Tuesday, September 18, 2012

What JVC Taught Me

My last day of JVC/Casa DK/Urban Compass was August 3rd. The last few weeks were a prolonged goodbye--birthday celebrations for me and the Mikes, DisOrientation, blessings, goodbye parties... it was hard to say goodbye to everyone. The kids had varying reactions--some were genuinely angry with me that I was leaving, some cried, some didn't seem to grasp the situation. I fell in love with the children of Urban Compass and I miss them so much already. As they get older, they may not remember me, but I know I will never forget them.

As for my community and coworkers--I cannot imagine my life without them now. It has been bizarre having less contact with them in the last month and a half, but we are trying to still stay in touch and be involved in each others' lives, though obviously it cannot be at such a high level.

It's been almost two months since the end of JVC and I don't think I've adequately written about this year, so I present to you: What JVC Taught Me.

JVC taught me about humility. From the very beginning of orientation, we were warned that we would not be able to "save" our students/clients/the world with our work. And as much as I heard those words, I don't think I truly understood how small a piece of the puzzle I was until I had worked at Urban Compass for a while. Cerebrally, I knew the challenges and the struggles that my students faced, yet how could you be prepared for the stories they told? How could you be prepared to have a second grader tell you how she witnessed her uncle's murder in a carjacking? How could you be prepared to hear the story of a father's deportation? How could you be prepared to hear about the abuse? I was reminded daily of my humanity. There was no way I could just take these children out of the poverty and violence of their lives; there was no way I could even singlehandedly guarantee that they would make it to the next grade level.

But what I could do was commit myself wholeheartedly into my work at Urban Compass and give my kids my whole self every afternoon. I helped them with their homework. I listened to their stories. I encouraged them. I disciplined them when needed. I hugged them. I loved them--and that was all I could do. It's hard to realize how little control we have on other people's lives--but taught me an important lesson in humility. I will not save the world. But the world might save me.

JVC taught me about taking chances. Living in community, we ate meals together a few times a week. I'm not much of a cook, but to hold up my share, I started cooking more often. (Though, honestly, not nearly as often as other members of my community, but I did try to make an effort) Not every dish was excellent, but I started to have a few signatures that were even requested. I've always loved exploring, and living in LA for a year meant a whole new world to see. We made a LA Bucket List, and tried to knock off something every weekend. I went and saw Wicked at Pantages alone with Christmas money. LA has so many museums, and I loved exploring them. Moving to LA itself was taking a chance, and brought on a new mindset for me in my year in JVC.

JVC taught me about making connections. I have long made connections through dance--and this year was no different, even if I didn't dance as much as I would have liked. One of my favorite memories with one of my favorite students was a day we had a dance party in the classroom after homework time was over. Putnam and I went dancing a couple times, and I started actually letting him lead when we danced. I taught "Shackles," a dance we did in Heavenly Expressions at Mt. Level to my community. A fourth grader and I did the entire "Single Ladies" dance one day in the program (she knew it better than I did, I have to confess). The ladies of DK went to Richard Simmons' workout class, and sweated our butts off and had the time of our lives.

Besides dance, I learned to make connections other ways. Hayden and I sang duets occasionally; our best one was "Jackson" but I think "Another Day" was pretty good too. We had dinner as a community about four times a week, which I think was one of the most valuable aspects of our community. We'd recap our days, share our joys and struggles, laugh a lot and often get into deep discussions. This was one of the more informal ways we came together, while our support team, Shannon and Maria, had us come together more formally. Our support team came over every other week and we had structured time as a community--they facilitated conversations that needed to be had and brought out parts of us that we were more reluctant to show. I have learned there is a place for both of these situations in forming lasting connections. Sometimes you need to have structured conversations, but sometimes you just need to spend some time together, and laugh.

JVC taught me about faith. Once a week we did spirituality nights, and we took turns planning them, occasionally teaming up. We watched movies and documentaries, danced, prayed, wrote letters, poems and journal entries, read essays, listened to talks, faith shared, made resolutions, read the bible, meditated... We explored and expanded our spirituality both together and personally. The JVC Silent Retreat was in early May, and came at a time that I most needed to recharge my faith. Immediately after this retreat, I headed home to see my mom in the hospital. There were some structured activities, but in general it was up to us to be silent and listen to God and embrace ourselves as spiritual beings. At our final "DisO" retreat, different Casas led the group in prayer--and many were very powerful, all about making peace with the year and moving forward. It was a renewal of my faith that I could move forward and take this experience with me.

