So the summer is over. 10+ weeks of living and serving in Madison have wrapped up, and now I’m home in California beginning my new adventure and the new season that Jesus has called me into.
This summer was quite the season. It was hard. It was beautiful. It was messy, tense, fruitful, and it changed me. Amidst the process of decompressing and remembering the greatest joys, I would be at great fault if I failed to stress how this community was truly my joy this summer.
The city of Madison & the people in it loved me so well, and taught me countless lessons. I want to share a few of those lessons and stories here, both as a means of processing my exit from the community and as a “thank you” for all of the people in my life who loved me, encouraged, and prayed with me from a distance this summer. I am blessed to have you all.
Madison taught me that love is in the details.
Entering into this summer, there was a LOT to do and establish. Because Next Step had never had a site in Madison before, I got to initiate the relationships with many of our partners. I got to see them make the connection between the week-long trip the students took, and the longer-term positive impact that had on the community. I got to love them through the process of figuring things out, which mostly involved answering TONS of questions.
But Madison taught me that love is in the details. Through many encounters, and throughout all 10+ weeks, I saw it time and time again: while it may be easier to love in the big ways and even make big promises, if I am not loving in the smallest details and with the most intention possible, then I am not loving fully.
Love is asking the partner about how their up-and-coming disc golf career is going, instead of just asking about their weekend. Love is remembering to bring two water coolers to the park, so the community partner doesn’t have to stress over re-filling coolers. Love is working together with the gardener at an elementary school to research environmentally-friendly ways to clean paint brushes from other projects at the school, because that matters to her.
Love is in the details.
Madison taught me to love my struggle.
One of the close friends I made in the community this summer is a young man named Da’Mein. From the first day I met him, I knew he was a special person.
I don’t believe in sharing other people’s stories, because I truly think that everything Da’Mein shared with me about his life this summer is sacred and came from the special platform of friendship that the Lord provided. But, I will say that something Da’Mein always responded to the events of his life was this phrase, taught to him by his mom: “love your struggle“.
Da’Mein’s life, painted by the grace of God but also fill to the brim with every sort of challenge, and his story taught me the power of learning to love my own struggle. God used this summer to teach me how to live in the tension, and live there in love. Da’Mein showed Jesus to me by maintaining a Kingdom perspective despite his earthly circumstances.
Love your struggle.
Madison taught me to see, seek, and speak strengths.
Many days during the summer, I spent time at the Adult Day Center and worked at this puzzle with Larry, tucked away in the corner of the activity room. Day by day for the entire summer, Larry and other residents worked intently on this 1,000 piece puzzle.
At the end of the summer, when the puzzle was just about finished, we came to realize that we were missing a piece. Just one, out of the 1,000. I mentioned it to Larry and told him how I was disappointed. His response to me showed his great wisdom.
He said, “Alysha, too often people see life or other people the way that you just saw this puzzle. The first thing they notice is what is missing instead of focusing on what is there.”
His words and this conversation ring deep within my soul. How true this statement is, and how convicting. This summer, serving in the Adult Day Center, as well as other assisted living facilities, God broke down and bound up past hurts or fears in my heart about serving the elderly.
I was able to learn how to look at people, particularly the elderly, and see first what they do have and how they are strong before beginning to notice what may be missing.
I could go on for pages & days about my many precious interactions with people who are elderly this summer. It amazed me continually how saying something as simple as, “you look beautiful today!”, and truly meaning it, could light up their hearts and faces so clearly. It takes so little effort to speak strengths, but it makes such a distinct impact.
See, seek, and speak strengths.
Madison taught me how to genuinely and humbly collaborate.
Never in my life have I spent time in a place so full of diversity and difference as Madison is. With my role this summer came collaborating with over 20 partnerships, in addition to the team of 10 on our site, countless youth leaders and students, church members, and community members.
Needless to say, a lot of people were met this summer from all walks of life and all different backgrounds – and I got both the privilege and challenge to work at collaborating with all of these moving parts to help facilitate the best experiences all-around.
