The Path of Privilege

Privilege is…

             Opportunity.

Advantage.

Benefit.

Honor.

Freedom.

Right.

A common theme in my musings “service.”

A common theme in my life is “privilege.”

YAV uses the slogan “A year of service for a lifetime of change.”

I am continually assessing this statement. Although the sentence alludes to a life-long change within us during that one year, I cannot help but question how we got here.

What brought us here? Who brought us here?

And, why are we changed? Not how, that is the easier question… with answers full of heart-warming interactions at placements, conflict resolutions over house issues, fights, tears, hugs from clients, coworkers, students, and friends.  

That is how we are changed by the places we work and the people who we meet.

Why are we changed?

The cause? The reason? The purpose?

We are changed because we have to be.

It seem obvious. It may seem simple. It may seem cynical.

We have to adapt to a simple life style. We have to mold to fit our new surroundings. We have to compromise with our house. We have to be flexible. We have to do the work, that at times, no one else wants to do. We have to get mad. We have to experience sadness, loneliness, loss. We have to be scared.

Many of those emotions may have nothing to do with our work placements.

We have to realize we are in service of ourselves.

I am serving. I am serving myself. I am serving my family. I am serving my church.

I have the freedom to serve. The honor. The benefit. The advantage.

It is easier to shy away from the privilege of service. Because privilege has become an ugly label in our work. Privilege carries a connotation of elitism, exclusion, and snobbery. We are also praised and reminded of our “sacrifice” more then we are shown our advantage.

I see it in the eyes of those I attend church with. I see it in the faces of those who hear about my work. I hear it in the voices of my parents. I feel it in the stories they tell me about my home church community.

And it is not a need for humility that makes my uncomfortable. It is the internal struggle of how to explain, in a clear and concise way, that my change is due to them, those proud faces and supportive voices. It is due to the rights I have to begin with, the rights my community has, the rights the church has.

The work I am doing is so important, but it is part of a long-term solution to hunger. It is almost removed from the idea that society has of “the fringes.”

I will never be on the fringes. Many of us will never be, and never have been on the fringes. We have opportunities. And that is a blessing, not a burden. 

The road leading to my “lifetime of change” was smooth, all things considered. The year of service is and has been an important component, but it is not the catalyst for my change. It takes more than one year, it takes more than one community. 

A year of learning…

A year of growth…

A year of living…

A year of honor…

                                                Towards our lifetime of change. 

           

Guilt of Gossamer Connections.

Marching onward, marching upward, marching forth, March, March, March 26, 2013.

So much time, so little blog space. 

February brought adventures:

Two days, 30+ hours of driving, musical singing, story sharing, gas station coffee consuming. 

Road trip partner in crime, Rachel and I successfully made it to snowy Cleveland with sleepy eyes and a worm bin in the backseat. 

I miss that lady constantly. Arms wide, perfect height for hugging on the mornings we happened to be in the office at the same time. Offering sanctuary whenever I needed, in the form of a smile, a poke, a silly, perhaps dirty joke. Even now it hasn’t quite sunk in that she has moved away. We both keep chugging along, trying to reach out with emails, texts, a shared smartphone game we play. 

It gives me a taste of the future, what is to come. The friends, housemates, fellow volunteers I live with, work with, fellowship with, may be gone in a few months time. It has me thinking… 

How connected will we stay?

The pessimist at the end of the school year/ summer camp session/ graduation party has come out. The year book signatures I never understood, the address swapping I participated in, the “this isn’t good bye” clichés we spoke have begun to swarm. The anxiety buzzing in my head of the future, the guilt, the disappointment of others. 

                                            Will the World Wide Web really keep us linked?

Does my “like” encompass everything I want to tell you?

Will the "selfie" you posted show me how you feel when you are all alone?

Can the smiley face, alongside a post I think you’ll like say, “I love you and I miss you”?

Can this social net work? 

  

There will be times you call, and I won’t want to answer. I will be tired. I will be busy.

