“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

—Mary Oliver

WHAT’S GOOD

Thrift Pop-Up on May 30th

One Another Coffee is hosting its second thrift pop-up of the year on Saturday, May 30, from 9 AM - 1 PM in the Sunset Ridge Church Fellowship Hall. All proceeds from the thrift pop-up will benefit Nuevos Vecinos , and a portion of coffee sales that day will also be donated to the local non-profit.

Cultivated Community

Elizabeth Stephens, Managing Director, Sunset Ridge Church & Collective

On July 7th, 2009, I sat on two crumbling concrete steps and looked up at the sky. It was clear, blue, unhindered by buildings, telephone poles, or wires. It was quiet. No cars whizzing by. No planes flying overhead. I could only hear my own breath. I felt like the whole planet was mine and, in a way, in that moment, I suppose it was.

Have you ever had a moment like that?

And then I heard it—the gentle chanting of women’s voices. All in unison. No instruments holding the notes together. Just something innate and human.

I remember thinking to myself, I feel so far from home, but at home at the same time.

In part because I was so far from home—the furthest I had ever been. Nearly 9,000 miles away, in a small village called Goli, Uganda.

There was no electricity. No running water. Most of the buildings were made of mud and salvaged materials. There were very few structures at all, aside from the one with the crumbling steps where I sat.

The voices drifting through the air like tributaries weaving through a river belonged to the women of the Women’s Vocational Training Center in the Nebbi region. What began as 30 women—hesitant to gather and create because they were “too busy cooking for their families and tending their gardens”—slowly became something more. They met every two weeks, learned the trade of needlepoint, and created tapestries that would help sustain their families.

Over time, the program grew to 650 women. Relationships were forged. Sustainable entrepreneurship was discovered. A sense of belonging cultivated from the work of community.

I had traveled to Uganda to learn how they built a business and a deep sense of belonging at the same time.

Last week, I lay on the concrete floor of the Charis Park Pavilion, just three miles from my house, one hand on my heart and the other on my chest. I was at sunrise yoga with eight other people—some friends, some strangers.

I looked up and watched the first strands of sunlight break through the branches overhead. I heard birds, the gentle rumble of a car engine, my own breath. I thought about the park and everything that had unfolded there the morning before at the market. Relationships forged. Community cultivated. Sustainability and entrepreneurship on display.

Then I heard the church bells chime, signaling the start of a new hour, and I thought about the women and their voices 9,000 miles away.

I understand my place in the world more deeply now.

How church bells and singing voices call something awake in me. How taking a moment to look up at the sky—hindered or unhindered—reminds me that someone else, somewhere on the other side of the world, might be doing the very same thing. How strangers brought together around a common need or shared hope can become friends who create lasting impact.

I took a deep breath in and remembered taking a similar breath 17 years ago on the other side of the world.

And once again, I felt like the whole planet was mine.

And in a way, I think it is.

But not in the sense that it belongs to me, but in the sense that I belong to it. That we belong to one another. That the threads connecting us—across neighborhoods, cultures, languages, and landscapes—are far more real than the things that distract us.

Crumbling, concrete steps; a park; tapestries; singing voices drifting through the air; a deep breath. Sometimes the most significant realizations begin there.

I invite you to take a deep breath and look up, even for a moment. Notice the people, sounds, and spaces around you, and remember that belonging is something we are invited to create together.