Wolverine

I take great pleasure in watching my injuries heal -- it makes me feel like Wolverine. (If only)



Since I got home, the four-stitch slice on my ankle has healed remarkably well, and quickly. I had the stitches removed Tuesday for $35, after which I realized I definitely could have cut them out myself. Still, it was fun to confuse the doctor with my roofing story. Soon it will be just a memory and an incredibly groovy scar. I can't wait to tell the story of my epic battle with roofing tin to curious passersby who happen to glance closely at my right ankle.


There it is, my arch-nemesis.

As my ankle heals, I can't help but worry that my experiences and lessons from this summer are fading with it. Which is why I decided I had to post once more to conclude my summer. I've now been home one week, and it feels alternately like a year and an hour. My friends at Meeting Ground have taught my so much. Leaving last Monday was the most difficult and most surreal experience. I kept finding reasons to walk around the farm one more time and say goodbye to one more person.

Now that I'm home, the most difficult challenge has been explaining my summer every time someone asks the polite, "How was your summer? What have you been doing?" There is no easy way to explain where I lived and who I met and worked with without doing someone or some aspect of Meeting Ground an injustice. So far its been easiest to mention "homelessness" and "mission work" and "best decision ever" and let the other person be impressed and pleased for me. But that doesn't really accomplish what I could in such opportunities. My goal should be to pass along something of what I learned about people and homelessness and love. If I come across more eloquent and successful ways of sharing my experience, I'm sure you will hear of it.

I want to thank everyone who read my blog this summer. If you hadn't made it clear you'd miss me, I wouldn't have thought to start a blog. Without this blog, I'm not sure I would be as able to remember the people I met and articulate the important lessons I learned about life, and about myself. I hope I have an occasion to continue blogging in the future. For now, don't take me off your bookmarks!

The End is Near

The summer is not long enough. The past few days I've finally become close with a kids on the farm I've previously been unable to get near. RJ has always been quiet around me, and I've never wanted to disturb him. He's the oldest of Harriet's seven kids (I think he's 16 or 17) and has a lot on his plate. He's a pretty quiet kid in general; I'd say he has a lot to think about. Today the work group played Bingo with all the kids, and RJ's younger brother, Peter, won an Uno deck. So Peter, RJ, Bonnie (a member of the work group) and I played. We were laughing and competing. This was the first time I was able to really sit around with both RJ and Peter. I am so grateful I could play with them. Later tonight, RJ asked if he could help out with the work groups. I only wish I had gotten to know him sooner. There's so much I want to talk to him about. Not least of all his goals. I can tell he is a smart kid, and has so much potential. I want him to know he can be more than any humiliation he may be feeling as a result of his situation. It can't be easy to be a high school student at a homeless shelter. He has more responsibility and more experience than I ever had in high school. All of Harriet's kids are beautiful and strong, and I know they each have incredibly busy minds, even little NairNair. Perhaps especially him. I wonder what its like to be the youngest of seven, and homeless to boot.

I've decided I want to write everyone here a card before I leave. I have so much I want to tell everyone, and so much that I don't know how to say. People keep asking me why I'm leaving, especially Patrick and Patricia. Its so hard to have to tell them my job is ending. I don't know how many times I've promised to visit.

Speaking of leaving, Hannah and her family left about two weeks ago. I'm so worried about her. Well, about all of them. When they were getting ready to leave, I wanted to just grab her, jump in my car and take her home with me. She needs so much more than her mother is able to give her. Hannah has a long, scary, and difficult history. She has two different futures, I think. There is so much strength and hope in her, but there is also too much room for depression and desperation. I'm afraid that without someone to lean on, someone who cares solely for her, she could fall into serious depression. As it is, she takes on too much responsibility in her family, caring for her baby brother and foregoing her own needs, especially her homework. With enough confidence and someone to work through her history with, Hannah could rock this world. I miss her smile. She has a beautiful, open, and truthful smile, and an incredibly vulnerable face. I can't remember how many times I made her hug me goodbye.

