They say that those who can’t do, teach. That’s never made much sense to me. How is someone supposed to teach something they’ve never experienced? I mean, you have to at least know the knowledge if you’re trying to pass it on. On the other hand, teaching is just another form of communication, so having a receptive audience does make a huge difference. Luckily for me, the first- through third-grade students enrolled in the Little Village READS summer program at Erie Neighborhood House are definitely there to learn.

Having never worked with children before (or even taught groups in a formal setting, for that matter), I’d been pretty anxious before starting my internship at Erie House. For the week before the students started, my time was occupied by emails, lesson plans, supply checks, book shelving, and everything else I could think of doing to prepare and make sure that the summer would get off to a smooth start; frankly, it had me kind of worried. Not knowing exactly what to expect, I could only fear the worst: brainrotted Gen-Alphas who wouldn’t be able to sit still and focus on anything for more than thirty seconds if it wasn’t plugged into the Internet.

Come Monday, I realized that I couldn’t have been more wrong. As the kids trickled in from drop-off, I did my best to introduce myself and welcome them to what will essentially be their summer school, thinking that they’d be dreading every additional minute in a classroom past the regular academic year’s last bell. Instead, they were immediately finding ways to entertain themselves, looking through our bookshelves, drawing, solving puzzles, and eagerly chatting away with their friends as soon as they walked in the door. Not a screen in sight. One of the boys even asked me if he could go outside to check on the garden and water the vegetables; I was more than happy to oblige him. In that moment, I felt better about the next generation than I ever thought was reasonable.

As the day went on, I got to know the students and see how they learn; not a one of them is without curiosity. Whether it’s from the books they choose for free reading, the way they participate in lessons and projects, or the wide-ranging questions that pop out their heads (what’s the sun made of, where do cicadas come from, Messi or Ronaldo for GOAT, etc.), there is a constant reminder that people really do crave a sort of understanding for the world around them. That shared sense of wonder is precisely why I applied for CAPS in the first place. Teaching or learning, it’s all part of what gives purpose to being human, no matter how old you are. In terms of vocation, personally, I’m just grateful for the opportunity to be a part of that wonder.

• Lucas Lennen, Erie Neighborhood House

This summer I have been working at Jacob’s Ladder, a pediatric rehabilitation clinic in Chesterton, Indiana. I have thoroughly enjoyed my first 3 weeks working there. I am majoring in Healthcare Leadership and am struggling to find what path I want to go into in Healthcare.

Before I started my job, I was excited to work in a clinical setting to really find out, or at least point me in the right direction of a path in my profession. I was also looking forward to using the resources and guidance CAPS provides to reflect on my experiences daily. One thing I realized immediately was that my work was going to take patience and a lot of effort.

A lot of the time, I am doing research for grants, for my organization and organizing the reopening of providing aqua therapy sessions. This is long hours researching equipment, set up, location, and other key aspects for information for grants and aquatherapy.

The other part of my job is shadowing physical therapists during their sessions with children and helping out at some of their camps, especially the wheelchair wars camp, every Friday morning. This is one of my favorite parts of every week and I always look forward to it. I have created a great relationship with one of the campers, Maverick. He is a 6 year old, with trouble walking. I really enjoy my time, working through obstacles and trying, failing, and succeeding. I am only with him for 2 hours every week, but I am always in a great mood after every Friday when I finish working with him. His persistence and positive attitude is infectious and has really helped me reflect on my own actions and decisions, which is a big part of CAPS experience.

As I see Maverick, and the other children, with physical and mental challenges, come to sessions everyday, and continually work to improve and get stronger, I think back to myself, and times I have been ungrateful or taken opportunities for granted. CAPS has pushed me to be more thankful and reflective, everyday that I take time to reflect on both administrative work and therapy. I have been blessed with opportunities in sports and academics my whole life, and I feel that it is easy to often take it for granted, complain, and not give it my all. My experience so far at Jacob’s Ladder, especially with Maverick, has really helped me grow and realize how important it is to be thankful for every opportunity in life, and give it my all, just as Maverick does. 

