many children in my Father's house: our task of non-violence as a way of Life

I nearly always feel overwhelmed when i sit down to think of how to share my life with you all by using my words or my stories. The truth is, life is so much more than this. Life, for me these days, has been the quiet moments where i find holiness etching its way into all the mess here, slowly chipping away at the walls i have built around me after all this time...so much good is here, and what a gift. i'll share what i know, for today--

Me and Erin moved from our Karen friends apartment in February. It felt like our time there was coming to a close, for us and for them. Our common life together was a time of so much beauty, as we shared meals and singing, washing dishes and playing violent pseudo power ranger games with the boys, helping with homework and walking to and from our neighbors’ homes and dollar general. Thanks be to God for their hospitality and humility, and for allowing us to see that although they grew up in a Thai refugee camp and got married when they were 14, they are not so different than us. They laugh at the same things, suffer in the same ways, and long for the same love we all long for. So after six months of sharing life and a home with our new friends, and with our friend Heidi’s arrival in Clarkston in January, we found a new place tucked away in the corner of one of Clarkston’s largest and most diverse apartment complexes. We have been living here about 4 months now, and oddly and slowly this place has become our new home. It has become for me a home I never knew I needed so much. We have Nepali, Karen, Sudanese, Chin, African American, and Togolese neighbors. We have kids knocking on our door constantly and many days there’s a serious game of caneball happening right outside our door. We have formed relationships with many people, and continue to make new friends every day. The three of us are some of 5 or 6 white people who are living in a complex with nearly 700 apartments. We fill our days helping out our neighbors in whatever ways we can, filling out applications, sharing meals, and just learning how to live together in this peculiar place. I often garden with 15 kids at one time, chew betelnut with a group of Karen women, get welcomed into new homes for dinner, and take van fulls of neighborhood kids to our community’s Friday night open play gathering.

The longer I am here, the more difficult it becomes to explain my days to my friends and family who are living life elsewhere. The rhythms of this community are unlike any place I have ever known, and I so long to use the right words to share the beauty, the pain, the poverty and the richness of life here with all of you. I am learning life is simply--life, wherever you go. We are living in a unique place, yes, but we are not so special. A friend said to me yesterday, “We could choose to live a thousand other lives, and sometimes we want to, but we don’t have a thousand lives to live-we only have this one and we must be faithful to this one life, or we will miss all that surrounds us. We cannot be looking to the next thing, or we would end up in another place never REALLY being in the place we were before this one and before that one.” This has become my life here---to learn what it means to live life not lusting after the next thing, not constantly wondering what my life would be if I were someplace else, with someone else, doing something else. The truth is- I am here, and there is so much good work being laid before me. I have realized, at some point, if we want to remain faithful to the call before us to live true lives of love, we must commit ourselves to a particular place and to a particular people. In this—a web of connection is formed that is not easily broken, and lives are all bound up together in all the ugliness and beauty that rules our human journeys. If you ever read this blog or share with me in this road of life in any way, I am thankful to you this day for binding your story with mine. Life is so short, and so dear.

 I want to share a story of something that happened recently, a story that has quietly wounded us and required of us honest answers to life’s most serious questions.

It’s 11:30 on Thursday night a few weeks ago. I am sitting in my bed, feeling the cool draft outside penetrating our too thin walls. My roommates are asleep and our box fan is on as it is every night, in order to drown out the unending BET late night shows of our neighbor upstairs. By the lowlight, I am reading a book about the Nickel Mines Amish community in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. What I find hidden within these pages in the muddled late night moments of this Thursday night, is a story that would begin to hold me and speak truth to me in the hours and days that would follow what was about to happen outside our front door. About the time the moon was assuming its fullness in the city sky and our rowdy streets were beginning to quiet, I found myself reading about a man who was preparing to enter this peaceful Amish community and bring with him a violence that would not soon be forgotten. (I would later finish this story and know that not only did he take his own life on this strange morning in October of 2006, but he also took with him the lives of 5 young schoolgirls.)