“Collaboration” is something we did a lot in school, but quite frankly most of the people in my classes were so much like me that this kind of teamwork took little to no effort. In the Madison, community, however, the great diversity and difference created countless learning experiences for me to realize what collaboration can look like in a different form.
It looks like being genuine. I would describe this, also, as being up-front, honest, having integrity, and following through on commitments. If someone doesn’t see you as genuine, they won’t want to partner with you.
It also looks like being humble, and not attempting to impose my own expectations or values upon the collaborative or the community. I love Jesus, but not everyone does. I come from a white, middle-class background in the States, but not everyone does. Entering collaboration with humility creates a space where people feel safe and like they can be vulnerable – and from what I’ve found this summer, that kind of space is where the real magic of communal brainstorming happens.
I am so thankful for the many people I sat around a table with, stood in the park talking to, or sent probably hundreds of emails to. Every one of our community partners in Madison was amazing, and helped develop me so much – they taught me so much. I am thankful for one of the biggest lessons.
Genuinely and humbly collaborate.
Madison taught me that we look like what we are passionate about.
One Saturday, I saw this man at the Madison Farmer’s Market. There is no doubt in the mind of anyone who sees him that he is passionate about honeybees and honey. Everything he said to me in our conversation pointed me back to his passion, and his passion was contagious. It wasn’t until I met someone so passionate about honey that I had any interest at all in the topic.
Living and serving in Madison with many passionate and beautiful people like the man above taught me that we look like the things we are passionate about. This was a Kin-dom challenge for me – am I so passionate about Jesus that it shows?
You look like what you are passionate about.
Madison taught me how to trust the process.
Most of the best things in life don’t happen overnight, but patience has almost always been hard for me to live in.
Tom Parslow, a retired farmer who now oversees food pantry gardens in Madison, taught me one day this summer about what deep faith it takes to live off the land.
For every plant, there is something called a germination period – the length of time it takes the plant to go from seed alone to sprout. It’s not until seeds germinate that you can begin to see it’s growth, but even then there are some plants that you hardly see any of its appearance at all until you harvest it, usually months after you plant it.
You can do everything to prepare the soil, plant the seeds in the right placement, water them well, and pluck weeds – but you have to trust the process. There are simply some things that are beyond our ability to control, and we can never be certain that everything we plant will be able to be harvested. But Tom spoke great wisdom into my life when he said this:
“You don’t plant a crop with a quantity of harvest in mind. You don’t think about the finished product until you are there. You plant, and you weed, and you water; simply because it is what the earth is asking for. I could plant 10,000 soy beans and every one of them could die before the harvest, but I don’t count that a failure. Those dead beans may have very well worked themselves to death contributing to a healthy chemistry of the soil. I can use them now as compost to bring new plants to life. And I can have this hopeful perspective in the garden, even about death. Why? It was never about the harvest. It was always about trusting what God will do with the earth that belongs to God.”
Trust the process.
Madison taught me that how you do something is so much more important than what you do, every time.
There were many moments this summer that the community asked our staff or our students to help out with things that didn’t make a lot of sense to us when we first heard it. Things that meant a lot to the community because of their history, their vision, their dreams – things we didn’t always quite get at first glance, coming in from a different background.
By serving the community in doing and helping with what THEY desired, and striving to keep this at the forefront of every project we did, I got to see how much the people of the community valued the contribution.
The people of Madison would have rather me joyfully & imperfectly completed a task they asked of me, than pridefully and perfectly completed a task they didn’t ask for or feel they needed done.
This is the beauty of empowerment, humility, and listening first when entering a community. I am so thankful for people like Pastor Josh Miler, who challenged me to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus and my heart bound closely to God as I chose my attitude and leadership style this summer. Josh exemplifies Jesus’ light in his community every day, and gave me countless opportunities to remember a valuable lesson.
How you do something trumps what you actually do, every time.
And I could go on & on.
This summer was full of endless opportunities to lean, grow, and serve. I spent weeks looking for Jesus in each moment – and oh man, did I find Him there. He is so present in the vibrant, challenging, beautiful, paradoxical, unified, diverse city of Madison.
I am thankful for the piece of my heart that will always belong to this place and these people.
august laperche 