transforming.

Last night, a team of 45 construction workers descended upon the Mission, hammers and paintbrushes in hand, to do a little transformation. Being quite the fan of observing things and people transform, I was excited to see what might be accomplished.

Soon after all of the men had arrived, their foreman motioned for them to circle up. For the next fifteen minutes or so, clients from our house stood before the group and shared their stories. One guy talked about his learning to take small steps toward recovery, recounting his trail of bad decisions and expressing a humble gratitude for the positive steps now being taken. Another of our male clients spoke of a heroin addiction that had taken everything that he cherished most, leaving him broken - but how trusting in Jesus had set him on the path to freedom. Two of our ladies testified, as well, to the good taking place within the walls of the Mission - and in their individual lives - during their time of residence. Each person, when finished, received the kind of resounding cheer that can only emanate from a group of loud, excited, slightly rough-around-the-edges construction workers. Hanging back and snapping some photos, I watched quietly as one of God's everyday miracles took place: men and women were vulnerable, and they were accepted.

One of the construction crew later said that he saw himself in the clients' stories, though he'd never been addicted to any substance or lived on the streets. I share in this man's sentiment, having felt many times over the past few months that, all things considered, I'm just not all that different from the clients that we serve. No, I'm not an alcoholic or an addict - but I struggle, I fall, I doubt, and I'm fearful far more than I'd hope to be. Just like many of our clients, I rely on God's grace to uphold me.

to be continued (with pictures!)...

photogenic.

Slowly, over the past month or so, Boston has begun to feel a little more comfortable - and, on good days, downright homey. Some of you Southerners might scoff at this concept and worry that I've grown delusional up here in the land of Red Sox Nation. While I'll give you that New England isn't exactly hospitable (the below-zero wind chills proof enough!), Boston has this undeniable charm that's hard to match elsewhere, at least in my experience.


I'll let you be the judge.



pretty streets after a snowstorm.

the state house, after said snowstorm.

this is downtown.

I just like this shot. :) it was taken near the Harbor.

cute houses. i happen to live nearby.









I was riding with my roommate last weekend on the way to a wedding reception. About halfway to our destination, she turned onto a road that snaked beside the Charles River for a while. I cross the Charles every day en route to work and, though I find it a welcome diversion from the dark subway tunnels, haven't been overly impressed. This day, however, something about the way that the late-afternoon sun shone through the trees and illuminated the water caught me off guard, and I found myself thinking, "Wow. I live in a beautiful city!!" I've been told that it only gets better as Summer approaches - so, I'm pretty excited. :D

When I'm not admiring my surroundings or discovering one of the many hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants around where I live, I'm likely doing one of three other things: working, playing, or churching.

Work is both incredibly challenging and fulfilling. I haven't ever done anything as hard or as wonderful as spending 40+ hours a week at the Boston Rescue Mission. Already, I've seen numerous men and women relapse, return to the streets, and continue down the path of destruction. Each time that it happens, I find myself wishing that I could somehow impart the strength needed to stand against the pull of addiction - and, then, am quickly reminded of my own frailty when faced with such obstacles. Thankfully, I've also been witness to the beauty of men and women succeeding in their recovery. I'm learning from them that it's important to deal with my struggles one day at a time, trusting that God is my portion and will give me, as Jesus prayed, "my daily bread."

My play time has been limited, but I've been having a lot of fun when I DO have a free few minutes. Through my roommates and co-workers, I've met some great people who have pretty much taken me under their wing, inviting me to lunch, dinner, parties, movie nights, and so on and so forth. I'm pretty much convinced that I couldn't have picked a better group of people to hang out with. :)

and as far as church goes, I've been visiting one of the Presbyterian variety for about a month and a half. It's different from what I'm used to in more than a few ways, but I'm really enjoying it - and, hey, different is generally a good thing in my book. :)

so, to wrap up - Boston is pretty. Work is challenging. Life is good. <3

paradoxical.

My heart is alternately heavy and light.

My heart is heavy when I come face-to-face with the heartbreak and hopelessness encountered daily by my new friends at the Mission. It's heavy when I come face-to-face with my own stubbornness, pride, and weakness. Some days, it's heavy merely due to the strength-sapping busyness which has become my constant companion.