As I was reading about this man’s preparation and routine on the morning of the shooting, I was instantly startled to hear, in my own room, three distinct, surreal, and very close gunshots from outside my window. I quickly jumped out of my bed, and shut off my lamp. In that moment, I was caught between two equally unfamiliar places: 1) wrapped up in a story of violence and forgiveness that was more familiar than it seemed, and 2) jolted to consciousness by the quieting and disarming horror unfolding just on the other side of one, thin wall. I whispered loudly to my roommate Heidi to wake up. I said, “Did you hear that?….” She said no, that she had heard nothing. I told her I was nearly positive that I had heard three gunshots just outside nearby. Heidi was forced quickly into alertness and we began discussing what we should do.

We have learned in hard ways, by living here, we are all bound up in the stories of this place and of the people who we call our friends and neighbors. We live closely, on top and under and around so many different people. Our building houses 8 different families, and up towards 30 people. These stories define us, our similarities and differences, our humanity and our fear is what makes who we are. One of these stories we have chosen to tie ourselves to is a family who lives a few doors down from us. Since moving to this new apartment complex, we have been suspicious of this particular group, seeing various activities near and around their apartment that would lead us to assume there are things going on there that would suggest we keep our distance. And we have, in some way. This does not mean we do not share our daily moments or stories, we have in fact shared many kind and honest conversations with those that live there. However, we have not had this family into our home like we have many others, and we have not shared in meals or music or time in the garden with them. When I heard the gunshots, my mind went to this family and fear seized me. We wondered if we should even call the police—would our own safety be jeopardized? Would the cops want to come and knock on our door to get more information? Is it right to put ourselves and our neighbors at risk by putting what we know in the light of this dark situation??

In a few short minutes that seemed so long, we decided it was best to call. We ended up giving an anonymous report and finding out that others had already called to report the shooting. We called back about a half hour later to see if more information could be shared, but they had nothing. We three finally went back to our beds around 1, laying down for what would be a very sleepless night. We woke up the next morning to find bullet holes in our neighbors’ window. We wondered now…is everybody okay? Did the police ever come? Is someone hurt and no one knows about it? We did not know the answers to nearly any of our questions. All we knew is, if our neighbors are in danger, we must take up the burden to make sure we have done what we can to dispel fear and bring peace back to this place we call our home. We had a few more interactions with the police and with property management, and found out the family had already been asked to leave and find another place to live. No one seems to be hurt, but people remain fearful and imagine the worst.

The past few weeks I have spent my time studying Martin Luther King’s six principles of non-violence. We have planned to use this framework for our Wednesday night “Peace playground” we will do here at our apartment with some help from the youth group at our church this summer. Before last Thursday night I would say, “yeah, I believe in non-violence as a way of life and I try to make it my life and my work here.” But as these events unfolded on Friday and on into the weekend, I began questioning…do I still fear for my life? Have I, in the deepest and most dark places of who I am, maintained some sense of self-protection and a belief in violence as a means to save my own life and the lives of my friends? The question became for us….if we believe in what we are doing here, and if we are choosing to know life here in all of its goodness and harshness, aren’t we, too required to take up the hard work of remaining faithful to the call of Jesus before us? And for us, for me, these words of Jesus require me to tear out my fear and release my very life to the forces of love, a love that does not use or fear violence.

On Friday morning, we decided it was best for us not to stay the night at our apartment for a few days. But as we were walking to our cars, and putting all we ever needed into our backseats, I felt I was betraying the truth I came here to bear witness to. My other neighbors here did not run away, because they have nowhere to run. But we did run, I think because we still have one hand grabbing this world and all its empty promises.

I went on a long and silent hike on the Saturday following this strange event. In my time alone, with the woods and the water and the green, I heard the voice of Jesus asking me if I was ready to follow Him wherever He may lead, even into the dark places where violence is louder than peace, where it rules our homes and cities and the places we walk each day. This voice was asking if I was willing to stand up and fight with the quiet and unfamiliar voice of nonviolent love and mercy. A love and mercy that still looks these same neighbors in the eyes and sees them for all the are and for all we hope they could be. I saw one of the people of that apartment a few mornings ago and although nothing of the shooting or the move-out was mentioned, I still felt something holy and true in our few moments together. Only through God’s grace for me and for this friend, was I able to stand before my neighbor and still know love for him, and to feel no fear. We are all a part of the Beloved Community, if we will but release our fearful grip on this world, we could fall into the frightening freedom of God’s grace and mercy and find a life we never knew could be ours.

