"Melting away" (Kristen F. Konkol)

Before your ears even hear it, your nose is attune to what has taken hold. The wind picks up and the sky darkens as the massive and swollen storm clouds invade the clear blue skies. With the first heavy drops the earth is moistened and the fragrant smell of grass, soil and wet foliage lifts the eyes to the sky. Soon thereafter the downpour of bulging raindrops soaks everything in a matter of seconds while the bolts of lightning widen the eyes and the boisterous thunder claps and rumbles.

As we are in the midst of the hot and humid summer months, the scorching days bring with it the nemesis of equally impressive thunderstorms. A few nights ago as the “smell” of rain came wafting through the veranda door, another sound accompanied it…that of a faint “ping”. My hunch came true and sizeable hail bounced off the ground. As I walked out to investigate a smile came over my face (thankful the car was in the garage!) as I bent down and picked up a 1 in. diameter- sized piece of hail. But my smile was short-lived and quickly turned to concern. I have always loved to listen to and observe a big storm. Something about them has always captivated me. But lately I have begun to look at how this wonderful and positive thing for the earth, the farmers and those of us who are fascinated by storms can also be a life-altering negative event for others.

Although some of us are blessed with the opportunity to take in a storm in the comfort and safety of our homes, others across the country and around the world are not as fortunate. In many areas throughout SA people are forced to make their homes in a variety of makeshift ways. One may scavenge around for pieces of scrap metal, old signs, wood or any variety of plastic sheeting to build and “waterproof” the roof over their head to provide shelter. Many of these roofs of metal sheeting are covered with large rocks, old tires and other weighted objects to put pressure and secure it in place.

In addition to this style of home, others make a frame and double-rowed lattice of sticks approx. 6-8 inches in width for the walls which are then filled with a soil/hay/manure/rock mixture. This earthy base is then topped in the same fashion as the aforementioned roofs if a squared off home or a cone-shaped thatched/metal roof if build in a circular shape.

…my smile becomes concern. Just as the strong walls and terra-cotta tiled roofing of our home kept us sheltered to enjoy the storm, others lives literally melted and blew away. The heavy rains rushed down the hills and valleys melting away and collapsing the walls of many homes while the high winds and pressure of the rainstorm blew and scattered the roofs and walls of other homes to shambles. One “fascinating” and “captivating” storm for me spelled a dismantling of the livelihood for others. I am, as often happens, humbled while my circle of understanding expands for those Brian and I walk alongside here in our wide variety of experiences in SA.

We were also in the midst of this “blessing for one, challenge for another” tension while hiking up Thaba Bisou in a rural part of Lesotho in December. During the ascent we were joined by a local teen, Ditdu, who wanted to walk with us and give us some facts about the area of King Mshoeshoe. As we continued talking I began asking about his family, school, etc. All too familiarly, unfortunately, he proceeded to tell me how his parents had succumb to HIV/AIDS and he was raising his younger sister alone. Although the holiday season was upon us, he was not looking forward to it. He would keep his sister at home as she didn’t have a new outfit to wear to the festivities and they could not afford to bring any food to offer the homes they would visit. He said that the holiday was not a joyous time for them. Once again I begin to look at things differently. Just as my allure too a thunderstorm was given a new perspective, my view of the joy/challenge tension of the holiday season was altered in walking alongside Didtu that bright sunny morning in December.

These tensions we live in each and everyday are a constant reminder that we must be open to change and willing to learn and observe in the context of our global companions. As we walk side by side with the many warm and welcoming people of South Africa and beyond, perhaps the best gift which can be given is that of broadening one’s perspective and world view. For we are simply the mouse taking small steps around the elephant giving us additional pieces to the bigger picture!

With peace and love,

Kristen

Standing on Shoulders (Brian E. Konkol)

Throughout my life I have heard frequent stories of my adventurous uncle, Maynard Konkol. Maynard, who was one of my father’s older brothers, was born in May of 1951 and was known for “breaking the mold” of typical Konkol family expectations. Instead of settling down to raise a family in central Wisconsin, Maynard was inspired to pursue an alternative path, travel the world, and contribute to social development projects alongside various rural communities around the world.

