I know, you never intended to be in this world.

But you’re in it all the same.

So why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it.

Mary Oliver

Dear Springhouse community,

I hope this finds you well. We are getting ready to head on our last trip of the year to Washington D.C. where we will be visiting some new places and meeting new people as we explore the National Museum of the American Latino, visit our Congressman to learn more about his work, and head back to the Botanical Gardens to see what is in bloom. These trips not only allow us to see new places and people, they give us a chance to connect more deeply to each other and gain a deeper sense of ourselves in a new place with a trusted community. As a staff, we do a lot to prepare for these trips, and for our work in general, and what we do includes a lot more than just the logistics. 

Every year, each Springhouse staff person sets an intention for the year. We check in on that intention throughout the year and offer support and encouragement to one another as we learn and grow. My intention this year was to say what I mean and to take a giant leap toward injustice. When I set this intention, I did not have any specific action in mind. At the end of year, as I take time to reflect, I see how that intention has unfolded in ways I could not have expected.

As many of you know, we are expanding our school to be more intergenerational. We are inviting all ages to participate through our programs. We are also expanding to intentionally include cultural diversity by opening an English-Spanish immersion elementary school program. Our goal is to become a dual language school by 2029. I have always envisioned us growing into an intergenerational community who practices learning how to take care of Life in ourselves, each other, and the Earth. When I was 27, I wrote a paper in my Masters in Social Work program that was essentially a dream of an intergenerational community center where we practiced learning how to belong to this life – to ourselves, each other, and this Earth.

My physical needs as a teenager were more than met. My emotional and spiritual needs were another story. I felt alone a lot. I did not understand that I belonged to this world. I coped with this loneliness and separation by trying to get people to like me and to align the world around me with what I thought it should be. This helped me to feel safe. I learned other strategies for coping, but seeking approval was always one of my top strategies. As you can imagine, or maybe even know, this was and sometimes still is exhausting. 

How I am called to serve in this world is deeply tied to my gifts and to my wounds. It makes sense that I would be a part of something that fosters belonging. I network well, think complexly, and know on a deeper level what it feels like to not belong. Over the years, I have learned to accept more of myself, especially the pain and loneliness I feared so deeply as a young person. Because of this, I feel a deeper sense of belonging to myself and to the world. This sense of belonging continues to deepen and expand, especially with the intention I set this year.

As a young person, I mostly spent time with people who looked, sounded, and lived like me. I have never known what it means to live without my basic needs being met. As I have lived into my intention, I have found that taking a giant leap toward injustice includes saying what I mean, but even more so it means facing the ways in which I have not moved toward, or even seen, injustice. What I see ever more clearly is a world where some of us have all that we need and way more, and many have very little to no money and live in uninhabitable places. How do I belong to a world where this is the case? Even more importantly, how do I contribute to this? Facing injustice in our community and world means getting honest – not only with others, but also (and mostly) with myself, especially if I am to serve in a healthy, long-term way. 

According to the United Nations, nearly 114 million people are leaving their respective places because of persecution, conflict, violence, or human rights violations. They say this is the highest level of displacement on record. In our one-stoplight county here in Virginia, over 90 people are seeking asylum. The services for Spanish speakers in this region are lacking – beloved community, even more so. I was at a Spanish-English conversation group this past weekend where, when asked what we are grateful for, one of the women from Mexico said that she was grateful to be breaking bread with others at a table. She said it was the first time she has done this since she left her country 6 months ago. 

Though I did not have an exact picture of what my intention was, this is not what I pictured as a giant leap toward injustice. Perhaps I saw the giant leap as attending protests or writing letters to my representatives? I did not put it together that building relationships right here in our community was a giant leap toward injustice, or that publishing a scalable educational curriculum for cultural renewal was moving toward injustice. The ways my intention has unfolded are much quieter and slower than I thought, like roots moving through the deep, dark ground. I think these deep roots are needed for a more long-standing justice to happen.

In her poem, Mary Oliver invites us to get started with belonging. This tells us there is action in belonging. There is agency in it. Belonging is freely available to us all, but it takes intentionality to know it. We can choose to experience belonging by getting to know ourselves more deeply and by participating more widely with our community and respective place. My intention this year has taught me to step further out of my comfort zone and connect with parts of my community that I had yet to know. This has meant learning a new language, listening to stories of suffering, eating different foods, learning new cultural ways, and facing parts of myself and my material privilege that make me uncomfortable. Just as I come alive by getting to know more of me, I also come alive by getting to know more of my community. The more different that those community members are from me, the more vulnerable it is. This is where long-term practice in a loving community is helpful.

Thank you for participating in this community. I am excited for what is ahead for Springhouse. May we all continue to choose to practice belonging to this magnificent Life – to ourselves, to each other, and to this Earth and beyond. I will leave us with this prayer from Susa Silvermarie that I found recently. May it nourish you and give you strength:

Por el silencio de la tierra,

por el soplo de la mañana,

por el rizo de la ola a la orilla,

or la esperanza de

la luna creciente,

en el vasto cosmos

en expansión,

en nuestro pequeño cachito

del planeta

que seamos gigantes

en nuestros corazones.

In solidarity and with love,

Jenny

One Comment

  • Dave Werner says:

    You or a staff member may be interested in joining the leadership team of Floyd CARE as we seek to further racial equity in Floyd County.

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