Sometimes things are just too heavy.
I felt the weight of trying to love everyone in ways I didn't know how, in a capacity I couldn't handle. The curriculum readings, the graduate class work, the trainings, the expectation of intentionally building relationships with my neighbors, my church, and my housemates. Suddenly, or maybe not so suddenly, it was too much. I just couldn't do it all. Something had to give. So my mind and body gave out. Physical and mental exhaustion took over, and for a week I trudged through, sleeping as often as possible.
I guess I'm not made for this. I would think.
How can I live in intentional community always angry, frustrated, upset with the people I live with, the people I'm supposed to be loving? How do I love them when I feel so tired and overwhelmed? What about all the things that seem like they will never change? What if I never change?
And, of course, as a last desperate plea: God, help.
I can't describe anything miraculous, but after a dream Monday night in which God rescued me again, I woke up Tuesday morning with a peace and joy I hadn't known since moving to Houston.
"Sometimes you just have to know...everything is gonna be ok," my roommate Taylor said.
That day I laughed with my housemates at work, met an elderly neighbor who introduced herself as Celeste, and had a beautiful conversation about racial reconciliation while eating cake-in-a-cup with my team.
Everything is gonna be ok.
There was an exceptional bright spot over the weekend.
My parents were able to stop by Houston for a day, spending our Friday together visiting Project Row Houses in Third Ward, walking through the Menil Collection, eating the most delicious pizza at Star Pizza, and searching the city for a Family Thrift store that has $1.50 Fridays.
Then there was Pinot's Pallete...
Monday night in our house is team night/"date night" when we intentionally spend time together as a whole team or as groups within our team, doing fun things and getting to know one another better.
This week we went out with my housemate Rediet's coworkers to a paint party.
As all the women sat on their stools in front of their canvases, paintbrush in hand, surrounded by pallets of color, Etta James' voice drifted into the room and all 30 women of different ages and races sand together, "Aaaaaat laaaaaaasssssssttttttt, my love has come along..." Beautiful.
I felt the weight of trying to love everyone in ways I didn't know how, in a capacity I couldn't handle. The curriculum readings, the graduate class work, the trainings, the expectation of intentionally building relationships with my neighbors, my church, and my housemates. Suddenly, or maybe not so suddenly, it was too much. I just couldn't do it all. Something had to give. So my mind and body gave out. Physical and mental exhaustion took over, and for a week I trudged through, sleeping as often as possible.
I guess I'm not made for this. I would think.
How can I live in intentional community always angry, frustrated, upset with the people I live with, the people I'm supposed to be loving? How do I love them when I feel so tired and overwhelmed? What about all the things that seem like they will never change? What if I never change?
And, of course, as a last desperate plea: God, help.
I can't describe anything miraculous, but after a dream Monday night in which God rescued me again, I woke up Tuesday morning with a peace and joy I hadn't known since moving to Houston.
"Sometimes you just have to know...everything is gonna be ok," my roommate Taylor said.
That day I laughed with my housemates at work, met an elderly neighbor who introduced herself as Celeste, and had a beautiful conversation about racial reconciliation while eating cake-in-a-cup with my team.
Everything is gonna be ok.
There was an exceptional bright spot over the weekend.
My parents were able to stop by Houston for a day, spending our Friday together visiting Project Row Houses in Third Ward, walking through the Menil Collection, eating the most delicious pizza at Star Pizza, and searching the city for a Family Thrift store that has $1.50 Fridays.
It was a wonderful way to say, "See ya later" as they head back to Kenya in a few weeks.
Monday night in our house is team night/"date night" when we intentionally spend time together as a whole team or as groups within our team, doing fun things and getting to know one another better.
This week we went out with my housemate Rediet's coworkers to a paint party.
As all the women sat on their stools in front of their canvases, paintbrush in hand, surrounded by pallets of color, Etta James' voice drifted into the room and all 30 women of different ages and races sand together, "Aaaaaat laaaaaaasssssssttttttt, my love has come along..." Beautiful.
Creating a Farmers Market...
Another beautiful part of Mission Year life is working as an intern at the Fifth Ward CRC (Community Redevelopment Corporation). At the moment, I am working on creating a local Farmers Market to make healthy local food more accessible to my neighbors.
I LOVE the work that goes into this! It seems mundane and boring, sitting at a computer researching bylaws, State regulations, permits, licenses, certifications, and requirements for creating a Farmers Market, but the behind-the-scenes work is definitely what I'm made for. In this process I am also searching for grants to fund the project which then requires that I learn how to create a Market budget, find a governing board, and seek out people who will run manage and run this project. I'm leaving in July and want to make sure this thing is sustainable and completely owned by my Fifth Ward neighbors.
My Mission Year Newsletter will be going out this week!
If you'd like to receive monthly updates on what is going on in my Mission Year life in Houston's Fifth Ward, please sign up below!
Didn't I tell you that community living is HARD? Your and everyone else's rough edges are going to get rubbed off and that is painful. Hang in there. I am really glad that God met you.
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