There are times I call when you won’t want to answer. You will be tired. You will be busy.

I’d like a little faith. A little assurance, or maybe insurance on the claim of our friendship.

Span the time, span the distance. Span the lack of communication. 

Tell me it will work. Tell me you mean something to me, and I mean something to you, 

as we send a prayer and a text message in a bottle into the sea of wirelessnes.

Retreat.

For those unfamiliar with the schedule of the Tucson YAV, here’s a little run-down on what is to be expected during the time leading up to Easter.

February: 6-10th 
“Lenten Spiritually Retreat”

Retreat has a common definition in the PCUSA world, at least in my PCUSA world. It means spending some time in a place removed from society, technology, usually surrounded by nature:

Passing time with youth group friends, church family, and pastor, reading the Bible, talking about God, Jesus, the Spirit. Singing, having campfires, roasting s’mores, and in my experience playing a rocking softball game that we rock-hopped to along a creek. 

 

Worship services start and end each day, keynote mornings and homily evenings.

On paper, our Lenten Spirituality Retreat is not too far off this limiting definition:

Removed from society: check.

Surrounded by nature: check.

With friends, church family, pastor: check.

Talking about God, Jesus, Spirit: check.

Campfires: check.

Roasted marshmallows: check.

Rock-hopping: check.

Worship to start and end the days: check.

And yet, this experience was so much more then I had anticipated.

We gathered together, in our base camp, Wednesday morning through Friday morning, spending time in nature, singing, laughing, playing games. We rose with the sun and slept with the stars. Greeting the morning and the night with short meditations and prayers.

 Then, Friday morning after eating breakfast, we packed and walked out into the desert.

Along the path we dropped our packs, one by one, spreading ourselves half a mile from each other. The last placement was about four miles from base camp. The terrain shifted and changed dramatically. Canyon walls rose and closed in closer, rusty red, dotted with cacti and agave. The floor flowed with crystal clear water. Cotton wood trees, Arizona walnut trees, and sycamores reigned, surrounded by desert grains and grasses. It felt like a wonderland. And I was lost.

Climbing up a steep, crumbly slope to eat lunch we saw the mountains spreading all around and the canyon widening beneath us. After our meal, we slowly descended back into the waiting ravine.  We walked back together, our numbers dwindling as each member stopped at their appointed site and began to make camp.

I waited with the last three, being the second to last to set up, the second closest to our base. As my supervisor walked with me through the bosque, I started breathing deeply, trying to prevent the tears from starting to form in my eyes. He bounded between trees looking for the best placement of my tarp and ground cloth, I tried to keep up as my feet dragged with the weight of this decision.

As he left me, sitting under my tarp, waiting for the night, he said, “We’ll see you when we see you. Remember, this is ‘choose your own adventure.’ And know, that you are loved.”

I stayed one night in the desert. I chose that adventure and that path. I did not stay for both nights, and I am not weighted by that decision. Mentally, I was not ready to face myself in that space. I returned to camp on Saturday afternoon and spent the day in silent company with the community there.

On Sunday we were asked to reflect on our time spent on the sojourn. I had not reflected much on my decision and my time in the desert. I felt removed from my memory, removed from my mind. When I faced it, this is what I saw.

Fear flushing cheeks in red,

Heart beats anxiously searching

 for a home.

Hallowed trees to hold a sleeping body.

Praying towards the sinking sun

-weeping.

Mothers and fathers

sons and daughters.

Lost in body

lost in mind

lost passion

for life.

Lying, stillness

beating, beating, beating, racing heart

smothering calm surrounds

-unease.

Waking, sleeping, dreaming

dancing consciousness within.

Gratitude in sunlight

blanketed, dulled by clouds.

Droplets fall lightly all around

rain frozen in time

delicately descending

-snow.

Captured, motionless

wrapped in self

cocoon of terrifying safety

tidal thoughts, in, out.

Daylights’ unfulfilled promise

of security

that ease of sight,

bright shining comforts, nowhere

Still body infecting,

bringing stillness of mind

blocked, numb

-fear.

