Harpenden

We took the circus on the road two weeks ago and pitched our tent in Harpenden, England. Let me tell you, in terms of YWAM bases, it was upgrading from the Bates Motel to The Ritz. There was space, there was grass, there were tables and chairs, oh my. And I got to pop into London to refresh my soul in one of my favorite places on the planet. It was as if returning to Narnia, a bit of a dream, though our purpose there was no fluffy affair.

For a week we sat before Carl Stauffer, as he lead us through a bit of training and discussion on reconciliation. An animated fellow, Carl worked in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa and mediates civil conflicts throughout Africa. Peace building, trauma healing, restorative justice, Mr. Stauffer walked us through the practical and gritty work that lies in the reconciliation field. The big R word happens in little ways, in a long process that is founded in recognizing everyone’s humanity and value, that everyone has a story and motives and forces that drives action. The Lord needs people to walk alongside others in this process, to sit in puddles of despair with them, to create a safe space to dialogue in, to rise together past anger.

He spoke at the frequency of my heart. I left this graphic week tired and wondering could this be for me…

Translations

Trousers = Pants
Pants = Underwear
Jumper = Sweater
Biscuits = cookies
Tea = dinner
Supper = after dinner snack
Toilet/loo/Jack = bathroom
Hole in the wall = ATM/cash machine
Pudding = dessert
Builder's Bum = Plumber's CrackCulchie = Country folk
Bog = Toilet
Birds = Girls
Blokes/Lads = Boys
Wick =Bad
Cuppa = Cup of tea
Janey Mac = something shocking
Gutties = boots
Trainers/runners = sneakers
Phone box = phone booth
Plasters = band aids
A&E = ER
Settee = couch/sofa
Chips = French fries
Chippy = fast food joints
Screw = Police officer
Lorry = truck
Left on the shelf = older single woman
Trolley = shopping cart
Camp = effeminate
Jotters = notebooks
Brolly = umbrella
Ginger = red head
Jog On= Scew You
Taking a Piss= Making fun

There's nothing like a little pants mix up to light up a crowd.

Beginnings

Many tall, thick days have passed since arriving November 3rd. Already, I am more and less of myself than ever before. Situated behind bars, barbed wire windows, and a thirty foot peace wall I am free, free to explore and become who I am meant to be. This place is perfect for me. There is a spark to this group, an aroma of honesty and unabated life. From Sri Lanka, Palestine, USA, Canada, Ireland, Northern Ireland, South Africa, and Holland, these strangers have become my patchwork family. On the surface one could say we hardly know each other, yet something is at work within us, the joining of roots under the surface.

We have messy little routines each day: start the shower rota at 630 am, catch the toilet seat before it slaps you on the back (permanently broken), enjoy your 15 minutes of shower solitude, shuffle around the 3 people in your room to dress, 20 minutes of hustling down the Shankill over rubbish strew streets, wave to the mural of the Queen Mum looking like a Muppet, arrive at St. Michaels Church for lectures. Proceed to huddle around the two functioning heaters, hold tea mugs for warmth, laugh hysterically and think provocatively about faith and violence and hope until 2. Then scatter for respective chores, errands, and meanderings gathering back at our house by 6. For 6 is dinner and only the quick get to sit on couches, the rest on the floor. Continue to laugh until it's your time to wash the dishes. Then you feel overwhelmed by the amassing dishes in our pantry sized kitchen, proceed to laugh, wash, rejoin the group, and account the tales of the day. Also it is a necessity to find time during the week to eat potatoes 4 times and get rained on 6 times, absolutely.

Yes there is indeed something at work in our leaning houses. Perhaps if you looked at it from above you'd think we throw pixie dust against the walls, as there is a glow amidst a general gloom in the neighborhood. Which is exactly the point. West Belfast is a blighted community; forgotten by the momentum of development and prosperity, left as a functioning though severed limb. And we are there in our imperfect, small way to say no, you will not be forgotten, it does not have to be like this. It is a post war community, stunted by generations of trauma and disenfranchisement, living in a period of tolerance for the "other side." But YWAM Belfast has the vision to move beyond just tolerance to interdependence and reconciliation. And a vision to do this with respect not condescension, dignity not pity, and listening not imposition. For that I am so proud to be here.

Shalom Friends,

I must admit I enter this medium with hesitancy. To write something of myself and expect it to be worthy of you attention seems vain on my part. Alas it seems the superior options to mass emails. Thus, I give you Scribbles in Belfast. I do not contend to write anything exquisite but will profess to be part of something extraordinary. The things that are happening in this heart, this community, this city are epic in the smallest and most important of ways. I hope to give you a sliver of this blessing and a glimpse into this adventure.