love drives you on

Physics is over!  Well, at least for a semester.  Celebration will involve lots of art: films, photography, writing, books...whatever I can do to feed my right brain!

As I was studying today before the final exam, I was freaking out over how I thought I knew formulas but they felt like they weren't coming together and questions like, "What if I fail?  What was the point of even moving here if I can't even pass this class?" were hitting me hard.

And then a thought stopped me in my tracks.  Well, more like a picture that found words and became a thought.

A memory came back to me. A memory of children-- children I've  had the honor to meet in my life in communities where education isn't readily available.

And my thoughts turned toward a little girl, one much like the girls I read about last year in a class I took regarding human trafficking.  A girl working insane hours every day of the week, all of her youth poured into another person's dreams.  In her situation, education isn't even an option.

Yet there I was, sitting with a laptop, surrounded by stacks of notes and a formula sheet that demonstrate three months of knowledge gained from getting to sit in a classroom in one of the greatest universities, surrounded by curious and hard working students.  With the opening of a tab and the click of a mouse, I have access to worlds of knowledge that can cause growth and expansion in my life.  That's my reality.  

The contrasting picture-turned-thought produced a reality check: whether I fail the exam or not, I am still finishing this semester with information that will stick with me forever, and I've grown in my understanding of science, which in turn has given me an even greater appreciation for life, seeing motion in deeper ways.

Education is a gift to be appreciated and valued--but not one that should be restricted. Doesn't the opportunity to learn make me in some way indebted to the girl who is giving her life unwillingly for another's dream?  There is a difference between a bond slave and slave.  The first has a choice, the latter does not.  She does not.  But what if I can make myself a bond slave to her?  What if she and I are connected more deeply than can be imagined, and what if the very nature of opportunity is meant to equip in order to give back, to give those without hope of rescue a chance? I can't help but feel that I have a responsibility to her.  A responsibility to take my studies seriously.  To see this time as a gift.  To recognize that training is a place of expansion, so that I can then go and use what I've gained as an offering to those who may never have a chance unless I both care and prepare.

 Love is a different motivator than ambition, but love still drives a heart to pay a price because the end result is worth it. And I want to learn Love in that way.  And I want to become love in that way-- to "turn our prayers into outrageous dares" as Jeff Tweedy would say.  To believe that my small life and your small life, and our small lives together, can really matter to the beautiful hearts in the world who don't yet know freedom.

So Glad You Exist

My mom is a sign language interpreter by profession.  Growing up, she placed a strong emphasis on non-verbal communication-- mainly body language and eye contact.  She taught my siblings and me that much is conveyed in the absence of words.

Currently I work in retail in a wealthier community in the Boston area.  Lately, I feel like I am a sociologist, observing the lifestyle of the entitled.  One thing that strikes me on a constant basis is how the tone a person uses and the way they make eye contact totally shapes an interaction.  Each interaction has its very own personality-- and there is a struggle I face each time I am treated rudely with how I will respond.  Will my response reshape the interaction in a positive direction?  Will I be proud of my response when I look back on my day?  Often my pride gets in the way of responding well, and instead I get short with the customer, thinking somehow my curt attitude will vindicate the ill treatment.

 However, when someone treats me kindly, acknowledging I am not just a cashier but indeed a person-- a person with goals, dreams, a brain -- something in me rises to the occasion, wanting to exceed their every expectation in return for their kindness.  Their kindness empowers me.

I'm a strong believer in the idea that even when someone is rude to you, you should not respond in kind.  There is something about love that chooses humility in such situations (which I often do not do).  But at the moment, I'm not wanting to write an essay on turning the other cheek. My thoughts are turned towards what kindness does to a heart.

I was walking home from work today and as a woman passed me,  she looked up from her carefully placed footsteps, treading wisely on freshly fallen snow, to catch my eye and exchange a smile.  That meant so much to me-- an acknowledgment of my personhood.  That I matter.  That the space I take up on the sidewalk is a beautiful part of her day, as her space is to mine.  That her existence is a wonderful thing. An exchange of strangers that validated how each of us is made up of the same set of bones, the same muscles, the same organs...that inside of us blood is running and a heart is beating and feet are moving to get us from one place to the next.  We may be in a different economic class, but we are not in a different human class.  We are equal.

