Sometimes You Have to Break to be Whole

This past Monday night was my house's first prayer night of the year.  Prayer nights are a long standing practice at Amate, and are different in each community based on the wants and needs of its members.  Basically, Amate House asks us to regularly schedule time to gather as a house community for prayer and/or reflection.  South House decided that this year we will have prayer together every Monday evening.  Each week, a different member of our house will lead the community in a discussion, meditation, prayer, or the like, based on his or her own faith background and spiritual practices.

This week, one of our house members decided to facilitate a discussion on how each one of us connects with God.  We gathered in the prayer room with dimmed lights and lit candles and shared what is so often taboo to discuss in other social contexts - our faith.  It was moving to hear everyone's stories about how they came into their faith, the struggles they have had, and the unique ways in which they each connect with God or the divine.  When I took my turn, I talked a lot about Stonehill.  I talked about how much I loved being in Campus Ministry, how I took advantage of every opportunity possible to try out different ministries, and how much I loved the Congregation of Holy Cross.  I spoke from the heart and it felt nice to share, but almost immediately after the next person began speaking, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  Once the words had actually spilled out of my mouth, the reality set in and I realized just how much my time at Stonehill had shaped me.

Anyone who knows me knows I am prone to crying - it's how I've always been and likely how I always will be.  That being said, it was surprising that I had not really cried at all since coming to Chicago.  Well, Monday night - I cried.  I had a few tears during prayer night (easily concealed by the dim lighting), and then took some time alone in my room to really let it out.  I cried for my family and friends who felt so far away, I cried for my love of the CSCs and for Campus Ministry.  I cried for the people I serve, the people I have to turn away, the people in my community.  I cried for the world.  It was a solid half hour of feeling so heavy and so broken.  It sounds awful, but in truth it was healing.  Without realizing it, I had been bottling up so many different feelings in order to push through the many tasks thrown my way throughout orientation and the first week of work.  After taking time to breathe and relax again, I felt healed.  I felt ready to better face the year ahead, now more aware of the different things affecting me and more prepared to address and cope with them as they arise.  

In my time of reflection after prayer night, I also realized something else.  Much of the sadness I felt for not being at Stonehill related back to Campus Ministry.  While in part this is certainly due to the people that I spent time with there, it also had a lot to do with missing the act of ministry.  As I took my turn speaking during prayer night, I found myself saying how I best connected with God through service in liturgy.  In my time at Stonehill, I was a lector, a choir member, a Eucharistic Minister, a minister of hospitality, and a gift bearer (sometimes all in one liturgy!).  I also helped coordinate prayer services and liturgies for the Sem Community and for the Stonehill Community.  By senior year a large portion of my spare time was spent learning about ministry and putting what I learned into practice.  I spoke about how much I missed these opportunities now that I am in a new place where I don't have an established faith community or a place to practice my faith in this way.  As I reflected privately after prayer night, I realized that this was an important revelation.  Not only was my faith a very central part of my life, but ministry was a very critical part of my faith.

For several months now I have been considering getting an M.Div. in the near future and pursuing a career in ministry, but have recently been wavering and unsure if this was really my calling.  I'm not saying that one prayer night has made me 100% confident, but it has caused me to think and pray more about my future.  The longing in my heart to serve others in their faith experience is most certainly present.  Now, I suppose, it is time for me to start discerning just how I am supposed to go about living that vocation.

So in the end, shedding a few (all right, more than a few) tears was important.  It made me evaluate myself, my experience, and my future.  I guess sometimes you have to break in order to become more whole.

Getting Things Done for America

I can't believe how quickly the time is flying, but I have already finished two full work weeks at my service site!  It has been a great experience so far, but definitely a challenging one as well.  Here are some of the highlights:

My Duties:
Most days, I spend A LOT of time on the phone.  It's my job to answer all phone calls that come to the main line of the office.  These can be potential clients, current clients, people looking to volunteer, and social service agencies looking to learn about our organization.  I even recorded the new voicemail/automated menu today...eeek!  When I'm not on the phone, I spend time speaking with clients face-to-face when they come in for scheduled appointments or wander in hoping to find help.  I also do some data entry, mailing, and photocopying when I have down-time.

The Challenges:  
SPANISH.  Only one other person in the office speaks Spanish, so my minimal skills are put to ever-increasing use.  I swear that word is getting out in the Latino community because every day I have more and more phone calls and voicemails in Spanish.  I am hardcore riding the struggle-bus on this front, but am working to improve my skills every day.

RESOURCES.  So many things to learn about the services available in Chicago - it's unreal.  While we do our best to accommodate people at our office, sometimes we're unable to offer the help people need and I have to refer them out to other places.  I have a long list of organizations in Chicago that offer legal aid and it's broken down by categories (domestic violence, bankruptcy, etc.), but I still have so much to learn about what each of these places do so I can truly direct people to the best place for their case.

