30.b4.30 - the kill order

i've been telling everyone about the maze runner series for about a year now. i was looking for something to read after the hunger games, and my middle school lit teacher best friend suggested it. i read the first book in two days. the next two books of the series were finished shortly thereafter. then, there was talk of a fourth book: the kill order, a prequel to the trilogy. i had to read it.

but i didn't. not right away, at least. instead, i put it on my christmas wish list.

everyone around me was reading it. all these people i had sold the idea of this fabulous book series to were reading ahead of me and i was left behind.

so after months of hushing friends before they ruined the secrets of the book, i gave in. i went online and reserved a copy at the library. two days before leaving indy for christmas holiday, i picked it up. two days into my christmas holiday in ohio, i finished the book.

it was STUNNING. it was bloody and nasty and thrilling and mysterious and everything i expected it to be. it answered the questions the trilogy had left wide open and it left me with a sense of closure the last had left me wanting.

i was blissfully content.

until today, when i unwrapped a gift from my parents: the kill order. it was on my list, and they were devastated when they saw me reading it when i arrived to town. i thanked them and explained that i owned the other books, so it would be nice to add this one to the collection, even if i had already read it.

then i noticed that the cover said that this edition of the book had "barnes and noble exclusive" top secrets from WICKED (that's an organization in the book - if you read it, you'll know what it is). i quickly turned to the back and found an extra chapter. a short chapter, revealing one last secret. answering one last question. coloring the characters that much brighter. telling the story that much fuller.

i am content with my life. i find happiness every day. and every day i feel loved. but sometimes i wonder...what if a better life is out there waiting for me? what if i've settled for something less than i could be? what if there is a different edition of my life's story, with a "barnes and noble exclusive" extra chapter...revealing another secret, answering another question, coloring brighter characters, telling a fuller story?

maybe i've settled for the library loaner life, but i guess you could say that the exclusive edition is still on my wish list.

family dinners

last night, i introduced my friend katie to some of my oldest and dearest friends at a monthly family dinner tradition. she was skeptical, to say the least. she always has been. how could i still be friends with the same people i sat next to in grade school? there's no way that people maintain solid friendships over so many years, across such distances and amidst varying life stages?

last night she was proven wrong.

these people are not just old friends. they are friends of today too.

it was almost surreal, seeing two of my worlds come together so quietly. friends who have been a part of my life for as long as i can remember and have stuck with me, despite it all, and katie, who was my friend and roommate and it's safe to say that we saved each other through two pretty traumatic events that solidified our friendship as one for a lifetime. i think i was simply observing the conversational dance that played out throughout the evening.

my grateful heart also took time to recognize just how blessed i am to have friends around that table and elsewhere who have found such incredible partners in their spouses. they married only one, but they got the friends as bonuses. they are men and women who have embraced me and welcomed me into their lives as well.

heck, one friend's husband called me a couple of weeks ago to get my thoughts on his big family present for this christmas. he has welcomed me at family dinners, surprised his wife with weekend getaways with me and has even invited me to join their family vacations. he's more than just my friend's husband. he's become my friend too. i don't know that i can ever express just how thankful i am that she found such a man who loves her so incredibly AND a man who accepts my crazy friendship as part of the packaged deal.

then tonight, as i was sitting down to dinner at my grandma's, i got the phone call that i knew was coming. another dear friend is now engaged to be married. and i am thrilled to say that he is a man who not only values her and loves her and challenges her and accepts her and builds her up and brings out the best in her, he also values her friendship with me and allows us to be our silly selves whenever i am in town. i look forward to the family dinners i will have with the two of them as they start their married life.

i am blessed. far more than i could ever put into words on a page. blessed with beautiful lifelong friends. and blessed with the new friendships i have found in the men and women my friends have chosen to spend their lives with.

and to the gentleman who is now engaged to one of my dearest: welcome to the family :)

right in front of his eyes

mom wanted to try an enticing new recipe for marmalade glazed carrots for thanksgiving this year and i was put in charge of cutting the carrots. pete anxiously sat next to me as i cut carrot after carrot.

as i worked at the cutting board on the counter, a carrot fell to the ground. pete didn't notice. he was zeroed in on the pile of cut carrots on the cutting board.

so i tried getting his attention by saying his name. "pete." "pete!" "PETE!"
he didn't even blink.

then i tried pointing at the carrot with my toe (my hands were busy with the knife and carrots). you can imagine a lazy ballerina practicing her battement tendus.
he did nothing.

finally i tried giving him a little nudge with my foot. even mom tried coaxing him to the carrot. still, he wouldn't break his gaze on the mound of carrots that were out of his reach on the counter.

he was so focused on the pile that would never be his, that he didn't notice the little piece of heaven just under his nose.

i'm like that too sometimes.

are you? what happiness is right in front of your eyes that you've been missing?

grace

"for meat and drink, we thank Thee Lord
who stand round this fraternal board.
grant that our sisters everywhere
in Thy full grace and bounty share."
~ the alpha gamma delta grace

oftentimes, when we speak of "grace" we are talking about the undeserved forgiving love one has for another. the grace we say before a meal is different. it has been shortened from the word "graces", which is from the latin "gratiarum actio" or the italian "grazie", meaning thanksgiving or thanks.

the history of saying grace goes far back into history. for christians, we see Christ model breaking bread and giving thanks for it before partaking (acts 27:35) and are reminded of this every time the bread is broken as we celebrate holy communion.

saying grace before a meal, then, is a reminder of communion. communion not only with our Creator, but with each other. and when we sing the alpha gam grace, we break bread together as sisters and we thank our Awesome Parent for all who gathered around the table.

it's important to note, that we don't only thank God for those who are with us, but we also ask the Almighty to care for our sisters everywhere. we ask that grace - that undeserved, forgiving, unconditional, sacrificial love - wash over each sister, that they may never go hungry for nourishment of the body or the soul.

tonight, i pray the alpha gamma delta grace. over and over again. that each sister may know the love of their sisters and the love of the Wonderful One.

a tale of five cities

i've written a lot about charlotte. about how it became home over the years. about how the people there are my family. about how much i miss it sometimes.

as i drove away from the city this morning, i wondered....will i ever feel the way about another place and another people, the way i did about charlotte?

of course i will. because i've lived several places in my life, and each city holds a special place in my heart.

my love for coshocton seems to grow, more and more, as the years go by. i may have dogged the place as a teenager, but it's home. the people are constant and the welcome is eternal.

buckhannon was the first place i ever felt free. i made a lot of stupid decisions, but i lived with abandon.

