smile because it happened

Immense doesn't begin to describe the range of emotions I've felt over the past few days. After completing one of the toughest, yet most formational experiences of my life and leaving a city that has become home and friends that have become family, I'm emotionally exhausted.

Me and the roomies at Coney Island

Bittersweet doesn't really capture my mood either--there isn't much sweet about it.

But at a time like this, a familiar saying comes to mind: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." 

I've been smiling a lot recently.

There's the ear-to-ear smile brought about by uncontrollable laughter and sheer exuberation.

There's also the teary-eyed kind that, despite the look of it, comes from a deep sense of satisfaction and profound accomplishment.

Best team ever. No question.

And of course there's the kind of smile that I've found myself wearing most often in recent weeks. It's almost a one-sided grin with a sparkle in the eyes. It's the one belonging to someone who knows something that you don't. Someone who's completely content and supremely at peace. Someone whose thoughts and experiences can't quite be put into words or onto paper, but whose memories are rich. Memories which won't fade.

The memories are all I could ask for. I smile.

from heartbreak to hope

A week ago, today, a tragic event shook the school where I work and the community where I live. One of our 5th graders named Joel took his own life. You can read the story here. 

I was in the room with the other 5th graders when our principal broke the sad news. I watched them wipe their tears and write goodbye letters to their friend Joel. I didn't know him well, but all signs say he was a smiley, happy kid, as any 5th grader should be.

Our school community is still figuring out how to cope with this awful situation and it has stirred my pensive mind. Was there more I could have done? Are there more Joels out there that I can reach?

It's hard for me to imagine what drives a 12-year-old to believe that no life at all is better than the one they have, but I suspect that it starts with one little misfortune, frustration, or bad day--then another and another.

My heart grieves thinking about this, but I know that the opposite is true, too: it takes just one smile, one high five, or one short conversation to give someone hope.

Through Joel's tragedy, hope is blossoming.

In the past week I've cherished my time more, held my students a little tighter, and reached deep to find energy when I thought I had given all I had.

In the past week I've seen a community come together and support each other the way that it should.

And in the past week I've seen students rethink the ramifications of what seems like innocent bullying--a conversation that I pray will continue.

A Coldplay lyric comes to my mind at a time like this: "Every siren is a symphony and every tear's a waterfall."  

We're all connected. Our pain is collective and our burdens are shared. We have the capacity to affect each other in ways we don't realize. We can choose to tear each other down or we can decide to build one another up. God, help us choose the latter. Let us see the divine in each person we pass. Let us see each other as brothers and sisters.

trayvon martin is why i go to church

Yesterday afternoon, as I was opening the refrigerator to find something to drink, my roommate Esteban abruptly asked me, "Nate, why do you go to church?" Hmm...bit of a strange question, I thought to myself as I searched for an answer and a bottle of water.

"Well, I guess it's because it helps me stay focused on my faith," I responded half-heartedly. Growing up in the Bible Belt, I learned from an early age how to respond to theologically-complex conundrums like the trinity or original sin, but this simple query caught me on my heels.

Why do I go to church? I began to ponder.

This morning I went to Metro Hope Church, here in my neighborhood, East Harlem. Most people in the congregation were wearing hoodies in support of Trayvon Martin, the black teen who was gunned down last month while walking home from his friend's house in a gated community in Florida. Trayvon's killer was never arrested and currently faces no charges (as of February, 2012; Zimmerman was later arrested).

Wearing our hoodies, we had a time of prayer and reflection. We asked God for justice, healing, and reconciliation. We confessed our shortcomings and prayed that God would remove our deep-seated prejudices. We prayed that the church (the followers of Jesus) would be the institution that leads the charge in confronting racism and hatred.

In that moment I was reminded of why I go to church.

We live in a broken world, marred by unclean hands and hearts. The sad truth is that the natural human tendency is to hurt rather than to help. The injustices we see in our neighborhoods and in our homes are a result of that flaw. I believe that God's love is the answer--the only force strong enough to overcome human hatred.

