The great thing about Anglican churches (or following the liturgical calendar) is that we celebrate SIX weeks of Easter. SIX weeks to ponder the mystery of Christ's work. All stops are out with this post, please enjoy my photo essay of how we began the celebration on Easter Sunday:

First things first ... Indian buffet for brunch.



Demolished. A meal fully enjoyed. I ate too much fennel at the cash register.

Then, afternoon church and potluck.










Easter was full of arrival, fun, love, and hospitality.
I will always remember singing at the top of my lungs with Nate after offering prayer ministry.
We both just shook and smiled and knew God was with us.

I've taken on pie as a hobby.



Dreaming it, making it, baking it, sharing it, eating it.
It's a beautiful thing.
There's really no telling when I'm going to bake.
Sometimes I just find myself on a Sunday night whipping my first ever batch of meringue.
And sometimes I find anise extract at the store and invent a pie in my mind
(then Google the recipe for it which I know probably exists), and begin.
These two have made their way into my heart, time and life lately:
Banana Meringue Pie & Pear Anise Pie.
Both with a new crust recipe which was a gem to work with.







I'm going to try and make a deep correlation here, between baking and my "greater things" mantra, okay? Follow me.
They are quite parallel things, making a pie and making a community.
They take imagination, work, patience and are practically useless unless utterly enjoyed.
I'm always the baker who eats a piece fresh fresh fresh out of the oven.
Always burning my tongue.
Never learning my lesson.
It's exciting to eat hot, but pie usually doesn't hold together well until cooled.
Maybe the same goes for community, especially new and diverse community?
It's an exciting thing to discover, but if we maul it hastily, it crumbles.
We risk exoticism and shallow consumption.
Both are necessary, I think, excitement and stability.
But overall, what's needed is respect. And sharing utter enjoyment with others.

Thanks for going there with me.
Have I got you dreaming about pie?

"I will know my Saviour when I come to Him
by the mark where the nails have been ... "



Jesus is the God who knows pain.
Born poor via an illegitimate birth, and faced injustice in His trial.
And He conquered it all.
Only a God who knows the oppression of earth could be a fair judge.

The truth about personality tests. (Or, how they make me feel.)

Myers & Briggs tell me I'm an "ISTJ."

The Enneagram says I'm a "Type One."

And sometimes, all I hear them call me is "Peaceful, hardworking, machine." Like a little bot people love for its dependability.

While some people enjoy using their personality types to explain their silly behavior and forgetfulness, I find myself wanting to apologize for mine. Sorry that I like rules and order?

I remember one day as a little girl, sitting in the back right seat of the car with my mom and sisters. It was our white jeep, old as I am. My mom (love her) was explaining to my middle sister that we have all moods which swing to change like a pendulum. She told the middle one that her pendulum swings back and forth, high and high, vigorously. It was a gentle way of addressing tantrums. She went on to say my pendulum swings very subtly. I know my mom loves this about me, and she meant it was a good thing, but it made me sad. I can still see her finger ticking back and forth to illustrate. Even as a child I felt defensive about my personality.

This is just an observation for lately.
And maybe a promise to work on it.

The good thing is that the people close to me are very good at telling me they love me. And I believe them. And truly, I like being me. There's not much trouble here to report on. Just something worthy of investigating and prayer.

Family Sleepover // Special Guests in Town



La casa Jake & Taylor became la casa to the traveling Pye family this weekend!
We hosted Owen, Jillian and Cash over for a family sleepover, and it rocked. Four adults and a baby crashing in a studio, waking up early, strong coffee and rounds of banana pancakes with a side of chitter chatter. I felt our tiny apartment brimming with the warmth of new friends and shared passions. I'm so thankful we had the chance to connect, and that Owen got to play here in Chicago. (And clearly Cash was the highlight of the visit.)




The day I first found Jillian's blog, I noticed they were touring all around but didn't have a show planned in Chicago. So I emailed her. And things were rolling by that evening. Jake booked some of our musically gifted friends to play with Owen and held the show at a church/venue in our neighborhood. I was really touched to see all of our friends who came out, and to see neighbors trickle in whom we didn't know.

It's incredible to meet a couple the same age as us, believing hard and working hard.
This is such a precious time in life and the Pyes are an inspiration.
It was so sweet to talk honestly with Jillian (late into the night) about everything;
so sweet to recognize this growing stage in our lives, old and youthful at once.
I can't wait to see what their family experiences in this amazing season of music.




