Finding the Snow Dune Joy Rides of Every Season
Snow covers the ground in arctic, white dunes. A cold river of drafting air cuts a path across the living room floor. You have to wear socks if you want to do anything downstairs. At night, cold gropes around your shoulders. Johnstown in winter refuses to leave without proving that is everything it is famed to be. Of course, we put on our snow boots and continue on. The kids at New Day test our capabilities every day (wait? we have capabilities...?), and we come home tired and full of frustration to vent to Leah and Krista over supper. Though we've been here for months, things still aren't easy. I am still awkward at social events grasping at names I should remember by now. We're almost unbearably busy. Sometimes it feels like we live for the slow Saturday mornings when morning work, afternoon work, bible study, host family night, weekly chores, cooking duty, devotions, learning components (that went until 11:00...), worship components, reading assignments and grocery shopping are out of the way. Service Adventure in March is full of gray skies.
But it's amazing.
For all the gray skies there are snow storms that cancel work (even for "farm boys" like me), for the kids in all their stubbornness there's also the power of knowing them well enough now to give them "the look", for all the tired nights there are back massages and hymn singing, for all the busyness and people meeting there's the joy having new friends over for supper and laughing at shared jokes in church, for all the cold floors there are radiators to sit on together and thick woolen socks that come in packages from home, for all the cold nights there's sleeping in tucked into a warm covers that feel just right, and for all the snow dunes there are joy rides on the Steiner sliding and spinning as fast as I can go.
I've been writing most often about the big, abstract things I've been learning this year though I haven't covered even the half of it, but there's also the small, good things that I so rarely share. Now as I'm sitting in the wake of my thoughts on privilege (1, 2) and accumulating a mass of thoughts on the themes of Lent, I can write about them.
Like, how every day at the farm I feel all the more a part of the Parker-Hollingsworth family. Every morning, my favorite, blue mug is in the cabinet ready to use. Dorothy inevitably asks about my day then begins to tell me stories that often stretch far enough to invade into my "work time", but she's teaching me not to care as much. The sprawling house and grounds are every day more of home so that I can walk without feeling like a trespasser. I know the cats by name; I treat the Steiner with the same affection as a child; I run my routes with all the efficiency of a master. Rick is teaching me construction skills while he works on the back room and we joke back and forth as we work and listen to Top 40 Radio.
In a way, the farm isn't as much a work placement to me as much as it must be for the others and their morning work. Though I work there, I just as regularly live there, grab lunch there, chill there, talk there, laugh there. Understandably, some people would be critical of the work I am doing at the farm, who does it impact? Aren't there more useful things I could be doing? Sure. But that's not really all this work placement is about, it's more about just life, not just the work that I do or the work the farm is doing in the world, but the ins and outs of family, the life choices we make everyday, and the relationships we build all with God at the center.
At New Day I am also enjoying the same empowerment. I know the kids by name and face and heart, I know the line between times of seriousness and playing around, I transition between tasks with all the efficiency of a true teacher. Though the kids are ridiculous at every turn I am at times overcome but my love for them and their mischievous smiles, capacity to run forever, intelligence and wit, irrelevant dabs, wonderfully oblivious questions, and constant surprises. More important than the 20 minute, primary colored, lesson-to-be-learned bible studies we teach, I have loved getting to know the kids, earning their respect, letting them pull me around by my overalls, teaching them to make bread, pushing them back into their seat because they shouldn't be standing up when Ms. Abby is teaching, and asking about their days at school no matter how much they consistently hate it.
I am learning to teach by failing more often then not. Most importantly, the essence of teaching I am understanding is that it is more about promoting the authority of God than yourself. I cannot teach and demand classroom authority simply because I am an adult. There are some things that I simply cannot control and by demanding control I condemn myself. I must only require obedience to teach the significance of obeying God. As a teacher, I am only standing in for the ultimate Teacher. It's a good lesson not only for the kids but for me so that when I am calling the kids out for their unkindness to each other, encouraging them to see each other as children of God, and showing them truth day by day, I understand that God is surely doing the same for me disciplining me away from my stubborn disobedience and selfish head strong whims to act for the better of others and in respect of him. It also makes me value my relationship to the kids all the more knowing that God loves me even for my silliness and smiles at me when I wipe out on the floor because I was running too fast.