–by Colin Graves, Jacob’s Ladder

In a small town tucked away and hidden by Washington state’s Cascade Mountains, there resides a non-profit organization called Grünewald Guild. This organization offers a wide assortment of community-oriented classes based upon artistic mediums ranging from songwriting, weaving, watercolor, and many others. Due to the absolutely scenic location of the guild, there is a larger influx of students during the summer programs compared to the rest of the year, and the title of this year’s summer program is Waymaking. You may be wondering, “What does waymaking mean?” and this terminology refers to the ability that one has over their unique ways of implementing a personal touch within all of their endeavors. The Guild’s wonderful Executive Director, Sarah Sprouse, is incredibly fascinated with the manner in which rivers are able to consistently adapt and change their path depending on the season or circumstance. The tides of the tenacious rivers always persist, and they make a profound and visible impact on the environment in which they reside. A river forging its own path is a prime example of what it means to be a waymaker, but this metaphor can be easily applied to the journey that all artists pursue. Progress is almost never linear and the journey that every artist pursues demonstrates their commitment to positively impacting themselves and the world around them through their creations. Through the gentle guidance of the guest artists, the guild hopes to aid their students in their goals and objectives within their craft of choice.

Through the CAPS Fellows Program, I have the privilege of working as one of the Communication Interns at Grünewald Guild during their busy Waymaking Summer 2024 program. Through my role as a Communications Intern, I specialize in designing newsletters, writing blog posts, and creating social media guidelines to promote the guild’s core values of art, faith, and community to prospective and returning students. Accompanying this role, I also partake in programming efforts to ensure the general upkeep of the campus. I have been working at the Guild for exactly a month and my experience has been delightful and incredibly enriching; however, there was one aspect of my work experience that I did not expect to encounter.

I feel as though the way that time progresses while at the guild is quite strange to say the least. I have always had an extremely Type A personality and, since I was born and raised on the East Coast, I have always functioned under the jurisdiction of a New York minute. The mentality that was instilled in me since birth was that every task I would undertake must be done perfectly in the most timely manner possible so that I can move quickly onto my next task. I have found that this ideology has become less regional over the years and, unfortunately, has become an almost universal modus operandi. Under these conditions, the importance of art is often overlooked and swept under the rug, but the mission of Grünewald Guild actively combats this utilitarian perspective. 

The Type B approach that Grünewald Guild has to their organizational climate has been a culture shock to me but it is something truly novel. I am encouraged to practice mindfulness and to literally stop and smell the flowers, more specifically the scarlet trumpets, during my time here. The more I have tried to conceptualize the Guild’s peculiar progression of time, the more my mind associates it with the highly remarkable poetry of T.S. Eliot. I am an avid fan of Eliot’s poetry and the piece of literature that began my infatuation with his work was his collection Four Quartets. In this prose, Eliot focuses on the concept of timeless moments and uses vivid imagery to symbolize that time is a series of gray areas. When I first read Four Quartets, I found it difficult to conceptualize the phenomenon of timeless moments that Eliot was illustrating but, through working at the Guild, I realized that the past, present, and future are not wrapped into neat and tidy categories that are to be easily consumed. These three categories are deeply intertwined and inherently dependent on one another, and the most fascinating nuance of this is how casually the connection manifests. I drink water from a mug that was created by Richard Caemmerer, co-founder of Grünewald Guild and former art professor at Valparaiso University, and I breathe in oxygen from trees planted by Liz Caemmerer, co-founder of Grünewald Guild. Richard and Liz Caemmerer paved the way for the success of Grünewald Guild’s pedagogy and this tutelage is rooted in their ideas from the past, intricately preserved in the small joys of the present, and will ultimately transcend into the future. 

As a rising senior at Valparaiso University, one thing that has been weighing heavily on my mind recently is how I would like to indulge in my vocation post-graduation. Through my fascination with the style in which time preserves traditions and philosophies, I have begun looking into opportunities for librarianship and archival work so that I can play an active role in that conservation process. More precisely, I would like to work with music scholarship, collections, and archives in order to safeguard the unbridled power that music holds. As part of my compensation for my work at Grünewald Guild, I was able to take one of their classes completely free of charge and I chose to take the class The Muse, Your Dues, The Fuse: Songwriting with the spectacular singer-songwriter Jan Krist. During the first day of class, Krist said a phrase that has bounced in my head throughout the entire duration of that class. She said that others have described her music as “Hope in a minor key,” and that wording stuck with me due to the sheer complexity of the sentiment. The stories that people hold fall on a spectrum of emotions and, though it is cliché, it is only fitting that art should imitate life. From my scrapped lyrics written in my messy handwriting to the songs of my classmates that I constantly hum, I now carry artifacts of a timeless moment that began with the vision of Richard and Liz Caemmerer back in 1980. 