But this lightness of heart, while elusive, carries me forward. The experience of beauty in the midst of suffering is truly a sight to behold, unexpectedly causing my heart to jump into my throat and tears to spring to my eyes.

My heart is light when I see hopelessness encountering God's hope, the kind that is everlasting. It's light as my weakness gives way to a strength much greater than my own, unexplainable yet beautifully appropriate to each task at hand. And, sometimes, the busyness ceases to allow for a moment of peaceful reflection, seemingly over the most random of subjects - the kindness of a friend, a quiet walk home in the snow, the sound of voices lifting old hymns to the heavens. All lift my heart.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Jesus, Matthew's gospel

inspiring.

Tomorrow, the 21st, I will have been in Boston for one month - and, friends, what a month it has been. :) I came to Boston with no small number of expectations, and high on the list was the assumption that this move would bring about a period of self-reflection. If you know me well, you'll recognize that it doesn't take much for me to go there - often, a good film or a conversation with friends will move my thoughts in the general direction of the inner life. That being said, moving to Boston and working alongside both the staff and clients at the Mission has offered a unique opportunity for insights into the workings of my mind and heart.

Living in Boston thus far has been both wonderful and exceedingly challenging. So many changes have taken place over a relatively short period of time, which sometimes leaves me feeling like I'm just trying to catch up. I'm adjusting to walking and riding the subway everywhere, living off of a VISTA stipend (and, as of today, actually following a budget), and being in an urban environment 100% of the time. I no longer have the option to hop in the Camaro, crank up the latest in my revolving collection of favorite tunes, and drive off into the sunset. These days, I can't simply run across campus or drive across town to meet up with a friend.

This new place, though, is the fulfillment of my dreams for the last two years (dramatic? yes, but nonetheless true!). I get to live in a fabulous city, with skyscrapers and wonderful food from all over the world and a snazzy public transit system. I don't have to worry with the concerns of the upkeep and insurance of a vehicle. And I get to work with people who desperately need to know that someone believes in their ability to change for the better - which, because of God's grace shown to me, I absolutely do.

For those of you who pray, I'd like to ask for prayer for a couple of things: first, I'll be spending part of Christmas Day at the Mission with our clients, many of whom are estranged from their families. The holidays are an especially rough time of year for those dealing with addiction. Will you ask that, on Christmas Day, God would strengthen the hearts and will of these men and women? My hope is for them to know, in a very real way, the joy of the season. If we take seriously the teachings of Christ, people like our clients - former addicts, prostitutes, and others forgotten and ignored by society - are seen as infinitely valuable and welcome to participate in God's work of new creation. Isn't that what Christmas is about, anyways - God's good news breaking into the human story and opening the way for something beautifully new? Second: I am hoping to do some case work during my time at the Mission, and it seems that this might happen sooner rather than later. Though working directly with the women clients is something that I'm passionate about doing, I'm still a bit nervous. As I learn more about what it takes to be a caseworker, would you ask God to give me an open, teachable spirit - both when it comes to spiritual and practical insights?

By the way, it has been snowing all day yesterday and today and is currently 20* (but feels like 7!) It has actually warmed up a bit from this afternoon. I sincerely feel happy to be here at Christmastime - yes, it's terribly cold and kind of yucky, but beautiful. I'll post pictures soon.

poetic.

Peace Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon,
Where there is doubt, faith,
Where there is despair, hope,
Where there is darkness, light, and
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Saint Francis' prayer sits on my desk at the Mission. It was here when I arrived and has been a source of encouragement to me thus far in my journey. May God grant all of us the desire and strength of spirit to be an instrument of his peace.

melodic.

Though my main focus at the Boston Rescue Mission will be to organize, streamline, and implement new policy for the operations department, this week was intended to be a more general orientation to the Mission's various programs. In that vein, Tuesday afternoon was passed helping to make preparations for the 3:00 meal (open to the public) and 4:30 meal (provided for our clients who are enrolled in either our detox or prisoner re-entry program and live at the Mission). I was assigned the task of peeling sweet potatoes and butternut squash along with two clients, Amber and Hanna. Amber, though friendly, was on the quiet side. Hanna, on the other hand, was outgoing and funny. I liked her immediately.