No matter how our days go, we always come home to each other. These six fools have become my family away from family over these past months. With each of them I share something unique. With Jonathan it's our post host family theological discussions, occasional rat chases and tea sampling (Huzzah! I've finally won him over!). With Abby it's our classroom teamwork keeping the chaos at bay and the midday break catching up. With Evan it's dumb jokes and dumb YouTube videos and easy conversation that's always to be had in undefined moments. With Eva its cold car rides, playing Mancala, and sitting my sofa with our laptops. With Krista it's midday reminders to do devotions or go running after work and singing through the hymnal on whims. With Leah it's unsolicited improv jamming and late night conversations on wonderfully inconvenient days.
These cool cats have taught me much about how we are to be God's people in the world, namely how to listen and how to receive grace. During this year, I discovered that I am not in the practice of listening but instead speaking my own mind (and oh, I am very articulate with that). I find it almost funny when I go home and hang out with friends how loud and how well they all speak. I know they're listening but it's very different then here where for me, listening takes its own kind of energy. I've been practicing listening to understand without the intention of speaking, allowing people to talk until they have come to their own conclusion, then asking thoughtful questions all while making sure the person feels listened to. It's surely been a challenge especially on days when I have to force myself to care about what happened this morning, or the third time I've heard a story this week, or things that don't seem as interesting as what I am wanting to say. A good listener knows that listening is all about the other person and hardly ever about oneself.
They've also been pushing me to think about grace's place in our relationships. I'm a proponent of all things fair. I have reason to be, I'm a twin. When I go home I am also surprised at the food territoriality that my family exhibits. Seriously, everything is counted and claimed; you have yours, and I have mine. I think sometimes, that mentality can bleed into other parts of my life, but it extends into a more complex idea that if I allow Krista to do my chore then Krista is giving and I am only taking; I want to give back equally so that we support each other and be fair. For me, it would be unloving to allow others to give me more than I could give back, and when that happens I often feel like a child rather than a respected equal. Living in community has bared this quality in me to the point that me not allowing others to show me grace has become a point of tension. Though my desire to be just as loving to others comes out of my desire to love, I am processing what it means in terms of my freedom in the grace of Christ. Instead of being enslaved to standards of "equal" freedom would mean giving joyfully and freely accepting whatever is offered. How will I ever accept the infinite love of Christ's grace if I don't practice that freedom? Do I really think that any degree of devoted service could make it equal? Thank you Krista for unloading the dishwasher when it was my job to do. Thank you Leah for washing my bread dishes when it was my mess. Thank you Eva for forgiving me when I forget to get gas. Thanks, guys.
It rained today turning my snow dune tractor spinning days to slush. The gray clouds slip over the horizon into rosy sunsets pushed by winds soon to carry the freshness of spring. Each season brings to Johnstown new challenges and joys. Before we know it it will be time for tea parties in oppressive 90 degree weather again. Though my year is already mostly finished, I am finding joy everyday amidst the struggles of each season of circumstances. Whatever the next season of life brings I am excited to find joy in that too.
But it's amazing.
For all the gray skies there are snow storms that cancel work (even for "farm boys" like me), for the kids in all their stubbornness there's also the power of knowing them well enough now to give them "the look", for all the tired nights there are back massages and hymn singing, for all the busyness and people meeting there's the joy having new friends over for supper and laughing at shared jokes in church, for all the cold floors there are radiators to sit on together and thick woolen socks that come in packages from home, for all the cold nights there's sleeping in tucked into a warm covers that feel just right, and for all the snow dunes there are joy rides on the Steiner sliding and spinning as fast as I can go.
 |
| The chickens disapproving of the snowy weather |
I've been writing most often about the big, abstract things I've been learning this year though I haven't covered even the half of it, but there's also the small, good things that I so rarely share. Now as I'm sitting in the wake of my thoughts on privilege (1, 2) and accumulating a mass of thoughts on the themes of Lent, I can write about them.
Like, how every day at the farm I feel all the more a part of the Parker-Hollingsworth family. Every morning, my favorite, blue mug is in the cabinet ready to use. Dorothy inevitably asks about my day then begins to tell me stories that often stretch far enough to invade into my "work time", but she's teaching me not to care as much. The sprawling house and grounds are every day more of home so that I can walk without feeling like a trespasser. I know the cats by name; I treat the Steiner with the same affection as a child; I run my routes with all the efficiency of a master. Rick is teaching me construction skills while he works on the back room and we joke back and forth as we work and listen to Top 40 Radio.