Following Maynard’s graduation from the University of Wisconsin in Platteville, he applied to serve with the United States Peace Corps, and was eventually assigned to the city of Maseru, located in the Kingdom of Lesotho about four hours southeast of Johannesburg, South Africa. From 1977-1979, Maynard applied his bachelors and masters degrees in soil and crop science at the Lesotho Argicultural College (LAC), which is located on the outer edge of the city. In addition to Maynard’s high priority of building relationships and cultural immersion, his service at the LAC helped create numerous sustainable development projects, and his work has since been shared in the text, “Imperial gullies: soil erosion and conservation in Lesotho”, written by Kate Barger Showers, who is a senior research associate at the Centre for World Environmental History at the University of Sussex in England.

When Maynard departed Lesotho and returned to the United States in 1979, he decided to spend a few months assisting my father as they built a new home, after which Maynard would plan to accept a new job in soils research at Iowa State University. My older brother was nearly two years of age at time, while I was only ten months old. Instead of hiring a construction company to work through the various construction phases, my father, uncle Maynard, and other friends and family worked cooperatively and tirelessly on nights and weekends to lay a foundation and assemble the home which my parents continue to reside in today, over thirty years later. Following each day of work, Maynard – who was known to be “green” and environmentally conscious long before it was trendy to do so – rode his bicycle to my Grandmother’s home each day to eat and sleep.

On September 17, 1979, following another day of hard work on my parent’s future home, what appeared to be a typical day of construction progress turned into an event that members of my extended family would never forget. Maynard’s daily commute to my grandmother’s residence was cut short when he was struck by an oncoming vehicle less than a mile from his point of departure. He died that day at the tender age of twenty-eight. While I was clearly far too young to understand the seriousness of the heartbreak, my family and their friends were crushed by the news. Maynard had traveled into distant lands around the world that many in central Wisconsin had never heard of, yet his life came to an abrupt close only minutes away from his childhood home. My father, whose bond with Maynard was especially strong, was wounded in ways like never before. Only moments after seeing Maynard peddle down the road, an accident would change everything. Not only had my father lost a brother, but also a life-long best friend.

At numerous occasions during my childhood I viewed various photos of my uncle Maynard during our family “slide shows” in the living room of our home. I can still remember the clicking sound of the slide projector and the smell of the buttered popcorn! I loved to hear of Maynard’s amazing and adventurous travels around the world, especially those which took place in Europe and Africa. Also, I could not help but laugh and smile at his bright-white long hair, stylish 1970’s clothes and glasses, and classic guitar. It would not have been difficult to find him in the remote villages of Africa! Through it all, I remember thinking about the far away places he visited, and how it all seemed like a world away. As a young man in rural central Wisconsin, I always wondered what it would be like to actually visit some of the same foreign places where he served. Amazingly, that day would eventually arrive.

Once Kristen and I were placed in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, in order to serve as Country Coordinators for the ELCA Young Adult in Global Mission program, I immediately knew that one day I would travel to see where my uncle Maynard spent much of the final years of his young life. I wanted to visit the Kingdom of Lesotho, walk through the streets of Maseru, and of course, explore the Lesotho Agricultural College and learn if anyone remembered him, or if there were any stories to share. I wanted to hear the sounds of the streets, the feel of the soil, the smells of the plants, and close my eyes in order to visualize what it may have been like for Maynard nearly thirty years ago. As Maseru is only a six hour drive from our home in Pietermaritzburg, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be able to make the opportunity a reality.

A few months ago, after nearly eighteen months living in South Africa, Kristen and I finally took advantage of an opportunity to travel to Lesotho and visit the LAC. As one can imagine, the opportunity to listen to stories about what my uncle may have experienced was a truly amazing occasion, for while I had never truly “known” Maynard, I felt a sense of connection that could not be rationally explained. As we were led through the area by one of the local LAC workers, I was able to see some the areas with my own eyes that I had once viewed only through photos and slides in the comfortable confines of my parent’s living room. The sights, sounds, and smells were wonderful, and it was an amazing occurrence that I will never forget.

As I write this reflection, my parents are sitting in my own living room here in Pietermaritzburg, as they are currently visiting South Africa for the first time. Kristen and I have spent the past weeks alongside them listening and learning, and of course, experiencing numerous sights and sounds of South Africa. As their time in the region comes to a close in just a few days, tomorrow will most likely be a major “highlight” of their journey. We plan to rise early in the morning and travel the six hours to Maseru in order for them to experience some of what Maynard had experienced so many years ago. I have no doubt that it will be an emotional experience, especially for my father. Over the past weeks I have heard numerous stories about Maynard and his time in southern Africa, and I believe our journey into Lesotho will be something we all will never forget. With all the excitement in the air, I doubt there will be much sleep tonight!