lewisburg was my training ground. could i be an adult? could i live on my own? could i make it in the professional world? was ministry really for me? lewisburg taught me how not to lose myself in adulthood.

charlotte was like college, round two. i made a lot of stupid decisions, and i loved with abandon.

and then there was misenheimer. it's hard to separate the village from the college. similarly, it's hard to separate my personal life from my professional life. this is where the lines began to blur and my role as a workaholic was birthed.

now, indianapolis. the cross roads of america. where i feel like i am at a cross road in my life. i'm not sure exactly where i'm headed, but i feel like my next few years in indianapolis are going to be important ones. something big is on the horizon - i can feel it. can you?

walking on broken glass

loading the dishwasher. that's when it happened. again. (the third time in the past week.)

i reached down and pulled a small shard of glass out of my foot. this one was really in there. it stung as i pulled it out and immediately began bleeding. i hobbled over to the bathroom to get a bandaid and now i can barely tell that anything happened at all.

a little over a week ago, i left a glass of water on the kitchen counter. big mistake. as can be expected, mr. darcy kicked it off of the counter and it shattered on the floor.

i don't think that i saw it for two days. i was so busy, that i simply didn't notice. luckily, when i finally did walk into the kitchen i was wearing sneakers. i heard the glass crunch beneath my foot and i froze, looked down and started cleaning up the mess.

it was easy to pick up the large chunks with my fingers. it's the tiny pieces that cause trouble. no matter how many times i swept the floor, there always seemed to be more. until finally there wasn't, and i thought the floor was clear.

and yet, i keep finding tiny shards of glass in my feet. it doesn't happen every day. and it won't happen forever. but it hurts when it does...

this is what happens when things shatter. the broken pieces seem to surprise by tearing into you time and time again, until you've found every single one and cleared them away.

permission granted

"i just don't feel like i have the right to be sad about this," a friend said to me today. the very moment the words escaped her lips, my heart sank.

how often do we limit ourselves like this? we don't allow ourselves to feel certain emotions because we think that it wouldn't be allowed or that we couldn't handle it. we don't allow ourselves fully experience the utter joy in a moment because we are waiting for the other shoe to drop. we don't allow ourselves to feel pain and loss over a death, because we weren't as close to him as others were.

we create these arbitrary rules for what is allowed and what simply is not okay.
key word = arbitrary.

here is what i wish to say to everyone out there who is struggling with their emotions right now:

you have permission to feel whatever it is that you are feeling. 

you really can't control your feelings. so go ahead - be sad, be betrayed, be joyful, be confused, be conflicted, be anything that you are feeling because if you are having to tell yourself that you are not allowed to feel these things, well, you're most likely already feeling them anyway.

hidden harm

shortly after i adopted pete, he underwent surgery to remove a lump on his side.

well, it was a lump originally. i first noticed it within days of bringing him home. it was as small as a bug bite and the vet said not to worry about it.

but it grew. and grew. and grew. until it was as large as a silver dollar.

then pete bit it and left a crater instead of a lump. so the vet cut all around the sore and sewed him back up.

he looked pretty brutal for a while. it made me cringe, just to look at it. when i would accidentally touch the stitches my entire body shivered with disgust. sure, i was disgusted. but he was mine. and i loved him. and i would have done anything to make him feel better.

today, you would barely know that he ever had those red stitches lining up along his side. he has a long scar, but his fur covers it up. unless you really pay attention, you'd never notice that some of the dark spots don't line up just right. you'd never know that he ever had surgery. you'd never know that he was ever hurt.


this past weekend a friend of mine facilitated a workshop with some college students. the workshop is designed to make them aware of how their decisions effect those around them. during a section on hidden harm, the unthinkable happened.

some of you will know what the buzz phrase "hidden harm" means, but for those of you who do not...here we go. hidden harm is the risk of everything you don't know. in the world of student development, it refers to the unknown history of a student's life.

during this workshop, the students are given scenarios to discuss. each scenario presents a student who is asked to do something that triggers something from their past that they'd rather not remember. in the middle of this activity, while talking about activities that may cause a student who was abused as a child to relive or at least recount those painful memories, like i said - the unthinkable happened.

the students laughed.
they LAUGHED.
they laughed at child abuse.

when my friend told me about this, i couldn't decide if i wanted to cry or if i wanted to vomit.

my disappointment in these students is more tremendous then i could ever put into words.

each of us have history. bags that we carry of varying weight. some days the bags may be more than our tired arms can stand. some days the bags are so light that we forget that they're even there. but we carry them. and like pete's scar, other people can't see it. we've covered up the scars with designer clothes or sarcastic humor.

maybe we've covered it up, but like pete, if you look closely you'll see that something just doesn't line up quite right.

30.B4.30 - published

i kicked off my 29th year by cleaning my house, jump starting a healthier lifestyle, reading some books that have been sitting on the shelves for years and, oh yeah, getting published.

the first few weeks since my birthday have been filled with good intentions. so good, in fact, that i've been able to make some progress on my 30 before 30 list:

a. i've lost 3 pounds. (that's 1/10 of the way to my first goal.)

b. i am halfway through one of the unread books on my shelf.

c. i bought lauren winner's "still: notes on a mid-faith crisis" (i haven't even made it through the preface, but i'm LOVING it.)

d. my writing has been published in a national publication.

what you don't know, is that i have actually been published before. once. when i was in high school. a poem. it's in some book. i don't remember the name. basically, it's a book that publishes a bunch of people's work, then tries to sell you incredibly overpriced copies. and you buy it, because you're 14 and your words on printed on the pages inside. then you never look at it and 15 years go by and you find yourself forgetting that you were ever a writer before now.

ah, life.


so, a while back i wrote about my hazing experiences. and that went a bit viral, i suppose. people i didn't know were writing me because they connected with my story. eventually word spread to the folks at hazingprevention.org and they asked if i would rewrite the blogs as an article to be included in the 2012 national hazing prevention week resource guide, which colleges and universities reference when planning nhpw events. of course, i said that i would. and i did.

they changed the title, though. i wonder if that's because "i am a product of hazing" sounded like i was proud of it or something. i'm not sure. anyway, you can check it out on their website. (it's toward the bottom. you have to register, but it's free)

30 things to do before i'm 30

at 26, the list was best memories.
at 27, favorite gifts.
at 28, my most influential mentors.
at 29, i'm doing things a little bit differently. this year, i've made a list of the 30 things i'd like to accomplish before my 30th birthday.

the list may not be what you might have expected from me. you're used to seeing a list of items, explained at great length. this year, you'll see a simple list with no further detail. the explanations will come throughout the year.