In a way, the farm isn't as much a work placement to me as much as it must be for the others and their morning work. Though I work there, I just as regularly live there, grab lunch there, chill there, talk there, laugh there. Understandably, some people would be critical of the work I am doing at the farm, who does it impact? Aren't there more useful things I could be doing? Sure. But that's not really all this work placement is about, it's more about just life, not just the work that I do or the work the farm is doing in the world, but the ins and outs of family, the life choices we make everyday, and the relationships we build all with God at the center.
 |
| A Johnstown sunrise captured by the one ever seeking beauty, Evan Finger |
At New Day I am also enjoying the same empowerment. I know the kids by name and face and heart, I know the line between times of seriousness and playing around, I transition between tasks with all the efficiency of a true teacher. Though the kids are ridiculous at every turn I am at times overcome but my love for them and their mischievous smiles, capacity to run forever, intelligence and wit, irrelevant dabs, wonderfully oblivious questions, and constant surprises. More important than the 20 minute, primary colored, lesson-to-be-learned bible studies we teach, I have loved getting to know the kids, earning their respect, letting them pull me around by my overalls, teaching them to make bread, pushing them back into their seat because they shouldn't be standing up when Ms. Abby is teaching, and asking about their days at school no matter how much they consistently hate it.
I am learning to teach by failing more often then not. Most importantly, the essence of teaching I am understanding is that it is more about promoting the authority of God than yourself. I cannot teach and demand classroom authority simply because I am an adult. There are some things that I simply cannot control and by demanding control I condemn myself. I must only require obedience to teach the significance of obeying God. As a teacher, I am only standing in for the ultimate Teacher. It's a good lesson not only for the kids but for me so that when I am calling the kids out for their unkindness to each other, encouraging them to see each other as children of God, and showing them truth day by day, I understand that God is surely doing the same for me disciplining me away from my stubborn disobedience and selfish head strong whims to act for the better of others and in respect of him. It also makes me value my relationship to the kids all the more knowing that God loves me even for my silliness and smiles at me when I wipe out on the floor because I was running too fast.
No matter how our days go, we always come home to each other. These six fools have become my family away from family over these past months. With each of them I share something unique. With Jonathan it's our post host family theological discussions, occasional rat chases and tea sampling (Huzzah! I've finally won him over!). With Abby it's our classroom teamwork keeping the chaos at bay and the midday break catching up. With Evan it's dumb jokes and dumb YouTube videos and easy conversation that's always to be had in undefined moments. With Eva its cold car rides, playing Mancala, and sitting my sofa with our laptops. With Krista it's midday reminders to do devotions or go running after work and singing through the hymnal on whims. With Leah it's unsolicited improv jamming and late night conversations on wonderfully inconvenient days.
 |
| Ski lift rides trying to keep our fingers from freezing off |
They've also been pushing me to think about grace's place in our relationships. I'm a proponent of all things fair. I have reason to be, I'm a twin. When I go home I am also surprised at the food territoriality that my family exhibits. Seriously, everything is counted and claimed; you have yours, and I have mine. I think sometimes, that mentality can bleed into other parts of my life, but it extends into a more complex idea that if I allow Krista to do my chore then Krista is giving and I am only taking; I want to give back equally so that we support each other and be fair. For me, it would be unloving to allow others to give me more than I could give back, and when that happens I often feel like a child rather than a respected equal. Living in community has bared this quality in me to the point that me not allowing others to show me grace has become a point of tension. Though my desire to be just as loving to others comes out of my desire to love, I am processing what it means in terms of my freedom in the grace of Christ. Instead of being enslaved to standards of "equal" freedom would mean giving joyfully and freely accepting whatever is offered. How will I ever accept the infinite love of Christ's grace if I don't practice that freedom? Do I really think that any degree of devoted service could make it equal? Thank you Krista for unloading the dishwasher when it was my job to do. Thank you Leah for washing my bread dishes when it was my mess. Thank you Eva for forgiving me when I forget to get gas. Thanks, guys.
 |
| That is some nice looking bread, Erin |
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