Old Bay

I've been meaning to post these pictures for a while now. Monday night (2 weeks ago), we ended up with a large quantity of Maryland blue crabs. So they boiled them with some Old Bay seasoning (apparently the only way to have true Maryland crabs), covered two tables with newspaper and everyone dug in. The following pictures remind me of the warmth and love of Thanksgiving with your family:

Sometimes the people on the farm all seem to be working against each other, and it can be incredibly disheartening to be a part of a community with so many splinters. When someone added some blue crabs and Old Bay seasoning that night, the whole farm seemed to come back together. Sisters and brothers were helping each other rip open the crabs and find the most succulent pieces. People sat next to each other who normally wanted little to do with the other, and everyone shared in the delicious mess of crabby goodness. I have never enjoyed crab so much in my life!

Even after we had cleaned up the giant mess of crab bits afterward, my lips still stung with the seasoning, and I can clearly remember the warm, comfortable feeling of tearing apart and devouring delectable crabs among dear friends and family.

Home

Realized today that I belong here. Thought that was something of note. I finally feel comfortable on the farm. Maybe that's the wrong word. I feel at home here. I know where things are (or who to ask if I don't), I know everyone's name, and everyone knows me. I am friends with my Clairvaux Farm family. Fancy that! I don't think its possible to adequately express how excited I am about this.

Today has been a really good day for the farm. Cameron is staying! Alison (she manages the farm, lots of responsibility and stress and amazingness) had a long conversation with him, and they decided he could stay. This morning, he told me her was leaving, and I made it clear how much I would be thinking about him, and that I would really truly miss him. And this afternoon, he told me I'd have to deal with him being around for a while longer! Hurray! I realized then that Cameron and I are friends. We hugged, and I really felt love for this man who I only met one month ago.

Its funny to have friends who are so different from me, in so many ways. Normally, one "knows" someone in a different age group, and is "friends" with someone in the same age group. My new friends are so important.

The other day, Udo mentioned that next week is the midpoint of the summer. I can't believe it. Earlier, I was thinking about the day I leave. What will that be like? How can I ever say goodbye to my friends here?

Thick Skin

There have been far too many thoughts rattling around in my head for the past week or so. Haven't been able (or perhaps I've been too lazy?) to sit down and make them coherent. Sorry for the lack of posts lately.

I started this post about a week ago:

"Kara was evicted from the farm today. The staff write an eviction note and either hand it to the resident or leave it on their bed. I cannot imagine making the decision to evict someone from this place. Eviction must be the hardest part of working here."

I read the letter they put on her bed. What do you say in something like that? Obviously, these decisions have to be made, but we all know there aren't many places to go if you get evicted from Meeting Ground. This is the place you come when you're evicted from other places. Before the woods, this is the last stop.

We were talking about evictions one night, and Sam told me I should work on my thick skin. I know this is good advice, but I can't bring myself not to be concerned, depressed, disappointed, and disheartened when I hear about an eviction. Cameron was evicted last week as well. He's supposed to be off the farm by... well, I can't remember the deadline. Anyway, he only has a few days left. Kara's eviction was not this painful because I did not know her very well. She kept to herself for the most part, and was often out at NA meetings (or so she said. It turns out, she wasn't always at NA meetings when she said she was. This was one the many reasons for her eviction.) Anyway, Cameron was evicted because he was drunk on the farm. The staff have no choice but to evict someone caught drunk or high on the farm. I don't get the feeling that they give second chances for transgressions of this kind. I will really miss Cameron.

I overhead a conversation he was having the other night, talking about his future. He'll go back to living in the woods when he leaves the farm. He didn't seem too concerned about this, which is likely because he's spent a significant amount of time living in the woods in the past. Apparently, he's been able to save some money up since he's been here, so he won't go hungry. I hope he finds more permanent housing before too long. I don't like to think of anyone living in the woods.

I should mention that some of the fake names I put in the blog have complex reasons. For instance, Cameron. He reminds me of Farmer Maggot (of Tolkien fame) because he has a harsh, tough exterior (and small children like young Frodo Baggins are sometimes frightened of him) but he's really a kind, wise man. I have a lot of respect for Cameron. In the film version of The Fellowship of the Ring, Farmer Maggot is played by someone named Cameron (I looked it up on Wikipedia, because I didn't want anyone's fake name to be Maggot. That seems rude, despite my kind intentions.)

