Artist statements: on Wednesdays and gentle strength

“Happy Wednesday 1.”

This is another “I taught Kindergarten once” story, but I taught Kindergarten once and it was really amazing and also really hard at times. A few months in, I caught myself in countdown-to-the-weekend mode and that was the LAST thing I wanted to teach, or live.

So, I had a good cry about it, and then had an idea: add celebration to the middle of every week.

The final block of every Wednesday lesson plan, from there on out, was wholly dedicated to “Feliz Miércoles.” We made a giant card, grabbed the maracas and tambourines, and surprised one teacher or other staff member with a grand display of our appreciation.

So, today I say: What if we let Wednesday itself be a reason to send a card, shake a maraca, praise God, buy flowers from the supermarket, disrupt life a bit by celebrating it?I think it could change things. In fact, I know it could.

Happy Wednesday, friends.

“Even at High Tide.”

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

This image is a testament to that gentle, perpetual strength. May we trust that it will see us through, even at high tide.

2020 word of the year: excavate

“Pittsburgh Sunset.” 16X20” acrylic on canvas. 2020.

December 30, 2020

Left to my own devices, I’m on a bus, plane, train, boat, or road trip of sorts every couple of weeks. 

I remember planning my 2020. Lol. I took the job at Panera last January not to eventually fund my artistic dreams (which is happening now, surreally enough) but to fund traveling… everywhere. Anywhere. Seeing everyone.

And now my big NYE plans are driving 20 minutes to play Bananagrams with the family and I’m so here for it. While I know the traveler within remains very much alive and well and will be rip-roaring ready to go when her day arrives… I gotta let something be said for being still. Experiencing every season again. Seeing Pittsburgh from some new angles, family and hometown friends and myself in freeing, more mature light. Giving my eyes time to adjust to all the rich complexities and hope waiting to be seen right here.

Excavating instead of traveling, if you will. 

There is loss and ache in my backpack, surely, but that can’t stop me from noticing, and deeply loving, this remarkable view right here. And I have 2020–not my own devices–to thank for that.

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”  Proverbs 19:21

HOPE: a gathering place (part 4)

A global candlelight vigil for hope.

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“The Lord has promised Good to me. His Word, my Hope secures.”

from “Amazing Grace” by John Newton, a hymn born of his conversion from a slave trader to an abolitionist/preacher, from blind to seeing, from hopeless to hopeful.

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Welcome back as we enter the final week of this series!

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Today’s contributors inspire us to reflect on the seeds of transformation God asks us each to plant–among the voices of “Why bother?” “Give up!” “That’s illogical,” “But that’s not the way it is,” “That’s strange,” “That’s impractical”– in our lives.

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May we remember today these seeds we planted in faith, and find the hope that resists digging them up when things don’t go as cleanly, as quickly, as planned. May we remember that breakthroughs are directly attached to our meantime, when we allow the seed to sprout and grow toward the surface, into some unexpected fruit, better than we imagined. Breakthroughs come when we realize we don’t need to know how to grow a plant… but just listen to the (wink) ludicrous loving whispers of the One who does. One now at a time.

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And what if hope, then, is the ever-increasing trust in that process? Won’t we all keep planting those seeds?

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“Where do you find hope?”

“For me, hope always seems to come from other people. In tough situations, I have seen so much resilience when people are faced with unbearable hardships and heartaches. Their determination to continue on, through those tough times gives me hope. 

If people are willing and able to push through this, then together, we can push through anything. 

On a more personal note, I think back to certain times in my life when I had been in situations where I had given up on myself- Where my weaknesses and failures that continuously swirled around my head tainted me- telling me that those failings were all I was made of. In those times, specific people in my life still saw me and loved me where I was at. Yes, they saw my failures and weaknesses, but they also saw all the good qualities about me as well- and that always provided hope to me through my own turmoil.”

Amanda Fahrendorf works at the Riverwest Food Pantry in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She is passionate about meeting people right where they are, and fostering community in a world that so desperately needs it. She’s an artist, a hiker, a remarkable listener, a superb whistler, a very scary lava monster during Kindergarten recess, and a most genuine friend. In some of my most difficult hours as a teacher last year, God sent in Amanda with her encouragement, energy, and grace.

