Shalom, friends.
I hope this post finds you well. For about a month now I have had an itch to put to paper some of the stories that have unfolded in 2011. After about 2 years of transition from Sitka “down south”, I finally find myself in a more settled place and hopefully I have been able to sift through my mostly mundane experiences for some kernels of truth to bring closure to this volume.

In honor of this season's celebration of the incarnation, let this be a catalogue of how the Joy of Christ has been present to me this year.

I am grateful for priceless time with my grandparents.
Sharing life with my delightful and loving grandparents is such a nourishing way to start the day. Breakfast was a highlight when we lived together during the fall of 2010, and I made a point to continue to have breakfast with them in their new home about once a week while I still lived in Indianapolis. I was very amused when I realized we talked more about my sinus issues and dental woes than either of their health. They also are the biggest fans of my piano playing that I will ever have so I have been capitalizing on playing their piano whenever I get the chance.

I am grateful for acclimating to the Midwest.
I went through an embarrassing and socially isolating amount of culture shock moving from Alaska to the Midwest. I spent many childhood summers here, but it turns out winter can be different than summer time. I do not like football, and most non-family social events revolve around football in Indianapolis. A turning point was learning that I can enjoy “watching” football games by positioning myself next to the television, facing away from the screen, with some knitting in hand. I enjoy the self-deception that everyone seems to be looking at me! When their faces get really animated I can turn to see what’s happening on the screen, too. Other Midwest lesson: Snow days are awesome when they turn into a spectacular sleep over and de-icing-the-car adventure at the home of two hospitable friends.

I am grateful for movement from loneliness to solitude.
If I was asked to recommend one book from this year, it would be Present, Perfect: Finding God in the Nowby Greg Boyd. The best tidbit was learning to hit the snooze on my alarm and then sit up in bed and just be with God’s loving presence the first 5 minutes of everyday. As I write this, I realize that I should get back into that practice again, it was truly life giving when I practiced it.

I am grateful for good old friendships.
I was able to spend almost two weeks in Sitka during April. It was such a pleasure to reconnect and deepen friendships with my community there. I was overwhelmed that I wasn’t off the plane for an hour before friends congregated at the Larkspur café for a yummy dinner and enjoying each other’s company. A special highlight was a carpe diem kayak camping trip out to Pirates Cove: A beautiful sunset over Mt. Edgecumbe, an eagle soaring low over our beach, a full moon shining on the cove… and of course, some amazing campside cooking, all left me in awe of the raw and wholesome goodness of creation. Did I mention that my layovers in Seattle boasted time with Killeen Clare Hanson and my brother? Awesome.

I am grateful for family.
My parents and sister completed the Great Sisk Migration to Indy by moving our Houston home front permanently to our grandparents’ house in Indianapolis. This is where I moved in with my grandparents in August 2010; in October they moved a mile up the road into a house with simpler upkeep. It has been awesome to share life with my parents and goof off with my sister Anne, who is now 15 and a freshman in High School.

I am grateful for a glimpse of the Kingdom.
Beuchner put it well when he said that the place God calls you is where the world’s deep hunger and your deep gladness meet. During my visit to Sitka, I expressed to one of the Sitka Young Life board members how much joy I experience working with children with special needs. Next thing I knew I was signed up to accompany three awesome Sitka gals (Nicole 16, Maddy 16, and Cayla 18) who wanted to be buddies to Young Lifers with special needs at a Young Life Summer camp in Arizona. During the week I was often moved to tears by how everyone was caring and empowering each other, visible examples of the Kingdom of God here on earth. It really became a little embarrassing to find myself with tears streaming down my face so often, but many others experienced the week in a similar way. What a gift.

I am grateful for adventures.
This year I decided it was time to face my childhood fear of language immersion, and this July I traveled to Xela (Quetzaltenango,) Guatemala to live with a family there and study Spanish and the local culture. I had many experiences of feeling totally frustrated trying to learn Spanish. I did eventually improve a little; my expectations were just a little… unrealistic. After a year of working with children with linguistically limited children, I experienced the beginnings of what it would be like to be stripped of the ability to express my needs and emotions. I hope that this has deepened my empathy for the children I work with as a speech-pathologist.

