I've officially been in Wichita for one whole month, a third of my internship. That blows me away. I feel as though I just got here maybe two weeks ago. The month has flown by. And it's been better than I hoped.
Here are some of the highlights of September:
My host family, the DeJongs, are wonderful. They've welcomed me in with amazing hospitality. I attend their church, Heartland, and their small group has also made me feel at home here.
My first campus experience, complete with training workshop and one of the big exhibits, was extraordinary. The drive to and from Indiana and Kansas with my new team was hysterical and heart-warming. Getting to meet and work alongside Stephanie Gray was a huge blessing. The training is invaluable, and I'm running out of adjectives to describe the outreach. My favorite conversations from those two days on the Purdue campus are already in blog form, but the other 27 conversations have been running through my mind ever since, reminding me to pray for the people I talked to there.
Grace! Grace Fontenot took me under her wing immediately. We have bonded over cats, flowers, St. Peter, colors, dancing in every open space, and spontaneity. She is in JFA's 2-year internship after completing the 3-month internship last fall.
When I found out I would be coming to Wichita, I googled "Swing dance Wichita" and found the Wichita Swing Dance Society, which has been an incredible joy. I've made new friends, danced my feet off, and laughed freely most Sunday nights. I needed this and I appreciate it so much.
Random adventures: David (the other three-month intern) and I explored the Kansas State Fair (so very Kansan) two weeks ago; Grace introduced me to coffee shops and amazing bacon; we visited the Wichita Art Museum and the Gateway Arch; attended two concerts; even successfully navigated an escape room and laser tagging with Swing friends. So many adventures.
Looking forward:
October holds exciting opportunities in Minnesota, Oklahoma, and New Mexico among others. I can't wait to experience the full 5-hour training seminar and meet dozens of students.
The hard conversations ahead are daunting. The topics of abortion, euthanasia, assisted suicide, and infanticide are often raised and discussed as we attempt to understand and help those we come in contact with. The certification training program is preparing me for all kinds of conversations with all kinds of people.
Thank you to everyone who has been praying for me. I've experienced good health, peace, and unending learning opportunities. God has been protecting me so much, from nightmares as well. I'm surrounded by men and women who share my passion and are guiding me graciously in this journey.
God led me with a strong hand through this first month and I can't wait to see Him work through these next two months.
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
Friday, September 15, 2017
Real Conversation at Purdue University: Owl City and DNA
I was standing off to one side, inside the barricade of the exhibit. I had just finished one conversation and asked God to let me have a few minutes before the next one. I was zapped and not sure when I would have enough energy for the next conversation. I could hear "Unbelievable" by Owl City wafting through the air. "That's so cool," I thought to myself, "there must be someone on a bicycle riding by playing that song." After a minute or so of zoning out, I tuned back into the song and realized it wasn't going anywhere. (You can tell I was tired.) The song was getting me excited, so I looked to my right and saw the bike that my brain had told me about!
Standing by his bike and writing something on the Free Speech board was Nick*. I ran over to him, leaned over the barricade and said, "Owl City!" Looking up from his writing, Nick said, "Yeah?" And went back to writing. Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, I read aloud what he had written, "Everyone is born equal. You can add or subtract to that value later." When I asked what he meant by that, he wrote, "All people are equal. Some people are more equal than others. -Orwell"
I've read Animal Farm, but he had not, so I asked, "what are things that people do that you would say detract from their personal value?" He mentioned things like harming, demeaning, and killing people. We agreed together that abortion is included in his definition of killing. Instead of assuming we were on the same page, I directed the conversation to one of the fundamental points I've been taught to cover with people: "Is there a particular point in pregnancy where you would say abortions should not be done?" He considered this and said, "Around six or seven weeks when the heartbeat starts. It's not a person until then."
We had built a good base for a friendship by this point, so I let some more of my sudden energy channel into my next question: "Would you believe me if I told you the heartbeat starts at 3 weeks?" He seemed unfazed by this and just bumped his statement up to the line I had redrawn for him: "Then they shouldn't abort after three weeks." We talked for a while about why he thought heartbeat was the one thing essential to define the start of value in a person's life.
Instead of debating this with him like I would have done before JFA, I called to mind a fact that I had learned the previous week. "Do you mind if I geek out for a minute?" (As if I hadn't been doing that this whole time.) "Go ahead," he said kindly. So I launched into an explanation of DNA, describing it as a box that is completely human, completely unique, and houses everything we as people can call our body. "The only things that change from conception to you and me are time and food."
