After traveling home over our Service Adventure Christmas break, I've been reflecting over different aspects of what I consider "home". As anytime when difference is re-exposed, contrasts naturally pop out teaching us lessons that we previously couldn't have seen. Coming home after acclimating to Johnstown and the Service Adventure program for several months became an excellent example.
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| View from the Hawksbill Gap hike, the sunset behind us |
Limitless
Though I am young, every once and awhile I pause and catch the sense of my own death. I hear of people dying, I feel my body wear, or I reflect on how quickly even these few 18 years have passed by and my inability to stop them as they continue slipping out of my hands. My mind can hardly grasp that I will someday cease to exist. How can I imagine the hardships in my life to come, the slow decaying of this now resilient body, and then the tipping off of reality into the grayness of eternity and the unknown? In those brief moments my mind seizes up with fear and then grief for my own short life. I'm struck with the preciousness of these days. Then, the moment passes, I move on with my life, pulled along by inexorable time that will someday drag me to my end. This view of limitedness does give more value to my being in the moment. I appreciate my family members more after realizing that our time is limited, I hold close to my friends while we are still bound together by love, I take the opportunities given to me knowing my time is not guaranteed.
Even less often however, am I struck by invincibility as I was over Christmas break, perhaps because I am so young that it's a default attitude. We were driving back from Shenandoah National Park where Joseph, Ellie, Bailey and I had hiked up to Hawksbill Gap, the highest point in the park, to watch the sunset. The sun had painted the drab, brown mountains with a gradient of pinks, purples, blues, and oranges while the sun itself glowed through the skeleton trees. We now drove fast through the dark, Joseph's ever present music played through the speakers of the car, our youthful freedom rushed around us. We were all so in love with life, so loving being together. We talked of our dreams of studying music, having careers that fulfilled our inner passions, traveling out west to climb the Rockies, a glorious heaven, and our infinite God. The world seemed made for us and we are going after it. I felt what it is to be young then, the wonder of the future, the boundless possibilities, all the beauty and goodness there is to be had, I felt limitless.
Two Erins
When I showed up, I was wearing the jeans I'd been wearing the last part of the week (actually one of my few pairs of real pants, not work pants) paired with my go-to sweatshirt and tennis shoes lined with duct tape which had seen better days. Packed for the week were my chunky overalls and a few t-shirts. Classic Johnstown attire. As the week progressed and I passed in and out of many groups of friends and family, it occurred to me that, "Oh yeah, people like to be fashionable for no reason...." For the days when I was out and about meeting friends and such I pulled some clothes out of my closet so I would look less hobo-like and realized, I actually look pretty good. I felt myself slowly transition into "Harrisonburg Erin", the Erin who actually cared about her appearance. It felt nice to dress up a little bit and have reason to even if my clothes weren't as built for utility. In addition, Mom thought I needed to upgrade on coats, shoes, socks, pants, gloves, a lot of things it turned out. I'd been working this whole fall to cultivate a sense of contentment, not wanting anything; I was so privileged as it was, why buy something new when I could make do with gluing the soles of my shoes, layering up socks, dealing with wet feet or cold hands if I could? I wanted to resist buying anything I could live happily without, and to a point I was successful, snagging deals at Costco and only purchasing things I knew for sure I would use.
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| Christmas morning |
Still, I accumulated an unsavory pile of things including my new purchases and Christmas gifts. I was ashamed for my privileged self. I had bought a new coat when I could have used a second hand one all for the convenience and new look of it. How could I do that when people even here in my town were not warm or wealthy enough to have a choice of looks? Sometimes I wonder how far Christ is calling us. There's that idea that "It's Jesus or nothing" and you can sense it when you read the New Testament First Church and its martyrs or if you talk to evangelicals for too long. Shouldn't I be so compelled to serve that I could sacrifice my fashion and comfort without much thought? Shane Claiborne wrote that Mother Teresa always wore the worst of donated shoes so that someone else didn't suffer. It's that kind of love that speaks, and I'm not even struggling with the choice between deforming my feet (as she did) and comfortable shoes, but between new clothes and the clothes I already have! But that's "Service Adventure Erin" speaking.
Of course, I won't actually return any of my purchases. Far from it, I keep catching myself thinking about how nice it is to have new stuff. I'm particularly pleased with my new watch, and when I see it on my arm, I'm inwardly pleased. "Man, that looks so good." I want to hold to the truth that inward beauty far outshines outward fashion, that I should content to wear clothes that are functional and modest and not seek after image, but I love the way I look if I'm upfront with myself. The problem is, image can be so easily worn away by age and poverty. It's so precarious that I shouldn't be so invested in it. "Harrisonburg Erin" knows this but is content to buy in moderation and still be dressed well while "Service Adventure Erin" remains conflicted.
There were other things that "SA Erin" found objection with at home - the expansiveness of the house that seemed so opulent, the ability to drive wherever and whenever (a necessity when you live in the county, but not ideal for environmental reasons), the power to buy, and the removal of any challenge to live uncomfortably. "Harrisonburg Erin" simply took the chance to be comfortable.
