Edge Spaces, Mine and Maybe Ours.
I am nearly 6 months into my role on the leadership team for our grant. I am so excited to be a part of this partnership with you. For those of you that I have met, thank you for the warm welcome, and for those I have yet to meet, I look forward to knowing you. I continue to learn about the first five years of the grant and am excited for the next five years of growth, creativity, and curiosity. As I reflect on my experience so far, I have been thinking a lot about edge spaces, mine and maybe ours.
Several years ago, as a recent college graduate, I took a role as a Volunteer Coordinator at an elementary school. I was charting my path toward becoming a grade school teacher, and this role was the important next step toward my vocation. And it was, but not how I had planned.
As an AmeriCorps Member, I felt on the edge of the school. I was not quite part of the school staff, and I wasn’t a classroom teacher either. The result was lots of quiet hours to myself and feeling like I was missing out on the real action.
Being on the edge, however, gave me the space and time to welcome in students who found themselves wandering the hallways. Often, my mornings had at least one student plopping down at my desk to chat. We would head across the hall to the library to pick out a book to read. When we finished reading, we would head back to their classroom, and they would continue on with their learning. I learned that educators exist everywhere in our schools. In the classroom, in the lunchroom, in the office, and where I was too. At the edge, I got to participate alongside adventurous kids. By giving them structure to their wandering, our reading time, we created a space for adventure, and by charting the path back to the classroom, I was giving students both room to adventure and a gentle nudge back towards their learning community.
I also experienced this edge phenomenon when I took a staff role at a church. As a Coordinator of Hospitality, one of my roles was managing our church kitchen. Over my years in the kitchen, I again had children visiting. I would hand them a hefty tray of silverware or a giant bowl of cilantro and put them to work. I assumed these young people would be trying to escape religious education, but our conversations were deeply colored by what they were learning in their classrooms. They were curious and looking for one-on-one conversation that gave more space to ask questions. After a task was completed and we had explored the topic for the day, we’d head back towards their classroom, and they would rejoin their class.
It was not only children who floated into the kitchen as an additional place to explore their faith, but there were many adults too. We are all, at times, reaching towards the edge of our own condition, current situation, or current institution. Some of us feel happier hugging the edge and spend much of our time there.
In the study of ecology, the edge space where two different ecosystems meet is called an ecotone - think estuaries, lagoons, mangrove forests. These zones tend to have a significantly higher population density and greater species diversity than the home ecosystem. These are hotbeds of resilience and evolution.*
What if one way to think about our Partnership is as an ecotone? An edge where our congregations and institutions meet. This overlap created in our Partnership teems with ideas and energy. I have seen, in my brief time here, how this process of touching our shared edges with curiosity builds energy and supports resilience in congregations, pastors, and congregants. These edge spaces have the potential to expand our own understanding of discipleship and, grounded in discernment, lead us ever deeper towards ourselves, each other, and God.
As someone new to our community, standing at the edge gives me a view that directly shapes my ability to learn and serve. I am eager to get to know you better; please reach out to invite me to your church functions or for a cup of coffee, and I will do my best to be there.
Edge spaces help the entire system process, adapt, and breathe. By leaning personally or institutionally into these margins with curiosity, we may expand our understanding of discipleship. After all, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20) In fact, our scriptures tell us that this is where the sacred often comes to meet us. Perhaps this is the heart of what our partnership is about.
Posted on 9/14/2026
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