In my humble opinion the concept of Sacred Space is not just exclusive to Holden
Village. For a very short period during my time here I found a way to connect to the nature and sacredness of the native land that Holden Village occupies by going on a hike past the foot bridge every day alone for four consecutive days where I enjoy the feeling of the nature around me. Every day was a different experience, for instance, on my first day I found the quote “Where the River Flows, Life Abounds” on the back through the foot bridge. I figured this was a sign to embrace a dance of freedom and a deeper spiritual experience bigger than myself. I later found other forms of sacred space different from the spiritual hikes and outside of the designated Sacred Space time. At the beginning of my time at Holden, I hosted a music listening session for my previously unreleased album that I decided to release while here. In my last week I hosted two events titled “Sharing From the Heart: Diverse Voices” where I hosted an open space for people to talk about things on their heart in the moment. This was open to many forms of diversity and also open to the whole village, not just staff. The events ended up being sacred experiences themselves. In addition, my experiences building a chess set in the Holden Woodshop with a very legendary staff member have been sacred in itself and I’ve enjoyed a feeling of fulfillment and joy while working on something tangible that I can say I made with my hands. It has also been great working with such a great teacher. Considering I’ve never done woodworking before I think it’s pretty amazing that I was able to create this amazing project.

These things, along with all of the other positive experiences I’ve experienced here at Holden have helped me realize my purpose and potential. Whether it was a deep conversation about the concept of aura with other staff or being a supportive friend to those having a hard time. I have positively influenced this place, and I know this because I not only feel it, but people around me have validated that I am making an incredible impact on Holden Village. My purpose at its core is to leave a positive impact on the world so big it will be talked about for generations even long after I am gone. I feel that I have so much potential with that purpose among other things and as Uncle Ben from Spiderman would say “With great power, comes great responsibility.” I think that applies to other things too. Having immense potential can change people in ways that usually aren’t good, but I intend to use my immense potential as a tool to leave that positive impact on the world. I also plan to stay the same person I am today, because I believe humility is what makes us strong.

Esai Hernandez, Holden Village

I spend most of my days working inside the Historic Barker House sitting at my desk with my
computer. When I had originally thought about working at an environmental non-profit I had
imagined myself spending most of my days outside. I never would have thought that I would be
sitting at a desk. However, in order to have the nature that I long to spend my time in, there
needs to be people doing the desk work.

Over the past month I have spent most of my time sifting through member data, making sure
data is transferred over properly, and emailing members to make sure their information is up to
date. This is important work, because in order to help preserve and advocate for the Dunes we
need financial support and these memberships are one of the ways we progress toward that.
There are multiple tiers of membership depending on the monetary donation members choose
to give yearly. Members gain access to certain privileges such as special events, advocacy
updates, and opportunities to interact with the staff that have helped shape the organization and
its mission to protect and advocate for the Indiana Dunes and Lake Michigan.

When I started my time at Valpo I was convinced that I was going to be a Park Ranger. I had my
heart set on this plan at 11 years old and did not see myself having any sort of job that entailed
spending my time at a desk. While at Valpo I fell in love with philanthropy and advocacy, through
the student org I was involved with, SALT. Park Ranger and philanthropy felt like two very
separate paths that I would never be able to mix. After getting placed at Save the Dunes I
quickly realized that my interests and knowledge that I had collected through the past few years
had all merged together into this opportunity. I have found a path that allows me to express my
knowledge and interest in the environment while also feeling fulfilled and helping impact others
through helping to preserve a space for many generations to come.

I, as well as many of my classmates at Valpo, have expressed feelings of anxiety and confusion
about their future in the last year. While this is a common feeling for college students, it has
been amplified among my environmental cohorts with all the changes in priorities with the
changing of government officials. There is, understandably, a common school of thought that all
environmental justice work is done outside, in the fields, forests, and with the flora and fauna,
but in a world and country that is experiencing whiplash the way my peers and coworkers have
felt in the past year in regards to the care of the environment, there is so much that can be done
online as well. As much as I’d like to subscribe to the “all environmental work is done outside”
way of thinking, seeing the way that I can communicate with members of my community who
care about the Earth as much as I do and help preserve the space I’ve especially come to love
here at the Dunes has given me a jolt of energy and rejuvenated my sense of hope for my
community.

Emma Depa, Save the Dunes

It’s been a month since I started at Heartland Alliance, and I’m so thankful for the experiences I’ve had and everything I’ve learned so far! Since completing my training, I have started working with some participants within the Refugee and Immigrant Community Services program. Some of my responsibilities when working with participants include reaching out to each participant and talking to them about their current employment situations, searching for jobs that participants are eligible for/interested in, and helping participants apply for jobs. If a participant gets a call-back for an interview with a job placement, it is also my responsibility to accompany them to the interview, if necessary. Each time that I interact with a participant, whether that’s over the phone or through messaging or in-person, I also have to file case notes. As I’ve started getting to know each situation and learning about how I can best serve the participants that I’ve been assigned, the case notes have been very helpful. I can go back and read case notes from people who have previously interacted with/assisted my participants, which has helped me know how to move forward and continue communicating with the participants in an effective way.

