Sick Again?!

Another sick day here in Winchester-- I hope Pastora Martha and everyone else in the community doesn't begin to think me a hypochondriac.

Luckily, by the way they've been acting (bringing me vitamin C/encouraging me to rest/eat soup/see doctors) I'm pretty sure they know it's not in my head.

I just can't seem to catch a break here! First it was cold/poisen ivy; next it was stomach bug; now we're back to the cold symptoms, except tack on a sore throat and the remnants of the stomach flu from last week-- perhaps I'm getting it all out of the way now, so the next few weeks I'll be feeling better than I ever thought possible? It's kind of like that acne medicine-- Acutane-- surfaces every blemish you'll ever have in one big swoop so you experience flawless skin from there on out..

So, although I really am feeling quite miserable, and, even more than that, quite disappointed at not being able to do more or to have more energy for the kids, I'm confident that "this too shall pass" and one of these days I'll be feeling better again and will get to soak up more of the lovely people around me, more of the sights, sounds, tastes, and smells yet to be discovered in Winchester.

I must admit, all has not been completely lost being sick the past few days... I've had the chance to reconnect with my old friend Harry Potter, which has passed the time and added some excitement and liveliness even to these few days spent in bed. Now I'm just hoping I don't get completely hooked again and spend ALL my free time with my nose in a book...

Well, I realize this wasn't my most eventful post to date, but I figured I should keep you updated. Hope this finds you well.

Love and Peace,

Nicole

The Summons

There is a song that's been following me on my journey this summer. It's one I'd never heard before coming to Virginia, and somehow it has found different moments to encounter me and move me over the past few weeks, and to shed light and put words to this wonderful journey I'm on.

It's called The Summons and it's lyrics go like this:

Will you come and follow me
If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know
And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
Will you let my name be known,
Will you let my life be grown
In you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind
If I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind
And never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare
Should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer prayer
In you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see
If I but call your name?
Will you set the prisoners free
And never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean,
And do such as this unseen,
And admit to what I mean
In you and you in me?

Will you love the ‘you’ you hide
If I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside
And never be the same?
Will you use the faith you’ve found
To reshape the world around,
Through my sight and touch and sound
In you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true
When you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you
And never be the same.
In your company I’ll go
Where your love and footsteps show.
Thus I’ll move and live and grow
In you and you in me.


There is something incredibly true and accurate about these words. Somehow, they get to the heart of everything I'm experiencing this summer. Mission truly does call one to go where she/he does not know and to never be the same as a result. It forces one to rely on God's willingness to answer prayer, because it puts those in mission in situations and circumstances in which they can no longer rely solely on themselves or on the people around them. Mission puts those called in contact with present-day lepers, prisoners, and the like, and asks of them to touch, and listen, and heal. Mission reveals parts of one's life that maybe are easier left undealt with; it asks those in mission to forgive themselves, to see themselves through God's eyes, and to be made whole and new in the love God freely offers all of God's children.

I can't begin to explain the amount of growth I've experienced as I journey alongside the people here in Winchester.

Most of all, mission puts a drive, a passion in those it calls to seek God whole-heartedly, to know God on levels they've never known God before, to be more obedient, more consumed, more connected, more in love than they've ever been. Being in mission has made every part of me long to let God in further, to let God's transformation take place in more areas of my life, to let God's joy fill everything I do, to let God's eyes and ears and hands and heart become my own.

I pray that this summer, that this beautiful opportunity to be and not just do mission, will not just be another experience to look back on fondly, but that it will be a catalyst for change in the entirety of my life and my identity as God's child. I pray the lessons I'm learning here, the dreams I am having here, the insights I am gaining, will shape who I am in a way that is irreversible.

I can't begin to explain how blessed I feel to be here, in this place, in this moment-- what a beautiful, eye-opening time in my life. I hope each of you, wherever you are, are seeing, and experiencing, and understanding God in new and exciting ways as well, because there are so many sides to our God, so many mysteries yet to be uncovered. How lucky we are to be let in (even if ever so slightly) on the beauty and wonder that is our God!

Peace and Love and Revelation,

Nicole

Reflection

The pool took it out of me today-- I'm exhausted from head to toe-- but it was worth it to see the kids splash around all day. Most of them can't swim (another thing I realized I've taken for granted: swimming lessons) but they had a wonderful time just the same, jumping around in the shallow end.

I get a day off tomorrow-- hooray! I still haven't decided what to do with myself; perhaps I'll take a jog around Winchester, or spend some time reading, catching up on the letters I need to write, explore more of the city.

I received three letters yesterday and I can't begin to express how excited I was when Pastora Martha slid them to me across the kitchen table. Thank you so much Grandma, Julia, and Hannah and Charles! It was so nice to feel connected to home again, and to hear about the things you all are doing! It's ironic, being away from the people I love and trust most has really caused me to see the ways I remain guarded from them, the ways I refrain from letting people in past a certain point. God has granted me such new perspectives on this journey, though, and I'm confident that God will continue to reshape and refine me, hopefully in ways that allow me to let go of some of the reservations I hold. So if you receive a letter that offers more detail than you ever would have expected from me, just know I'm in the process of learning how to open up more and how to allow others to share more deeply in the things I typically try to carry on my own! (Not that I'm going to throw my whole life's story on you, or all the thoughts/concerns/feelings I have at any given moment, just that I'm working on finding a balance.) :)

Mucho Paz y Amor Mis Amigos y Mi Familia,

Nicole


Some photos from our day at the pool:
(Don't worry, Jeffrey, I kept your camera out of the water!)


The lovely Liliana.


Striking a pose.


Her first time swimming ever! She was all smiles today. :)


Remember the little girl we brought beds to? That's Yasmin on the right.


Bathing Beauty. :)

Loving the Kids!

Another day of summer programming under my belt and I'm thrilled to see where the summer takes me and my new tiny friends. Today we talked about Jesus calming the storm-- I had them stomping their feet, patting their knees, rubbing their hands together, and snapping their fingers while I read the story. They made a pretty convincing storm, and when the child I pulled aside to play Jesus lifted up his hands and called for peace, they all got quiet and took in the miracle.

