Having moments of nostalgia-- where all my homey feelings and moments of sweetest pleasure burst to the surface. I feel like ghosts of close family and friends are all around me. Seeing what I see, feeling what I feel. It's the journey we take on together in the most willing pursuits. And our family only grows bigger with new strangers every day.
About a month ago I got to attend a sort of seminar called School for Conversion.. eh, but not really a school of sorts. My friends here laughed at me going to such a thing to learn how to create a "community." They think one day I will have a host of communes filled with sick old people and hippies. And I say, I'm okay with that. :) Anyways, the weekend SFC blew me out of the waters. I was fueled by the passion, by the willingness to not just rage out against a broken system, but to be the forerunners of hope in a broken system. I was inspired and encouraged in the deepest ways. The vision at the School for Conversion is to work toward beloved communities where people unlearn social divisions through experimentation in a way of life with God that makes surprising friendships possible. I remember not being so much a fan of the title of the weekend, "School for Conversion." I had asked the director why he called it that-- mostly because I strongly refuted that word-- "conversion." But Jonathan, in his remarkable humility and understanding in the evangelical realm, stated, "It's not this one-time conversion as most hold onto that the title references. Though, in many eyes, that one time event is very meaningful. But rather this sort of conversion refers to a sort of continuous conversion. Continuing to turn towards God, to turn and remember, to fall in love over and over and over again. Forever turning. Forever converting." We are cyclic beings, seasonally changing. Seasonally turning. And that's what I experience with the trees, with this color, with this expansive realm of what God only knows. I convert without even realizing it at times. And sometimes I want to say damnit because I want to still be a rebellious little girl. But what happens when your heart has been sold, long gone into the family of things?
As my absolute favorite favorite Mary Oliver writes,
"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
Well, what will it be? You know what it is nudging at your soul. GO. FOR. IT. And don't look back.
