Diaries from Detroit, vol. 7: Moving On, Never Gone

It’s difficult to collect my thoughts here at the end of this experience. Being back in Little Rock, Arkansas, it’s difficult to think that it’s only been about 7 weeks since we were here for training. I am a changed person—changed by love, community, faith, and an overwhelming sense of peace that had fallen over me in Detroit. Stepping out of my City of Love and into the rest of the country and world with all its problems, shortfalls, insecurities, and misunderstandings is like not knowing the ground under me in soil my shoes have trampled many times before.

There are emotions here that are more than I’m willing to share on this blog. But if we meet for lunch or sit down for coffee I’d be more than happy to discuss my time here and converse over all the amazing things that have happened to me, to Detroit, and to the people I know there.

Peace and Love, forever and always.

Diaries from Detroit, vol. 6: Change and Community

We're rounding the last corner of our time here in Detroit. In some ways, I feel that I am just getting started; just getting to become a part of the community here and feel that I have a place and a position to do things for this community. But at the same time I'm starting to realize just how much is changing in me personally, in the church I work at, and in this community.

This past week was a rough one. The heat index was well beyond 100 degrees, and without air conditioning in our house, I've barely had a decent night's sleep all week. The kids at the day camp were raucous and whinny, making it hard to keep a positive attitude with them. I was in a funk of missing home, missing the people and the places, and wanting badly to be swimming with family, or hiking with friends, or just seeing the Philadelphia or New York skyline.

But alas, "All Things Must Pass" fell into my mind as I saw things changing, as I looked back and saw difference from before, as I looked forward and saw hope for things to come. I was struck with positivity, despite the heat and the longing, and my heart smiled as I went into the final day of the camp for the week. With this new positive energy, I noticed better attitudes from the kids, I more easily coped with the heat, I had a great phone call from home, and I felt once again at peace.

All along I have wondered what effect the day camp really has on this community. Gradually I came to accept it and understand that I was doing good work through positive feedback from the parents and grandparents, but I still wondered what effect it might have on the larger community. Truth be told, only time will tell what this camp does for this church and this community. It depends on whether the camp has a second season next summer, if it ends up bringing families into the church, or if it has a continued and lasting positive impact on the children and their families. But this past week I learned of the extreme struggles this church, which I have come to love in the past few weeks, has experienced in the last ten years. Due to massive internal difficulties and disputes, the church lost 1400 people. It was so low down that it had considered closing its doors. But the resilience and efforts of a few people faithful to the church kept it going. It has lived on and really turned around since its struggles, having added several ministries that benefit the congregation and the community a great deal. But it has yet to reach out to a younger population or families. This day camp is the first time that children have been present in this church en masse in about ten years. To the congregation, it's practically a miracle. To be a part of this effort is humbling, and having a true scope of the work we're doing has shaken me.

Another worry of mine when I first arrived was that the brief window in which I'm here is not enough to truly become a part of a community. I never thought my introverted personality could quickly assert myself into an entirely new place. But I was so wrong. I feel tied to this community already. I feel a responsibility towards it, and a deep love and care for it. I have met some incredibly loving and wonderful people here and have in turn been accepted and loved by so many more.

Last Sunday, I was asked to lead worship at Metro UMC. Andrew, the great organist and music director here that I have come to admire so much, was on leave and asked me to lead worship-- not just one or two songs, but the entire thing. It was a daunting task, but it was incredibly humbling to be asked to do this. I practiced intently the nine new hymns I had to learn before Sunday, and came to enjoy them thoroughly. Andrew also hired a professional singer to perform with me. Meeting with him the Friday before the service was fantastic. I ended up singing tenor while he sang bass, and I got chills as we practiced these beautiful hymns in such a spectacular space. Sunday, the congregation took the change from a massive pipe organ to two singers and an acoustic guitar quite well. I worried that the elderly congregation would not be open to the change, but they took it with grace and it ended up being a beautiful and unique worship experience. So many of my worries in this experience have turned out to not be issues at all.