I am grateful for learning.
This fall I moved to Bloomington, Indiana to start graduate school at Indiana University. I live at the northwest corner of campus in a retro house converted into little studio apartments. My 15-minute walk to my department includes paths through forests and over streams, so it suits me pretty well. My favorite aspect of the Speech-Language Pathology program is having a group of friends taking all the same classes. About 10 grad students are on the same track as me and we travel and sit in a pack in our prerequisite undergrad classes. All told, I love being a student. I will take classes until the summer of 2013, when externships in first a hospital, then a school working with people struggling with swallowing or communication (broadly put). I look forward to starting the practicum component in the clinic this next semester.

I am grateful for a new home.
Bloomington truly has begun to feel like a new home for me. With my cousin Marie’s encouragement, I have become a part of the extended Catholic Worker community here in Bloomington. From the first potluck I attended, I felt like I had found a Christian community I could call home, contribute to and be challenged by. I’ve since learned more about the personalism and radical hospitality of the Catholic Worker movement, values that expand upon the values of spirituality, simplicity, social justice, and community that became near and dear to my heart as a Jesuit Volunteer in Sitka. The eagle has became a meaningful metaphor for my spirit while I was living in Sitka, and so you can imagine how much it meant to me to be traipsing along on a hike in a nearby bird preserve and come upon an eagle’s nest in the distance. Knowing that eagles are nesting here somehow encourages me as I make this my home for the next few years while my sister is in high school.

I am grateful for challenge.
I’ve been learning to focus my adventurous spirit and lean into the challenges of solitude, specializing in a professional discipline, committing to family relationships, and growing in my gratitude for what life puts in front of me here in Indiana. The following quote by Wendell Berry has spoken to me strongly in this stage of my life:

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.

I continue to struggle with making decisions and staying committed with the ones I’ve made, but I am coming to see that a stream is strongest and deepest when it passes through boulders in its way.

This stage began during my time in Sitka, and I feel finally ready to close my Sitka, Simply blog and focus on being present to what life has for me in Bloomington. Thanks for reading with me along the way. I hope to hear more of how you are and what you are learning the next time we connect. Thanks for letting me share.

Peace be with you,
Eileen

Earth's First Sunrise, My First Polar Dip

48F, Light Rain
Sunrise: 4:30 AM
Sunset: 9:26 PM <--- Whoo hoo- So late! It's wonderful.

Greetings!

I write to you from the midst of May's glorious sunshine, soft wind, and the incredible sight of yellow and red tulips. The grey frozeness of Sitkan spring asked perserverance of our JV community up until Easter time. This past month I was personally shocked and delighted by summer weather.

For example, my first free and gorgeous Saturday (May 2nd), I pulled on shorts and tee over a swimsuit and hiked to a friends boat to gather a crew to hike Indian River and potentially jump in. After a side adventure of paddling out around the harbor in Shari's dinghy (picture the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker in there with us. Never was a type of boat so amusingly and aptly named!) and after a "Spirituality trek" with my Jesuit Volunteer community to pick up trash at the Gavan Hill trail head, a handful of us headed out to go jump in Indian River's enticingly clear glacial-fed river water.

