The Lees are Moving!

To our friends and family!

Luke and I are so excited to finally be able to announce that we are in fact moving in exactly  two & a half weeks from today! And we figured this would be the best way to get the word out to our larger community so that we could share in detail what the next chapter holds for us!

The Where: directly one house behind ours. The Why: to become Community Coordinators for a Community Renewal Friendship House!

Friendship Houses and the Yellow House are both initiatives of Community Renewal International (the faith based nonprofit that I work for here in Shreveport). The Yellow House of course is our intentional community for young adults. And our Friendship Houses are community houses guised as homes set within the context of an at-risk neighborhood (low income, high crime rate). CRI has ten Friendship Houses in the Shreveport/Bossier area. And here, they move a family into these homes, into these neighborhoods, much like a missionary family. One person in the couple then becomes the Community Coordinator for that area (either over a youth house or a kids house).  Our Friendship Houses provided our afterschool program (called Club), morning GED/life skills classes, neighborhood connection events, college prep opportunities, tutoring, meals, camps & activities, healthy living and urban gardening opportunities, etc. And within the neighborhoods where we have moved, our crime stats show a drop of 45-75% in annual crime, and the evident fruit of connected people to one another. The Friendship House’s goal (as it is that of CRI) is to rebuild the foundation of relationships among our neighborhoods, knowing that out of that foundation, the rebuilding of society occurs. This is how we’ve seen the Good News played out so evidently.

The Highland Youth Friendship house was where the Yellow House first got our foot in the door with Community Renewal prior to officially coming on board as a part of their organization last June.  Their Community Coordinator at the time had invited us to visit early on after our move; and it did not take us long to realize that we were not interested in reinventing the wheel that CRI had already so faithfully been doing in Highland for years. So we offered, “We know our age group, and you know the neighborhood. So if this can be mutually enhancing, let’s not do this thing separately.” And then after about 6 months of walking together following that first conversation, we became CRI’s young adult initiative.

When that Community Coordinator’s parents became very ill last fall and the Friendship House’s activities had to be postponed for a bit until things could be figured out, Luke and I began to notice what gap that place actually filled in our neighborhood as kids started showing up on our porch more and more for snacks or things to occupy their time. So in January of this year, I offered to begin opening Club twice a week to help alleviate some of that need.

It was the day before Club even reopened ( when I was picking up the keys to the FH) that I felt the Holy Spirit saying that Luke and I would be putting our “yes” on the table for moving into the house this coming summer and taking on the job of Community Coordinator. This was a difficult pill to swallow because we did not know how the Yellow House and my current job as its Coordinator would fit into this equation, and it was a big suggestion to bring to Luke especially since he and I were pretty partial to our first home that we havee not yet been in for a year.  

But it quickly became apparent to both us and our family at Community Renewal that this was what was next, that the Yellow House’s internship would only compliment and support the Highland Friendship House (and in fact, Club would give a daily place for the interns to serve/grow relationships in the neighborhood), and that Luke and I were excited to be choosing this next step together. So CRI hired Sarah Duet as our new Intern Director to help carry the load of the new model, and we began shifting gears towards this change.  

So, that is the move we are about to make. Luke and I will be lugging our boxes to the beautiful, cloud-grey home directly behind our current one at the end of May. We will be renting our house out to some friends of ours and embarking on a new level of what it means to relocate for the sake of renewal. And as we dive into this next year (and especially this next month) of change and trial, we ask for your prayers to go ahead of us!

We also invite you to consider partnering with us, as so many do with our Friendship Houses. Relationship-wise, money-wise, supply-wise, volunteer-wise…the opportunities are countless.

And last but not least, we are putting out a “House Warming” gift list that focuses on needs of the Friendship House’s Club which will kick off again this coming August! Those items are directly below this letter. If you or someone you know would like to donate something for an in-kind tax write off towards this “House Warming” list, please email me at britneywinnlee@gmail.com.