As I reflect upon this entire situation, there is simply too much running through my heart and mind to even try to capture and share in written form. Through it all, I am amazed by how my life has worked out in such a way that I am now able to visit places that I once dreamed unimaginable. And not only that, I am incredibly thankful for the love and support that Kristen and I have received from both of our parents, and how they are all willing to travel thousands of miles to come and visit us here in South Africa. When I sat in my parent’s living room so many years ago and watched the various slides of southern Africa roll by, I never could have imagined that one day I – a “small town kid” from Amherst Junction, Wisconsin, would be walking through the same areas. These days I am reminded that with God all things are possible, even if they do not seem probable.

While my parents are usually thousands of miles away, over the past weeks they have been sleeping under the same roof as Kristen and I. There are times that I have to pinch myself, as it often seems so strange! As I watch them move around the country meeting and greetings those whom have so gracious welcomed Kristen and I to this beautiful country, I have been thinking a great deal about the connectedness of family, which is something a great deal of South Africans consider at length. While those of us from North America do not pay much attention to “the ancestors” and all who have come before us in life, these recent experiences retracing Maynard’s footsteps alongside Kristen and my parents have reminded me that we are all products of those who have come before us, and our opportunities arise because we “stand on the shoulders” of family and friends who first paved the way. In a sense, I am beginning to believe there is no such thing as the “self made person” or the “do it yourself” individual, for we have been given opportunities, gifts, and abilities as a result of our environment and social settings. Yes, a large deal of success and happiness is based upon individual effort, but I am certainly beginning to believe that our nurture – the way that we were raised and the situations we dwell within – have a great deal of impact. While I like to believe that I have worked hard in order to “earn” the opportunities which I have been given, the reality is that they are more accurately a result of the undeserved gifts which I have received by God through my parents, those who walked this Earth before me, and of course, those whom Kristen and I are now blessed and honored to accompany.

I never would have imagined one day being able to live in South Africa, and I most certainly never would have imagined one day being able to visit where Maynard once lived. And of course, I never would have imagined that my parents would be willing to step so far out of their comfort zones to come and visit! Nevertheless, Kristen and I are here, and we have many people to thank for this amazing blessing. I thank God for our parents, the various congregations who support us through faith, as well as family and friends around the world who continue to think of us, pray for us, and encourage us in numerous ways. And of course, today I especially thank God for my Uncle Maynard. I thank God for the ways in which he – and so many others like him – did so much for so many and how he inspired others to follow his lead. And perhaps most of all, I pray that one day Kristen and I will be able to honor the blessings we have received by inspiring and supporting others just as so many others have done so for us.

As we come to a close on the year 2009 and look forward to 2010, may we all live our lives in a way that honors those whose who have come before us, and may we provide inspiration for those whom will eventually come after.

With peace and love this day and always,

Brian

"A search for opportunity" (Kristen F. Konkol)

She looks up from the washing and rests her weary hands on top of the bucket to see where all the sound is coming from. As she walks out beyond the gate and down the path to the small patch of red dirt the sounds become louder and more familiar. When she reaches the area where the sounds were emanating from, she steps forward with uncertainty to the small group gathered. As her calloused and tiny bare feet come into the circle, all eyes are upon her. The sounds she heard were familiar ones…those of the neighborhood boys playing and kicking around a make-shift soccer ball in one of any number of informal spaces in the area. But when she approaches, she is met with many looks of displeasure, restlessness and discontent. The cackling and sighs under their breath make their feelings transparent. The “ball” rolls to her feet, and with one touch she unlocks a palpable sense of vigor and excitement. Small posts made of sticks and old bottles are put on either side of this makeshift (garage-sized) space and the competition begins. Although the first days and weeks of ‘toeing the line’ to be just ‘one of the gang’ [who used every spare moment to play] were brutal and sometimes defeating, she remained persistent, focused and simply tried not to screw up and hear the demoralizing criticisms with arms raised in her direction. She is eager to hold on to this rare opportunity.

