Taize, Taize...

My good friend and brother Wojtek, from Poland, and I.

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We had barely enough to eat and I was often found scrounging for left overs... (not really...just a little bit...)

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I was the only Native English speaker in my bible study the first week and the only non-German. I became very close to two of these girls, Marei and Lena.


These friends and I took a bus trip to the near-by town of Cluny.



I loved Taize. I loved Taize. Taize, a place of love, friendship, solitude and God.

On my journey to Taize, that is on the plane, bus and train, I had no idea what Taize was like. I’d attended the Taize prayers in Atlanta and had truthfully found them rather boring. I only knew I was headed to a place that my two sisters had paved the way for me first and my Dad had loved dearly. I was headed there as a gift to my dad, to explore what he loved. But Taize turned out to be a gift to me from my dad.

The first week at Taize consisted of 3000 Germans, and about 500 other people from many different countries.

The first week I made many very good friends, mostly Germans, but this is one particular very close friend who stayed with me through my whole Taize experience.
Wojtek. I picked up “rubbish” as they call trash in Taize with a guy from Poland, Wojtek (pronounced Voychek). We talked about our dreams as people often do in Taize and found coins people had left for the rubbish collectors to find. He was very kind, 27 years old and had worked with difficult teenagers in a high school as a teacher. He was planning to stay at Taize for a very long time. We laughed as we began to understand one another. He made fun of my height often (shortness). We worked together everyday at Cadole doing random jobs such as cleaning big blue tents, counting construction supplies, fixing street lamps. One night as I sat in the church with my new good friend from Germany I decided that I had to get up and move. The Taize songs and prayer for me was too still. I needed to move, to dance, run, anything to let out my energy. So my friend came with me, we stepped outside and ran down the sidewalk and then down the street. I saw my friend Wojtek and past by him yelling, “Wojtek” and continued down the street. We turned around and headed back toward the church, the cold night air streaming through our hair and whipping our cheeks and ears. I ran straight at Wojtek, playing as though I would hit him and then did impulsively run into him giving him an enormous hug and then continued on my way. The next day after work as the Cadole team sat around eating cookies and drinking tea, Wojtek told me that the night before he was taking a walk through Taize and talking to God. He said that he was saying to God that yes, he was enjoying Taize but he missed his family very much and he just needed a hug. And that’s when I ran into him. He told me that he felt like I was his little sister. That’s how I found my Polish brother.

I took a week in silence.

The silence was the complete opposite of what I lived the first week at Taize. I stayed with all girls in a silence house in another town, Ameuny, down the road from Taize. This is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to a boy I’d become very close to  from Germany. I wrote this letter the second day of silence. “The meals feel as though we’re in a convent and everyone is angry, lonely and under some terribly mean sister‘s leadership. But last night I cracked a walnut under my foot at supper. It sounded like a gunshot in the silence house. A girl began to giggle. Then another girl cracked a walnut and another gunshot went off. Our bellies jerked with silent laughter. This was fun. Today at lunch we listened to Latin American music with the traditional flutes and I could not help but move my body. It didn’t seem right for us to stand so still waiting for our meal. So I began to shake, to shake with joy of beginning to understand and to reach for this special unique relationship with God in each one of us…Yesterday I prayed in the little church in Taize by myself. I cried and yelled for I do not know how to pray and I became angry with God and with these “rules” on how to pray. I let go and broke down. And I cried for my father also. After this I learned a little more about relating to God, just be myself and show up.”

My third and last week at Taize I couldn’t stand becoming so close to people and at the end of the week saying goodbye to them (most people only stay for one week) for what was probably forever. So I stayed close to Wojtek and picked up rubbish with him and gave him hugs often. We took long walks and compared our countries with much interest. I had a bible study group, accidentally, with all adults, 36 years and older. I enjoyed this having had a young group the first week I liked to have this new perspective. I felt taken care of. Each of the adults shared very personal parts of their lives and being so old, they had very trying and diverse experiences. And in turn I shared my experiences of this last year, with my brother and my dad’s death. I felt that I was a vital part of the group and was so happy to accidentally join this group of adults. I met a girl named Julia this week from Germany and we bonded taking runs down the French countryside and Laughing about silly things like little children.