We’re ridiculously grateful for all your hands in our lives that have laid the bricks to the path we’re walking towards next. We love you, and because we’re so thankful for you, we wanted to update you on the process!

Onward to box-packing,

The Lees

Friendship House “House Warming” Gift List

·         2-3 New Computers (laptop or desktop, compact enough to fit on a thin computer bar)

·         2 Flat screen TVS (one for ongoing Friendship House slide show & one for a game room)

·         Wii system, controllers, and games

·         3-4 new bean bags

·         Hobby Lobby gift certificates for craft supplies

·         Wal-Mart gift certificates for office/school supplies & general Club supplies

·         Sod donation for a small backyard space

·         Basketballs & pumps

·         New or gently used sofa/loveseat set

Glowing Coils

I’m sitting in the kitchen of our intentional community house, wavering between the thought that I’m either very cozy in this moment or a little uncomfortable. I suppose I’m only as uncomfortable as anyone is when they’re sitting in the middle of a big open room, lit by fluorescent lighting, by themselves, square in front of the only space heater that’s straining to do it’s purpose on a semi-cold night. Hm. I’ll come back to that.

It’s been 4 months since we moved into the Yellow House of Highland. And I am falling in love with this place that can’t help but ooze story. And how could it not? Our old wooden stairs, once trodden upon by 27 half-way house men as the residents before us, work sufficiently as our security system. They also make us feel like dinosaurs every time we trample down their noisy wooden structure. The house, Monday through Saturday keeps a fading scent of cookies and soup, reminding us that 30-40 young adults are crossing paths in these halls on Sunday nights for family dinner. Our toilet seats are made of ice. At least they feel that way as Louisiana gets a bit cooler and our Central Air and Heat gets a bit more nonexistent. And there’s a metal fork sticking out of the window unit in the kitchen. It’s been there for a while, but I’ve never thought to ask why. I assume it has a purpose. But that is probably an unfair assumption.

I feel like we have gotten to, as a community, learn some of the most uncomfortable lessons over the past couple of months. What a baby must feel like when it’s ready to not crawl anymore. “Were my legs made for something else? And if so…how do I start this process?” There is something in a parent that trusts that there is something innately planted inside of a tiny human that will bring them to walk when it is time.

We have had to be humbled and questioned and reminded in our growing that there is a Spirit at work within us. And He will bring our legs to straighten when we are ready.

Within those questions, the Yellow House has had to do a lot of soul searching. Personal soul searching. Ministerial soul searching. Who are we? And what would God have us do? As result, we have hammered out hours of conversations, many of which we’ve left absolutely exhausted.

Are our lives too busy with work or school or work and school to be opening a home for a community house? And what is its purpose? And are we living out that purpose? Is there time? If there is, does it even line up to what we felt led to in the first place? When we sat around lonely and separated all across town wondering why we weren’t doing life together and being inspired by something found somewhere in scripture? What was that again? Should I go see a counselor? Should I quit half my job? Simplicity’s encouraged, right? Should you quit school or move out? Should you go see a counselor? What are the needs and how are we meeting them? And who is going to initiate these 32 ideas of how to bring together the young adults of our city, love on them, grow with them, and walk with them into fuller, freer, restorative life? Should we all go see counselors?

That last question, of course, is typically “yes.”

But God has begun to answer. And our paths began to cross with the giants whose shoulders we’ve been dying to stand upon. And before we knew it, Mack McCarter (founder of Community Renewal International) was sitting in our living room one Tuesday night sharing with us his decades-long vision of restoration for human life through uniting people committed to caring for one another. Committed to intentionality. He showed us his “village structure,” the model that Community Renewal imbeds its roots within, which he says has no copyright but the Book of Acts, and he taught us. Teachings that I will never be able to repeat so eloquently, but that I know have changed my life.