Born in a rural area of KwaZulu-Natal (at the time simply Natal), she was already faced with challenges that continued to test her and try to keep her down. As one of 6 children born to her mother and father, her life was quickly turned upside-down. With her father out of the picture from the beginning, she then faced an uphill battle as her mother died before she had reached two years of age. She and her siblings were then taken to an aunt in the Edendale Valley (just outside of Pietermaritzburg), where she still lives today. At the age of 5, she spent nearly a year of her life in the hospital fighting pneumonia for which they were told to plan a funeral. Today, her father, brothers and one sister have perished at very young ages (most presumably from HIV/AIDS) and one of her two remaining sisters is currently battling serious ill health. Her immediate family is all but gone. But it was from her father that she said that God placed this love and gift into her body…the physical gifts, love and passion to play the game of soccer. She knew she had to create that opportunity to shine.

Growing up in the Edendale Valley, she took advantage of any opportunity to play soccer. But as like many places in the world, opportunities for young women and girls to play sports (especially those “traditionally” for boys) was limited and she knew every time she got the chance to step out and compete with the boys that she had to prove herself. But she always asked herself, why? Why do people not want me to play? Why are there no girl’s teams? Why do they (the boys) get all the opportunities? As she got older, she heard that there were some girl’s teams in the country, but had no idea or resources to participate. It wasn’t until she was playing with a boy’s team that she was “seen” by someone in SAFA (South African Football Association) who had contacts with the likes of female teams. As her aunt had no phone and no way of really reaching her outside of finding the school she attended, she was a relative unknown. Her talent was not taken advantage of for lack of opportunity, exposure and ability to locate her. Then the call came in to the school…

Bayana Bayana (the female national soccer team) called her to come and train at a camp and play some matches with them when she was 15 and 16 years old. It was not long before that she was given her first pair of soccer shoes. To put on the national uniform in the relatively new democratic country was an amazing feeling for her and opportunities she says she will never forget. Although the experiences were meaningful, she wondered what was next in store for her career, as there still remained relatively few opportunities for females to play in the area. ‘Here I was playing for Bayana Bayana and now I come home and it’s back to playing with the guys.’ Although she admits that playing with males helped her with her skill, speed and toughness, she always wanted the opportunity to compete with and against other females.

It wasn’t until the early 2000’s that an organized league for females in the area was available. She has been playing on this team (Maritzburg City) since its inception and feels very happy that it was created. Although, she says, that part of her always wishes that these opportunities came earlier in her life as opposed to the latter stages of her career. Above all, she remains determined to create and encourage opportunities for female players today that she herself did not experience.

She remains with the local women’s team, and continues to play at a very high level, although the gray hairs on her low cut style are apparent. She spends many a weekend working with and coaching the next generation of female players and continues to assist SAFA with scouting of female players around the region. Her goal is to provide the opportunities and encouragement for young girls that she always yearned for. Although the days of females getting kicked off the soccer pitch by male teams and being scoffed at when arriving to play against male or female teams still happens (and did while I was there), strides are slowly being made.

It has been my privilege and joy to be able to call the person in this story my friend. We have not only played together in practices and games, but coached young girls alongside one another from all over the surrounding areas. Walking alongside and accompanying one another in mutual respect we have learned so much about not only each other but also about one another’s country, language and culture. Above all, the passion that we share is for women and girls to have the opportunity to compete, participate and enjoy the gift of games and sport...no matter what sport that is or where in the world that female may be!

With peace and blessings,

Kristen

"Bread & Circus" (Brian E. Konkol)

Near the turn of the second century, a Latin poet named Juvenal published a collection of verses titled Satires. Among other things, the text was meant to spark discussion in regards to social norms within the Roman Empire. Specifically, at a time when Juvenal believed the mass public was growing increasingly lazy and indifferent toward public involvement, he wrote:

…everything now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses (Juvenal, Satires 10.77–81).

What concerned Juvenal was the way in which citizens were growing less concerned about positive social change due to their overly obsessed pursuit of bread (comfort) and circus (entertainment). He believed political leaders were using comfort and entertainment as a way to “dumb down” the public, distract them, and open increased opportunities for manipulation. In addition, Juvenal believed the public was all to willing to cooperate in this process, for entertainment and comfort was much more attractive than striving for social justice alongside the poor and marginalized members of society.