— Jasmine Collins, Communications Intern at Grünewald Guild

If I leave this Internship with nothing else, it will be the memories of people swept up by purpose. Seeing interns, project managers, and conservation stewards alike inspires me continuously. In my position, the opportunity to see the inner workings of a nonprofit, and the complex world of grants, partners, and funding has presented itself. Additionally, I get to take an inside look at the research, water quality monitoring, and long-term conservation goals of Shirley Heinze Land Trust. 

Despite all these good things, I’ve come across an unsettling issue. The possibility of having a vocation has truly presented itself, and I could find myself swept up by a calling at any time. Vocation is an idea I had never seriously entertained. After all, I am easily contented and have always found happiness in my circumstances.

If you had asked me at any other point in my life about vocation, I might not have had a clear answer. Both of my parents are teachers and are deeply involved in their careers, which provide a significant and emotionally rewarding part of their lives. But for me? I had ruled out the possibility, but I always planned on finding a career and turning it into a calling, rather than being drawn to a path. I reassured myself that my passions and interests would remain, but they would be confined to my own time.

I expected to “learn to love” my job as if it was inevitable that I would work an unfulfilling job. But what if my vocation does exist, and I am drawn towards a path that I cannot pursue for whatever reason? After reflection, I discovered that my thought process had been the following. Never knowing I could have a vocation would be preferable to finding one that’s out of my reach. 

I had assumed that if I were not on the watch for vocation, or allowing myself to feel called to a line of work, I might never be given one. Is that silly, or prudent? In any case, it is certainly not brave, and I realize now that it has been a mechanism for preventing potential dissatisfaction later in life. I had thought I was surrendering when in reality I had taken life into my own hands. The truth is I refused to let myself be vulnerable, and ultimately I may have been dismissing the masks of God for fear of hardship. 

Korbin Opfer,

Shirley Heinze Land Trust Intern 

From the moment I stepped off the Amtrak train in Leavenworth, WA I have been in awe of the landscape around me. The air is fresher, everything is green and taller than any building. The mountains rise up in every direction, completely surrounding us in the plain little valley where the Grünewald Guild is located. We’ve been here three weeks now and I still can’t get over the scenery. The mountains aren’t new to me, I grew up near the Sierra Nevadas, but this feels so much more impressive and wild. They seemed almost too surreal at first. Everywhere I turn it looks like I’m looking at award-winning photos of landscape, it’s hard to believe how extensively beautiful Washington is.

While my main goal for this summer was to form new community relationships through service (and I have absolutely done that), my second goal was to explore and learn. I’m in a new environment, and it’s definitely different from Valparaiso. When going out to the woods in the mountains for the summer with the goal of exploring in mind, you tend to think of outdoor activities like hiking, backpacking, camping, swimming, etc. things that put you out in the thick of the outdoors to find a meaningful experience. Friends from home have constantly been asking me if I’ve found any good hiking spots nearby. I have, but I’ve found my own way of exploring the world around me. I wander around the campus with my binoculars to spy on birds, squirrels and the occasional deer. On top of a boulder overlooking the Wenatchee River is my favorite spot for meditation and time to let my mind wander. I’ve learned that not all exploring has to happen in the way you expect though, sometimes the little adventures find you instead of you having to look for them. You can explore through old art pieces stored up in the attic and start to learn the history of the artists who’ve lived and taught here over the decades. Even sitting quietly on the front porch of a cabin can teach you so much. You notice the rain in the bright sunshine that only lasts for five minutes, you hear the birds chirping as they move about in the rustling trees, you meet new people who bike past or stop by for a visit. 

The mountains have given me a very interesting lesson. The world can seem too big for us to handle sometimes, it can feel like we’re very small and not able to get very far or like we won’t measure up to the highest peaks. But, taking each day and task slowly and calmly, we can slowly build up ourselves and others. Exploring and learning bit by bit has allowed me to feel more connected to my space here and offered me time for honest, peaceful reflection.