some of the items may seem trivial to you, but please be patient with me. each item on this list has significance, although you may not see it at face value. as i journal my attempts at completing this list throughout the year, i hope you will see that even the smallest of tasks can be a huge achievement. 

the biggest thing i may need to remind myself of, though, is that it's not failure if i tried. there are some things on this list that despite my strongest efforts, i may never accomplish. i mean, heck, i've tried learning how to play the guitar too many times to count. the bottom line is trying. really trying. and i have to be able to forgive myself if i don't succeed. the list is a guide. it is a reminder that every year is a chance to start over. that every year is an opportunity to be the person i've always wanted to be. but i don't have to be a slave to the list. i must give myself some grace when things don't go as i had hoped or expected. who knows, maybe some of the easiest things on the list will become the most difficult to accomplish. there will be a lesson in everything. even in (maybe especially in) not being able to cross something off..

without further ado, and in no particular order, here is my list of 30 things to do before i'm 30:

1) learn to play the guitar (or at least give it a good honest try, for the fifth time)

2) visit friends scattered along the pacific

3) paint something and hang it in my home

4) read an auto/biography

5) share a first kiss with someone actually worth a second and third

6) purchase a tv

7) learn to make sushi

8) read the 4th book in the maze runner series (don't judge me)

9) find pete an indy puppy playmate

10) lose 30 pounds

11) take a real vacation (not visit friends or family)

12) go to an over the rhine concert

13) serve my community through a fundraiser or project

14) finish the afghan i began knitting in 2005

15) learn how to clip pete's nails

16) see the west coast

17) find curtains for my living room

18) buy pencils and crack open my old sketch book

19) complete my map art project

20) see sydney play volleyball

21) read lauren winner's "still: notes on a mid-faith crisis"

22) spend time with the entire havelka family together

23) redecorate my bedroom

24) join something - a gym, a class, a small group - anything.

25) make sure the people i love know it

26) get published

27) pick a recipe book and try all of the recipes

28) read all of the unread books on my shelves

29) allow space for the unexpected

30) journal about these 30 things and my attempts to succeed

on repeat

the song has been on repeat for days. i haven't listened to the record in over a year, but this week it has been running through my head like a prayer.

"when you're lost then you're found, then you're found then you're lost...just remember, you're coming home to Me."

i've been in my head a lot lately. analyzing everything. questioning it all. wondering who the heck i am anymore and where i might be headed.

i feel like my life has been so stagnant for so long. but, didn't i move to a new city in the past year? didn't i start a new job? didn't i join a new church? haven't i made new friends? haven't i traveled to cities i'd never seen before?

a lot has happened this year, and yet i'm approaching a birthday feeling like i'm the same person i was a year ago. that i haven't grown. that, sadly, i may have even regressed.

i've learned a lot through my new job, but i don't know that i've learned anything new about myself in the past year. it's time to learn who i am and what exactly i'm capable of.

"when you get there you'll see you were already free."

raw

pete's chest is a dark blood red and his armpits are raw.

(for those of you new to this blog, pete is my dog. he's an adorable 65 pound american bulldog, boxer, pitbull mix.)

it was an intentional decision, when i adopted pete a couple of years ago. he was clearly a dog's dog. he was playful and strong and sweet and brave. he was my kind of dog.

he wasn't one of those frilly little things that people carry in purses and he certainly wasn't high maintenance.

...or so i thought.

he's allergic to grass, highly sensitive to the heat, and for added measure, he's a mama's boy.

yup, that's my dog.

tonight, he is showing the signs of his suffering in the heat these past few days have given us.

he's in pain and nothing i am doing for him seems to help. i delayed his run until the evening when the late night breeze set sail and the sun wasn't blazing hot. i gave him ice cubes to eat and held my cold, wet, post-ice-holding hands to his chest and under his arms, knowing that those are the places that are most affected.

and yet, his skin is revolting.

i give him claritin daily, but tonight it seems that we are headed into our yearly round of a steroids and antibiotics. i even have hot spot spray with hydrocortisone and benedryl cream to rub on the wounds. ...if only he'd stay still long enough for the medicine to help.

a few weeks ago i was having a conversation with my friend brad, when i broke my guy's girl persona and shared something really personal. i imagine it was like looking at pete's raw skin tonight.

i pride myself in being a low-maintenance type of girl. i don't ask a lot. i'm not frilly or jealous or demanding or materialistic. i'm playful and strong and sweet and brave.

but underneath, you'll find that i'm just like anyone else. that i want to be accepted. that i want to be loved.

and sometimes, sometimes when i'm forgotten or rejected or hurt by the ones i love i am left blood red and raw, burning from the inside out.

but seasons change and wounds heal. and thankfully the blazing sun doesn't burn like this all year long. perhaps pete and i can heal together.

i am a product of hazing, part two

i am a product of hazing.

i saw the grass on both sides of the fence, and neither side was green. clearly the hazed are victims of hazing culture, but sometimes so are the hazers.

in part one i shared about my experiences as a rookie, a newbie, a pledge and the insecurities i faced around proving myself and the pressure of building a community around me. those same insecurities led both to my being hazed and to my becoming a hazer.

when i was given the opportunity to welcome a little sister to the sorority, i made no connection between my own fear of exclusion and her participation in the very same hazing activities. i was so focused on myself and my own fear of exclusion that i simply didn't have the capacity to worry about her fears too.

i didn't protect her like i should have. like someone should have protected me.

it's taken me some time to process everything intellectually digested earlier this month at the novak institute for hazing prevention. mostly, it made me want to tell my story...

we often talk about those hazed as the victims of hazing, but they aren't the only victims. sure, there are some sociopaths out there who truly enjoy being the hazers. but i would argue (even though i have no data to back up my claims) that the majority of hazers would quit if someone would simply stand up to say "enough is enough".

i imagine that most hazers are like i was - simply doing what everyone else was doing. if my friends were hazing their little sisters, then i should be too - right? if my friends were laughing at the pranks, then i should be too - right? wrong. but i was too weak to stand up to it.

heck, i was so self-absorbed that i don't know that i ever knew what we were doing was wrong. remember - it was all done in jest and no one was holding a gun to anyone's head. certainly we weren't hazing.

but we were. i know that now. and you know what, i think on some level - conscious or not - i knew it then too. because i kept it a secret. and you don't keep secret anything that is good and pure.

here's where i start to answer some of the questions i'm sure you're asking yourselves:

1. where were the adults? where were the people who were mature enough to know that what we were doing was wrong and help us change our ways?