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“I first find Hope in my faith. My faith in Jesus is a major priority in my life and having a personal relationship with Jesus is especially important to me. I pray constantly, and when I pray, I must have faith in what I am praying for. By spending quality time with Jesus through prayer, I find hope in that Jesus hears my prayers, and that provides me comfort.

I also found hope from my mother. She provided a great example for me and gave me hope my whole life through her many sacrifices. Because of her vision for my life she helped prepared me for success, so I am hopeful that I can handle any situation that comes my way because of my mom’s prayers, love, and guidance. 

My daughter provides me hope as well. She is one of my biggest blessings in my life, and I thank God for her. I am passing on the same knowledge to my daughter that my mom passed on to me, so my daughter will be ready and prepared for the pressures of this world. She provides me extra motivation to succeed, because I want to be able to provide a great life for her. I am hopeful that I will provide a good example for her on what a good father is, on how a man should treat a woman/lady, on what a good work ethic is, among other valuable lessons–so that when she gets older and has to make decisions, she will have a good blueprint to look back on. If I do a good job as her dad, I am hopeful she will make the right decisions.

I also find hope from my own athletic and coaching experiences. I played sports my whole life, so I understand teamwork and working hard towards a common goal. Coaching is about building relationships and teaching life lessons through sports. Of course I taught basketball skills and concepts, and that is why our players and teams were successful over the years, but one of the main things I was trying to do was teach life lessons through basketball… and even if some of our players did not fully understand some of those lessons while in high school, maybe one day when they get older, they will look back and say, ‘That is what coach was trying to teach us,’ and maybe some of those lessons we were trying to teach will be able to help them the rest of their lives as adults, and that gives me hope. I know the importance of sports, coaching and leadership, and the responsibility of adding value into other people’s lives.”

(Coach) Ron Moncrief is the Athletic Director at Saint Joseph High School in Natrona Heights, Pennsylvania. He coached women’s basketball at Vincentian Academy from 2005 to 2020, where his teams won back-to-back state championships in 2014 and 2015. Ron was named 2013 and 2014 Pittsburgh Post-Gazette North Basketball Coach of the Year, and the 2014 Pennsylvania Sports Writers (A) Coach of the Year. He is the author of Coaching from the Heart: The Greatest Untold Stories. I can attest: his authentic faith and love for others inspires his players to rise to more than they would otherwise dare imagine.

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“Every year, after our final shows, I ask the cast to choose quotes from the show which reflect a life philosophy or lesson. One by one, 2nd or 3rd or 5th graders stand up and reveal deep insights into human behavior, positive philosophies, and messages of love and hope they have gleaned from the show. Their choices and explanations reveal depth, insight, love and positivity far beyond their years. The hearts of our children give me hope.”

Karen Cordaro (aka “Mrs. C”) is an educator and the founder of ACT ONE Theatre School, which offers musical theatre programs for youth from Kindergarten through high school. She also wrote the script and co-wrote the lyrics for Sesjun (an internationally broadcast jazz program with Holland’s Metropolitan Orchestra), directed the Route 66 performance with the cast of The Bold and the Beautiful in Rotterdam, and has written for Paramount, among many other accomplishments in the field. I experienced firsthand how Mrs. C encourages her young students to take creative risks, celebrates their differences, empowers growth, nurtures an empathetic imagination, and lives out her motto “There are many ways to teach love.”

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“Hope springs forth from many sources for me. In the past, it was working with alumni and their families in doing service work around the community. Being able to lead such a genuine and kind group of people meant a lot and really shaped my college experience. Now, with the hustle and bustle of my 9-5, hope comes in different ways: texts and messages from old friends that feel like no time has passed at all, music that energizes me or helps me reflect, and spreading joy in the form of cheesy jokes every week. But most of all, hope comes from continuing to grow personally and seeing not only how my life is changing for the better, but how I am able to be a light for others.”

Justin Knobloch is an analyst at Digitas in Chicago, with side hustles including but not limited to: near-professional Latin dancing, curating dozens of playlists to suit your every mood and season under the pseudonym “Headphone Guy,” playing the guitar, drinking too much milk in Italian restaurants, and folding shapeshifting origami roses. Two times a year, he can be found fully costumed as Buddy the Elf. Once weekly, he can be found emailing his coworkers and friends a new collection of original puns. Daily, he can be found bopping to a good beat, confidently strolling along, and alchemizing authentic joy in all he encounters.

