A Pie Slice of Justice

Over the course of my college career, I have often wondered to myself, "Why on earth am I a Sociology major? What made me choose it?"

I believe I had an answer yesterday during my senior seminar class. Professor Singu was talking in his usual manner at the beginning of class and said something that really caught my attention. "Sociology is the study of inequalities."

Now I've heard definitions of Sociology, I mean heck it's my major in college and I've only taken like eight or nine classes for it or something, but this one...this one was different. Inequality. Why would this particular word speak so loudly out of the rest of the words being used? What was so different when I heard this word?

I'd like to think it may have quite a lot to do to a commitment of justice that I try to live in my lifestyle. This is infact part of three important commitments, which are constant prayer, deep hospitality, and justice (something I learned from one of my incredible mentors and dear friend Dr. Elaine Heath).

If I am committed to justice, then wouldn't studying the disparities and inequalities of society be an almost perfect fit for me to study? Hah! I can't believe I never thought of this before. That nearly traveling through an entire journey of the college life, it took me to the beginning of my senior year to figure out why I would study a subject that you generally need a master's degree in to actually use.

How strangely perfect.
How interestingly placed.
How delightfully wondrous.

I feel ending with this quote is appropriate

"When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces. I see that I'm a little piece of a big big universe."- Hushpuppy

Standing By

The past 20 hours have been filled with so many oddities and strang-tastic moments its hard to believe. This is mostly due to me sitting in an airport for approximately 15 hours today.

It's not often you get the opportunity to fly standby, unless someone in your family is in the airline business. My first experience started off pretty grand and I got on the first flight I could have gotten on to Portland. 

The second experience was a little different. The first flight came and went. So did the second. As did the third. And then the final one was gone.

In this time span some pretty interesting things happened. I got some wonderful suggestions from some magnificent deviant friends to do some rather silly things. To name a few...

Stretch infront of people

Follow someone around and copy what they do

Sit by someone while they are reading and read their book while they read it

Wave and shout hello or affirmations to random people who passed by

Stick your tongue out when people look at you

Stop and tuck in your shirt and then untuck it in walking traffic

Now these were all super fun to do, especially because some people got a laugh out of it I am sure, but I also noticed some other items of interest about the standby passengers 

A woman crying because she didn't get on the plane

A man who is an employ of American Airlines who had to buy $400 ticket from another airlines because he couldn't get on a flight from his own company

People forming a temporary community because of their situation of distress

Having no where to go after not getting on any of the flights

A woman in her seventies who had been in the airport for two days because she could not get on a flight. She said this "Just because we are discounted flyers, they seem to punish us for not flying normally."

I learned quite a bit about this system today. Apparently, since fuel prices have gone up, the flight companies have decided to become more "efficient." Thus they have cut down on the number of flights and are now legally allowed to overbook flights. Infact, the flight companies have become so good at scheduling flights, that most flights are generally over booked. This makes it virtually impossible for standby fliers to get on a plane unless someone doesn't show up, which isn't often. This leaves people stranded in airports, cities that they do not know, and leave them under the ever hungry jaws of overpriced living arrangements that many standby fliers can't afford, thus the reason they are often on standby.

What if. hmm. What if there was an intentional Christian dedicated to the purpose of aiding our brothers and sisters who have been abandoned? What if there was a way where we could take them in, give them a place to stay that is free or fair at least, a place of hospitality, love, and justice? A place where they could be embraced and let them be known that they are not forgotten and not alone. Heck, what if this was true at ever major airport that happens in the country? 

How would peoples perspectives of a religion that many consider to be judgmental and hypocritical be changed? How would their lives be affected? Would they seek to embrace light because others brought it to them through this act?

As I ponder all this, I reminded that the Kingdom works in so many amazing and mysterious ways, that ideas and dreams are inspired by a divine and moving spirit, and that motion begins when there is a push, or in this case, a need.

Holy Spirit, move us, set us in motion, allow us to hear you call Lord to a place beyond loneliness to a place of warm embrace by the love you have passed onto us. Amen

Experiencing Flight

Tomorrow afternoon I fly to Portland, Oregon, a side of the states I've never seen. I cannot help but wonder and fantasize what this magical and mystical land may be like. I'm sure while I'm on the plane my head will be in the clouds.

It seems like whenever I go on an adventure like this to new and undiscovered territory for myself, I always start having a bit of anxiety. I think this is mostly because I think to myself "this is insane and unimaginable." How fortunate am I to be flying through the clouds, going to experience a new place where people live their daily lives in their own world. Heck, my world in Commerce, Texas is even drastically different than those along the border in Texas or even those near and in Dallas. How cool is it that I am getting the opportunity to experience the world of Mira,Eric, and Auggie, who I am staying with in Portland. A place where I could maybe possibly live someday!

Yes, my head is in the clouds simply because I've heard that Oregon is a place of amazing natural beauty. I keep on thinking about experiencing flight in a different life. I look at the rain today that we had today in Texas, and cannot help but be so thankful. Not only for it keeping the spraying of mosquitoes from the sky, but for the beginning of a new life and new experience for something new. Its that strange and divine interconnectedness with nature that seems bind our souls when we experience the life in new and different ways.

So, as I sit on the plane tomorrow and await the clouds and rains, I hope that I can still take the time to be appreciative of all that has been given and all the adventure that is waiting for me, and not let the clouds in my head get in the way.