our advisors were very much in the dark, or so i have to assume. they are all such incredible women who truly embody the values of the organization. they are bright, loving, intelligent, caring, simply incredible women who have the best intentions for our chapter and the organization as a whole. i believe that if they knew what was going on then they would have brought an end to it immediately. (unlike the 25% of students who report coaches/advisors being present for hazing activities and 25% who report alumni being present.)

as for the faculty and staff. well, when you want to keep something a secret you can do a pretty good job of it. and we knew how to keep secrets. that's what fraternities and sororities are supposed to do, right? we keep secrets. (although according to a national study, 25% of hazing activities occur in public spaces right on campus.) clearly my view of fraternity/sorority was warped if i thought that keeping secrets was one of the main characteristics of the organization. 

if you would have asked staff or faculty about my chapter, i'm sure they would have shared that we were leaders on campus, top in grades, involved in a variety of campus activities and other organizations. they would have told you that we embodied the values of our fraternity. because in so much that we did, we really did represent what fraternity is supposed to be about.

besides, although west virginia's anti-hazing law went into effect in 1995, hazing wasn't as much of a hot topic as it is today. it was still very much accepted as a common practice for welcoming new members to any organization (fraternal or other). in my unscientific opinion, if you look at the history of large hazing cases, 2004 is when they really start rolling in and when the public starts to really pay attention.

2. weren't you a christian education major in college?

ironically, yes, i was majoring in christian ed throughout this entire time. during the day i studied religious texts and crafted delicate prayers. then in the evenings i participated in hazing activities.

i will never forget my senior year, when i was chosen to perform a highly revered act of scaring the new members just before initiation. in years past, (like my pledge semester) seniors would come back to the room where new members waited to be initiated to yell and scream at them with fierce rage. i chose another approach. i somberly expressed my outright disappointment in them as a pledge class and that we weren't quite sure that they were ready to be initiated. (although we didn't have a name for it, i've heard other organizations call this the "fake out".) basically the point was to make the new members think that they had done something so wrong that they would no longer be initiated (my pledge class had a motto: "it's all fun and games until someone doesn't get initiated.") then surprise them with going through with initiation and showing them that it was all just a silly joke.

fast forward a few years and you will find me as a university student development professional in my office with a student who is beside himself because i told him that i was disappointed by his actions. you know where my mind took me in that moment? to that pre-initiation conversation my senior year of college. i was right - quietly expressing disappointment is more effective than outright rage any day. i was right, but i wasn't proud of it.

just like i'm not proud of the fact that i could so easily compartmentalize my life in college. it's not that i was ever faking who i was, i simply viewed each part of my life completely independently. i never saw the correlation between the ideals of my faith and the values of my fraternity. or at least, i never saw them in the same way when it came to how i treated new members. i would have screamed blasphemy if someone were to ruin the sanctity of worship the way i ruined the sanctity of that initiation ceremony so many years ago.

all of this to say - i have no excuse for the dichotomy between my academic studies and those particular fraternity activities. i can offer nothing but a sincere apology. because i am truly sorry.

3. which is worse: being hazed or becoming the hazer?

i wouldn't dare answer this question for anyone other than myself, but for me becoming the hazer has had more persistent effects than being hazed.

i shared some of the ways that being hazed continues to affect me in part one. more than my insecurities around new situations or missing out, though, is the guilt and the shame of having hazed others. it isn't who i am. it isn't what i believe in. it isn't who i believe my fraternity to be.

because she deserves better.
those new members deserved better.
lastly, i deserved better.

the values of my fraternity center around sisterhood, scholarship and service. we are there for one another. we value well-rounded womanhood. we are values driven. we inspire the woman. we are impacting the world. what did any of those hazing activities have to do with the values of the organization? they didn't. i believe in those values of my fraternity. i only wish my actions proved that.

in my work with college students over the years, i once talked with a woman who explained the following new member activity to me: she described an evening where new members knelt in a line, blindfolded, as seniors and alumni yelled and screamed at them and other members stomped on the floor and beat the walls for added effect. all of this build up was for a special surprise. once the yelling was over, she felt fabric covering her head and she pictured what she had heard in the news and seen in movies where bags are placed over new members' faces and they are beaten. luckily, about ten seconds later she and her friends were allowed to take off their blindfolds only to realize that the fabric being placed over their faces were their first official t-shirts for the organization. as the members in the room clapped and cheered, she couldn't help but feel relief and laugh at herself for being so scared.

my response: "but those ten seconds matter."

i think about the hazing i endured and the hazing i dealt out. i never thought about those ten seconds. did anyone think about how the women felt when we stuck them in the trunks of cars or the emotional damage it would do to someone with claustrophobia? did anyone think about how the women felt when we took them to fraternity houses to be mocked by men twice their size or how it might injure someone who has experienced abuse either first hand or in watching their parents? did anyone think about how the women felt when we encouraged them to steal items from pledge brothers and fraternity houses or how it might feed the addiction of a kleptomaniac? we didn't. or if we did, we didn't say anything. and if we said anything, we didn't say it loud enough.

those ten seconds matter.

today, i pray for the women i hazed to forgive me. today, i seek forgiveness of myself. today, i work to ensure that no student ever has to experience the lifelong repercussions of being the hazed or the hazer.

because i believe in the power of fraternity to change lives. i believe that fraternity can be the perfect catalyst for incredible creativity, powerful thinking and transformational leadership. i believe in the fraternal movement and hazing has no place in the movement i stand for.

i am a product of hazing.
and i aim to help put an end to it.

i am a product of hazing, part one

i am a product of hazing.

i am a product of many other things too, but part of what has shaped the woman i continue to become was an experience of complete immersion into a hazing culture during my collegiate years.

one of my good friends and i were talking about it the other day. as i shared my story, she became physically agitated at the thought of members of her (our) sorority treating new members with such disrespect. she couldn't understand how i, an educated and logical woman, could have accepted that behavior and endured such new member activities.

i recount memories of women bound and locked in car trunks for hours, delivering breakfast in bed to sisters all across campus at 6am, dog cages and leashes, stupid plastic spider rings, blindfolded trust walks on river docks, ice cream sundaes built on the heads of sorority women on their knees and rotten food fights with fraternity men. some of those memories are of my new member period and some are what i allowed to happen to others during theirs.

for many years, i never thought of my experience as hazing. i only thought about the close friendships that were created around that time and the funny inside jokes my sisters and i still share when we gather together.

it wasn't that bad anyway, right? my experience was nothing like what you see in the movies. it was all in jest. i was never forced to do anything i didn't want to do. even my pledgemaster was a softy! so soft, in fact, that i heard once that she was almost not elected to the position because sisters worried that she would be too nice.. besides, i had a great big sister who always gave me the permission to skip out on events i didn't want to do.