Kids are just so funny. There's always something to giggle about from their perspective, always something to jump up and down about, something to look forward to. I'm catching more and more glimpses of why Christ calls us to be child-like-- there are just so many things kids get that we adults have lost somewhere along the way. They get forgiveness-- these kids go from being upset with one another to holding hands with the same one they were arguing with in a matter of 15 minutes. They get joy-- they're constantly excited about something (and it's little things too, like going to the park or the pool, or getting to eat popcorn and watch a movie all at the same time.) They get perseverance-- so many of these children come from homes that leave me wanting to throw up my hands just thinking about them; yet they come to the church everyday with smiles, and jokes, and positive attitudes.

There are so many things these children understand, so many things I am still learning from them.

One again, I'm so thankful to be here and to be experiencing all of the many blessings that have come with my stay here. Here are some pictures of just a few of those blessings:


Singing songs in the chapel.


More song-singing (we even tried to throw some sign-langauge in the mix.)


Some of the gang.


More of them (Meredith, I bet you are eating these children up right now!)

Summer Program Drama!

It's difficult to explain the kind of mood I'm in. I'm tired, but giddy at the same time, and I'm not even really sure why.

The past few days have been...interesting.

We started our summer program Monday. The children are WONDERFUL-- only one or two trouble makers in the bunch, nothing we can't handle. They are energetic, and joyful, and so hilarious. One of the little boys today was running around playing a game of tag and holding his pants up the whole time-- ADORABLE!

The people I'm working with are great-- Martha, Pauline, and Linda are too funny to be around. Linda's the queen of little snide remarks, which Martha pays no attention to and Pauline encourages by saying something feisty right back. Needless to say, we have a good time around here.

I have had a difficult encounter with one of the volunteers (and I'm not sure if it's wise to put this out there in cyberspace where anyone can read it, but in the spirit of Anne Lamott, I'm sticking with candidness, for better or worse I suppose..)

So I'm helping the volunteer make copies the other morning and she asks nonchalantly, "How many do you suppose are illegals?" I guess the question didn't strike me as funny right off the bat-- Pastora Martha has been talking to me very openly about the families' circumstances, in order to give me an understanding of where they come from and why. Plus, I figured if the woman's helping with the summer program, she must have a heart for the kids, or a desire to help, a sense of the injustice of their situations, and a yearning to make things better for them. So young, naive me replies, "Oh, I think every one of them. None of the parents put their socials on the registration forms."

And this lady who I think is on our side, who I think is here to help, and nurture, and advocate for these children, rolls her eyes and goes on a rant about "how much public school space these children are taking up, how high property taxes are these days because of it," and how the only reason she's here is so, "maybe they'll atleast learn something here and keep from draining even more money out of the system because they need special teachers who will work at a slower pace for them."

I smiled and nodded, inwardly shocked. I left the room with a, "well I think the copier's working for ya now," wishing I had a backbone enough even just to offer my perspective or to share some of the stories I've learned about these children who have names, and identities, interests, dreams, and reasons why their families are where they are.

I'm trying to let go of the comments she made and be grateful for the set of extra hands (although it's difficult when she sings "God Bless America" everytime the children pass by..); yet God's gentle, patient, loving voice continues to remind me not to judge, or be hardened, or put up unnecessary boundaries between myself and others. I just hope the God that's blowing that voice in my ear will also give me the strength/humility/willingness to do what it says..

In addition to all that hooplah, I've come down with some sort of bug (go figure!) So although the last couple days have been exciting, I'm looking ahead even more excitedly to the days I can work with the kids and feel well, and have the energy to run around and play tag/duck-duck-goose/whatever other crazy games they seem to take joy in. Pray that I get over whatever it is I've come down with and that my immune system kicks in and does a better job in the weeks to come! (Pray also that God can subdue the judgemental side in me this summer, so I may gain a better understanding of where my patriotic song-singing volunteer is coming from, and so we may work together and serve these beautiful children, and let them know they are loved, and valued, and completely priceless, just as they are, in the eyes of God.)

Peace and Love!

Nicole

Blessings

Yesterday was a day of blessings-- not that the day was easy, or comfortable, but the blessings came in the midst of difficult circumstances, which made them all the more moving, all the more real, all the more beautiful.

I woke up at eight, ready to tackle the day. Martha and I went to pick up Carlos (a man I will share more about as tonight's blog session unfolds) and from his apartment we headed to Steven City, a town which borders Winchester and which houses Steven City UMC, the building to which we were headed.

We met Pat at the church, the woman I roomed with over conference. She is a small, lovely woman, atleast eighty and a bit hard of hearing. She has a huge heart for mission, and has been serving people and providing resources for people since she was a young adult. Anyways, Pat called us down to the church because a member of Steven City UMC had recently passed away; before she passed, she decided to leave all the furniture in her house (as well as other odds and ends) to the community that Amor y Paz serves.

As I followed Martha's son's truck out of the church parking lot and to this generous woman's home, I couldn't help but feel incredibly privileged to get to be the hands that moved and delivered this furniture. Talk about walking on holy ground-- the sense of awe and wonder I felt as we hauled sofas, and beds, and beaureaus into our cars is indescribable. How I somehow got to be the messenger of this grace, the deliverer of these blessings is beyond me; yet I'm so glad this church's, this woman's, this community's story has somehow collided with mine, and has allowed me to see God's goodness and loveliness firsthand.

So I told you I'd fill you in more on Carlos at some point, and I think his story is where we should head next. I met Carlos last week. Pastora Martha and I visited his family's apartment to register his daughter, Yasmin, for the summer program. Being in their apartment just about broke my heart. The scent of mildew filled my nostrils before we even reached the doorway-- I'll let that information suffice to give you an idea of what it smelt like inside the actual apartment. Yasmin was taking a nap in her "bed" when we arrived-- an old, tattered mattress, that was stained and basically falling apart. There were no sheets, no blankets, just her small, sweet face pressed against the dirty mattress.

And if that weren't enough to choke me up, the whole apartment was lined with bags-- no furniture really, just bags of stuff. I'm not sure if they were trash bags, bags of food, clothes, or what, but they were everywhere. There was nowhere for Yasmin or here little sister Evelyn to put their clothes, no place for them to sit really, no place for them to draw, or read, or play. I stood there stunned, stifling-- in part because of the heat of an apartment with no air conditioning and in part from the sadness of it all, the injustice of it all, that these little ones who are no different than me, no less valuable than me, no less precious, or innocent, or deserving of care, could exist in such a torn, broken, filthy place.