Soon after that, the Yellow House Model began to be hammered out. Not to institutionalize the organic, but to give us something to step up to. That model was entirely inspired by “the village structure,” in its expression of our understanding that this holistic community will rise to its efforts of “uniting and equipping young adults, that together we may take part in the intentional, relational, and creative restoration of the Kingdom” by spending ourselves on behalf of these nine things: learning together, healing together, leading together, worshiping together, partnering together, creating together, working together, sharing together, and dwelling together. Because we have waged battle against turf war and realized that celebration lies at the end of a fight that is no more “yours” than “mine.” Division is our common enemy’s missile, and we know better.

So with that “model,” we now have reason through which we filter the ways we choose to love others. We share together by committing that what is in this house is not my own any more than my life is. We, along with our stuff, belong to someone else therefore we attempt to put our agendas, our possessions, and our grumbling aside. Or at least second to the souls of those who walk through our doors. We heal together by setting up a relational tithe fund that people have started giving extra cash to so that when one of our brothers or sisters without health insurance needs to go to Quick Care or fill a prescription, we can cover that. We also heal together by committing to confession that is sure to be welcomed by grace and truth. We are loved, we are not alone, and we are not stuck. We partner together by recognizing that there are people out there who are doing what we want to be a part of…yes…better than we know how to do. So we go to them! We learn from them! We read the books that have been written by people living in communal houses. We join with The Hub in our inner-city to serve the homeless that they are already in relationship with. We cross town to worship at 318LIVE because the Spirit in us has already been there growing a young adult worship crowd for the past few years now. We go through Community Renewals training and ask them about the widow that lives at the end of Gilbert or the single mom who lives two blocks behind us.

I have, at very most, 100 years to add to the beauty of this world. I do not want to spend half of it reinventing what someone has already done better.

We learn together by having Thursday night teachings, where we’re currently going through these 9 different commitments. We learn together by eventually bringing in professionals, educators, ministry heads, and the foolish who are so very wise to teach us things about debt management or song-writing or what the Bible says about addiction. We create together by making good art. And good music. And good photography. And good design. And people bring their guitars to our porches along with their constant spirit of sporadic jam sessions. We lead together by recognizing that there is a generation of foolish dreamers pushing their flags into the grounds around our city. Do you not feel it, Shreveport? There is a people staking claim for the years they’ve been given to do good in all the ways that they can. We lead by committing to creating and living through a system of mentoring and being mentored. We work together by living in an organic subculture of community that continues to respect a lifestyle where we are productive members of society. We were called here to work hard and play hard, and believe that both are able to be done stress free if we are passionate about our work and our play. We work together by committing to keeping a binder of jobs and ministries at the house for our friends and neighbors who are in transition and in need of income. And we dwell together by literally doing just that. By moving into a house together. Or houses together on the same street. By learning our neighbors’ names and the name of their sister that wears those quirky clothes and about the time that he quit his job because his soul was dying and how she’s afraid of being single forever and how they really do need each other but they’re not sure how to have healthy conflict. We dwell together by using each other’s washing machines and internet. We dwell together by closing our computers in the middle of a blog entry when someone walks in the door because maybe we needed to see each other’s souls more than we needed a transactional “hi and bye.”

And we are finding that tasks and events and projects are for the birds. Ideas for how to make the whole world better crumble upon immediate voicing unless passion drives the words. If I sit and list all that needs to be done in my job, my relationships, my family, my personal life, in the community and in the world—the village that God has outlined for Kingdom renewal…I will be but a disheartened space heater, exhausted with the strain of irrationally thinking that this large, empty, cold room is mine to warm. But if I find what I love and do that with the time that I can in the ways that I can, then I will be on fire. And when enough glowing coils choose to do life together, that is when we affect a culture, find our freedom, build the kingdom.

Some days there are not enough hours. Some days there are too many “that’s what she said” jokes. Some days there is no more butter in the morning for toast and it’s infuriating because you’ve only had one tablespoon of butter and who the heck is eating so much butter. Some days someone says, “I think my soul is waking up.” And more days than not, we’re seeing the good in unearthing the good in a world that we believe has more good than not.

