Transitions are the hardest,

especially when it involves leaving such dear people, people you may never see again, and a living situation that was so awesome. This is not about the job or working conditions. This is about life in the barn and worker kitchen, where 8-10 people learned to live together while working on a farm. We cooked & cleaned for each other, drank together, played music, looked at wedding dresses, talked smack about our bosses, learned from each other... we formed our own little living, breathing community.


And now it's gone, never to be had again. And OH we are blessed for having lived it. Gratitude doesn't begin to sum it up. Praise God.

common denominator

I ride the bus.

When I tell people about my transportation habits, they're usually surprised. Especially by the bus. They seem wary & skeptical, sometimes even critical or disdainful. Yes, I ride the bus- it's cheap and puts me in touch with the people I'm geographically close to. Yes, some of those people happen to be prostitutes, single mothers, drunks, and thugs. Yes, these are messy people. No, it's not that bad. In fact, I enjoy it, and I'll tell you why.

I've always been a bigger fan of the radio than of tapes or CDs. When I listen to the radio, I feel like I'm connected to people; I'm reminded of the fact that I'm not alone. Listening to your own music is similar to driving your own car. I lose sight of the ultimate connectedness of everyone when I'm inside my own car. It's easier to live inside an illusion of control when I'm the mistress of my vehicle, shut away inside my car. "Safe." It's easier to paint my own picture when I'm on my own. When I'm on the bus, I get to hear about someone's new baby, or I may have to endure some personal drama. Maybe I'll sit next to someone who smells funny or talks non-stop. Some of the situations and people I encounter are indeed unpleasant, but they're just as valid and probably more edifying than the extreme comfort of my own car. Situations like this check my focus; I find I often need to look at what I'm relying on and recalibrate.

I have also encountered unexpected pleasantries during my patronage of the KAT bus system. On the way home one day, we had to switch buses. So I prepared to unload my bike and reload it again onto a different bus. This can be a pain depending on how high the bus is and how tired I am. I started into it, and a man insisted that he would help me. I don't know him, but I've seen this man at his worst, when he was lying down on the sidewalk, drunk as a skunk, and the cops were converging on him to cart him off. (I don't mean just a couple of cops- this was a whole swarm of officials that grew by the second.) Not that he remembers me or that situation. But he was very insistent, in his sobriety, that he would help me unload my bike. And he did. He loaded & unloaded my bike when we changed buses. He even got out and unloaded my bike when I got off at my stop. Colorful and unexpected. Yes, indeed. (During my first encounter with him, he didn't get arrested: the bus driver just stopped when she saw him and started yelling at him. Even as the police were walking towards him and 2 fire trucks were joining the scene along with more police cars, the bus driver kept yelling at him until he got up, staggered into the bus, and she whisked us away. Talk about a close call! And she told him about it, too, all the way home. "I saved yo' ass!" and so on. Who wants to miss that??!)

This morning it was too cold to ride my bike (again!), even for me. I'm stubborn about riding my bike as much as possible, but when my face feels like it will fall off during my scant two-block walk to the bus, I know it's not a day for riding because I don't have a face mask or a cool wind-proof jacket like Jon. And today was rewarding! I perched in my seat, getting ready to read some Oswald Chambers, surveying the scene. A disabled woman with a wheeled walker had just gotten on the bus and was seated next to a young, punk-looking kid in the section of the bus that's easier for the elderly and slightly disabled to get at. The woman was settling herself in, holding onto her walker so it didn't roll away, and she dropped one of her gloves. I didn't even notice until the punk kid silently picked it up and gave it back to her.

I turned back to my reading until two thuggy young men got on the bus and sat near me, continuing their conversation about Puffy and Dre. Really. Puffy. Dre. And this is 2009 and Obama was just inaugurated. The one guy just had to keep talking to anyone, I just kept on reading and pondering until my stop came, and I grabbed my things and hopped up to leave the bus. I was almost out the door when the thuggy dude followed me hollering something. I turned around to see him handing me my purse which I had left in my seat. That was a priceless look he gave me, too. It said, "You could have been cooked, lady. You didn't expect me to do this, did you?" There was a little moment where the whole cloud of witnesses drew in our breath, took in the event all at once. And we were glad, and I didn't quite know what to say, but I was relieved! Turns out that was his stop, too, and he told me about it, grinnin like a possum, until I was out of earshot: "I'm a nice guy! See? I'm a nice dude." He just had to keep talking.

Yes indeed: I ride the bus.

Happy-go-lucky local

I did it - I went local! That is to say, I gave up my car for dead, and the wake so far has been an absolute blast of a party!

I got an oil change 2 weeks ago before leaving Asheville. Normally I would have waited til I got back to Knoxville, but the Volvo started to leak green juices. The bad news was that the radiator was busted. The other bad news was that since it had already been repaired once, I would need a new radiator (read: costs lots of money). And the cherry on top bad news is that since it takes a mechanic 30 minutes to pry open the hood of my Volvo, I wouldn't be able to top off the antifreeze whenever I needed to.