Building up,

Gabby Unzicker

Grünewald Guild Intern

 As I walked into my first staff training and orientation session of my placement, I immediately noticed the passion and drive that the leadership of Camp Lakeside (and by extension Opportunity Enterprises) have for their work. I was excited to join a team that truly cared about the work that they do, as well as the service that they are providing to the community. That being said, the camp environment is one that can be hectic and overwhelming, which was evident even in the orientation process weeks before the wild ride officially started. Camp Lakeside’s main objective is to bridge the gap between typically developing children and peers that aren’t. Simply put, the goal is to create an environment where people of all abilities can come and enjoy the camp experience. With this, I was able to come in as a fresh face with a position that will be able to help aid and create more meaningful experiences.

While the camp season has only just begun, I have had many different opportunities to fulfill my duties of collecting the necessary data for the camp. One of the biggest skills that I have used in the short time that I have been here is the art of creative productivity. In my position of direct observational research, that often means spending a lot of my day, directly or indirectly, interacting with campers. This has meant that, on multiple occasions throughout my week, I am often jumping in on games of “duck, duck, goose”, hanging out at the archery range, or even taking an afternoon boat ride around the lake. 

Two other impactful skills that I have learned and used so far in my time at my internship are time management and communication. While most of my duties during the week are typically pretty laid back and casual, there are certain days, typically Thursdays and Fridays, where my job becomes much more fast paced. On these days, I (along with other camp staff) am tasked with conducting surveys of the campers that are on sight for that given week. Conducting these surveys can take some time, especially with the population that I am working with and that the camp serves. With the support of my supervisors Nichole and Walter (affectionately known at camp as “Chief” and “Bullseye”), I have learned to better communicate and explain what it is that I am assessing, and what it means for the future of the camp that comes as a result. 

 While it is still very early on in my internship and the work that I am doing, I hope that as time passes throughout the summer that I continue to find deeper appreciation for what it is that I am doing on behalf of Opportunity Enterprises at Camp Lakeside. Much of the work that I get the chance to do will inevitably impact so many families in positive ways, even if I may not get to directly see the fruits of my, and others, labor in the short time that I am here.

Representing Opportunity Enterprises and Camp Lakeside, 

Rasheed Jibriel

My office is tucked on the second floor of 444 Barker Road, just a stone’s throw away from Lake Michigan. My desk had been haphazardly dragged in front of the room’s only window, and upon my arrival only had one singular occupant, a snake plant that was practically begging for some water. And honestly, three weeks later it doesn’t look much different. A flyer shoved in a drawer, a hair tie that had been long abandoned, maybe a water bottle that had been forgotten during a quick departure. It is apparent to anyone who works in the Barker House that I don’t usually sit at my desk, and that’s something that I’m quite proud of. Let me explain.

My arrival 3 weeks ago was followed by a whirlwind of activity. First there was orientation, then an introduction to my coworkers, which in turn was quickly followed by my first staff meeting. I was given project after project, leaving my head whirling and my laptop full of fragmented notes. It became quite clear that the staff at Save The Dunes wore many hats, and worked passionately to keep this non-profit relevant, flourishing, and dependable. And for some odd reason, this shocked me. Not to any fault of their own, but simply because I had forgotten it was possible to work in alignment with your passions. In my mind, my future career and profession (whatever that would end up being) had long been labeled as something that would merely provide me a source of income and perhaps multiple cups of lukewarm break room coffee a day. I didn’t quite dread what was coming, but I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it either. This brought around a question that I had scribbled in my CAPS journal a couple weeks before; where did passions belong in a profession, and vice versa, could a profession truly align to a person’s passions? 

And to be honest, I’m still working on an answer. But seeing my coworkers love the environment enough to advocate for it every day sparked a little bit of hope that maybe one day I’ll work in a place like that too. Where I wake up in the morning (or at least most of them) and I’m actually EXCITED to drive to the office and try to make a difference that the average person can see. And you know what? Maybe one person can change just a tiny piece of the world. 

