*Hope is Not the Belief that Tomorrow Will Be Better...

I'm entirely clueless about the direction this blog is about to take, however, I'm feeling especially inspired and I can't allow these few-and-far-between instances slip away without some sort of commentary. My story starts last night at Wilmington College's 'Goodies for Goblins'. As the little kiddies stumbled into the cafeteria in their array of ladybug, superhero and fairy disguises, I was donning one of my own. Yes, I was Kaity the Carrot (complete with orange felt carrot suit and a green leaf trucker hat to complete the ensemble, no less) contemplating how on earth I got to this point in taking a position with my AmeriCorps service site.

At the conclusion of my undergraduate career, I contemplated a number of AmeriCorps positions (after having given up the job search after 50+ rejections) and ultimately decided to give Wilmington, Ohio a shot. The program was called Grow Food Grow Hope and my future-supervisors sold me on the idea of working on a community-level to promote sustainable agriculture and access to nutritious food in a town where poverty was rampant. Being an advocate of a complete renovation of our country's food system as well as an idealist in the hope of one day having some kind of positive effect on the issues of global food insecurity, this seemed the perfect stepping stone on my way to single-handedly tackling world hunger (Did I mention I'm an idealist?)

Four months later, the growing season has come to a close and my days are subsequently longer and less activity-filled. The disillusionment has also started to set in and there's an evil little voice in the back of my mind uttering "Are you really doing anything at all to combat poverty and hunger?", "Will this program even still exist a couple years from now?" and "Is anyone truly gaining anything out of my work?" Enter Michael Snarr: Professor of Social and Political Studies at Wilmington College While we had never been formally introduced prior to last night, we were both on each other's radars. Me, because I was a political science major at Eastern and he, because well, he was the professor of social and political studies! He approached me (while in my Carrot garb) and invited me to sit in on his class in which Bart Campolo would be speaking regarding sustainable solutions to alleviating poverty in Haiti.

Fast forward to today. I think Snarr's class got a little bit more than they bargained for inviting a Campolo to come speak. I'd like to think I've been slightly conditioned and know how to respond to wacky, radical evangelicals being an Eastern alum, but his message was no less powerful. If I had to pinpoint the overarching theme of his presenation, I honestly don't know that I'd be able to. However, as I approached him after the class to thank him for inadvertantly encouraging me to continue my efforts in creating a local, sustainable system of food production in light of the economic and environmental degradation going on all around us, he spoke the most beautiful and truthful words I've heard in a long time. I told him how much I cared about my project, but was in need of encouragement to help regain sight of why my work was significant. In response, he passed along this little gem- "Hope is not the belief that tomorrow will be better. Hope is the conviction that what you're doing now is of importance."

Thanks to Bart Campolo, I received a much-needed refresher course on why my work with Grow Food Grow Hope is so important and why I need to continue my efforts in promoting and working toward sustainable solutions to the problem of global poverty. My work has only just begun :)

Impatiently Awaiting my Significance

In the words of my BFNSCF, “Good blog-spiration comes so rarely that it has been nearly torturous having all these things to say and not being able to.” A lot has happened in my life in the last few months, and somehow, despite my vast love for the blogosphere I haven’t made it a point to write. I suppose some serious psychoanalyzing will have to occur to figure out why that is.

In the midst of so much life-changing and post-grad adventure, I think it has something to do with the fact that my life feels so trivial. A couple weeks ago I was organizing my new apartment (hooray!) and happened upon my folder of essays and assignments from my semester in Uganda. Reading through them I was astonished that it was in fact, I, who had written them. Not because I feel like I’ve grown so much since then. But because I feel like I have, in actuality, reverted from the enlightened and intellectual young woman writing about the damaging effects of foreign aid in Africa and paralleling Jack Kerouac’s style in my creative writing class. The young woman whose innermost thoughts I was reading was so far superior to me in every way I shrank in disappointment with myself.

What is even more startling is the fact that I’m not unhappy where I am! I live in a cute little Midwestern town with its own assortment of characters; many of whom I’m blessed to call my friends. My job is exactly what I signed up for and I’m so grateful to have learned as much as I have thus far ad have the autonomy that I have in my position (something not many entry-level workers can claim). And yet, I’m not the same American student at Uganda Christian University that I was over a year ago. Where is my connection with the Creator of the universe? Where is that astounding insight into my character and the characters of others? Where is my sense of significant purpose in this world?

Perhaps it can easily be summed up by the disillusionment that often accompanies the months after ending your undergraduate career. I’m not at all unique in this sort of quarter-life crisis. Or perhaps I should just own up to the fact that I have a redundantly restless spirit combined with a “grass is greener” complex. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’ve been kidding myself all this time in thinking I know what I want to do with my life. More than anything, I have to believe that I’ve been destined for great purpose on this earth. Right now, I’m like a petulant child, wanting my time of significance and change to arrive, without paying my dues.

Regardless, I know that I have to keep blogging. And yes, I’m well aware of how gosh-darn corny that sounds. But writing has always been my personal introspective magnifying glass and I have to believe that if I continue these brief glimpses of enlightenment into my own character, maybe, just maybe, I can discover who it is I am today, and who I’m destined to be.