i did that once. i skipped a pledge activity.

my big sis warned me that we would be "playing" a fraternity that night. playing meant that the men had somehow stolen something from us and we had to "play" to get it back. i can't remember what it was that night, but the usual scenario was that a pledge brother had stolen a lettered t-shirt from one of my pledge sisters. in order to earn the return of our property, we had to play. knowing that i wasn't exactly thrilled about playing, my big wanted to give me the heads up so i wouldn't be surprised. we would be playing a fraternity who was known for making pledge sisters sit in a circle while the pledge brothers built ice cream sundaes on their heads. this wasn't too appealing to me, so my big made an excuse for me missing.

you know what happened?

i felt guilty.
initiated sisters didn't care. my pledge sisters barely noticed.
but i felt guilty.

the pressure to feel included with my pledge class was too high. they came back that night with new inside stories that i couldn't share in. i had missed out...

i made sure never to miss another event. the idea that i wouldn't have equal opportunity to meet the other women and build those bonds was too devastating. the idea that i might miss out on an opportunity to show my sisters and the fraternity brothers we "played" with that i could roll with the punches and laugh it off, that i could somehow prove myself...well, my pride and my need for acceptance was too great.

so i went. again and again. i continually made the choice to participate. i played every time. i went to every party. i drank every drink that was handed to me. i walked that signature book to every initiated sister. i did everything the sisters asked of me and more.

as i said earlier, if you would have asked me if i was being hazed at the time, well, i would have said no. (then again, 90% of students reporting having experienced hazing behavior do not classify it as such.)

because i made the choice. every time. i chose to participate. no one physically forced me. no one was holding a gun to my head. no one threatened me with a consequence if i didn't participate.

it was always my choice.
or was it?

as an adult, i now recognize that my choice wasn't really a choice at all. it isn't free will if there are consequences, whether perceived or real. although my pledgemaster never threatened me with repercussions for not participating, past experience told me that if i said no, if i was absent, if i walked away that i would be left with no one. the fraternity men would make fun of me and the sisters would whisper behind my back. i'd seen it before. i wouldn't let it happen to me.

unfortunately, college wasn't my first time experiencing hazing. (in fact, 47% of students experience hazing before college.) first were the line ups during my first marching band camp in middle school and watching a friend get pulled backwards up a hill by a lanyard around his neck. second, the new "friends" who put shaving cream in my hair while i slept at a birthday slumber party. i knew and they knew that it wasn't a simple joke. i was the outsider. i was the one they had invited just to humiliate. even though i endured their tricks all night, though, i was never invited over again.

i watched what happened to the girl at band camp who told her parents about what had been done to her. (which is brave, unlike 95% of students who identify hazing behavior never report it.) heck, for fear of looking like a loser, i even joined in when people made fun of her behind her back. i agreed when people said that she was overreacting to a simple joke.

but simple jokes aren't just simple jokes sometimes. sometimes they spark memories of a past experience we'd rather forget. sometimes they trigger an unconscious mental or physical reaction that strikes us with a fear so deep it's hard to describe. sometimes they tap into the insecurities we hide in the very core of our beings.

today, i can track some of my irrational fears back to those hazing incidents.

like my fear of the unknown. i'm not talking about an unknown future career or family. i'm talking about this irrational insecurity i have about meeting new friends for lunch or attending conferences i've never attended before. am i wearing something appropriate? what if i look out of place? will i say the right things? why haven't they sent me a detailed agenda? it's not that i have a fear that i will be hazed at the conference. i'm not afraid of hazing anymore. i'm simply afraid of not being completely prepared for whatever i'm walking into.

or like my fear of missing out, or fomo as a co-worker taught me recently. i will over-schedule my life, traveling all over the country for events with friends as often as i can because i am so afraid that i'll miss out on some incredible experience with them and that they will move on without me. it's hard for me to talk with friends from charlotte or to visit columbus and find that everyone has inside jokes and shared experiences that i've missed out on.

now, these may seem trivial to you and they certainly aren't so prevalent in my life that i'm paralyzed with fear. but they are rooted in deeply-seeded personal insecurities that were, if not birthed out of, surely cultivated through the hazing activities i was involved in throughout my life.


stay tuned for part two, including answers to what i am sure you would ask, if i went to the floor for questions:
   - where were your advisors/staff/professors/campus administrators while this was happening? 
   - weren't you a christian education major, of all things, during this time?
   - which is worse: being hazed or becoming the hazer?

perpetuated hate

like cathleen falsani, i'm tired of apologizing.

not for my faith, but for the hateful things other people say in the name of the One i call Creator.

i see videos like this and i want to vomit. i watch them go viral via social media and it infuriates me. i want to scream at the top of my lungs, "we're not all like that!!!" heck, i would argue that an overwhelming majority of us don't support that kind of behavior or belief.

and we all don't do the whole "hate the sin, love the sinner" or the "God loves you and so do i, but you need to change who you are in order to join us in heaven one day" crap either. that's just passive aggressive prejudice. that's maybe even worse in my opinion than the outright hate speech.

but that doesn't make the hate speech any less hurtful.

tonight i found myself in tears after watching this video of a pastor telling his congregation that my lesbian sisters and gay brothers should be put into areas surrounded by electrical fences so they could die out over time.

i am so tired of hearing certain christians use any scriptural argument to justify their prejudice against the LBGT community, but the absolute worst is the pro-creation case (like that particular pastor was using) to "be fruitful and multiply" (gen 1.28).

for those of you who do not know, when i was in college a doctor informed me that my chances of having children are less than ideal. a lot less. as in, probably not happening.

now, i don't pretend to have any clue what my friends experience when they hear/see/feel other people emotionally (or physically, i've been the shoulder to cry on through those personal stories too) spit on them because of their sexual or gender identity. what i do understand, though, is the heart stopping humiliation that occurs when you hear a pastor tell you that you are worthless - to society, to creation, to God - because of how God made you.

i didn't choose it. i didn't have a traumatic experience that caused me to rebel. this wasn't a result of my family environment or my parents' child-rearing skills or any of the other reasons ignorant people make for homosexuality, the most infamous reason for couples not pro-creating.