I don’t intentionally avoid my desk, or leave my desk to get away from my coworkers. It’s just simply that since the very beginning the entire house on 444 Barker Rd has felt like home. The warm, cushioned chair on the sunlit covered porch, the elegant conference room, and the cheery yellow tiles of the kitchen always give me somewhere new and unique to work. My coworkers laughing on the porch or sitting on the couches of the living room are the best company (And truly now feel like family) and the group hikes often leave me content and sunburnt. Why in the world would I ever sit at my desk when there’s so much to learn everywhere else? 

Wishing the weeks would go by slower, 

Heather Elwood, 

PROUD Save the Dunes Intern

I entered my internship with the American Red Cross without expectations, mostly because I didn’t know fully what to expect and what I would be working on. I felt excited to try something new and branch out beyond my area of study and my typical skill set, something I had mentioned during the CAPS application process that I wanted to focus on and grow in. So far, I believe that the work I’ve been able to do through the American Red Cross has helped me to see myself and my calling as something greater than one niche thing. I have my hands in many different places, and it’s been refreshing to exercise different skills and ‘muscles’ of my brain to assist with various projects. 

Specifically, I have been working with my wonderful supervisor, Colleen, on various projects relating to the alliance between the American Red Cross of Indiana and Indiana University Health. I am updating the volunteer information packet for the new volunteers from IU Health. I am adding updated information to the packet and also improving the design. Additionally, I am putting together the summer edition of the quarterly newsletter, which involves designing the newspaper and interviewing nurse volunteers to highlight in the newsletter. 

Something I am learning, especially having a remote internship, is that just because I don’t see a direct impact of the work I’m doing doesn’t mean that my work isn’t impactful or important. While I may not be able to directly interact with a lot of the volunteers or know who will read the packet and the newsletter, I understand that those resources that I am working on will benefit the network of Red Cross volunteers in one capacity or another. As someone who normally craves instant feedback and honestly, gratification, learning to trust the long-term impact of something I’m creating is a major growth area in these first couple weeks of my internship. 

Another growth area from the first few weeks of my internship has been building a practice of discipline. Working remotely means that I need to create a schedule each day, and keep myself on track for certain tasks and projects I need to complete. I have learned a lot about myself, how I work best, and how I can keep myself motivated, especially on the days when I am not as eager to work on things. Having the end goal of completing three hundred hours in the back of my mind has been especially helpful. I even made a paper tracker to cross off the hours I complete, which has been a fun reward at the end of each workday. Keeping myself on track for completing the hours has led to a practice of being more intentional with how I spend my time and a new focus on the importance of routine and prioritization, skills that I can continue to apply throughout the rest of my professional and personal life.

All in all, the past few weeks interning with the American Red Cross have been rich in learning opportunities and moments of growth. I am looking forward to what the rest of the summer will bring!

• Grace Roberts, American Red Cross

I am going to go out on a limb and say that the summertime brings joy to many people. A balanced mixture of sunshine and warm weather has always been the driving factor for my love for summer. Luckily for me, this summer I have the amazing opportunity to enjoy the wonderful joys of summer at Grunewald Guild located in Leavenworth, WA.

During my time as an undergrad at Valpo I have used the summers away from school as a time of self-reflection and intend to do the same this summer. My method of daily self-reflection usually entails asking myself, “What is one memorable thing that has happened today?” Sometimes I can easily pinpoint a moment that stood out to me, but sometimes it takes more time to find a significant moment each day. Whenever I struggle to immediately pinpoint a memorable moment, I am forced to replay the day’s events in my head, often highlighting the little moments that go overlooked in the moment. And now that I am officially beginning my summer at the Guild, I would like to share some of the little moments that I found on my journey out here. 

My summer adventure started off with a connecting train ride into the windy city of Chicago. This initial train ride was my first time on a train and was an excellent precursor to the long 42-hour train ride headed out west. During the ride, I tried to soak in the sights and memories of Northwest Indiana because I wouldn’t see cornfields again for at least a few months. The sight of the fields reminded me of my family and friends that I was leaving behind for the summer. Something as simple as a cornfield helped me reflect about my loved ones and it helped ease the nerves of traveling across the country. 