He considered that for a while and asked me to draw out the meaning. "Your heartbeat, the one you insist has to be present for value, is already present inside the box of DNA. It just needs time and food to turn into the beating heart and everything else. It's all right there from the very beginning." He thought about it, explained it back to me, and said, "then all abortion is wrong no matter when it happens."
I did a happy dance and we talked on and off for two more hours about Christianity, Buddhism, feminism, and what it means to respect life. At one point, a Christian student joined our conversation and shared her testimony! Afterwards, my energy was waning and his was only increasing. It was 2 o'clock when I said, "Nick, I've loved talking with you. Do you mind if I go eat lunch now?" We exchanged numbers, and he cheerfully biked away.
Standing by his bike and writing something on the Free Speech board was Nick*. I ran over to him, leaned over the barricade and said, "Owl City!" Looking up from his writing, Nick said, "Yeah?" And went back to writing. Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, I read aloud what he had written, "Everyone is born equal. You can add or subtract to that value later." When I asked what he meant by that, he wrote, "All people are equal. Some people are more equal than others. -Orwell"
I've read Animal Farm, but he had not, so I asked, "what are things that people do that you would say detract from their personal value?" He mentioned things like harming, demeaning, and killing people. We agreed together that abortion is included in his definition of killing. Instead of assuming we were on the same page, I directed the conversation to one of the fundamental points I've been taught to cover with people: "Is there a particular point in pregnancy where you would say abortions should not be done?" He considered this and said, "Around six or seven weeks when the heartbeat starts. It's not a person until then."
We had built a good base for a friendship by this point, so I let some more of my sudden energy channel into my next question: "Would you believe me if I told you the heartbeat starts at 3 weeks?" He seemed unfazed by this and just bumped his statement up to the line I had redrawn for him: "Then they shouldn't abort after three weeks." We talked for a while about why he thought heartbeat was the one thing essential to define the start of value in a person's life.
Instead of debating this with him like I would have done before JFA, I called to mind a fact that I had learned the previous week. "Do you mind if I geek out for a minute?" (As if I hadn't been doing that this whole time.) "Go ahead," he said kindly. So I launched into an explanation of DNA, describing it as a box that is completely human, completely unique, and houses everything we as people can call our body. "The only things that change from conception to you and me are time and food."
He considered that for a while and asked me to draw out the meaning. "Your heartbeat, the one you insist has to be present for value, is already present inside the box of DNA. It just needs time and food to turn into the beating heart and everything else. It's all right there from the very beginning." He thought about it, explained it back to me, and said, "then all abortion is wrong no matter when it happens."
I did a happy dance and we talked on and off for two more hours about Christianity, Buddhism, feminism, and what it means to respect life. At one point, a Christian student joined our conversation and shared her testimony! Afterwards, my energy was waning and his was only increasing. It was 2 o'clock when I said, "Nick, I've loved talking with you. Do you mind if I go eat lunch now?" We exchanged numbers, and he cheerfully biked away.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
Real Conversation at Purdue University: Overcoming Stereotypes
I barely had time to ask, "what do you think about abortion?" before she launched. For a few minutes, she unloaded on me with a constant stream of accusations. She was livid and she wanted me to know about the injustices that "people like [me]" were committing against unsuspecting pro-choicers.
At first, there seemed to be very little space for me to use the three skills I had been taught in the Justice For All seminar before outreach: 1) Ask questions with an open heart. 2) Listen to understand. 3) Find common ground where possible.
I employed the listening skill first. In her view, the pro-life movement was abusing women's health institutions, "demanding they close their doors because 'the hallways aren't wide enough.'" She had a list of complaints, but eventually she began to slow her tirade, realizing that I wasn't getting angry or contradicting her.
Finding common ground was difficult, but there were opportunities. "I agree that there have been injustices committed by both sides." When she described the attacks on clinics, I could freely say, "Our organization does not condone any violence. We respect all life, especially yours." That caught her off guard and I think that was the first time she caught her breath in minutes. Her tone became more gentle, turning sad. She connected to this issue on a personal level.
She had a friend who helped to calm her down. If Kylie* was the pro-choice representative, and I was the pro-life rep, then Sarah was the middle ground. She didn't really know what she believed.