I do not know exactly what happened that Thursday night here in our little place of the world. But I do know that we are now being asked to answer a question that Jesus and his disciples and all those who have lived and died for the sake of love and justice in the world have answered—a question that is answered by normal people like you and me every day around the world-- Are we taking the Gospel of Jesus and eating it in such a way that it is becoming our very self, the center and life of everything we do? Are we willing to not only believe, but also live as if the powers of love are stronger than the forces of violence, that there is always life after death, and that the Gospel we preach leaves no room for fear? I pray, I beg, to our Good Father that this may be true for me and for the life I know here. I hope to be so bold to behold the power of Resurrection, even here. For this is the life I have chosen to know, if I don't choose the way of non-violence as a way of life, then the forces of darkness, death, destruction and fear will continue to hold us and our neighbors as captives. If we do not choose this, then we do not know what it means to proclaim Jesus, and to partake in His Resurrection. 

I pray to the good God of peace that we are able to answer these questions today. That honest life surrounds you and that you are desperate to embody and become the life and body of Jesus of Nazareth, in your own way, in whatever inch of earth you call home. Let us become a body dedicated to peace and a people committed to the Gospel of love.

Father, find us in our death, and resurrect us to your truth and to your freedom this day. 

Peace of Christ,

Holly.

For further reading on how forgiveness can change our world, find the book Amish Grace and be reminded of the generous Gospel of love.

The best way I know: King’s six principles (and one of our own)

Nonviolence is a way of life for courageous people. It is a positive force confronting the forces of injustice, and utilizes the righteous indignation and the spiritual, emotional and intellectual capabilities of people as the vital force for change and reconciliation.

The Beloved Community is the framework for the future. The nonviolent concept is an overall effort to achieve a reconciled world by raising the level of relationships among people to a height where justice prevails and persons attain their full human potential.

Attack forces of evil, not persons doing evil. The nonviolent approach helps one analyze the fundamental conditions, policies and practices of the conflict rather than reacting to one’s opponents or their personalities.

Accept suffering without retaliation for the sake of the cause to achieve the goal. Self-chosen suffering is redemptive and helps the movement grow in a spiritual as well as a humanitarian dimension. The moral authority of voluntary suffering for a goal communicates the concern to one’s own friends and community as well as to the opponent.

Avoid internal violence of the spirit as well as external physical violence. The nonviolent attitude permeates all aspects of the campaign. It provides mirror type reflection of the reality of the condition to one’s opponent and the community at large. Specific activities must be designed to help maintain a high level of spirit and morale during a nonviolent campaign.

The universe is on the side of justice. Truth is universal and human society and each human being is oriented to the just sense of order of the universe. The fundamental values in all of the world’s great religions include the concept that the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice. For the nonviolent practitioner, nonviolence introduces a new moral context in which nonviolence is both the means and the end.

There is Life after death.

It seems that a key principle/belief of Martin King has been left out. That is that as a Christian, King believed in the resurrection of the dead. That there is life after death. This belief is not only central to the Christian life, but to the way of nonviolence. Resurrection is the vindicating force that affirms our belief that life will always prevail, that good will always overcome evil and that God, the giver of life, will reign victorious over the powers of death that rule our world.

