Monday, October 25

"I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake." Relient K

There is too much going on. I will not list everything that is overwhelming me because that will cause me to feel selfish and obnoxious. All I can say is that I have no idea how I get here and how to get myself out. There is no time to take a break. There is no time to catch up. Deadlines are deadlines regardless of how I am feeling, or what is going on in my life. There will always be people to disappoint no matter how hard I'm trying. There will always be people who don't get my values or understand where I'm coming from. The success of my life is not a continuum. There is not 100% of me to allocate to class, Ministry Team, SLC, Illuminae, BGG, admissions and whatever else I happen to be doing. I need to give 100% to all of those things. I do not know how to do that.

I want to live alone. I want to control my academic life and my social life. I want to be able to see people when I can (and want to). I want to choose. I want to be able to go home and cry, or not do dishes, and never vacuum unless company is coming over. I want to be able to do a good job. I need to do a good job and I feel like I can't right now. I do not know what to do. There are too many things to put on a list. 31 e-mails in my inbox, which is a lot for me. I usually have about 4, because I take care of them and put them in their folder.

I want to be any place but inside my head.

Wednesday, July 7

"Personal Statement" Mexico Application

In 2007, I spent two weeks in Mexico learning about border issues, as well as Mexican culture and history. Ever since, I have had an insatiable desire to explore the people and culture of Mexico. I began to follow immigration reform more closely in world media, as well as sharing my experiences in my friend groups, church, and school. Mexico became so much more to me than the country with which we share a border. Unfortunately, a potentially large and certainly vocal group of people in the U.S. have made it clear that they believe that is all Mexico should be. By spending four months in the heart of Mexico, engaging with its people and with others who share a similar passion for the country, I will be able to learn more thoroughly and deeply about Mexico. A mentor once taught me that people often characterize a nation by its poverty and forget about the richness of its culture. By participating in the service-learning program in Guadalajara, I am confident that I will learn just as much (if not more) about the richness of Mexican culture as I learn about the poverty.

Having a global focus is something that continues to become important to me. Realizing that I am a tiny piece of a much larger global community is humbling. Studying and serving in Guadalajara will make the huge world much more manageable. Becoming fluent in Spanish unlocks, essentially, an entire hemisphere of the planet. I will learn more than just a language, though. The service-learning component to my study abroad experience will teach me about the Mexico’s past as well as give me an opportunity to become part of its future. My experience will be more than taking classes in a different country. It will be filled with diverse and unique encounters with an even more diverse group of people. I hope to gain a stronger sense of personal identity while still thriving in an ever changing global community.

The best way I know how to explain what I will give to this program is to say that I commit to giving myself, fully and wholly. I will engage my mind, body, and spirit in ways that are outside my comfort zone. Because of that, I will give my passion, enthusiasm, and vitality to every encounter I have. I will be consistent in the classroom, in my host family’s home, and in any service agency with which I have the opportunity to work. I also plan on giving to the program when my four month experience in Guadalajara is complete. I will be an ally and an advocate for the people with whom I meet and share. My passion will not be quelled in four months; a service-learning opportunity is really only the beginning of my relationship with Mexico and its people.

I can only begin to list the ways I will benefit from a hands-on service-learning experience combined with classroom education. The Spanish language is something I want to explore, study, and utilize in future academic work, as well as along my career path. Knowing Spanish more accurately than any text book can teach me will change the way I pursue ministry and social work, while opening more doors to new experiences. My service-learning experience in Guadalajara will be a richer one than if I solely took classes at a university. There will be more balance in my life for those four months because I will be actively engaging with the things I am learning about in the classroom. My identity will be developed and well rounded. The quality of my service will be better, which will make me more efficient, leading to better relationships in the service agency, the classroom, and at the house which will become my home. When I was discerning which program to study through, IPSL stuck out as the obvious choice. I cannot imagine a better way to solidify classroom learning than to experience it firsthand.