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“I find so much hope in children and teenagers (yes, teenagers). Kids and teens are seriously the best. My nieces, nephews, students, and little brothers and sisters at the Finca being me hope and call me to the work of giving all I’ve got to building up my little corner of God’s kingdom. Here are some favorite memories over the past few months: getting a FaceTime call from a student so that I could be a part of her grandmas 60th birthday party, seeing a very fantastic kiddo laughing hysterically over Bob books as she learned to read virtually, riding the waves on a ridiculous pineapple inflatable with my nieces and nephews, and knowing that my first class of students have beat numerous odds and graduated high school. I’m really wildly blessed to know children and teens who have shown me the heart of God- a heart that loves lavishly, unconditionally , and fills the world with laughter! If you need hope, be there for a kid in your life. Works every time.”

Anna Smith is a 3-5th grade Montessori teacher at Durant Tuuri Mott Elementary–a public school in Flint, Michigan that offers multiple specialized programs to suit its students’ unique needs. Upon graduating from Franciscan University, she taught middle school English and Religion De La Salle Elementary School, a Catholic school in Memphis (now Compass Binghampton Charter School) that serves primarily immigrant and refugee students. “Over 13 languages spoken in a student body of under 200!” she told me. From 2018 to 2019, she served as the Sub-Director and Special Education Director of Centro de Educación Básica Católico San Pedro at the Finca del Niño in Trujillo, Honduras. Anna is the loving and beloved “cool aunt” to her nieces and nephews, a strong woman of faith who lets God make a way in places others might write off, an angelic vocalist who can harmonize anything, and a top meatball chef.

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“I take hope to the ability to imagine a better world – more loving, more just – than the one we currently reside in.  

Hope is necessary in my work as an addiction recovery coach.  It is necessary for the recoverees because recovery is impossible without the ability to imagine, even if fleetingly and incompletely, a life of sobriety.  One of the things strong drugs do when taken frequently is rewire the neurons in the brain into a closed circuit of drug-seeking thought. Not much else gets in.  So when someone in active addiction simply imagines sobriety, that alone is a victory.  

Hope – as distinct from optimism – is also necessary for the recovery coach.  Optimism expects things to turn out well; hope is just thankful when they do.  

So what gives me hope?  The small victories of my recoverees.  One got high, spent all the money he was saving to move out his parents’ house, wrecked his car, and lost his job.  A day or two later, he called to meet with me.  The fact of this call meant that he had not given up on himself.  That gave me hope.  For six months, I have been trying to convince another recoveree to go to inpatient rehab because outpatient has not worked (he keeps getting high when he has too much free time on his hands).  Today he is taking a Greyhound bus to a six-month treatment center. Even though he bailed after one day because he was anxious the last time he tried inpatient treatment, his taking the bus today gives me hope.  

In addictions work, there is no victory too small to celebrate, and when we celebrate it is for a hope fulfilled, even a hope seemingly as insignificant as a person getting on a bus.”

Todd Whitmore is an Associate Professor of Theology and Anthropology at the University of Notre Dame. He is the author of Imitating Christ in Magwi: An Anthropological Theology, which he wrote upon traveling to northern Uganda and South Sudan from 2005-2013. In 2018, he wrote a successful grant to train addiction recovery coaches to work in the local hospital emergency room, to support those recovering from overdoses to maintain ongoing sobriety. He is currently a Certified Addiction Peer Recovery Coach for persons with methamphetamine and opioid addictions in northern Indiana. His work–and his ability to articulate its inspiration in lectures and writings–is a vivid example of the modern-day, living hope of Christ in our world.

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Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed–in writing, reading, talking, sharing, living, or all of the above–to this HOPE: a gathering place series. You have inspired me and an exponential amount of others more than you will ever know. Your seeds are producing fruit in ways you could never imagine.

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The image at the top of this post is the one I want to leave you with after these four weeks. The vision I had from the beginning: flickering candles coming together from all over, a brief moment in time, creating a bonfire, and then going forth each more blazing than before… to pass it on.

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Look around, look within: don’t you see them burning?

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I declare it: God is working in your life, in my life, in our world. We have glimpsed His promises. We will know the next good step in our participation, we will plant the seeds and trust there’s a reason. We will be renewed.