Happy trails, Pye family!
Love, us

I live a very ordinary life.
I have a small apartment,
I take public transportation,
I eat my fruits and veggies,
my uniform is jeans and a v-neck,
I read books,
I work hard,
I save my money,
I have a husband and someday hope to have kids.

These ordinary things,
are extraordinary to me.

This is what liturgy has taught me:

an ordinary slice of bread, an ordinary cup of cheap wine, can become a sacrament of divine celebration and mourning all at once. 

The Jews hung an ordinary curtain to symbolize God's presence and Jesus tore through it. Just ordinary cloth.

Our apartment is a home, filled with love and sunshine.
I get a glimpse of my neighbors' souls when we ride trains and buses together.
Fresh produce replenishes my skin and bones, my entryway to the tangible world.
Someone far away made my clothes, we are connected, and for that I wear them reverently.
Comprehending the written language connects me to history and the yet to be.
My job forces me to interact with people daily, something I might otherwise struggle with.
Money can be used for awesome things, like funding schools and building sanctuaries.
Marriage affords me the incredible journey to selflessness, and an opportunity to be sanctified every day.

Good grief sometimes I can't take it!

"We might even suggest, as a part of a Christian aesthetic, that the world is beautiful not just because it hauntingly reminds us of its creator but also because it is pointing forward: it is designed to be filled, flooded, drenched in God." NTWright

Here's the last thing about me being white.
I am angry about it.
I'm angry that wherever I move, I'm bringing more white people with me.
I'm angry that I have many more opportunities and resources than my neighbors.
I'm angry that I thoroughly enjoy my privilege.
I get so angry on those days when I see children who can only walk to the convenience store on the corner to eat a bag of cheetos for dinner. So angry when I hear of children being harassed on their way to and from school. They didn't ask for that. And I didn't ask for better.
On those days, I pray from the angriest part of my heart,
Jesus please come back now and just save us all. I'm done watching this horror.

But what amazes me,
is that each day we wake, God is telling us that we're not done yet.  Each day we wake up, God is ready to do more work to renew His creation, and His plan is to use people to do it.



This song and these lyrics put me in my place.

What good would I be doing to reject my privilege? At least in the sense of the influence I can have in local politics. If my ethnicity is favored and authorities listen to me ... and if I have no fear when talking to authorities ... then I need to use these gifts to speak on behalf of others. Because some of my neighbors don't trust the law, and some of them wouldn't be given the time of day. I dare not throw away such a valuable gift that could bless others.

This was the most inspiring and question-producing lesson I learned at CUP.
I have no idea how to advocate for my neighbors needs. But I have to learn.
God made all people in His image, all people have dignity. It is horribly wrong when local authorities do not grant some people equal dignity. In order to truly reflect God, we all need each other to be included in the picture.

We all need each other. That's the brilliance in it!
I was talking with a friend of mine about her moving into a black and how she feared she wouldn't be able to advocate because she herself is black. But we both realized that her ethnicity and cross-cultural friendships are necessary to build trust between neighbors of different cultures. We all need each other. That's why it doesn't do anyone any good if I despise my ethnicity and privilege.

No more white people pretending they aren't white, I say.
Thank God for what He's given you and honor Him by enjoying it.
Own up and lend your gifts to the community.
And be willing to receive.

Being White. 2

The topic of gentrification reminds me that in general, there are ramifications for everything we do. I think this is particularly challenging for privileged people, because even if we live in a poor or under-resourced neighborhood, we can often afford the drive to another neighborhood to buy nicer things. I'm leaning over and over again from the people who inspire me that the vehicle for gentrification is money.

My friend (and co-worker) (and neighbor! she lives two blocks away) Rachel has inspired me to think deeper about the impact of our daily lives. I really love talking with her because she's been thinking in this direction much longer than I have, and she has the heart to see things through.

I'll always remember hearing the Walmart reps in Food Inc. say that it's not hard for them to decide to sell organic products if that's what the customers want. We truly are voting every time we make a purchase. Any purchase! So I'm voting local, organic, and pro labor rights.


Now is a really good time for Jake and I to start practicing ethical consumption,  because our budget is so simple. Here's where our money goes monthly: - rent - donations/ tithing - groceries - public transportation - car insurance - gas - cell phones - health insurance
The basics. Right? So before we get too grown up and have too many more complicated bills, we want to begin practicing ethical principles for buying.

