Identity

This is my last semester of seminary. During my second semester I posted the following blog: click here This May I graduate with an MDiv. As a part of my requirements for graduation I have been doing an internship at a retirement home for the past seven months. That is all in the way of background and context.

This morning I sat with one of the residents. This woman, whom we will call Olive, is so very frail. She is always bundled in blankets and never without her beanie pulled nearly all the way down over eyes. She is half deaf and three quarters blind. She struggles with memory. What she doesn't struggle with his her faith. She asked me what I did. I told her I was in school to be a pastor.

"Catholic?" Olive asks filled with anticipation.
"No, Protestant," I reply.
"You study the Catholic faith. You will find it is the best." Olive's whole face, her whole body breaks out in a smile.

Olive sits in her wheelchair, I sit on a bench facing her. She takes my hand and pulls me in closer. "For every question you have, the Catholic faith has an answer. And if they don't, you don't need one." Olive is completely present in this moment.

She may not remember my name or what she can see of my face. She may not remember that in the short time we have spent together she has asked about lunch every ten minutes. She may not remember these things, but she knows her God.

I am pulled into a place of wonder. I wonder how a faith becomes so strong. I wonder if mine will ever be this strong. I wonder how I am considered worthy to be called into this sacred space.

Olive reaches down as she holds my hand. She feels the group of strings tied around my wrist. Unable to clearly see what they are, she asks, “Identity?”

Olive is referencing the ID bracelets that each resident wears. In reality they are part of a Thai ceremony. (Same teacher, different class.) Olive is more right than she knows. I simply answer, “Yes.”

Our conversation moves to the difficulties of age and problems with young people today. Then it is time to go in for lunch.

I am left with what it means that these strings are symbols of my identity.

I still struggle with my worth. I know that I am a beloved child of God, but I don’t always remember that.

Like Olive, I also have moments where the only thing on my mind is the question of when lunch is. Like Olive, I have moments of clarity. Moments where I know fully who I am and whose I am.
 
--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Imperfect.

It began on Valentine’s Day. I was playing board games with two of the best people I know. I thought, “I have always wanted to take a photo a day for a year, who says it has to start on Jan 1.” So, I snapped a picture, and made a commitment to take one a day for the next year.

I have not taken a picture a day since that day. However, what I have done is taken a picture a day-imperfectly. Normally, when I start something that doesn’t work like I wanted it to, I just stop. There might be excuses and rationalizations, there may be second chances and renewed attempts, but the old “failed” attempt is put away.

This time I tried something new. I missed a day and kept going. I have missed several days. But the project continues. I don’t know what the final count of pictures will be, but no longer is the goal 365 pictures. The goal is to look around my world, to look into my life and find the things that give me courage. To find and record those things which keep me from wanting to pack it up and go home.

My life is imperfect. My photo album is imperfect. But both are filled with extraordinary things.  

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

2-14-15

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