This year was certainly not what I expected. It had its fair share of mess-ups, miracles and mundane moments to be sure. I missed a few trains and had some growing to do in my racial awareness journey; I met new people who showed me the face of God and felt the Spirit guide me in conversations; I learned new recipes and methods of cooking and even what in the world a daikon radish was ! I had the incredible opportunity to work with Living Waters Center of Hope for most of my time as a YAV in Boston. I served coffee, cut and cooked potatoes, and helped folks get the clothes and hygiene items they needed. I learned the power of presence and of showing up everyday to listen and acknowledge the struggles of folks who walked in the doors. While COVID-19 caused my time with Living Waters to come to an early end, I wouldn’t trade a minute of my time serving the Lowell unhoused and vulnerable community alongside the funniest, most loving and compassionate volunteers. Here’s how they’re adapting: socially distanced tables where folks can sit and enjoy the food served from the window. In addition to my time at Living Waters, I also worked at Eliot Presbyterian Church. Beginning work, I felt like there was a “place prepared” before I came to the congregation. My skills and passions were met, developed, and utilized to grow in faith and discern what I wanted to do post-YAV. While I was at Eliot Church, I helped out with the large congregational events like Thanksgiving and even helped lead the MLK Service Sunday where we packaged over 10,000 meals that went to the local food bank. I also had the most amazing opportunity to work with Eliot’s Confirmation students. I had never been so heartened and impressed by a group of young people than getting to witness the students’ growth throughout the year. I am so proud to have been able to watch them flourish in their faith. Here are the students showing off their completion time for an Escape Room at our Spring Retreat! From the lessons I’ve learned from Living Waters and Eliot Church, I have discerned my vocation and education goals. I will be beginning a Master’s in Nonprofit Management at Northeastern University and starting work at common cathedral in Boston, MA. To learn more about common cathedral, click this link to check them out! I am so blessed to have the support of friends and family (blood relations and church family!) on my side in this new adventure.
The way I came to common cathedral was nothing short of a miracle. After a few missed opportunities to participate in their programs, I was forwarded the job application with a couple of days left to apply. Reading about the nonprofit more closely, I felt my excitement grow. It was so in line with what I felt called to do. After applying and interviewing, several folks recommended to the nonprofit that I would be a great fit for the position. Soon after, I was offered the job! My sense of a “place prepared” that I started my YAV year with continues to my feeling of being where I’m supposed to be at common cathedral. I couldn’t be happier with my next chapter of life.
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I have been thinking about the topic of helpers and it is in our media a lot these days. I have struggled with what that meant for me at this time. When I began my year, I was placed with Eliot Presbyterian Church in Lowell and at Living Waters Center for Hope - a day canter for folks who are unhoused, in a shelter, or another vulnerable living situation. I had the opportunity to help people at Living Waters in intentional, one-on-one ways that seemed to impact the guests and certainly impacted me and my faith. I believe we are all reflections of God’s image and getting to see a diverse number of folks throughout my week was emotionally and spiritually stimulating. It was easy to feel helpful and see myself as a helper. But, then the pandemic reared up and suddenly, safe places of gathering like Living Waters and like church, were some of the most dangerous places to be. I have had the experience of feeling helpful and hands on with my work and then, suddenly, all of that being removed from my day-to-day. I am now working solely for the church as my work with Living Waters was effectively shut down. I have had some difficult days seeing the helper in myself. Luckily, I have been able to feel more helpful by being at the new Eliot Church Day Shelter. Starting in mid-May, Eliot opened a Day Shelter to reach out to the unhoused neighbors surrounding the church building and common across the street. I have seen the Day Shelter grow and flourish. Helpers came through the doors in some of the most unlikely of ways.I want to highlight a particular helper who I have seen be the one of the most generous, humble, and kind people I have met this year. For the purposes of his anonymity, I will refer to him as “Andy.” When the Day Shelter first opened, we saw very few folks come inside and had to