely oppressive at almost every point of the commercial process that money is always the bottom line and people's quality of life is left out of the equation.  (*That's a simplistic statement, but I think a lot about the complexities behind it and hope to do a future blog on my consumer evolution.)

things i really like (in no particular order)

saturday brunch after throwing a party at our house

Good morning.  Blueberries were on sale on Friday for waffle-making on Saturday.  We're like a little family, except mom doesn't have to do all the work because we all pitch in.  There are just as many laughs in recounting the party last night was there were when it was happening.  It's a chill and fulfilling way to debrief.  Sometimes there's a slight let-down after the high of a fun night with friends, but brunch at home with my housemates is the best antidote.

challenging and refreshing worship

Last week at 8th Day faith community was particularly beautiful as we participated in a music peace liturgy written by one of the members.  My friend Sadie shared about her experience as a volunteer with a human rights NGO in Zimbabwe.  The message that woven through her story challenged me to inspect the callings God has entrusted to me and how willing I am to sacrifice personal comforts for those passions.  Every week I am inspired by the stories of people just like me who are intentionally working with the word of God in their lives and hearts that is tugging on them to move more and more closer to the heart of God and God's dream for the world.  I particularly love that a community this size (30-40 on a given Sunday) allows me to make connections with people who are shaping the church because no one is not a part of its shape.  It's hard to be a peripheral there, but at the same time I don't feel pressured to be something I'm not.  Everyone's presence and gifts are valuable no matter how large or small.

evening bike rides

There's nothing like the cooling, hazy light of the early evening, leafy-green tree-lined paths, and a few friends to make a bike ride a little prayer of joy.

musicians practicing in my house

I walked in the door from church this morning to find Clay and friends from his church practicing for their afternoon worship.  What a beautiful thing to arrive home to!  To be able to sit and bask in their creativity and passion for worship through music was such a gift to me today.

I'm a fan

This is one mysterious kid.

That’s what I thought when I first met D. (I won’t use his full name here.)

D had created a little buzz through the Sitar Arts Center staff office talk, presumably because of his precarious home-life, but I still don’t know the backstory and maybe it isn’t even important to our relationship right now. He’s tall with a short afro and often wears a white t-shirt that reads I’M BLACK in huge bold letters. He started greeting me with hugs soon after I introduced myself to him one day as he was coming in for guitar lesson. At first I thought it was going to be one of those awkward relationships where the high school boy has a crush on me because I’m the only female in his life who’s interested in him as a person. But somehow we moved past that after I wouldn’t let him hang out at my desk and I used my camp counselor skills to defer to side-hugs and less physical contact.

I never knew there were so many different ways that “alright” could answer the question “how are you?” Or sometimes it’s just a nod. Other staff members have described him as “a man of few words,” but I’ve never found it uneasy to have a conversation with him even if he doesn’t talk a lot. In Lyric and Songwriting class we started and ended each session with dives, two-minute free-writing exercises on a variety of topics. D rarely read his dive aloud, but one time he followed the prompt “I am from…” with “government cheese.” Thinking about it after class that evening still sent chills up my spine.

Over the past six months I’ve felt a growing maturity in him from how he deals with frustration with his dad to the development of the teen rock band at the Center. Oh, the band. It seems that they are always together practicing or talking about practicing or writing songs and lyrics, but hardly have anything to show for it considering the amount of time they put into it. And somehow, through some magic that is completely unexpected yet makes sense, D is the one that can hold them together and make it possible for them to get their act together and perform this week.

On stage, he wore black plastic sunglasses and his favorite t-shirt under an open short-sleeve plaid shirt. Being in the spotlight is something he’s good at but doesn’t seek purposely, at least it doesn’t seem that way. On Thursday I told him that he’s nominated for an award. He doesn’t know that I nominated him and that the award is for Most Improved because of all the growth I’ve seen in him this semester. Nonetheless he was genuinely surprised and proud and humbled all at the same time and in such a subtle way. My heart sang a little just to see his reaction. Last night after the performance, I thanked him for his leadership, maturity, and diligence in preparing the band and I can honestly say that it wasn’t an over-the-top, ego-boosting compliment.

I can honestly say that I’m rooting for this kid. I’m rooting for him so hard that he can overcome the obstacles society has put in his way. I want so badly for him to become something with all this potential. He’s at a good point, but also a precarious point. If I was reading about a fictional character I could look at this situation and see a turning point where either the potential could be used for good or for bad. I get wrapped up in fictional characters as I watch their lives unravel or unfold before me. This story is slower and I’m really wrapped up in the most mysterious yet subtly and profoundly overcoming kid I know.