God made me this way. and yet some folks say that i am of no worth to God and that there is no use in my loving another person because it will never result in the birth of a child. (although they would never say that to me or to the elderly couple in the third pew who just recently married last month, they only say it to my homosexual friends.)

you and i both know that there are millions of orphans in the world, desperately in need of a loving family to call their own. one day, perhaps, my husband i will bring that growing number down by one or two, but i ask  the people with the pro-creation argument against homosexuality - what makes us any different from gay or lesbian couples?


if you haven't seen lisa ling's show "our america: pray the gay away?", it is a really interesting watch. the show highlights christian movements founded on the belief that lesbian women and gay men should suppress those "urges" and live a heterosexual life - organizations like exodus international. the show also highlights christian movements founded on the principle of giving gay and lesbian christians space to be authentically both christian and gay or lesbian - organizations like the naming project.

in her interview on the view, lisa ling makes the comment: "[gay and lesbian christians] are condemned by the church (for being gay) and they're also condemned by a lot of gay people for being christian...but they are not condemned by God."

and i wept.

because this isn't how it's supposed to be. i can't imagine that this is what God intended for creation, for the people called "beloved".

people from both sides ostracize each other. they put each other in small-minded glass houses.

both perpetuate the hate.

i'm sure they have their reasons. and i'm sure they are seemingly sensible, always deeply personal reasons too. gay men who have been called filthy by people of the church. christians who feel called to proselytize their understanding of the "right" interpretation of scripture.

christians have the privileged majority, or at least they have the louder voice and vote (as evidenced recently in north carolina). so christians must be the first to step up to stop the hate, to forgive and ask forgiveness. those in privilege always have to be the first to surrender their power.

unfortunately, the hate cycle will continue even long after our government and our churches finally see the light though. because the hurt caused by hatred on both sides runs deep into the core of our beings. and that hurt takes time to heal. this is something our grandchildren will still be dealing with, just like our generation is still dealing with racism.

all this said, i continue to stick with the church, because i believe it will change. because i believe people will change. because i aim to be part of that change. i stick with the church because i believe that one day we will actually be the church Jesus envisioned so many years ago.

passion

i've seen it happen twice this year. and twice i have been impressed.

first, it was the kony 2012 campaign. now, north carolina's amendment one.

posted all over our towns and social media are public pleas for communities to pay attention. whether for or against either issue, it has been thrilling to see so many taking a stand on what they believe.

as a minister and then as a higher ed professional, well, unfortunately i saw far too much apathy in the communities i served. these issues have sparked raging fires inside people and they are desperate for people to hear their stories.

when was the last time you saw middle school students bring social justice campaigns to their youth group leaders and ask to be able to share their passions with their fellow teens? when was the last time a christian group made national news for something other than incongruency with the gospel they profess? (and yes, kony 2012 did receive such press, but only after the campaign had already broken into mainstream media. plus, the response was surprisingly encouraging.)

as i was driving through north carolina this past week (from charlotte to wilmington and back, so quite the trip) i couldn't help but notice that there were more lawn signs about amendment one then there were about any candidate.

what are you passionate about? is it the demand for clean water in uganda? what about local, sustainable grocery shopping? or maybe it's amendment one? whatever it is, do something about it. be vocal about it. put that passion into action. because passion without action is worth very little in this world.

and to be really frank, i don't care what you believe in. (okay, maybe i do. like...if you believed in murdering small children i might have to more than just care about and actually hate what you believe in.) agree with me on an issue or disagree with me wholeheartedly - i don't care, as long as you get behind that belief 100% and do something about it.

(regardless of who you believe the oppressor to be)

don't forget to vote tomorrow if you are a resident of nc. and because i should stand behind what i write, here are some resources for why i would be voting no, if i were still there:

• http://www.protectncfamilies.org
• http://greensborodistrictumc.org/node/490
• http://ncamendmentonetruth.wordpress.com/

in a slow motion blur

do you ever feel like you are in the eye of the storm? because that's how i feel these days. like everything is whirling around me at light speed and yet here i am, still chilling on my couch with pete curled up on one side of me and mr. darcy snoring on the other, macbook on my lap as i type away, creating graph after graph, chart after chart, slide after slide.

sometimes it feels like one of those dramatic cinematic moments when the camera zeros in on the main character, standing silently, slow-motion still in the middle of a train station while the crowds around her are moving so quickly they are but a blur.

that's how i feel.

like i'm in slow motion while the world around me is moving so quickly it's but a blur.

but i'd be a fool to believe that i'm not included in the fast-paced life that surrounds me. and although i've tried to ignore it, my body has started to force me to recognize that i, too, need to refocus and find balance. because walking around so distracted and disjointed in slow motion is just as bad as racing through life with blinders on. you miss things.

last night, as i sat in the medcheck waiting room, falling in and out of sleep as i patiently waited to see a doctor about my random ailment, i realized just how fast i'd been going. i had to make my doctor's appointment for 10:15pm because that's the only time that would work for me. and as my mind drifted in and out of consciousness, i couldn't help but laugh at myself (only in my head. don't worry - i didn't scare the strangers by being the girl in the corner laughing at her imaginary friends) and the fact that this moment - sitting in a waiting room at 11pm at night - was the first time in weeks that i could just sit and BE.

work is wonderful. volunteering is awesome. and i'm finally building a community here in indy. all of these things are important and healthy components of a balanced life. but i can't forget to make time for me. just me. me and my Maker.

time to soak in the mighty Silence.
time to breathe.
time to just be.

because i am, in fact, an introvert. and while so much of my life forces me to live out my extroverted alter-ego, at the core i still gain my energy from being alone and able to clear my head.

so tonight, i clear my head.
tonight, i listen to explosion in the sky's 'your hand in mine' and feel Comfort.
tonight, i find myself one day closer to a much-needed vacation from my current reality.
and tomorrow? tomorrow i will find myself at aveda enjoying a hair treatment and a facial.

we get to choose our attitude. every moment of every day. and tomorrow i will choose more wisely.
 

when i think of united methodist women...

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i’ve worshiped with a lot of different faith communities over my lifetime, starting here at grace church. i’ve experienced everything from very high church settings in orthodox traditions to powerful music-driven rock band services to extremely laid back emergent church in the round atmospheres. i’ve been a part of churches with less than 15 regular attendees to experiencing worship with 13,000. i’m certain i haven’t seen it all, but i sure have seen a lot of different kinds of churches.

that happens when you move around a lot. you find yourself searching for a church in your new community. you find yourself searching for a new place to call home.

i know people who have this church search business down to a science. they want a church in a convenient location with a talented praise band and a powerful preacher. oh, and we can’t forget an active children’s ministry where they can drop off the kids at least twice a week and know that they’ll make friends and have a good time.

these are good things to pay attention to when looking for a church community, important things, …but i would say that they are missing the point if that’s all they’re looking for.

because church isn’t about a convenient location or the quality or genre of music.

it’s about what we believe in. about who we believe in. about why we celebrate Christmas and easter. it’s about a God who breathed a son into being who changed the world through three short years of ministry, calling us to love one another then died so that as a forgiven people we just might get it right one day.