Tuesday, July 6

“Open confession is good for the soul” Scottish Proverb

So. I'm working on my application for study away in Guadalajara, Mexico. I've come to realize that I'm really nervous and scared. I have such a battle going on in my head: it feels like the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. One half of me is fretting about the language, and the service agency with which I'll get paired, and the money, and the culture shock, and the closet. The other half of me knows that if I don't do this, I will regret it every single day for the rest of my life. I know that this is the right thing to do. I know this is the right time to do it. It is time for me to become independent and to grow up. It is also time that I become fluent in Spanish O:) I'm nervous, though, to be a gringo. I'm nervous that people in Mexico will see me as fulfilling my obligation to ease the "white mans burden". I am choosing the International Partnership for Service-Learning and Leadership because it will be what is most different, and yet most necessary for my intellectual, academic, spiritual, personal, and global growth. This is the right thing to do, and yet I am terrified. I believe it will be my daily hope and prayer that I become ready for this challenge, and if not, I hope God and my family and my friends will help me through it. So, for now, I will wait it out in prayer. I will be honest in my application. I will focus. I will anticipate the people I will meet and the experiences I will have and remember that they will all be worth the discomfort and fear. All things are possible with God.

Monday, April 19

I just exercised.

And it feels awesome.
I can take back my body from everything that has been stressing me out. This is the one thing I can control, and I'd like to.

Saturday, April 17

::silence::

Whenever I give up on my work for God, I am reminded why I have embraced the call.

I recently wrote an electronic devotional (evotional) for the church at which I am interning. Just this evening, I got an e-mail containing something along the lines of the following:

This gentleman's uncle passed away, after having been a long time member of this church. The pastor who delivered the memorial service for this uncle referenced something I had written. The uncle had my piece out on his nightstand, and the pastor had found it. The original gentleman said, "So Ally, THANK YOU for writing a wonderful Evotional, it must have been one of the last things my uncle read."

I am speechless. I'm surprised I've gotten this far. All I can do is give thanks to God for providing people and circumstances in my life who have encouraged me to embrace my call to some sort of pastoral care. I am so thankful. There are really not enough words for how much this means in the context of my life right now.

May it be so.

Wednesday, April 14

"True colors are beautiful like a rainbow."

Unimportant note: in my head, I hear the Glee version of this song.

At Elmhurst College this week, it is PRIDE week. Three people (we're pretty sure they are male) took the liberty (one they really didn't have) to slash through our huge pride flag.

I don't need to write to you about how inappropriate and cowardly their actions were.

All I can ask is that you become an ally, and an active one. We cannot do this alone.

I have never been more scared. or more proud.

Tuesday, April 13

"If you want to be happy, be." Leo Tolstoy

This may be a cheesy entry, but it is about Glee. Yes, the TV show. It started again today. Season 1 continued. Or is it season 2? Who knows. What I do know, though, is how I feel with regard to Glee. They picked the perfect title for that show. I feel so happy.

But I think there is a lot more to this. I like Tolstoy's words. If I want to be happy, all I need to do is let myself be happy. I'm not saying that I can choose how I feel, or choose how I respond to the world around me. What I can choose is what attitude I take for my life. This is my life. I don't need to be sad or stifled because my best friend is PMSing, or because another friend is overwhelmed with work and deadlines. I can love them and empathize with them, but I do not need to embrace their emotions as my own.

I also don't need a reason to be happy. If I want to be happy, I can be. Every individual is entitled to happiness, and that includes me. As much as I want to give to others (emotionally, spiritually, physically), I need to keep those things for myself, too. I don't like the idea of withholding from others to keep for myself, but joy is a renewable resource. I hope the people I love can learn that they deserve to embrace happiness for themselves, too.

Monday, April 12

"I listened to the music and thought about all the things that people have said to me over the past year." Perks of Being a Wallflower

I am going to embark on what might be one of the most challenging musical tasks of my life.

My best friends are graduating college and what does that mean? Mix tapes.

This may sound trivial to many of you, but I have found that I don't always have the courage to tell people how I feel so I make them mix tapes.

Each song has a meaning. A song could have lyrics that perfectly describe how I feel about someone, or how I've felt in the past. It could have lyrics that describe a moment we've shared together. The song itself could be the song we danced to at every party, or listened to every time we got into her car, or the song she always seemed to have as her Facebook status.

Some songs have the perfect melody to describe the song she wrote in my heart. It might have the sinking bass line that fits how low we've been together. It might have the perfect chord to display how correct and perfect everything felt with her.