What I find incredibly intriguing about Juvenal’s concerns are that, numerous generations later, it can be argued that much of what he considered to be problematic in Roman society continues to exist in our day and age. For example: How much of our daily thoughts and actions are geared toward the pursuit of bread and circus? How often does the search for comfort and entertainment guide the ways in which we use our time and resources? To what degree does bread and circuit influence the friends we chose or the interactions we seek? And from a different point of view: How often do we avoid situations that are uncomfortable and/or not entertaining? Are times of displeasure and boredom merely times to “endure” and/or “tolerate”, or should they be times to embrace? Is it not healthy to be uncomfortable and/or un-entertained every so often?

Naturally, there is nothing inherently wrong with comfort and entertainment when consumed in manageable doses. The enjoyment of “bread” and “circus” are to be received as God’s gifts, for they provide rest, relaxation, and a joyful break from the ever-present stresses of this world. When our daily lives included arguments surrounding government, various family concerns, work-related pressures, and growing anxiety about the economy, a bit of comfort and entertainment is a good thing! Nevertheless, like most anything in life, when something meant for good is used and/or pursued in excess, it can provide a great deal of harm. Comfort and entertainment are meant to serve as a retreat from the hard work of social engagement, but when used in excess they are anesthetics which numb us to that which is causing damage to others, as well as to ourselves.

With all this being said, I wonder what would happen if we allowed ourselves to be more uncomfortable and less entertained? What would happen if faithfulness and pursuit of justice for the poor and marginalized replaced bread and circus as primary goals of our existence? How would this transformation of priorities affect our lives? How would it affect those on the “lower rungs of society” whom are all too often forgotten? Instead of only participating in activities that we “enjoy” or consider immediately stimulating, or as a replacement for accompanying those whom we easily interact with, what would occur if we stretched our limits and pushed ourselves out of customary comfort zones? What would take place if we intentionally placed ourselves in situations we normally avoid? What if we broke through our various routines, tried something different, and as a result learned a great deal about others and ourselves throughout the process?

As Country Coordinators of the Young Adults in Global Mission program in South Africa, Kristen and I receive a firsthand look into what takes place when North American volunteers do not receive the “bread and circus” they are accustomed to. Instead of residing in comfortable environments with constant stimulation, they are urged to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings which require flexibility and resourcefulness. Instead of immediate access to Internet, cable television, and other comforts of “home”, they are forced to reconsider the significant difference between “needs” and “wants”. As time passes, volunteers no longer worry about what they do not have, but rather, their eyes are opened to what they do possess – fellowship with others as a result of incredible hospitality received from South Africa hosts. While the initial weeks of “bread and circus withdrawal” can be a challenge, volunteers experience incredible growth and life-transformation, to the point they are equipped upon return to the United States with a renewed outlook at life and increased confidence in their abilities to seek faithfulness and justice in an ever-changing world. Kristen and I are fortunate to have an opportunity to accompany such a faithful group of young adult volunteers, and we thank God for South African host communities who guide us throughout this incredible life-changing process.

I will be the first to acknowledge how tempting it is to remain within comfortable and entertaining environments, for the fact of the matter is that “bread and circus” can be quite fun! There have been numerous times in my life when I have spent far too much time and money on comfort and entertainment, and I suppose there have been days when I dreamed about winning millions of dollars in the lottery and then spending the rest of my days sitting on the couch with nothing to do but watch television and eat ice-cream! Nevertheless, underneath temporary moments of fantasy, I realize God has given us life not to be comfortable and entertained, but to be faithful and fruitful. Yes, there are times for rest and relaxation, yet our lives are not to be centered around the pursuit of bread and circus. We are called to love God and love others, which means, there are times when we need to seek-out the people and places where comfort and entertainment are not immediately present. There are times when we need to surround ourselves with those who are poor and marginalized, so that we can observe the injustices which so many face, and then learn listen and consider the best methods to move forward. There are times when we need to close our mouths and genuinely consider those who hold beliefs much different than our own. There are times when we need to passionately engage with public representatives for honorable laws and policies which serve a common good. There are times when we must admit that we have received benefits as a result of oppression, and we must ask for forgiveness while learning to accompany others in mutuality. These occasions are not comfortable, nor are they entertaining, but they are necessary for us to help create a world which is filled with compassion, love, and understanding.

Rather than “anxiously hoping” for bread and circus, as Juvenal lamented so many years ago, may we activity pursue what God has called us to be and do: agents of love and compassion in pursuit of dignity, hope, and justice for all people throughout the world.