As the train continued its tracks towards the coast, the passengers were instructed that the train was stopping for a weather delay in Wisconsin Dells, WI. What was initially a 45-minute delay turned into a 2-hour long conversation with other passengers, including another CAPS Fellow. At first the weather delay seemed to put a damper on the trip but turned out to be quite the opposite. It got passengers talking and cracking jokes to one another to pass the time. Through the mutual connection of being stuck on the train and the less-than-ideal weather, many bonds were created through passengers. Some of these bonds lasted for the remainder of the trip in the form of having a buddy to talk to during maintenance stops along the route. Again, something that many may see as insignificant or even detrimental ended up being one of the highlights of the journey. 

While my journey out west has concluded for the time being I will continue to make every day memorable. Whether it is a fun conversation or taking a few extra moments to look at flowers, there will be no moment overlooked – no matter how little they seem.

• Corey McClure, Grunewald Guild

Yellow Thighed Finch, Costa Rica

As we explore questions of leadership and service at Valpo, we talk a lot about leadership in times of complexity and challenge, or serving the world’s deep needs.  While it is valuable and necessary to think about how we can change things for the better, our leadership and service must also be marked by a humility that understands that “we” might not have the right answers, or the tools necessary to “fix,” and that we might actually need to change something about ourselves, rather than about the world.

More to the point, what happens when we see the world as good as we lead and serve?  What happens when we see those we seek to serve as having assets, resources and capital that we ourselves might not have?  Does anything change?

In my capacity as a Lutheran Deaconess, I was recently invited to share with students of the Lutheran Diaconal Association at Valparaiso University on the topic of one of our diaconal hallmarks: Prophetic Voice.  This powerful hallmark reads:

“Individually and as a community, the diaconate points to God’s vision of shalom (peace, wholeness, and salvation) for the whole creation. Through action and word, the diaconate raises a prophetic voice, calling and recalling the church to its diaconal task, advocating with those whose voices have not yet been heard, exposing injustice and oppression and reminding all God’s people that in God’s realm the least is the greatest. Lest they lose sight of God’s vision of shalom, members of the diaconate also remain open to the prophetic voice of others, especially those on the margins, who challenge them to remain faithful to their diaconal call.” 

Specifically, the diaconal students were looking at this point in the hallmark: “A Deaconess/Deacon identifies personal power and cultural privilege, using these as opportunities to lift up those caught in cycles of powerlessness and oppression.”

Susan L Maros points out in her book, Calling in Context, that it’s often harder to see our own power, and easier to see where we feel our power is lacking.  In situations where we are the ones with personal power and cultural privilege, how do we learn to identify this and to listen to the abundance present in the world, to the voices of those who have assets and resources we have never considered?

Rabbi Abraham Heschel, an inspiration and mentor for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, writes in the introduction to his book on the Prophets that the key attitude to cultivating a prophetic stance is to be “sensitive to God’s spirit” and to “know what we see rather than see what we know.”

What does this mean, knowing what we see rather than seeing what we know?  I am reminded of the time that I was bird watching in a Costa Rican cloud forest, practicing my binocular skills with some US university students.  I saw a gray bird in a cypress tree, looking quite unremarkable.  I almost walked right by.  Then I used my binoculars and saw that the bird actually had bright yellow “pants,” feathers along its legs that are a delightful surprise.  This aptly-named Yellow Thighed Finch is endemic to Costa Rica and Panama, and thus by identifying it upon closer inspection I was able to see a bird that very few people in the world actually get to see.  

How many times have we assumed we knew what we were looking at, whether it be a bird, or a political question, or a conversation with our partner or other relative?  How often do we take the time for a closer look?  How often do we stick with it long enough to be surprised?  

The particular challenge of the diaconal hallmark comes when we are asked to identify personal power and cultural privilege.  Those of us with a lot of power and privilege don’t get our assumptions questioned very often.  It can be easy to run roughshod over others through simple “privilege inertia” that allows us to plow forward even if what we are doing is nonsensical, or at worst, harmful to others.  When we come from a position of personal privilege and cultural power, standing for God’s shalom means problematizing our own position, and practicing humility and justice.  

Can we with power and privilege come to know better what we see, and be humbled by the bright yellow feathers on the seemingly simple, gray bird?  And when we notice and understand the strength held by others, how does this change our behavior?  