So if you’re in the area on a Sunday night around 7pm, we’d love for you to join us for family meal and then maybe coffee while we do dishes or life discussions on the second floor porch, where the air is probably the same temperature as it is in the living room. Or on a Wednesday between 5:30 and 10:30 when the doors are always unlocked for your use of the house’s internet or washers or stove or couches. This is usually the time when our best pumpkin carving, blog writing, homework doing, or pinterest craft making takes place. Or on a Thursday around 8:30pm when we’re digging through scripture about community and the fuller, freer things, and how to practically apply them tomorrow. Or on a Tuesday or Thursday morning around 8am when we’re having coffee and talking about what needs to be done that day or hovering over the Banana Bread that Hilary made for us with bananas and sugar and magic. Or on a Friday night every now and then when our very talented friends are passing through and are willing to put on a house show and drink hot chocolate with us.

We need you here, because you’re a fire that warms the room. And together we can do the much that we cannot do apart.

There’s a Yellow House in Highland waiting on your company.

We’ll see you soon,

Britney

It's a Beautiful World, and We're All Here

As mentioned in the last post, I wanted to follow up periodically on the Yellow House's DTR journey. Defining-the-relationship and figuring out what it means to live into what we feel we've been called to. Talking and dreaming and proposing and shooting down and hoping that with little steps here and there, we'll move out of just being "residents" in a house "our friends bought us" but will grow into being a community. A home. For more than just rent-payers and meeting attenders. But for the family down the street. And the congregation meeting across town. And the guys that live next door.

So. Here's an update.

Our first three things to move toward were these: weekly house meetings, weekly meals, and Sunday teachings.

Once proposed to the tenants and the core, we decided that "weekly meetings" would be the name of something we'd show up to with our legal pads and rushed agendas making us anxious to get to the next thing on the list. So we nixed that title. And changed the name to pow wows. And decided (Carrie decided) that it would be mandatory that every week, resident/core pow wows would be held under a tent. In our foyer. Made out of sheets. And we decided that this would be a "very important" and "very serious" tradition. We also realized, in this decision, that we may very well be laying the foundation for many others and their stories to follow behind. To live in these rooms. And love on this neighborhood. To unearth the age-old vibrancy of early-church community. And quite frankly, we could have some fun with it;) And 10 years from now, 20-somethings will be tying up sheets across the banisters on a Wednesday night, once again, saying, "....now why do we do this?"

If we're not laughing, we've forgotten something important.

Also realized in this week of conversations, was that putting work into a foundation is hard. Moving into a vision that someone else has already created, built up, broken down, and refined into sustainment is ideal. Foundation is not. We're having leveling work done on the house, and it seems like a nauseatingly large amount of money to go towards something we'll never see. But it is essential for anything else to be built upon it. People who start things face an incredible risk of either laying a foundation or plummeting and taking all those they drew in along with them. They also are required to work triple time. In what they're already doing. In what they're trying to build. And in figuring out what the details look like soon enough to talk about it but not rushed enough that it isn't allowed to grow a life of its own. Makes us think about the early church, and all those communities since then who have attempted an against-the-grain livelihood where we believe that we belong to one another and that God is teaching us something collectively for the sake of a restoration at large.

That good news is this: that we are not in fact "starting something new" in the world. That was done a very long time ago. We are simply starting something new in our worlds. Begging for a system to make decisions about money given to the Yellow House, desperate to figure out a schedule that is freeing and not more packed, and wanting the Spirit to make a few things start clicking so that we know we are not just making this up, but that we're going somewhere.

And, ya know what? They kinda felt like they were underneath those old blankets that were tied at the tassels in our foyer last Wednesday. It is a beautiful world, and we're all here. What will we do?