When I had my first phone call talking to one of my participants, I was really nervous! I was worried that I would forget what to ask them, or say the wrong thing. Another challenge that I was nervous about was using an interpreter. Since most of my participants don’t speak fluent English, I have to merge calls with an interpreter every time I speak to my participants over the phone. The first time I did this, I was so worried that I would somehow mess up the call and have to call my participant back – which would not be the best first impression! But once I did it the first time, it was actually a lot easier than I was imagining. It’s been a learning curve trying to communicate with people who speak different languages, but it’s also been really cool!

As I’ve continued to learn more about how Heartland operates, I’ve been thinking about how this type of work relates to the topics of my classes back at school. In many of my Economics classes, we’ve talked a lot about things like efficiency, trade-offs, and the effects of different types of policies. Thinking about these concepts and how they might relate to the situations that refugees and immigrants face has made me consider how things might be improved for refugees and immigrants from an economics standpoint. Many refugees come to the US with some type of work experience in their home country – sometimes even extensive experience in important fields, like nursing. Is there a more efficient or effective way to transfer these skills to jobs in the US that companies could offer to refugees? Could there be some program that would allow refugees to show employers/educators what they already know, to earn credibility with US companies? It’s been interesting thinking about the relationship between economics and refugee and immigrant services, and I’m looking forward to learning more about these things while continuing to work with Heartland Alliance.

Nora Fisher, Heartland Alliance

With Week 2 of our summer program nearing an end, it’s safe to say that I’ve had ample time to settle in here at the Grünewald Guild. I’ve absolutely loved the opportunity to work here in the beautiful Cascade Mountains for the summer and be a part of this inspiring community. I have the privilege of meeting new people every week, and the connections I’ve made here at the Guild are so valuable to me. I’ve learned a lot from our guests as well as my fellow staff members and supervisors.

While my primary job is communications work, I’ve been doing a variety of other tasks to help around campus. Whether it’s preparing the spaces for our next group of guests or helping someone pitch a tent, there’s always ways to be helpful. This summer the Guild found themselves in need of more support in the kitchen, which means I’ve had the opportunity to prepare meals for our guests. It’s not something I was expecting to do, but I’ve found a lot of joy in the spontaneous banana bread baking-and-distributing. Outside of that, my job is to take photos and capture the little moments of our programs. I also post on the Guild’s social media and write their newsletter. Every week, I get to make a “highlights” video to share with the community, which is one of my favorite parts of the role.

Life has been very busy the past few months, and being in this atmosphere has really allowed me to slow down and take it one day at a time. Here at the Guild, we have a routine of sharing our “noticings” every day. This is a term they have used for a while, and it’s really interesting to hear about all the different things people notice, whether big or small. Life out here is much more relaxed and intentional, which is something that I admire about them. For instance, every week someone goes out to make a bouquet of wildflowers to display in our central hub. It’s little details like this that have made me reflect on how I can be more mindful and intentional in my own life.

Being a CAPS fellow this summer, one of my main goals is to have a better understanding of what it means to do “purposeful” work. With many unknowns about my own future career, it’s been helpful to keep an open mind regarding what feels meaningful about the work I’m doing. More recently, I’ve been contemplating the differences between “living to work” and “working to live” and what that implies for me. Grünewald Guild has certainly been the perfect environment for slowing down to reflect on these things.

Living in the presence of the mountains reminds me of how small we really are in this world. But it also makes me realize the impact we can have on it. Not everyone may notice the wildflowers on the side of the road in the busy rush of life (I know I don’t always). But if you take the time to appreciate the small things, you know their value. I often find myself living life as if it’s a “to-do” list or a race to be finished. But being here has reminded me that it’s okay if I don’t have everything figured out right now, I can slow down and take my time. There is no prize to be won, and oftentimes we miss what is truly valuable in the journey.

Kayla Walker, Grunewald Guild

As I started my internship this past week I Full of questions and eagerness to learn the
behind the scenes aspect of this non-profit organization at Erie Neighborhood House. Since the kids aren’t in for programming yet, this week and last have been a blessing for me to get oriented and get a deeper dive into the summer program. Probably my favorite project so far has been building a new math lesson plan from the book “If The Shoe Fits” to teach students how to use measuring devices and their importance.