As long as there is hatred in the world, I want to be on the side of love. As long as there are hurting people in my neighborhood, I want to be a part of the cure. Trayvon Martin is why I go to church. Injustice is why I go to church. I go to church because, when my own love runs empty, it's the only place where I can be refilled with an abundant source of life-giving, world-changing love.

MLK Day: leave a legacy of service

This is an op-ed I was asked to write for City Year's upcoming MLK Day of service. These opinions are mine and not necessarily affiliated with City Year.
 
“Everybody can be great because everybody can serve.” I doubt this is the first time you’ve read these famous words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and I know I’m not the first service-based non-profit volunteer to quote the revered activist whose life we commemorate on Monday, January 16th.

But even if King’s words have been belabored to the point of redundancy, we can never overemphasize his simple message: service equals greatness. This is why I choose to spend MLK Day by serving in East Harlem with City Year New York.

As a tutor and mentor at PS/MS 57 in East Harlem, I often find myself telling the students I work with that they can do something great with their lives. That’s not just something I say lightly; these kids are truly special.

Jalen is one of the fifth graders in our after school program. He is a great athlete. Sometimes at recess we play basketball together and of course I have to let his classmates score on me every once in a while. But when it’s just me against Jalen, there are no deliberate bricks; I try my hardest and he still beats me.

Tony is another of the gifted students I work with. He has a great mind. When his fourth grade class was studying haikus, most other kids were stuck counting syllables on their fingers while Tony was analyzing the poet’s word choice and conceptualizing ideas like tone and metaphor.

But regardless of athleticism or intellect, I know that every one of my students has the potential to achieve greatness because they each have the ability to serve.

Dr. King, however, would be the first to tell you that true service involves more than just ability; it requires a “heart full of grace,” as he put it, and a “soul generated by love.” When we’re able to serve others with no personal agenda, we are exhibiting the truest sense of love and what it means to be human.

Unfortunately, it’s harder to teach a fourth grader “a heart full of grace” than it is multiplication tables. And “a soul generated by love” doesn’t come as easily to middle school students as does subject-verb agreement. But if there’s one lesson I hope to teach—or better yet, to learn—during my year of service with City Year, it’s that being a servant is the greatest thing you can ever do.

Exactly two months before his death, Martin Luther King concluded his famous Drum Major Instinct speech by envisioning the eulogy at his own funeral:

[Don’t] mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school [or] that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to give his life serving others.

January 16th, 2012 is your chance to carry on King’s legacy of service and to begin your own. For many, MLK Day has become “a day on, not a day off.” City Year New York, alongside community volunteers and corporate sponsors, will spend the day building bookshelves, constructing planter boxes, and painting murals for several East Harlem schools and organizations.

Indeed it’s true: everybody can be great because everybody can serve. But we don’t do service because we want to be considered great; service is never a selfish thing. We don’t do service just to bolster our resumes or to be quoted in newspapers. We serve because it’s what makes us human.

the 8,401st day of my life

I recently heard someone say, "I count the days because I want to make them count."

Today (January 3rd, 2012) is the 8,401st day of my life. I sit here with my fingers resting on the keyboard and wonder to myself if those 8,401 days have really counted for much. If I'm perfectly honest with myself, I know that many of those days could have been a lot more productive. 

The older I get, the more I realize the value of time. Until now, I never fully understood the old saying "there just isn't enough time in the day." In fact, I think time is more valuable than money, and being the frugal person that I am, I wonder what my days could look like if I spent my time as carefully as I did my money. Even with a job that requires 50+ hours a week, I know there are ways I can be more efficient with my time.

Knowing that this is the 8,401st day of my life, you could (assuming you had the time, an understanding of some basic math, and the knowledge that I was born the year after a leap year) conclude that today is my birthday. With my date of birth falling so close to New Years, my resolution has special significance because what I do in 2012 will also be what characterizes me as a 23-year-old.

3rd Avenue from my rooftop.

In this, my 24th year of life, I want to be able to slow down and enjoy more of life's simple pleasures. For me that means coffee, sunsets, reading, writing, playing guitar, good conversations with friends. I want 2012 to count, so for the next 363 days I'm going to be more intentional about how I spend my most precious commodity: time.