contend with issues of cleanliness surrounding the church building. There were heaps of used clothing, bedding, human waste, needles, trash from food, and more. We were concerned with how the governing body of the church would react, not to mention how the city would feel if we had our doors open but our property not kept up. This is where another great helper, Tabitha, the coordinator of the Day Shelter and new-graduate from seminary came in. She has some of the most amazing gifts of relation to others and with her soft encouragement and firm belief that people are good, she reached out to our unhoused neighbors to help clean up. Andy, an older gentleman, took up the call and rallied with Tabitha to get others to help clean. Since then, Andy has come into the Day Shelter almost every day it has been open and helped us in its operations. This is so essential to our mission to engage our unhoused neighbors, get them to invest in the Day Shelter, and we have seen the positive outcomes of this almost immediately. We have now several guest-volunteers who are eager to be involved in helping those around. Andy, specifically, has helped in cleaning and mobilizing others to help clean. I have sat with Andy and we’ve discussed how God has worked in his life. We’ve talked about his addiction and how he desperately wants to be away from the temptation of alcohol that he encounters every day on the street. I’ve been witness to him praying for this church and how he feels called to help. Something he said touched my heart about why he sleeps near Eliot. He and others sleep on church property because they believe it brings them closer to God and that they will be kept safe in the shadow of the church building. There is no limit to how we can help others. I believe that the ways we can help the vulnerable folks in our community is as diverse as the people who decide to help. We are blessed with gifts from God. Anything from nimble fingers that can sew masks for people to compassionate writers sending notes to folks at home; gifts like being able to donate or tithe in this time because 10% isn’t as hard right now and gifts like feeling isolated or alone and still reaching out; gifts like recommending a good recipe or book to try and it’s gifts like engaging with the vulnerable in relationship. It’s doing what you love for the people we are called by God to love. So, look for the helpers. Look in your community, your lives, yourself. And find ways to be a helper. February began - well really January ended - with my contracting mononucleosis along with tonsillitis and a super-imposed bacterial infection on my larynx. It led to two weeks in hospital and unfortunately in isolation – from those I loved and those I worked with and, it felt like, from God. The first 8 days at Massachusetts General Hospital, I was in the White Ward floor 9, room 236B or as I had come to think of it: Hell. This sounds like an exaggeration to most reading this, I am sure, and I have done some reflection during this time of Lent and thinking on Jesus in the wilderness. I have come to think, now, of my time in that hellacious room as my own kind of Wilderness. It was as though I was being tortured and tormented by my illness and setting in which I was supposed to be recovering. To begin with, my throat and tonsils were so swollen I could not swallow anything but my own saliva. Anything but saliva would cause me to spit up in varying shades of green mucus. I could hardly speak with the pain in my throat and the revolving number of nurses, CNAs, and doctors coming in to ask me questions or update me on my lack of progress made it painful when I wanted to talk with my visitors. My super-imposed bacterial infection was sitting on my larynx and causing most of this pain, yet I was not started on antibiotics until a week into my stay having been told I would eventually get better. It was just a really bad case of mono, right? The undiagnosed infection was a significant contributing factor to the Wilderness I was experiencing. Another cause of my Wilderness and time of intense pain was the environment in room 236B. My neighbor, a tiny, eighty-year old woman, was constantly vocalizing her extreme discomfort, incontinence, and frustration with the nurses’ lack of attention made it extremely difficult to get any rest. I could not sleep during the day when she was awake and yelling or moaning in agony. I could not sleep at night because of the pain in my throat causing me to cough up mucus. During this first week, I was so anxious, stressed, and in my own world of agony I would cough up blood – due to the irritation to my throat, of course. I begged my nurses to move me. Take me out of the living Hell that was room 236B. I wasn’t getting any rest. I wasn’t getting any better. The height of this agony, this Wilderness, was one particularly aggravating coughing fit where I was coughing up more blood, my heart was racing and my chest was tight, I had no