Rain drops keep falling on my head

Recently, my roommate Sarah and I discovered that our local bar, The Brewhouse, has karaoke every Monday night. We've had a fantastic time. It's become our own sort of Cheers because everybody knows our name (and we're always glad we came).  I suppose that isn't so hard when you both have the same name, look kind of similar, always come in together and are the worst performers in the joint.  But still, we feel special.

I had been out of town last week, so Sarah and I were super excited to go sing out hearts out this week.  Since it was Labor Day and everyone knows you can't wear white after Labor Day, we put on every piece of white clothing that we own.

What you can't tell in this blurry photo is that I'm wearing fabulous white heels.

It was pouring down rain outside and we have no car, but we didn't let that stop us.  We bundled up in jackets (and pants for me) and splashed happily to our favorite bar, eager to show off our fabulous outfits.  When we got there, we were soaking wet because are jackets weren't actually water proof.  We also noticed a suspicious lack of cars in the parking lot.  Turns out, it was Labor Day, so the Brewhouse was closed.

So, we turned around and walked in the pouring rain back home. I suppose a lesson we might take away from this is to call ahead.  Or invest in rain gear.  Or both.  But the one thing I regret most about the whole evening was that not once did occur to me to sing "Singing in the Rain" and dance on a lamppost while I was walking past lampposts and singing in the rain.  I mean really, what is wrong with me?

What indeed.

How I decided to become a minister

I recently came to a decision.  I am going to go to seminary.  I am going to get my Masters of Divinity and I am going to be an ordained minister.  It is both a scary decision for me and an immense weight off my shoulders.

I have struggled with this decision for a number of years.  I’ve always felt a push to enter the ministry, and it is a push that I have always resented.  The best advice I ever got was from an Episcopalian priest.  He said, “Run.  Run as fast as you can.  If you can’t run fast enough, then you’re meant to be in ministry.

And so I ran.

I don’t think any of us who are faithful, who believe in loving their neighbor, who believe in social justice or who just believe in doing whatever we can to improve whatever small patch of world we can, none of us truly own our lives.  If we want to give to the world, we must give at least a part of our lives.  It takes time, money, passion and skills to make a difference.

For me, entering the ministry was – is - saying that I am giving my whole life over to making a difference.  It is saying that my life’s work is about giving back to the world. I don’t doubt that whatever direction my life may have taken, I would have been giving back, but I was worried about the outward burden becoming a member of the clergy would put on me.

I also resented that becoming a member of the clergy would be a public declaration that I believed in God.  And not only that, but that I was a member of a Christian tradition.

My faith was something of which I was never proud, occasionally ashamed, but which was always present. 

The fact that I was a spiritual person, a person of faith, was a source of resentment to me.  I remember going through one period of intense doubt when I was around twelve, but since then, I haven't doubted God, so much as I have resented my belief in God.

I had this idea that there was a great schism between what was intelligent and what was faithful.  The word "Christian" isn't a popular word among many in our society; it isn't a word which inspires good feelings.  It wasn't a label I wanted to claim for myself.  Smart people were atheists.

I read argument upon argument about the existence of God. And I found that the arguments against God's existence were much stronger and much more compelling.  But even through that, I found I still believed.  I still felt God's presence in my life.  It was something I couldn't deny, however much I wanted to.

Since then, I've accepted my faith in God, and have stopped resenting it.  I don't have all the answers, in fact I have very few, and my understanding of God and faith is constantly growing and evolving.  But letting go of the pointless frustration I felt has let me continue my journey with a sense of peace.

Of course, right in front of me were intelligent, dedicated people who had a strong, compelling faith in God.  Smart, deeply caring people who with their own quiet faith, set about doing God's work.

Like most journeys in life, I have not walked this path alone.  Many of those smart, faithful people have been with me on this journey.  I can't name every person who has journeyed with me, but I want to recognize a few.

 In Pennsylvania, the Wyomissing Church of the Brethren, has surrounded me with love and support through every rocky patch of the journey.  They have shown me love, compassion and fellowship in ways that I have sometimes doubted could still exist.