After signing Yasmin up for the program that day, I have to admit I had my thoughts, my judgements about their circumstances. I thought maybe Carlos wasn't working hard enough, maybe he didn't care that his daughters were living without so many of their basic needs met. I'm ashamed to admit I thought all these things, that I judged him from just one small encounter, but I definitely did. Granted, I figured the system didn't make it easy for him, but even considering all the factors that are presumably working against him, I still wondered why he wasn't doing more, why he wasn't doing better, why his daughters had to share a dirty, greasy, beat-up mattress every night.

So now enter Carlos into this new day, this day that we are going to move furniture, to load up our cars with books, and linens, and coffee tables. Carlos and I worked side-by-side most of the day. We were the only two really capable of moving the heavy furniture (Like I mentioned, Pat is in her eighties and Martha has had some serious health problems within the past few years). So he and I worked together to move sofas, bookcases, beds, dressers-- you name it. We laughed while we tried to maneuver large pieces of furniture through narrow doorways or up flights of stairs; we grunted when things got heavy, took breaks when our bodies needed rest, smiled and tried to communicate though we didn't speak each other's languages.

Carlos is from an indigenous group of people from Hidalgo, Mexico. His people speak a dialect of Spanish that is almost completely distinct from the language the rest of the Latino community here speaks. It began to make sense why things have been so challenging for Carlos and his family. Not only is he working against the issues normally confronted by immigrant families, but he is doing it without any support, without any real form of community or family, because even those who would be glad to help can't understand him, can't communicate with him or his wife enough to offer any real form of assistance. Plus, on top of all that, I learned that Carlos suffers from some sort of handicap, some loss of hearing in one of his ears that resulted from an accident a few years back.

So here I am, confronted with all the details of Carlos' story, working alongside him, seeing his work ethic and willingness to help and to volunteer his time firsthand, and all my previous thoughts and judgements seem so shallow, so predictable, so far removed from this man who is smiling at me, laughing with me, pushing, and pulling, and lifting any and every piece of furniture that comes our way.

And now comes the most beautiful part of the day, the part that brings tears to my eyes even now. Before we left Steven City, Sra. de la Rosa pulled me aside and told me to drive to Carlos' apartment. She told me, "He doesn't know it, but the beds he just tied to the roof of my car are for his girls."

So I followed Martha back to Winchester, to this tiny apartment, and as soon as we stepped outside, Carlos ran up the steps, got his family, and began unloading furniture he thought was going to other families, into his own home. Yasmin and Evelyn ran up and down the stairs with each load, giddy smiles shining across their faces. We threw away their mattress. We cleared space for two beds. Martha and I assembled the beds together as the whole family stood close-by, in shock by the transformation their apartment was going through. I called the girls to my side and opened the bags that held their new bedding-- beautiful pink and white quilts with green floral sheets and pillowcases. Their faces lit up. They marveled at the quilts' patterns, at the colors, the designs, the softness of these things that were now theirs. Until this sacred, indescribable moment, I never really considered a bed, a blanket, as things one could take for granted, but seeing these girls feel so lucky, so privileged to have their own beds, their own sheets, their own comforters, changed that perception and caused me to broaden my understanding of privilege and of gratitude.

I called my mom after getting back in the car to leave Carlos' apartment. I wept the whole way through our conversation; I'm surprised she could even make out what I was saying through my cracking, shaking voice. She told me how happy she was for me, how she knows it's these types of moments that I live for, and she's so right in saying that. I've never felt more alive than when I was putting together these beds for Yasmin and Evelyn. I've never experienced more joy than when I looked in their eyes and saw gratitude and wonder, or when I looked over my shoulder on my way out of the apartment and saw them each tucked under the covers, giggling and kicking their feet from all the excitement. I've never felt more in tune with who I am and with who God wants me to be than when I left the tiny apartment, sat for a moment in Martha's car, and let it all soak in.

What an incredble, holy thing to take part in. I thank God that I have this opportunity to live here in Winchester, to be a part of this struggling community, to somehow (because of the relationships and the trust Martha has built with everyone here) be let in enough to see their challenges, their hardships, their pain-- the vulnerable pieces of their lives that threaten to break them, and discourage them, and keep them from realizing the worth and potential they have as children of God. I feel nothing but gratitude towards everyone here for allowing me in, for carving room for me in their lives, even though so many of my own experiences create so many potential barriers between us.

Thank you, God, that you are one who breaks down barriers, and who does not allow the things that stand between us to remain in place. I'm so grateful to be experiencing, firsthand, the ways in which you make all things new, fresh, redeemed. Continue to lead, and teach, and use me. Amen.


Other blessings of the day:

My supervisor Pauline and her husband brought me their car to borrow for the weekend. It was a completely unexpected surprise and will allow me to explore Winchester, and let my introverted-self have some time on my own.

One of the women in the community sent me dinner at the church tonight. First off, the meal was delicious-- she made sopas, which are homemade tortillas topped with frijoles, cheese, onions, and some strips of chicken. Even more than having happy taste buds, though, I really took this as a sign of welcome and hospitality. At first I think the community (though very welcoming) was a bit unsure about me. With the women especially, I felt like they were wondering about me, my intentions, and the ways I approach/view their community. So this meal meant so much more than a full stomach to me. It really came as a symbol of love and acceptance, a gesture that fully recognized me as welcome in the community, worth thinking of and taking care of. Again, this whole day and all its experiences has made me feel richly blessed. I hope wherever you are, you, too, are experiencing God's rich blessings and providence.

Peace, Love, and Thankfulness,

Nicole

I'm Back!

We've returned from Annual Conference (actually, as of Wednesday we had returned, but it's been quite the whirlwind around here, so blogging was pushed to the back burner). But I'm back and ready to share my stories!

I journaled some while we were at conference so I wouldn't forget the things I wanted to share, so hopefully you'll get some of the high points, though I could probably write a book about all the things I heard, and saw, and thought, and smelled, and ate (the United Methodist Church is all about table fellowship!)

Sunday:
I was able to attend worship this week (last Sunday I was in bed with a cold and covered-- we're talking, arms, legs, stomach, FACE-- in poisen ivy).

I cannot begin to describe how eye-opening worship was, not even because of what was said or sung, but because I found great power and insight in the comfort I felt worshipping alongside people I've never met before, and yet people I've somehow been in community with since my baptism.