idea of the time or day, tears streaked my sallow cheeks, and my thoughts turned to what I could have done to deserve all this. My Wilderness was the physical agony, but also the distance I was feeling to those I loved. Because mono is contagious, I couldn’t be in close contact with anyone and because of the pain, even when I had visitors, I was too sleepy and incoherent from the medication to have meaningful conversations. In a word, I was consumed by hopelessness because I wasn’t getting any better and there was nothing I could do about it. So, what was left for me to do? In my Wilderness, I prayed. I prayed for wisdom to the many doctors that came to see me; I prayed for my roommate to shut up; I prayed for Rebekah and Mara and Sarah that our fracturing community would heal; I prayed for the demon within me to be expelled; I prayed for my kind-hearted nurses who sympathized with me as I cried; I prayed for Mom, Dad, Aaron, Aaron’s mom; I prayed for my roommate and her loud visitors; I prayed in thanksgiving for being able to be in a good hospital and under the care of competent doctors, nurses, and CNAs; I prayed for healing; I prayed for hope. One person I am so grateful for (though there are many) is a CNA, Disney. She was such a bright light in my time in 236B. She sat with me during one of my coughing fits and held my cold, pale hand in her own warm, plastic-gloved hand. Unprompted, she asked if she could pray with me and I nodded. I felt more at peace in those minutes than I had all week. The power of prayer through an angel such as this CAN was so needed, so uplifting, and so life-giving. It was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The next day, Aaron insisted I should be moved out of the hellacious room and the nurses complied. I was finally on the right track to getting better. In reflecting about this Wilderness, I must admit my hesitation to return to it in full. I didn’t want to remember the hard parts but have since grown to recognize them as the shadows that make the light parts brighter. They put into sharp relief the blessings I received in those two weeks and in my life. Love and kindness and selfless care were shown to me throughout. I wouldn’t be where I am now without all that from my mom who came in the last few days of my hospital stay to give some much needed TLC. Aaron, my boyfriend, was steadfastly at my side for as long as he could with a busy work schedule. Aaron’s mom, Lynn, cared for me while my own mom was in California. Rebekah, my fellow YAV, never missed a time to visit and update me on her day. And many, many others I hold in my heart with deep gratitude. My wilderness, my hopelessness, was a time of pain and yet it also called for deeper spiritual reflection. What did it mean to me that I experienced so much agony, but made it through with emotional scars that I know will eventually heal? How was my situation in early February similar and dissimilar to those affected by COVID-19 today? What can I do to be in solidarity with those who’re experiencing isolation in the hospital and those who are unable to work for weeks? What practices can I implement in this time of chaos and societal upheaval to advocate for the marginalized and the overlooked? What can we do to be a bright light in these dark times? The governmental food program aimed at providing funds for those with lower income pay for groceries, SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program), was a turbulent process for me and my housemates. Beginning the week after we arrived in Boston, I, Mara, and Rebekah began to fill out our SNAP application. Initially, we had some questions about whether to apply as a household; what utilities do we actually pay for; and how to answer our income questions. Once we got a sense of what to say, we were ready to finish the application in mid-September. We each answered the same questions the same and yet received our SNAP benefits in wildly different ways. Mara completed her application first and had the first interview. She received her card within a couple weeks of her call with the DTA office (the beginning of October). Her process I would call the most normal of the three of us. Rebekah and I completed our applications on the same afternoon and were notified that we would have our phone interviews the following week. Rebekah’s interviewer was able to show that Rebekah was eligible for Emergency SNAP and she was awarded emergency funds for the rest of the month (September). Later, there was some confusion with whether she was confirmed for benefits yet. Luckily, she was indeed approved and got her card in the mail about 2 weeks later (the beginning of October). So, Rebekah and Mara had their cards and I was still waiting to hear about the status of my eligibility. To make the process of uploading documents easier, we all downloaded the DTA app on our phones. Rebekah and Mara could check their balance status and I could see the status of