Something new that I've been convicted about is how many resources I waste on clothes. I don't buy many new clothes, but it still seems silly to buy so many new things when there are great second hand stores to be found. I'm committing to not buying any retail clothing until the end of the year, it's very liberating to think about all of the resources we can save by recycling clothes!

Now about groceries ... our biggest opportunity to choose between local and non-local. Here's where I admit that I'm really spoiled and I have an awesome local grocery store where I can buy everything except underwear, clothes hangers, and beer. I've thought it through. We are committed to supporting them, so we've had to switch some of the brands we usually buy. I know everyone doesn't have this option, so I'm really thankful.

That's her on the left in all her glory. The most complicated line in our budget is definitely groceries. This is where we have the most freedom to support I've written before about how we decide to buy organic or non-organic produce.

I appreciate your feedback on this little journey of mine. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts. I'd love to hear more about what your neighborhood is like and if you have a resource like my heavily grocery store or not. Honesty, I don't know what I'd do without that place.

There's more to be said about gentrification, being white, and advocating for your neighborhood. Particularly when it comes to buying a home, I hear. But I'm keeping these thoughts within the realms of my experience.

What do you think about all of this? 
Am I off my rocker? 
Do you have a community that encourages you to invest in your neighborhood?

Resources:
Organic Buying
Labor rights
Why Humane is more important than organic milk.

Being white. 1

Oh, who likes that word? Not me. But for the sake of clarity, I am going to use it. I am white.

This means, as a grade schooler, my other white friends and I would ask and tell each other over and over again "what we were." Irish, Dutch, Native American, French ... I'm your typical caucasian mutt. And more. Being white means my culture is time-oriented, systematic, not afraid of authority, usually trusting of authority, and highly favored.

It's hard to distinguish these things coming from the majority and favored culture. It's difficult to narrow down what exactly my culture is. And while everyone's culture probably depends more on their own nuclear family, I love to hear more about the general distinctions and gifts of different cultures.

At the spring break trip that changed everything, I heard about the cultures of my brothers and sisters who are not white. Some shared that they are more people or event-oriented, and loyal. Some said they are ultra respectful of authority. And it's common for many of their cultures to distrust authority. It was good for me to hear from my friends, and to celebrate the gifts that their cultures bring to society and the church.

I also learned among giggles that camping and coffee shops are mostly white things.
This is the local place Jake and I frequent. The Common Cup:


Overall, I left wondering more about the impact my culture has on my church and neighborhood. And what to do with this new knowledge.

When I, as a single white woman moved into Rogers Park (I moved here before I was married) my neighbors noticed. And so did the local realtors. The color of my skin told these people that a privileged* woman feels safe walking around this neighborhood. Which might mean others like me would feel safe living here, too. My simple presence here influences rent prices and local business markets. (Am I more likely to support Whole Foods or my local grocery?) This is fact, because I am white, no matter what, no matter where I go. The only way to protect my neighborhood's diversity is to support those who are already here ... and that's where part two will pick up.

Can you distinguish your culture's unique traits?
What kind of an impact do you think your presence has in your town?
Where does your money go? 




      This is a complex subject that I know very little about, but I'm hoping to learn by speaking with others about it. What time would be wasted if I waited to be an expert before taking action? For more information about just gentrification, I've been suggested this resource: Gentrification with Justice by Bob Lupton. Would you look into this with me?

* I don't have a lot of money. But I have access, education, and favor among authorities. This makes me privileged. You only have to make 50k/year to be among the elite in the U.S. I will continue to refer to myself as privileged as a pure reminder to myself.

|All about cake|

My cutie friend is getting married!
And she, Elspeth, chose lucky me to attend her final cake tasting at Yum Cakes on Saturday.
We were offered fancy water bottles and devoured not a few cupcakes.
My favorite was the pralines and almond cake with a tiny macaron on top!







Then,
I woke up on Sunday and saw the recipe for my favorite cake on my kitchen table. Jake had unearthed it while organizing our closet (yes, he rocks). That cake sounded divine, so it being the sabbath and all, I dug right in.







I wish I could give you the recipe, but this is one time I don't feel I have the right. The recipe was created by my aunt's mother-in-law for all of her children's birthdays. I will say this, it is a rich, dense cake with coffee in it, and frosting that tastes like pudding! I need to come up with some holiday or reason to make this at least once per month.

Welcome to the week, everyone.

PS: I get to wear a Shabby Apple dress when I am in Elspeth's wedding!