a bit about what simple living is looking like to us through the YAV program

Over the past almost two years, Kendra and I have been participants in the Presbyterian Church (USA)'s Young Adult Volunteer Program. In short, we are PC(USA) YAVs. The program offers young adults an opportunity to serve in various facets of ministry and nonprofit work while getting a hands-on experience on what it means to live simply. I've talked about the different aspects of the program before but would like to give a little more in-depth look at these characteristics of our service look like.

First, the work. Last year in Belfast I served part-time in a faith-based community center doing peace and reconciliation work in North Belfast, specifically in the New Lodge and the Shankill. I also served part-time at Woodvale Methodist where I was able to participate in and lead a variety of ministries that the church offered. This year, I work at Community Home Repair Projects of Arizona (CHRPA for those of you who would like another acronym in this post). CHRPA is a non profit that provides free home repairs through a number of different grants to low-income and disadvantaged homeowners in Pima County. I am out each day doing these repairs alongside my fellow handymen and handywomen. The two years have been an interesting juxtapostion of two very different types of hands-on ministry.

la Casa Banana (our home)

Now, living simply. Much of the clientele whom CHRPA serves makes more money than I do. I tell you this because that is one aspect of living simply in the YAV program. But it works. In our community, we each pay $150 per month and that covers our shared food and utilities expenses. Economics works in our favor. We eat well, and we live in a nice house. Rent comes out to $170 per person each month. In short, we have learned to cover most of our basic needs on a little more than $300 per month. It is worth noting, however, that health insurance is not lumped into that sum. Fortunately, for those who do not qualify to still be on their parents' health insurance or do not have health insurance, the program does offer us coverage.

backyard chickens

But living simply is much more than finding out that we can survive on a lot less than we thought we could and still maintain a great standard of living. Living simply is about being in solidarity with those whom you serve. It's about having to face problems with the system you didn't even know existed.  It's about understanding that the American Dream is not a sustainable way to live. The world cannot afford the American Dream (and I don't mean that specifically monetarily). And it's about trying to get out of the way so that you can find God in more parts of this world. By that, I mean to share how trying to live more simply has provided me with a way to find God in the dirt in our backyard. I have found God in the manure that fills our garden and in the chicken poop that sticks to my shoes each morning. I have found God in the blossoming squash and cacti. Living simply has allowed me to collect my thoughts each morning as I bike the eight miles to work. We don't drive (often). Our bikes are our main mode of transportation.  Additionally, I have found that I have time to focus on those around me and that there are so many little joys to be found in interactions with housemates and even daily tasks.

Early in this year, I was reading Rob Bell's Jesus Wants to Save Christians. One of my favorite excerpts from the books reads:

"Take away the comforts of the kingdom, deprive a person of the structures and institutions of empire, and they might just find the spine to envision a new tomorrow. Push a person to the limits of suffering, and they just might become a revolutionary."

We are not suffering. We live comfortably but not always in the comforts of any empire. Through these two years of service, we have begun to understand living in the comfort of a different Kingdom. So, I hope this post gives you a little more insight into what motivated us to do the YAV program.  We were trying to get out of ourselves in order to make more room for the world around us. And thank God, I think we have succeeded in that endeavor a little bit and found it to be truly amazing. We have found ourselves envisioning that new tomorrow and it's nearly as exciting as today.

Enid, Austin & Kendra finding the joy in today

today
I wish to serve.
today
I want to learn.
today
I desire to be a part of
a beautiful world
before me
behind me
all around me
within me.
today.
tomorrow.
(an excerpt from a September journal entry)

a tale of two cities, two placements, two countries, one people

Belfast, where Kendra and I spent our first YAV year, is remarkably different from Tucson and the rest of Arizona. It's wet and cold/mild versus dry and hotter than hot. It's one-hundred shades of lush green versus one-hundred shades of some brownish-yellowish-greenish color. It's the majority of the people I work with having an accent that took a few months to get used to compared to a small portion of the population I serve preferring to converse in a language I am simply a novice at. In terms of my work, both places are very relational. However, my hands get a lot more beat up in Tucson.  But in Arizona there is one striking resemblance to Belfast. 

the border wall in Nogales

The wall pictured above is the border wall that separates Nogales, AZ and Nogales, Sonora. Walls are built out of fear. Fear of colors. Fear of languages. Fear of some other. And it all links in to a fear of the loss of power. And walls inhibit. In a Christian sense, they inhibit us from interacting with our neighbor. They inhibit us from loving our neighbor. Keeping someone out is never loving and keeping yourself in robs the world and its people of the gifts you have to offer. Are there times to be afraid? Yes. But we should never let fear dictate our actions. We should never let fear dictate our relationships with other people, especially as self-proclaiming followers of Christ.  

So today, I hope we seek out our neighbor, whomever we find that person to be.

I hope we question why we keep others out and ourselves in. 

And I hope we decided that fear will not dictate our actions and that Love will.

hello again - a much delayed update with a story from CHRPA

It's been a bit of a long hiatus. But just because I haven't blogged doesn't mean I haven't been enjoying Tucson. It's great! The past seven months have been full of important learning experiences and the building of wonderful life-enriching relationships. Our housemates are a blast and have become a great support system for the two of us. We have also each found great people in those we work alongside each day.

One aspect of working at CHRPA is writing stories about our experiences with clients and the different jobs that we go out and do. I'm not very good at this, having only written two in my time now. But these stories, from past and current volunteers and employees alike, have been and are being compiled into books. Some stories even accompany grant applications. Scott, the director of CHRPA, frequently asks us to write stories. Yesterday, I finally got my second one to him and would like to now share it with you all.

Her bathroom sink didn’t drain. Her shower didn’t drain. The light above the sink hung to the side clinging with everything it had for life.  It was the only usable bathroom in the house and only Señora Barrera’s toilet functioned. She rarely left her room. In the week I spent there, she came out to the kitchen to fry up some eggs a couple of times. Her cancer left her tired and our jackhammering certainly didn’t help that situation. But Señora Barrera didn’t deserve to spend the rest of her life without a functioning bathroom.  

We jackhammered through the concrete floor and then dug down another foot on our hands and knees to get to the drain. We traced it from the shower back about five feet before finding cast iron pipe that wasn’t cracked and broken. We built a new drain from this point of good pipe back to shower and the sink. Nearly fifteen bags of concrete later, we had the floor back in order. We then laid new tile on the shower floor and the bathroom floor, working our way into the hall and repairing tile there, too.

It was clear that Señora Barrera’s home once housed a large family. She was living alone while we worked there, and yet, despite the lack of a usable bathroom, her house was still the place her granddaughter and great-granddaughter spent each afternoon. It is my hope and belief that we left her home having helped make it a place where her family could continue to happily gather.

jackhammers are really loud in such a small space!

just about to the end of the destruction

floor back in place with new tile