Here in Ohio, the Cincinnati Church of the Brethren has shown me the idea of church is growing and evolving.  This is a church that is doing things and I'm proud to be a part of it.

The pastor here, Ben Walters, has been an invaluable mentor by simply allowing me the space to doubt, complain and be frustrated.  And by nudging me until I was ready to accept the call on my own.

My roommate, Sarah Mayer, has been an incredible companion on this journey.  Struggling with questions big and small is easier when you have someone who is sitting next to you, asking the same questions.

And always, always present are my parents.  They have been with me for every high and low of my journey and every yes then no decision that I've made.  Most of amazing of all, they never once told me what to do.  My parents walked with me on my journey, from the first faltering steps to this moment now, but I can walk tall knowing that though I am surrounded by support, I am moving my own two feet.

I am truly blessed. I know that this decision is simply the beginning of another journey, but I look forward to seeing where the road takes me and who I meet along the way.

A corporate shill of Christian love

There is a children's song called "When you learn to follow Jesus, you will act a little strange."  It's a bit of a silly song, but I've only begun to realize how full of truth it is.

When I signed up for BVS, I knew that i could be sent anywhere to do most anything.  And I was down for that.  I wanted to do a year of service, and I understood that service takes many forms.  Or at least I thought I did.

Fast forward to my time in Ohio.  I work with kids, tutor adults, all pretty common, run of the mill good things to do.  I also paint, clean out fridges, preach and organize Easter Egg hunts.  Maybe not the first things you think of when you think of service, but I do work for a church.

This is me hanging with TWO six foot white rabbits. Jimmy Stewart, eat your heart out.

Recently, however, I have been spending a good deal of time encouraging people to shop at a local grocery store.  Not a small, local mom and pop store featuring organic produce.  But at Kroger, the largest grocery store chain in the United States.

 And it's not because we're boycotting another store or trying to make a point.  I want people to spend money, lots of money at this Kroger so that it makes money, lots of money.

The fact is, this grocery store - the Walnut Hills Kroger - hasn't turned a profit in over four years.  And any business that doesn't tun a profit is danger of closing.  If this business closes, it just might be the final nail in the coffin for Walnut Hills.

First, if Kroger leaves Walnut Hills, our neighborhood becomes a food desert, which in short means that there is no source of healthy food.  Many of us in this neighborhood do no have access to cars, so we walk to and from the grocery store.  The store closes means taking buses and cabs, annoying enough for a single person like me, but even more of a head ache to anyone with children.  All of this adds expenses onto already strained budgets.

Second, Kroger is the largest business in Walnut Hills.  If it closes down the store and leaves a big empty box, the challenge of revitalizing the neighborhood shoots through the roof.  Empty buildings aren't exactly welcome signs.

So, on the second and fourth Tuesday of every month, I help out the Walnut Hills Redevelopment Foundation (WHRF) with their Buy 25 Tuesdays. 

Which means I sit at this table for 4 hours, being friendly and polite.

What WHRF and Kroger management figure out was that it would take 200 new customers spending $50 a month to make the store profitable.  So we set out to do just that.  Every second and fourth Tuesday, we hold events from 4 pm to 8 pm, asking people to come spend around $25 and to tell us about their experiences.

Which means they tell me what products they couldn't find

The Walnut Hills Kroger management has been great.  Because we're bringing in a new customer base, they want to buy different things.  After every event, we tell them what the top three most requested items were, and they do their best to stock them for the next event.  So far, we've added organic fruits and vegetables, whole wheat pasta, whole bean coffee and local beers to the store's inventory.
 
I'm just a small cog in the machine, but I do get to interact with most of the shoppers who come out to support Buy 25 and our local store.  It's rewarding to see so many people who care about the neighborhood, about the community and about their neighbors.

I also get to do the date entry, which is largely boring, but means that I'm the first one to know the results of our efforts.  Since every event has been more successful than the last, that means I get to share good news.  At our last event we brought in almost $7,000 in business, two grand over our goal for each event.  I'm going to chalk that up in the win column.