the church is about the greatest commandment – to love God with our whole beings and to love our neighbors as ourselves. the church is about community – with our Creator and with creation.  the church is about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and freeing the oppressed. it’s about speaking up for the marginalized in our society and peacefully, yet boldly fighting for justice.

our scripture today may come from the minor prophets, but i believe it articulates very simply what Jesus spent his life trying to teach us.

what does the Lord require of you? does God care about the genre of music or the amount of fancy technology used in a service? does God care about how we’re dressed for worship or what banners we have hanging in the halls of our churches?

i don’t think so.

and i believe that’s what God was getting at when speaking through the prophet micah. the rituals, the pomp and circumstance, the sacrifices and the grand gestures meant nothing to God unless the people really felt it in their hearts, and based on the story that precedes the verses of our scripture lesson, well, it sounds like israel wasn’t quite keeping up with that part of the covenant.

what does the Lord require of you? God doesn’t want empty gifts. God wants our hearts. and God wants action.

what does the Lord require of you? to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

one of the strongest role models we have in this endeavor is the united methodist women.

now, i have attended mother’s day banquets and hymn sings hosted by united methodist women. i’ve donated to rummage sales and even spent three hours straight making vats of tea for a southern umw high tea party, and i spent a lot of years not truly understanding what it meant to be a united methodist woman.  i didn’t realize where the money was going.

for example, did you know that in the past year the united methodist women here at grace have raised around $16,000 and given that money to organizations like habitat for humanity, africa university, side by side family mentoring, frances meredith homeless shelter, the camping and outreach funds and so much more listed in your bulletin.

when i think of united methodist women, i think of women’s societies in the church traditions long ago who would eventually merge together to form the united methodist church. i think of the women in north carolina who started children’s missionary societies in the 1870s. i think of the women who began fighting for racial justice in the 1880s. 

i think of the women’s missionary council who were extremely vocal about all kinds of national legislation in the 1940s like fighting for a repeal of the chinese exclusion act or supporting the extension of social security coverage to domestic and agricultural workers.

i think of 1954, when the woman’s division was the first agency of the methodist church to issue a statement in support of the supreme court’s decision that segregation in public education anywhere in this nation is an infringement of the constitution and a violation of the fourteenth amendment.

i think of 1960, when, out of support for the declaration of human rights, the women’s division led the way in purchasing property of what would become the church center for the united nations, directly across the street from the united nations complex so the methodist church could take part in affecting decisions for similar important causes. the church center continues to be the closest faith-based property to the united nations. 

i remember visiting that building while i was in college, but more vividly remembered are the days i spent there just a few years ago as part of a summit on global health. i was working for pfeiffer university at the time, and as a school founded by a predecessor of the united methodist women and included in the umw higher education initiative, we were invited to new york to participate in a summit on world health issues.

nine schools were represented at the summit. there were maybe a couple dozen of us in attendance and we spent several days sitting around a conference table learning about things like the need for proper midwifery training in africa and the need for clean water wells in uganda.

we dove into studies linking poverty and poor health in our own communities here in america and about what our government was discussing at the time to solve those issues. then we spent as many days discussing how we might leverage our influence with college students to spread the word and make change happen. who hosted that summit? the women’s division of the general board of global missions. the united methodist women.

not only does the united methodist church own the closest faith-based property to the united nations in new york city, we also own the closest faith-based property to this nation’s capitol in washington dc. visiting this building was my first real experience with the global church. i was nineteen. i was young. i grew up in a small town, then went to college in an even smaller town in rural west virginia.

sure, i knew something about rural poverty issues but i knew next to nothing about social justice issues effecting the rest of the world. heck, i quickly learned that i knew next to nothing about the social justice issues within my own community.

those few days during that seminar in dc changed the way i saw the world. before that, i had never heard of a carbon footprint and had no idea that human trafficking even existed. woven throughout learning about all of these issues, we also learned about systemic injustice and the legislation that either works to eradicate or sadly to prolong these community issues.

the most uncomfortable and equally incredible part of the seminar program, though, was when susan, the seminar program director, handed out paper and pens and led us in writing to our state representatives to demand justice.

i had spent many years going on mission trips, collecting canned goods, donating clothing and all kinds of other charitable acts. never before had i thought about the idea that there may be laws out there that are keeping people in poverty. never before had i thought about writing to congress or signing petitions or marching to the capitol – all things that the united methodist women are involved with on a regular basis.

when i took college students from pfeiffer to experience the same seminar program just a few years ago, susan took that activity a step further and showcased the very reason the united methodist church thought it was important to own land on capitol hill when they picked it out in 1917.

we walked across the street and met with our congresswoman. students shared about what they were passionate about. they respectfully asked her to keep their stories and opinions in mind when it came time for her to vote and represent them as citizens of her state. that remains one of my favorite moments as a Christian educator.

when i think of united methodist women, i think of that seminar program and that united methodist building on capitol hill. i think of mrs. wilson, who drew the original plans for the building whose lobby walls are engraved with the scripture “what does the Lord require of you but to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

when i think of united methodist women i think of these life-changing experiences throughout my journey. from global initiatives like seminars at the church center or the united methodist building to conference-wide initiatives like camping ministry and the summers i spent at camps wanake, asbury and aldersgate, to incredibly personal connections with united methodist women here at grace who taught me to play piano, taught me sign language, led sunday school and youth group and taught me what it meant to be a Christian. these moments, and so many more, have influenced me in magnificent ways.

as i’ve moved around throughout my life, finding new churches to call home in each new city i’ve seen a lot of different types of communities but one thing has been consistent. in every church community i find the united methodist women humbly serving their church and actively seeking justice in their community.

i am proud to be a woman of the united methodist church, and every day i strive to live up to the legacy the umw continues to leave in our churches and in the world. what does the Lord require of you? ask a united methodist woman. i bet she’ll be able to show you.

i failed.

here we are, 12:14am on good friday.
and i can't even tell you what the last two weeks' challenges were for my lent project.
i failed.

and i could tell you that i'm frustrated that i didn't stay committed to it. because i am.
and i could tell you that i feel guilty for not finishing the project. because i do.

i tell you because you are the people who hold me accountable. the people who love me in spite of myself. who challenge me to be more than i am. who laugh with me at life's most perfect moments. who cry with me when i break down over the phone because i'm just so overwhelmed.

and i am overwhelmed.

i have three huge, very public projects going on at work right now and although i'm confident that i can do them well i am terrified that i won't meet my deadlines.

on top of that, i'm preaching next sunday. i still have no sermon.

and that may not sound like a lot to you. maybe because it's not. but for me....for this week....for who i am right now and where my heart is, well it is. it is a lot. nearly too much.

i am overwhelmed.

so instead of taking time out of my days to focus on my lent project....i attempted to make some headway on the pile of life choking every last breath out of me.

and i failed.

i should have taken the time for the relentless acts of sacrifice.
i should have made time for intentional acts of service.
i should have spent quality time with my Maker.

i failed.

forgive me, please...

my body can't decide if it wants to weep for hours or pass out for days.
my mind won't stop long enough for either to occur.

so tonight, as i lie down for yet another night of staring at the ceiling, i set gungor's 'please be my strength' on repeat and let the song be my prayer.