Right before beginning this internship in my last semester of my undergraduate degree I decided to make a big shift from having studied economics and Spanish to then pursuing education and receiving my teaching certificate. During this time of transition there has been a lot of concern and uncertainty of whether I was making the right choice and whether teaching was the path for me and already within making this one lesson plan I have discovered a deep joy for being creative and transforming curriculum into something that I can present and educate others. The lesson plan was one of my first independent projects here and really allowed me to show the director, facilitator, and myself that I am capable of taking on bigger projects

While working this internship, I’m also taking online classes to get a start on my teaching program for next year and there has been a lot of overlap between the two. It has been nice to apply what I’ve been learning in class into lesson planning and using what I am doing in my internship as examples for assignments. One of my biggest questions going into the Caps program was how can I grow as an individual while also helping a much larger community. I truly believe I have found that where I am able to grow my professional skills in education while also supporting Erie house and the communities that they support.

The team here at Erie house is a wonderful group of people who all care and support each other despite being in different programs. I have been able to meet so many wonderful people, Especially when I was brought into an all staff meeting on day three of being there before I had met anyone. Well I am specifically working with a READS program for student literacy over the summer Erie house also has programs in ESL and citizenship and so during these first few weeks I have been able to observe those programs as well.

Moving forward starting tomorrow the students will be in and summer programming will have finally begun! I am very excited to get hands-on experience working as an educator in the multifaceted READS program. Each week will consist of art, math, ecology, gardening/cooking lessons that now I and the wonderful team at Erie house have worked to put together. I am so grateful for this opportunity and can’t wait to see what the rest of the summer brings!

By Amelia Tandy, Erie Neighborhood House

This week marks my second week working with Heartland Alliance’s Refugee and Immigrant Community Services Program! As I’ve been reflecting on the start to my internship with Heartland, it seems like every day has brought new learning, new challenges, and in particular, new excitement. At the beginning, all I could think about was how nervous I was as I tried to navigate a different environment. The first challenge that I faced was driving through Chicago alone – which, up until last week, I had promised myself that I would never do. I remember setting my alarm super early on that first day, to plan in advance for the fact that I would probably miss at least 2 exits on the expressway. But even with the extra-early start, I quickly realized that Chicago traffic is way more unpredictable than I had planned for. I swear I could hear the traffic’s evil laugh as I rounded a bend in the highway and beheld an endless line of brakelights swarming the W. Lawrence Avenue exit ramp. After arriving at the office, I parked, walked across the street, and rang the doorbell to be let in. Inside the lobby, there were comfortable couches and a reception desk, where my supervisor met me before taking me on a tour of the office. As we walked through the various hallways and passed by the conference rooms and common areas, my supervisor smiled and told me, “Don’t worry if you don’t remember everything I’m going to tell you on this tour, because I know it’s a lot”. I know this statement sounds insignificant, but it helped put my mind at ease, and reminded me that it’s okay to not know how everything works right away.

After that first day, I spent the rest of the week learning more and more about the incredible work that Heartland does across the city of Chicago. As I’ve started to understand what the Refugee and Immigrant Community Services team does each week and the processes that the team goes through to take in new participants and place them into jobs, I’ve found myself becoming increasingly excited for what the rest of my internship will hold. I’ve also been really enjoying learning about refugee policies and the rights that refugees and asylees have when they come to the US. Prior to this internship, I had never done research on or looked into refugee rights before, and I’ve found it to be really interesting – especially in the present-day, with many of these topics taking center stage with the current political climate. While thinking about my calling and purpose throughout the CAPS program so far, I’ve been considering how these subjects of interest might play a role in my vocation in the future. Since starting college, my attention has consistently been drawn to refugee/immigration issues and policies – so with this internship focusing on those things in a non-profit setting, I’m curious to see where that might lead me in my search for calling and purpose.

Nora Fisher, Heartland Alliance

From the ecstatic moment a person arrives at Holden Village, an iconic retreat center located in the heart of Washington’s North Cascades Mountains that offers visitors a unique opportunity to step into the wilderness they are greeted with a “Hosti”. This person designs a sign with your name on it to welcome you to the village and answer any questions you may have. From the moment the school bus with Holden Village written on the side was in sight of the village entrance all the way to the time I stepped off said bus I was greeted by most, if not all, of the village waving at me and cheering for my arrival. Before even getting to the village I was required to complete a Child Safety Training which is crucial to the safety, comfort, and well-being of the children that reside in Holden Village. 

I realized that I’ve been saying Holden Village a few times now and some people might not know anything about it. First I want to acknowledge the original people living on this land. We live and gather upon the homelands of the Chelan, the Entiat, the P’Squosa, the Wenatchi-Colville and the Wenatchi-Yakama Tribal Nations. And we commit to resisting erasure of Indigenous people and stories, following Native leadership, and centering tribal voices. Here is some more info on the history of Indigenous people in the area of Holden Village. The official organization “Holden Village” started as a copper mining town. Here is a little bit about that copper mining history. 

Everyone’s travel choice is different when coming to Holden but my journey getting here was very elaborate. My mom and I drove two hours to the airport with stops. We took a 4 hour plane ride from Chicago to Seattle. Then we drove another 4 hours to Chelan, Washington where we stayed in a hotel for the night to then get on at a different boat landing than originally planned. The boat ride was about 45 minutes and then we got on a 45 minute school bus ride to Holden Village.

