Love to work or work to love?

And what is it to work with love?  It is to weave cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.  It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.  It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.  It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit.  Work is love made visible. 

–Kahlil Gibran

This Saturday, my brother Christian graduated from college.  The only boy nestled between four sisters also happens to be the only sibling that wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about higher education (or school at all for that matter).  Though my mom would hate to admit it, she used to worry endlessly about my brother’s future.  Up until the time Christian was accepted at Western Washington University, she was sure he would “probably become a garbage man.”  And though I don’t believe it takes an education at a university to ultimately succeed in life, I have seen first-hand how higher education opens doors to opportunities that may not otherwise present themselves.  There is something powerful about education and the choice one is given to pursue the field of study and line of work that they find most alluring.

I still remember the shortness of breath and tears that accompanied the phone conversation I had after receiving my first “dream job” at an adoption agency right out of college. That evening, I was reading a borrowed book of Wendell Berry’s poetry, my feet dangling haphazardly from my bed and my eyes widening as I read each line.  There was a visceral connection that I had with the page, and a message I couldn’t ignore about the world of work I was about to enter:

“Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.”

I realized I was terrified of becoming another predictable story.  Of living a life abundant in comfort and laced with luxury but absent in passion and purpose.  Even though I was strongly discouraged by an echoing clamor of voices in my head to avoid going into social work, I pressed on. For the next five years, I discovered the inevitable rollercoaster of emotions associated with the line of work I willingly chose. But it was worth it.  I was doing what I loved most. 

“Do what you love ” seems to be the mantra of American culture.  At my brother’s graduation it was mentioned more than once from the podium as speakers challenged graduates to pursue their deepest passions.  It’s the ultimate American dream… springing out of bed with an unquenchable excitement to go to work and being handsomely rewarded for doing so.  I’ve met a handful of people who are truly doing what they love, but that handful is really quite small. Maybe more of a pinch full. The reality is that work is trying, challenging and filled with moments of failure, stress and discouragement right along with moments of joy, success and triumph.  I can’t tell you how many times I have experienced the rougher sides of work and daydreamed about finally finding my perfect career.  But when I examine my motivation to “do what I love”, I find that it’s rooted in an awful lot of selfishness . The “I” seems to be a central motivator for my work. 

But what if my work was not so much about “doing what I love” as it was about loving others through what I do?

I have seen strong examples of individuals loving others through what they do.  A stay-at-home mom staying up until 2 a.m. to help her child with a school project.  A man working long hours overtime in order to provide security and a future for the ones he loves most.  And the woman I remember seeing at a bus stop in South India, selling cashews with her baby riding on the bump of her hip in order to make enough money to survive.

I don’t think that loving others through what you do always has to include such dramatic or dire sacrifice.  Nor do I think that you ultimately have to sacrifice what you enjoy doing.  But I do believe it will require sacrifice of some kind.  It will require a sacrificial mindset of placing the needs of others before your own.  It will mean redefining “greatness” by becoming less of a self-advocate and more of a servant. 

How much powerful transformation would occur if we loved others through our work?  If work suddenly became a way to promote others instead of solely promoting ourselves.  If seeing others’ dreams realized was a part of our dream.  This mindset could make anyone (God forbid, even a garbage man) a revolutionary.

-A.W.

This post was inspired by a Gathered Thoughts Party created by Love Feast Table and shared through my friend Kamille, who most definitely loves others through her work.  You can read more about Kamille and her work at www.redeemingthetable.com.

To keep my author rights.

Blogs are a funny thing to me.  I tried blogging in college.  I didn't realize quite how many times I tried until I sat down with Abbie a couple of years ago and tried to start a new blog (only to discover that I had already "started" blogs at multiple sites).  Sadly, every blog address we tried was already taken (by me) and I couldn't remember any of the passwords.  www.brandonwentzel.blogspot.com, taken.  brandonwentzel.wordpress.com, taken.  One attempt after another helped me to realize that maybe I am just not cut out for this whole thing.

