Changes Come

Part 1:
I began work on July 20 at a school called ARISE Academy. It's a wonderful school that works in the Bywater/Ninth Ward area. This is the first year it is open (That's right...I'm helping to start a school! How cool is that?!). Our student population is 199 black students and 1 white girl, ranging from Pre-K to 2nd grade. Every year after this year, we will add a grade until we get to 8th grade. I love the team I work on. Everyone is incredibly social justice minded, despite whatever the deeper source of that mindset is. The kids are great and we are implimenting teaching techniques that are proven to work in areas such as these to bring these children up in an atmosphere of scholarly learning. We have a very rigorous curriculum, and though that freaks me out because I do not have a teaching degree, I am co-teaching with a girl about my age who is a first year Teach for America hire (so we are both freaking out a bit right now!)

Please pray for stamina. The days are long and exhausting, but I love that my LIFE has become a ministry. This is why I moved here. I wanted this. I asked for this. And my prayers have been answered. But it means giving up a lot of things for myself (most days I don't even have time to run. Please also pray that I would continue to learn to love sacrificially and to learn more how to love the unloved.

Part 2:
I have been in New Orleans for two and a half months now.
Within that time, I've had no job...one job and then another job.
I've lived in one apartment...and then moved to another.
I've made friends...said goodbye to friends...and made more friends.
I've gained 5 pounds...and then lost 10.
I turned 25.

And in those two and a half months, I have become a new person. Those in Madison would see the difference. Those in New Orleans might. I definitely do. My experiences in New Orleans have forced me to grow, kicking and screaming, and change. I have come to understand the Gospel in a way that never even dawned on me previous to this placement change. I understand so much more brokenness and grace and hope and love. And I am grateful for these lessons, though I am homesick for comfort.

It's amazing how much you take fore granted when you are in the position to have it. Michael and I were driving me home, past all of the dilapidated and condemned homes of Central City and I almost broke into tears. Driving through that neighborhood (and really the whole city in general) I was blindsided by yet another reality:
The people who "have" never quite realize all that they do have, yet the "have nots" can not escape the fact that they don't have. They are constantly reminded by their discomfort. To alleviate that pain, they turn to things that will reduce that pain. They turn to alcohol (bars are open 24 hours a day here), drugs (one of the worst crime issues in this city, robbery (a huge issue in this city), and murder (the news doesn't even report on murders here because the rate of them is the highest in the nation).
Our comfort blinds us. It numbs us. It separates us from the world.

Life down here has made me realize how much I never appreciate what I have. The kids I work with make me realize that I have an education that I didn't work hard enough for. They make me realize that I have a family that loves me and would do anything for me. They make me realize that, during the times that it was important, my life was stable (which, coincidentally is what now gives me the ability to not have stability). For whatever reason, I was given things easy--and I still am. But the blinders are being taken off.
I see the some of the depth of the pain in this city and my heart aches for redemption and for restoration. I was biking to work this morning as the sun was coming up. It was beautiful and peaceful and calm still. The day had not yet started for most and there was a cool breeze. I breathed a sigh of relief. I prayed as I biked for patience to deal with my students and work well on my team and to bring salt and light to the people around me. And then I saw the same homeless man that I see every morning sleeping on a different stoop and cried out for it all to be over. When will that day come when the world will be restored? When will the hurt of people stop? My hands feel so small here.

The dichotomy of it all is that I still ache for my own comforts. I feel so removed. Life goes on in the rest of the world without me. Friends get married. Friends have babies. Nieces have birthdays and so do Dads. The warm nights of summer in Wisconsin pass with the cool breezes and live music and fireflies. All of the things that I miss so much keep spinning on without me.
I feel torn between two selves.

"The biggest lies are the little ones.
Angel or demon? You know that they could share the same bed.
I've laid awake so long, I've got them both inside my head." ~OTR


And yet...
I feel cooler breezes in the afternoons. They say that it starts to cool down in September. Hope and redemption are around the corner. I can feel it coming.