Montague United Methodist is a small congregation that shares a church building with Amor y Paz. The pastor there is passionate and animated-- I'm convinced I saw the walls shake in response to the rise and fall of his booming voice. He's a small man, almost frail-looking man, but boy do his vocal chords work when he's preaching about the Lord!

There was something almost romantic about being in that church, reciting liturgy, singing hymns, praying alongside people whose names I didn't know, yet people I somehow felt incredible connected with. God has really opened my eyes to how enormous the kingdom is. It's easy to recognize the ways God is moving in my life, in my communities in LaGrange, or Peachtree City, but coming here and hearing the stories and seeing the fruits of God's work in Winchester (a place I'd never even heard of until recently) has really caused me to understand God as much bigger than the things I percieve, much bigger than the churches, and movements, and people around me.

Of course, this is something I think I recognized on a cognitive level: I know God is in all things, in all places, among all people. It's just that actually experiencing the far-stretching reaches of God's love and providence is something entirely different, something powerful, moving, eye-opening.

I've been shocked at how comfortable I am here, at how "okay" I am here. I thought for sure I would miss home, thought for sure I would feel out of my element, and I'm sure my words will never convey the extent to which I feel at home, even amidst people I barely know. I guess that is what has been so beautiful about this experience. I've gained this new understanding of the church. The church isn't just Dunson United Methodist; it isn't just Peachtree City United Methodist; the church is Montague, and Amor y Paz, and all the other congregations around the globe that recognize, and love, and worship the living God. And with this realization has come incredible confidence that no matter where I go, no matter how far from home, from family, from my safety nets, I will always have a bigger, greater, more complete home and family in the church. A part of me used to think this wasn't true, that I would always long for the "home" that's always been defined a certain way for me, but God has continued to stretch me, to open me to new things, thoughts, and ideas, and living in Winchester has certainly convinced me that as long as I have God (which, thank goodness I always will) I really am, and will always be, more okay than I anticipate, more confident, more whole, more joyful than I ever could imagine possible.

Monday:
I'm at conference and once again I'm blown away by the extent of the United Methodist Church. It's hard to believe that this is just the Virginia Conference. I can't even begin to explain the number of programs I've heard about, the number of congregations, outreach initiatives, support groups, fundraising campaigns, relief efforts-- the list goes on and on! The number of people who have been touched, and helped, and reached out to is astronomical, and, once again, this is JUST VIRGINIA.

I'm at this incredible place in life in which I am just thrilled with the United Methodist Church, and even more so with the God that calls, and leads, and guides the church. Entering college, and even attending college, I became extremely critical of the universal church. It's just that my eyes were suddenly opened to all the things I felt society had tried to keep from me for so long: inequality in education, the reality of poverty, healthcare, continued racial discrimination, the huge disparities between the have- and have-nots, the way our system allows for and even perpetuates those disparities, AIDS, genocide, child-soldier issues-- I'm getting overwhelmed just thinking about it all.

Hearing all this, knowing that all this could exist in the lives of God's people, broke my heart and made me so upset and so angry: First, that no one had told me about any of it and Second, that we weren't dedicating every second of every day to overcoming hunger, providing healthcare to those who need it, reforming education, saving child soldiers, ending wars, making peace, healing wounds. I felt this huge weight on my shoulders, so large, so heavy, that there were times I felt immobile and unable to breathe.

So I can't even begin to explain how touched, how moved, and how empowered I feel to see this church I've come to love so involved, so concerned, so active in helping the sick, the downtrodden, the rejected, the oppressed. And again, that's just in Virginia! And earlier in the summer, it was just at GBGM. I can only imagine the joy and empowerment I would feel if I could somehow see and know about ALL the programs of the church, ALL the ways we are helping, ALL the ways we are giving, serving, loving in God's name.

This whole experience has allowed me to abandon the place of judgement and disillusionment I was experiencing toward the church, and to enter a place of excitement and wonder, a place of willingness to learn about the programs, support the movements, be involved in this big, beautiful church body that is working to make the world more peaceful and just, and that invites me to join in and share in the task.

Tuesday:
I took the morning off today. As much as I've loved conference, I needed some time to digest everything, plus the arena we're in is so cold I just didn't think I could take much more of it!

It was good to get some extra rest and to catch up on some of the journaling I wanted/needed to do. After rejoining the group in the afternoon, I was able to sit down with Pastora Martha and my supervisor, Pauline, and begin the planning process for the summer program. I am getting so excited to begin working with the children. I feel like there is so much room to get my creative juices flowing, to continue to understand what it means to be in community with people, to work as a team, to come up with programs and activities that excite people, and that send the beautiful message the we are all God's-- rich or poor, black or white or brown, English-speaking or not, open or not, understanding or not, kind or not, intelligent or not, confident or not, immigrant or not.

I hope God continues to deeply ingrain this message in me this summer, and that God continues to expand my understanding of the faith.

Wednesday:
We returned home today-- yay! It was a great experience being at conference, but I must say there is something about Winchester that has stolen my heart. I'm glad to be back to familiar sights, sounds, smells. I'm completely exhausted, completely on knowledge/insight overload, and I'll go to bed tonight thankful for the opportunity to attend conference and thankful for my safe arrival home. :)

Pictures

Here are some pictures from training-- I finally found a way to load them onto my computer so I'll have to start taking pictures with the kids.



Dana-Beth, Melanie, and I on the subway.



Hannah and I in Central Park.



More of the intern gang in Central Park.



More Central Park..



For you, Jeffrey. :)

Los Angeles

Today has been a tiring and wonderful all at the same time.

Sra. de la Rosa and I hosted a slumber party last night-- Elena and her little sister Jesabel spent the night with us. We had a wonderful time grocery shopping together, preparing dinner, and getting ready for bed. The girls woke up with us at 4:45 this morning to pick more strawberries for the Latino community. We pulled up to the church at 5:30 in the morning and I was shocked to see a group of 10-12 people waiting for us. That's one thing that has really impressed me and really stuck with me about the community here-- they are ready and willing to help Sra. de la Rosa with anything she needs; they are eager to be involved, even if it means rising before the sun to spend hours in the fields picking fresas. Seeing such dedicated, hard-working people has caused me to reflect a lot about my own work-ethic, my own willingness to jump in and volunteer especially for tasks that are less than appealing to me.

