Leadership Spotlight: CIC Students

     As the Program Coordinator for the Center for Digital Inclusion and Technology (CDIT), I live “behind-the-scenes.” Because I work more on the administrative end, I don’t have as much face-to-face contact with students as others in our department do. Although this is the case, I am intentional in meeting our students—adults, teens, kids—all coming to our building to learn skill sets on how to navigate and create on a computer.

     Out of all of our student demographics, it is the adults who teach me the most. I frequently walk by our computer classroom and see faces turned attentively towards the Computer and Internet Class (CIC) instructor, K.B., as he walks the class through making flyers on Microsoft Word or learning techniques in Microsoft Excel. This deep yearning to learn and a thirst for knowledge is an attitude I have seen reflected in the students of CIC from the time they first call me to sign up for the class, to the day that they graduate.

     I have such a deep admiration and respect for our adult students.  Many are older, and haven’t had prior computer training. I’ve had numerous calls with prospective students where they have very honestly stated that they have little knowledge with navigating computers—some not even having an email address. For many, classes with K.B., our instructor, provide an opportunity to have a community to journey with in the process of learning skill sets on computers. To watch the determination and commitment of these adults as they journey through the course is incredible. I aspire to live out my commitments with the same kind of tenacity that I have seen these adults display.

     I met a woman who is a leader in her church who wanted to learn how to make flyers to aid in advertising her church’s community outreach events (her final project flyer was for a Free Clothing Giveaway they were actually hosting). I met a man who yearns to take the skill sets he learns in the CIC class and help others in his community learn how to use the computer. Yet another woman is in the CIC class to gain basic knowledge so she can put on her resume that she has experience in Microsoft Excel. Other adult students yearn to learn skill sets so that they can navigate the computer on their own, this being motivation in and of itself. One woman works at 4:00am and still goes to class from 6:00-8:00pm that very same evening because she wants to learn these skill sets. That is incredible. Absolutely incredible. 

     Two weeks ago, we welcomed our CIC Spring 2015 students during orientation. I introduced myself to the class, being welcomed by familiar faces from the Fall that will be continuing to the next level of classes, and new faces of people I have yet to meet.

     As this Mission Year continues, I am grateful for this season where my story intertwines with so many dedicated students at the People's Emergency Center who are teaching me that education and learning is an empowering, life-long journey.

To learn more about the Center for Digital Inclusion and Technology: http://www.cditech.org/

To support me in this Mission Year: https://missionyear.thankyou4caring.org/ambercullen

We are.

There is freedom dancing in our bones.

Liberation in our pores.

A sacred samba sizzling in our souls.

March on, my sister, march on.

We’re heading to the Promise Land.

Walk with me, my sister.

Weave your story into mine.

Our narratives can hold one another up

As this oppressive citadel is remolded.

Drums.

And singing.

Sweet singing.

“We are. We are.”

Hand in hand.

We march on.

Together.

There is freedom dancing in our bones.

Sweet freedom.

Our hands stretch to the sky.

Hands that create wonders.

Hands that mold and make.

Hands that challenge.

Here begins our dance.

“We are. We are.”

We flourish. We march.

We are.

Women.

Bare

Breath rattles in these lungs,

Still going and going

The monotonous accompaniment of being.

Sweet air crisp on my bare shoulder

Leading me to the fragility of my soul, my God

How

A break in the lament of our lives

We pause to shift our eyes

To what

To where

To whom

(Who cares?)

You care.

Are You—

There?

Sweet Ecclesiastes,

My soul wrestles bare beneath these crisp skies

Hazel eyes grasping forward clinging to air

But falling there.

Dirt heckling into pores unspoken

My God “us” is so broken

Why

You will not leave me here in my tender vulnerabilities--

You are with me.

I still question how Your wisdom is bigger than what I see, Love.

I question if Trust is illogical.

It is.

The crisp air through my webbed palms--

When will all be set right?

When will women dance in freedom?

When will all be free and flourishing?

When will we celebrate one another--together?

Love, when?

Lead us to the celebration here and now.

Lead us to a Freedom Song.

Lead us to You.

Breath rattles in these lungs,

Still going and going

The monotonous accompaniment of being.

Sweet air crisp on our bare shoulders

Leading us to the fragility of our souls, our God

How

Make a Statement

Going to the library in Akron was a statement.

In Philadelphia and in Mission Year, I am constantly surrounded by new voices in my community, house, workplace, and church. These voices challenge me to view the world differently, to consider different perspectives in making decisions, to understand that I am part of a larger whole.

Going to the library in Akron was a statement.

In Akron, I am predominately surrounded by voices of people who look like me, have similar backgrounds to me—we tend to view the world in similar ways. Although there are pockets of challenge spoken into my life, a majority of my interactions in my hometown affirm the cultural position I hold rather than speak to it in truth and love.

I want to be challenged.

So I went to the library.