I did keep a blog while traveling around the world after college.  I really enjoyed it.  It had purpose--a running narrative of my adventures.  It was more for me than any audience.  A way to process the day and reflect upon all that I was seeing and experiencing.  Some people read it and seemed to appreciate the way I wrote about my experiences.  I did have some individuals (namely my family) concerned when, very early in the trip, I wrote about getting a free massage on a beach in Argentina from a white-haired, leathery skinned, expat sixty year- old man named "Baby" Goldstein.  Only to find out after the massage, it wasn't free like I had somehow anticipated.  "Baby" didn't speak English, but I could tell he wasn't happy when he mentioned "policia" and reached for my camera and wallet.  After reassuring my loved ones that I wasn't going to die on the trip, and after promising to make good decisions, the trip (and the blog) continued.  I was devastated to find out recently that blog too fell victim to the fate of inactivity and has since been removed.  If you know how to recover dead blogs, please let me know.  Seriously.

That's "Baby", my masseuse. I snapped this photo after fleeing the scene.

All this to say...I guess I need inspiration.  I could write about my students.  Teaching middle school Physical Education is certainly entertaining.  Though, I am not sure it is appropriate or even legal to write about students without their permission.  Those of you (as if someone will read this) with more information about the moral and/or legal ramifications of such blogging, please advise.  If I am not writing about my students, I am not sure what it will be...and maybe that's alright.  Perhaps I will find purpose or motivation along the way.  Abbie has been patiently urging me to blog a post since this particular site's inception.  I haven't been avoiding it, just lacking a particular topic worthy of writing about.  Last night she inadvertently threatened to erase the blog if I didn't step up to co-author like I had said I would.  I saw my window closing, rather quickly at that.  I am secretly hoping that I can write just enough to encourage her to continue blogging.

I don't think I have ever told Abbie this, but her blogs can be partially credited with me falling in love with her.  Back when we were just ol' college buddies, she was blogging regularly and I couldn't get enough.  If she wasn't blogging about something utterly absurd that happened to her, she was articulately and beautifully detailing her thoughts regarding the challenges of leading a life following Jesus.  She was (and continues be to) the full package and certainly far out of my league.  Sadly, it seems right about the time our relationship turned serious is about when the blogging slowed down for Abbie.  And, I miss it.  I know she does too, and I would love to partner with her in this journey of blogging about life.  Even if it is just us (and maybe our parents) that read it.

It might be foolish of me to juxtapose my writing next to that of a Creative Writing major.  But, if it means she'll continue writing...I'm in!  For all the P.E. teachers out there thinking they'll never stack up, this post is for you.  Ha!

B.W.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas is full of treasured traditions, one of my favorite being the first release of holiday sounds when you commence the Christmas music just after Thanksgiving (or in my case, maybe a few days before).  This year, I decided to “get in the Christmas spirit” early, and turned up classic Christmas tunes while unpacking decorations in our very small, but cozy apartment.  After about five minutes of decorating (that’s all it took in our tiny space), I sat down to enjoy the glittering lights on our miniature Christmas tree as Eddy Arnold’s 1961 version of “C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S Spells Christmas” soared through my laptop speakers.  I just love the lyrics to that old song, spelling out the true meaning of Christmas through a retelling of the story of Jesus coming to redeem our world.  I found myself filled with thankfulness as I reflected on that song.

God has proved His goodness and faithfulness time and time again this year to Brandon and I.  Throughout each of our accomplishments, experiences and challenges, He has been so steadfast in His love for us.  I want to share a few highlights of 2011, by spelling out C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S, Wentzel style.

C is for coaching: Brandon is in his 5^th year of coaching at LaVenture Middle School.  This year, he coached cross country and volleyball, with his girls’ volleyball team winning their first (and only) game during their final week playing. Talk about end of the season redemption.  I have also found myself coaching this year, but certainly not for sports (that’d be the day).  I am job coaching here in Bellingham.  I started working with a supported employment agency called Advancement Northwest in September, and I have been challenged and blessed by working with adults with disabilities—helping them discover their career passions and motivating them towards success.

H is for the hot, hot, hot weather that most of us enjoyed during our much- anticipated family vacation in July to Mexico.   The whole Wentzel family spent nearly two weeks in Cabo San Lucas playing in the sunshine, reading by the pool and enjoying endless rounds of delicious pico de gallo. There was even a celebrity spotting at the Cabo Marina when we saw Dr. Phil (yes, he really is as tall as he looks on television).  It was an incredible opportunity to bond as a family and a rewarding escape after a busy school year. Brandon and I were able to take off for a few days on our own to celebrate our first wedding anniversary at a gorgeous Bed and Breakfast in Todos Santos. 