Creeping anxiety flares

hot, fast, deep

shaking nervousness, knots slip in trembling fingers

the beast descends.

Cold, relieving breath in a snow covered mountain

walking, stumbling,

ever seeking salvation

in a windmill.

Serve: to contribute or conduce.

This may be double-dipping, but it has been a minute since my last posting…

As I continued to work on my Americorps application for next year I kept putting off the ‘Motivational Statement’ section. It posed the question, “Why do you want to serve?” I’ve been asked this question in a multitude of ways, and I struggled to find my voice. How could I spice up the generic, mundane, bland answers I usually give?

Because it’s what my parents taught me.

    Because it’s important to the world.  

         Because I enjoy giving back to community. 

               Because I like working with like-minded people

                     Because I liked the feeling I got after {insert heartwarming story}...

                           Because it’s what I learned in Sunday school and Mission Trips

Instead, this time, I hoped to reveal something about my character, rather than just focus on the fact that serving is something that I want. In my case, service is not the end goal. These volunteer programs that I am participating in are not about my experience. They are not about me. They are about the communities that I am serving in. Sure, I’m learning new skills, gaining knowledge, and earning a little self- gratification, but that is only a small portion of service. Mine and everyone else's. Although others may choose to see the physical labor, the change they’ve made, or the impact that they have created. I would like to view my years of service as how I am living my life. I serve because I cannot see another option. It is where I fit, where I am comfortable. Service should be commonplace. I wonder if that came off as 'motivational'….

"…Service is inherent. It is the foundation by which we should live our lives. Community should be based on human interaction: a smile, a handshake, a hug, sharing a meal, building a house, painting a room, storytelling, sharing experience, and listening. Service is about both doing and being. Doing the work, making something, and seeing physical results are important, but service is also about being present in those moments. At times struggle with the common definition of service. All too often it is viewed as a gift, a bestowal. Service can also be more self- gratifying then actually helpful. The easiest forms of service are the bandages that provide quick fixes. Service should go deeper, towards the root of the problem. I am drawn toward the Americorps program because I not only want to participate in service, I also want to participate in and form a place in the community where I am serving. It may sound naïve, and possibly a little far-fetched, but I believe a bond and connection can be built and maintained in only a year’s time. Right now, I work with the Young Adult Volunteer Program through the Presbyterian Church, where we spend one year living in community and working around our placement sites. After only five months in Tucson, I already feel connected. Friendships and working relationships have been formed, as well as an affinity for this place. I work for the Community Food Bank of Southern Arizona, with the Farmers’ Market Consignment Coordinator and the Garden Team. Both these positions afford me the luxury of meeting new people, learning new skills, and connecting with the greater Tucson area. Each week at the Farmers’ markets I see the familiar faces of the vendors and customers, I bond with those who buy our produce by asking how they use certain vegetables, especially the local and native plants. I give recommendations for how to choose certain produce, if asked. In these quick, weekly interactions, I have created a mental Rolodex, so the following week I ask how the recipe turned out or how they enjoyed the duck eggs. With the garden team I spend time with volunteers and homeowners digging garden beds in the backyards of Co-op members. We share stories about gardening mishaps, composting tips, our favorite things to grow and to eat. We talk about heat, exhaustion, where we are from, our families, our visions about the world, politics, and even religion. Service is creating connections. My service is opening my mind, my eyes, my ears, and my heart to others. I focus on working in tandem with people, learning alongside my community, growing and gaining experiences as we participate together. An Americorps year would provide me with another way to experience a community and further my life in service."

Space to breathe

Still holding out for the next edition?

My last posting was focused on our Fall Festival Farmers’ Market, and now we’re closing in on the Holiday Market. Time really does fly. 

Since mid-November:

u 1. Our house, dubbed ‘Casa Banana,’ has acquired 6 chickens, with several more on the way. 

