This winter, for me, has been about waking up. At a time of year when nature dictates hibernation, the sap of action has been rising in my veins. I’ve always been a person who believes in things—my Episcopalian upbringing planted in me the desire to care for the poor and lift up the oppressed—but for most of my life those beliefs have boiled in my mind while my body slept, or ate, or wrote essays for the classes I put above all else. But this winter something changed. I acted out my beliefs in peace and self-determination by helping organize a student strike against the Iraq War. I acted out my belief in God’s boundless love as I plastered my campus with flyers for a speech by the Right Reverend Gene Robinson. And I acted out my belief in social justice by interning with Episcopal Migration Ministries.

I applied for the internship almost on a whim. My campus chaplain sent out an e-mail saying EMM was looking for interns and even though I was already tossing and turning at night wondering if I could fulfill all the commitments I’d signed up for this semester, something compelled me to go in for an interview. I was immediately inspired by EMM’s work. Our country’s current policy of treating asylees and immigrants as inhuman enemies to be walled out or locked up disgusts me. No matter where we come from, we are all human and have so much to learn from each other. (A statement so obvious, that frankly, it rather disturbs me that it has to be repeated.) EMM recognizes our shared humanity in two very important ways: by fighting for the rights of immigrants, asylees, and refugees, and by welcoming refugees with open arms into our communities through resettlement. I wanted to be part of this work. And, as someone who has often wondered how to turn my desire to help others into a profession, I was excited by the view of a potential future the internship would offer me. I signed on to intern Fridays at EMM, despite the way my stomach churned with stress as I did so.

I shouldn’t have worried. There has been something almost meditative about my time at EMM. As I enter the office on Fridays, all my other commitments fall away from my consciousness. I focus on the task at hand--creating a profile of EMM’s many offices, preparing informational packets to send to interested dioceses, interviewing those who minister to refugees and writing articles about EMM’s affiliate offices—and the paper I have due on Monday fades away. I am here and, even if I cannot see the results, I know that I am making a difference. It’s a more relaxed action than the wild frenzy of campus anti-war activism. One Friday in Lent I spent the day transcribing refugee-related worship resources. The prayers for justice and acceptance passed through my eyes and out my fingers and in the process brushed through my heart so that I was praying as I typed. All the anger that bubbles in me when I open my eyes to the state of the world dissipated into a state of reflective calm. I felt at peace with all my questions and my worries: they hovered like pink clouds before myself and God. In this way, my Fridays at EMM became a spiritual discipline I set this time aside to do the work God calls each of us to do and I did it in God’s restive presence – and now that I am leaving EMM, I can say I am thankful.