my application. One afternoon, after Mara and Rebekah had already received their cards in the mail, I looked on the app and saw I was denied for SNAP benefits because of “special projects.” I was confused about why this would be the case as Mara, Rebekah, and I all answered the same questions in the same way and yet our SNAP stories diverged almost immediately. I called the DTA office early the next week to inquire about why I was denied benefits and see if there’s an appeal process. The person I talked to was similarly confused as to why I was denied and changed my status over the phone. Online it still showed my application was “in process,” but I was receiving benefits. By this time (early November), it had been about two months since arriving in Boston and a little over a month since applying for SNAP. The benefits I received then was backlogged since beginning the service year. I now had three months of benefits that I am still working through. In mid-December, I lost my wallet which had my SNAP card in it. I had just gotten my hands on the card and within a few short weeks, I lose it! I had to cancel the card and request a new one. This set in motion a trigger in the SNAP system to issue me an “Interim Report” in early January that makes sure I still have all the same information as before. If I didn’t return the report as soon as possible, my benefits would be canceled by the end of February. My rough road in applying and securing SNAP benefits has been a long and frustrating and unfortunately still an on-going process. While I had my fair share of issues with the application, I am reflecting on how much more difficult it would be if I couldn’t be on the phone while at work for a total of over 4 hours on hold in various frustrating phone conversations. How much more difficult it would be if English weren’t my first language; if I didn’t have two housemates who did get SNAP and could get groceries on their cards; if I needed the benefits right away and had to choose to pay out of pocket for food over something else important. I did not need to worry too much about the lack of SNAP benefits, but my difficult journey to apply, receive, and continue to have benefits makes me mindful of the many compounding difficulties others have when they apply for ongoing SNAP benefits. I am grateful and humbled to struggle with the government system. I have gained valuable insights to the complex means by which benefits can be denied by making a small mistake on an application or confusing a deadline. I have learned to appreciate the privilege I have in not worrying about choosing between food and another essential service. As I began this year of service, I was put alongside another volunteer, Leanne, at the breakfast coffee stop. We stand side by side behind the table covered in upturned mugs awaiting the next order. Requests vary from “Two sugars and some of that pumpkin creamer!” to “Black, please.” Served with a smile as sweet as the teaspoons of sugar in their cup, I began to recognize the faces of regulars. It reinforced the way I see the importance of Living Waters – it emphasizes a community centered on God and provides a safe place to be with others committed to the community. This coffee stop is a part of that community where I can get a read on the consistent guests’ day or facilitate an introduction to a new face.
Living Waters Center for Hope opens at 9 am every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday to allow guests into the hall for breakfast. But, before the doors are ready to be opened, a lot goes into the preparation of the center: Cooks arrive at 7:30am to begin on the eggs and by 8:30, eight tables are set up with black & white checkered tablecloths, flowers in vases, and place settings – reminiscent of a café or restaurant. This set up is intended to show our intentionality in welcoming guests into the hall for a meal together. Even though I have an early commute to Lowell, MA it only gets me to Living Waters around 8:20am. I don’t have much of a hand in the breakfast on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I do get to the center in time to help Leanne, with the coffee setup. We operate an industrial coffee percolator that fills the large coffee urn from which we fill the guest cups. We have two trays each of mugs on our side of the serving table along with containers of sugar, powdered creamer, and sometimes hot cocoa (if we’re lucky!). When Living Waters opens at 9am, the guests sign in and find a place to sit. Once settled, some will approach the coffee area. Leanne and I meet them one by one, filling coffee orders and checking in with the guest on how they’re doing. This coffee station is another place where I am able to interact one on one with the guests. One such guest, Matthew Tuck, has become a sincere friend. He is getting up there in terms of age, but his spirit and compassion are still quite lively. This isn’t to say he’s without troubles. He