Brook
“Rainy Day”
(Source: 8tracks.com)
September 16, 2011
September 15, 2011
Dave
“Rainy Day”
It started to rain. The mist and water turned everything deep gray and green with scattered hints of red and brown, heralding the coming of Fall. I pulled one of my favorite sweaters over me, slid into my headphones, put on one of my favorite rainy day albums, grabbed my camera, and headed out into some of my favorite weather. I went to one of my favorite paths and walked among the dripping ivy and leaves and rooftops. I snapped photo after photo, unsatisfied. I felt the water start to creep through my shoes and soak my feet, a sure sign of a rainy day.
September 9, 2011
Name: Dave
Age: 21
Location: Winona Lake, Indiana
Occupation: Biblical Studies Student
List:
- Flannel shirts that used to belong to my dad (practical and sentimental).
- Folder containing letters, cards, notes, and official documents (spiritual, practical, and sentimental).
- Laptop and its charger (practical).
- iPhone and its charger (practical).
- Money clip (practical).
- Bible (spiritual and practical).
- Journals past and present (spiritual, practical, and sentimental).
- Anthology of Prayers for Public Worship from 1908 (spiritual, and sentimental).
- Mug and tea strainer (practical and sentimental).
September 8, 2011
Name: Brook
Age: 21
Location: Winona Lake, Indiana
Occupation: Graphic Design Student
Website: nothanksihaveabike.tumblr.com
List:
- Box filled with letters, notes, and other saved things (to remind me I am loved).
- Headphones and iPod (to keep my mind calm).
- Journals - past and present - (to remind me where I’ve been).
- Bible( to remind me of what I need).
- Laptop (to save my photos).
- Quilt made by my great-grandmother, passed to my grandmother, and then to me, (to keep me warm).
- My keys (to remind me not all is lost).
- My wallet (to be practical).
- Film camera (to remind me of what is tangible).
- The very camera and lens I used to take this photo (to keep living life).
June 30, 2011
Brook
“Under My Nose”
My anxiety has shifted and I’ve settled into thankfulness. Not so many days ago, I felt incredibly purposeless and in my frustration cried out to my God to show me what I’m doing here. Because I had turned down the safe and steady place to come here, not a decision made lightly. There was much prayer and much peace in the choosing. Now, a month and a half later, all that I had hoped for, and what I had planned for, is ever-absent.
And believe me, I’ve brooded over the loss of these things.
Meanwhile, a rich and full life was passing right under my nose. So, my days have shifted. I spend a little more time drinking coffee at the kitchen table, enjoying the flowers that Missy found in the neighbors yard. I’m finishing projects that I’ve wanted to do for too long. My prayers are growing richer and my heart is growing deeper as I revel in meaningful conversations. All this as I fight against restlessness and seek to learn faithfulness in what I’ve been given.
June 28, 2011
Dave
“Under My Nose”
I enjoy cooking. Well, more specifically, I enjoy baking. There is less left to chance or my own intuition with baking. One of the things that I find really cool about baking is the transformation I get to witness. What enters the oven as a sloppy mess of dough or batter comes out as a loaf of bread, or a cake, or a scone. And what’s really crazy is that if one thing were different in the creation of that sloppy mess that is ready to go into the oven, one ingredient left out, the thing coming out would totally different.
I took a photo of some scones that I made for my small group last week. The reason I chose to take a photo of these is that I made them with ingredients that already had on hand, under my nose. It’s easy to overlook what is right in front of us. It’s easy to forget that every unnoticed thing happening right under our nose is an ingredient being added, preparing to make us into what we will be. And it’s just as easy to forget what ingredients we already have sitting on our shelves, waiting to be utilized, waiting to become part of something beautiful, something delicious.
June 13, 2011
In the fever of summer, schedules have flown out the window. Consistency is harder than ever, but we’re going to give it a go this week. “Under My Nose” is the theme on which we’ll be focusing and we hope to have some interesting photos to share on Thursday.
So please, forgive us and check back then. Dave will probably tie your shoelaces for a year if you do.
Brook & Dave
June 4, 2011
Dave
“Growing”
This is a photo of the bearing from the pottery wheel that my brother and I built together last summer. It sits in the work room, which I’ve turned into a makeshift pottery studio. I now have a shiny new electric wheel in that room, but this nasty, rusty, clay and grease caked bearing is a little piece of that old wheel, which eventually broke down and stopped working, and it’s a piece of last summer.
I’m different than I was then. I’ve grown, in a lot of ways. Grown up, grown tired, grown out of, grown into. And if you’ll allow me to use the metaphor, there are nasty, rusty, clay and grease caked bearings left sitting within me. Expectations not met, desires not fulfilled, goals not accomplished, memories left hanging. And like the bearing from the old kick wheel, they can either be reminders of how I’ve failed or how I’ve grown. I could look at this rusty old bearing and think of how if I had made the splash pan on the kick wheel the right way, water would have never dripped down the pipe and soaked the bearing. Or if I had never accidentally dropped the bearing, the casing on it would never have bent and water wouldn’t have gotten inside of it, making it harder to spin, and the kick wheel might still be in working order.
I could think that way about the bearing, both the literal and the figurative, but I don’t. Instead, these pieces left sitting are evidences of growth. That bearing served its purpose, and even though it got messy in the process I would not be where I am as a potter without it. In the same way, this last year has left its mark and rust on me, but these marks are reminders to me of where I’ve been and where I am, and how I would not be where I am without without where I’ve been.
May 20, 2011
Brook
“Growing”
“A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking, Hman, as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing”
First week of summer break always means unpacking all that has been stuffed in my mind. I didn’t really know that I needed this until I was here and not there and it was good . I’ve been soaking in the mornings that lead to days of kitchen tables, new neighborhoods, bike rides, guitar strings, baking, wicker chairs, people, and solitude. I’ve been reading too; Out of the Silent Planet. That’s from where this quote came. These past few weeks nostalgia has come on hard and I get sad longing for moments that are passed. I am sad as if I am no longer able to experience them, but in our memories, experiences simmer and soak while growing into something that could have never been if it weren’t for the very act of reminiscing. Though perhaps I will, from time to time, get a little sad missing the-way-things-were in moments that are so very unmemorable, right now this urges me to indulge in the act of remembering just to see what grows.
May 13, 2011
Dave
“Familiar”
This is a pretty familiar scene for me these days, sitting in the Bakafe with a cup of good coffee. I love walking in and wondering which language Chris will use to greet me this time, as he wipes up behind the counter, always wearing that white apron. Lately it’s been Hebrew, ever since I taught him a few of the greetings I know.
“Yom Tov” (“good day”).
“Shabbat Shalom” (which is what you say if it’s the Sabbath, although Chris rarely says it when it’s actually Shabbat)
“Shalom”
I love that it became an understood fact that on Sunday, after church, after lunch, we would all walk down to the Bakafe and do homework all afternoon. I love that I can always expect to see the same few people down there. I love that I notice when they get a new kind of coffee bean.
I love the good things that become common and familiar. Sure they might become cliche and predictable, like a photo of a cup of coffee, but I think it’s these things that I’ll remember most about this stage of life. I fully expect to look back wistfully on the common, everyday things more than the big spontaneous crazy things. The familiar things, and more importantly, the familiar people, bring a sense of comfort and belonging. They are warm and rejuvenating, like a hot cup of good coffee.
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