After finally, arriving at Holden my first thought was, is this a commune? But I later came to learn and humbly understood that it is simply a very rustic, community oriented place where everyone plays a role in the village. After 10+ hours of travel it was overwhelming but comforting to arrive to a warm welcome. I started at Holden around mid-May and I have been working as an Education Assistant where I have accomplished: making flyers to promote the incoming presenters(“teaching faculty”) and guest musicians for each week, setting up housing accommodations for teaching faculty and their guests for each of the 12 weeks of the summer, and setting up info about each faculty session/program per week. Soon I will move to working in “Narnia” the Village school where I will be working with the youth program coordinator. There I will be helping create curriculums and helping out with youth programming.

Esai Hernandez, Holden Village

It’s now been almost a week that I’ve been at the Grunewald Guild here in the mountains of Washington state, and I’m thoroughly excited for the months ahead. I’m staying in what’s called the Riverhouse, as it directly overlooks the river flowing 50 feet away from the back porch. This porch is one of my favourite places so far to sit and enjoy the area, as it’s fully screened in to keep the bugs away (mosquitos remain my arch-nemesis) and is beautifully lit with string lights in the evenings. The quiet rush of the flowing water is a constant and peaceful sound, and a wide range of birds fill the trees and air with their calls too. (There’s one critter that makes a fascinating little clicking sound sometimes and I can never find it, but it intrigues me.) I was surprised by how windy it gets here in the side of the valley given the mountains on either side and the tall pines packed pretty densely around us, but the breeze is nonetheless refreshing and gives the sense that the forest itself is breathing. There’s really just so much about the space here that I love, everything seems so contentedly alive and welcoming – the bright purple and red-orange flowers, the neon lime green moss, and the spiders weaving intricate lace across the corners of the porch.

Most of the projects I’ve been helping with so far have been focused on organizing and cleaning up some of the studio spaces in preparation for the start of summer programming, but today I helped ‘turn’ a bunch of the bedrooms, larger shared spaces, and outdoor landscaping to get them ready for when more guests come in a couple weeks. With the help of 3 other full-time staff members and a resident artist, we cleaned bedrooms, bathrooms, and studio and living spaces in four different buildings. Making beds and preparing bedding bundles were some of my favourite tasks, as well as wiping down all the surfaces and cleaning mirrors. We also walked quick loops around the buildings to check for wasp and other pest nests, and made sure all supply cabinets were stocked, whether with linens or a wide range of art supplies.

When I’m not helping organize and prepare spaces though, the staff here are really supportive and encourage me to explore my creativity and express the inspiration I experience. The campus is beautifully curated to inspire this sort of reflection and thoughtful consideration of the surroundings and one’s place within them, and that’s one theme I’ve been pondering more recently. The experience I’ve already had here in the mountains of Washington has been overwhelmingly one of intimate connection and intentional relationships both with the natural environment, and with the staff, volunteers, and guests here at the Guild. I’ve been trying to develop a better understanding of my relationships with the communities around me, and the time I’m spending here is definitely a helpful stepping stone in crossing that river.

Bianca Olfert, Grunewald Guild

The unflinching memorist Dorothy Allison writes, “Two or three things I know for sure, and one of them is that telling a story all the way through is an act of love.” A thorough and full accounting is indeed an act of love, and even an act of service. 

Following a meaningful spring break service trip in northwest Indiana several weeks ago, I might amend Allison’s formulation a bit further: telling a story all the way through is an act of love and service…and so is attending to that story–listening compassionately, for understanding, and then figuring out what it means to hold and carry that story forward. 

In a week spent criss-crossing northwest Indiana and south-southwest Chicagoland, we (Anna and Kat from the Institute for Leadership and Service) joined eight Valpo students on a journey to hear story after story–some ecology, some art, some history, some activism, some sociology – while participating in hands-on service projects related to our region’s grappling with environmental justice.  

We visited National Parks, local museums, green spaces in Chicago, an urban garden in Gary, land preserved in trust in Valparaiso and Hammond, and a local farm while we interrogated questions of land access and power imbalances, the pros and cons of industrial development, food deserts and the burgeoning urban garden movement, local agriculture, and native and invasive species in conservation work.  

Again and again, we witnessed this region’s beauty, potential, and fragility.  It is a place of interlocking species and stories, held together by shared earth, water, and air–a place intimately shaped by the forces of nature as well as the people within it.

In last week’s CSL newsletter, Pastor Kate reflected on the profound “gift of hearing a community’s story [during a spring break service trip]–bearing witness to their tragedies and their triumphs.” We felt similarly humbled by that opportunity here in Indiana, as we learned and served alongside people doing all manner of good work in this corner of the world–from park rangers and “guerilla gardeners” to community artists and activists. In the spirit of valuing stories and perspectives, we offer below the reflective takeaways from some of the students we were fortunate enough to accompany on our early March trip.