The entire hike I could not get over the sensations of warmth and cold on my legs and arms-- the trail is largely under the shade of a beautiful old growth forest, but parts of the trail are exposed as it winds along Indian River. When the sun could stream down on us, the feeling of warmth was delicious. When the trail bent with the river such that the wind passed first over the cold water before passing over us, the air tempature was markedly colder. An intimidating omen to a hiker with hopes to jump into said river. I'm sure each of us had our reservations ranging from the practical (hrm. Am I going to enjoy my hike back all sopping wet?) to the philosophical (what is the sound of one JV gasping in freezing water?) Fortunately, as a group our enthusiasm was unabated, even when our original jumping in place turned out to have far to strong a current to jump in there. Would have been good set for a kayaking river rapids movie. Or a dumb-things-not-to-do movie. So we hiked further and found a super shallow and broad part of the river. The others proceeded to plop in one at a time, making various funny sounding noises as their bodies went into shock. Brea did an impressive doggy paddle, complete with startled barking noises growing louder the further she went. As for me, I watched everyone else try it out while I snacked on my trail mix. I was hungry. And experiencing what I would like to think of as a healthy dose of risk aversion. When people seemed to be surviving their polar dips, and Whitney seemed to be ambivalent about jumping in, I decided to not only jump in myself, but take her down with me. Its true that misery loves company. And I really couldn't imagine a better day to jump into an Alaskan river so it seemed that I might as well give it a go.
Words can't express the cold surprise that squeezes you when you jump into glacial-melt water. I think the insistant yelping noises that I made did a pretty good job at the time, but I'll just leave that to your imagination.
The biggest surprise for me came after I got out. (I only spent about 5 seconds in the water I think.) My body began to not only be covered in goosebumps, but I also felt waves of warmth all over. Apparently that's the usual immediate physical response that would have hypothetically helped me swim to safety had I needed to. Makes sense, and I sure did appreciate it!
Well, I was one of the last to jump in, and once was enough for me, so soon we were pulling back on our shorts, shirts, and shoes and hiked back to town. What a wonderful day that was. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to enjoy it so fully, and with such fun-loving people. Two of these friends are departing Sitka in the next week, and I will miss them dearly. Sitka is a city of many transitory jobs (Volunteers, Coast Guard, Tourism) and saying goodbye to wonderful people seems to be another Sitkan experience.
As many of my family and friends now know, I've decided to commit to another year of Sitkan life, with all the adventures and life-lessons that entails. I am tentative declaring this on a blog, as the details of how I'll support myself or where I'll live are yet to be made clear by the One in charge. I could write a whole blog entry about the fascinating lifestyle difference of living in a small town community alive with many creative, homespun, adventurous and generous people. But as I share life with my JV community mates, I also see that this place isn't wonderful because of what it is, it is wonderful because God is using this place as a setting for me to grow in the ways I can toward wholeness- in creativity and in awe of God's creation. This world is covered with such gardens for growth, Sitka is the garden (forest?) where I'm currently planted. And to extend this metaphor, maybe as my roots grow I'll find that I'm planted in a pot (Island?)and must be replanted to grow into my full potential. I'll keep you posted, for sure.
Today I am appreciating an e.e. cummings poem quoted by Fr. Jack, the founding father of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, in his spring letter to us JV's. In brackets I added my gender into the poem, as I identify with the open expectancy for growth and potential in the poem.

You find behind this [wo]man
Earth's first sunrise
And h[er]is voice is green
Like growing
(is marvelous
Like tomorrow.)

A House on Katlian

There is a house on winding Katlian that leans
silver-weathered wood walls into the rain.
It leans so far it breaths on you as you walk
by, breathing with the same weight of
gravity that curves an elder over her cane,
her mouth beside your ear.

When I walk by in the rain the elder spirit whispers
in Tlingit swishes and clicks
of neglect and other's ignor-
ance hanging over the village,
over this street like the mists
hiding Mt. Edgecumbe's height
across the harbor.

When you come to the bend of Katlian,
when the air is moist with rain:
over you,
beside you will be
this silver-weathered house
shining in its mist.

Listen.

Let your eyes stray past the harbor,
search for Edgecumbe's
snow-iced volcanic crater,
beautiful since before we knew time.


(Tlingit is the language of the Tlingit people, native to the Sitka area of Southeast Alaska. Katlian is the name of a Tlingit leader, and the name of the main street running through the area of Sitka that once was a Tlingit village.)

The Carribean of the Southeast

Yup, thats me above in the blue, a peace loving Jesuit volunteer on an Alaskan island beach beside four men with weapons. Why am I the only one smiling?There we go, thats more realistic.

:)

A few weekends ago we headed out for a day on the beach, Southeast style, boating out to the Chai Chi Islands (sp?). I couldn't get over the beautiful clear green-turquoise of the water. No one agreed with me that it looked like the carribean (" Um, maybe... but where are the palm trees, Eileen?") but this is my blog and I still found it remarkably carribean-esque, so there. Many thanks to my friend Aaron Routen for the amazing photography. All of the pictures are his!

Lumber... Jill?