ü  2. We spent a community Thanksgiving together with members from Tucson, Cascabel, and Benson, AZ at Sleeping Frog Farms. Beautiful scenery, glorious sunshine, an outdoor feast complete with purple mash potatoes, native foods, vegan deserts, and micro green smoothies. Unorthodox and completely perfect. 

ü  3. Planted our garden in the backyard: broccoli, greens, carrots, and beans. 

ü  4. I am dancing, dancing, dancing

The first weekend of December we went to the Cascabel to help set up and facilitate their annual Christmas Fair. We arrived on Thursday, set up our camp, and got to work. That evening was full of laughter and story sharing as we sat in our hosts living room playing a ‘get to know you’ style game. As housemates we have become comfortable with one another. We can joke and laugh, we understand living styles, eating habits, morning rituals, but it isn’t until we are posed certain digging questions that we really reveal our inner selves. The game was a nice way to hear the perspectives and backgrounds of the people I am surrounded by each day. 

Friday morning we started bright and early, clearing out spaces for vendors, unloading chairs, tables, and becoming reacquainted with people in the community. Ellison lives in Cascabel full time, and we are not able to visit too often. Seeing him interact with his community members was a wonderful experience. 

On Saturday and Sunday I helped man the Cascabel Conservation Association Bake Sale table. I was working with two community members who quickly became some of my favorite people at the fair. At the time I didn’t understand why I was receiving so much affirmation, and even praise, for helping set up the bake sale. All I did was set out food on plates, make signs, and move things around. I was conversational, I joked and laughed, I tried to do anything I could to help set up. Normal, even easy, this was not work for me, this was fun. Later, my mother put it into perspective. Not everyone can jump right in, and there are days or circumstances in which I would not have felt comfortable doing that. 

There is something about the community in Cascabel that made me feel welcomed from the moment I arrived. Cascabel is a funky little nugget of a community. Peoples’ backgrounds are varied, political and social viewpoints are diverse, and yet, everyone still participates in this intentional community. Community members have their own space, their own homes and acreage, but they share a vein of thought. Simplistic living, low impact on the environment, little technology, and lots of space to breathe. After entering their space a few times, it’s starting to sink into me. As the world changes all around the idea of having time, the idea of having space away is intriguing, alluring, exciting. For me, it is unknown, and it may be an idea worth exploring. 

Newsletter Nugget

I was asked by my supervisors at the food bank to write a small blurb about the Fall Festival Market we hosted last month. Double dipping seems appropriate. I hope this will give you a better visual of my market working environment.

Fall is apple cider, pumpkin carving, costumed madness, and sweaters. I expected to leave fall far behind, along with all other defined seasons, as I packed my bags for a year here in Tucson. There is nothing here to fall. Cacti do not shed flares of bright, warm colored leaves. Mesquite does not litter the sidewalk with a rainbow of red, orange, or yellow bits that provide a satisfying crunch under your boots as you walk. But hey, I’m from Georgia, what do I really know from fall?

 Fall is a feeling. It is more than a change in the weather; it is a season that works its way into your body and spirit.

Thursday, October 25^th, was a perfect fall day; the whisper of a cold breeze, the crisp clean scent of winter just around the corner, and a festival to welcome in the season. Mercado San Agustin provided the backdrop. Local vendors provided the fruits of their harvests: pumpkins, apples, sweet potatoes, winter squash, honey, herbs, and homemade goods. The smell of a winter stew lingered in the air as a crowd gathered in the square to hear the students from Roskruge Bilingual school play mariachi. Children laughed, played, and gathered around a craft table to decorate pumpkins and have their faces painted.

This season brings people together. Anticipating Thanksgiving, gearing up for holidays spent with family and friends, Fall is a time for folks to come together and celebrate. That Thursday, during our Farmers’ Market, I felt the Tucson community all around me. I found myself in the middle of this wonderfully diverse community, with a smile on my face, knowing that the work we do provides time and space for celebration of families, food, and the community we live in. And, I don’t miss the leaves one bit.