Melanie

The regional service trip highlighted the importance of understanding stories both personal and historical. Every place we went to had its own background story, shaped by its people, environment, and history. Understanding these stories helped us connect with the land around us, fostering empathy, respect, and a deeper appreciation for diverse cultures and experiences. By learning about the challenges of the communities we visited, I better understand the broader issues they face and how we can contribute to positive change. Stories help us see the bigger picture and find meaning in the actions we take.  

Student Leaders Melanie and Adam help with seed planting for this year’s Juneteenth celebration at Nichol’s Park in Midtown Gary.

Adam

Having this regional trip helped me to continue seeing the world in a different light. Doing hands-on service is nice, but it’s always harder to bring the lessons of a roof repair or hurricane relief work to NW Indiana. However, listening to stories about families within and just beyond VU’s walls resonated with me more easily, and also made me feel that I was having an impact in my community. It’s too easy for us to say “this is a problem, but it’s not happening where I’m from”, but this trip forced us to confront these questions in our own backyards. 

Abby 

Abby and other students explore the Indiana Dunes National Park and help remove invasive species to make space for an upcoming stream monitoring project.

This service trip really made me understand our environment in a different way, both culturally and naturally. I have always thought that gardening was hard to accomplish in Indiana, and that you need the perfect land to do so, but through learning about sustainable gardening, and the different ways you can re-plant food, I have been proven wrong. It was really interesting to participate in this kind of service trip, one that combined our current understanding of service, with one that sees service as learning, giving time instead of giving physical labor. Doing both helped me broaden my worldview, and I will take that forward to work that I do in my church and community.

Ximena gets her hands dirty while practicing winter sowing for the Juneteenth plant giveaway.

Ximena 

As a first year student, I was anxious as to what my first service trip would be. I had never done outdoor service and it honestly scared me. However, this trip helped me see many ways one can do service. We started our trip by learning about our environment and history from not only Indiana but Illinois as well. Our group worked on looking past the “front cover” of cities and looking at its inside work. We learned about different viewpoints and how a community can overcome its struggles. Through this service trip, although we did do some physical labor, we learned to listen and carry the stories we learned and how that is also an act of service.

Dallas 

Dallas helps with invasive plant removal and with packing totes full of locally grown produce for new moms in the WIC program.

Our Spring Break Service Trip was a very unique experience for me that helped to deepen my personal understanding of how different communities come together. Throughout the duration of our trip we learned about some of the business decisions that caused some of the largest environmental and social issues in Northwest Indiana and Chicago. Personally, I’m still amazed at how much damage can be done to one community in such a short period of time. Every area we visited challenged me to strengthen the value of listening to help learn from those we want to serve. It was truly moving to see how much it meant to them that we simply took the time to listen and understand their situation. 

Jake helps with invasive plant removal at the Shirley Heinze Land Trust Meadowbrook Nature Preserve.

Jake

Coming from someone who isn’t from the area, there was a lot of learning to do on this trip. Our service trip focused on learning a lot. Each day left me with a greater understanding of the places we visited, because we took the time to learn about where we were, and the communities present. Learning about the unique geography of Northwest Indiana served us well, but it’s something that would benefit all service trips. Similarly, getting to connect with the people we were helping first rather than simply getting to work immediately enabled us to further understand the impact of our efforts. I strongly believe understanding and service go strongly together hand in hand after this; understanding the context behind the need for the service is just as important as the service itself.

Carolyn 

Carolyn helps with plant removal to make way for an upcoming stream monitoring project.

It’s impossible to truly be of service without understanding the communities you’re serving and why you’re doing it. Without knowing the background behind the struggles a given community is experiencing, it’s impossible to address them effectively. During this trip, we were intentional about educating ourselves on the background behind the environmental issues northwest Indiana and Chicago are facing, and how they have historically impacted our area. It’s only in light of this knowledge that we were able to truly understand the context and importance of the current work that organizations are doing in our communities. By understanding why they’re responding the way they are, we were able to work with these organizations rather than simply for them to genuinely meet their needs.

Dunes Learning Center Fellow Lisa explains native and invasive species in the Indiana Dunes National Park, on our way to the Maple Sugar Time Festival at Chellberg Farm.

Murals created by local youth and families at the La Villita Park community garden in Little Village, Chicago.

Dallas and Jazzy create their own art as part of the Ordinary Wonders exhibit at the Lubeznik Center for the Arts in Michigan City.

Two ways to think about land, power, race, and industry in our area: the Pullman National Monument, and Lorraine Hansberry’s “Raisin in the Sun.” We experienced both live and in person this Spring Break.

ILAS Director, Anna Stewart, and Assistant Director, Kat Peters. We both feel so fortunate to have been on this trip with an amazing group of thoughtful, talented, and engaged students.