Clearing away the smoke

Clearing away the smoke

Smoke billows into the air, covering the landscape. The clear sunny skies have a hazy look to them as the fire burns away at the earth. The acrid smell hits your nose and you merely look into the distance amongst the rolling landscape to spy the source stimulating your senses. The dry Kwa-Zulu Natal winter months bring many controlled (and some uncontrolled) burns to the dry, crisp and pale landscape. The charred and blackened earth can be seen in vast hectors of land in both rural and cityscapes alike. As you travel down the roads, you are occasionally even made to detour as the smoke envelopes the sky and visibility is minimal. This blackened earth is commonplace throughout the months of June-August in our province (and some others) as a practice of cyclic renewal of the earth. Oftentimes one may think how unattractive, stale and lifeless the landscape looks throughout these months. But with the first rains at the end of August, the green “fuzz” appears as you look over the vast areas of land. For amidst the charred and lifeless remains of earth springs new buds and blades of green. Renewal begins and the cyclic pendulum has swung, bringing beauty and color to the once inert landscape. The green “fuzz” gets thicker as the grass, plants and trees begin to taste the sweet drops of moisture from the swollen clouds. The beauty and fragrance of the flowering trees and plants tickles the senses as one walks down the road seeing eye-catching violets, corals, reds and other vibrant colors springing out from the buds. As the memory of the dry and charred earth fades, one is reminded that there is always more than meets the eye. For a snapshot in time of this blackened earth would not capture the potential and cycle of renewal that takes place in Kwa-Zulu Natal (and other parts of South Africa). There are so many life-giving occurrences that happen each and every day reminding us that there really is so much more than the senses can take in and process.

This can also be illustrated by a recent experience we were blessed with in Alexandra Township. “Alex” as it is known, is one of the oldest townships in South Africa and is situated on the outskirts of Johannesburg, close to Sandton, one of the very affluent and wealthiest suburbs in South Africa. In contrast, Alexandra is one of the poorest urban areas in the country. Picture over a million people sandwiched into a few square kilometers of space. As one enters the township many of the observed homes, hostels (housing thousands), dwellings and shacks are put together with any variety of resources.

Here the color and vibrancy of trees, grass and flowers are replaced by dirt, garbage and bland colored materials of the make-shift small shops and densely crammed houses. But just as the blackened earth provides one with the mistaken identity of a lifeless snapshot, the outward appearance of Alex is deceiving, for it is one of the most vibrant and alive places to have the opportunity to experience. The kids dancing on the corner, the soccer games happening in every available space, the women sitting, talking and singing as they sell their goods, the man sewing with amazing craftsmanship in his shop, people walking up and down the streets greeting one another with familiar smiles…life abounds! People flow in mass numbers up the main streets (6 in one direction, 22 the other) creating a notable buzz. The energy in Alex is contagious and one is reminded again that there is so much more than meets the eye. As we came to a seemingly ordinary and small room made of cinderblock, we are told it was once the home of the world-renowned Nelson Mandela. Not only he, but so many other notable names such as Hugh Masekela (musician and trumpeter), Mark Mathabane (tennis player and author of the autobiography Kaffir Boy), Samora Machel (former Mozambiquan president), Alfred Nzo (South African Minister of Foreign Affairs 1994-1999), Wally Serote (poet), Annie Twala (the "Mother of Alexandra"), Sam Buti (reverend) and many others called Alex their home. From one of the main streets we were then directed into an alley like area. From the portal of the road we entered the bowels of Alex and were treated to the sweet sounds of jazz. We were in one of the oldest jazz “clubs” in the country (oldest in Alex) and have an amazing cross-cultural exchange of learning local greetings with the people there. So many laughs occurred and so much was learned and experienced between two seemingly dissimilar people from different backgrounds. An observer would think it a group who knew each other for years. As dusk drew near, and we exited Alex, the “smoke” had cleared and we could see that this place was not the snapshot of a dry and blacked earth, but the green “fuzz” and vibrancy of so much potential, color and flare…the beautiful people!

What we are reminded of every day is how blessed we are to see the cycles of life here and to see beyond the snapshots and begin to piece together clips to the bigger picture. We are humbled each and every day to look beyond the sometimes challenging outward appearance and see the beauty and amazing gifts within the people we walk and serve alongside. For we continue to see that the blackened earth provides so many amazing green and vibrant blades of renewal and life-giving promise in so many ways!

With peace and love,

Kristen