A twenty pound bag of rice sits idle on the floor, abandoned by the heavy day.
baw baw's eyes are weak and tired, like the pavement and streetlights outside.
we sit, waiting to feel more alive, but the longer we wait, the more sadness seems to seep in. and stay.
underneath the laughter, there is still so much pain, too much pain to be told in stories. 
I linger in my thoughts and wonder if He can hear it all, when these walls are so thin. 
the shoes are strewn, here and everywhere, right beside our little hearts
we are afraid to die before we are able to give our lives away to something good.
raw meat in the pantry, mismatched clothing all about,
what is life supposed to be anyway? there is no right way or wrong, only what we've known
but what we know may not be right at all, we may be all wrong in fact.
and we see so much, but we let so little in. we are people who know nothing at all.
so the dawn brings a stale promise of what we thought we deserved. of things we thought we knew.
and life is the same no matter which square inch of earth you claim,
pain is everywhere, in everyone
and in the end, i suppose the wretchedness of darkness is the same in every soul.
here, and everywhere there is always something that doesn't seem quite right.
today, something is breaking, and i cant tell if it will mend or shatter.
today, even our words seem as silence.
please tell me, my dearest ones, we don't have to stay asleep, do we...
there is still some color left, there is still yet a voice that's louder than our own.
the light coming in through the blinds from the pale light outside,
it is truth. it is hope, if we will let it be.
the roads we walk within these walls, and every other wall, must bring us some strength.
being alive is not so easy, staying alive even harder.
but open your eyes, you are standing in the bright light.
let it in, let it all in.
yeshua, help us to be free.

.....For my new friends here, for my new home here and this quiet room that holds so many secrets, and for all of those who watch or weep this night, expectant of a new hope and a new life, these words are for you, however jumbled and incoherent they may seem.

These few days have seemed dim, as the family I have learned to love and live and walk beside are having trouble finding the light. I am learning, families are the same everywhere, and men and women are men and woman no matter what language they speak or whether they grew up in suburbia america or in the jungles of thailand. please pray, if you are willing this night, for our dear friends who are searching for hope and truth in their marriage and in their family. pray that God's light will find them soon, and His peace will sustain them for the months to come. I dont know what to ask, so I don't know what to tell others to ask, but perhaps simply ask the Good Father to be present in this place, as He already is, that we would see Him and know Him here even now.

Peace to all of you tonight, even if the road seems dark. the one step we take this very minute is lit with all the light we will ever need. We are loved, and in this we can rest.

So.....what? hello hello to friends near and far and farther. I've decided to post some pictures of life's recent events, to share the good story of love and adventure and children and people with all of you. Today, on this rainy and brightly cloudy day in Georgia, I am knowing that God truly is good. i know today that no matter where I go, or who I go there with, that the constant Spirit of our Father is near us always, teaching us of His ways in silence and in peace. I am learning greater of contentment that is not defined by circumstances and of community that is not defined by proximity. Although I struggle still, I am seeking with eyes that want to know all people as brothers and sisters, to deeply be content with all His children as community. So here the sharing goes...

 

saying a goodbye for now to rach and jon, our SOKO friends who are sooooo kewl. Orenmanida.

I said goodbye to two good friends headed to South Korea for the year. They've left only a few short weeks ago and already my heart longs to know them again at those places that we all knew so well. Missing already our dear Istanbul and those familiar rooms at the bungalow and eating out of the same bowl. "Commmuniitttyyyyy!!!!!" You. Two. So dear to us all. We are already missing you and thinkin of you walkin those tea fields and eatin that kim chi and reminding us from so far away what it means to live life alive and free. We said goodbye, for at least a year, and maybe more. Who even knows...Rachey might have a little vineyard-Hill babe by the next time we see them (too soon for that joke or what??)

I'm missing this place so much these days, and will I guess for a long time, and maybe forever. This was the place where the good gift of community was handed to me by the most delicate hands at a time when I was needing the great peace and silence of Jesus. To all of you who shared life with me there, I am holding you near in my heart these days as the definition of community is still changing and growing within me. I owe you all my life for teaching me so patiently about the honesty and difficulty and joy and truth of living a common life together. I've come a long way my friends....I may still use your toothbrushes, but I have learned how not to vomit my crap all over your spaces. (the cave was my greatest teacher)

The Bungalow and its big and bright and comforting red front door. Surely, a house of peace. To all my sisters still hangin around that sweet place, peace and love to you all.

A funny, funny child.

On Friday nights in Clarkston, there's something called "Friday Night Game Night." Now, previously in life, I have tried to stay far, far away from things resembling camp and camp-like activities, and while this game night is actually not an exception to that, I feel like its a place where I can learn to get out of myself and the annoyances I wish I did not have. These two girls in this picture have already done just that for me. Candy Ree, who lives with Sage in the Lakes here, is the spunkiest little thing I ever did see. She could make anyone feel like loved in the best kind of way. Eh Wak, the dear child, was glued to me like sticky rice (bad joke, yes but ive eaten so much of it here!!) I am knowing here that even when you think you have spent and wasted all your energy and capacity to show love, there is still more there, in the light within the darkness.

