Hutchmoot

What is Hutchmoot?
If you like art (in the broad sense of the term) and creating, then this Hutchmoot thing has probably grabbed your attention. And if, after visiting the site and watching the video, you still find yourself asking the question, what is Hutchmoot?, I want you to be assured, you are not alone. Most Hutchmoot attendees have asked it themselves. I was asking that question up until the day after I left Hutchmoot.
So, if your ear's been pricked and you want to know what it's like to be at Hutchmoot, I'll tell you. Being there has a certain atmosphere about it, an ambiance, as if creativity were a thing that you could touch. It fills the air like a thick morning fog...

Syke.

Interim

Thank you for bearing with me while I've been...not necessarily gathering my thoughts; rather, gathering my brain. To be honest, I can't remember being so tired for such a long time. Mental and emotional exhaustion have drawn me to bed and to mindless TV-watching instead of writing. And although NBC's The Voice is entertaining and instructional for me as a secretly-aspiring singer(shh--did I say that?), it's not a replacement for the accomplished feeling of having successfully communicated thoughts that have rattled around my head, looking for the escape route marked by the red 'EXIT' sign.

With my first Hutchmoot experience under my belt, I feel as though I must push through the fatigue and crank out something--anything. At the same time, I dont want it to be just anything. I want it to be quality. Well, I suppose it will have to be whatever I have in me.

Tonight, that's this: telling you that my summary of what Hutchmoot was for me will be coming soon. A lot happened. In me. A lot that I'm not sure I fully understand yet. I did a lot of searching, listening, questioning, praying, and watching...

So bear with me, if you will, just a bit longer. I'm slow in this writing and learning-to-write process, but it's coming. soon.

Cultivating Contagious Creativity

Recently, a friend of mine began a life-coaching job. She is training for it and needed to practice on some people she knows, so she asked me. I was thrilled--any chance I get to brainstorm with someone else, I'll take it. She showed me some questions that she'd give her clients to help them prepare for the coaching session, and I was hooked. Questions like "what gifts do you have that you'd like to make available to the world?" and "When in your life did you feel most creative?" sucked me in like quicksand.

Where, in all the world, IS God?

"I’ve curled up in bed, pulled the covers over my head, and tried to pray to a God I felt I’d left behind on another continent." -Shaun Groves, in a blog on the vast experiences of re-entry.

A couple months ago, my eyes read those words then almost began the next sentence; but didn't. After one second of ingesting that statement, I began to sob. But not the kind where you're wailing loudly for the neighbors to hear. It was a silent sob--where you exhale strongly and seem to be caught there for 10 seconds, as the tears flood your eyes. You hyperventilate, choking on air as your chest jolts a few times. tears stream down your face. I continued in this state for a good 5 minutes, intensely whispering, where are you God?? Jesus, I need you! Where are you?? 

Foster Belonging

By the end of my first day working in Foster Care, I found myself staring at my notes, straining to remember the details of my next tasks. I had spent 5 hours in court for two of my cases, about which I knew minimal information. It made me thankful for God's grace, and the purpose He gives to these tasks. Foster care is definitely a deeply impactful work and I pray that God continues to sustain me to carry it out so that families may be strengthened. So, needless to say, I have a lot of respect for people who have done this job for years.

Now I've been at my job for 4 weeks and I'm beginning to understand some things that were mysteries at first. Still, I know there is so much to learn. I am constantly asking other people for the answers to questions that I don't know. Some days I just look down at my papers and think "what am I supposed to do next?" I am thinking that 80% of the job is learning to ask the right questions--at homes, with clients, everywhere. The other 20% is a mixture of time management/prioritizing skills. Above these things, I am praying for compassion with discernment to cover it all.

Speaking of compassion, as I sat here typing these words, I heard a song I haven't heard for probably years. It's by Chris Rice, a thoughtful lyricist. The words hit me this time, not in relation to myself, but to the children I see each day in foster care. Their world is quite different than mine has ever been. Their path may be long and hard, but I pray they hear this song being sung over them.

So this drives me to a question--how can we foster a sense of belonging in children's lives, regardless of where they live?

Belong

Fading memories ignored, I crawl across the forest floor.
Pool reflects an orphan child; dirty, lost, alone and wild.
Fatherless and nameless still, fallen heart and broken will
there ever be a place where I belong?

I cower 'neath the monster trees, and try to stand on tired feet.
But gravity knocks me to the ground, where I give up and tears roll down.
I claw the dust and beg the end, and curse the day that I began
to hope there'd be a place where I'd belong.

I hear a sound I recognize. You lift my chin and seek my eyes.
Song of Love you sing to me; I ache to sing it back to thee.
Father Love prepares a place, and brother Jesus leads the way.
Follow to the place where you belong.

How did I miss this wondrous song? The forest sang it all along:
"River rinses all your shame, and Father offers you his name.
Father Love prepares a home, brother Jesus leads you on.
Follow to the place where you belong.

Father Love prepares a place; brother Jesus leads the way--
Follow to the place where you belong.
Follow to the place where you belong."