Members of the community of Yorkin, on a canoe of the STIBRAWPA association. Photo used with permission from https://enstibrawpayorkin.wordpress.com/images/

I have seen a saying around campus in the past few weeks, in the Student Life Administration window, in the Valparaiso University Center for the Arts Box Office: “Fall is proof that change is beautiful.”  It’s true, fall is beautiful.  However, I was thinking that perhaps we need the reminder by way of a catchy saying because we don’t often feel that change is beautiful.  In fact, it can be downright scary.

Everywhere I turn, people are reflecting on change.  The Institute’s Listening for Purpose podcast Season 2 Episode 2, an interview with Valpo senior Reahlyn Bryce (which was released on November 12, 2024), is all about change and beauty in inspiring songs.  Reahlyn and Listening for Purpose host, senior Simeon Klepac, discuss the impending transition facing seniors as they finish out their time at Valpo and make plans for the future.

Whenever I attend higher education conferences, colleagues discuss changes on their campuses that make the future uncertain and require adaptation.  A change in national administration always brings uncertainty, and many people from all sides of the political spectrum expect the upcoming administrative change to be paradigmatic.  

How do we discern our calling and vocation in such times of change and uncertainty?  How will our calling change in the impending future?  Does impending change bring us hope?  Fear?  Is the change one that we wanted, or one that was forced on us?  Does it bring us deep happiness, or is it full of sadness and regret?

For many people, the question of vocational transition is not merely intellectual or emotional, but real and material to their lives.  

During the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, I wrote about women that I know in Costa Rica and Northwest Indiana who responded to uncertainty and crisis with creativity and grit that opened up new possibilities for their families and communities, despite great hardship.  The loss of tourism income, the decline of fish populations for island dwellers, the need to take a step back from college – all were setbacks, but the vocational resilience of these women made survival possible for their families.

I want to sit with the stories of so many who have gone before us, who have passed through intense and frightening times, and who survived, even when many others didn’t.  From American Indians in my home state of South Dakota that survived boarding schools and are still here today, to refugees who passed through the Darien Gap after leaving behind everything they once knew; from Black Americans who migrated to the North during the Great Migration to escape Jim Crow, to individuals with health diagnoses that set them on vocational paths they would never have chosen for themselves.  All of these folks lived a vocation of survival and resilience in the face of change, and forged paths forward.

When economic and political systems are in upheaval, changes and uncertainty affect us all, and we are called to consider how our vocations meet the specific moments we find ourselves in.  Big changes mean that our vocations are going to shift, and we may or may not find deep happiness in that transition.   Deirdre Egan-Ryan, Professor of English and Director of faculty development at St. Norbert College recently wrote for the Network on Vocation in Undergraduate Education blog:  “Even if we don’t want to admit it, we can all feel some degree of fear as our vocations shift. It’s natural for transitions to be times of uncertainty, sometimes so intensively that we fear losing our very sense of self in the process. This is especially acute when changes are ones that we did not choose and that feel out of our control.”

Despite the fear that can come with change, new vocations are also opportunities.  In the ILAS student staff read this year, Your Calling Here and Now by Gordon T. Smith, the author encourages us to face questions of change and vocational discernment with an intentional thoughtfulness.  Smith describes this thoughtfulness as “critical, confident, creative, and compassionate” (p. 82): we see past the hype (critical), we speak for ourselves (confident), we are capable of adaptability (creative), and we have empathy for others (compassionate).  These are postures that we can intentionally practice in moments of uncertainty, and will help us to move forward.

In her podcast interview Reahlyn Bryce reminds us that change and transition are a part of life, as fearful as uncertainty might make us.  She reminds us that we will not be able to accept the gifts of a new future if we cling too tightly to the past.  May we all, in times of change, embrace the vocation of moving forward.

The Institute for Leadership and Service, we are currently accepting applications to our summer fellowship program called the Calling and Purpose in Society (CAPS) Fellows Program.  This is an opportunity to live out a calling in the moment, but also to practice the steps of discernment and deep listening, to learn about situations in the world that require attention and response.  The experience will prepare students to approach future issues of calling and purpose with tools of reflection, community, and a responsive attitude.  

If you or someone you know are interested in the CAPS Program, you can find more information on our website (www.valpo.edu/ilas), or write to us at lead.serve@valpo.edu. 

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

Twenty-one Octobers ago, I was a college student hovering over one of life’s many threshold moments, poised between what seemed at the time like teenager-hood on one side…and the yawning gap of “adulting” beyond. It was fall of my junior year at the University of South Carolina (yes, Go Gamecocks and especially their women’s basketball team, but I digress).

Beginning my fifth semester of college, I found myself right at that halfway moment in college where things start to seem more real and people begin to ask you a little more about what you might actually do after graduation.  And I….I did not feel like myself at all. I felt like I was trudging through molasses. Everything seemed foggy and gray, as though I was peering through a grimy, smudged window at other people, who cheerfully and purposefully strode through sunlit spaces, while I remained ineluctably apart, unable to access them or the bright clarity they so appeared to possess.  