Anyways, the strawberry picking was tiring but rewarding. The best part is retunrning home and driving through the Latino community, asking anyone and everyone, "?Le gustarian fresas?" There is much to be said about providing food for people who struggle to put it on the table. Sra. de la Rosa is constantly sending bread/pastries/fruits/drinks home with people. We walked into church the other morning to find boxes and boxes of bread/cakes/doughnuts.

I asked her, "Pastora Martha, where did all this come from?"

She replied, "We have many angels, Nicole."

And being here, it really does seem like there are angels in our midst. Food comes from nowhere and we are able to send it home with people who truly need it, people whose faces show their gratitude and the relief they feel to hold a bag of food or a box of produce in their hands that they can bring home to their families. I have learned much by being here, by watching, by listening, by serving.

I am so grateful to live in community with everyone here. I am even beginning to feel part of the community. The more I'm here, the more I understand the things going on around me, the more I can communicate with and relate to the families I'm in contact with, and the more the children around me open up to me and trust me with their thoughts and worries, their joys and their fears.

Thank you for your thoughts, your prayers, and your comments on my blog. You have no idea how wonderful it is to receiving such encouraging words, and to see messages from familiar names.

Tomorrow we leave for annual conference in Roanoke, VA. I'm not sure if I'll have internet access or not, but I'll get you up to date eventually.

As always, Paz y Amor. -Nicole

Reflection

Today was a beautiful, restful, refreshing day-- exactly the kind of day I needed to regroup from the frustrations and doubts I felt yesterday.

Sra. de la Rosa left me at the house in the morning. She took Elena to another doctor's appointment, this time to take a look at some trouble she's had hearing over the years. The two ended up getting caught up at the doctor's and then at the church for most of the day. This left me time to rest, read, pray, write-- everything I love, everything I needed to regain a sense of confidence in why I am here.

I've begun to re-read two very valuable, insightful books to me: Henrey Nouwen's In the Name of Jesus and Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. Both spoke volumes to me and really met me where I was this morning. Nouwen's words encouraged me once again to let go of my need to be relevant, and to own my identity as God's child apart from my accomplishments/abilities/talents. I needed to hear that my identity rests solely on God's great love for me, because if left solely to my relevance here in Winchester, I'm afraid I wouldn't be worth too much. It's so difficult having a language barrier to confront; not only do I feel inadequate at the church working with parents, but also at home-- Sra. de la Rosa's son and daughter-in-law are both deaf, so I spend much of my time around them smiling like an idiot, wishing I could ask them questions, hear stories, but feeling completely limited by my lack of knowledge and skill as far as Sign Language goes. The beautiful thing, though, is that God is forcing me to deal with this need I have to be relevant by making me completely irrelevant. I literally have nothing to rely on here other than my vulnerable self whose presence I offer and hope, in turn, the community will accept and affirm simply because I, like them, am God's.

And you know, so far they have. Everyone has made me feel so welcome and accepted. Naomi, Sr. de la Rosa's daughter-in-law, sat across the table from me for an hour and asked me questions, helped me sign, read my lips when I had trouble. And when we had nothing to say to each other she just sat and smiled at me, showing me that she understood and didn't blame me for not knowing more, for feeling uncomfortable, for sitting and smiling awkwardly back at her.

On top of having to grow, and having to accept that my worth rests not in the things I can do, the tasks I can preform, the facts I can spout off in a meeting or class or crowd, God has given me a yearning for God's presence and assurance that I have not felt in a long while. Feeling so insecure throughout the day has caused me to cling to the moments I spend in prayer and devotion, the moments I feel completely affirmed, adequate, accepted. Bonhoeffer says righteousness must always come from outside ourselves, from God's Word spoken to us, and I'm learning, at rapid speed, the truth of this insight. My adequacy will never come from myself because I will never be able to be all things for all people, will never be able to be perfect or all-knowing at any one thing (can't believe it took me 21 years to figure that one out..) So really, the only place to look is to God, to Christ, to the one who created all things, looked upon all things, looked upon me, and said, "It is good."

Trusting in that voice of love and affirmation is the most challenging, most beautiful thing I've yet to do, and it has become even more of a challenge and even more of a joy since I've arrived here in Winchester and been thrown out of my comfort zone and onto a path I've never traveled before. Pray that I find endurance for this incredible journey God is leading me on.

Until Tomorrow,

Nicole

Frustration

In the spirit of Anne Lamott, (whom I've been reading lately) I'll be blunt: yesterday was frustrating.

I'm not used to working 12-hour days, not good at saying no, not used to the foods here, not comfortable with the language, not connected with Jeff (his phone has been broken for the past 3 days and I'm missing out on Ichthus, and the arrival of his CDs, and anything else exciting that I've yet to hear about). The introvert in me is still figuring out how to be around people all day long and not be entirely worn out (especially because I'm working alongside a 60-year-old woman who has diabetes and is in remission from cancer and who seems to have more energy and a greater capacity to give than I can seem to muster up). I'm not used to feeling inadequate, insecure, or just down right dumb.

So there's my vent session, Anne. (I think you'd be proud, though you may have sprinkled it with some curse words or other unforseen offenses had you been the one typing).

As good as it feels to get all that out, I want to be clear: It's not that I'm not excited or grateful to be here, I am, wholeheartedly, but I'm still getting adjusted to life in Winchester, still getting acquainted with the different cultures that surround me, still learning to be comfortable in someone else's home, in someone else's community, as part of someone else's life.

I do think God is teaching me to stop being so ridiculously independent. I'm used to being able to rely on myself in so many different areas of my life-- now I have to rely on others for just about everything: food, transportation, direction, scheduling, the ability to communicate with the people around me. I think the need for so much dependence just hit me all at once yesterday and left me feeling incredibly frustrated and inadequate in certain regards.

I love that Pastora Martha asks me to jump in and participate even if I am not entirely prepared to do the things she asks of me. Like yesterday, she had me calling homes of people who strictly speak Spanish, telling them about the summer program, and asking them to come to the church to register their children. Okay, not that hard of a task, IF I UNDERSTOOD/SPOKE VERY MUCH SPANISH! After a few calls I got my end of the conversation polished up nicely-- I knew how to say what I wanted to say-- but I certainly wasn't prepared for the fast-paced tongues flying back at me on the other end with questions, comments, concerns, none of which I understood or had even the faintest idea how to respond to.