Candy Ree from Karen State and Eh Wak from Sudan. My friday night game night friends.

The laundry mat at Indian Creek Apartments

This is a real thing. Many, if not all, of these refugees are coming from places that do not know or use or even care about modern appliances. The washers and dryers and dishwashers and microwaves go unused in many of these places. Instead, the bathtub is used to wash and the bushes are used to dry. I'm starting to think...that's the way it should be, right? Mom, do not be concerned if I come home to visit and begin dunking all my clothes in the tub and lying them in the driveway to dry...it might just be the better way :)

this kids in our house and some neighbors.

The kids here, I can't even say in words how good and pure and precious they all seem to be. Kids are kids everywhere, and I know that they still can be what all kids are capable of being, but they too are different. They can sit for hours, resting in the contentment of one toy instead of 20, and will eat anything put in front of them. I keep telling people here that i will never be content again with an American child (except maybe my niece and nephew). I will just have to follow through on either a) adopting many foreign children, b) raising my children in a foreign country, or c) marrying a refugee man.

Person number 10 on lice removal day.

This story is worth an entry all by itself, but I am so over lice that I cannot give them what they deserve. Last Monday...we pulled into our complex to see Baw Baw picking thru Heth a Pleh's hair...come to find out, not only does everyone in her family have lice, but everyone in our family does also. No problem...in attempting to meet our new friends in the middle between Lice as a very big problem if not taken care of and Lice as no problem at all when living in a refugee camp with no other alternative but to live with it and let the bugs do what they will, there were many misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Many patient moments and translators later, Erin cleaned our apartment top to bottom and I spent ten hours de-licing everyone. We are still walking down this adventurous road...with our last treatment planned for tomorrow. I am now a lice professional and have a skill that many people cannot boast about. I am thankful in some kind of way for this.

Zach, our only american friend in our complex.

It is good here to know other Americans who have the same vision and are seeing with the same eyes as us. Zach is a good man who has and is dedicating so much to the family he is living with and to this community.

Yes, Baw Baw's hair almost touches the ground. And yes, she did have lice. oh. my. goodness. Also, Pag a Phoo Bleh, the child whom I wish had come from my own womb.

This is the child that I want as my own. I tell Baw Baw every day, "I'm going to steal Pag and never bring her back. She's my baby now." Interestingly, Baw Baw does not seem opposed to the idea ( I owe it to four children and one on the way.)

Protest for Troy Davis in downtown Atlanta, a deathrow inmate in Jackson set to be executed tomorrow night. He is innocent.

This is a story worth knowing. You can go here for more details. In this, I am deeply thankful and aware that all we can do most days is to offer a little hope where we can. It may not be much, but it's all we can do.

Gloria, the most beautiful of them all.

Our neighbors right across the way from us have the most beutifula and welcoming family. Their daughter, Gloria, is so beautiful it makes my heart hurt! Okay!

The family we are living with. They all four got on the new bike. I'm very surprised they are still alive.

This is another picture of the family we live with. father and his three sons. They are teaching me what it means to live a life of sacrifice, and what it is to live AS ONE.

From the hands of our sisters, a meal of many meals.

Sitting around this meal, with my white and "yellow" friends side by side, I was knowing deeply of gratitude. To simply share a meal, and life with others, is the best gift I know.

Praise God, the Creator, Redeemer and Giver of LIFE.

Ta blu doh ma!

I'm sittin here in this coffee shop trying to know something worth knowin. Ya know what I mean? I'm just trying to feel my way along, one little step after another, as I try to open my eyes a little wider and see His great light one little ray at a time. I've been wondering the past week...what are we all doing anyway? Why are we living this strange and exhilerating and painful and joyful life? I've been realizing now more than ever that at the very bottom of things, we are all the same. In our truest, deepest selves, our hearts are all alive and simply and only desiring some part of the truth of life. We are looking into the eyes and space around us in hopes we can be led to something more true than the darkness inside of us all.