JVC taught me about perseverance. The first time I was in charge of a classroom was at age 18, teaching Vacation Bible School at Mt. Level in the 2/3 year old classroom. That week was one of the most stressful of my life and I was not too interested in teaching after that. Fast forward to the summer before JVC and teaching VBS at First Baptist--things went a lot smoother. I was teaching older kids (the same age as I would be teaching later at Urban Compass) and I had a better idea of what I was doing.

When I accepted the job at Urban Compass, I hoped I would be working with older elementary--age 8 to 10 or so, but instead I was placed in the K/1 classroom. I was very apprehensive about this, and I had a very difficult time at first establishing routine, rules and consequences. But as time passed, the job got easier. I became more comfortable and the kids started responding better to me. We had our bad days, but by the end of the year, I was much more confident in my teaching abilities.

JVC taught me about beauty. Through our exploration as a community, and mine personally, I found myself constantly encountering God's beautiful creation. As a community we traveled to San Diego, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite and Sequoia National Park. We went to the beach pretty often; the many beaches of the Southland area are all beautiful in their own way. One of my favorite places I found was the rose garden at USC. I fell in love with those gorgeous California roses and loved spending time there when I needed some time away from the house.

JVC taught me about compromise. I grew up in a big family in a small space, so I figured living in community wouldn't be too hard. Well, living in intentional community is hard. There's a lot of compromise that goes on, from taking turns cooking to taking turns doing the dishes, from noise levels to movie choices, from being chatty to being quiet, from diet restrictions to trying new foods, from keeping personal stuff in common areas to a minimum to hanging out in the common areas and intentionally spending time with one another... and then of course, what to do with the cat that just walked in the house. There were a lot of arguments. But when it came down to it, we were not willing to let these things come between us as a community, and we always managed to compromise.

JVC taught me about being silly. Taking on a full time volunteer job at a nonprofit that worked with children that live in the biggest housing development west of the Mississippi was a serious undertaking. Fortunately, children are silly, and brought out my silliness. Outside of work, as a community we also took time to unwind. A particularly memorable night was Halloween, when we bobbed for apples and ate donuts off a string... We threw and attended many house parties (that's how to have fun on a budget), many of which were themed, most notably 90's prom. We'd go to Yogurtland and only eat samples (dessert on a budget) and I began to perfect my rendition of Beyoncé's "Irreplaceable" as my go-to karaoke song. And the only celebrity I really had contact with was Wayne Brady when we went to a taping of "Let's Make a Deal," where I touched his leg when he walked by. (Yes, that's my big LA celeb moment)

JVC taught me about hope. At the beginning the year, I started the quote wall at DK. I updated it pretty often, and when we left, there was only the bottom quarter of the door uncovered. These quotes were a daily reminder to us of what we were doing, and why we were doing it. They reminded us to hope. The stories that we told at the dinner table or during community/spirituality nights gave me hope too. Though the stories were often painful, I was hopeful knowing that my community and I were working to give others hope; we were committing our lives to people who needed hope.

My classroom, Room 203, gave me hope. More specifically, the sixteen loud and crazy 5/6/7 year olds that seemed to rarely actually be sitting down in it. I loved seeing the Aha! moments on my students' faces when a math problem made sense or they read a sentence perfectly. The resiliency of those children gives me hope that they will be able to break the cycle of poverty and violence they were born into. And when the fifth grade of 112th St graduated and sang "We Are the World," I found hope that these children will change the world.

JVC taught me about strength. JVC is no picnic--we are placed in difficult, demanding jobs, live with strangers, are far away from family and friends... As someone who already struggles with depression, there were times during JVC that my spirits got to an all time low, but each day I managed to get out of bed in the morning was a victory. I marched for Trayvon Martin and it was a rare monsoon rainstorm in LA--my umbrella broke and still we marched in the flooded streets; all I could think was it was the least I could do. I may have been soaked all the way through, but Trayvon Martin had been murdered, and I wasn't going to let the rain stop me from showing my solidarity.

The real test of my strength, though, came in early April with my mom's diagnosis. I didn't know how to handle it. I spent a lot of time hiding in my closet, because it felt safer in there. My community supported me. And I found strength from my mother. The first thing she said to me after she was diagnosed was "I'm a fighter, baby. We can trust God. I gave my life to him long ago, and I do have a deep peace right now. It won't be easy tho, I'll need my number one fan to cheer me." Those words came from the woman I am so much like both from genetics and because she raised me--and I knew that her strength was in me too. And she told me she wanted me to stay in JVC for the rest of my year--so I did.