Just in case you're not yet bored with tale of Buy 25, here's a video from the local news, with a silent cameo by your favorite blogger.

Will oats, peas, beans and barley grow?

There are two gardens at the community house.  A flower garden in the front and a raised bed vegetable garden on the side.  They'd both been running wild for a bit.  I was eager to dive in and start my contribution to the community house.  My housemates told me to go right ahead and give it shot because they are fabulous people who also happen to not be too big of fans of dirt. Luckily, I have no problem with dirt.

Fiercely not having a problem with dirt in The Gambia.

Proudly not having a problem with dirt in Turkey.

Determinedly not having a problem with dirt at BVS orientation

So I dove right in and started pulling weeds.  Or at least pulling what I could figure were weeds.  I attacked the vegetable garden first and then moved on to the front garden.  I recognized some things as straight up weeds and some as straight up supposed-to-be-there plants.  But there were a lot of in between plants.  Sarah and Sticks had wandered out to keep me company and I would confer together before deciding what needed to be pulled up.  It was rather pleasant.

Either I have just valiantly removed an evil weed or I've just destroyed someone's hard work.  If it's the former, Sticks and Sarah totally told me to do it!

 

 The most nerve wracking thing I did was to plant seeds in the vegetable garden. That, my friends, is faith. You plant these bitty seeds in the ground and just pray that something sprouts.  it was terrifying. While I was possibly committing plant murder, I was fretting about wasting seeds and failing the house garden.  But luckily, my housemates are marv.  Sticks told me that if one things grows, our garden is a success. And Sarah snapped pictures so I had proof that I tried.  (I'm not sure what Marc thinks. He probably hopes things grow if only so he doesn't have to hear me lament about them not growing).


I'll keep you all updated with our house gardens.  Hopefully something will grow.  Until then, here's proof that I'm working hard:

It's also proof that even elbow deep in dirt, my nails look fabulous!

Cross posted at the Cincinnati BVS Community House Blog, which is updated each week by a different member of our house.

Broadway, baby

Note: I make references to specific songs and for the enjoyment of my readers, I've included links to those songs, if you'd like to take a listen.  But really, it doesn't matter.  You can totally ignore all those links.

I love show tunes.  I make no secret of it.  It's probably my number one conversation killer. Some friendly new person will say "So, what kind of music do you like?"  Then I'll tell them I love show tunes and they awkwardly trail off and desperately look for someone else to talk to or tell me that they like Rent.

But despite my inability to have a proper conversation about musical tastes with most other people, show tunes have always been there for me.  There is a song for every occasion.  Making small talk at the office after a hard day's work?  Bam.  "It's Been a Long Day."  Frustrated that your exotic plant won't sprout? Bam. "Grow for me."  Just want to celebrate your ridiculous amounts of hair? Bam. "Hair."

 I was dancing to "Cotton Eye Joe," but I was thinking about "Hair" the whole time.

And in their bountiful wonderfulness, show tunes came through for me when I realized I'd be spending the next year in Ohio.  Right into my head popped "Ohio," a beautiful lamenting song about how wonderful Ohio is and how maybe the singer should return home to Ohio.

Jane Lynch and Carol Burnett pretending to be mother and daughter and that they love Ohio.

Actually, all of that is lies.  Well, the song  "Ohio" mostly consists of "Why, oh, why-oh, did I ever leave Ohio?" but everything else was lie.  That was not the song I thought of.

I thought of "A Summer in Ohio" from The Last 5 Years.  If you want, take a listen to this sketchy and probably illegal video of the song.

It starts off encouragingly enough:

I could wander Paris after dark
Take a carriage ride through Central Park
But it wouldn't be as nice as a summer in Ohio
Where I'm sharing a room with a "former" stripper and her snake: Wayne

But it quickly turns into this:

I could shove an ice pick in my eye
I could eat some fish from last July
But it wouldn't be as awful as a summer in Ohio

Without cable, hot water, Vietnamese food, or you.