This place, Clarkston, GA is a world where I have seen the light of life flash brightly before my eyes. I've been awakened, rather shaken, to see the great goodness in this one square mile of the earth, and my heart knows no greater joy than this. I am still learning of the ways I am still asleep to God's workings and love, and I am deeply thankful to be in a place where I am called from the depths of my own grave of blindness and sameness into a world much different than others I have known. I have spent this week around a woman who although she has been to less than half of the schooling I have, knows greater and more truly of life's fruit and knowledge and wealth and breadth and depth than I may ever know. She is only one year older than me, and spends her time as mother of three, wife of ten years, cook, and cleaner. And while she does all these things, she is busy taking care of everything else that comes with being in a new country and learning a new language. After all this, this sweet woman still stays up late with me to practice vocabulary. She knows something of contentment that I have yet to learn. She has been to the great depths of pain and has learned what it means to empty herself for those around her. She has not only seen the necessity of sacrificial living, but has adopted it as her mantra, as the only way. I wonder...how does she do it? I can barely know any satisfaction in work I choose to do, much less in the work before me that I have had no part in choosing for myself. I'm asking the Lord, the Good Father of both me and Aye be wah, to show me how to be more like her. To teach me from my old habits and lead me into a new way where I can learn to place others before myself not just because I know it's good, but because I have been so formed that I have no other response but to do so.

This family knows Jesus as Christ and as Lord. Of course they know the tiredness we all know from walking these hard roads each day, but they also know the roads to walk that lead to peace and joy.

For now, I am content to be eating many colorful garden treats and neighborhood animals with my hands, to be awoken each morning to the sound of a strange yet comforting language, to a language that not only sings a song with words, but also with the Spirit. I am thankful to be walking to the market hand in hand with a woman who cannot have a conversation with me, but has let me be her neighbor and friend. I am thankful to have my eyes opened to new definitions of hard work and sacrifice, of simple living. Mostly, I am grateful on this day to recall so clearly and quickly the sweet laughter of all my new friends here, a laughter that springs out of tears and thankfulness.

I am trying to learn the Karen language, very slowly but surely, I can now say thank you so much, you are so beautiful and i'll see you later. It's not much I know, but I do pray God can guide my tongue towards something good and fruitful.

Let us all pray today that our Father will continue to lead us to unknown places where the light is found in darkness. If you will, please pray today for our new friends, especially the baby, Wah le so, who went to the emergency room last night with a high fever. As I was sitting in that waiting room last night at 1 in the morning, I was realizing the fear that is capable of finding its way into the little spaces of confusion within us all. For all these new neighbors and refugees who have found a home here, for those who cannot see two steps ahead of them, and for those who lie awake at night and have no one to take them to find help in the middle of the night, may the peace of Jesus somehow find is way to those quiet places.

There is too much goodness to be contained, there is too much love to not give it all away.

Peace, peace and more peace to you all.

finding the ever new Beginning that has no end

so here it goes...

i've started a blog. yes, yes, do believe it, it has happened. I've always tended to make fun of those who do these sorts of things, and will probably continue to poke some sort of light hearted fun...that is until they discover my cyber life, too. I guess im beginning this little writing adventure because some people have asked me to, and i guess in some way i want to, mostly as a way to share life with others. i want to stay connected to some of the good and true folks i've met along the way, and offer them a glimpse into the life to be lived before me.

so today is a new day. today is a day where i am dreaming of a new place. a place filled with every color and shade, a space loud with unfamiliarity and discomfort. a place filled with words of hope, suffering, goodness and love. Im dreaming of a place where we can all learn to be healed and whole...together. my heart is being reborn within me as I dream of this place before me, this tiny town of clakston. it is already my home, even though i have not yet arrived. it is the place where i am hopeful to know something new of real freedom. i am longing now more than ever to know the freedom found in simplicity, the freedom of shedding the old and being handed the new.

I'll be leaving now in about a week from this place i have known so well, from this place that has known me so well. and i hope to have something more to share then. for now, im being led by a new light, to a place with too many colors to describe. the desert within me is beginning to be sanctified, the wilderness ahead is shining with promise.