There, we passed around the Bible and read a verse a piece from Hebrews 10 until we had scooted around the whole chapter. How real it is to hear scripture read out loud and together. As if we're not just saying fluffy, Christianese things. But we're unpacking something raw and applicable.

We laughed about that dumb cat that half of us love and half of us are freaked out by who lives on our back porch but thinks she lives on our front. Actually, she thinks she lives inside. She is terribly mistaken. We talked about thoughts a few of us had had for the house: like putting in sound equipment for teachings and house shows, building shelves in the office to make a YH library that people can check out of, inviting older women over for tea, and building a prayer mailbox for the road so that neighbors can put things in for us to pray about when we get together. We shook our heads and laughed at Grant when he said something inappropriate (because we're real people and not fake, churchy, robots) and we talked about Sunday teachings starting in October where people can come at 4 to hang out, learn, talk, play music, and stick around to eat afterward if they so choose.

We discussed what we need to know when those in need come to our doors but would be best helped by one of our partner ministries and how we need to be educated about our city. We talked about evacuating the pigeon and her babies from the second floor porch because they're pooping everywhere. And I watched a House episode once where pigeon poop was poisonous...and whereas I have been told I am overreacting and that it takes growing and consuming plants in ample amounts of pigeon poop to become poisoned...I'm not risking anything. Until those birds pay rent, I believe they can find a different living situation.

We prayed for our neighbors down the street who have had to make very difficult decisions this week and are starting the long journey of grieving the unexpected loss of a loved one. And we asked God to give peace and time for healing. And to make us available for shoulders, couches, coffee, words, and no words.

And we're seeing it, little by little. We're seeing it in our talk about freedom and in our efforts to paint a painting for the hallway that says "There's freedom for..." and paint bold printed words like "pornography" "hoarding" "abuse as a child" "legalistic theology" "substance addiction" "getting attention by exaggerating" "unhealthy conflict" "grudge holding" "pride" "gossiping about those closest to you" "depression" "our pasts" etc. We're seeing it in our talk about encouragement and how we, as followers of The Way, are great about calling out but could give life if we spoke encouragement every time we thought it. And even if we weren't feeling it...we can pretend, then that becomes habit, then that becomes character. And that process is not by chance. And we're seeing it when we pray to be people who believe in life because we continue to experience it and therefore give it; who believe in freedom because we continue to be set free over and over and over again and therefore can put stock in it. As we pray that this house, and the community of people that God is rounding up all over the city in a thousand little pockets, can be a light on a hill. Not simply pointing towards the hope of the world, but living among Him.

Believing that Jesus taught us how to die, but after He taught us how to live. Fully, freely, unbound, owned by nothing else, together with people, for the sake of something bigger than any of us.

So if you drive by a bulky, yellow house on the corner of Dalzell and Gilbert at 8:30pm on any Wednesday, look for the sheets that make a tent in the foyer. And dare to dream with us what might be happening in our city.

Hope to see you the first Sunday in October at 4pm! Or, ya know, any other time you'd like to stop by:) We've got wireless now (ahh!!) so our house is your house if you'd like to come do work there.

Stop by soon, especially if you know how to evacuate pigeons,

Britney

Yellow House: The DTR Story

The ideas that we formed a few years ago about intentional community were so romantically whimsical. Like two weeks of great fall weather or songs that write themselves. We first heard of people living life outside of the patterned norm alongside one another in books such as The Irresistible Revolution and A New Way to be Human while we were in college, and a child of possibility and necessity was conceived inside our bellies. We were not called to live isolated? And on the contrary, to live together? And share together? And create together? I like people. This was exciting.

As any Bible-belted-good-Methodist-who-has-always-been-accused-of-being-Baptist-due-to-my-tendency-to-lean-slightly-toward-the-red-of-big-questions-which-are-rarely-really-the-big-questions would do...I found a scripture to back my new ambitions. And thankfully, this time, I believe it may actually align, which can only be accredited to the Holy Spirit who lives inside of us, helping us to see where the scriptures are alive and helping us to not be too physical with our boyfriends. Holy Spirit: official sponsor of 2011.