Since we had established that I didn't hate them, I asked a few questions. What would be a good solution to the problems they saw with certain laws? We talked about the adoption system and found more common ground there. What should be done to help women through their pregnancies? We thought through the difficulties of hypothetical pregnancies and I listened as they came up with good alternatives all on their own. I looked back over the past few minutes and noted aloud that we were having a civilized discussion even though we believed different things. Sarah excitedly agreed with me and Kylie frowned, but thanked me for listening to her.
"I hope I gave you something to think about," Kylie said as she walked away. "You did," I said, "And I hope I did the same for you."
Sarah smiled back at me as they left.
*Names changed
At first, there seemed to be very little space for me to use the three skills I had been taught in the Justice For All seminar before outreach: 1) Ask questions with an open heart. 2) Listen to understand. 3) Find common ground where possible.
I employed the listening skill first. In her view, the pro-life movement was abusing women's health institutions, "demanding they close their doors because 'the hallways aren't wide enough.'" She had a list of complaints, but eventually she began to slow her tirade, realizing that I wasn't getting angry or contradicting her.
Finding common ground was difficult, but there were opportunities. "I agree that there have been injustices committed by both sides." When she described the attacks on clinics, I could freely say, "Our organization does not condone any violence. We respect all life, especially yours." That caught her off guard and I think that was the first time she caught her breath in minutes. Her tone became more gentle, turning sad. She connected to this issue on a personal level.
She had a friend who helped to calm her down. If Kylie* was the pro-choice representative, and I was the pro-life rep, then Sarah was the middle ground. She didn't really know what she believed.
Since we had established that I didn't hate them, I asked a few questions. What would be a good solution to the problems they saw with certain laws? We talked about the adoption system and found more common ground there. What should be done to help women through their pregnancies? We thought through the difficulties of hypothetical pregnancies and I listened as they came up with good alternatives all on their own. I looked back over the past few minutes and noted aloud that we were having a civilized discussion even though we believed different things. Sarah excitedly agreed with me and Kylie frowned, but thanked me for listening to her.
"I hope I gave you something to think about," Kylie said as she walked away. "You did," I said, "And I hope I did the same for you."
Sarah smiled back at me as they left.
*Names changed
Real Conversation at Purdue University: Persuasion
He was standing off to the side, studying the exhibit. I walked up and asked what he thought.
"I can't tell you what I think about abortion. My class is right over there. I'm about to do a lecture on persuasion. I don't want them to know what I think."
I asked his name and realized I was talking to a professor. We talked about his PhD program and the culture's general perception of abortion. I deeply wanted to discuss this controversial topic with him, but I couldn't see an open door. I asked, "Do you have any questions?" To my surprise, he did.
"What would you say is the strongest case against abortion?"
It was one of the widest doors I have ever been shown, so I entered without planning my next words.
"I believe the strongest case against abortion is science. Science says that life begins at conception, which makes abortion murder. We stand with science.
"But I also believe that you cannot be 'against' something without being 'for' something else. I am for women. I believe that the strongest case for life is the women who experience pregnancy. They are scared, they need help, and abortion does not provide that help. I have never met a post-abortive woman who did not eventually regret her abortion. My goal is to prevent that pain by offering her a loving alternative, supporting her through her pregnancy and the life of her child as far as she lets me help.
"The strongest case against abortion is science, but the strongest case for life is women. You can't have one without the other."
He accepted my answer, thanked me for my time, and walked away.
"I can't tell you what I think about abortion. My class is right over there. I'm about to do a lecture on persuasion. I don't want them to know what I think."
I asked his name and realized I was talking to a professor. We talked about his PhD program and the culture's general perception of abortion. I deeply wanted to discuss this controversial topic with him, but I couldn't see an open door. I asked, "Do you have any questions?" To my surprise, he did.
"What would you say is the strongest case against abortion?"
It was one of the widest doors I have ever been shown, so I entered without planning my next words.
"I believe the strongest case against abortion is science. Science says that life begins at conception, which makes abortion murder. We stand with science.
"But I also believe that you cannot be 'against' something without being 'for' something else. I am for women. I believe that the strongest case for life is the women who experience pregnancy. They are scared, they need help, and abortion does not provide that help. I have never met a post-abortive woman who did not eventually regret her abortion. My goal is to prevent that pain by offering her a loving alternative, supporting her through her pregnancy and the life of her child as far as she lets me help.
"The strongest case against abortion is science, but the strongest case for life is women. You can't have one without the other."
He accepted my answer, thanked me for my time, and walked away.
Real Conversation at Purdue University: "I'm a miracle!"