[I use gender specific pronouns because all of my best friends are female.]

Most days, lyricists can describe how I feel better than I can. Fear not, friends. Each mix tape will have (what is likely to be) a long hand written note expressing whatever is left on my heart.

The words may have lost their meaning, but I love you. each and every one of you.

Sunday, April 11

“Broad-minded is just another way of saying a fellow's too lazy to form an opinion" Will Rogers

I'm not sure what that quote means in relation to my lack of blogging, but I know that I have not put my own mental sanity at a priority level. It is my hope to get back on track over the next few days so that I might explore more beautiful areas of life.

I am happy because I went through and did a lot with my e-mails tonight. I went from 45 to 19, which doesn't sound like a lot, but it really is for me. I prefer a smaller inbox.

Tonight, I'll be praying for good relationships for the people I love. And I'll be praying for my family as they are in different parts of their lives and different parts of the country.

I love you, mom and dad. I hope you're having fun on your trips. You mean everything to me.

I will try not to be lazy in my blogging anymore. Thanks for the grace period.

Wednesday, April 7

"When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am." Goo Goo Dolls

Note: I'd encourage you to listen to this song while reading. I am.

I am listening to this song and remember concerts I have been to in my life. There is nothing quite like singing a song at the top of your lungs. It feels like the first time you've ever heard the song, only you know how the song feels in your heart. You think of that person, or place, or time. You remember everything so vividly. I'd like to argue that this feeling is better than any high from any drug, even though I don't do drugs. I can't imagine anything chemically creating this feeling of oneness with so many people all at the same time.

3:48
It's you. And so many people who have felt those lyrics with you. Those chord progressions. That bass beat. All are one.

I've never been to a Goo Goo Dolls concert, but I've been to others. I know these words are true, even though I've not done it with this song. It really is beautiful how similar we all are.

Tuesday, April 6

"It's only you, beautiful, or I don't want anyone. If I could choose, it's only you." Brand New

Days are never long enough or busy enough to make you forget why you fell for someone in the first place.

Sorry this is late. And that is really all I have for today, anyway.

Monday, April 5

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." e.e. cummings

01. Sorry this is late; I didn't get back to my room until ten minutes ago. We were working on a display case for Take Back the Campus Week.
02. I used the same Ralph Waldo Emerson quote twice. I realized earlier today.

What about today ... I think the greatest part of today was seeing some of the people I love laughing. I think people are their truest selves when they laugh so much that they cannot control it anymore.

One friend laughed because I think she felt silly, and was reminded of times when life was simple. All it took was a triple-dog-dare to spoon a huge fork full of pie into her mouth. The idea was so standard, so meaningless, and yet she laughed in a way that reminded me so much of who I believe she is.

Another friend and I just had to look at each other. She knew what I was thinking before we had even made eye contact. We knew the interaction that was about to follow, so she just laughed. The familiarity that comes along with a friendship like this one makes all the serious times easier and the humorous times that much funnier.

Yet another friend just watched me do something stupid, and she let out a small chuckle and shook her head. That was something beautiful to me, too. Nothing grandiose or from the gut, but from the heart. The ease of teasing and meaningless taunts came to a climax with a small chuckle and an "oh allykins..."

For the pure and truest forms of joy, I am so thankful. And especially for those who bring that joy into my life.

Sunday, April 4

"Everything in the universe goes by indirection. There are no straight lines." Ralph Waldo Emerson

I don't do well at this whole blogging thing. What I really want to write about is the amazing feeling I got in the depths of my heart at the anthem I heard the small choir share at an 8:00 am service celebrating the risen Christ.

But all I feel like I can write about is my current state. It feels impossible to draw on the warmth and hope I felt so early this morning. All I can feel is how I feel now. And I don't want to use this blog project to sort out my feelings because what the heck kind of read is that, for anyone who might read this? I want to be able to process things and reflect on what I really want to remember for the day. And here I go ... processing my feelings.

And what will happen after this is that I will leave the situation that is claiming my entire attention, and I will go to sleep. I'm great at avoiding things, I think.

I also know that this public blog is not the place to process all the things I need to process in order to have a functioning life. Maybe I will have to start writing (by hand!) in my regular journal again. That really helped in London. I think it needs to help now, too.

