The Second Half

Howdy y'all! I'm officially back in full swing in Houston. I've been sitting on this post for a week now, unsure whether to hit post or not. Yet, I promised an honest look at a JV year, with real and raw reflections, so here it is.

01/04/2022

Happy New Year! I hope that you and those that you love have had a grace-filled and gentle start to this year. I’m writing from sunny Florida with my family, where I have been enjoying a much needed break from the hustle and bustle of Houston. Though I’m ready to head back to work, this time away has given me the time and distance to take a breath and get some perspective.

I knew JVC was not going to be easy. I knew that I signed up for a challenge both in community and at work. I knew that I had a lot to learn. November and December though taught me that knowing and accepting are very different things.

November and December were beautiful in so many ways! They were also really hard. A mentor of mine taught me in college “If it’s important, say it twice” so I’ll say it again: the past two months have been really freaking hard. Some of that hard is because of work. I’m finding that the more I learn and the more I know, the more I panic and the less adequate I feel. It is the strangest sensation, and one that is super foreign to me. I’m used to things getting easier the more I practice them.

And some things (like explaining the process, speaking in Spanish, small talk with my co-workers) has gotten easier. Even outside of work, things like commuting to and from work, packing a lunch, and being out of the house for the majority of the day have become as instinctive as breathing. However, I’m learning every day that there are a lot more things that I still have to learn.

The biggest thing I’m finding though is that I don’t know (at least as well as I thought I did) how to love. Jesus clearly states in Mark 12:31 that the second commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself”. JVC (and years of service in general) are trained to have people focus on the first 3 words of that phrase.

I thought I knew what this commandment meant. I also thought I was good at it. When it comes to the first 3 words, I’d argue that I am.

But context matters. November and December knocked me over the head with a 2 by 4 because I can’t live that phrase well if I only internalize and act upon the first 3 words. I need to follow the full 5 word instruction.

Second halves matter. “As yourself” matters in this commandment. It is the “as yourself” that I don’t have a good grasp on.

If I’m loving my neighbor as myself, I cannot belittle myself. If I’m loving my neighbor as myself, I can’t run on 5 hours of sleep and pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion trying to “do enough”, then kick myself for not doing enough. I can’t think that I am not worth it. I can’t act like I am unlovable. I can’t push people away from me. I can’t try to please everyone. November and December taught me that if I was loving my neighbor the way I was loving me, I wouldn’t be loving my neighbor at all. I would be condemning them, pushing them to the brink, and not allowing them to thrive.

And yes, that’s a really tough pill to swallow. I’ve found that most of my inability to love myself boils down to the word “enough”.

When I started my Poetry month challenge, this was the first thing I wrote down:

On doing enough

There comes a point

where we recognize

that all truths

contain lies

& these lies

don’t make the truth less

true.

I’m learning that

“You’re doing enough”

is bullshit

and complete truth.

All in the same breath.

A lie that lulls me

into complacency

a truth that makes

continuing possible.

I’ve found myself fixated on the first half of this ending: “a lie that lulls me into complacency”. Yet, there is also a truth here that makes continuing possible. This possibility, this second half, is what my heart is being stubbornly drawn towards in this season.

A dear classmate of mine introduced me to two different words in two different languages, both meaning enough.

Define: chega. Origin: Portuguese. Enough suffering. Stop. Synonyms: ¡Basta! Cut it out!

Looking back on many of my difficult moments in November and December, I am able to see that they have been full of “chega”. I internally jump to it, giving in when my heart lashes out at the immigration system, JVC, my housemates, my coworkers, and myself. Enough hard! Enough! Stop everything! Everything is awful. You are not doing enough. Chega.

But there is another word.

Define: Dayenu. Origin: Hebrew. Part of a traditional Passover song. As my classmate Rachel states, Dayenu means: “enough. Not enough suffering, as I long thought it meant, but enough blessings, bestowed by God—enough, in gratitude… enough beauty; enough blessings; enough life.”

When I help someone send one application, when I laugh in the kitchen, when I stand in awe of Christmas lights, when I see two families tithe time together, when I share sacred conversation with coworkers who are becoming friends, when I look in the mirror and see the girl I’ve fought so hard to become. Enough. It is enough. Here, in this moment, with these people, in this capacity. I am enough. Dayenu.

Chega. Dayenu. Enough. These 3 words encapsulate the both/and that I am holding this year. Yet, in order to love myself, I need to put down my sword of Chega and pick up my plowshare of Dayenu. I need to love me, in all of my enoughness. This will allow me to love my neighbor, my housemate, my client the way that they need to be loved. The way I’m called to love them.

So, in this second half, I’m committing to following the full instructions. To love my neighbor as myself, not ignoring the chega, but leaning into to dayenu. Allowing my living and my loving to be enough.

Love,

Gabriela