I think I'm just used to your typical American culture. Everywhere I've ever worked or volunteered, we've valued efficiency. Get the most qualified person to do the job, and the class/business/program will run smoothly, the customers will be satisfied, and everyone will go home feeling good about themselves. Well, apparently Sra. de la Rosa has a different view of how things should be run here at Amor y Paz. She involves everyone, well-equipped or not, asks all to contribute, to participate, even if it means leaving our comfort zones, feeling insecure, making fools of ourselves.

I guess I'm just in the process of learning how to be a fool and be okay with it.

Loving Winchester

Today was another jam-packed day con Pastora Martha. (I'm definitely coming to the realization that every day with Sra. de la Rosa will be filled to the brim, which I have to say is exciting and beautiful because this woman truly gives every day to God, and the church, and the community around her).

So today, as I'm learning is the norm, we did many things. First, we took one of the girls from the church's after school program to the doctor's office. Elena (or so we'll call her) has had trouble seeing and hearing for many years now. Unfortunately, doctors have refused to see her up until today because she has no social security number, and they fear getting involved in the whole immigrant situation. Sra. de la Rosa has been working with the family for quite some time now, trying to get all this resolved and get Elena the medical attention she needs, but it wasn't until the school called (trying to involve social services and claim that it's Elena's parent's fault that she has not had proper medical attention) that Sra. de la Rosa was able to get all the necessary paperwork for a doctor to be willing to see and to treat Elena. Needless to say, it was an exciting day-- watching the doctor's office accept Elena, seeing her mother's relief when they did not object to treating her daughter, taking them to pick out Elena's first pair of glasses. The whole experience really opened my eyes to all the things I take for granted, and to the ways I am still naive to the experiences and challenges of the families I am now living in community with.

After dropping Elena and her mother off, Pasora Martha y yo went to the church to meet the ESL class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I had the chance to meet more women in the community, and once again they were very kind and welcoming, though the language barrier definitely still exists. I racked my brain trying to think up conversation starters, and we did make some small talk, but I'm definitely hoping to develop my social skills as time goes on.

After preparing snacks for the ESL class, Pastora Martha and I took two of the mothers to the social services department to ask about the Medicaid forms they were waiting on. Again, the whole experience opened my eyes to the things I've never had to think or worry about-- it's one thing to think about Medicaid on a level removed from the people it affects, but to see the little boy who can't get in to see a doctor because someone has yet to send the promised documents to his parents is a whole other ball game.

Pastora Martha got things figured out for the families rather quickly (they should be receiving their documents in the next week or so) and we were on our way to a 4th grade graduation ceremony to support some of the children in the community. (I forgot to mention that all this time Sra. de la Rosa has had me driving the church's 15-passenger van. I told her I'd need to practice before I cart the kids around this summer, so she pulled off to the side of the road, hopped out, and had me "practice" the rest of the day. Though I can't say my idea of "practicing" was carting around mothers and their babies, still completely insecure about driving such a large vehicle). Pero, we made it safe and sound, and I even parallel parked the thing a few times. :)

After the graduation ceremony, Pastora Martha, Jaqueline (a beautiful 5-year-old nina who I became acquainted with throughout the day), and I grabbed a quick bite to eat, picked up Sra. de la Rosa's car from the shop, and headed to the church for the after school program. The children came shortly after we arrived-- they are smart, energetic, and so much fun to be around. We played games, ate dinner, got to know one another. I also had the chance to meet a number of volunteers who work with the children-- everyone is so kind, so giving, so in love with the work they do.

After the children went home for the day, I played with Jaqueline and her brother, Carlos, while Sra. de la Rosa met with some families from the church. Once everyone had filtered out, we dropped the kids by their house and headed home where we made some coffee, looked at pictures together, and talked about all the people I had met throughout the day.

I am falling in love with the people here, the church, the community-- everything. I love that I've begun to use Spanich articles when I'm speaking in English; I love that I pulled up to Sra. de la Rosa's house today and thought how good it was to be home; I love that I get to say to the children, "Hasta pronto," and really know that I'll see them shortly; I love that they call me Miss Nicole, love hearing the stories that surround them, love waking up and wondering what Pastora Martha will have in store for us, who we'll get to talk with, drive around, give food, or time, or listening ears to. I love the ministry of presence Sra. de la Rosa has created here in Winchester. I am learning so much from the people, the encounters, the stories-- I can't wait to share more as the summer continues. I hope all is well at home.

Paz y Amor Mis Amigos y Mi Familia,

Nicole

GBGM

I've been meaning to share about my trip to GBGM (General Board of Global Ministries) for quite some time now, and I finally have a good amount of time to sit down and reflect, so here goes:

Our intern class visited GBGM last Thursday, and I think it's safe to say that each of us were blown away by the experience. After taking a couple subway trains from Alma Mathews and walking a few blocks down Riverside, we arrived at a building that hosts agencies from various denominations (GBGM being one of them). As I walked in and received a visitor's badge from the front desk, I couldn't help but feel like I was entering the Ministry of Magic or something (Sarah, I know you'll appreciate this, as will any other Harry gurus). It's just that everything at GBGM felt so underground-- I heard about and witnessed programs that I never knew existed; I saw diverse people working together to promote change and reform around the world; I saw beautiful pieces of artwork, entire office spaces dedicated to mission-work, healthcare, disaster relief. It's the most incredible thing to think these people have been doing these wonderful things right under New York's nose, with little praise or publicity, because they feel compelled by their faith to engage in the work they do.

I think being there blew me away, too, because I hear so much about the negative aspects of society and the church-- I know all about the ways the church isn't living up to its call; I've read countless reports about the disparities that exist in America, the tragedies that occur around the world, the people who are suffering and who are in need of help and support, and I just have to say that it felt so good to see such far-reaching programs of ministry, aid, and support-- programs that have been doing good for years and years without feeling the need to make a big hooplah about themselevs.

Not that I think the church can be proud of GBGM and stop there; of course we can always grow, always expand, always redefine the ways we are reaching the people around us, but for someone like me, who gets overwhelmed thinking about all the needs in the world and wondering even where to begin, it was a beautiful thing to see a building of people dedicated to making the world safer, more just, more beautiful, and to see a list of outreach programs that went on for pages, and pages, and pages, and pages...

I am so pleased to say that I left GBGM feeling incredibly hopeful. There are so many beautiful people on this earth who are making an impact across the globe. Is that not an incredible, refreshing realization?

