In the spotlight

I don't look for the spotlight. I generally avoid it. But somehow I keep ending up on Spokane's television airwaves. Last fall I volunteered with Youth For Christ and just happened to be the only person home when the director called looking for volunteers to appear in their "Faces of YFC" commercial. I simply looked at the camera, smiled and said "Hi, I'm Stephanei and I'm a face of YFC"
Today I returned from lunch just in time to be beckoned into the conference room. One of the new tv stations in town gave my place of employment an ad and we all lined up against the wall and joined hands to promote volunteerism. The ad will show in 2 weeks. I think the station is KHQ, but I"m not sure....the "new" station is what they said. I don't watch tv, so I probably won't see it.

roller coaster

I have what I need, and yet I never stop yearning. What are we longing for?
I'm seeking stability. In 24 years I have not yet managed to create for myself a peaceful place where I am safe and sane. The twenties seem to be the decade of "in-betweens" and "what next?"
I have an income and a place to rest at night. What I need is to stop searching and look at what I have. I need to take the tools and the bits and pieces I've been given and carve out something that will sustain me and those around me.
But the world doesn't seem to stop long enough for me to do that. Life is one long meeting. And then another and another. And every meeting I attend I manage to volunteer myself for something new. It's time to figure out where I'm going, what denomination I really want to be and look toward the future.
It's also time to head home. The janitors are here. I've never been at work this late before.

moving...again

So the really nice couple next door offered to rent a bedroom and bathroom to me for an amount that by Spokane standards is very minimal. I have mixed feelings about no longer being a Westminster House missioner....but I'll still be in the neighborhood.
I happened to mention to my co-workers yesterday that I like to write adn that it would be totally cool to write for the Inlander. Another co-worker who I didn't even realize was in earshot approached me today as I browsed the Spokesman Review in the breakroom and asked about my comment. I told him I'd interned at a newspaper office in highschool and written an article for The Figtree. I also free-lanced for local papers while in college. Turns out he has a connection with the editor of the Inlander and might be able to get me some writing opportunities. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

one year

So, I've been in Spokane one year.
It's been an eventful year to say the least. I participated in two weddings, found a boyfriend and felt my spirit renewed by his love and attention. (One of my most telling journal entries reads "Just when I thought life could get no stranger, I met a man in a kilt." It was only the second time I'd met Jon, and I was volunteering at Global Folk Art.)
I met many people this year, mostly Presbyterian, grew to adore the girls next door to Westminster House. I promoted Westminster House at two churches, volunteered at a Fair Trade Sale and a Fair trade store, travelled to North Dakota three times, and introduced Jon to my family in North Dakota.
I learned about liberation theology, and Calvinism and atrocities in Guatemala and Gambella, Ethiopia and Colombia.

It's funny. I'd intended to spend the year holed up in my room, preparing for seminary. I spent some time holed up in my room, but I spent more time out and about with Jon meeting people and doing things. But I didn't move much closer to seminary. Although I did preach two sermons and become a missionary to Guatemala. And could I have moved closer to seminary? Would I get a good recommendation now if I applied? Can I handle the East Coast? Am I called to Princeton as I once thought perhaps? Am I closer than I realize?

And I learned a lot about myself this past year. I've learned that the simple words "You're amazing" can empower and enliven.
I've learned that there are many people who care for me and I'm eternally grateful for that fact.
I've learned that I'm not necessarily comfortable relying on myself and just because I WANT to do something I dont' always find the gumption to reach out and do that something.

I've learned how easy it is to make mistakes, to not listen to the voices I should listen to and to listen to the voices I shouldn't. I've learned that a stubborn spirit will lead you nowhere and compromise is a good thing. I've believed in myself the most I've ever believed in myself this year. And I've believed in myself the least. And I've learned that I am not called to believe in myself, but God. I cannot rely on myself, only God.