To anyone who stuck with this entry this far, thanks. And hopefully I'll have something better tomorrow.

Saturday, April 3

"Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose." Tennessee Williams

Here is a break from the Holy Week-themed entries of the past few days. Today, all I did was have fun. This is not intended to be a catalog of the days events, but today reminded me how life can be good, just by happening.

I woke up and picked up around the house, sort of got my stuff all together. I baked some cookies for our police officer friend, Suzanne, to have after she got off a 16 hour shift. I went bowling with Stacey, which was a lot of fun. I got 111 the first time (Stacey got 117) and the second I got 77 (Stace got 100). I also had bumpers! Oh man. what fun. I've not been bowling in almost a year. This was a nice treat. We took a nice drive to Dani's apartment to grab Stacey's swim suit; on the way home, she got some KFC. We started making cookies and then realized we needed more sugar, or some such thing. And that I also had forgotten my car in downtown Elmhurst! We went to the Jewel over by school and drove home listening to the same few songs on the radio (Telephone, Bedrock, Whatcha Say) I proceeded to spill oats on myself. Stacey rocked mom's mixmaster with oatmeal cookies. We put chocolate chips in some, craisins in some, and she put some walnuts in hers. We "did homework" while they baked, and by that I mean did NOT do homework at all! Suzanne and her daughter Olivia came over, so we played with her a bit; we had Domino's for dinner. Stace and I went swimming and it was fun; I'd not been swimming in a long time.

I like to believe that there is some lesson to be learned every day, or something to conclude, or some sort of take-away point. Today, that little nugget is not something to be described with words, it is to be felt in a new friendship, or in the life of a small child, or in the joy of laughter.

Friday, April 2

Jesus .. remember me when you come into your kingdom.

(I've not watched the images on the video, only listened.)

This song has been on my mind all day. It is Good Friday. God's Friday. This is the most poignant part of the crucifixion of Jesus, for me. There God Incarnate is. Dying. Near him are two others, dying, suffering just as he is. One mocks Jesus, pleading for his own life, asking Jesus to "save us, and [him]self!" The other man accepts that he is dying, right next to the Christ. He chides the first man, reminding him that they are both condemned justly, but that Jesus had done nothing to deserve death ..and yet, he hung their dying as well.

Imagine this man, turning to Jesus ..calling to Jesus. Imagine him saying with every desperate gasp of his dying breaths, "Jesus .. remember me when you come into your kingdom."

The entire point of the betrayal, the death, and the rising of Christ happens in Jesus next words.. "truly, I tell you: today, you will be with me in paradise." The man Jesus says these words to is a criminal. And yet, Jesus, as he hang dying as well, invites the man to be with him in paradise. Jesus makes a relationship with this man.

This isn't particularly eloquent or profound; Jesus takes all that credit today. I am glad to call him teacher and brother.

Thursday, April 1

"Never make a defense or an apology until you are accused." King Charles I

Tonight, I participated in a relatively common experience, but still it was one I'd not yet had. Today is Maundy Thursday. It is the day in the Christian church when we remember the last supper Jesus had with his disciples before he was killed. At tonights service, I was given the opportunity to wash peoples feet. The first man who came to my basin asked if he could wash my feet as well, and I accepted. A mother came with her young daughter, and they washed each others feet. The mother asked the daughter if she was thinking about Jesus doing this same action, too. Others came and went in silence. Then a young boy, I would guesstimate around 8th or 9th grade, came and sat on the chair and started apologizing. His tone was not one of repentance or cleansing, but he kept saying "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." as if I would rather be doing something else. I wonder if there were other things on his heart. What drew him to leave his table and sit in the chair in the corner so that I may wash his feet? What may he be thinking now, mere hours later? I kept telling him not to be sorry, that I was glad to do this for him, that I wanted to. He wouldn't look at me or at his feet, but kept looking elsewhere. It is my hope that whatever might be lingering in his spirit will be shaken more with tomorrow's remembrance of Jesus' death, and that his spirit will be calmed by the new covenant created by Christ's resurrection.