"please be my strength, because i don't have any more..."

hypocrite

"hypocrite" he said. i felt his eyes on me as he said it. i knew he was talking about me even before my eyes met his, full of justified anger.

we had grown up in the church together, so although we had never been close friends we had known each other for years. we were gathered at the church with other senior high students for a unique bible study setting. having just finished the disciple bible study series, our class was looking for a way to continue the depth of conversation we experienced through the disciple series while exploring other topics.

our fearless adult leaders were absolutely incredible. the bartuneks are wonderful people and led us with this incredible freedom, allowing us to ask questions and be fully ourselves without consequence while simultaneously instilling such wisdom into our young hearts and minds.

when we decided to continue meeting, they created a unique space where we would come together with no agenda, no lesson, nothing. they brought a multitude of tote bags filled to the brim with a variety of translations of the bible, concordances, atlases - all kinds of biblical research resources. each week we came together, brainstormed what topic we would discuss, then hit the books in search of what scripture had to say to our experiences.

to this day, that short-lived bible study has been my favorite small group / sunday school / bible study adventure. i loved the freedom and the study, the mixture of scripture and personal experience, the wonderful people who gathered at the table each week.

i loved that bible study, but man, i hated the week we discussed hypocrites.

i had heard through the grapevine that was the name he was calling me at school, so it shouldn't have shocked me so much when "hypocrite" was the word that came out of his mouth as we brainstormed what would be our topic that evening.

but i was absolutely caught off guard. stunned, actually.

my face burned, my eyes watered, my stomach turned. i wanted to vomit.

...because it was true.
i was a hypocrite.

my best friend and i talked a good talk, but if i was completely honest with myself, i was just as catty and pretentious as the typical high school so-called "mean girl". i wasn't anywhere close to being the most popular girl in school, but that didn't matter. you don't have to be popular to treat others poorly.

to top it off, i was incredibly shy. so when i wasn't ignoring people because i didn't care about them, i was avoiding them because i was afraid of being socially awkward and making a fool of myself. either way, i looked like a snob. (i still struggle with that self-conscious shyness.)

maybe it was just a coincidence. maybe he wasn't really calling me out. it doesn't really matter though, because i needed the smack in the face.

i've spent the last ten years working on becoming the person i was created to be. i've screwed up a lot. my early twenties were full of a poor choices. heck, i was a co-founder of "team bad decisions" in my early charlotte years. and there have been moments when i've fallen back into that former version of myself and it hasn't been pretty.

...i'm going to pause here because i don't want anyone out there thinking that i was out there overdosing on drugs and stealing cars. when comparing my bad decisions with someone like lindsay lohan, well i've always been an angel. the point is, though, that i wasn't called to be lindsay lohan. and i wasn't called to be 22-year-old havaleh havelka forever either. i am called to become someone better than that.

to this day, whenever i see him or i hear the word "hypocrite" i think of that moment in high school and the shame and embarrassment that came along with it.

and when i thought of my lent challenge for this week, i thought of this story and how it has impacted my entire life since. this week i'm supposed to sacrifice what describes me. i've spent the past decade trying to do just that. because once upon a time, the word "hypocrite" described me and every day i get a little bit closer to changing that.

what words describe you? do you take ownership of them? do you take ownership for the values you export through your actions, your decisions, even your language?




Propaganda Solo: Sacrifice What Describes You from World Vision ACT:S on Vimeo.

sacrifice what describes you

Week Three: Sacrifice What Describes You from World Vision ACT:S


"we've all heard the phrase 'actions speak louder than words', but do we really believe it? ...what choices can we make that showcase the things we're passionate about?" ~ sam

i became a member of my church today. and it was one of the loneliest things i've done in a long while. as i stood in front between an adorable young couple from georgia and a woman who was excited because she had already joined the elderberries, a group for mature single women, well, i couldn't have felt more awkward. am i destined to join the elderberries too?

last week, at the membership class, the director of membership invited all of us to write a few sentences about ourselves for the pastors to read aloud as we are introduced to the congregation. i didn't know what to write. other people in the class wrote about their involvement in their last church or about how they ended up at st. luke's. my past involvement in the church has been that of employment. and not that i want to keep that a secret or anything, but i don't want that to be how i'm known here. i want to create a new church identity for myself.

so, what did i write on the page? "recently moved here from north carolina." yup. that's it.


what describes me? clearly i don't have a clue.

i'm going to have to think about this one some more...

sacrifice what feeds you

"what feeds you? what nourishes your body and mind? ...reevaluate what you eat and the information you take in in order to expand your world view." ~ sam

i apologize for my lack of writing this week! although i didn't write, i have been keeping up with this week's challenge - to sacrifice what feeds me.

this week, i drank only water in an effort to be reminded of just how privileged i am to have clean water at my disposal. and while i drank water this week, i thought about blood:water mission and the incredible work they are doing.

i thought about how a band partnered with a 21-year-old college student to start an organization with the goal of building 1000 wells in african communities. and i thought, what the heck am i doing?

so i attended the membership class at church. and i inquired about volunteering with the youth group. and i took the first steps to getting in contact with someone at the united methodist publishing house. these are my commitments for lent, and it's time for me to get moving. is it building a well in africa? no. but maybe, just maybe, through my volunteering ro my writing i'll help influence others to learn more about these issues and act on their convictions as well.

i think it's important to note that i screwed up this week. before i even realized what i had done, i finished a soda at lunch on wednesday. that was a harsh reminder for me that ignorance is all too easy to fall into. i couldn't even make it a whole week without forgetting to drink only water. how can i make it a lifetime without forgetting about the causes i believe in? 

that's why this lenten project is so important for me. i need to be reminded. i need to be surrounded by reminders. through the people i call friends, through the furnishings in my home and my office, through the food i eat and the water i drink, through the books i read and the news i watch.

Week Two: Sacrifice What Feeds You from World Vision ACT:S on Vimeo.