Speaking of the woods, Ronald was telling me today that he's leaving tomorrow to go back to the woods. Have no idea if he is actually leaving, and if he'll be coming back. I have learned that Ronald doesn't lie. He exaggerates, but he tells what he knows or remembers. Now, what Ronald knows or remembers may be far from reality, but he isn't lying. Apparently he also smashed his flat screen TV yesterday in some fit of passion. This is not something I have the capacity to explain. He was telling me about it this evening after dinner while I was petting Leo, one of the fat orange cats.

Leo loves his belly rubbed, and Leo is the toughest of the cats on the farm, or so I gather. You can hear the cats yowling and screaming at night whilst they spar in their claw-y cat-y, badass way. Leo never has scratches; most of the other cats do. What a bully. Buddy is still my favorite though. He's the one I named "Kiitttteeenn" when we first met. I still prefer to call him that. His friend whose name I still don't know (they look the same, but her eyes are more yellow and she is much more skittish) has been warming up to me. We have fun running around the barn after each other when I've closed the barn up for the day. I've been calling her Sweetheart, Lovely, and Darling. I don't think she responds to any of those names. Oh well.

When I started this post a week ago, I had not yet found my groove with last week's group. Here are some initial thoughts:

"I pre-judged this group. They are really a great group of kids. I also neglected breakfast this morning in favor of extra sleep. Bad decision-making skills.

Anyway, the kids in this group are all super interested in hearing the stories of residents. This gains them my respect."

By the end of the week, I was a big fan of these fantastic kids from Hilton Head, South Carolina. (They drove 13 hours to get here! Hot dang!) There were 13 youth, from age 13 to 18, a married couple (Teresa and Donny) and their 7-year old, Cooper. Each of the youth had so much to give and they gave in giant bountiful buckets of love and energy. The kids on the farm became so attached to this group -- they really made time to get to know everyone here. They knew nearly everyone's name by the end of the week. On Thursday they threw a pizza party for the whole farm, complete with kickball, volleyball, and water balloons. I think this group, so far out of all the groups, really got the point of the trip the best. They really became part of the community of Meeting Ground with all their whole selves; they kept nothing back. In Chapel last week, the visiting Chaplain (can't remember his name) talked about keeping nothing from God. He explained that we have to give everything to God, even our sins, and only then... well I don't remember how he put it. Anyway, they weren't there for that Chapel service, but they embodied it so well, they may as well have been there. I was sad to see them go on Saturday (especially as they left at 6:00AM, and I got up to see them off. Ugh.)

This is Emily and Max. They may look happy, but they were rather nervous up in the roof. I was so proud they conquered their fears and supported each other on the roof to finish painting the trim on the gable of the family house.

I realized the other night that not only have each of the work groups given me something through their presence here, their energy and their work, but I have souvenirs! The first group gave me a pair of nice work gloves, the second a birthday card and a bracelet. Last week's group does this fabulous thing where they each get a necklace at the beginning of the week. They wear it all week, and on the last day give it to someone they met. Dylan gave me his on Friday. I was incredibly touched and have been wearing it since. Its neat, because there are 16 of these necklaces on different people around the farm.

Happy Birthday to Me!

When I drove up to Berkeley Heights, NJ Wednesday afternoon for my Grandma's service on Thursday I must have played the song "Teenage Dirtbag" at least 10 times. Yesterday I turned 20. I was really dreading it, mostly because the end of my teen years seemed really daunting. Being 20 seems really important and responsible. (Of course, not yet responsible enough to buy alcohol, but that's beside the point.)

I have a sneaking suspicion that Grandma contrived to time it just right so that I could be with my family on my birthday. It was really wonderful to see everyone on my dad's side of the family. It's been too long, Kelley family. The service was, as they say, very nice, and I'm really truly glad I went. If I hadn't gone, I don't think I would have ever said goodbye to Pink Grandma.

After the service, there was a lot of food, and this really beautiful cake. Someone was taking pictures, maybe they will send them to me. (wink wink, nudge nudge) Anyway, it was lovely to have my whole family sing to me on my birthday. My parents got me all the right books, too, and wrapped them very nicely, I must say. (I also appreciated the birthday serenade 10 minutes after I woke up, groggy and looking to have a shower. Thanks family!)