In hindsight, I know I was struggling with a depressive episode, but I didn’t have language for that at the time because I’d never walked through that before.  So it just felt like something had gone terribly wrong. Tired and unmotivated, I abruptly pulled out of the many extracurricular activities I had been industriously undertaking–from our version of an ambassador in admissions (including being one of six who helped host fancy gatherings at the university president’s house) to a res hall council member and community volunteer.  I decided that I needed to pull back on my ambitious coursework as well.  As an honors student double-majoring in English and Spanish, I hoped to possibly attend graduate school for literature one day, and so I determined that I needed a breather.  Maybe, I mused, I could scale back on a course or two that wasn’t as essential for my still-developing doctoral plans.

That term I was enrolled in a fascinating honors seminar on pre-1800s African history, a subject about which I knew embarrassingly little. I didn’t fully appreciate how fascinating this class was, however, because at that moment I lacked the capacity for true awe or wonder. To this day, I can still vividly recall the course’s kindly and erudite professor who, prior to his Peace Corps service in Uganda and graduate work, had graduated from Kalamazoo College.  As a twenty year-old South Carolinian, I had no idea where Kalamazoo was; it sounded as faraway to me as the many centuries-removed history I was attempting to puzzle out.

I visited Dr. Atkinson’s office hours because I had resolved to switch from the honors seminar version of this class to a lecture-based version, with less intensive reading assignments and less corresponding projects.  I would still learn the material, I reasoned, but without as many additional requirements. Stepping into his office out of polite obligation (in my estimation anyway), I certainly didn’t want him to think I didn’t like his course. I thought it my duty to inform him of my change in plans so he would not be surprised when I moved from one roster to another on his teaching schedule.

I still remember how he peered at me through his glasses as I dutifully stood before him, reciting my plan.  He smiled softly and asked me to sit down.  How was I doing?  What did I think about the book we’d been reading?  What else was I taking that semester, and why had I chosen his class in the first place?

It all came tumbling out. Or, at least, some of it did.

Gently and with the care of a seasoned mentor, Dr. Atkinson encouraged me to stay–and not, I should hasten to add, because I needed to prove myself as some sort of exceptional college student or as someone who could not slow down and take a breath. (As a former academic advisor now myself, let me just reiterate: quadruple-majoring remains a bad idea! You do not need to do ALL. THE. THINGS.)

All these years later, I better recognize what he was up to that day. I think he intuited that what I actually, desperately needed was to relax my death-grip on the idea of who I was supposed to be–someone who never made less than an A, a perfectionist with a logical plan for academic and career success. 

Drawing me out in conversation, Dr. Atkinson encouraged me to stay in the class, not because I should but because it would be an opportunity to lean into curiosity. Indeed, the same sort of curiosity that propelled me toward exploring and analyzing themes and patterns in literature could find an outlet in these ancient primary documents. What patterns might I discover in the cultural traces of these historical texts? What stories were they telling beneath the lineages and lists? Why did it matter?

Ultimately, this proved (almost) invitation enough. Truth be told, I’m sure some part of my decision to stick it out in his seminar was rooted in a fear of disappointing him. But another part of my decision stemmed from his ability to see through my facade to the heart of the matter. What I needed wasn’t a plan to open up my schedule…so that I could probably push myself that much harder in literature seminars. What I needed was a release, a reminder of why any of this complex humanities work spoke to me and resonated so powerfully in the first place. I needed to reconnect with creativity and curiosity, and, perhaps slowly, with myself and a world blessedly bigger than me.

I’m sharing this story today after giving a version of it several weeks ago for Morning Prayer. I am so grateful to Pastor Jim and my colleagues in Calling & Spiritual Life for settling on this year’s Monday Morning Prayer theme as “That Time I Asked for Help.”  On the surface, it seems like a strange theme–certainly not the sort I remember my pastors growing up might have organized a sermon series around–but it makes a lot of sense on our college campus, where we’re all (whether students or not) learning and growing and challenging ourselves and falling short and getting back up and reflecting and learning anew.  

That’s the essential work of education after all, but it’s also the essential work of being human.  We just need reminders from time to time, and sometimes those reminders are grace-filled encounters when we admit we need someone else’s perspective or guidance. Other times (and often in my own experience), someone else perceives the heart of the matter, gently offering up the support you didn’t realize, let alone begin to articulate, that you needed. 

That is grace, and that is a gift, if we can only be wise enough to humbly receive it.

–Dr. Anna Stewart, Director of the Institute for Leadership and Service

I would like to invite you into a journaling activity this week.  We at the Institute for Leadership and Service like to promote reflection.  We think of it as a muscle we can exercise.  You know, how strong muscles are just kind of “nice to have” until one day when you need to move a couch or pick up a child, and then those muscles become absolutely necessary.  Similarly, reflection may seem superfluous, until the day we kind of just need to know what we think about a subject.

OK, the reflection activity.  Get out a writing instrument and your journal, or a piece of paper, or the back of a napkin.