The RV has been sitting at the corner for at least a year, blocking the view of the cross street. Every time I turn the corner I slow down and turn cautiously, and wonder how long until there is an accident there. Last night I was driving back to the house, thinking about a meeting I was a few minutes late for. I looked and saw nothing, turned right, and suddenly I was in the intersection and so was an SUV and I braked and my glasses flew off and I heard a crunch as my little car collided directly with the front driver's side bumper of a GMC Jimmy. I spent the next few minutes pawing frantically through my car for my glasses. People gathered. A fuzzy man shape in a blue shirt emerged from the driver's side of the SUV. He was ok. I was ok. My car was not okay. It still drives but there is a nice big dent in the middle of the front and the hood is crunched up. Jon and Christopher came up and were incredibly supportive. I was issued a citation since the GMC was to my right. My question right now is this: If I could get up to half the ticket removed by going to court for mitigating circumstances (ie. the RV that was blocking my view) is it worth it? I could save up to $70 from my fine.
I really didn't need a car accident right now.

Park fountain

I really should carry a camera with me at all times. Walking back from lunch I saw something that would have made a wonderful photo. The fountain is normally filled with shrieking children and hesitant adults. It stood silent and dry. A Spokane Parks Maintenance truck was parked next to it and orange barricades circled the manhole leading to the underground plumbing. All around the orange barricades a ring of children in still damp bathing suits lined up staring intently at the maintenance worker who shouted down the hole, "Can you hurry up and turn it on down there? I think they're going to through me down the hole in a minute!!"

...........

I woke up feeling despondant this morning. Guatemala trip is over, have to back to work, can't decide whether or not to move out of the house, not sure if they'll let me stay, can't go back to North Dakota for a long long time. I hung out with Jon and two of his friends who go back to elementary school last night. It was fun, but my heart aches for the friends I left behind. Alycia, Lisa, Katie, Krys, Glen, Catherine, Karisa.....especially those I didn't get to see on my trip to ND. Will I ever see you guys again? The future looks like this fuzzy gray empty space again. Am I really going to follow through with this Americorps thing? I'm not really facilitating this Earned Income Tax coalition thing....just showing up at work, sending a few e-mails and pretending to know what I'm doing. I don't WANT this job and didn't in the first place... and yet I applied for it just to have a job of some sort. I just feel lost and hopeless. And it's my fault. It helps somehow to write this all down.

How?

How do you eat a meal of tortillas and rice and an enormous bowl of soup when a little boy with hungry eyes is staring at you from across the room?
How do you fall asleep to a rainstorm knowing you're sleeping dry in a hotel bed while the local pastor and his five kids are in a stick home with a dirt floor that the water is possibly running right through?
How do you return to a materialistic society knowing your brothers and sisters have so little?

Guatemala

I signed onto the 12th delegation from the Presbytery of the Inland Northwest to the Mayan K'ekchi churches in Guatemala. I leave tomorrow with nine other people. We'll be gone until the 18th of August. I fully expect my eyes to be opened and my views of the world to be completely rearranged. I know there is deep poverty in this world, but have I ever REALLY looked poverty in the face? I've heard the heart breaking stories from someone very dear to my heart who has been to Guatemala twice. I've seen the sorrow in his eyes as he speaks of the people he met. Now I go to see for myself. I pray that I may be changed. I pray that somehow I might make some difference in this dark world. Or rather, I pray that God, would make some difference through me.
Right now I'm still struggling to pack.
Father...prepare me.

quotes from The International Journal of Servant Leadership

"The most difficult and true work of art is to love someone."

Vincent Van Gogh

"Many waters cannot quench love. Love is stronger than death."

(Song of Songs)

Happy Nine-month-i-versary Jon!!

So it's nine months today that Jon and I have been dating. We had lunch together and it's so nice to work downtown in an office and be able to walk over and meet him for luch.