R is for rollerblades.  Who wouldn’t want to resurrect an awesome form of exercise that seems to have been abandoned since the mid-90’s? Brandon and I had fun picking out rollerblades-ahem- inline skates this summer and using them to ride along the waterfront and through the side streets of Ocean Shores. We have yet to use them this winter, but we keep talking about pulling them out of the closet before snow hits the ground.

I is for the insight and wisdom we have gleaned from the awesome small group we are a part of through our church.  Getting plugged in to a small group has definitely been a highlight of 2011.  We love sharing dinners and stories with our new-found friends and mentors each time we meet.  Brandon and I are the youngest in the group by 20 years or so, so we have definitely benefitted from the life experiences of those in our group.  And they have told us more than once how nice it’s been to add a little “young blood” to the mix.  We are thankful for these new relationships and the opportunity to “spur one another on towards love and good deeds” (Heb. 10:24).

S is for a last-minute San Francisco adventure I took with my dear friend, Joelle.  Joelle and I were in the same Master’s program cohort and, after two years of grueling work, we felt we deserved an exciting reward.  So, we flew to San Francisco and walked the city by foot (and the occasional bus), eating mouthwatering gnocchi in Little Italy and sampling chocolates in Ghirardelli Square. We also took the BART over to Berkeley, where we visited our old friend, Lindsey.  It was a trip for the ages!

T is for my stellar Teacher-of-a-husband, Brandon.  This year, he feels honored and thrilled to teach a new class called A.V.I.D. (Advancement via Individual Determination). A.V.I.D. is a program designed to give the necessary support to students, particularly those in the academic middle, so that they can attend college and achieve their fullest potential.  Brandon serves at a low income school, and many of his A.V.I.D. students hope to be the first in their family history to attend college.  He loves the relational aspect of teaching A.V.I.D.  It’s a breath of fresh air after years of teaching his less relational P.E. classes (despite valiant efforts, there is only so much conversation that can be held during the pickle ball unit).

MA is for not one, but two Master’s Degrees completed! Brandon and I spent our entire first year of marriage glued to our laptops at the kitchen table, studying for finals and working on thesis papers.  This past summer, we were overjoyed to kiss the books goodbye and welcome a much-needed season of scholastic freedom.  I graduated with a Master’s in Social Entrepreneurship from Northwest University in June, and Brandon finished his Master’s in Organizational Leadership at Gonzaga in August.  We have already seen the positive ways that our degrees have benefitted our work experiences, and we are excited to see how God uses our new knowledge to further His Kingdom!

S is for our two new almost- siblings, Jaclyn and Todd.  Both my sister, Heidi, and brother, Christian, were engaged (only two weeks apart) in November.  Heidi and Todd are on the fast-track, getting married this February, and Christian and Jaclyn will be married in September 2012.  We are thrilled to add two more siblings to the wild, crazy and continually growing Harkson family. What a blessing!

And that’s how Brandon and I spell C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S this year.  We are brimming with thankfulness for each new opportunity and friendship God blessed us with in 2011, and eagerly waiting with expectation what the Lord will do in 2012. 

Merry Christmas!  May you be blessed this season and continue to have the power to understand how wide, how long, how high, and how deep the love of Christ is for you! (Ephesians 3:18).

Love,


Abbie and Brandon

Secret Santa and the Royal Priesthood

Early Sunday morning, Brandon and I woke up, poured ourselves bowls of cereal, and caught this special interest story on CBS's "Sunday Morning"show:





The story left Brandon and I in tears. Jonathan, a heroine addict and self-proclaimed deadbeat was literally at the end of his rope. Out of money and, subsequently, out of hope. As a last resort, he prayed to a God he didn't even believe in.  The result? Bam. God showed up. But not in the literal sense.  He didn't stand before Jonathan in the flesh or even appear through the flames of a burning bush.  Instead, He showed up through an elderly man dressed in a red driving cap, passing out 100 dollar bills and calling himself "Secret Santa." But $100 wasn't all that Jonathan received in his exchange with Secret Santa. He also received hope.  In that moment, he knew that the God he cried out to had heard his desperation and answered his prayer.  For the first time, he understood that God not only exists, but that he loves him and cares about his life.


