Rooted in Community | Perkins Fellow Lanie Moore '25
Seated on the hearth in Christy Yates’s living room one Sunday this spring, I read aloud a poem that I had hastily typed into the Notes app on my phone. I was sitting with the other Perkins Fellows from the 2023-2024 school year, sharing reflection statements about our faith journeys and our community partnerships. My reflection statement reads:
I have learned
That I’m still learning.
That a broken place can be full of joy.
That I can grieve and yet know that God is good.
That I can become the mycorrhizae of my community.
These past two semesters, I have served at The Haven, a day shelter for unhoused individuals located near the Downtown Mall. My Saturday mornings at the Haven have challenged and humbled me. Sometimes, I think that I can sense a palpable spirit of grief resting on the shelter, grief over what once was and what might have been. Other times, it’s a spirit of anger, directed toward unjust and uncaring systems of racism and classism. Driving home after my shifts, I mourn the stories of shattered families and relationships and livelihoods that I have encountered there. As I grieve the deep wounds of personal, generational, and systematic trauma, I cling tightly to my deep conviction that I serve a good God who grieves alongside me.
At the same time, mornings that I spend at the Haven are some of my favorites. I enjoy the routine that I’ve created for myself, reorganizing the inventory of clothing and toiletries, sorting the mail, and wiping down tables. I have become friends with the Saturday staff, guests, and other volunteers, and there is often something to laugh about.
Being made in the image of God means that the capacity for joy exists in every place that humans reside, and the Haven is no exception. My image of humanity, in all of its beauty and sinfulness and diversity, is becoming more complete each time I descend into the church basement-turned-shelter.
As I have served at the Haven and witnessed other Perkins fellows serving their community partners, I have decided that the soul of community-minded servanthood mirrors the role of mycorrhizae in ecosystems. The term “mycorrhiza” refers to the symbiotic relationship between hyphae, or the root-like projections of fungi, and the roots of plants. The hyphae of mycorrhizal fungi will reach out to nearby roots, wrapping them in a filamentous, subterranean hug. These mycorrhizal hug extensions increase the surface area of the roots and allow the plant to increase its mineral and water intake. In return, the photosynthesizing plant provides the fungus with increased nutrients.
Like mycorrhizae, I would like to extend my arms and heart to the strong, pre-existing networks of my community, wrap around them, and strengthen them further. I can help to draw in the minerals of excitement, kindness, and time to my community partner, and in exchange, I feel confident that I will be bolstered by the nutrients of laughter, joyous interactions, and community members’ wisdom.
And of course, I am still learning.
photo: Perkins Fellows out at Buck’s Bend for their final gathering. Lanie is the third from the left.