singularity and community

It's interesting living in a city where we speak in plurals rather than singulars. My housemate chuckled once when I referred to the town "cop" rather than cops. My hig shchool, despite being rather cliquish, still only had "A goth" and "A cowboy" and maybe one or two "wannabe Gangsta kids" (I was the wierd bookish smart kid who never got in trouble and tried to be sorta hippie-ish or granola or whatever you want to call it. Word to the wise: when half your classmates have parents who raise beef cattle, giving a persuasive speech on why vegetarianism is good in English class will NOT win you any popularity points. Yeah, that was me.)
As someone who is used to standing alone and doing her own thing, it has been a definite struggle to operate as part of a community. I am called to community. We are all members of one body and each have our own unique and important gifts. Yet, somehow I managed to dive straight onto my face in the endeavor of living in community. Being vindictive, griping about people behind their backs and telling yourself you're just fine on your own are NOT healthy ways to be part of community. Anyway, I'm praying for change, and I've done a good deal of apologizing along the way.
No one said community was eas.y

utopia revisited

While I was doing Sidewalk Sonday School I was also in search of the perfect town. First I thought Claremont, SD was my Utopia. Then I thought it was Spearfish, SD, then Hot Springs and then I went to Holden Village and I liked that at first.....then there was Finland and Germany. Then I thought "Maybe Spokane..." But none of them are really Utopia.
And now I know. Utopia is really just the place I've left. Utopia is wherever I miss the most.
Home.
Ever since I committed to another year in Spokane I've been more homesick than ever.

Selling my soul for poverty wages

After wasting time worrying about job hunting, spending little time actually job hunting, and finally praying aobut the whole thing, I am employed.

Despite the time I spent fretting over the want ads with a highlighter, both positions actually came about through word-of-mouth.

Friday I started temporary work as an activities aide at an Adult Day Center. I will be helping take the clients from one activity to another, pushing wheelchairs and such. I'll also help out at lunch and then lead games and activities after lunch. My secret weapon is my ability to play piano and I'm expected to lead sing-a-longs every so often. The job lasts only a few hours each day and only for the month of June, but the people are friendly and the atmosphere is upbeat. Everyone in the program has lost some of their mental or physical capacity, but there is a certain light in their eyes. I plan to enjoy this more than taking orders for disgustingly expensive outerwear.

In July I embark on an entirely new adventure. At the urging of a friend from the Presbyterian Peacemaking Network, I applied for an Americorps position working with Spokane Neighborhood Action Program and The United Way. I was the only person applying that I'm aware of and they needed the position filled quickly, so naturally I was awarded the position. I'll be coordinating the C.A.S.H program. I'll explain more about this as I learn more, but for now I can say it involves grant writing, coordinating volunteers at free tax preparation sites and building awareness for a tax credit for working families.
I've signed up for a year of volunteer service as I'm completing a year of volunteer service. I'll get a subsistence wage and healthcare benefits, which means I'll be able to pay for rent and a little food, gas to get back and forth to work, and perhaps occasionally go to a doctor. Is this foolish? Perhaps. But I know that I cannot use my abilities simply to help someone get richer. There is more to life. I'm counting on the idea that although I won't be able to buy much I'll find fulfillment in the knowledge that I'm using my time and energy to do something of lasting importance.

Spring slips into summer

Memorial day has come and gone and I'm daydreaming about hikes in the mountains. The spring has been less than ideal, but I'm pressing on. I taught my last piano lesson a little over a week ago and we finished our last Logos session two days ago. As much as I want to say that I'll miss Logos, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Despite my four years prior children's ministry experience, the sad truth is that I really struggle to connect with kids. I want to teach them about the Bible stories and I want to come up with creative and exciting learning activities, but I really end up spending most of the time asking them to sit down and listen. Or to stop hitting each other. Or stop climbing up the shed. I don't mind one or two children for a short amount of time, but the noise and commotion of 50 children packed into a church sanctuary makes me want to curl into a ball and wait for them to go home.

I keep reminding myself that children don't become belligerent bullies overnight. I know that most of these kids aren't getting three nutritious meals a day. Many go home to dim houses that haven't been cleaned in ages and smell of sweat, greasy food and dog. Many don't have parents who care enough to keep track of where they go, or their parents are in prison, or working too many hours a day.

Jessica and I were settling in for the evening as the doorbell rang. A smallish boy with dark hair and bluish circles under his eyes stood on our front walk. I could see a larger boy crouched behind the picket fence next door.
"What's up guys? It's 10:30 at night!" I said.
"We're just walking around" the little one replied. The older one came out from behind the fence.
We invited them in for awhile and Jessica made them hot chocolate. We asked if they'd come to Logos before and the larger one said he'd gotten kicked out for fighting. He slouched in the chair, his hood covering his eyes. I asked the younger one what he liked in school. He said "science."