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And we will discover HOPE, again and again, against all odds.

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Go forth, brave friends. ♡

HOPE: a gathering place (part 2)

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“See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness

and streams in the wasteland.”

Isaiah 43:18-19

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Hey friends! Thank you for returning to, or joining, this conversation.

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This week, I pose the question: What do hope and listening to new perspectives have in common?

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I propose this answer: They both expand our imaginations.

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While there is certainly a time to go inward and wholly accept a current reality (a hope that bypasses this is counterfeit), there comes a time to go outside of ourselves and imagine that there’s a better way–or maybe simply imagine the possibility that we don’t know everything–which is a relief, isn’t it? Especially when our thoughts stray toward something like, “This is just the way it is,” “This is a dead end,” “They are hopeless,” “I’m hopeless,” “This is hopeless,” etc.?

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An expanded imagination gives space for productive accountability, surrender, learning, community, and compassionate transformation to occur. So, we hope in some greater Good. We listen. And we act (or, in select cases, don’t act) from there, even when it feels like the biggest mess in the world.

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“See, I am doing a new thing!” God said through Isaiah, to both the exiles in Babylon and to us today. I’ve always read this in the tone of a very wholesome Picasso-type figure giddy to reveal the masterpiece he’s working on, one we never could’ve predicted. That seems fitting. God, the ultimate Creator, the genius Artist behind it all, is of course always creating things, transforming things, expanding things, progressing things for Good in new ways–and wanting us to share in that. We each were a new thing too, after all, and continue to be if we dare let Him work in and through us. (Say it louder for the stubbornness-prone *me* in the back!)

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“Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

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So, this week, in this place and beyond, I invite us to:

  • dare to listen to new perspectives (starting with the powerful ones below)
  • dare to imagine new possibilities
  • dare to hope… and watch God work.

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“Where do you find hope?”

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“’Hope’ is the thing with feathers-/ that perches in the soul-/ and sings the tune without the words-/ and never stops- at all-”

So begins Emily Dickinson’s famous poem on Hope, beloved (or perhaps begrudged) by many students as an example of extended metaphor. It’s a poem I taught to my students, a poem that I myself was taught when I was in their shoes. It’s a poem that, all those years ago in the dusty basement English classroom, seized my heart and mind with its beauty and vividness. Hope is a bird, hope sings: hope is my soul, my soul is a bird, my soul sings, even in the midst of a gale. It is one of the first poems I volitionally memorized, not because a teacher told me to but because I recognized in it words better than my own, words that I wanted to save so that they could spring forth unbidden when my own failed me.

Poetry—and really literature and art, as well—is a source of hope for me. It is a reminder of the constancy of human experience, of human suffering, and the ability of humans to triumph. It is the great border-flattener, removing not only barriers across time and space but also across mind and heart to let me glimpse the experiences of others and lead lives other than my own. And, it reminds me that despite all the pain and difficulties of the world, there is beauty and goodness and truth out there waiting to be encountered.” 

Tracey Schirra is a current education policy research assistant in Washington, DC, former high school English teacher, and perpetual lover of learning. She dabbles in creative writing, various artistic mediums, and political theory. She is sunshine personified. 
The core members of Skupnost Barka (Slavko, Marinka, Stane, Ado, and Marianca) and I painted this mural in the community’s new shed to inspire each workday. The scene depicts the gorgeous Slovenian landscape, and the verse, Psalm 33:5: “The earth is full of God’s unfailing love.”

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“I find Hope in every smile and lovely face of all our core members, as this means that they feel okay. Also in every vegetable in our garden, as this means we have food, we are not hungry, and we respect nature. I find Hope in every kind word. I know more and more we are people who dream and work for better relations – in our small community and wider. I hope and believe in a world of respect and love.”

Brigita Perdih is the volunteer coordinator and an assistant in the Skupnost Barka (L’Arche) Community in Medvode, Slovenia. This is a community of people with developmental disabilities (core members) and people without disabilities who live together, work together, sing together, cook together, garden together, dance together, and take care of one another. Brigita is an incredibly kind, fiery, adventurous (she once did rescue work in the Alps!), open-hearted woman who mentored me and many others during my summer with the community in 2017.