Tuesday, March 30

"God has no other hands than ours." Dorothee Sölle

Well. It's been a while, hasn't it? I have intended to blog countless times. But as with all good intentions comes an often less good reality to get in the way. Today, though, life happened so drastically that I literally can't help but write about it in order to make something resembling sense. Some of you may remember the educational trip in which I participated with Lancaster Theological Seminary's young adult program, LeadershipNow. We traveled to the borderlands of Mexico and learned about migrant life through a program called BorderLinks with the intention of being advocates for the children of God that governments have forgotten. We built relationships: with each other, with migrants who had yet to cross the desert into the United States, with those who had been deported from the United States, as well as those advocating for the basic human rights for all migrants.

Last summer, someone shared an opportunity with me to become trained to visit detained migrants in McHenry County jail (a county or two northwest of DuPage County). I went to this training in the hopes of living the words and promises I had said and made to the people I met in Mexico. Months and months passed and I heard nothing from this group, so I added the training to a list of life experiences and moved on. Then, a month or two ago, I got a letter with the list of the ministry team of which I was a part. Today was the first day I visited McHenry County jail and the people there.

I met a woman at her home and she drove the both of us to the jail. She lives about 15 minutes away from the jail and an hour from me. I am quite grateful that my dad drove me to her home because 2 hours on the train to sit idle with my nerves would not have been helpful. I sat in her home and waited nervously for her to be ready to leave. Once we were in her vehicle, I asked her to describe what the day would look like; she did.

We arrived at the detention center and I was instantly doing it wrong. Instead of putting my drivers license through the smaller-than-mailbox-sized slot in the wall, I attempted to go into the office to give it to the guards. After my continued confusion with the procedure, I locked all my things away in a locker and clipped on my red visitor tag. We were taken to a "library", if you could even call it that. We had a few minutes before the first group (all women) came in so I got to see the forms we were to use. One was a chart on which we could record information to make phone calls for the detainees, since making calls on their own behalf costs the money they don't have. The second sheet was a prayer request sheet that is passed on to local parishes that they might pray for those being detained.

Suddenly the room was full of women in orange jump suits. I talked to a woman from Mexico who has lived in Chicago her entire life. She has not seen her son in five and a half months. She has court next week. Please pray for her release. A woman from Korea can't be in touch with her mother because her mother's phone is blocked-- but her mother does not understand what "blocked" means, so the situation is not fixed. The women left. Men came in afterward. I will skip the second interaction I had and return to it since it is responsible for my lack of homeostasis. My third interaction was with two Polish men. One man was very excited to return to his family. The other couldn't figure out what he is meant to do with his life and hopes daily for some guidance. He couldn't fathom how I already knew what I want to do with my life.

We then broke for a half hour so the jail could do its head count.

After break, we met with another group of men. I chatted with an older man from Mexico who grew up here. He's only been around Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Our time ended and I chatted with a man from Zambia, as well as another man from Poland. The older man from Zambia has relationships with the others with whom I was visiting. His wife is in dialysis. Please pray for her. The man from Poland shared some of his struggles with regard to his faith. How moving that after a few short minutes, he felt comfortable sharing something so private.

After this, I was driven to the train station and I came home to my place of comfort and privilege.

Let me return to the encounter I skipped. He is a man of only 24 years, from Mexico. We talked and laughed together for the entire 15 minutes we were able to spend together. He and I had an interaction together on the grounds of the callings and convictions of my faith. He and I were Christ to each other. When it was time for our time to end, I reached out to him for a hug, and we did. I was then scolded quite sternly for providing such an embrace. The note about not hugging the detainees was in a letter I had not read in two months. It is against the rules of the detention center, among other things. At the time, I was terrified. I shut down. I was worried that I would be asked to leave, or worse, that we all would. I was terrified that the guard monitoring the visits would pull me aside to scold me as well. Every other word from my mouth was an apology, and yet I was not told "it's alright, just don't do it again". That was really tough.

I believe I did the right thing by hugging that man. It may have been against the rules, or breaking protocol, but it was the right thing. If God has no other hands than ours, how do I not use those hands to be Christ to others? I am still unsettled in my spirit; this is the first time, really, that I have blatantly disagreed with an authority figure on behalf of Christ. I know that no one ever said following Christ would be easy. I think I was not prepared, today, to take such a new course of action for my faith.

Feedback? Prayers, please.