I wondered where the bluish circles under his eyes came from. Had he been crying? His expression was permanently wistful. He got very quiet and looked up at the ceiling, then at the walls.
"I don't know why, but I haven't gotten any letters from my uncle lately."
"Where's your uncle?"
"He's in jail."
"How long has it been since you got a letter?"
"A month. He used to write all the time. He has seven more months to go."

"You don't hear from your dad either, do you." said the older one.
"No."

"Do you live with your mom?" I asked.
"No, she's in jail too. I live with my grandma."

They finished their cocoa and they left at 11:00 pm to walk the few blocks home in the dark.

Later I was remembered these boys had come last fall. We'd kicked them out because they'd started fighting with another boy in our living room. We'd asked them to leave two our three times and it wasn't until I flipped off the TV in front of them and Jessica told them they absolutely HAD to go NOW that they left. On our front walk they had stolen his coat and taunted him. I grabbed one by the shoulders, made him drop the coat (he tossed it) and I told them to "JUST GO HOME!" I remember the righteous indignant fury I'd felt then. Now I know where they come from. Now I feel only pity.

Thoughts of Home: Goats

My aunt's two Nanny-goats just kidded. One had twins. Here is one of the babies.

Thoughts of Home: Chokecherries

These chokecherry bushes grow next to the "Oil Shed." Now they have dainty white blossoms. This fall those blossoms will become small deep purple chokecherries with almond flavored stones in the center and a thick bitter sweet tart flavor.

Thoughts of Home: Lilacs

They call Spokane the lilac city, but I still haven't seen any lilacs that rival these bushes outside the kitchen window at home in North Dakota. Maybe I'm just not looking very hard.

What a weekend...

Bloomsday, a visit from a North Dakota college friend, and Jon's firm's 15th anniversary celebration, all rolled into one big weekend.
Tomorrow about 45,000 runners will stream through the streets of Spokane in the 30th annual Bloomsday celebration. The entire route is 12 kilometers. I briefly considered walking the race but the registration deadline blew past me, like an "Elite" runner from Kenya. If I want to walk 7.46 miles I can walk that distance without paying the registration deadline any time I like. Maybe I'll do Bloomsday next year.

Ashley is here for the weekend! It's fortunate that she picked this weekend, since she gets to partake in the Bloomsday festivities. We've had fun exploring downtown, shopping a bit, and taking the city bus.

And to top it all off I got to meet one of the richest men in Spokane and partake in an evening that included champagne and appetizers, a toast to a 15-year-old design and architecture firm and lots of fancy people in evening dress. We celebrated the firm's fifteen-year anniversary at the Davenport Hotel, which is owned by Walt Worthy, one of the firm's clients. The festivities began here, in the Hall of Doges, then moved to here for the evening meal. It was a bit overwhelming at moments, but overall the evening was most memorable and enjoyable.

Editors!! Hmph!

I wrote an article on a subject very near and dear to my heart. I did THREE interviews. I stayed up late working on the article and when I sent it to The Fig Tree I had edited it very well. I'd sent a check copy to the person I'd written it about and edited the piece to reflect his input. I had done my best to let his words and his passions come through in the article and I'd thought the best way to do this was to quote him as accurately as possible. When it came to questions of editing his quotations for length I turned to the Associated Press's "Styleguide and Libel Manual" which I was given by a professional freelance writer. The AP styleguide made it very clear that in news stories quotations should NEVER BE ALTERED.

The published version of my article has been altered. I understand that editors edit...that is their job. But they changed the entire tone of my article and they altered Jon's quotes. They removed words so they don't really sound like what he actually said. They changed my title. And they refer to him on their website as a YOUTH. Right....he may be young and handsome but he's in his upper twenties.

All writing should be clear and concise, true, but is it not "writing down to the reader" if you condense all your articles into flat bitesize morsels? Shouldn't an article draw the reader in? Shouldn't the reader WANT to know more? Shouldn't they be inspired?
I wrote the article to share with readers what I heard.......a compassionate impassioned man who wants his nation to know that poverty exists and we need to do something about it.