has to deal with the weather affecting his arthritis and is battling liver cancer. In the moments I get to see Tuck from across the coffee stop table, I meet him where he’s at and listen to what’s been going on in his day-to-day life. Sharing joys, concerns, and even reminders to each other to stay warm in the coming weeks. It was Tuck, too, who alerted the center to some disturbing news from the Lowell shelter. Near the beginning of Fall, the shelter in Lowell stopped giving breakfast to folks who were not living in the shelter. This drove our numbers one chilly morning from the usual 35-40 guests to over 80 folks coming in from the cold. The room was abuzz with conversation heavy with the news of the shelter’s closed doors. Since I don’t entirely know the area or the resources well enough, my first thought was, “Where can the guests get meals when we’re closed?” This question was promptly answered by a small group of folks who stood in front of the coffee stop: “You can’t go hungry in Lowell," they said. This was in reference to the many opportunities to eat at various non-profits such as Living Waters in the area. But the shelter was one of these meal providers! I couldn’t fathom why the shelter was deciding to close its doors to those in need, especially in the steadily decreasing temperatures. To me, this was an injustice that seemed unbelievable. I was in awe of those who took the news in stride and were able to rethink how they will get something to eat elsewhere. I had not experienced a greater example of how God grants resilience and in turn, how folks praised God for what they did have. Not only am I learning resiliency from the people around me, but I am also learning to deepen my faith in trusting in God the great Provider. I have had some trouble distancing myself from the problems many of the folks I interact with recount to me. It isn’t alcoholism in the homeless population, it’s Tuck being sick just outside. It isn’t a shelter closing for political reasons, it’s Jame being told he can’t get lunch at the closest and least expensive place to his construction job. While I cannot help with the shelter situation or the widespread issue of alcoholism, I am able to uplift the individuals I've encountered. God the Provider knows their names and I can only trust in God goodness. In wrestling with my own inadequacies to fix these issues affecting the guests, I have seen how they are able to carry on praising God for the places still open. I want to close this blog with a prayer from Thomas Merton for those who feel lost but trust in our great Provider. My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that, if I do this, You will lead me by the right road, Though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death I will not fear, for You are ever with me, And You will never leave me to face my perils alone. October and November will highlight the areas I have the most interactions within Living Waters: The Shop and breakfast coffee station September was my first full month in the YAV program in Boston, MA. I am placed at Living Waters Center for Hope and Eliot Presbyterian Church in Lowell, MA – at the end of a commuter rail line. Every Tuesday and Thursday I work at Living Waters to engage with people on the street who are seeking to transition to a more stable condition. Beginning in October, Living Waters is transitioning to a center with the goal of lifting up those who are committed to doing the work to better their situation. Living Waters consider itself like the child in the Starfish Story. The Starfish Story by Loren Eisley, for those who haven’t heard it, goes like this: “One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a young child picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean. Approaching the young child, he asked, “What are you doing?” The youth replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going back out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.” “But,” the man said, “Don’t you realize there are miles and miles if beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!” After listening politely, the child bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, said, “I made a difference for that one.” This story speaks to the mission and work of Living Waters: being intentional and helping those who will benefit from the services they offer. The Center is moving from being considered a drop-in shelter to a place to go for help. People who desire aid will look to Living Waters. There are several ways the Center provides opportunities to cultivate the whole person. In this series on Living Waters, I will focus on three services that are offered. This month I will focus on The Shop. -The Shop is a clothing ministry that Living Waters has as one of its workshops aimed at helping those who want help. It has many moving parts that assist in making a retail-like experience for the guests who take advantage of the service.