I may be lucky enough to have hot water, but I do have to pretend to be interested in baseball.

Truthfully, I love what little of Cincinnati I know so far.  Admittedly it's not that much, but I'm enjoying the process of getting to know it.  I've been to some good restaurants, checked out the art museum (which is having a special Monet exhibit. Can you say fate?), grabbed several loads of books from the library system and have become quite the connoisseur of our local Kroger (Kroghetto, if you will).  I even enjoyed driving a borrowed stick shift car up and down the many, many hills of Cincinnati (well, enjoyed it once the feeling returned to my fingers).

That doesn't mean every day has been a piece of peach pie.  I miss my poodle and the family I babysit for and my church family at Wyomissing Church of the Brethren, and my own family (sometimes).  And part of BVS and living a simple lifestyle is making sacrifices.  Again, I haven't been here that long and haven't had to make all that many sacrifices, but I know that there are things I'm not going to be able to go home for and be a part of.  Life at home will go on without me.

So whenever I feel myself getting too sad, I just start singing to myself "I'd rather be going slightly batty, in Walnut Hills, Cincinnati..."

 

Shredding for Jesus

We're about a week into Lent and many people are probably seriously beginning to regret giving up chocolate.

Not me.  I have never spent a second of my life regretting giving up chocolate.  Mostly because I have never been foolish enough to attempt to live without it.

I've never been apart of the tradition that gives things up for Lent.  I remember being about eight years old and asking my father why we didn't.  "Because we try to remember the teachings of Jesus everyday," he told me.  That did and still does make perfect sense to me.

So when one of my housemates asked what all of us were giving up for Lent, I was prepared to give my usual reply.  Then my other housemate chimed in that, in her family, instead of giving something up for Lent, they added something to their lives.

I liked the sound of that.  One of my friends has always used the Lenten season as a time for disciplined self-improvement and that seemed like a good idea to me, too.  So for Lent this year, I decided to add Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred to my life.

Jillian Michaels, looking shredded after presumably only 30 days.

So far, it's been pretty good.  I've done three workouts.  Jillian tells me I'm doing a great job and I'm not going to believe the results.  She has confidence that I can do it; I've just got to give it my all.  I'm pretty sure that I've made amazing progress and am just about an exact clone of Jillian.

Me, looking like an exact clone of Jillian after 3 days.

Yeah, I'm feeling good enough about this whole workout thing that I'm going to grab myself an extra piece of chocolate tonight.  And maybe a cupcake, too.  And that peanut butter ice cream...

The state of independence

"It's not community theater; it's better," Ben, the pastor from Cincinnati Church of the Brethren (and my supervisor) told me as he pointed to Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park. "Bob from church has an ushering gig there and sometimes he needs help.  It's a great way to see shows for free."

Free theater?  Sign me up please!  Well, someone in the universe was listening because two nights ago, my housemate got a call from Bob, who needed someone to fill in for him as an usher. Bingo! I was set.

Cut to Friday night.  I'm walking at what would be dusk if the snowy rain would let up, cutting through the park to go to a theater where I've never been before to usher, even though I'm not entirely sure what that entails or where I'm supposed to go or to whom I'm supposed to report.

And I start to feel a little smug.  A little proud of myself.  I'm an independant woman.  I'm going after the things I want.  Look out, world!  I'm strong, I'm confident and I'm on my way up and I'm doing it all by myself!

Except I'm not. At all.  I wouldn't be in Cincinnati without the support of BVS.  I wouldn't be in BVS if it weren't for the support of my family.  I wouldn't be able to usher without the help of Bob from church.  Hell, I wouldn't even be properly outfitted without loans from my housemates and the pastor's wife, Kristin.

Maybe though, that's part of being independent.  While it was true that a number of people had helped make my trek to the theater possible, no one was holding my hand.  I had chosen to do it myself and I was taking the steps to get my self there (pun definetely intended).  I think independent doesn't mean being alone, it means being able to take on life on your own.

So here's a big thank you to everyone who supports me and enables me to be the independent woman I am.  I couldn't have been this awesome without you.