A friend recently pointed out that people who speak two languages are not often credited with the unique strength that is being bilingual.  Bilingualism brings with it many more benefits than simply being able to speak two languages.  The US Department of Education points out that bilingual people have better critical thinking skills, are better at remembering information, have an easier time with math and logic, and can more easily understand and learn more languages.  They can code switch between cultures, understand divergent viewpoints, and even identify more emotions and ideas due to the fact that they have a larger vocabulary overall.  And yet, in our society students with a first language other than English are seen as “behind” in school, Deaf people are losing access to ASL in school, and high-stakes standardized tests are built for monolingual English speakers, failing to showcase the strengths of bilingual people.

What other areas have you noticed where characteristics that are largely seen as deficits might actually be assets?  How does changing our mind about these characteristics open us to promoting God’s shalom in our communities?  

-by Deaconess Kat Peters, M.Ed, M.A, Assistant Director of the Institute for Leadership and Service

Photo credit: By Cephas – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34218026

When I was a Valpo student, vocation was often discussed in my circles as being the place where one’s “deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”  This is a classic statement from Frederick Buechner.  It’s shorthand, while also holding important meaning.  In fact, Buechner helpfully gives some practice examples of this, suggesting that writing cigarette ads might be fun but probably not helpful, and that being a doctor in a leper colony is very helpful, but if it drains your joy then may not be your best-fit vocation.

The image that this formula always brings to my mind is that of a cross-hairs: two straight lines that find a center, a bullseye.  The world’s need on the x-axis, my gladness on the y-axis.  In this image, as an undergraduate, I found a target with a point system, like the archery targets I used to practice on at summer camp.  Miss the mark, lose the game.  If I cannot find my center, my purpose, will my life be worth living?

In my work in development studies, we confront the same problem – how to define development, how to measure it?  One key problem to the idea of development is that it necessitates the existence of “underdeveloped” places and people, those who need to be brought into alignment with a “better” way of life.  There is a target, and you can hit the mark, or miss it.

This may not be Buechner’s intent, and a charitable reading will give him the benefit of the doubt.  Hopefully everyone can find themselves at this crossroads.  But images bring with them connotations, and this image of the axes connotes targets, success, failures.  What if a different image were a little more helpful?

Valpo is also home to several labyrinths.  There are two outdoor labyrinths, one located on the east side of the Chapel of the Resurrection, and one at the Lutheran Diaconal Association center.  There is also an indoor, portable canvas labyrinth, which was used at a session for MLK Day in January on spiritual resources for action and contemplation.

As Travis Scholl (‘96), the author of Walking the Labyrinth: A Place to Pray and Seek God and the presenter at the MLK Day session, eloquently points out, a labyrinth is the opposite of a straight line.  In fact, the center of the labyrinth is not located at the crosshairs, and the way to the center takes the longest and most circuitous route possible within the space.  Moreover, the center of the labyrinth is not a dot, but an empty place.  

What does this mean for our journey of understanding our purpose and calling?  As many of us can attest, years or decades after college graduation, life does not play out in a series of straight lines.  If we find a magical “bullseye” where we feel fulfilled, glad, and useful, this feeling may not last or it may not be present every day.  

Scholl tells us that the empty center of the labyrinth demonstrates the emptiness of our clichés and our pieties, and calls us to understand that all we can do in our search for purpose is to find ourselves in the present moment.  In that moment we find ourselves face to face not with our definitions, aspirations, or accomplishments, but with our Creator, who tells us that we were created for just this moment, that we are enough.  No instructions beyond that.  That simple, and that difficult.  

Where our previous ideas told us we fell short, that we are lacking, in the center of the labyrinth all that we have walked before comes to fruition in the moment, and meets the moment, if only we can trust.  

And then, rather than congratulating ourselves for hitting the target, we walk the long and winding path back out into the world to live and act in the present moment, having experienced the center.

• by Kat Peters, Assistant Director of the Institute for Leadership and Service
• Photo credit Pastor Kate Museus

The Division of Calling and Spiritual Life (ILAS and the Chapel) is working with campus partners this Lent and this spring to bring the canvas labyrinth to different corners of the university.  We invite you to watch for this labyrinth, or to visit the outdoor labyrinths east of the Chapel and in the garden of the Lutheran Diaconal Association Center.  We invite you to take the first step, to take one step at a time, to reach the center of your life.