on being brave

Dear Hilary,

You wrote this blog post a while back and it's bringing tears to my eyes as I read it right now. It was called "Dear Hilary, Be Braver".

I've been thinking about being brave and believing the good truth about myself and who I am. I've been pondering it as I drove to a beautiful wedding on a Saturday afternoon, and as I drive to work sometimes before the sun comes up.

Hilary, I don't feel brave.

The truth is that I feel more scared than brave. Scared of my own limits and what I can and can't do. Scared of insecurity and what I say and what I should have said, scared of being alone. I've come to terms with the fear: I'm looking at it directly with both eyes fixed on it, trying to decide what I want to do with the fear. And I turned to your writing for encouragement, because I already knew I could find it there:

"Brave looks like wearing bright blue pants on a Friday night, like eating Ben & Jerry’s from the carton, like whispering to your best friend that you do not know if you can believe that you are worthy. Yes, un-vulnerable, brave is in the work of admitting all the places where you ache. This year, my year of 22, I have learned that to be brave is to walk into a room and, for just a moment, believe that all things work together for the good."

Do you remember that poem we had to read as TGC fellows? The one about courage in the small things by Anne Sexton? 

("It is in the small things we see it.

The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,

wallowing up the sidewalk....")  

I think about that poem all the time. I think about the small things: I wonder what it would be like if I encouraged myself to believe that it is in the small things that I, too, am brave.

Thank you for reminding me that bravery isn't just in the climbing Mt. Everest and acing a job interview: bravery is believing in ourselves and staring at truth that is the aching. Thank you for reminding me that it's brave to recognize our own weakness and love ourselves in spite of it, it's brave to speak a different language even when you make a hundred mistakes, it's brave to ask the hard questions, it's brave to roller blade at lunch with the dorky helmet because you just want to be reminded that exercise is fun again.

Do you think it's possible to change our outlook on being brave? I think the world needs it: we all need more encouragement in the small things, we need to be reminded that they matter. Because it's in those moments (seemingly small) that we see truth: that we are beautiful, that we are capable of more than we think we are, and that rollerblading is in its own dorky fashion, perhaps the funnest way to spend a Monday lunch break. 

It's in the small things, Hilary. Thank you for teaching me that.

Love, Alyssa

a milestone

October 12th marked one year at my job here in Santa Barbara (yikes!).

Since graduating college, I've been thinking more about how we measure time -- by school years, birthdays, new year's, anniversarys, etc. I have (for now) concluded that I want to mark time by all of these dates.

As I think about one year working after college, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for what I have learned and the amazing people I have gotten to meet along the way. Here are a few of the things I've learned/appreciated after one year in medical billing...

1) The people you work with are just as important (maybe more important) than the job itself...I think that's self-explanatory, but I think sometimes we can get so wrapped up in what a job looks like on paper that we don't get to think about how our company/people treat each other. I've learned how important this is to me and how much I need to value it

2) Medical billing is interesting: maybe people disagree with me on that one, but I have honestly found a genuine interest in learning about insurance reimbursements, allowed amounts for CPT codes, insurance contracting, explaining how PPOs and EPOs and HMOs work, talking to doctor's, schedulers, and patients, learning the difference between ACL allografts and autografts, how much are supplies for an osteotomy or bunionectomy, etc.

3) Having a friend as your work partner is the biggest gift. I'm thankful for the email chats to one another while we're on hold with insurance companies, treating each other to americanos when we need a pick-me-up, encouraging each other to be bolder in getting to meet more people at the office, and understanding/putting up with each other (mostly me) when we're having a crappy day. One of the biggest things I enjoy about my job is working with my dear friend, Chloe (our desks are about 2 feet apart from each other :)) She's a huge gift for a hundred reasons, but working with her is one of those many reasons

4) Corporate Social Responsibility: did you know that companies that are for-profit can seek to impact their community and make a difference? Through tutoring junior highers to carpooling to work to dreaming about making an outdoor classroom at the Westside Boys & Girls Club, I've learned a lot about what corporate culture can look like and how it can be an influence beyond its office doors

5) Work can be satisfying and meaningful in unexpected ways: I didn't graduate with the hopes of working in medical billing, but I've found joy and satisfaction in my job -- from discovering new things about insurance to thinking about how to be an ethical business in how we collect money from patients, I'm really thankful for where I get to spend eight hours of my day

Excited for year #2!

a bench

A few weeks ago, Gordon College dedicated two benches for two lost loved ones: Dr. David Lumsdaine, a beloved professor of mine, and a first-year student named Monica who died in a car accident last spring. I was given the privilege of reading a passage of Scripture with two other students (friends of Monica) and the dedication also included two reflections from faculty and residence life staff, as well as a prayer recitation and word of dedication by our campus pastor.