SAYING NO.  Quite possibly the thing I have the hardest time with at work - saying no.  Sometimes it happens when a person calls for services we don't offer, or for a department that is already overloaded with cases.  "Unfortunately that's not something we would be able to take on right now," I say in my most polite voice, followed by, "I do have the numbers for a few other places that might be able to assist you."  Sometimes it's fine - people are happy to take other referrals or are willing to wait and call back when we might have more availability.  Other times, it just plain sucks.  "I've already called everywhere else!" they'll say.  Or, "Please, miss, can't you do something?!"  Or, my least favorite, "Are you really qualified to make that decision?" (mostly because I really want to say no, probably not).  Even worse than this sometimes is answering calls on Tuesdays from potential clients who are inquiring about whether or not their cases have been accepted.  There's no nice way to go about it.  Sure, I avoid the word rejected and almost always have a referral handy, but it's painful.  I've had people cry, scream, swear - and I'm just so, so sorry that there's not a thing I can do to make it better.  

The Perks:
BLESSINGS.  If I had a nickle for every time I am blessed by a client on the phone, soon enough I'd be rich.  Sometimes it's casual as we're hanging up - "You have a blessed day now."  Other times it's more dramatic, "God bless you, darlin'.  You done made my day.  You're just wonderful.  God bless."  Maybe it really is true - people in the midwest are just plain friendlier :)

SMILES.  I don't get to see them as often as I'd like.  It's understandable - generally if you have to have an attorney and are going through a court case, it's not the most joyous of times.  But those rare occasions when I get to see people happy because they have finally won custody of their children, or they found out they won't be evicted, or they learn that their incarcerated child or spouse or parent is going to get the legal assistance he or she needs, it's beautiful.

CO-WORKERS.  They're fabulous.  Although they are all different ages, we seem to find a way to mesh nicely.  By and large everyone in the office has been very welcoming to me and very eager to help me learn.  I can't wait to start spending some more one-on-one time with each of them to learn more about what they do to serve their clients.


That's the long and the short of it for now.  Stay tuned for more stories and experiences from work as they come!



*If you are curious about the title of this post, read the "Americorps Pledge" found here: http://www.americorps.gov/about/pledge/index.asp.  All Americorps members are required to recite it at the beginning of their term of service.  Yes, apparently this year I will "get things done for America." (I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean or who writes these things....)*

A Journey of Faith

This year is meant to be a journey of faith for all of the Amate Volunteers.  For each of us, this may mean something different.  For some, it means deepening an already existing prayer life.  For others, it may mean a search for meaning, for religion, or for spirituality.  For others still, it may mean questioning long held beliefs and exploring different paths and traditions.

Taking into account our many and varied current views on faith, religion, and spirituality, we as a house have agreed to be open minded about different pathways to God and different interpretations of religion and spirituality.  This week, we decided to travel together to St. Sabina Church just outside of the Englewood neighborhood in Chicago.  Since one of the housemates will be working with Catholic Charities at St. Sabina and 3 others will be working at a school in Englewood, we decided it might be an interesting place to start.  We had heard from some Amate alumni that it was an interesting and engaging place to go, so we were anxious to check it out for ourselves.

We made the twenty minute drive this morning and arrived in plenty of time to attend the 11:15am service.  As we walked toward and into the Church, we were greeted by many smiling faces and kind words.  Person after person greeted us with "Good Morning" and "We are so happy you are here."  No one seemed to mind that we were an awkward group of 11 white kids in a church full of hundreds of African Americans.  They genuinely took joy in welcoming us to their community and family.

As we entered the main worship area of the Church, we were greeted by this image ( I snagged this actual picture off of Google images) :

Yes, that's a gigantic painting of Jesus in the palm of God's hands.  And, yes, that's a large, neon yellow, light-up sign that says JESUS hanging from the ceiling.

The Church was huge, with upholstered pews and beautiful hand-carved artwork all over the wooden walls.  As we settled in and made friends with the people around us, we were getting excited for what we anticipated would be a fun Mass.  It was certainly lively, and at times very powerful, and most certainly it was LONG.

To spare you, I will give you the highlights.  The music was beautiful - upbeat, sung by beautiful voices, and accompanied by liturgical dancers.  The sermon was probably over an hour long, and contained a lot of talking about the devil and his bad influences.  There was a lot of "Amen" and "Yes sir" and "Go on, PREACH!"  I don't think I ever heard the Creed, the Gloria, or any other exclusively Catholic prayers, but there was an Our Father thrown in there somewhere.  There was a point where the priest called up all of the young men and blessed them, thanking God that in the previous week the neighborhood had gone one whole night without a shooting, and praying that the gang violence would come to a halt all together.  There was also a blessing for all of the young men and women heading off to college, that they would one day come back and be beacons of hope for their neighborhood.  Overall, it was a 3.5 hour long mass that was technically Catholic in nature but felt like a strong Baptist service.