Seeing a glimmer of light

"I realized that I need to let go"

Hope. I've hoped for a moment like this for years now. Hoped for a sign of life. Hoped for some kind of sign that life after so much pain and brokenness was possible. That purpose and reason to live would be seen rather than allowing the infinite sadness of loss slowly consume his soul. I've wanted him to catch a glimpse of true light for so long now.

I've so dearly hoped to hear these words from my father.

For the first time in nearly 5 years I have seen true life in him.

I am so beyond grateful and can only hope that with continued prayer and working together, a healing journey will take place, true healing from the warm and motherly embrace of the Divine. Yahweh.

He's finally caught a glimmer of the light in his eye.

ROC & Roll

Last week when I was returning from Los Fresnos, I texted my friend Sarah asking if I could come visit and volunteer at the non-profit she works at called the ROC. I honestly still do not know what the ROC stands for, but I found myself standing in a gem within a rock encrusted suburbia. 

Now my experience of whenever you allow yourself to walk into a place where you know virtually no one to volunteer, you are bound to become completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the experience. You can choose to be the silent vulture who talks to no one or allow the people there to sweep you off your feet. I have a tendency to choose the first, as my nature is an introvert. Fortunately, as soon as I was out of the car, I was recruited to carry in a poster.

Inside the ROC, I found something familiar, something new, something unique, and something that resembled a home for an extremely large extended family. The place was abuzz with pre-k kids playing, high schoolers stooping and lurking in the corners, to adults running around in an attempt to organize what refused to be organized, and senior citizens simply sitting and enjoying the sight. You see, this is a building where 27 different ministries meet and use the building (maybe churches could learn a thing or two from this in terms of building use?).

I cannot help but be filled with gratitude for those who run and work at the building, like Sarah, because oh what they have been able to accomplish there. They had managed to create an atmosphere of true hospitality that created a clear presence of joy that radiated through the people there. As a sat up stairs at one point, I couldn't help but imagine the holy spirit flying around the heads of the people there in its wondrous wisps and flames, carefully entering different people's hearts in different moments, moving too and from each person, slowly connecting and uniting them as creation was meant to be. Together.

Watching all of this happen filled me up with so much joy, that I couldn't help but return a second day to see it all happen again. It's not often in our busy lives that we get to take the time to stop, watch, listen, and experience moments like this. I am reminded through this, that God works so many wonders at the same time in so many places, places that we cannot see or do not know about. But they are happening! They are alive and well! 

And for this I am beyond grateful. I can hardly begin to comprehend such joy and beauty in one moment. 

Interestingly, I just finished a book by Henri Nouwen that speaks of joy and gratitude as choices in our life and as disciplines.

"Resentment and gratitude cannot coexist, since resentment blacks the perception and experience of life as a gift. My resentment tells me that I don't receive what I deserve. It always manifests itself in envy.

Gratitude, however, goes beyond the 'mine' and 'thine' and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift."

"Gratitude as a discipline involves a conscious choice"

"This is a real discipline. It requires choosing for the light even when there is much darkness to frighten me, choosing for life even when the forces of death are so visible, and choosing for the truth even when I am surrounded by lies."

"Every moment of each day I have the chance to choose between cynicism and joy"

I pray and hope that we can find the courage to step out of the darkness of cynicism and resentment. So often we can allow ourselves to fall into that silent figure in the background because we are afraid to become vulnerable enough to experience the joys of the present.

Returning Home

It wasn't too long ago when I picked up my bags and left the comforts, pleasures, and desires of my childhood behind; physically going to a desolate wasteland to intentionally live in the margins of society for the first time of my life. There were more than lessons taught, it was a movement in the spirit that caused a change in my lifestyle. There was more than a simple awakening, there was a people who's hearts were connected together suddenly by a holy fire. There was more than life, there was a realization of the interconnectedness and need of all living beings that breath the life of creation.

But that, that was only the beginning.

This past week, I returned home. I returned to a incredible family. A broken family. A family that has lost so much and seen so many other lose even more. A family that took me in, broken and lost as I was, and called me beloved.

This is me when I was 18 working on a stool with Jesse when he was 8

This is him and I this week. I am 21 and he is 11

This week was not only a week of celebration though. This was a week where I rediscovered my passion for  the marginalized and the forgotten. I remember my desire for justice. I recalled why I commit myself to a contemplative life of prayer and listening.

One man we met this week was named Ceasar [pronounced "Say-Zarr"]. He helped us this week on the dorms we painted and went to the beach with us. He spoke only Spanish and brought his son to help us. He seemed like just a normal, and kind fellow from the community. 

At the end of the week, I found out he had a severe case of schizophrenia and had attempted suicide three weeks before we came. Him, his wife, and three children lived in a garage with no windows. His oldest son sleeps on the floor. He kept on telling Larry this week that he was worried the voices would come back and tell him to try to kill himself again.

The hardest part after hearing this, is recalling a moment when he was gently holding his 1 and a half year old daughter in his arms trying to get her to say "da-da" and "hola". He held her so sweetly, like a mother. You could see his spirit sounding into her and you could see her spirit giving him life. 

If I could go back to that moment when I saw him and his daughter, I would go back, hug them both, and hold on for dear life. I know that is what Larry is doing with Sazar. I know that is what Sazar is doing with his daughter. And I know God is holding onto them all and constantly trying to remind them that they are beloved.

In this moment in my spiritual journey, in my life, I know with more certainty than ever that I need to be among people like Ceasar, the marginalized, the forgotten. I know that they need their stories shared more than any one else and they need people to share them with others.

So, I hope to use this blog to share these stories, their stories, my stories, and peoples journey's to and from home.