Beyond the Metro church community, I was asked to perform at St. Peter's Episcopal Church "Festival for the Arts" on Friday night. The church has close ties to the Jeanie Wylie Community in which I live, which is how I got involved with Friday night's fundraiser. It ended up being the first cool evening all week, yet the un-air conditioned sanctuary was blistering. Nevertheless, a full house packed in for the festival, which featured about a dozen artists including myself. There were some really fantastic performances from poets, singers, and players with an eclectic sound to each of them. Again, it was humbling to perform a set along side seasoned artists. I was by far the youngest player there, but I was shocked to hear from many in attendance how much they enjoyed my set. It was an interesting night in how the heat and the pressure of performing in front of an entirely new audience seemed to take every thing out of me; wring me out completely dry, and yet the love of the community there and the beauty of the art shared sustained me through the struggle.

All this is to say that there have been forces beyond my own that have allowed me to achieve more than I ever thought possible in my time here. Reflection on what's happened here has brought me to tears and brought me to my knees. The work of the holy spirit has been slow, but it is powerful and full of light and beauty.

Diaries from Detroit, vol. 5: Flying

If this experience has taught me anything its to grab hold of or go after every opportunity that comes your way. Being proactive towards the things that excite you and inspire you is the only way to really make a set time in your life truly an experience.

Last week, one of our fellow interns invited a pilot friend of her's to come and speak to the kids at the day camp about flying. That night, I jokingly broached the topic and asked if he would take us flying, knowing that I actually was quite serious. Nino called Brian, the pilot, right then and set up a date for him to take us up. Had I not been forthright with my desires, I would have missed a fantastic opportunity.

So Sunday night, right around sunset, we arrived at a small municipal airport in Canton, MI to meet Brian and the Cessna 172 he had prepared to take us up in. He walked us through the pre-flight checks, and offered me the co-pilot's seat. With my head set on, he narrated the pre-take off preparations and filled us in on the flight plan. With the click of a switch, the runway lights were turned on and he pushed the throttle forward.

Soon enough we were in the air watching the city lights go on as the sun's light went down. He followed I-96 east towards downtown Detroit, pointing out landmarks along the way. It was incredible to see the dead-straight Midwestern street grids extend as far as the eye could see. We approached the Detroit skyline, and he began maneuvers that would take us on a loop around the skyscrapers twice while avoiding the Canadian border along the Detroit River. We flew south to do a figure-8, and circle around the skyline on the other side of the aircraft. The buildings shimmered as the street-light reflected off of different windows, changing fast against our high speed.

We banked left and headed back east towards Canton. Once we left Detroit Metro Airspace, Brian pulled his hands of the control wheel and asked over the radio if I wanted to take over. After wetting my pants, I excitedly agreed and nervously took the controls. I followed I-96 West, following the street lights and keeping my altitude at 2,500 feet. I have no idea how long I had the controls; whatever time it took to get from Detroit airspace to within site of the the field in Canton.

Brian re-took the controls and asked if we were all willing to go out over the woods and do some aerobatic maneuvers. We happily agreed, and Brian began careful maneuvers to ensure the airspace around us was clear. Once he was sure there was no one around, he banked hard to the right, pulling up to 2 Gs. He straightened out, and did the same to the left, and again to the right. I have to say that this trackless roller coaster is one of the coolest thing I've ever experienced. He turned around to regain his bearings and caught site of the airport. He switched his radio and began landing procedures.

Safely on the ground, I was beside myself with excitement and a strong desire to begin flight lessons. Alas, this dream may have to wait, but I am so thankful for the incredible gift that Brian gave us. This experience reminds me of the importance of spontaneity, good friends, and a proactive and adventurous attitude.

Diaries from Detroit, vol. 4: The Deserted City

There's a strange pull between normalcy and desperation in Detroit. As I sit and write this on the front porch of my house, about a seventy year-old 2 level duplex split horizontally, the neighborhood is quiet, quaint, and seems healthy. It could be anywhere in America, really. An old-growth pine tree shelters my porch and the one above me. I rock gently in a cool breeze this lazy summer afternoon on a white hanging bench. Neighbors walk by, they're friendly and say hello. Cars packed with families and friends drive slowly by. But if I were to take a quick walk around the block, I would find a very different scene. As I look down the street, I see an empty lot covered in tall, uncut grass. Across the way, an entire block's length of street has only one occupied house. The house on the corner has not a single window unbroken. Some pictures and posters still hang on the walls, flapping in the breeze. Trash blows out from under the fallen front porch when the breeze picks up. Some streets in Detroit hardly leave a trace of the first-world nation they once stood proudly in. Even on my street, the unlit windows of nighttime reveal the empty or abandoned houses. After witnessing a shooting the other night, sporadic pops and bangs startle me as I wonder whether they are fireworks or gunshots, despite being the night before Independence Day.