President's Day weekend trip to Goddard hotsprings had me, Andrew, Meg and Brian in our bathing suits in Alaskan winter, breaking through ice in our skiff to get to our cabin at sevenfathom bay, and learning how to chop wood. Abraham Lincoln was a favorite president of many-- I highly recommend chopping wood to commemorate Presidents Day.

Favorite moments from our trip include feeling like a moonwalker in our "Mustang Suit" life preservers and eating mandarin oranges with homemade chopsticks made from cedar kindling. Thanks, Brian, for taking us out!

Hope is the thing with feathers (or snowshoes)

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickinson, the poem above spoke to me this mid-March morning. The past month has been icy gray and this morning we awoke to inches of fluffy fresh snow. For those of us ready for spring, it may feel like two steps forward and one step back, but its so beautiful it must be appreciated for what it is.

Walking through a hum
of fresh fallen snow,
I am 6 years old again.
my puffy coat dwarfs me

as my mammoth mittens trail

I wonder at the whiteness

of the winter world.

~ Eileen
My own poem from this morning :)



Above, Andrew takes a moment after snowshoeing to switch his socks-- and to do yoga (tree pose-- how appropriate in the forest. Good job Andrew ;).

Snow has been a wonderful gift, a source of true playful goodness this winter. The beginning and end of this blog are some pictures from a snowshoeing trip up Gavan Hill at the very beginning of January. I apologize that all these posts and pictures come at once: our JV house committed to not having the internet at home for 2009, which limits posting time to... right now when I'm using wireless at the house I'm dog sitting at. But I hope you enjoy all these posts, even as tardy as they come! Thanks also to Emily Buck, for generously sharing her snowshoes, snowshoeing expertise, and pictures. Not pictured: the 2009 World Championship Snowshoe-Sumo Wrestling Competition. (make a ring in the snow, put two people in, and the one who wrestles the other out of the ring first wins.) Maybe next year we'll catch it on film. :)

Simply Delicious

Winter has been a time for me to come to more appreciate the art of cooking. Here at three culinary highlights from January: Homemade pretzels, homemade sushi, and Amish friendship bread.

Homemade Pretzels

Yields: 20 servings
Ingredients
2 tablespoons warm water, plus 1 1/3 cups warm water
1 package dry yeast
1/3 cup brown sugar
5 cups flour
1/2 cup baking soda
Kosher salt
Mustard, as an accompaniment (mix with honey for honey mustard!)

Directions
In a large mixing bowl, mix 2 tablespoons warm water with the yeast to dissolve it. Then stir in the remaining warm water and brown sugar. Place bowl on a mixer and using a dough hook, gradually add the flour and continue mixing until it forms a ball. Turn it out onto a work surface and knead the dough to make it smooth. Use enough flour on your work surface so the dough is not sticky.
Preheat oven to 475 degrees F.
Butter 2 sheet pans. Bring 2 quarts of water and the baking soda to boil in a large saucepan. Cut dough up into golf ball size pieces. Then roll them into 1/2-inch thick worms. Form a U then cross the ends, twisting at the middle. Fold the ends back down to meet the U (which is now an O) and press to secure the dough. Drop it into the boiling water for 30 seconds then fish it out and place it on the greased sheet pan. Sprinkle with kosher salt. Repeat with the rest of the dough. Bake for 8 minutes or until golden brown.

We made homemade pretzels for a community night during Sarah Kinsel's visit. She is the JVC Area Director for all of Alaska, and this was her second and last trip to Sitka during our JV year here. It felt weird at the time to be experiencing our first "last" as a community. This year has been full of so many firsts!

SUSHI!!!!!
Whats the best way to make sushi? Invite over a bunch of friends who have sushi mats, make lots of sticky rice, chop up yummy sushi fixins, and let everyone make their own :) At our first sushi party, our friend Arlo from Katzebue brought the fine delicacy of muktuk (whale blubber) for us to try. Its an acquired taste...

Another January past time was making lots and lots of Amish friendship bread. This is a bread with a starter that quadruples itself (to share with your friends) every 13 days... so it kept me on my toes trying to feed and find homes for it and its many offspring until I realized I could just put it to rest in one last giant loaf :)