For many of us, December is a month of urgency and expectancy. Finals will soon be over, vacation is around the corner, presents will be given, and a new year will begin. But as with many of us, we aren’t very good at waiting. Dietrich Bonhoeffer points out in his Advent reflections, “Waiting is an art that our impatient age has forgotten.”

He goes on to say, “Whoever does not know that austere blessedness of waiting – that is, of hopefully doing without – will never experience the full blessing of fulfillment. Those who do not know how it feels to struggle anxiously with the deepest questions of life, of their life, and to patiently look forward with anticipation until the truth is revealed, cannot even dream of the splendor of the moment in which clarity is illuminated for those.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent & Christmas, Day 2)

This weekend, Preston and I participated with others in an event in our community called “Broken Liturgy.” The intent of it was to be reflective on this season and truly experience expectancy and anticipation of the birth of Christ, God in flesh, remembered by the celebration of Christmas. As my contribution to the event, I made a photo essay from photos I have taken that I felt conjured up ideas of expectancy, anticipation, waiting, and hope.

ex·pect \
1. to look forward to; regard as likely to happen; anticipate the occurrence or the coming of: I expect to read it. I expect him later. She expects that they will come.
2. to look for with reason or justification: We expect obedience.
3. Informal . to suppose or surmise; guess: I expect that you are tired from the trip.
4. to anticipate the birth of (one’s child): Paul and Sylvia expect their second very soon.

an·tic·i·pate
1. to realize beforehand; foretaste or foresee: to anticipate pleasure.
2. to expect; look forward to; be sure of: to anticipate a favorable decision.

wait \
1. to remain inactive or in a state of repose, as until something expected happens (often followed by for, till, or until ): to wait for the bus to arrive.
2. (of things) to be available or in readiness: A letter is waiting for you.
3. to remain neglected for a time: a matter that can wait.
4. to look forward to eagerly: I’m just waiting for the day somebody knocks him down.

hope \
1. the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.
2. a particular instance of this feeling: the hope of winning.
3. grounds for this feeling in a particular instance: There is little or no hope of his recovery.
4. a person or thing in which expectations are centered: The medicine was her last hope.
5. something that is hoped for: Her forgiveness is my constant hope.

Which of these photos communicate these words to you most?
If you made a photo essay, what photos would you add to these?

See the full gallery HERE
 

I’d like to propose a name for a new practice, the quasimoon. Rather than plan yet another event right after their Big Day, many couples are starting a new tradition and are only taking a mini vacation right after their wedding and waiting to indulge in their blissful honeymoon escape several months later. Some do this for logistical or financial reasons, while others want to enjoy the time after the wedding when friends and family are still together.

We, on the other hand, took a quasimoon because we didn’t have any other choice. A week after our wedding, Preston was a groomsman in a childhood friend’s wedding in Indiana and 2 days later was scheduled to begin work in Pennsylvania. Thinking practically, we decided to make a quasimoon adventure of the 3,500 mile roadtrip we knew we had to take. With all the changes and events of this summer, the quasimoon turned out to be the best thing we could have done and eliminated the need to plan one more thing!

For me, the trip also seemed therapeutic. Not only were we now married, but we were moving to the other side of the country, I had just graduated, and we were leaving a community we had invested in for several years. Stepping off a plane in a new place with a new name and new life would have been too abrupt a change for this internal processor to process. But with each mile we traveled, I was able to let go of our life in California and anticipate what awaited us in Pennsylvania. We tried to recall all the events, people and memories we wanted to take with us into the next season but also talked about patterns we wanted to reset for the future. It was a physical and mental transition from one world to the next.

Along the ride, we saw some of america’s most beautiful countryside. We stopped for moose on the road in Utah and watched buffalo roam in Wyoming. We swam under the big sky of Montana and felt patriotic at Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota… We read books out loud and had bad dancing parties in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes we sat in silence enjoying the view with the sweet thought of the other sitting next to us until death do us part still sinking in. In three months, we’ll indulge in a honeymoon of our own in New Zealand and I have a feeling the blissfulness will have only multiplied.

Ah… Home sweet Home!
See all the photos and in larger sizes HERE.


p.s. what road trip would be complete without photos of state signs?!

Here’s to you, Fred and Sonja…. An event 7 years in the making, I was honored to be a part of your day and wish you the very best in this new chapter together.

Client viewing : 08.22.10 – Cortopassi (Please contact the bride and groom for the gallery password)
Facebook Album : Fred & Sonja

A special shout out to Sarah Howard (soon to be Gerber) for helping me photographically collect moments from the evening and I truly look forward to photographing your own wedding soon!

See highlights from the day in the gallery below:

They recently finished their masters degrees and wanted to celebrate the milestone and their new chapter in life. We re-lived all the late nights studying, walks on campus, and coffee shop discussions in their cozy life in Marin. I watched them laugh and tease, challenge and balance each other in a way that brings out the best in them both. Thanks for being a sounding board for me and being a safe place of processing. I hope these photos capture you well.