While it was a great cultural experience, and a powerful reminder of the reality that many people in Englewood face, I couldn't manage to connect spiritually with the service.  I tried to open my mind and my heart, but something just wouldn't jive.  I don't regret that I went, and I can't say I won't try it again some day, but I don't think it will be my regular parish.  So, on goes the journey with an open mind and an open heart to the next faith experience.

If you want to learn more about the faith community of St. Sabina or it's super controversial/radical pastor Fr. Michael Pfleger (or as the parishioners affectionately call him, "White Boy Preacher"), check out:

http://www.saintsabina.org/  and  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Pfleger

SoHo Group Shot

Last week, one "theme day" consisted of each house showing up to orientation with a matching colored shirt.  For example, everyone in North House came dressed in white shirts.  SoHo being SoHo, we chose plaid :)

The Grocery Shopping Challenge

For Sunday, the two items on our agenda were attending Church followed by hospitality at Amate House, and the “Grocery Shopping Challenge.”

Now, you all know I love me a good Catholic Mass, and hospitality is something I’ve been raised with through both the Sisters of Mercy and the Congregation of Holy Cross.  Despite this, the morning was nothing to write home about (and yet, I am doing just that – how ironic!).  The homily was mediocre, the congregation was small and elderly, and no one came to our coffee-and hospitality.  I was mildly disappointed but certainly not crushed – I set my expectations low, and that worked to my advantage this time.

After Mass, we chatted with John Lucas, the Executive Director of Amate House and his wife, since they had dropped by to do something work-related.  Once we cleaned up our food and changed out of our “Sunday Best,” we decided to hunker down for the “Grocery Shopping Challenge.”  In our orientation binders, the Staff had outlined our first shopping trip by giving us important information, discussion questions, and tips for preparing for our first excursion.  We were given $240 to last us at least 10 days (that works out to about $2 per person per day) and a tax exempt form to present to the cashier.  

We all came into the discussion/challenge with a range of feelings, concerns, and expectations.  Ultimately, it was probably the biggest test of our ability to work as a community thus far.  We agonized over details like how many times a week we could eat meat for dinner(right now we’re working on 2), exactly how many cups of flour go into a pizza crust, how many slices of bread are in loaf (turns out its 22, not 14 like we guessed…whoops), and how many jars of spaghetti sauce correspond to pounds of pasta.  We talked back and forth over long term and short term plans, wrote (and re-wrote, and re-wrote, and re-wrote again) our shopping list, each time rearranging our priorities.  We took stretch breaks when we felt too much tension, until we finally felt ready to shop around 1:30 in the afternoon.  

Grocery shopping at Aldi with 12 people is no easy feat.  We clogged every aisle and stood waiting as two people meticulously listed and calculated our selections – one by hand and one on a calculator.  Ultimately, we did well – even better than we expected.  We got our essentials at Aldi for about $170, leaving us room to go back around the store and stock up on more staple items (and admittedly a few treats).  We left about $40 to finish our shopping at a local produce marked where we got some fresh fruits and veggies.  

When all was said and done around 4:15 in the afternoon, we all took a few hours to unwind in our rooms.  Some people napped, some listened to music, and others (like me) read a book.  We were able to gather around 7pm for dinner, refreshed from the exhausting day, free from the stresses and tensions we had been harboring earlier, and grateful for the food in our kitchen.

While it was draining, I am grateful we were able to share in this first grocery shopping experience together.  I know personally, it makes me more grateful for each thing we have to eat, and for the people in my community that will be shopping for the rest of us throughout the year.

Think about it the next time you are shopping at the store or out to eat on a restaurant – what would it be like to feed yourself or your family for this kind of budget?  You and I, we have the choice.  But for many, it is simply a harsh reality.

A Weekend of Fun for $10 or Less!

This Friday and Saturday marked the first free weekend for all of us together at Amate.  Friday night, some people chose to go out and explore the city, while others (myself included) stayed in for some R&R.  I watched the Olympics with another housemate for an hour or so, then took some alone time to read before turning in early.

Saturday morning was low-key as well.  I woke up early, took some time to enjoy the nice weather outside in the courtyard, and caught up with my friend Emily back home via a phone call.  About mid-morning a few of us took a walk to the local library (thank you Liz Boback for sending me mail – it gave me proof of address for my new library card!) and explored the neighborhood a bit. 