It was in reading Acts 2 that I thought about early followers of The Way in the first century possibly being 20-somethings learning how to share life together in a very counter cultural way, even for their time. Our past two generations did not invent unhealthy independence and isolation. Fear and greed did. Now, we may have help perfect it;) But surely, interdependence and community have always been the against-the-grain thing to pursue. Because it means we have to live and work and create and be in healthy conflict with and trust people. And sometimes people suck. And this is a truth proceeding even the Savior walking on our soil. All to say...surely safe to say...we may be in good company even with the people we are reading about who lived 20 centuries before.

Opportunity presented itself to maybe move toward this dream of intentional community. Several "plans" to move from Shreveport after college in 2009 had fallen through: ie. timing for grad school, getting signed with our CCC band at that one Nashville "showcase" where that "judge" suggested we wear matching converses, falling in love/marrying/and moving with the almost-hipster worship leader that never seemed to show at any of the Christian conferences I went to find him at. So a sleeping child in the bellies and thoughts of dreamers became a possibility once again.

The summer after graduation, the one where we realized we would probably be living in Shreveport for a bit longer, we went to Haiti and took our first step into a now three year walk alongside people and experience who teach us much. After that trip, I took a leadership job in the missions department at our church which eventually became the director of missions, and the next summer, I led the young adult team down for round two. It was there that our ideas became needs. We would need to do this. We would need to live together. Collaborate together. Study together. Pray together. We had lived in a 5 room guesthouse for two and a half weeks among poverty that was so rich we couldn't help but be slapped in the face with the reality of a backwards Kingdom and how right it truly must be. We had spent the year taking the small amount of times that we could actually find to play music together, or eat together, or pray together. But, jeez, we all lived halfway across the other side of town from each other. And life was busy.

And we had been finding that many young adults/college students in the greater Shreveport area that we talked to were saying things like, "I'm lonely for...", "I wish I had time to (insert creative process here)", "I need more (depth? truth? learning? giving? going? connecting?)..."

We had seen it in Haiti. We had experienced it on floors of chapels and front porches. We had read about it. And thought maybe we could let ourselves move toward it. Something. Anything.

Now we've got nothing special or figured-out going for us. At best, we're a handful of people who are constantly caught in the battle of "did God say that? or did I make that up?" But there are a few moments where I do feel like we're being written by some big quill or shaken up in cardboard moving boxes, headed somewhere new. And one of those moments is this: Long story short. We stalked this house that was for sale for a while as it went on and off the market and I made a fool of myself by acting as if I knew what I was talking about with the realtor or had a plan of any sort. It was yellow. It was huge. It was perfect. Had a few holes, and a lean that made you wonder if you were standing up straight or not. It was the one we felt we shouldn't give up on, no matter it's $100grand selling price and $75grand renovation need. And one of the girls wanting to move in, Anna Connell, got a random baby sitting request from a new couple who had just moved (Bill and Hilary Free, plug here). One date night, two hours of conversation, and a call to the realtor later (adding in a couple of months of waiting and paperwork), the Frees had bought the house and we had begun the adventure of finding the money that God was going to provide to maybe get hot water before we moved in in July of this past summer. Or at least stop that tree-sized vine from growing in our foyer.

And I wrote about my fears a few months ago while dealing with that step of the process. Moving out of our gated community. Into a house without central air and heat during the hottest summer of North Louisiana. And it's been a fumbly, bumbly, surely beautiful beginning.