Beginning at 11am, I assist Cindy, the mastermind behind The Shop. She used to work in retail and has got a system that makes this ministry run well. Her process halts the guests’ feeling like a child in a candy store and refocuses them on getting the items they need. She begins with some one-on-one time to create a connection and recognize their human sacredness. Their living situation is discussed here and done so with care. If someone is living outside, in a shelter, or housed, we base the next steps off of what they will need most. After intentionally checking in, we move to the toiletries cabinet where the guest can receive anything from a toothbrush / toothpaste kit to body lotion to a hairbrush. We try to give as much choice as possible by bringing out the bin of deodorant or brushes for them to choose from. If we have a multitude of items, say an entire bin full of shampoo and conditioner, we give out several of those. Everything is then placed in a black plastic bag to preserve privacy. After the toiletries, the guests are shown the clothes rack. This is often where their eyes light up at the possibilities before them. The guests can take three shirts, two of each type of undergarment, one pair of pants, and one specialty item (anything from a sweatshirt to a poncho to a belt). Once picked out, Cindy and I take the garments, fold them, and place them in the guest’s shopping bag. One Shop experience I won’t forget was a woman, who was very tiny, visiting with her husband. We decided to have them shop separately to maintain a level of privacy, even among newlyweds. She was skeptical about finding a pair of jeans, but we said to look in the bin anyway since she might be surprised at what’s been donated. She dug to the bottom and pulled out these small maroon jeans. As she takes the tape off and lets the rolled pair unravel, she squeals in delight. These were exactly her size, in her favorite color! She carried the pants with her throughout the rest of the time in The Shop until she finally let us put it in her black bag. The joy this experience gave her and the opportunity to choose her clothes rather than be given them was a moment I want to replicate for all who go to The Shop. I have loved seeing what a quick 10-minute appointment can do for the self-esteem, the swagger, the confidence of guests who come to The Shop. This once a week service adds to the Living Waters mission of human dignity and respect by recognizing it throughout their time in The Shop. This week marks the beginning of my YAV year. We spent the final weeks in August at National orientation at Stony Point Center in New York and then I (along with my fellow BFJYAVs) moved to Boston to continued site-specific orientation in another new city! I was especially challenged and stretched these past couple of weeks and continue to be called to new insights throughout the next eleven months.
National orientation kept me wrestling with the suffering this world experiences daily. Why is there injustice in this world when there is a compassionate and ever-present God? Undoubtedly, this question can draw people to religion and drive others far away in search of the answer. I do not speak for any organized denomination in the way I have approached this question, but have drawn on my own experiences, philosophies, and in conversations with mentors in my life. World suffering is caused by the free will of humans acting against the will of God. We are privileged by God with free will – the ability to choose. Our love and devotion to God means so much more when it is a freely chosen act. Freely given love—also known as agape--is the love we are called to model after God’s love for us. This is kind of love is counter to what we often think of as the emotional upswelling of care and adoration of another. This chosen, volitional, unconditional love is one that we decide to give to another. We don’t need a wave of emotions to spur us to action – this is love we give freely. Love we decide to give to Creator and Creation. Because of our ability to choose, however, can choose not to love God. This refusal to love separates us from God’s Will and leads to sin. We, therefore, live in an environment permeated with the effects of sins: Brokenness riddles our world and injustice envelopes and corrupts powerful systems of governance and leadership. We are no longer in the idyllic Garden, equal to one another in our own eyes. Instead, it takes us too long to recognize the ease with which sins occur. National YAV Orientation – or as it was later suggested, Dis-orientation – was focused on making us recognize the sins of the world rooted in race-motivated injustices. We wrestled with the implications and consequences of race. Our continued education on this subject was focused on the damaging effect unawareness of race has on interactions. During our day in New York City, my small group traveled from the grand Riverside Church in Harlem to Tom’s Delicious Pizza to Central Park to Yankee Stadium. We were confronted with several indications of the dynamics this power imbalance puts into play. The most concrete example was when we got our lunch. An important part of our day in NYC was navigating being on a small lunch budget. Our group had 8 people with $5 each allotted for lunch. We decided to pool our