After watching that video, I was reminded that I need to be more of a "Secret Santa." As someone who has access to the treasure of Jesus, it's like I'm that old man, my pockets packed with $100 dollar bills just ready to hand out.  What a privilege--to get to represent the inward character of Jesus outwardly to a world of people who are hungry and waiting for the truth.


I'm not the only one who is called to be a "Secret Santa." Anyone who knows Jesus is. But there's another word that God used for this privilege. Priest. A Royal Priesthood.  1 Peter 2:9 says, "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, belonging to God..." When hearing the word priest, images of the Pope may come to mind, or maybe you imagine Peter Cook's rather frightening role as the officiant with an overwhelming speech impediment in "The Princess Bride."

But there is a much different image God gives for us when he calls us to be priests.  In the Old Testament, the word "priest" was reserved for a select few (Exodus 19:5-6).  Under Mosaical law, the tribe of Levi was dedicated to the service of God.  From the tribe of Levi, priests were hand selected. And from the priests, a high priest, who was responsible for representing the whole nation of Israel. Priests held a high and holy responsibility. They served as the mediators between God and the people. They are the ones who took the people's sacrifices and offered them up to God so that the sins of the people would be forgiven. 


Fast forward to the New Testament, after Jesus himself became a sacrifice for our sins, and the word "priest" takes on a whole new definition.  Suddenly, it becomes a general call to all of God's people--not just a select few.  The same truth remains today.  We are all priests for the Most High.  We have a high and holy duty.  Our duty is to represent Jesus to the world around us.  To pray for others before our Heavenly Father.  To be the mediators--the Secret Santas--that deliver the treasure of Jesus  to those who are at the end of their rope and hungry for a reason to hope.  Obviously, we can't pray for everyone in the world at the same time.  That's why the Holy Spirit gives us a specific burden for certain people or groups of people.  We become the priests and the Secret Santas for that particular community.  What an awesome privilege.


I keep thinking about that little video of "Secret Santa" meeting Jonathan at the bus station in Reading, Pennsylvania.  I can't help but think about who I will meet tomorrow who is just waiting with expectation for a miracle. Time to put on my red driving cap and get ready to hand out some $100 dollar bills...

The Newblings

About this time last year, Brandon and I had our whole future planned out. We applied for a job teaching overseas with the Department of Defense (DOD) and were just sure that it was only a matter of time before our dream became a reality. We waited patiently for the much-anticipated phone call from the DOD informing us that we were needed in the Netherlands or Guam. Guess I must have zoned out while reading Proverbs 19:21, "Many are the plan's in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."

Just like the next dreamer, I am great at making plans. Thinking "big picture". I'm a Meyer's Briggs ENFP, after all. Being content in the present? Still working on that. Needless to say, both Brandon and I were more than a little bit disappointed when we never did get that call from the DOD.

Fast-forward six months and I can honestly say I feel differently. I feel content with "staying put" for awhile here in our little Northwest corner of Washington.  This past month, I have been especially thankful that God's plans were different than ours.  We needed to be here this year for reasons that He knew and we couldn't have even seen coming.  The biggest reasons? Not one, but two siblings getting engaged.

Now, my brother Christian and his girlfriend Jaclyn have been dating for practically half of their lives, so I guess you could say that one was in the works. But my sister, Heidi, on the other hand--that was a suprise that no one could have predicted.  This time last year, no one had a clue who her fiancée Todd was.  Needless to say, we were all a bit gobsmacked when they started dating in June and suddenly, five months later, she was wearing a diamond on her ring finger and a husband-to-be on her right arm.  I guess every story is unique, though.  Good things arrive in different ways. It never ceases to amaze me that a dog can have puppies in just a few months, where it takes an elephant two full years to carry a baby before delivery.  Not that you can relate all things in life to mammal's gestation periods, but in this case Heidi and Todd are definitely dogs and Christian and Jaclyn are the elephants.

To keep up with their different pre-marital paces, Christian and Jaclyn plan to get married in September and Heidi and Todd, well, their wedding day is in less than two months.  The good news is that Brandon and I are here with them-- right smack dab in the middle of the wedding dress shopping and invitation making. Here to hug and support our siblings and our "newblings" (as I like to call the future inlaws), while they plan for the biggest milestones of their lives. Special moments that we couldn't have shared from Guam.

I am so thankful that the Lord's plans for our life this year were different (and better) than ours. And I am so thankful for Jaclyn and Todd...the newblings!

-A.W.