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“When I look at the world today I see despair. When I watch the news or walk down the streets of social media, hopelessness is looming in our posts and souls. However, when I look at Jesus Christ and his love for you and me fully demonstrated at His cross, I become optimistic, even in the face of death or poverty. If God has done so much for me already, what won’t he do to bring me through this too? I find hope in the person of Christ and what he’s offering to all humanity.” 

Sive “Sylvester” Nogada is a follower of Jesus Christ, loving husband to Linku, and the executive Pastor of New Creation church. He was born and raised in Cape Town, South Africa, where his career thrived in church leadership, sports ministry, and sport for development and peace. His vibrant passion for community transformation, and success in carrying it out, led to him becoming a global trainer to church and parachurch leaders across Africa, London, and in the U.S. His ambition for sustainability in African missions has led him to pursue a bachelor’s degree in Business Administration at William Jessup University, CA. He hopes to use his education for holistic-socioeconomic transformation when he returns to South Africa–to set the captives free, give sight to the blind, and declare freedom. His joy will inspire yours. 

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Artist: Adelina, age 6

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“I find hope reading the Bible…. also, I usually find hope when I’m snuggling with you, Mama.”

Adelina Wooldridge, age 6, in response to her mom, Nicole Wooldridge, posing the hope question.  Adelina is an artist in every sense of the word (her striking sailboat painting is featured above!) a generous free spirit, and an effortless master of the one-liner. 

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“I find hope in the mountains, with my calves achy, my breath heavy, and my soul singing the glory of God’s creation.”

Nicole Wooldridge led an initiative to install an entire new water filtration system for the Finca del Niño, and is currently pursuing a degree in Nursing near Seattle, Washington. She’s the mother of Kiara and Adelina, wife of Eric, a former “professional welcomer” to international university students, a lover of learning, a transformative communicator of peace and grace. Nicole lives out the deep authentic love of the Lord through all that life presents her.

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Photographer: Nicole Wooldridge, July 2020

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“I think hope is really when we experience [how God is working in all times of our lives]. Sometimes it is easy to be positive and have optimistic thoughts, no? But when we enter difficult situations—such as the sickness of a relative, financial difficulties, distance, circumstances like this—our faith gets tested and we must take a big step of faith to have hope in these times. Our priest Father Gregorio said once, ‘My hope begins where my optimism ends.” I agree with this. I have had months where it is difficult to be positive, but this is when God allows me to really experience hope. It allows me time to say okay, how am I living? How is my relationship with Jesus, really? And I realize I can continue with my life because I am truly entrusting everything to Him.” (translated)

Nely Herrera is a remarkably warm-hearted missionary with Missioners of Christ in Comayagua, Honduras, where she leads retreats for young adults through the organization Corazon Puro. Born in Nicaragua, Nely is dedicated to using her own experiences of hardship and faith to help young people establish healthy, loving relationships in their lives. She is a former missionary at the Finca del Niño and visits regularly to support the teenage residents. 

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“When first asked “Where do you find hope?”, I thought to myself…well, that seems easy enough. But the more I thought about it, the harder it was for me to convey. I realized this difficulty was because, for me, hope rose out of some of the darkest times in my life. In past years, I battled with my mental health so much so that hope was truly all I was holding on to get through the day. Thinking back on these darker times in my life, I realized the true beauty of the word “hope”. It is something that I have held onto as a means to climb out of dark times and lean into God and my own light.

I believe that hope is found deep within our souls. I have found hope within myself many times before. It is wanting to give up but waking up every morning because the possibility of tomorrow is too good to miss. And honestly, I would not be answering this question if I did not choose hope on every single dark day. Back then, I could not see the light, but I found hope in myself and other people who have battled with their mental health and triumphed over their struggle. 

More and more, I am learning that hope is in the little things. It is hearing someone say you did a good job. It is a teenager helping the elderly. It is allyship during times of civil unrest. It is simply waking up each morning ready to tackle a new day. For me, hope stems from these small, seemingly insignificant actions. It is seeing people work together, be kind, and be loved. Hope also comes from within, as mentioned before. It is the whisper on your bad days, telling you to stay. It is the last line of defense. Hope is the feeling, the aching desire that this life is still worth living, that the world is still beautiful, and that you can still find your light. Seek hope, feel hope…

…it will carry you.”    