resources to get a pizza. This led us to find Tom’s Delicious Pizza that had large pizzas for $15 and waters for $1. To set the scene for those who’ve not gone to Tom’s Delicious Pizza, it was a narrow shop with enough tables to sit about 10 people. When we entered, a woman was ordering to-go and there were two men of color conversing at a table set up for 6 people. Our group of 8 boisterous folks seemed to fill the entire restaurant with our tired feet and hungry attitudes. Once we ordered a large cheese pizza and four waters, most of us moved outside. As we stood on the sidewalk, it became clear that we would not all fit into the restaurant. I was sent back in to see if we could get the pizza to-go so we wouldn’t disrupt the two men. It was too late. The man bringing out our pizza had promised the two we’d left inside he would find a table. What this turned into, however, was the man putting the pizza at the table for six the two men were still in conversation over. We were helped in our displacement of these men of color by our server and we could only stand by and thank the men for giving up their seats for us. Now, what national orientation week told me was that this was clearly a power imbalance expressed through race. What I have learned through uncomfortable life lessons is that nothing is so simple. These men had been sitting and talking, no longer eating any delicious pizza at the biggest table in this cramped restaurant. Our large group of young adults was about to eat pizza but had nowhere to sit and enjoy it. This could also have been a restaurant worker trying to make his customers comfortable and rush out those that are no longer providing revenue. The encounter was turned into only the power dynamics of race that made these men give up their seats for us. I refuse to allow one lens to color how I see the world, but I yearn to see through many. I am still challenged with trying to timely recognize and face the injustices rooted in imbalanced race dynamics as a part of this broken world. I will continue to fall short. The ambiguity of these interactions is another way I will be stretched. It was a challenge from our group leader to quote the song, “Only Time,” by Enya. This month the lyric “Who knows? Only time” speaks to the ambiguity of the many interactions I will encounter in the months to come. My awareness will be a muscle I will strengthen and tone throughout my life. The YAV motto, “A year of service for a lifetime of change” will hold true in spring-boarding me into being more alert and equipped to stand up for the poor, the hungry, the immigrant, the widowed, the orphaned. We are called to look to Christ as the great example for life. He, who lived a life free of sin in a sin-saturated world, shows us the disdain for hiding behind corrupt institutions and unjust laws as an excuse not to fight for the equality of all. We’ve been called to live in the tension of believing in the sacred humanity in everyone as it was in the Garden and fighting to restore the world as the true kin-dom of God. Who can say where the road goes Where the day flows, only time And who can say if your love grows As your heart chose, only time Who can say why your heart sighs As your love flies, only time And who can say why your heart cries When your love lies, only time Who can say when the roads meet That love might be in your heart And who can say when the day sleeps If the night keeps all your heart Night keeps all your heart Who can say if your love grows As your heart chose Only time And who can say where the road goes Where the day flows, only time Who knows? Only time -Enya, “Only Time” I continue to be excited for the opportunity to go to Boston in August to serve for a year. After my conversation with the Boston site coordinator, Sarah, I am filled with anticipation and eagerness to get to work! I have learned that I will no longer be working with a soup kitchen, rather I will be at a resource center focused on ministering to people's needs. This center provides hope in the form of a clothing ministry, food ministry, and dedication to the human dignity of all who walk in the door.
Hi! I'm Sierra. I will be serving in Boston, MA as a Boston Food Justice Young Adult Volunteer (BFJYAV) for the 2019-2020 academic year. I recently graduated college with a Bachelor's degree in Philosophy and minored in Classical Studies. I have been pretty active in my home church all my life going on mission trips and even serving as an Elder in Session and on the Mission Committee. I was able to go to the Presbyterian Youth Triennium my sophomore year of high school and had the opportunity to be a Young Adult Advisory Delegate to the GA in Portland, OR serving on the Social Injustice Committee. I can only explain my feelings around becoming a BFJYAV as right. Every time I think about this opportunity I'm filled with joy and excitement at the multitude of exciting new experiences I will have to learn and grow in faith and community.
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AuthorHi, I'm Sierra! I will be serving in Boston, MA as a Boston Food Justice Young Adult Volunteer for the 2019-2020 academic year. I graduated college with a major in Philosophy and minored in Classical Studies. Archives
July 2020
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