So I took my car's state of the union address along with my new pledge of not using my credit card unless I absolutely must, and I made friends with them on the drive back to Knoxville. The thing is, I've been wanting to localize my life, but I didn't know exactly how to do it since I didn't have a great reason. So I thought about it, prayed about it, and waited. Honestly, I'm probably too lazy and comfortable just to ditch my car of my own accord, but these circumstances proved to be just what I needed to finally give up the ghost.

Well....

I really like it! Since my work is mostly confined to downtown, campus, and south Knoxville, it's pretty easy for me to get around. For out of town gigs like this weekend in Asheville, I can rideshare or take Greyhound, and my roommate can pick me up!

I haven't been using my air conditioner for a while now, so I'm already used to the heat that I encounter when I bicycle on the swelteringly humid days we've been having. So there's extra exercise in it for me! Soooo nice. Showers are now a whole new level of refreshment.

I also discovered KAT's Shop & Ride program - when you buy groceries from Three Rivers Market, Kroger, or Food City (and maybe even more places), you can get a free one-way bus pass - all you have to do is ask the cashier who rings you up. So I've been collecting them. Some friends of mine are even sponsoring me by giving me their bus passes (you can, too!), and so far I haven't had to pay for a bus ride yet!

"How can you stand to take the bus?" you ask. Well, I dig the bus. I get time all to myself & a good book- or a work strategy, or talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while- and I don't have to deal with traffic or drive. And there are interesting characters on the bus. Very interesting indeed.

So really, I feel completely blessed. I am pleased with this new arrangement. Sure it has its drawbacks. Knoxville's not the best city to bike in, but I doubt it's the worst either. Mine is a mountain bike, so the tires probably slow me down a little. The helmet gets really hot. Last week when I cycled past the sketchy gas station on the corner, someone threw a rock at me (it didn't meet its target). I can't just hop into my car and go wherever I want whenever I want. Everyday life takes a little more planning than it used to.

But overall, I'm really happy about it. It makes me feel a little more connected to my community. I ride by the same places a lot, and I'm beginning to notice changes as well as consistencies. I feel a bit more like I'm a part of the fabric that makes up this scruffy little city called Knoxville, and I realize that I'm also one of the interesting characters that people muse at.

Living in community I: Realization

A lot of people who follow Jesus like to talk about community and living in community. It seems pretty important to us, and Jesus certainly surrounded himself with people: his disciples, other friends, the masses. Sure He was alone at times - everyone needs to be alone, I think - but He invested himself in other people. He risked living in community with other people; He was honest and transparent, and ultimately that cost Him his life.

I am a part of a great community called Crossings. We meet on Sunday mornings all together, and then during the week there are smaller groups of people who get together for Bible study and sharing and maybe munching or drinking. It's a pretty amazing and dedicated bunch of people as far as most churches are concerned, and as far as church goes, I'm satisfied with it, although I want to contribute more artistically. But it's not yet what I think Jesus would have the church look like. Not completely. There's more, and I want it!

I want to dig deep in this life- plumb the depths of my own depravity and rejoice in the wideness of God's love. I want to really live in community. What I mean is, I want to live in close quarters with other people. My neighbors are great, and I love my house, but I really don't think all these separate, discrete houses side by side are what Jesus had in mind. It's such a picture of the society that sees the individual as the basic unit. Of course, that's how I see it, too, but I think I'm wrong. I don't think that's the way it should be. I don't think it's been restored or perfected (perfect as in made whole or complete). I doubt I'll ever be fulfilled living like this.

I very recently realized that I don't like my living arrangements. I live alone in an awesome house. It's a really great house- an 80-year old Craftsman with hardwood floors, new appliances, and the best porch ever- but I live alone, and I just really feel like I'm not meant to live alone. I ache to have other people around me; I ache to be known. Sure, I'd like to be in a relationship one day where we are married and share life at a very intimate level, but that's not all I'm getting at here. The Africans say that it takes a whole village to raise a child; I agree wholeheartedly. In that proverb, the emphasis is on the child- it's easy to see how children need a lot of care, especially if you've cared for them. But I would say that the village needs the children, too, that the village needs the parents of that child to depend on them for a night off once in a while so the village can continue to practice the refining art of giving. I would argue that the villagers need the chaos of children to remind them that they're only one tiny part of this world, and that no plan is ever 100% certain. I'd say the village needs the laughter of children.... bubbles, too. You can never have enough bubbles.

For now, I'm looking for a roommate. I have an incredibly cute little sunroom with lots of windows and light and even a closet. It faces west. Cleaning it out and getting rid of stuff has moved up higher on my priority list.

For the future, I'm not sure how long I'll be in my house. Perhaps I'll rent it. Perhaps I'll donate it. Maybe I'll even sell it. But I do know that I do not want to live a mainstream American life. That may translate into life in an intentional community (no, no - not a commune, folks). It may mean moving to another country where their norm is the polar opposite of ours. I really don't know. All I know is that movement is necessary, and change is certain. And I want the abundant, full, sometimes chaotic, frustrating, and deeply rewarding life of a physically and spiritually close-knit community.