Taylor McCorkle is a Neuroscience PhD candidate at Drexel University College of Medicine, a former track athlete at the University of Pennsylvania, a champion of love, an inspiring mental health advocate, and just a really genuine friend. She co-founded the Neuroscience Graduate Students for Diversity Group (NGSD), an organization fostering a safe and inclusive environment in the Drexel College of Medicine community. She leads with love in way that makes all around her eager to join in (present company very much included).

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Thank you once again for being here. Now let us go forth, daring to listen to new perspectives, daring to imagine new possibilities, and daring to hope

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…and watch God work.

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See you next week! 🙂

HOPE: a gathering place (part I)

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Hi! I’m so glad you’re here. Not just here on this blog post, but here in the world in this moment in time. Trust me, that is no accident.

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I’ve called this gathering because I see you out there, doing good work of transformation.

I know it isn’t always easy, this whole messy business, and the footing feels shakier than you wish it did at times–and yet even still you have the deep ineffable sense that this is the fullest way to live, a gift and not a burden, so you continue. In your unique way, you continue to choose a life of action over passivity, truth-telling over silence, listening over silencing, curiosity over judgment, healing over resenting, encouraging over shaming, caring over numbing, daring over hiding, giving over accumulating, creating over dwelling, dreaming over despairing… loving, over any reason the world says not to do so.

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You don’t do this work to prove yourself to anyone, including God–that battle is won –but just to love Him, and allow Him to newly love the world in and through you. You do this to RSVP “yes” to His invitation to participate in His agenda for Good… in this moment… and this one….and this one too…trusting that whether the impact of your work shows up tomorrow, in fifteen years, or never to your knowledge or during your lifetime, this work is valuable because it was never yours to begin with. I see you, I thank you, and, friend, I believe in you.

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And yet in it all, how crucial to remember that we are of course human. No one is always leading, no one is always inspired, no one has every clear-cut answer. Sometimes we are riding a wave of inspiration and letting it overflow into the lives of others– yet other times we are resting, on the receiving end of some support, or inevitably messing up a bit. Always we are learning.

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This is good. This is what keeps us open to God, and to each other. This is the only way we can see what we weren’t seeing, walk each other home.

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I know there’s a lot I’m not seeing. So what would happen, I wondered, if we all paused a moment from the good work of transformation we each feel called to in our lives, to look not forward to the long way to go–or inward to our own human limitation– but right here to one another for some deeper inspiration? Some communal confirmation that we aren’t the only one? I imagined flickering candles coming together from all over, a brief moment in time, creating a bonfire, and then going forth each more blazing than before… to pass it on.

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So, I reached out to about 587 people (okay, 32 so far, but believe me, I can keep going) (so no, dear reader, you aren’t safe 0:) ) whose examples inspire me every day, told them so, and asked them one question.

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Each person who responded–I find it helpful to imagine a mic being passed–revealed in his or her own way that yes, among all of the uncertainty, injustice, fear, pain, guilt, division, and fatigue yelling “Defeat is inevitable! Defeat is inevitable!” in our face, there’s a still stronger force infinitely anchored there for our discovery: hope.

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Hope smiles and replies, “Oh hush” because we all knows who gets the last laugh.

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So, welcome to the HOPE: a gathering place series. Thank you for being here. May the words of my friends in this place for the next few weeks help us all see the hope we aren’t seeing. May we remember again and again why we bother to keep doing good work of transformation, in faith, together (even if we are very much physically scattered). May we remember that hope inspires hope. And today, may we be renewed in that hope— because Lord knows we do in fact have a lot of good work left to do. ♡

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“Hi! Where do you find hope?”

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“I find hope when I have conversations with God in my imagination. Also when I’m with a dog.”

Kiara Wooldridge, age 8. Kiara is an avid reader, writer, agent of kindness, and adventurer who once joined forces with her sister to lead me on a tour around the world—all without leaving their yard. 

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“I find hope in the future of nursing. As nursing education continues to advance and higher nursing degrees are recommended, we continue to see young, new nurses that are very eager to learn and help others. That eagerness and compassion makes me optimistic that the future of nursing is in good hands.

[As an oncology nurse] I’m able to build ongoing relationships with patients and their families during the hardest times of their lives. It gives me perspective about what’s important in life and allows me to help patients make the most out of the life they have.”