I think it becomes so easy to get stuck in the "we could be doing this" mentality and sometimes I think God may want us to step back, take a breath, and wonder at all the beautiful ministries that are taking place around us. I definitely had one of these moments after visiting GBGM-- a moment that God allowed me to be encouraged and inspired by the brave, hard-working, passionate people who have made the church feel alive, magical, to me once again.

La Communidad Latino

So I finally got to meet members of the church and community today, and I'm so thrilled to be here!

This morning Pastora Martha, some ladies from the community and I went to pick fresas (strawberries). The church is active in a "gleaning" ministry-- they pick different fruits as their seasons die down and then bring all the fresh produce back to the families of the church and other community members. It was such a rewarding experience to go to the fields, work to find the best strawberries, and then deliver them to various families around the community, eat them with the children's Bible study group, send them home with anyone and everyone who stopped by the church during the day.

I won't say that I felt completely in my element today-- there were many times I just had to smile and nod because everyone around me was speaking Spanish. But, you know, I don't even see this as a bad thing. It is amazing to be engulfed in a new culture, to have to strain to keep up, to pick up on words, expressions, jokes. And the women here are so kind-- they didn't try to make me feel like an outcast; so many times throughout the day they would catch my eye and smile, making sure I felt welcomed and atleast somewhat part of the group.

And communicating and interacting with the children is just what I need to keep me from being discouraged by the language barrier between myself and the adults in the community. Pastora Martha and I took the kids to play tennis and to have a picnic this afternoon. They were so welcoming and funny, such joys to be around. I am truly looking forward to spending my days with these children-- though I could definitely use some ideas/resources for coordinating a child's summer program: anyone have any game/activity/lesson ideas?

All in all, I feel so grateful to be here. Somehow in only two days I've already begun to feel at home. Sra. de la Rosa is so inspiring-- I feel so privileged to have the opportunity to live and work with her, to learn from her insights and be moved by how diligent and unceasing she is in serving the people around her. Pray that I have the energy to keep up with her!

Mucho Amor. -Nicole

Pictures!

Here are some pictures from training:

Summer Intern Class '08-- aren't we cute?



Showing what we're made of in Central Park.

Winchester

I journaled the other day about the rest of training and about our trip to GBGM, and I'm going to transfer that to blog form one of these days, but right now I'm so excited to be at my site, to be with Sra. de la Rosa, that I just have to talk about Winchester and get you all caught up later.

So I arrived yesterday night after contracting poisen ivy, coming down with a cold, and having a 3-hour plane delay. :)

Needless to say I was exhausted, but I was so warmly welcomed (the children I will be working with this summer had made me a huge yellow banner and Sra. de la Rosa, my supervisor and another volunteer all greeted me and helped me carry my luggage) that I began to feel better just by being there and by being surrounded by such kind, loving, welcoming people.

We stopped for Mexican on the way home from the airport-- Sra. de la Rosa is so funny; she seems to know every town by its Mexican restraunts. Apparently the city we'll stay in for annual conference has a GREAT Mexican restraunt, so good that I've been guaranteed a meal there sometime next week.

Living with Sra. de la Rosa has been wonderful. She is so thoughtful. She bought me flowers to make my room feel inviting; she showed me pictures of her family, told me their stories, shared with me her own.

I spent most of the day resting. Sra. de la Rosa took me to an urgent care facility in the morning. After running by the pharmacy, she dropped me back by the house and left for the church. She leads the Spanish worship service at 4pm and then sticks around to be present with the families and to drive people home if they need it. She left around 12 this afternoon and did not return until 8pm. My supervisor warned me that Sra. de la Rosa stays busy (the result of a huge heart and a desire to meet as many needs as she possibly can), but I was amazed when she came in so late and still wanted to take me to the grocery store to stock up on foods to make me feel more at home. We had a wonderful visit on our way to and from the grocery store, and during dinner she shared with me about her call, about all the places God has led her, about the struggles she has overcome. She assurred me that God will eventually "hook" me and pull me into my calling, until then I wait. :)

Some things I learned today:

In El Salvador, they don't use the terms Senora or Senorita; instead, women are called nina-- Nina Nicole, Nina Martha.

An expression used when you get ready in a hurry: Manitos de gatos. (Picture a cat tidying itself up with its paws).

Understanding/Reflecting Upon Culture

Today we discussed the concept of cross-cultural mission, and the ways we interns (as soon to be strangers, guests, of a new community) can be self-aware, and how we can best interact with the people we will soon be living in community with. There are so many things I took from the day, so many pieces of insight that made be stop and take time to be reshaped by them. Because there is so much I have learned, so much I want to share, I've decided to try a new approach to blogging: Rather than spending time trying to wrap things up and find smooth segways, I'm just going to share snipits of my day, and forget about trying to draw out broad thems, create clean lines, make in-depth connections, etc.-- I think all of these things present themselves and I'd rather just spend my time sharing the beautiful insights I've encountered throughout the day and let them touch you as they've touched me. With that said, please forgive the choppiness (I guess, on an up-side, it does seem to reflect the way training has worked the past few days-- moving from one thing to another with little time to process..)

So today Dr. Glory Dharmaraj visited us from GBGM and spoke with us about mission work (how we do mission in the 21st century and how it has been done in the past). Glory is a tiny Indian woman who just radiates with love, and joy, and knowledge-- May Jean (a fellow intern here) probably described Glory best tonight when she called her "a gem of a woman who exudes so much life that you can literally see beams of light coming from her." I have to say, first off, that it is just such a privelege to meet and to interact with people like Glory (and with people like May Jean and all my fellow interns for that matter). I sat listening to Glory's stories today, listening to her insights, and feeling so blessed to hear from someone who has done it, who has experiences the things I have so far only dreamed about, who has been traveling the pilgrim's road longer than I have and who is stopping to give me some thoughts to chew on, some direction, some hope for what's to come.

The image I took with me most from Glory's presentation was her description of mission (historical mission, more recent mission, and mission today). She asked May Jean to stand up and assist her in demonstrating mission. First, she described mission of the past (she as the missionary, May Jean as the native people); she said: "May Jean, get behind me, follow me, and I'll show you what we need to do, how we can better your situation." Then she described more recent mission: "May Jean, take my hand. Let us walk side-by-side and do mission together." Lastly, she described mission today, the mission she hopes we will engage in in the coming months: "May Jean, lead me. Show me what is going on in your community; tell me about your struggles; let me know if and where you need a hand."