This may seem a bit hum-drum so far, but I promise it was fun, and it get s more exciting.  After a light lunch, a group of us decided to head into the city.  I purchased a day pass (or a “Fun Pass” as it is officially called) for the CTA at Walgreens for $5.75 which would give me unlimited use of the L for 24 hours.  Our first adventure was an L ride and a 20 minute walk to Pilsen, another Chicago neighborhood, to visit the We Are Hip Hop festival.  Although the group of 6 or 7 of us looked and felt a bit out of place, it was a cool (and free!) cultural experience.  We heard a local hip hop artist perform an original work, observed a 10-canvas-wide graffiti competition, and even saw some local neighborhood kids show off their break dancing and circus-trick-performing skills.  

After the Hip Hop festival, we boarded the L to make our next plan.  Our group split in half, with some going off to explore millennium park and the rest (myself included) riding up toward the North to visit Edgefest in Edgewater, Chicago.  Edgefest, also affectionately known as “Bacon Fest,” is an annual festival held in a ritzy-ish neighborhood and is comprised of different art vendors, bands, and local food vendors.  By the time we arrived, it was clear that a storm was brewing.  We had heard talk on the train that Lollapalooza had been evacuated and everyone was being encouraged to take cover.  Fearlessly, we defied the warnings and carried on, determined to find out for ourselves what Bacon Fest was all about.  After a little haggling at the entrance booth, we each offered a $1 donation to enter, and quickly spun through the different booths before the owners closed up shop for the storm.  We even each snagged ourselves a bacon donut (don’t knock it til you try it) for the low, low price of $2.  We stayed long enough for the cover band to play a few hits before heading back toward the L.  As we were leaving the festival, the downpour started and we bolted down the street.  We decided to try riding for only a few stops since the lighting and rain were intense, hoping to seek refuge at North House until the storm cleared.  As we departed at the Sheridan stop, we ran down the steps toward the street only to find the station was completely flooded.  With our spirits down and shoes soaked to the bone, we trudged through until (ta-da!) we serendipitously ran into the other members of our house.  Yes, somehow even though all 12 of us had been in different places and out of communication all day, we ended up in the same place at the exact same time.  Since we were all together and it was nearing dinner time, we decided to just tough it out and head back to South House.

After a relatively uneventful ride home, we were lucky that the rain stopped before we departed our train and walked the few blocks home.  After our long day of adventuring, we decided to cook a light dinner and settle in for a movie before going to bed.

All in all, an eventful and exciting Saturday all for a grand total  of $8.75.  Not too shabby, Chicago.

When in Doubt, Wobble

(Apologies for the delay in posting these entries, but I haven’t been using the internet much!)

Thursday was quite the interesting night.

It was around 8:30 or 9pm and we were all in the basement living room preparing for the following day’s orientation session – a day at a low ropes course with an Olympic-based dress code – by making paper marathon bibs, gold medals, and various headbands and arm bands.  We ran out of paper, so I offered to walk upstairs and grab some more from a craft bin in the upstairs living room.  I came upstairs, flipped on the lights in the room, and began walking toward our shelves in front of the window.  As I bent down, I suddenly heard a loud BANG that sounded as if it were only a few feet away from our house.  I dropped to the ground in complete terror (NOTE: We live in a relatively safe neighborhood, I swear!  We are all just a bit jumpy after being pranked by our house coordinator and after another Amate House was robbed in a different neighborhood).  After my gut panic, I told myself I was being silly and it was probably a neighbor setting off fireworks.  I started to stand back up and BOOM another loud sound.  I grabbed paper and ran to the basement, where I was greeted by sheer panic on half my housemates’ faces.  We heard several more bangs, some sounding like they were right outside the house.  We debated if they were a genuine danger or not, all yelling to defend our opinions.  We decided to band together and check all the locks around the house.  As we heard some more bangs, we also saw bright lights outside the window.  After a thorough check of all doors and windows, we decided it was probably kids playing with firecrackers, and that perhaps they had thrown some over our fence and into our garden.  

Still on edge, we felt uneasy returning to the basement.  In a swift motion, one housemate grabbed her iPod and speakers and turned on “The Wobble.”  Evidently this is a hip new dance song I had never heard, but one I am now incredibly grateful for.  She cranked the volume and began teaching us the moves, and before we knew it we were all dancing (wobbling?) like fools around the living room, sweating in the heat and melting away the fears we had held just moments before.

The dance party lasted close to an hour and consisted of pop hits, 90s classics, and anything in between.  We danced, we laughed, we shouted at the tops of our lungs.  Not only had we relaxed a bit from the jumpiness after the firecrackers/”gunshots”, but we were also letting loose and allowing our sillier sides to show.  The same housemate that I had felt frustrated with earlier in the night had come to the rescue of all of us, and I had a new appreciation for the different strengths and skills different people might offer our community in the coming year.  I could not have been the brave one to start a dance party and distract everyone from their jitters in a new city, but I am very grateful that someone else was.  I can hardly wait to see what unique opportunities will arise to allow other people’s strengths to shine through. 

In conclusion, the new life lesson I have drawn from all of this is when in doubt, Wobble.