Sometimes, I think, it’s fun to read about the beginnings of a project in narrative rather than in abstract form. To that end, The Kairos happened both really quickly and really slowly, with a few moments that stand out particularly: some all a-glory and some less admirably.
One example of the latter involved a manifestation of deepest fears, in the convergence of Shel Silverstein’s whatif monsters and the Definition of Hell for the INFP Myers-Briggs Personality Type (which is not my personality type, but close). I was at the beautiful Bard College (see header photo) for a weeklong workshop on teaching writing, but in a less beautiful bare dorm room late at night wide-eyed with anxiety. What if no one reads our writing? What if I never have anything thoughtful or interesting to say for the entirety of the next year, and everyone thinks I’m pathetic and boring? What if people think we’re super evangelical Christian, and put us in a box and judge us? What if I only get ten likes on Facebook for a post that I’m promoting? Twenty? Thirty? What if…?????
I guess I got over it somehow.
There was also a good week or two when I was really, really jealous (in a constructive happy mostly not resentful way) of a friend I visited in England who’s doing really cool work in publishing as an editor, even buying books and whatnot. You know, it’s the other thing I could have done with an English major (besides teach youngsters) (ha). I love what I do, most all days, and I want to keep teaching literature in some capacity for the long run. But he did make me really, really miss writing and editing and being a part of the process of creating words with others, even if I only ever got to do it in a limited, amateur way. Thinking about it makes me constructive happy mostly not resentful jealous, again. I suspect our other writers feel much the same way about journal/blog writing (though perhaps more unjealous happily).
To use that as a “happy” segue: getting yeses from contributors, all very dear friends, particularly the last ‘yes’ (because for some reason I was stubbornly set on six as our perfect number), was a moment of all-things-coming-together aglory. If nothing else, I am ridiculously excited to write and be a part of a remote quasi-community with this excellent group of people. I’m also hopeful that this small project will be a training ground of sorts, where we practice sharing and writing about communing with God in the various facets of our lives: to culminate in more meaningful, impactful projects later on.
The friends that I really hold dearest to my heart with this project, though, I don’t think I’d venture to name. They are the friends and semi-acquaintances who so clearly seek after good, in the best and most meaningful sense of the word, that I can’t help wishing, wishing, over and over again, that they could meet Jesus because they would almost certainly be friends. I think of S, and E, and M, and J, and others. I know he cares, both for them and for all the things they care about: the stories, the social justice issues, the relationships, the search for knowledge in pursuit of a greater good. I’m pretty sure this doesn’t just go for me, but for all of the contributors here. For you, friends: we hope that you find something of the One who is truly good here, in our stories and writing.
Edit 8/31/15: It’s worth mentioning, I think, that all of us care deeply about engaging somehow, meaningfully, fumblingly, with our nation and world’s current events in our writing. Recently, it’s felt like a particularly grief-filled season of visible injustice and oppression as well as tragedy on many fronts, whether at home or abroad. We definitely don’t feel like we have all (or many) of the answers, but we’d certainly like to try—key word here is try—to know and speak truth about what’s around us. Although it’s not in this initial post, then, we do hope to be accountable to engaging with the world outside our bubbles.