A Momentary Breath

It’s been a monumental week. Most notable, most exciting, most life changing has been the birth of my first niece, Grace Pearl. Born May 8th shortly after 8:00 a.m. My sister is a mother, I am an aunt!

Such major life changes take time to sink in, and there is some way in which she will remain ephemeral until I can actually hold her in my arms sometime in July, but already I’m in love through pictures and skype and texts. For once I am unequivocally grateful for technology. I’m so sad to be so far away and comforted by all of the ways that I can still join in even when mediated through screens. And thanks to my recent, long-avoided smart phone acquisition I can even show off pictures wherever I go. Watch out, if you run into me pictures will be shown! :)

When I think of all of the places I’ve been this week I’m a bit overwhelmed and ponderous. Sunday marked three years since we lost Mom to cancer. Monday I had my first Hebrew class and felt like a true M.Div. student. Tuesday I had a soul filling coffee date with a friend from Michigan–right here in Seattle. Then I sat in Old Testament class for six hours, tweaking my thinkings on the creation story and feeling the palpable presence of God resting on our professor and thus the room. Also, getting antsy realizing I just got the “it’s really happening!” text. Wednesday I became an aunt (!!!!!!!!!!), went to work, and finished memorizing the Hebrew alphabet. Thursday I tried (and failed) to finish all of my assigned readings for the week, had a ponderously hopeful end to a deep therapy session, and had dinner with some of my favorite Seattle women, introducing them to my GR friend. And made a new friend in my friend’s best friend and traveling companion (cheers to you if you followed that train), walked through Capitol Hill and didn’t feel lost, and had frozen yogurt to boot.

And for the past two full days I’ve been in my Multicultural Perspectives class attempting to honestly examine how I encounter difference and where racism still resides in my heart. Next month we will have the final two days of class and I expect to have even more to process as I work through all of the remaining material, readings, and experiences. But even now I’m starting to wonder: do I have the courage to become a person not just aware of injustice but an ally in the fight against it? Only time will tell, but I am reminded that in some capacity this may very well be what I was made for. Perhaps we all are.

I have this hope that I will write more about many of the things briefly mentioned in the post above, particularly when it comes to Multicultural class. But, turns out, when in grad school there’s a lot of writing to do and so blog post writing usually gets lost. There is so much I want to tell you. And there’s so much I don’t yet know how to articulate.

Mountains as I once imagined them.

I had a little victory tonight: I wondered what to do with myself tonight that would allow my mind and heart to settle into themselves and was worried that instead I’d numb my soul with television. Then I thought, “I want to color!” and followed it up with actually pulling out my crayons. What a perfect way to give my hands something to do while the rest of me ponders, and what a direct way to connect with the child in me who’s looking for a voice. And so I colored. When I was young I used to daydream about mountains. I’d never seen them, but they were in books and they filled my imagination with wonder. Since I couldn’t see them I would draw them. It occurred to me this week of glorious sun in Seattle, that my childhood dream has come true: I live surrounded by mountains on every side. And on the days they come out of hiding they take my breath away, just like I imagined they would.

Even though it is so hard, life is also so beautiful.