When I got up this morning, back at the farm, my birthday seemed surreal. But then I was surprised when some of the work group presented me with a lovely birthday poster, chocolate, and a bracelet! I made some of them hug me. It was very cute and awkward, but I was so touched! Of course, later at dinner, they produced an entire chocolate cake, complete with candles and my name spelled correctly! Here's a picture after we demolished the cake and I realized I didn't have a picture.

Throughout dinner and most of the day, I was also surprised with hugs and birthday wishes from residents and staff. The farm really is a large family. Harriet (remember, I've changed everyone's names) even gave me a hug, which I was not expecting. Jordan also wished me a happy day.

Speaking of Jordan, on Tuesday we had the traditional discussion with the work groups and a few residents. I asked Jordan, who works in the kitchen, and Mary, who only got here last week, to tell their stories to the group. They were so willing and gracious about it, especially considering my last-minute organization of the evening. I was so nervous about putting together this evening for the group, and it went better than I could have imagined. Jordan is a born public speaker. He actually mentioned that he wants to be a minister, eventually. He told such a powerful story about his life and his faith, and he told it with such candor and sincerity. Everyone here is so beautiful. After Jordan spoke (and then returned to the kitchen to bake cookies!), Mary told her family's story. They were evicted from their home the first week of June and had been living in a motel with their two adorable children (Pat and Patricia and 3 and 5, I believe). Yesterday, Joel, Mary's husband, got a job selling carpets, and the whole farm is excited for them. Both Joel and Mary have such strong faith and are so grateful to God that they are here, together, with their children. No other homeless shelter would have allowed the four of them to stay together as a family. I am so grateful to have met them, and I hope Joel's new job allows them to get their own place again soon.

Loaves and Fishes

Carl Mazza, the director/founder of Meeting Ground was kind enough to ask me to write an article for their bi-monthly newsletter, Loaves and Fishes. Here is what I sent him:

Comfort Zones

Since arriving here at Clairvaux Farm on Wednesday, June 3, the word “comfort” has maintained a constant presence in my thoughts. First, I was physically uncomfortable after my long car ride here from my home on Long Island. I received such warm welcomes from everyone I met my first few days I couldn’t help but feel comforted. The individual people here are all welcoming. It’s the experience of being here that sets me outside of my comfort zone. Everything about Meeting Ground is radical, and brilliant. The interactions between people here are all new and important. This organization brings people together who would not normally even have the opportunity to set eyes on one another. My primary responsibility here as the Summer Intern is to oversee and assist the work groups that come to learn and give. I think they learn most by their interactions with the residents and staff of Meeting Ground, people they would not otherwise speak with.

I was fortunate enough to be here for the Annual Meeting, a gathering of all those who contribute to Meeting Ground. As it was only my third full day at the farm, I was still unsure of my place in the community. Randy’s sermon during the service has been immensely helpful to me as I sort out my thoughts about Meeting Ground and living on the farm here. During his sermon, Randy used Genesis 12 to discuss the importance of leaving one’s comfort zone for God. Anyone who comes to Meeting Ground is leaving his or her comfort zone. The story of God’s call for Abraham to leave his comfortable, secure life for an undisclosed destination reassured me. I could have found summer employment closer to home, somewhere with air conditioning, somewhere that follows more traditional rules of operation. Sometimes, I wish I were somewhere else, somewhere easier, and more comfortable.

Instead, I am here. The first work group came last week, and with them came energy and lots of work. When she first arrived, one woman in the first group timidly asked me if I felt safe on the farm. I almost laughed at the thought. Of course I immediately assured her that I was perfectly comfortable here, and at that moment I really felt it to be true. When I let myself, I am perfectly at home at Meeting Ground. This organization and the people here are a home. I have found myself more than once referring to the farm as home, and I have only been here a few weeks. Similarly, I have a strong faith in God when I allow myself to. Most times, I am too busy thinking to let myself believe in God. There are times when I forget to be too logical and God slips in. These are the same times when Clairvaux Farm is my home.