This morning when I woke up in Johnstown, I put on some old jeans and a sweatshirt. I wore some of the thick, new socks I'd bought and went the rough, wooden stairs through the cold, 19th-century house, and I was "Service Adventure Erin" once more.
Friends Forever
After spending three days solely with my family, I set out to see my dear friends whom I had not seen for months. I scheduled my few, precious days full of meetings, and I don't think there has ever been a week when I have drunk more tea. I was so happy to see everyone, talk to them, see them smile again, hear their voices. In most cases, it felt as though I'd never left; we jumped right into discussions on common friends, political theories, ambitions, careers, life reflections, the new Touring Choir (those impostors), or advanced physics in the case of dear Josh. My heart was full of love for them. Even as we talked though, I felt the rift months had put between us, how our lives had diverged even for just this little time. I imagined the months ahead, the now seniors would graduate and pick colleges, the now college freshmen would go on to internships and study abroads in far away places. Even I in less than a year would be immersed in studies and far from home at Wheaton College. How soon would it be that our friendships would lose their revelancy and become rimmed with obligation and made of only stale high school memories. I don't want to lose the sense of a growing friendship, the sense that we are still making memories now even though hours of driving divide us. It's a good reminder to not be stuck on the past, thinking and talking about "the good ole days", but to be looking ahead to keeping these dear friends close to my present heart. Calls, texts and letters while we are now apart symbolize for me the hard work needed to keep our lives stitched together, keeping me up to date on what they are invested in and challenged by. I saw a saying hung on Amy's bedroom wall that says it well - "Friendship is not one big thing, it's many little things." Little things are hard work, and they often feel insignificant, but these friends are well worth it. Where we will be even in a year when I come home from Wheaton, I don't know, but I will do my part in being a friend to them despite the miles.
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| Having tea after hiking. I really should have taken more pictures while at home.. From Left: Bailey, Ellie, Joseph |
Old Assumptions
Oh how I've missed the types of discussions I'd have with my EMHS and church friends. Bailey came to pick me up from Johnstown the day before I came home, and when she began to speak about her thoughts of God and heaven while in a group discussion, I rejoiced remembering how people could just talk about faith so well. It's not that my SA people don't do that, it's just an ever-so-slight difference of talking. I'm not sure what sets my friends apart, maybe just the common assumptions we all hold that allow us to delve deep into theories of the universe and beyond. With all of my friends all week long I had these type of conversations, the conversations that I hold most valuable, that make up meaningful connections, that are worth losing sleep to keep up, that are so hard to have over text or phone. While talking to my closest church friends especially we got into a long discussion that ranged over governing theories, God, social justice, privilege, and ethics. We all have different opinions and though we're very good at disagreeing well, the discussion was intense as people spoke one after the other, all very loud, all so well versed. There wasn't any space between to process the complex, differing opinions that were spoken, but what I was surprised at was a general attitude all of them seemed to share. Their mildness to racism, their repulsion to modern feminism, their struggle with incorporating evangelism to faith well, their strange mix of both libertarian and socialist ideals and so on, contrasted with the many voices I've been hearing recently (both liberal and conservative). The lack of those colorful opinions shocked me, was there no one else among us to speak up against these assumptions? Not that I agree with everything my new community holds to be true or even with what these friends assume; in general, I've been learning how little I know, how young I am, how little I've experienced, and therefore, how invalid any opinion I have can be. Because of this awareness, I'm more likely to listen more and disagree less. If I do speak, I only want to offer a second viewpoint, perhaps not even my own, just something else to think about and throw into the mix to show the many-facetedness of God's world. I'm glad I've been given this year to hear new voices than those I grew up listening to so that I develop many-faceted opinions that have more depth than those I would have had.
Good to be Home, Good to be Back
I love my home. Being with my family, though weird at times, was great (even greater by the fact that my mom cooks really well and obsessively cleans up after us). Back in the "Burg", I felt like I really belonged again among friends who drink tea, know what Touring Choir really is and have the same assumptions as I do, and with sisters who I actually missed (imagine that); I even knew how to get around! The pressures of working hard, keeping up with the SA schedule, integrating into a new community, and living in a new (I guess it's now not that new.. but still) place just fell away. The week off was a break I needed to reconnect with people I missed so much and relax a little.
I'm glad also, that I missed Service Adventure. During the days I was away I would think of the Germans having an adventure in Florida or the Wisconsinites and what they could possibly be up to at home. Though I didn't miss the Johnstown weather (at all), when we drove in yesterday, I was glad to see the familiar roads and bridges, the shallow river, the Incline Plane crawling up the mountain, and then best of all - Leah, Krista, Eva, Jonathan, and Abby (Evan is taking more days for his break). In the coming weary months of January and February I am sure to miss my family and friends and the comfort of home, but for now, it's good to be back.
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| The unit (missing Evan, unless you count this snow creature we made to commemorate his absence) on a snowy hike on our first day back together. From left: Eva, Abby, Leah, Jonathan, Krista, me |
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