A Year of Looking
The other day, someone asked me to describe what The Fellows was (a question that, despite being asked it on a weekly basis, still hasn’t become any simpler to answer). Not knowing how involved of a response this person was hoping for, I gave him the cop-out answer of, “well, it’s a gap year…”, to which I was quickly asked, “well, what are you taking a gap from?” This reply left me both answerless and freshly aware of a few things. First, that a gap was hardly an accurate way to describe this year of fullness I’m so lucky to be in the midst of. And second, that I really wanted to put my finger on what exactly this year is all about for me.
The Fellows is not a gap year. It’s not necessarily a year that says “go,” either. Instead, I think it’s a year of looking– a year of really paying attention to where I’m at, not gazing off at foreign futures or rushing on to novel ideas. It’s a year of noticing all that God has placed in front of me, right here, right now, and trusting that it is precisely the place He wants me to be in for this season.
During his time on earth, I think Jesus showed us what it means to really look at others, to look at the world. He taught us a way of looking that sees past the first glance, that can be interrupted without becoming distracted, and that can look at the raw and rugged realities all around without ever losing hope. In a world where we’ve been trained to see at the speed our thumbs can scroll, it feels as though Jesus wants to take us birdwatching–a much more patient and curious way of looking. The Fellows has slowly taught me to become more attuned to this grace-filled narrative of “behold, I am doing a new thing” right here (Isaiah 43:19), instead of the far too familiar narrative of “what’s next?” This year has been a much needed pause where I can reassess and rejoice, right where I’m at.
Earlier this year, as we were setting off on a fall retreat, Ralston, our Fellows director, charged us with a simple task: look for each other. Now, he wasn’t suggesting that any of us were going to get lost over the course of the weekend. Instead, he was encouraging us to notice, with a keen eye, how our fellow Fellows were actually doing. This charge reminded me that, perhaps more than anywhere else, it’s the people right in front of me that I need to pay better attention to. The first year out of college can be a tricky one when it comes to community. It feels as though I’m being held, freeze-frame, between friends back home and the puzzle of community I find myself earnestly putting together here in this new city. But regardless of whether it’s a new friend, a stranger on the street, or a relative I’ve known all my life, I am learning (maybe not for the first time) that the people in my life deserve much more than a glance. People are where my attention should be glued to and what I’m willing to be interrupted by.
But this task of looking doesn’t just apply to the people I’m meeting. It also extends to the place I’m getting to know: Chattanooga. As a Michigander, I can hardly explain how thrilling it is to be living in a place where the horizon is not flat (hooray for mountains)! Moving to a new city has also led me to realize that, if we’re lucky, the older we get, the bigger home gets. We tend to hold onto the places we know. But home is a funny thing in your early twenties. You feel caught between the push of adventure and the pull of arrival. Wherever home is for me someday, though, I want to be able to look at my place and see it for all that it is. And this is yet another way of looking– looking at our places– which the Fellows has been teaching me all about. Through countless conversations, nonprofit visits, and adventures throughout the city, I’ve started to see Chattanooga not just by its shininess and pep, but by its histories, colors, and hope-filled tensions, too. Places hold so much, and it’s been such a joy to start to see all that’s held here in Chattanooga.
Another place that I’ve been challenged to look more closely at this year is at myself. The cohort of seven that I’m a part of this year has reminded me that, like most things, the story of my own life is best when shared with others. This year, I’ve begun to unshelve stories of my life that have shaped who I am, who I hope to become, and who I would rather not admit I am. The Fellows is helping teach me how to look at myself a little more curiously and compassionately, while punctuating my story with God’s far greater story of redemption.
What I’m learning from all of this is that when we really look around, we start to see a bounty of stories appear. And while I can’t possibly know all the stories around me, I can certainly look for them more often. The more I do, the more I start to see those places “where heaven is peaking through” (as one of our teachers, Lane, puts it). From noticing the grass growing up through the cracks on the sidewalk, to the friendliness of my barista on a Saturday afternoon, I’ve been grateful for how the Fellows has helped me pay attention to the subtle stories of God all around. Maybe that’s the real power of looking well– to be reminded of the much, much bigger Story we’re all living in.