At first glance, I don't have too much in common with our clients. Many grew up in abusive homes, where manipulation and drug abuse were commonplace. Most have dealt with addiction of some sort - alcohol, cocaine, heroin, OTC drugs. All have lost much. A deeper look, though, reveals those qualities common to us as human beings: the need for acceptance, love, security. It is from this place that I begin the process (which is quite simple but feels complex in this new context) of getting to know the clients.

As Hanna and I went about our potato peeling, we made small talk, chatting about the weather, the Mission, our hobbies. She told me that she loved music - "all kinds!" she insisted, when I asked about a favorite genre - and that she liked to sing. As quite the music-lover myself, I suggested that we sing something to pass the time. Hanna seemed to perk up at the idea and asked if I knew any Christian songs, to which I responded that I did, in fact, know quite a few. "What about All in All?" she asked, and we began to sing. In recent years I've taken a liking to more traditional sacred music, and in turn have discounted many modern praise and worship songs as lacking in depth, musicality, or both. As I sang with Hanna, though, I delighted in the realization that the simplicity of the chorus was beautifully relevant and accessible to us both.

You are my strength when I am weak
You are the treasure that I seek
You are my all in all
Seeking you like a precious jewel
Lord to give up, I'd be a fool
You are my all in all

Jesus, lamb of God
Holy is your name (2x)

Taking my sin, my cross, my shame
Rising again, I bless your name
You are my all in all
When I fall down, you pick me up
When I am dry, you fill my cup
You are my all in all

Hanna and I kept singing, discovering that we knew many of the same songs. After a few minutes, she revealed that she had been attending church services in prison and had been encouraged by the music there. I'm reminded of the story in 1 Samuel (in the Hebrew scriptures) of King Saul and a young David. The King was tormented, according to the scriptures, by an evil spirit. David, in the service of the King, would play his lyre, bringing relief to the King's weary mind. Though the times and circumstances are different, I think that music is as powerful today, capable of bringing rest to the spirit of she who is in dire need of such. I was inspired this week to think creatively about ways that I might bring a greater appreciation of music to the Mission and to our clients.

This is gonna be fun. :)

new.

Today was my first day at the Mission. I was introduced to most of the directors (finance, IT, programs, operations) and met with several of them, including my immediate supervisor, Win. Win's an older guy, probably a few years shy of 60, but has the energy of someone half his age. He heads up the Operations department, the area in which I'm going to be working, and I have a feeling that I'm going to love working with him. First of all, he suggested getting to know one another over a cup of coffee at the Boston Beanstock Coffee Company (my kind of guy)! Second, he has this really beautiful way of viewing the Mission's clients (a term used here to refer to the homeless individuals who come through our doors). Win "spoke from his gut," as he kept saying, reminding me of the upside-down nature of the kingdom of God as expressed in Scripture. He talked about how many passages in the Bible speak to the ease with which the poor and humble see God's kingdom. In other words, the poor - whether in possessions or in spirit, as Jesus spoke of in his sermon on the mount recorded in Matthew's gospel - are in a unique position in which to receive God's blessing.

I can't say that I understand much of this yet. I am, however, starting to realize that this year working with the poor will change me. I'm quite sure that I'll see and experience things that I haven't before. I'll be called upon to embrace a greater sense of interdependence among those with whom I'm working (when I'd rather, oftentimes, attempt to go it alone), and I'll be consistently expected to step into roles and relationships that are less-than-comfortable.

Though I can't anticipate what lies before me, I am so happy to be here. For the first time in several years, I think, I truly feel that I am following my heart. When I was heading up the prayer ministry at the BSM during college, I was struck by this passage in Isaiah's book:

The Spirit of the LORD God is upon me, for the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound. ESV

Some of you will know that Luke records Jesus reading these words of the prophet at the commencement of his ministry, implying that he was the fulfillment of Hebrew scripture. In both instances, it touches my heart that God desires such things for his children: healing, freedom, release from the chains that bind - ultimately, wholeness. Is this not the kingdom coming on earth as it does in heaven?