Is this not beautiful insight? I am not entering Winchester, VA as a godsend, as a messiah, as a bringer of anything; rather, I am entering the community there as a guest, as a listener, as a set of extra hands willing to jump in when asked, willing to resist when not called upon.

In a way, this insight took a lot of weight off my shoulders. I've worried about being ill-equipped, knowing there are interns here who know more Spanish than I do, who have worked with children before, who can stomach Mexican foods! Yet realizing that mission is more about presence than anything else has really freed me from these thoughts. The people in Winchester are not asking for someone to come in and perfect their summer program, for someone to impress them with her language skills, for someone to relate perfectly to their children-- they are asking for someone to listen to their struggles, to hear their stories, to share their journey with them, and to bring the lessons of that journey home with them when their paths part at the end of the summer. And, you know, I feel like (with God's help) I can maybe handle that.


In addition to hearing from Glory, we took a trip to the Bronx this afternoon to meet with the leaders of an organization called Youth Ministries for Peace and Justice. Stepping into the Bronx was quite the experience-- our group was immediately labeled OUTSIDERS. Just by seeing our group (which is predominantly, but not all, white) onlookers could tell we didn't fit, that we were merely visiting, that we would soon have the luxury of hopping back on the subway and returning to a different level of comfort and safety than community members in the Bronx experience. One teen waiting for the subway even called to his friends upon seeing us: "Look! Tourists!"

It was a difficult, harsh reality to step into: blatant racial barriers, obvious socio-economic disparities, personally feeling like the outsider, the stranger, the oppressor even.

Hard as these things were, though, I do think they were incredibly important and valuable to me as I continue to consider my role as a person of faith in a nation and a world that has so much inequality sewn into it.

The people at the center furthered all the things Glory had taught us this morning-- it was amazing to hear the same bits of advice and wisdom coming from people from different backgrounds, different circumstances, different walks of life. The director of youth programs advised us to listen, to rely on the community to lead us in the direction it needs to go, and not to take up a "God-complex" by thinking we have come to save the day, or that we, somehow, are more capable of change and progression than the community members that have been there from the beginning.

The center had a beautiful mural that surrounded our group as we sat and dialogued with our new friends in the Bronx. The walls portrayed an accessible Jesus for the youth in the Bronx-- a Christ who was born in an alleyway, baptized in the Bronx River, gave the Sermon on the Mount from a fire escape, served the last supper barbeque-style, was arrested by white police officers (a portion of the mural that saddened me and made me realize that the feelings of comfort, safety, and rescue that I associate with police officers are completely contrary to the feelings of fear and anger experienced by the teens and youth living in the Bronx).

As I sat pondering things, wondering about the perspectives and experiences of the people who surrounded me, my eyes took hold of the final scene of the mural: the resurrection. For me, this depiction of Jesus as whole, glorified, resurrected spoke volumes about the ultimate connectedness of us all. The resurrection scene covered the last bit of wall space-- it was the artist's last stroke, the final word, and the portion of the mural that seemed to connect me to everyone within the youth center and everyone beyond its walls. Though I may not connect with or understand a Jesus growing up on the Bronx, preaching in its streets, I identify and know deeply the resurrected Jesus-- the one that breaks down all boundaries, the one that brings life and beauty and hope to the arrest that saddened me and made me feel so separate from the youth and teens who look at this mural everyday and feel as thought it tells their own stories.

I think each of my experiences the past couple days have managed to fill me with the hope of the resurrection, the hope that walls can be broken down, communities can come together, people can find common ground, change is possible.

I'll end with the words of challenge Glory offered us before she left:

Ministry, mission, discipleship-- all are simply "seeing the image of God in those who are not in our own images."

May we strive toward this beautiful, inclusive, boundary-breaking goal. May we see God in those around us, and may our actions reflect the worth and sacredness of those we come in contact with. Amen.

Training: Days 1 & 2

So I've arrived in New York City along with 14 other interns and I'm officially in love with the city, with the people around me, with the mission ahead of me.

There are so many things I could share, so many personalities here I could expand upon, so many great discussions, thoughts, sites, restraunts, experiences-- and I haven't even been here for over 48 hours yet! I'll try to note the things that strike me as most important and save you on the nitty gritty details so as not to overkill this whole blogging thing.

Yesterday was certainly a whirlwind-- from saying goodbye to my family, to Jeff, and the girls (plus Chris), to arriving in New York, meeting my fellow interns and our leaders, orienting myself with the city, the living arrangements, the pace of our schedule-- by the end of the day I was exhausted, but alive at the same time, overwhelmed, but incredibly hopeful and certainly full of excitement, anticipation, joy.

One of our leaders, Suzanne, shared with us last night the passage in which Jesus calls the disciples into ministry. She reminded us that just as the disciples dropped their smelly fishing nets that day and chose to follow after the voice that called them, so too did we leave things behind and respond to a call. This realization made everything we are doing here, everything we are each preparing to do in the next couple months, incredibly holy. I began reflecting on how truly challenging it was to pack up and leave (to leave my family and all the reasons I thought I could/should be used at home, to leave the man I love knowing that I'll have to miss out on big moments in his life, moments I wish I could share with him, to leave my friends, my routine, my comfort zone) and, as I reflected on these things, I felt a connection with and understanding of the disciples that I've never experienced-- what a beautiful, sacred thing it is to answer a call. What a scary, difficult thing it is. What a challenging, exciting, hopeful thing.

I read a book of Joan Chittister's about Ruth before bed last night, and she took this sense of leaving things behind and articulated the beauty of it all in an incredible way; she says:

We learn that loss is simply the invitation to begin another life, to take on the rest of life, to develop the fullness of the godlife within us.

And also:

Loss, ironically enough, is the catalyst of newness, a doorway to other parts of the soul, where what lies dormant in us comes alive because come alive it must.

I think the most exciting part of the things I've lost (atleast for the summer) is the anticipation of the ways God must change and develop me as a result. My safety nets are gone and all I can do now is open my eyes, my hands, my heart and see what God has in store for me.

There are so many other things I want to share-- we had an amazing discussion about social justice and charity today; we walked around Greenwhich Village; I learned interesting things about the people I am here in mission with-- I promise to share more later, but for now I think I'm heading to bed (so thankful to be here and so hopeful for what is to come).