It's a Saturday night and I'm sitting here alone on the most comfortable couch in my neighbor's living room. A tray of tea ready to be made sits on the coffee table, surrounded with copies of "Maternity Today" and a gigantic candle. This is the site of my beloved homegroup on Tuesday evenings. Tonight though, I am babysitting for my friends as they go out and enjoy some important time together.
Living in New Haven has been full of these wonderful surprises and opportunities. Today even, my roommate and I took a long walk in our neighborhood, saying hi to people we passed, talking about boys, our jobs, and horses. It was finally a warm enough day to take a stroll. Later, we went to an African drumming and dance class that my roommate has been attending. It whipped my arse, but I was grateful for the outlet and for meeting new people.
My other roommate is attending a retreat we are hosting for Deerfield Academy; a school that has a strong Christian fellowship, but with students desiring to go deeper in their faith. I'm not attending because they desired more students and less staff; something I am not offended by at all.
FOCUS has seemed really random as of late - where I must plan everything every week, be hyper-intentional about the time I give to students, and try to drive safely (something unsuccessful accomplished, as I got into a small fender-bender of my own doing this past week). However, ministry continues to be a strange blessing. Even last night, it seemed strange to travel with my staffmate after a dinner at Chili's to attend a school play at a girl's boarding school in the middle-of-nowhere Connecticut. However, after the play, the student we came to support beamed with joy when she saw us, as did another student we met up with during the intermission. This high school actress' parents also applauded us in a way we didn't expect. They had done high school ministry in their younger years and looked at us with compassion and deep gratefulness for the work we are doing. We wanted to say to them, "Really, you don't understand how little we do." But we let it rest and offered up silent prayers to God that He could understand our bizarre lives and gratefulness that only He could reach these students through us, even if we feel like we don't do much.
In other news, God continues to wash sweet balms of healing and understanding upon me as I process experiences from South Africa, the West Bank and other places. In a book I read last year by Henri Nouwen called "Compassion," he describes how the monstrocities of this world can only be understood, prayed for, and responded to through the healing and constructive work of people in community. As I pray about the future and where God might take me, it gives me great encouragement to know that often God places us in places of community for our own healing and other's, and that He desires us to live this way the rest of our lives.
In conclusion, I'm incredibly grateful for this season, but continue to offer prayers for healing, for perspective on my life, and for boldness to step where He may be leading me.
In the words of my Guinean drum and dance instructors this evening, "C'est tout! Merci!"