JVC taught me about love. I fell in love with Casa Dorothy Kazel. I fell in love with Urban Compass. I fell in love with the City of Angels. I saw whole new worlds through my community's and kids' eyes. I found love as Ms. B/Queen Bee/Nay/Shanaynay in a city with so much to offer. I lived and worked in South Central LA, a fact that makes people gasp. People gave it up as hopeless. I found love in that hopeless place. And I found that it was hopeful. I found love in a hopeful place.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

DisOrientation: You Got Off the Boat

DisOrientation is currently happening, meaning there is a lot of reflection going on--how life has changed in the last year, how to say goodbye, etc.

Something that has struck me is remembering the night of August 6, 2011. We had an opening mass for JVC Orientation on the beach and the priest spoke about the story of Jesus's disciples on the boat. Jesus miraculously walked on the water toward the disciples' boat during a storm, and Peter called out, "if it is you, Lord, tell me to get off the boat and walk to you" (on the water, as Jesus was doing). Jesus does, and Peter walks toward him. He then gets scared and starts sinking, and Jesus saves him and tells him he should not have doubted.

The priest took this story to describe the journey we were embarking in our year of JVC. That we would need to have faith to carry us through, but the fact that we were even there at orientation meant that we had gotten off the boat.

Toward the end of orientation, we each got a piece of paper to write a simple reflection of what we learned/would carry with us for the coming year. We wrote many phrases such as "AMDG" or from different speakers we'd had or activities we'd done. We hung them up on the wall at the retreat center. What had continually stayed with me that week was that I had taken this chance, I had gotten off the boat. I wrote "YOU GOT OFF THE BOAT."

We got to DisO today and the retreat center is decorated with many of the things we have made at retreats over this year, including those phrases. Why, I don't know, but mine is hanging on the podium. I hope it serves as a reminder to have faith, and get off the boat.



Saturday, May 26, 2012

Photo Post: Flowers

I've been having trouble writing in this blog lately and am writing more in my personal journal. So instead I offer photos I have taken of flowers in the last couple of months, because it makes more sense to me than words right now.


















Friday, April 27, 2012

8 years.

It has been 8 years since my dear friend Madeleine Grace Paterson-Watt died of cancer. I think of her every day and I will especially tomorrow, April 28th.

I will be traveling to Applegate, CA this weekend for a silent retreat, and tomorrow we are planning to spend the day at Yosemite. I can't imagine a better way to celebrate and remember her life than to be part of God's amazing creation she so loved. I will leave a crane or two behind for her as I did last year.

cranes at the altar at St. Ed's 4/28/11
Madi was a sister to me, and her family is still my family. I think of her and celebrate her life every day.

one of my favorite photos of madi
i love you, my one and only madi <3



Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Anyway (Mother Teresa)



People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.


If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.


If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.


If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.


What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.


If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.


The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.


Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.


You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Trayvon Martin


This week I have spent more pissed off than usual.

Trayvon Martin is my brother. My son. My cousin. My friend. My grandson. My nephew. My boyfriend. My classmate. My godson. My neighbor. My student.

You wouldn't know it by looking at me. I'm white. I will never have the experience that people of color have being immediately perceived as threatening by the color of their skin. I would never presume to say that I understand how that feels. It's not possible. I was born white, by no special talent of my own. I didn't choose my privilege, but I have it just the same.

But I will never stop working for justice. Trayvon Martin is still my family, is a part of all of our families. Every day that Trayvon's killer is not brought to justice, a little bit of all of our souls dies. I implore you to not just let this news make you sad for a moment then you move on to your regularly scheduled life. We cannot sit idly by.

Trayvon was killed because he was black. That was the most threatening thing he had going on. For everyone who thinks we live in a post-racial society, I say, really?! I urge everyone to take a good hard look at themselves--because this didn't just happen in Florida, it could've happened anywhere.

Tomorrow I will be joining a march and rally in Los Angeles, in support for Trayvon Martin and his family. It has been one month since he was murdered, for walking while black. It's not okay. What kind of message are we sending--that someone can be killed for the color of their skin, and there will be no punishment? We cannot let that be true.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Being Ms. B

For the last eight months, I've had an alter ego: "Ms. B." My roommate Jackie has told me that she even prays for "Ms. B" as a different part of me.