There I found voices—hundreds of voices—of people of all backgrounds and cultures who are asking questions. I found people of great spiritual commitment who ask the question I'm asking “What does it look like to love God and love people?”—César Chávez, Mother Teresa, Thomas Merton.

*  *  *

César Chávez, Latino leader and organizer, what does it look like to live into your words regarding organizing? “[I]n a nutshell, what do we want the Church to do? We don’t ask for more cathedrals. We don’t ask for bigger churches or fine gifts. We ask for its presence with us, besides us, as Christ among us. We ask the Church to sacrifice with the people for social change, for justice, and for love of brother. We don’t ask for words. We ask for deeds. We don’t ask for paternalism. We ask for servant hood.” I’m intrigued.

Thomas Merton, your prophetic voice spoke into the truth of your time. I see that you lived a life committed to your time. “To choose the world is to choose to do the work I am capable of doing, in collaboration with my brother and sister, to make the world better, more free, more just, more livable, more human.” I also see that you live a life deeply committed to your God. As one living in faith and service, your words challenge and encourage me to keep on keepin’ on. I’m eager to continue learning from you.

Mother Teresa, the way you affirm the dignity in all is beautiful to me. You love recklessly, and freely, all in what I perceive to be obedience to Jesus. I don’t know quite what to make of your words, but there is something in your speech that draws me in to asking questions—questions I can’t quite put into words yet. 

*  *  *

I found a book about the religious history of African Americans—I want to learn. I found a book on African Saints (Saints, Martyrs, and Holy People from the Continent of Africa)—educate me on the lives of the bold and beautiful on a continent where the media presents a very broad picture of “pity.” I found a book on Afrocentric sermons, sermons that speak to something deeper in my soul—empowerment and beauty.

In a yearning to open myself up to different cultures and ways of interacting with people, I picked up a book on West African folk tales. I heard The Tortoise and the Hare growing up, what have other children heard? I picked up a book about the Apache people in North America—a photojournalist (respectfully and beautifully) entering into their sacred ceremony as young Apache women enter womanhood. I’m learning a lot not only from the Apache people, but from the photojournalist who affirms the dignity in the people and will not exploit through photography. I picked up a book on Native American Wisdom, and found myself confronted with critiques on “the white man.” I wept with anger at the near genocide of many tribes of people done at the hands of my Euro-American ancestors. How can one move forward? (And by one I mean “I” and “we” and all in-between.)

Going to the library in Akron was a statement of my commitment to life-long learning and growth.

I am committed to listening to and being challenged/taught by marginalized voices.

I am committed to encouraging others on towards doing the same.

I am committed to doing so with the knowledge that by listening to others and considering different perspectives, it changes me (and us).

I see listening as a means to meet people in their own cultural contexts. When I meet someone where they’re at, I see that what I once thought was anger is actually hurt manifested as anger, what I once thought was control is actually fear manifested as control. Humanizing “the other” and learning from them (whoever “the other” is), I believe is one of the greatest tools towards conflict transformation, reconciliation, mutual respect, and peace.

I am committed to living into the loving act of active listening among people groups for the rest of my life. 

Let my life be the proof.

What are you reading? Who are you listening to? Who is challenging you? What statement are you making?

Let’s talk about it!

Prayer 11/16

Jesus, as you allow me to see,
Please protect me in the seeing.
Please protect me in the understanding.
Please hold me in the revelation.
I depend on you to be the strength of my bones.

Jesus, as you guide me in interactions with others,
Let your words be mine.
Let me speak when you would speak, and remain silent when you would
remain silent.
Let love and reconciliation be the end, and grace the means.

Thank you, Jesus, for Your Sovereignty above all.
Thank you for your faithfulness in the day to day.
Thank you for your revelations trusted to my soul.
Thank you for liberating me from bondage.

Help us to abide in You as Truth.
(We thirst.)

Brother

I cannot unsee his face
and the way he gulped his purchased coffee like it was water after the drought,
his eyes bulging and back hunched.
In the midst of this hostile individuality of this “we're put
together” coffee shop,
His vulnerability water to my soul
I don't know your story, brother,
But I pray that this day finds you well.
I pray blessings on your life, and that no matter where you go that you
would know your value.
I pray that you would be seen.
I pray that you would rest in your belovedness gifted by Our Creator.
I pray that you would find rest.
I pray that your bones would be strong to sustain you daily.
I pray that gifts given would be empowering to you.
I pray peace on your life.
I pray for freedom for your soul.
Brother, be well.

In-Between (Art Doesn't Need a Reason)

Maybe if you caress my soul with your words it'll be alright.
It'll be alright.
Maybe if we say all will be well it be alright
It'll be alright.
It'll be alright.
I don't know what the moon holds but I know that your smile holds stars in align
In time.
In time.

Tell me there's a dance in tune with this song.
Tell me that this dirt is made for romance.
Tell me that all will be well
In time.
In time.

(A samba is a sad excuse for a love song
And your hands still breathe into mine
Day after day.)

What are we clinging to?
One another, for fear that we will fall and burn
Into the sun
(In time.
In time.)