The wide-spread layout of the city means that anyone in Motown without a car is stranded. There's no mass transit to speak of. The small bus system that does exist is about as reliable as a rain storm in the desert. The most walkable places from my neighborhood are the nightclubs that line Michigan Ave.

Downtown, the scene is eerie. Abandoned lots sit between towering skyscrapers. Many of those skyscrapers are entirely abandoned themselves, standing in a state of ruin. Some of the great monuments of this city, including the Michigan Central Station, are symbols of a once-great civilization in the likes of the Colosseum and the Parthenon.

There is a desperate and ever-present desire for hope in this city. I'd like to think that it is something I am working towards this summer, but I fear my efforts are only going so far. Some places in this city remind me of scenes of New Orleans after Katrina, but its havoc was wreaked by the slow decay of time, so it lacks the sense of national attention.

I have found incredible communities of love here, and groups of people passionately dedicated to this city's revival. But its hard to imagine how this current trajectory could really salvage this place. There needs to be more-- more action, more love, more passion, more community, more growth, more peace. This city needs salvation.

Diaries from Detroit, vol. 3: Working in a Masterpiece

My internship in Detroit is proving to be just about perfect. With my musical soul thriving, the architect in me is jumping for joy. We hold the Summer Day Camp in Metropolitan UMC, which is a remarkable Neo-Gothic structure in fantastic condition-- and I have the run of the place. Its like a dream come true.

The building is massive. It has a full-size gymnasium, a kitchen and dining room that can feed about 150, a grand parlor (furnished in the original 1920s decor) with two fireplaces, a library, a chapel, an auditorium that seats 1500, a sanctuary that seats about 3000, classrooms and offices to boot, and beautiful vaulted stone corridors with hand-painted plaster walls. The 2nd Floor Corridor has niches in which three murals are painted with scenes integral to the creation of the Methodist Church- "The Dawn of the Reformation," "John Wesley Preaching on His Father's Tomb," and "Francis Asbury, Apostle of the Long Trail," all by artist George Boget.

The South Stairs are contained within the South Tower of the church, situated in the back left corner of the sanctuary. They lead to the small chapel on the second floor, a suite and balcony access on the third floor, and then the tower above. I had a chance to explore the tower the other day with the master key. On the first floor of the tower is a radio broadcast room (long since disused) and the "Buffalo Room." I unlocked the door to the mysterious room and found an incredible double-height room with detailed wood paneling and a full height brick fireplace on which is mounted the head of a buffalo. Above the entrance on the second floor is a balcony looking into the room. All windows are clerestory, so light pours in from above. The room is now used for storage and is slightly eerie. I walked through to the opposite corner and found another door. I slowly opened it and flicked on the light switch to find the attic space between the gothic-vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary and the steel truss and concrete roof over the church. I followed a stair case built directly on the vaulted roof. I was so impressed to discover that it was a true stone vault- not plaster suspended from a steel structure. It was an honest Gothic structure, only replacing traditional wooden trusses with steel (likely a reaction to the fire that destroyed the congregation's previous home in 1916). I climbed out of there and continued up the stairs in the tower-- now a small, winding steel structure between massive stone walls. On the next level is a door leading to the room that overlooks the Buffalo Room. This room also has a door to an outdoor balcony in the tower-- unfortunately I did not have a key for that. One more flight up, and a door to the bell loft and another large classroom that covers the rest of the tower not used by the bell loft. Two more flights up from there and there is a door to the tower's roof-- if only I had the key I'm sure I would discover a 360 view of Detroit.

