From Building Houses to Building Peace

David Saunier

   Changing careers can sometimes seem like moving to a new country.

   I entered the Conflict Transformation Program like a cautious traveler entering a new and different land. The glossy travel brochures made it seem like an exciting place, and the woman at the border named Ruth seemed nice enough, but you never can tell about a place until you see it for yourself. I had many questions, chiefly among them; Who are these...Mennonites?

   After explaining that I was a little unsure about this new land, they let me in so that I could wander around for three months and see what I thought of the place. My first real intro to the land was from a guy named John Paul who seemed harmless enough. He showed an infectious enthusiasm for the terrain of conflict and his boots were broken in nicely from his travels along its paths. The people of this place seemed down to earth, friendly, and skilled at making baked goods.

   They had a particular language that combined words and phrases in new and different ways like I had never seen. They said things like justpeace and peacebuilding, and they had mercy talking to justice who's talking to peace, and everybody's being transformed and changing lenses. It was a little different, but I came to appreciate this new language because it said things that needed to be said. It said things I wanted to say. I felt at home in this new land and decided I would stay and explore this ground myself.

   Before coming here, I made cabinets and furniture and before that I built houses. At first glance it would appear to be a radical shift to go from such work to conflict transformation, but in the context of my personal journey it's more a logical step then a radical shift.

   As I look back on changes I've made in my life, my concern seems to be less with what I wish to do, and more with who I wish to be. At those times, I seem to move from an unsatisfied present towards a desired future. Moving from a place where growth has slowed or stopped to a place where I can be more who I wish to be.

   To move from one place to another, whether it be from one career to another, from one county to another, or from one behavior to another, involves risk and uncertainty. We leave the world of the known to enter the world of the unknown. The comfort of the familiar is lost. We ask; is this a mistake? Will I regret this change?

   Yet, there are times in our lives where the real danger and risk is not in changing, but in remaining the same. By not changing, we make the mistake of becoming stagnant and lifeless. We become prisoners of our fears. We deny ourselves a life fully lived. That is something to regret.

   We must listen to and trust ourselves, our hearts, and our own voices. The times I have changed and felt really good about it, I have listened to my heart.

   When I first became a carpenter after college, I was listening to the voice that felt alienated from the real world because I had been in classrooms for most of my life. I wanted to be in touch with the fundamental things that sustained life. I wanted to be able to provide, with my own hands, either food, clothing, or shelter. I chose to become a carpenter. I chose to provide shelter, and I can now build a house.

   In short, I'm here at CTP because I listened to my heart. It was time for a change. Time to work muscles that have rested too long. Time to do another kind of building. This ground that is peacebuilding feels like my native soil. I feel as though I have come home after being away and the ground needs to be worked.

   I carry lessons from my woodworking past to my peacebuilding present. I know you can't rush the building of a solid foundation and frame. I know that the smallest task, when placed in the context of the larger structure being created, is as noble and valuable as any other, and should be lifted up. I also know that the beauty in a piece of wood is nothing I created, but something that I just helped reveal.

   We must listen to ourselves and heed our own words. In so doing we answer the question posed by Mary Oliver when she asked, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Dave Saunier enlivens the CTP classrooms with his smile, his attentive listening, and his golden lab, Mattie, who can often be found greeting students, staff, and visitors in the CTP office.