I'm not sure why at 27 I am back in school, trying to go to medical school, unsure what will come of this journey, still wanting to write made up stories with characters that translate beyond words and into hearts but searching for a way to bring it all together.  I'm also not sure why at 27, lots of my friends are married, starting beautiful families, setting off on stable careers, but I am still a single wanderer who wants to live a life of meaning but is searching for what that exactly means within the grace that is on my life, all while working at a minimum wage job after going to college for four years, often having to depend on and receive the kindness of others.  I wasn't raised to believe that marriage is the answer to a girl's life and that finding a man is what defines your success or brings security, so I think that there is something in me that recognizes a longing for the companionship of another who gets my heart in a way no one else will on this great life adventure, but doesn't want it to be a savior from my current season--although I do look forward to the day when that piece in my journey comes. For now though, I want to live this season out in all its gore and glory, to feel it fully, as it leads to whatever is next on my journey and as it develops something in me that is focused and sure.

But where there are many things I'm not sure of, there is one thing I know for sure I want to do with my life, and it is this--
I want to look each person I meet in the eyes.  I want them to know I acknowledge them, that I am honored to meet them, that I celebrate the space they occupy.  I want the translation of my look to say, "You are beautiful and I am so glad you exist," regardless of their income, if they had a shower in the last week, if they live in the most beautiful house, or in a cardboard box.  Because there is justice found in our silent communication-- there is a power beyond words that restores dignity and offers a warmth that reaches deep into the soul.

shining eyes

"...but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small but don't ever stop singing."

-Sarah Kay


It seems fitting to write a blog on the eve of turning twenty-seven.  Twenty-six has been a good year.  It wasn't what I thought it would be, but what is?

It was a year of change.  Drove east from California, saw the Grand Canyon for the first time, stopped in beautiful Boulder, lived for a week in the Canadian woods with just a backpack, 14 ladies, and a canoe, applied to a program up in Boston, almost didn't want to get accepted so I wouldn't have to do any more moving.  But that didn't work out for me.

I live in Boston.  And I love it.

The other day I took the T to class and found myself listening to a (loud, I promise!) conversation between two students.  One studies at MIT, the other at Harvard.  At first I wanted to roll my eyes and tune them out, falling into an old judgment that all the undergraduate students at those schools are pretentious and arrogant.  But instead I found myself taken into a story one was telling the other about a friend.  This friend was a high school drop-out.  One day he discovered a lecture online about quantum physics, and it changed his life.  He started studying like crazy, and eventually this kid, who didn't even finish high school, found himself with an acceptance letter from MIT.  I found myself smiling when I heard that. There is something about passion that defies odds.  I can't help but believe that the passionate find a way even when things seem impossible...and they are usually the crazy ones who no one really thinks can pull it off.  Those will always be my favorite stories.

Sometimes I find myself looking at the stars, reminding myself that big dreams are not crazy and that God's love is strong and He is unapologetic about how excited He is for our lives.  I want to live in that reality.  In that kind of friendship.

Which brings me to the topic of friendship.  More than anything else, I feel like this last year has made me so deeply thankful for the genius of good friends.  I mean, I really lucked out when it comes to quality people in my life.  So if any of you read this, I just want to say thank you for being in my life.  I've learned so much about love, kindness, perseverance, laughter, joy....from all of you.

And here comes another year....

Remembering Mandela

Walked home from work tonight in rain that turned to hail.  Seems like a set-up for a bad mood, but instead it made me happy.  My thoughts turned to Nelson Mandela.  This world is already missing his beautiful soul.  Will my generation have leaders of his caliber?  Those who will hold onto what they believe about justice for all men, regardless of the cost.  Those who will choose forgiveness over and over again.  And here I am, wondering if I can actually handle eight more years of school to step into a dream.  Yet even if this journey I am on leads to a totally different door than what I was expecting, the truth still remains that the kinds of dreams that impact the world require sacrifice and hard work.  But the hard work doesn't have to be a burden.  It can be a joy.

Nelson Mandela, you will be missed.  Thank you for the lessons you taught humanity through the way you lived-- for your courage, your kindness, your integrity, your perseverance.

"We can change the world and make it a better place. It is in your hands to make a difference." --Nelson Mandela