I have been fascinated by this building and am trying to share my enthusiasm with the children. I created a scavenger hunt for them to find the hidden symbols worked into the paintings, tiles, and woodwork of the walls, ceiling, floor, and furniture. I feel like every day I discover something new about this building. I have never been so excited to go to work every day just to see the place its in. In my enthusiasm, one of the older church ladies gave me a copy of a commemorative book that was given out to the congregation at the building's completion in 1926. In it is a beautiful description of the building that I'd like to share:

Beauty of line, ruggedness, and practical interior arrangements designed to yield a maximum of service in the religious, educational and community work of the church, are combined in the architecture of the Metropolitan edifice.

Its plain but impressive exterior follows the modern English Gothic style. Its deep-set walls of granite are built to stand through centuries. The interior, restful to the eye and the spirit, is laid out to meet effectively every demand made by the widespread activities of the modern city church.

A member of the congregation, Mr. W.E.N. Hunter, is the architect...

Set in the ample grounds, a whole city block in width, the massive walls, buttressed and towered, are of ashlar granite, from quarries near Plymouth, Mass. There the stratification of the rock runs perpendicularly, and the varied coloration has been carried downward into the fiber of the stone by centuries of seepage to the crevices. The stone blocks, of many dimensions and shades-- 52,000 in number, have been laid so as to give ever-changing variety of color.

Grey Ohio sandstone forms the facing and trimming on the deeply recessed doorways and windows. Within, the floors of corridors and the stair treads are of differently colored tile; the floors of aisles in the church and chapel are of slate with insets of tile in traditional or symbolic designs.

The church is without wood or timber or other inflammable material in its construction. Wooden floors are laid in the recreation room and in some of the social rooms, biut these are based on an underflooring of concrete.

From deep concrete foundations the building rises to a height of nine ordinary stories. A fire might rage through the pile, consume furniture, papers, books, and melt some of the metal in the roof and pipes, but it would leave the structure itself, the concrete, the girders, the steel lath, and the slate, intact.

The external mass of the pile, all walls and concrete, centers in the great tower on the south, rising 105 feet, but so massively constructed and so resting on the broader masses beneath that the height is not immediately sensed.

The tower is 40 by 40 feet, there is space for the installation of a carillon-- 45 bells. Yet the tower is not merely a belfry, or a colossal ornamentation. The stories below the belfry are fitted up as classrooms.

Thus throughout the whole construction, the dignity of architectural tradition is maintained while the ends of modern usefulness are faithfully served...

This church was the largest Methodist Church in the world in the 1930s and 40s. Its congregation steeply declined after the Detroit riots of the 1970s, but despite that and the recent depression, the church still thrives with a good size congregation that mixes a range of classes and races. I'm sure I will blog more about it as I learn, discover, and explore more of it.

More pictures can be found in my flickr set for Metro UMC.

Journal: I am NOT a Missionary

I am NOT a missionary. I do not come loaded with an agenda. I do not propose to know what's best for the community I have been appointed to serve. I am partaking in a service experience, where I will be a servant to my new community in Detroit. I am working towards justice, not for charity. I approach this with the understanding that, although I may give my all to this community in a spirit of humility and grace, I can and will still learn more from those I serve than I can ever teach to them.

These are the lessons I have learned and been reminded of today. This is the spirit in which I can hope to approach my service role in Detroit. With the help of my friends and family and the assistance of the support network I am building in Little Rock, combined with an open heart, a listening ear, and a prayerful attitude, I can be a part of great things this summer.

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A New Adventure Begins

In the coming weeks, this blog will change its tone slightly as it becomes a journal of my experiences at a summer internship in Detroit, Michigan. I will be there as an intern with the General Board of Global Ministry (part of the United Methodist Church), working with Young Leaders Initiative on their summer day camp program for children in the neighborhoods of Detroit. Its a different direction from architecture, but not a new direction for me (see Feb 2010 posting "Stories from the Pine Ridge").

I look forward to living in community with fellow interns, exploring a city I've never seen, and becoming a part of an exciting rejuvenation of a city that has seen so much hardship. My hope is that this experience breathes a fresh breath of life into me that fills me with the energy and excitement to be a productive component of my new community, and that continues to energize me as I head back to my community in Brooklyn in the fall.

Stay tuned for stories from training in Little Rock, Arkansas, musings on my experience of a new city, and the work of Young Leaders Initiative in Detroit.