But, why a bench?

I think the bench matters because if loving people is as important as it is, then remembering them (those whom we have loved, and those who have loved us back) is something we ought to pursue as well. And I can't think of a more fitting place to remember a person by than a bench: where conversations, peace, and rest, can all happen simultaneously (because all of this is exactly what he would have wanted).

The bench isn't there just to remember, although it will certainly help us to do so. The bench is also there to honor someone who loved deeply and genuinely. The bench is there so that we reflect on what that love meant to us and how we let it flow in our own lives. The bench is there because loss is real and deep -- and we need a place to gather around that loss.

I cried for the first time that afternoon for Dr. Lumsdaine.

It felt good to cry those tears there -- by that bench, with those people -- because that was his family, and they knew all the things that made him the unique man that he was.

The verses read in his honor got to me because they captured so much of his character. The reflections were moving because they showed that a community had come to love the unique and quirky sides of who he was. The prayers were comforting, as well as silencing, as we both grieved death, and rejoiced in future life together.

I'm really glad that bench is there -- sitting underneath a tree, in the middle of a busy intersection on campus that I crossed a hundred times, sometimes burdened by books and heavy thoughts, sometimes joyfully skipping with friends to get dinner. There's comfort in knowing there's a bench to return to when I go back. There's comfort knowing that I can sit on that bench in that place and know a friend or two who can share stories of who this man was, and how he was part of a college community that changed my life.

I think the bench is there for more than remembering and honoring; I think it's also there for comforting and giving peace.

And I smile as I put those thoughts together because I think that's exactly what Dr. Lumsdaine would have wanted (he always wanted to comfort, he always sought peace).

So, I'm thankful for that bench. Thankful for what it means and who it honors and the peace it brings. I didn't know a place to sit could bring all of those things.

summer according to my iphone

I'm still trying to figure out the beginning and ending points of summer since now school isn't in the picture. In terms of weather, summer is still here, but Libby is off to school next week and Kelsey the next, so in a way "summer" in school terms is ending...so I guess it's an appropriate time for a blog post reflecting on summer 2013.

My summer highlights include: my work's softball team (we played Thursday nights at Elings Park -- so. much. fun), family vacays to Washington and Lake Arrowhead, and beginning to play soccer Sunday nights on the Westside. 

Here are some pics to document!

post-running with the padre.

Trip to Washington! Perfect way to begin? BERRIES GALORE. We were in heaven with all those delicious raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. 

Visiting with Grandma -- Dad even wore an apron. It was very cute.

Aaron's wedding! Here the cousins are -- just missing Kels. The wedding was BEAUTIFUL. One of the highlights was the long days of sunlight ..sun doesn't go down until like 9:30! The wedding was in a beautiful chapel and the reception was outside and there were lawn games, delicious BBQ dinner and lawn games, and pie too!

It was a highlight to be with my dad's family and I treasured time with my uncles, aunts, grandmas, cousins, and cousin's baby! 

Stephie is getting married! My cousin is getting married in October and we had a fun time going down to Orange County one weekend to help in celebrating the soon-to-be Mrs. Mertz!

And my other cousins, Andrea and Scott, are home from Cambodia, with their adorable son Zachary in tow! He's pretty fun to hang out with

Lake Arrowhead: we celebrated Grandpa's birthday in style with a week in the mountains. I'm so thankful for good vacation benefits and was able to take the whole week off. We enjoyed swimming, jacuzzi time, reading, sleeping in, good food (too much of it!), and just being together. And, I didn't wear make-up for a whole week! That's definitely a highlight on my list :)

And Kelsey came home. The Baker girls are back together again. I guess I'm the only one who's excited about it.