This is what I hear a lot of every day:

"Ms. B! Ms. B! Ms. B! I need help! Can I go to the bathroom? Can I play with this? Ms. B! She said a bad word! He hit me! Ms. B! Ms. B! Ms. B!"

Every afternoon, I transform into Ms. B. We have fun, but there are rules. We get to play outside, do fun arts and crafts, have snack... but mostly we have to do homework. And it's not negotiable, not matter how much my 5 & 6 year olds cry about how they don't want to do it. I have to be tough on them, but it would be a disservice to them not to be. At the same time, I make sure each and every one of the children in Urban Compass knows that I love them, that I care about their success and happiness, that I am rooting for them.

We have many volunteers that come once a week; the kids are always sooooo excited to see them. They run and hug them, insist that the volunteers sit with them, play with them, tutor them. I used to feel a little ignored in these cases until I started reminding myself that I have a different role in this. They expect to see me every day. It's a given that I'll be there. I help provide a consistency that they don't have in many areas of their lives, and that is even more valuable. They're not as excited to see me, because they trust that I will always be there, and is humbling knowing I can be there for these kids this way.

Every single day I am amazed by these children. They are so strong, smart, funny, beautiful and incredibly resilient. These kids keep me going in the times of darkness.

I cannot hope to completely change their lives. I am such a small piece of the puzzle, I can only hope to be a positive influence on them. I can do small things, like show them they are loved, they are valued, help them with their homework, provide them a safe place to go after school, encourage them that the sky is the limit. I can only hope that maybe some of those small things might make a bigger difference somewhere along the line; that I can be part of some small change in the direction their lives go.

I am so blessed to have the opportunity to work with these amazing children. They have taught me so much, and I am so proud of the progress they have all made. I love being Ms. B. These kids have so much love to give, and I am honored that some of it comes to me.







Friday, March 16, 2012

Spirituality Night: Closing Prayer

God, Our heavenly mother,

We come to You as humbly as we know how. We thank You for the beauty You have given us on this planet--the sky, the earth, the trees, the people, the love, the art, the generosity, the perseverance. We thank You also for the beauty of pain, of suffering, of fear, of exhaustion, of vulnerability.

We ask that You help us to always remember that we can still find You through the entire span of human experience, through the struggle. Be with us as we seek You out in our daily lives.

Be with us as we live in community. Be with us in our work. Be with us in our relationships with others. Be with us during the "life is good" moments, and in the moments we want to give up.

Thank You for showing us that we are all connected. Help us to always remember that we can always find common ground.

Guide us to the places we will find You, and guide us to find You in places we never imagined.

Bless our community and our work. Bless our families and friends that have paved the way for us. Bless the world and use us to heal the pain. Help us learn from everyone--for everyone can teach us something.

We must remember that You aren't through with us yet.

In Jesus' name,

Amen.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Lessons From One Tree Hill (Part 3)

This is a series on the lessons that have come from the show One Tree Hill, one of my favorite shows. See Part 1 and Part 2.

Sometimes the beauty is in the attempt.


Lucas and Julian are sitting in the park despairing over the fact that the movie they were working on got shut down. Dixon, the crazy director, comes along and shares some words of wisdom:

"Here's the piece of the puzzle you boys are missing. Sometimes the beauty is in the attempt. We took a shot. We gave it everything we could, and we did it well. It just didn't work out. Now when that happens, you got two options. You can sit in a public park pouting and drinking cheap beer, or... you can celebrate the attempt! For the friendships you've made along the way."

I struggle with the fear of failure, of rejection, of being wrong. A lot of people do. I think that is why this moment in the show One Tree Hill was so powerful to me--to remind myself that life is all about taking chances. Sometimes things don't work out, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have taken the chance. Failure is part of the journey of life, and to live a full one, we will fail sometimes. And sometimes the beauty is that we made the attempt in the first place, and that's all we can really ask for.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

"My Rapist Doesn't Know He's a Rapist": A Photo

Lessons From One Tree Hill (Part 2)

This is a series on the lessons that have come from the show One Tree Hill, one of my favorite shows. See Part 1 here.

Another moment I found especially powerful was in season 4. The characters do a project where they learn from their classmates, and then take a picture reflecting the goals, dreams, fears of the other person. Brooke, like many teenage girls, feels that she is not enough. Not pretty enough, not talented enough, not smart enough, not good enough... It is something that even she, the most popular girl in school, deals with. It makes me think of what a world could be like if we didn't have these expectations of perfection coming at us from all different angles.