Client viewing : 08.05.10 – Pirtle (Please contact the bride and groom for the gallery password)

See highlights from the day in the gallery below:

I believe the phrase goes, ‘If these walls could talk, oh the stories they’d tell.” As I sit here with these children, I wonder what stories their feet would tell me. How many miles have they walked without shoes over rocky roads and uncultivated fields? How many times have they fetched the day’s water or run under a tree for shelter from the rain. These feet have built callouses to protect but also to survive. If their feet could talk, I think it would leave mine speechless.

I spent a week in northern Uganda where the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army) has rebelled against the government and has turned children into soldiers. I designed a master plan for an orphanage which focuses specifically on children who have seen and  lived through the atrocities of war. Through counseling, community and unconditional love, these children’s lives are in the process of being transformed.

06.19.09

[excerpts from my observations, field notes and analysis at Page Street from January 25 - May 7 though names have been changed. all photographs taken with permission]

I’ve attended Page Street Center’s food distribution program almost every Monday for four months. What began as ethnographic research and language observations of an urban center turned into a relationship with the people that superseded a school project.

Since 1968, Page Street has provided services to the community through many different weekly events, primarily through food distribution every Monday night. The location of Page Street plays strongly into whom is able to visit the center. It is situated near the Haight, known for its hipster crowd, and the Castro, home to a large homosexual community. Additionally, Asian immigrants from Chinatown make up a large component of the participants at the center.

The first time I walked into the center, I was scared; I didn’t know what to expect, who to talk to nor what to do. Now four months later, I smile as I drive around the corner and walk in to greet Carol in the kitchen. I give Darrel a pat on the shoulder and affirm his hat decision. Nate calls me cutie and Derrek plays me a song on the piano without ever reading a note. Angel and I do the crosswords, and I exchange mutual smiles with the Chinese women since I cannot share words with them. As time went on, my apprehension was dispelled and the connection to these people kept me coming back to visit long after class requirements were fulfilled.

In my time here, I’ve learned that people’s expectations guide their experience. For those who came merely seeking food and a hot meal, they found little beyond the satisfaction of these physical needs. To them, Page Street is merely a means to an end. Those looking for deeper connections and community reach into Page Street and find a place to know and to be known. Page Street, for these relational seekers, is more than a place to pass through but a destination to call home. The waiting area becomes a living room and dinner is shared together around a big family table. Love, like food, is offered without conditions and limits. Carol summed it up once so well when she said,

I have heard many people come in here and talk about how much they hate their parents and that they are looking for some kind of real family. Everyone is looking for love. Everyone is looking for someone to love them… I’ve had grown men come to me and hug me as tightly as my own son…I have had black men come to me, cry on my shoulder, and hug me… They come here to get food but the thing that they need more than anything is to be loved and accepted. I want them to know ‘I care for you, not how you look.’ I know they can feel that and I am glad that I can accept me too.

Page Street doesn’t fit the standard model of homeless centers nor does it embody the accepted frameworks of traditional church outreaches. Instead, Page Street occupies the undefined bridge between these two institutional structures by following the model of Jesus and simply caring for/about cast aside people in San Francisco. To those who expect to find traditional outcomes or processes, you will be disappointed. Page Street won’t meet your markers of success or protocols of efficiency. But for those of you willing to look deeper into the space and learn from the people, a living organic system saturated with a missional purpose will be revealed to you.

To belong to the community of Page Street requires only humility to accept the service of others. There is but one rule that governs the center, “We do not serve ourselves… we serve each other.” In submitting to this simple rule of law, Page Street has restored my humanness. I’ll never meet eyes with someone God doesn’t care about and at Page Street, I’m learning to thank God for the future and the past behind each set. Regardless of what stresses I had dealt with that day or what I had accomplished, entering the doors of Page Street reminded that I too was human. My purpose is no more important than another’s nor my dreams more worthy of fulfillment. Rich or poor, homed or homeless, hungry or fed, sick or well, we are all small parts in God’s larger story.

During this time of participatory observation, I have somehow become a regular. The people at Page Street have let me invade their space and photograph their world. Participants shared their stories with me and invited me to sit next to them during dinner. They cast aside my fears and hugged me in acceptance. Through them, I now see Page Street not as a center to visit but as a living and diverse system of which I am part. I came for school but left with a new place to call home.

and without delay, a new one was ordered and sent my way. i waited by the door like a child at christmas. i made sure i had my music down so i could hear the knock. i rescheduled meetings so i could be around as much as possible for the 12 hour window UPS gave me for her delivery time. and when that cute little brown suit knocked on my door, i almost hugged him… or at least smiled at him real big like. i ripped open the box and oodled at the goodness awaiting me all wrapped up in individual little plastic containers.

though there is much other work to be done and about 700 pages to read by next week, i sat on the cold floor of my room and introduced myself to my new business partner. here’s to you and i and all the adventures which await us.