On most days of the week my housemate Genesis and I commute to and from work together. Our jobs are on opposite ends of the same street, mine at Joseph's House and hers at the Northwest Pregnancy Center, an amazing non-profit that offers support and resources to mothers and families who choose to keep instead of terminate pregnancies. We joke that she works at the beginning of the street with the beginning of life while I work at the end of the street with the end of life. Even though it seems like our placements are extremely different, we have found that they are actually similar. We both deal with smelly diapers and those unsteady on their feet. We both encounter tears and the joy of innocence. Her stories only further my realization that life and death are intricately intertwined. Joy and sorrow are only made complete by the presence of the other.
On Friday, Genesis and I caught the bus headed home like every other day. We were balancing groceries while navigating the usual hectic, crowded D.C. streets. And then it started raining. Not a light sprinkle but a torrential downpour that sent everyone running for cover. As we got off our bus to run the last few blocks home, we realized that our umbrella was not going to shield us from the massive puddles at our feet or the sideways rain slapping our faces. I found myself at that moment when you decide whether you are going to look at the positives or the negatives of the situation. I decided to handle the rain by saying, "Ah, screw it," and run charging through the puddles. But Genesis took a very different approach. I turned around to find her stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, soaking wet and laughing hysterically at how ridiculous the storm was and how even more ridiculous we looked.
My life in D.C. has been a lot like that rain storm. There have been many unexpected showers that have left me feeling heavy and ready to run for cover. Three residents passing away in my first four weeks of work at Joseph's House. The frustration of not being in the same time zone or country with many of the most important people in my life. Growing anger at the brokenness of our social and political systems. Stress and anxiety over grad school decisions and applications. The shock of realizing that by the time my service year is done my favorite Joseph's House resident will probably have passed away. Sadness over the sudden end of a promising relationship. Longing for a Polynesian community here on the side of the country so far away from the Pacific Ocean. Loneliness in the midst of so many people. Homesickness. Unanswerable questions.
And yet just when I feel as if the storm will consume me, I am always offered a gift of love. Wisdom and compassionate support from my supervisors and co-workers. A normally nonchalant resident taking my hand and thanking me for everything I do for him. Calls every week from my best friend so that he can make sure I am doing okay even though he is working crazy hours for a major corporation. Homemade cards from the Krista Foundation reminding me that I am held in prayer and sustained by grace. Strangers on the street stopping to tell me that I am beautiful after the end of a work day that left me sweaty and tired. "Accidentally" finding a church community that meets me just where I am. Calls from my little sister.
And even more, I get to experience the joy of intentional community living. Being excited to come home to my house mates every day. Spending hours at the dining room table with them talking about how to restructure federal funding and which Robin Williams character is the best. Exploring the city with each other. Dancing in our kitchen to 90s hits. Pillow talks with my roommate Marlena that leave me falling asleep with a smile. Never making it through a church service as a group without laughing. My housemate Chris always being there when I need to cry. The dozens of methods we have tried to get rid of mice. Eating a whole batch of brownies in order to be brave enough to make it through a scary movie. The plans to move to Hawaii together in August instead of going in seven different ways. The prayers lit by our community candle and sealed by our held hands.
The storms are not fun and I don't particularly enjoy having to walk through them alone. But I will take the rain any day as long as I get the laughter and community that comes with it.
This was a really beautiful post. It reminds me of a poster I have hanging up in my room that says "Hard Times: In hard times the rules change. The downpour prompts us to share our umbrella with a stranger." It's simple, but it speaks to what you wrote about the blessings of community amidst the storms.
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