I turned around after finishing one conversation and noticed her standing there, looking at the exhibit. I waved and smiled, "Can I ask you what you think about abortion?"
Typically, when I ask that question, people stand there and ponder the question for a moment before answering, but she was ready. After smiling back, she answered with another question. "Say there's a terminally ill woman who is passing on her illness to her unborn child, shouldn't we give the woman the opportunity to end her pregnancy so that she doesn't have to watch her child suffer?"
The question took me by surprise, but it reminded me of something I had learned from Stephanie Gray, a Canadian pro-life apologist. I asked this student if I could ask her another question and she said yes. "You have a friend on the other side of the world who calls you up and says, 'I just found out I have cancer and have only four months to live.' Do you wait until about month three and say 'I guess I should visit them?" Or do you take the next plane out?"
She didn't hesitate at all. "The next plane! Absolutely!" This was very encouraging to me, so I followed up, "Of course! Now apply that to the mother in the hypothetical situation you gave me a moment ago."
Her eyes lit up. "My mom did that!" She explained that her little brother had only been alive three days after he was born. Her mom stayed by his side every moment until he died. "I only wish I would have met him. I've never thought of him in relation to this before. I cannot stand by my question with that in mind."
We exchanged some stories and I got her name. Then she came up with a new question. "Say there's someone with a terminal illness who doesn't want to live anymore because they are tired of knowing they're going to die. Should we give them the chance to choose assisted suicide?"
Again, the question seemed to come from left field, but it brought to mind a question I find very important. I just asked, "Do you believe in miracles?"
Immediately a light turned on in her mind and she burst out, "I'm a miracle!" Diving into her personal story, she explained that she was born with what her doctors described as a terminal illness. Defying the odds, she turned her few month diagnosis into the young woman standing in front of me. "I'm only here because of a miracle! I cannot stand by my question any more."
We shared more stories about miracles we had witnessed in our lives. She wasn't a Christian, but she let me talk about the amazing things I have seen God do in my life and the lives of others. The last thing she told me was, "I would absolutely make every opportunity for a miracle to happen. I hope I get the chance to do that one day."
And she walked away.
Typically, when I ask that question, people stand there and ponder the question for a moment before answering, but she was ready. After smiling back, she answered with another question. "Say there's a terminally ill woman who is passing on her illness to her unborn child, shouldn't we give the woman the opportunity to end her pregnancy so that she doesn't have to watch her child suffer?"
The question took me by surprise, but it reminded me of something I had learned from Stephanie Gray, a Canadian pro-life apologist. I asked this student if I could ask her another question and she said yes. "You have a friend on the other side of the world who calls you up and says, 'I just found out I have cancer and have only four months to live.' Do you wait until about month three and say 'I guess I should visit them?" Or do you take the next plane out?"
She didn't hesitate at all. "The next plane! Absolutely!" This was very encouraging to me, so I followed up, "Of course! Now apply that to the mother in the hypothetical situation you gave me a moment ago."
Her eyes lit up. "My mom did that!" She explained that her little brother had only been alive three days after he was born. Her mom stayed by his side every moment until he died. "I only wish I would have met him. I've never thought of him in relation to this before. I cannot stand by my question with that in mind."
We exchanged some stories and I got her name. Then she came up with a new question. "Say there's someone with a terminal illness who doesn't want to live anymore because they are tired of knowing they're going to die. Should we give them the chance to choose assisted suicide?"
Again, the question seemed to come from left field, but it brought to mind a question I find very important. I just asked, "Do you believe in miracles?"
Immediately a light turned on in her mind and she burst out, "I'm a miracle!" Diving into her personal story, she explained that she was born with what her doctors described as a terminal illness. Defying the odds, she turned her few month diagnosis into the young woman standing in front of me. "I'm only here because of a miracle! I cannot stand by my question any more."
We shared more stories about miracles we had witnessed in our lives. She wasn't a Christian, but she let me talk about the amazing things I have seen God do in my life and the lives of others. The last thing she told me was, "I would absolutely make every opportunity for a miracle to happen. I hope I get the chance to do that one day."
And she walked away.