We survived the heat so far and eventually remembered to meet and pray that God would send rain to send better weather so that the house could actually be conducive for the community we wanted to share it with. We've played "hide the ceramic cow" consistently for a few months now. We've taken old coffee cups and plates and smashed them into pieces to make art out of. We got a cat. Who lived on the front porch. But then got moved to the back porch because she's too friendly for my allergies. But she still thinks she lives on the front porch. We received financial backing pledges from wonderfully excited and invested individuals and larger church bodies like First Methodist and Brookwood Baptist which will come together after the first of the year. We have left our doors opened while we paint and studied and put out the cry, "come by if you feel like enjoying the weather with us!" We're meeting neighbors. And hanging out with Emmet and his kids at the Community Renewal Friendship House. We're heating our lean cuisines up in our microwave and sitting on counters to eat them until we can fix our stove. We're hanging art and getting ready for the September 23rd Bazan house show. And running into each other when our schedules permit it.

But here's the reason for this post, other than to simply write as well as update: we're at that point where the Yellow House needs a good ole fashion DTR. A define-the-relationship (mom). Because if "A" is a life of unhealthy independence and isolation and "B" is interdependence and life-giving community, despite the resources that have abundantly poured in...we're having trouble getting from point A to point B.

Our lives as church workers, artists, and students were truly so busy in the first place that one could justifiably have asked in the beginning, "Does anyone really have time for this?" Knowing that the "this" was not simply "the Yellow House" but was "community and creativity and service" saying "no" really wasn't an option.

But if I am being honest....one 12 room house, one $65,000 pledge, 2 window units, 2 dryers, one stove, a large front porch, one nonprofit-status-paperwork process, a thriving community, and a whole web of young adults later....we are currently still just residents, most of the time. Ships passing in the night. We run into each other in the kitchen when we have time. We schedule into our busyness a couple of hours to paint this week or the next. And when we can maybe make it happen, we have a house meeting (we've had one). We are residents. Paying rent. Living in a house with all the potential of a sleeping lion...wondering when the best timing will be to live into what we've been called to. We wait for perfection. We wait for ample time. We pay our rent. And we pass in the night.

So in recognizing and identifying the restlessness that comes with this reality over the past couple of days, I felt the need to do two things: take baby steps (but actually take them), and then blog the journey.

The journey being: the DTR of the Yellow House. Figuring out how to be more than ships. Figuring out how to be a Christ centered, culturally relevant, intentional community for young adult, the arts, and missional living. Figuring out how to step back and ask the Holy Spirit how in the WORLD are we supposed to reconstruct schedules that seem impossibly necessary. And then listen when he answers.

With the baby steps being 3 fold: house meetings, family meals, and Sunday teachings.

House meetings, to start at the bottom layer of the onion with this building of community. If we can't figure out a good way to wash dishes or pray together, we are again, only ships. What will be shared must be fostered.

Family meals, to open our doors and say this night of every week our doors will be open and we'll be sitting and eating. It may be "bring your own supper." It may be, "hey, I cooked some noodles." But it will be something to invite people to, and maybe we'll learn how to love each other and share our groceries and talk about quality things. This is where good is born.

And Sunday teachings, to bring in the wisdom of those whose shoulders we gratefully stand on. To ask church leaders. Community leaders. Business leaders. Serving leaders. Worship leaders. To come and sit with us, all of us, any of us on Sunday afternoons and let us glean. As to join our efforts. As to inspire our input. As to grow the Kingdom and its civilians.

So I share this to share this...We are being equipped for the fruition of beautiful things. But through the weight of busyness, we are missing it. Honestly. So now, I tip my cap in gratitude to the Spirit for pointing it out, and ask, "Where now?"

I hope you'll be able to read back through here in the next few weeks and see how our house meetings are going. And that you'll bring your food to our table or porch for our first family meal. And that you'll come for the teachings. For conversation. For stories.

Monday night I painted a terrible flower on a canvas. It was so ugly I wanted to step through it. Tuesday night, I broke glass, glued it on that flower, then painted over everything. The flower made texture that brought the whole thing together.

Here's to learning. And messing up. And trying something new.

We're hanging that piece up in the foyer this week at the Yellow House:) You should drop by to see it...

Britney