Courtney Ebaugh, BSN, RN, is an oncology nurse in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She has a deeply caring heart, a cat named Merlot, and an annual “mud run” tradition with her family.
Painted by a teenager at the Finca del Niño in Trujillo, Honduras.

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“As a kid I went to a Catholic school where we were taught strong Christian values. I vividly remember singing the hymn, “Give me hope, Jehovah, ‘til the morning comes.” The night resembled the troubled times where hope was the only thing that kept you sane from all the evil thoughts at the night. Though I am Buddhist by birth and follow the Buddhist teachings, the words in the hymn stuck with me till now. 

For me, hope is something that keeps you dreaming for a better tomorrow and gives you the strength to carry on even in the darkest times. Sometimes you hurt and fall to the deepest of abyss and fear–it’s hope that makes us believe in ourselves and everything around us.”

Prateek Syangden is the program coordinator for Childreach Nepal, where he runs sports for development projects for children/youth in rural Nepal that focus on child protection, education, and gender-related issues. He is a prime example of how the wisest among us also tend to be the goofiest.

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“I find hope in every breath I take. In every time I see someone being kind. In every gentle breeze that cools me down during the summer. In every book that takes me on a journey, that connects me to all the people who have read that same book. I find hope in new life because it teaches me how fragile we all are but also how much kindness we all are capable of. These are trying times and although despair might be in the frontline, hope is what helps us keep moving forward and striving for a better tomorrow.”

Daniel Moreno was formerly a teacher at The Bridgeway School–a high school for youth recovering from substance abuse–in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and now works in graphic design. He immigrated from Venezuela at age 10, and shares his story to lift up and advocate for fellow Dreamers in our nation. I am very indebted to his encouragement as I stumbled through Spanish language school.
“Hutchman 10” by Jacob Brown.

“God. Jesus.”

Jacob Brown is an artist from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania whose gorgeous art narrates in vivid color and texture his experience with cerebral palsy. He works at Target, loves his friends from Best Buddies, and enjoys skiing, rowing, and wholeheartedly engaging in the creative process. (More of his work here!)

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“Hope is found in Jesus Christ, who is always with us, who loves us and forgives us every day, who teaches us how to be better. I found my hope when I believed I had lost everything with the death of my baby… but God taught me that life continues and that there is no one more important than Jesus, that we will die, but we will live in Christ Jesus. God is good and is on our side always!” (translated)

Maria Ofelia Gutierrez is the absolutely luminous director of the Finca del Niño children’s home in Trujillo, Honduras–and one of my biggest role models. Her faith in God through the loss of her child inspires her work with the children of the Finca each day. 

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“I find hope in the little things… in the many, small ways we can show care for one another each and every day. I find hope in the people I’ve been blessed to be around, and the ways they actively and intentionally seek to make this world better for us all.

I find hope in the realization that change is always possible and the goodness of God can and is often reflected in the goodness of people, especially in those you least expect.

I recall when I was much younger, my father and I were having car troubles. Someone actually stopped to help us (a rarity when you’re a black man in America). That someone was a burly man covered in tattoos, some of the Nazi variety. At first, we were apprehensive, but needed the help he so graciously offered. While pushing the car to the roadside, we all got to talking. He had recently got out of prison, and was seeking to make amends for his past. I find hope in knowing that at any point in time, we all have the capability to be like this man.

When we are born, our lives stream us into certain directions, some much more positive than others. When you face a stream of negativity, even though it can be extremely difficult, there is hope to change for the better. I find hope in knowing that I come from a long line of survivors. Those who came before me swam upstream. They fought tooth and nail to survive in a world that actively excluded and terrorized them while simultaneously fighting for liberties that we take for granted today. My ancestors, both far and near, faced adversity that I could never begin to imagine. It is because of them and their unwillingness to let life’s current sweep them away, here I am: hopefully passing the torch of a better life to my future children. I find hope in knowing that I too can overcome the circumstances of my birth and provide my posterity with better.”

William Dean Merriweather is a poet, a University of Notre Dame graduate, and the founder of Monarch Fashion Co. who will be attending New England Law School this fall. He is an encourager and peace-builder, and while at Notre Dame, dedicated time to helping me and many others register to vote.

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“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Hebrews 11:1

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Go forth, brave friends. I’ll see you next week 🙂