Many Roads: From Desperation to Wichita
Almost exactly two years ago, I started asking God to let me go on an adventure. I wanted to be thrown out of my comfort zone, into a strange new land (like Michigan or Pennsylvania), and I wanted to help the pro-life cause while I was at it. I had no plan, so I put my feelers out. I sent job applications to crisis pregnancy centers in seven different states. Anyone could have told you I was desperate. One by one, phone call after email, God shut every one of those doors which had seemed so open and inviting. I couldn't understand why God didn't like my idea. "Anywhere, God, please, but here," was my prayer. He was asking me to stay home, and like the God He is, He gave me opportunities to face a few fears:
-For a long time, I've been afraid that little kids don't like me. It always took them a while to warm up to me. So when I was asked to be a mother's helper for a wonderful family, I said yes. I learned so much letting a three-year-old drag me all over my hometown. She tore apart my fear and replaced it with hope.
-Summer 2015 at the Chapel was hard for me and I was afraid it would only get harder. So when the director asked me to create a counselor position in the Chapel in 2016, I said yes. And I experienced the best summer yet. God let me train as a pro-life counselor and gave me hope to continue my cause.
-During my nightmares, I developed a fear of dogs. So, every time over that year I was asked to watch dogs, I said yes. It was hard at times, but it was incredibly healing. God knew what He was doing.
These roads through fears and hopes were not what I was asking for. Slowly, though, He taught me to be content. I stopped asking to leave. "Show me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
So He sent me down more little roads that I didn't understand at the time:
-I never technically signed up to help at Bible Day Camp, but I showed up and they put me to work. At the end of that week, our kids knew how to spell "Christian", put on several skits all by themselves, and were hugging me goodbye.
-I didn't go back on Staff at the Chapel this summer, but I did visit my sisters several times. I was blessed over and over again by the camaraderie of 2017 Staff and was given the gift of leaving with peace each time.
-I'm not good at dancing and it used to make me very self-conscious, but I attended nine dances this year. And loved every minute of those swing dances, contra dances, and Civil War balls. They were thoroughly unexpected adventures.
On July 30th, I was offered an internship with Justice For All, a pro-life organization that does campus outreach all over the States. I applied and was accepted in two weeks. Two weeks later I packed my life into my car and drove to Kansas. I've been here for two weeks now. That blows my mind. After two years, God sent me on a road trip I never expected. "Would you ever have thought you'd end up in Wichita, Kansas?" One friend asked me when I got the news. "No," I answered, "never."
So here I am, and I will be using this blog to keep people posted on what God is doing in this place I didn't know to ask for after He filled my days with one small road after another.
-For a long time, I've been afraid that little kids don't like me. It always took them a while to warm up to me. So when I was asked to be a mother's helper for a wonderful family, I said yes. I learned so much letting a three-year-old drag me all over my hometown. She tore apart my fear and replaced it with hope.
-Summer 2015 at the Chapel was hard for me and I was afraid it would only get harder. So when the director asked me to create a counselor position in the Chapel in 2016, I said yes. And I experienced the best summer yet. God let me train as a pro-life counselor and gave me hope to continue my cause.
-During my nightmares, I developed a fear of dogs. So, every time over that year I was asked to watch dogs, I said yes. It was hard at times, but it was incredibly healing. God knew what He was doing.
These roads through fears and hopes were not what I was asking for. Slowly, though, He taught me to be content. I stopped asking to leave. "Show me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
So He sent me down more little roads that I didn't understand at the time:
-I never technically signed up to help at Bible Day Camp, but I showed up and they put me to work. At the end of that week, our kids knew how to spell "Christian", put on several skits all by themselves, and were hugging me goodbye.
-I didn't go back on Staff at the Chapel this summer, but I did visit my sisters several times. I was blessed over and over again by the camaraderie of 2017 Staff and was given the gift of leaving with peace each time.
-I'm not good at dancing and it used to make me very self-conscious, but I attended nine dances this year. And loved every minute of those swing dances, contra dances, and Civil War balls. They were thoroughly unexpected adventures.
On July 30th, I was offered an internship with Justice For All, a pro-life organization that does campus outreach all over the States. I applied and was accepted in two weeks. Two weeks later I packed my life into my car and drove to Kansas. I've been here for two weeks now. That blows my mind. After two years, God sent me on a road trip I never expected. "Would you ever have thought you'd end up in Wichita, Kansas?" One friend asked me when I got the news. "No," I answered, "never."
So here I am, and I will be using this blog to keep people posted on what God is doing in this place I didn't know to ask for after He filled my days with one small road after another.
Chorus of "Many Roads" by Andrew Peterson
"Could it be that the many roads
You took to get here
Were just for me to tell this story
And for you to hear this song
And your many hopes
And your many fears
Were meant to bring you here all along"
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