First, write down where you are from.  You decide if that means, city, state, country, etc, but I mean a geographical place.

Next, think of something about that place that is meaningful to you.  Spend a little time describing it in writing. Is it a place in your hometown?  The waterfall?  Is it the public pool?  Is it the weather?  The way the sunset in August looks? What does this element of home look like?  Feel like?  Smell like?

Finally, write down why it is meaningful to you.

Now stop.  Did you do it?  Even if you’re not writing, imagine in your mind’s eye before you continue reading.

Mine is a ponderosa pine tree (smells like vanilla) next to the family cabin in the Black Hills of South Dakota.  More specifically, the day I was contemplating the age of the trees and the mountains, and spotted a rose-breasted grosbeak bird perched on one of the branches.

OK, now let’s think about our calling for a minute, our vocation(s).  One set of questions for thinking about calling is: “Who am I, and how do I show up in the world?”  Or, “How do I understand the world around me, and my place in it?”

Sometimes we think of these vocational questions as very metaphorical or philosophical questions.  I want to take a step back and make sure that we ground our philosophical/theological questions in the actual material world for a minute:

How do I survive?  Where does my food come from?  Where does my water and energy come from?  What is the soil under my feet and the land use capacity of this area?  What temperate zone are we in?

Or, who are the elected officials and civic organizations in my town/state/country this term?  What do they care about and work on?  What happened 100 years ago in this town that still influences our reality today?  Is being “me” different, depending on if I’m living in Indiana, or South Dakota, or Costa Rica?  If so, how?  If not, why not?

Together with our student staff, this year we at ILAS are reading “Your Calling Here and Now,” by Gordon T. Smith.  In this book, Smith reminds us that our vocation or calling is not theoretical – it is real, it is specific, and it is grounded in actual reality:

“Vocation is always particular: this person, at this time, and in this place.  Vocation is never discerned in a historical vacuum; it is always in the specifics of the world in which we live.  It is always about the here and now – and, as needs to be stressed, it is the here and now as it comes to us, as it presents itself, not as we wish it to be.  We get beyond wishful thinking, and we name reality and discern calling in the light of and in the midst of this time and this place – this situation.”

The “here and now” of our present situation is specific, and it’s daunting.  Our global situation is full of war and conflict.  Our national situation is a time of divisiveness and uncertainty.  The current U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisories in place have to do with mental health, loneliness, and gun violence.  Our economies and environments feel precarious.  

We can wish those things away, but Smith reminds us that our calling is not to live in a dream world, but to address our time and place as they are, with the tools at our disposal given our formation.

To end this activity, I invite you to look back at what you wrote about where you are from.  What about that place makes you who you are?  And what about who you are, has something to offer to the place and time where you live now, and to the people in that place?

To my ponderosa pine, I bring my learning from a geomorphology class that taught me that the ground that pine is standing on is an ancient volcanic batholith.  To the cabin, I bring my realization that my white family came into this land after violence, conflict, and betrayal whose legacy lives on.  And to the grosbeak comes my experience of finding another grosbeak (is there any way it could have been the same one??) perched in a branch near my home in Costa Rica, years after this original siting.

My place brings me awe, it brings me deep and complex questions, and it brings me evidence that we all are connected.

What does your place bring you?

And if you are in doubt, or despairing, I invite you to return to your (former or current) place – there will be direction there for you.  What flower is blooming?  What bird flits by your window?  What person that you encounter in your daily routine brings a smile or an encouraging word?  What deep historical truth about your place can help you to know what the next right step is, in this time and this place?

-Kat Peters is the Assistant Director of the Institute for Leadership and Service, housed in the Division of Calling and Spiritual Life at Valparaiso University

Over the course of this summer and my internship at Erie House, one thing has became ever more clear to me each time I wake up and head to work: any number of individually insignificant factors can decide whether or not it’ll feel like a good day. For example, it could be cloudy but not raining, my bus is on time, and I have an extra minute to grab coffee before I clock in. That’s already a good day. Just as much, if it’s raining without an umbrella, both of my bus rides get delayed, and I have to show up twenty minutes late, that’s kind of a rough start.

Any one of those single elements shouldn’t be enough to make or break a day, but taken together, they pile up quickly. And, of course, that’s just the first hour or two of your standard weekday. If you’re in the habit of noticing things, there will be more of these little factors than a reasonable person would even try to count. So, that begs the question: What do you do when every single part of your otherwise normal day seems to be going wrong?

I suppose you just have to do your best. There’s not much else that can be done. 

Whatever you have to do that day, just try to do it well. Enjoy the help of who’s with you. If you’re going solo, just focus on your surroundings, thinking as much as you can about whatever catches your eye (if it’s not something good, keep looking). Eventually, the object of your frustration will only become a smaller part of an otherwise normal day. Maybe something better or worse will happen later, but that’s not happening in the moment.

• by Lucas Lennen, Erie Neighborhood House