Jean Bethke Elshtain 1941-2013

photo courtesy of Chicago Tribune

Considering the fact that I have a rather small blog following (but I love the 10 of you consistent readers!! Thank you for reading!), I'm assuming that of those 10 readers, none have heard of this woman named Jean Bethke Elshtain before. She passed away earlier this week and I wanted to write about her because she had an impact on my studies in Political Science. And a year after graduating, I realize how much I miss reading her work, among others. It still blows my mind a little that I grew to love political theory (well, it's more of a love-hate relationship ...loving the class discussions, hating writing long papers), and she was one of those thinkers who helped me write papers and ask good questions in class.

She wrote about pluralism. She wrote about gender. She wrote about the common good. She wrote about politics and ethics and so many important things in a way that kept political theory sort of "grounded"...what I mean by that is you can easily make political theory something so distant from reality, or you can think about political theory in the ways it touches all aspects of our social order. Elshtain went with the latter which is probably why I liked her so much. She was also easier to read than Plato, but equally brilliant. 

One of the last papers I wrote in college was for my "Justice" class, taught by one of my favorite professors who always encouraged me to read Elshtain for my papers. In the paper I used some of her works such as Public Man Private Woman, which challenged the idolatry of reason and hte separation between the public and private spheres -- as well as men's isolation to the public and women's isolation to the private

Thinking about her work, and now her death, I realize that good thinkers pass away. That's a strange thought, but I wonder what was on her computer before she passed away -- what was she writing about that she didn't get to finish? 

Thinking about her death also makes me nostalgic for college days. But in reflecting on some of what I learned from Dr. Elshtain, I am encouraged to keep thinking, to keep asking the questions and writing the papers, and challenging the assumptions of society. It means I must always be a student in some capacity, and I really like that. 

it's more than just a game

Five years ago this happened:

I was in Guatemala, playing soccer on some random field surrounded by gorgeous mountains and trees and shouts of Spanish and English as a ball was passed around. I wrote in my journal, July 10, 2008 that I had one of the best days of my life playing soccer with Guatemalans. I remember when they suggested we play "gringos vs. Guatemalans"...and we did. And I'm sure we lost miserably.

I remember that day because it was in those moments, with sweat dripping down my face, and my cheeks turning crazy red, that no one had to worry about language differences. Or cultural backgrounds. Or income disparities. It was just a bunch of people playing the beautiful game of fútbol, laughing and running hard together.

I've had more of those moments since Guatemala. I had them in Costa Rica as we played a game with my friend's host family, in San Diego when we played soccer with a group from the Hispanic church we worked with, and most recently on a Sunday in Bohnett Park on the Westside of Santa Barbara.

It's funny that I titled this post "it's more than just a game", because my sports knowledge is minimal and I'm not a sports enthusiast in the least. I do NOT like being aggressive and prefer to do sports where I don't have to touch anyone (hence, cross country and swimming were the perfect athletic endeavors for me in high school). But on that field in Guatemala, and on the fields I've played since then, I have learned that this is more than a game, it's community. It's one of the most beautiful forms of community I have ever seen take place.

On the soccer field I am white, I am la gringa. I stand out and I am much too vocal (don't take the ball from me! no, I didn't mean to pass it to you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I hit you in the face! Are you okay? Ah the ball is coming to me-what-do-I-do-with-it?!? ..just snippets of my soccer ramblings). While there are many times where I do feel insecure by my white-ness, on the soccer field, that insecurity fades a little. I have been met by gracious hospitality -- by Latin Americans and Mexican-Americans and my own peers who play patiently with me, and smile and laugh with me, and (for some reason I'm still not sure of) pass the ball to me.

So, that Sunday as I was passing the soccer ball on a small field, surrounded by Latino families celebrating birthdays with piñatas and watching their kids on the playground, I was made more aware of Alyssa la gringa. The Alyssa who doesn't fit in exactly in this setting. Yet it's sort of a paradox because it is within this exact setting that I experience great joy and peace, and oddly enough, confidence.

On the soccer field I hear

mano! mano!
I got it!

pásele!
over here!

aquí!

Spanish, English, Spanish, English. In some way the two languages sort of blend together seamlessly and we know what the other is saying. The words give me peace and rest for some reason. They fill me with joy, and even though I'm playing in the midst of white people and not-white people, 6 year olds and 23 year olds, high school educated and PhD accredited, I feel like we're this family, laughing and sweating and running together. Our differences no longer seem so apparent.