My time at Taize was very transformative for my relationship with God and through this relationship it was transformative in the way I relate to people. And vise-versa. I’ve shared with you only a piece of the whole of course. And I thank my Dad and God for the gift of Taize in my life. I want to go back so soon!

Home and Off Again

"Our University is the oldest Catholic and Jesuit University in the United States." "Our College Has the number one gymnastic team in the country." "Football games are a blast." "Don't walk on the seal, under the archway, through the gazebo or YOU WON'T GRADUATE!. " That's what I heard for five days straight. I visited seven colleges down the East Coast on a tight schedule and in a grumpy old messed up muffler car. But I got through and found what I want.

I'm at home now in the sanctuary of my resting place for this year's in-between times. My friend threw a birthday party for me with the few friends that are still around and haven't gone to college yet or otherwise. My birthdays always seem to comprise of a very strange assortment of people. Each is so different from the next. I'm sure if someone saw us all together they would have thought of the front page of a college handbook where the college is trying to stress diversity.

Heck, not much has been going on besides the stressful life of living at home with less freedom, independence and chance. I'm ready to head out into the world again.

I am leaving for Taize, France tonight on stand-by. I will stay in Taize for two weeks. I am ready for this new experience, one of searching, exploring and resting. I am excited to meet young people coming from around the world. Goodbye all and I will write when I get back.

The Baby Abode

After my father's death August 8, 2009, so sudden was everyone in our family's encounter and so sudden was our departure.

I left on an early Friday morning. The last to leave my mom. The last child. But still my oldest two siblings were at home. After the two long weeks after my father died, I left feeling totally confused and jumbled. My past feelings of excitement to be leaving home left with my father's death. But I was ready to leave the house anyway. I knew I must keep going.

Time has flown by here.

Now I see that when I left home I was leaving a world and was plopped right into a new world that is different and simpler. I'm taking care of Hunter, Rachel's baby which in its own way is very simple, sometimes creative and often fun. I become like a child forgetting my young adult worries. And yet they are still there wanting and wishing to be expressed, to be untangled and dissected, yearning for attention and love. But I've abandoned these feelings for the moment to be with a child, to play and wrestle and to sing to a child.

I went to a cafe like my brother suggested and, yes, I did meet people. I read Grapes of Wrath and was hit on by the two workers, they were both bearded Jews, very friendly and very radical. They invited me to Israeli dancing at their house on Friday night saying, “You have Jewish blood in you, don’t you?” One of them would not stop offering me a free Herba mate. I refused politely multiple times but when I was leaving he rushed over and made one for me and I finally took it thinking, 'what the heck, got a free drink.' I didn't even know what it was. I haven't gone back to that cafe. The next time I went to a cafe an old man sitting behind me said "Hello?!" And I turned around. He said he was interested that I was reading a book. I told him what it was and he told me what he was reading, it was something by Keen. He told me about how there are different stages in life and how he likes to watch people like students, business men, mothers and so forth in their stages. He thought I was a student and I told him I was not. He told me that our education system is all screwed up. He said it was all too impersonal (he was banging his book on the table at this point) and he told me to listen..."Listen to wise people - that is the best education."

I've taken three yoga classes. Last night we had to lie on our backs. The teacher explained what we should do, she said, "Flop around like a fish." So I laid there waiting for more instruction but then she said, "Go!" And people began to flop like a fish. I caught on after banging my shoulders on the ground and then my butt and then my feet and then my right shoulder...and so on. Then she said, "You can pretend like you're having a temper tantrum, this is your chance, give it everything." Ooh it felt so good. I wiggled and banged and twisted up my face so good and then we rested.

Rachel, Chris, Hunter and I laugh. We laugh at farts. We have farting competitions at the dinner table. (some of you might find this disgusting please excuse our immature ways.) Last night Hunter just began laughing at farts. He's only one and 2 weeks but he knows the poo humor already. Last night as I was putting Hunter to sleep I rocked him and he cried, and screamed and then blrrruuup!, farted and he quit screaming and shook with giggles. I stopped singing and we laughed hard.