I remember one semester Gordon's chapel theme was "The Kingdom of God is like..." We looked at the gospels and what Jesus taught about his kingdom and all the metaphors and stories he used to describe it. 

I think I saw a piece of the Kingdom on Sunday on that soccer field. I think passing that fútbol was a tangible illustration of shalom, flourishing, peace. And I think it's only the beginning of building relationships and love and trust with people who have been put on the margins within my city. We have a long way to go in being a part of this Kingdom work, but I believe I saw a glimpse of it on Sunday. And I'm eager to go back for more.

receiving

I've been a part of an exciting conversation about community, church, love, hospitality, giving, and receiving. These conversations have stirred some thoughts that I wanted to explore a little bit more. 

"Our humanity comes to its fullest bloom in giving. We become beautiful people when we give whatever we can give: a smile, a handshake, a kiss, an embrace, a word of love, a present, a part of our life...all of our life" -- Henri J.M. Nouwen "Life of the Beloved"

If I'm tracking with Nouwen, and our humanity comes to its fullest bloom in giving, then we also come to our fullest bloom by receiving this from others. We are a part of others' expression of humanity as we live in relationship and receive the blessing that they are. If we are only givers, then we are not engaging in others' expressing their humanity, who they are created to be.

I think we always want to be the givers -- and this is a very good thing. We are called to give, certainly - to give in ways that we are uniquely capable to do. We have talents and experiences that beckon us to serve and care for others. My point isn't to not give - my point is rather to see that if we believe giving is integral to the framework of our lives, then receiving others' gifts is equally important.

And I'm learning that receiving others' gifts is at times overwhelming and leads me to vulnerable places. Let me explain...

Perhaps the biggest example of receiving is in the arena of hospitality. And what better story to tell then Latin America - where hospitality was extended to me in every way possible. I was given a multitude of gifts, many in the form of food or housing or friendship. At times the accepting of these gifts was tiring and I wanted to lock myself in my room and just be myself reading a book or watching a movie. I was exhausted because this process of receiving was not at all passive, but active: I realized (and realize more now), how important my reception of their (my host families and other friends) gifts was and how it communicated love to them (at least I wanted to communicate love -- I know that was not always the case!). I also realized that receiving these gifts was at times uncomfortable: I ate food that I wasn't too excited about. I slept in the house of a family who had very little money and resources. A man whose country has been severely oppressed by my country washed my hands as part of a communion service in Cuba. These were the times where receiving the gifts felt uncomfortable because I knew I either didn't deserve it (hand washing, housing), or didn't want it (food I wasn't used to).

One of the hardest parts about saying goodbye in Latin America was that I couldn't find a way to give enough back. No amount of "gracias" or "a mi me gusta" was enough for what they gave to me. I received with hands that were not worthy or were uncomfortable. I received with eyes filled with tears because of anxiety and fear, I received with a complete inability to repay in any way close to the love extended to me. All those gifts flooded my heart and I didn't know what to do with it all...and at times now I see those gifts flooding me and I feel the same sort of panic ("what do I give in return?! how do I say thank you? Did I do enough to deserve this?!")

In Latin America, I wasn't a giver primarily, but a receiver. And I can't tell you the thousand lessons I learned (and continue to learn) from that. Yes, I believe that I did give in Latin America and I know my host family loved me and appreciated me and what I gave to their family. But it was so small in comparison to the gifts they gave to me.

I believe we have a false perception of giving and receiving - we see one as dominant and the other as passive, yet I am learning that both are equally important in shaping us and guiding the kind of love we want to express in relationships. I'm learning that receiving the gifts often puts me out of my comfort zone and forces me to recognize that their are parts of myself that are prideful and that I must let go. Receiving forces me to give up organization and control in order to see the beauty of living each day open to the gifts that are waiting. Receiving allows me to see another person expressing his/her humanity in the gifts he or she is uniquely able to give.

I'm learning more about what I have to give, too. The little things like a smile or post-it-note, or maybe speaking Spanish -- all are important gifts that must be given with open hands. These gifts express a part of who I am and I want people to receive them openly too, just as I receive their gifts.

Maybe life is more than just thinking about what our gifts are and how we can use them, but also about how we can be better receivers, and see the beauty in others as they express their gifts.