a funny thing happened on the way to the bank

so i was on my way last saturday, december 23rd, to the bank. i was out about doing my christmas shopping. i admit i tend to be a procrastinator and well, this year i have to be honest i just wasn't feeling it. and of course, nothing gets you in the "ho, ho" holiday spirit than fighting traffic and maneuvering through crowds of other procrastinators and those annoyingly jolly people in bright red sweatshirts with bells and mistletoe dangling off who are feeling it enough for you, me and all those in the line behind me.

as i rounded the corner in my car headed to the bank, i passed our usual saturday morning protesters. most saturdays a few men and women stand with signs declaring their views on the war in iraq and encouraging us to "honk for peace" which while i appreciate their enthusiasm i am not sure that honking on a busy road, at a crazy intersection, on one of the last days to shop before christmas is wise. i fear such "honking for peace" could in fact ignite road rage in any of my fellow people who failed to plan ahead and now feel the rush to not only find the perfect gift and buy it but also fold it in just the right wrapping paper wrestling with cheap tape that won't tear at the prescribed location indicated by the sharp teethy edges.

but what made my belly laugh like a "bowl full of jelly" was as i finished rounding the corner and began the straightway leading me to my destination and passed the protesters and encouragers of honking to establish world peace, i looked up just in time to see a young teenage boy, dressed in khakis and a blue sweatshirt, thus declaring his servitude to none other than best buy, holding the brightest yellow sign i'm sure he could find at the party plus store located conveniently behind him with the words: "We Have PlayStation 3".

and while i'm not sure what it was exactly about that scene that me me laugh, i did. just something about best buy sending its employees to the corner to capitalize on the protesters' audience with signs declaring their supply of playstation 3s next to signs declaring our lack of peace seemed a bit amiss and amusing at the same time.

a poem to pass the time

i have an absolute brain freeze/block. i know what i want to write about, what i want to say but can't for the life of me figure out how to get it from the brain molecules whirling in my head to paper so for the time being i thought i'd post a rought draft of a poem i wrote during a very important church meeting. i really was paying attention i promise.

grace kills all that is dark
like a disease it grows
spreading, breaking down
the faulty immune system
built by man's distaste
for the divine and his
glutinous need for self-satisfication
which stunts his soul
and grace is violent
it surges, crashing up against Eden's
defenses, warring with the
elements, wearing down the
structures, tearing
at the grit of life


feels like there should be another last line but again brain freeze wins.

the passing of things

there’s no scab to be found hardening, covering
blood dried from the day’s healing. just
open infested sore. people bound with well
intentioned answers insist with unearned nobility
that this sinking sadness will pass. me, i’m not sure.
i can’t help thinking He got sick of us. He got fed
up with our self-imposed hassles so He took a long
deserved vacation on the coast. Sacrilegious!
or so they tell me to think such thoughts. but
sleep deprivation makes for long nights lost in
deepening darkness. so i strive for the light
which is closer to what i know and not what i fear.
what i possess somewhere under broken tissues
and torn fragments of skin is the knowledge
that waves ride on the breath of You, clouds
move at the playful twist of Your fingers,
like toddler’s toes playing in spilled paint
the sun sets and rises. i imagine You belch and
wind is created sending nature aghast with giggles.
You play with electricity like a puppy rolling tangled
with a cord. earth knows Your footsteps and responds
with the morning dew. yet despite all Your wondrous ways
You play with children giving them white dandelion dust to blow
like felt bubbles. and the hope i have through unearned
grace is that the answer is not found in pain passing like
gall stones or bell bottoms worn in faded pictures you look at
ten years down the road, but in knowing that nothing passes.
nothing passes by You that does not heal.

a wandering thought

there this thought in my head lately or perhaps it is better labeled a confession: I care far too greatly what others think. i'm not sure even really where to go with this thought. perhaps i am alone in my wondering what others think but something tells me i am not the only one plagued with this disease. and something tells me that such concern with another's opinion or thought of me adds up to idolatry and places my faith on a questionable foundation. it causes me to question. am i really who i say i am? is my faith really faith at all? am i living life as a pratical athiest disguised as a follower of Christ?

Journey

A question often floated around in the spiritual/religious world is “Where are you at in your journey with Christ?” In an interview for my present job I was presented with this question. I had to answer a similar phrased question for church membership. I have to admit that I find this question hard to answer. It’s as if we can locate on a map an exact starting point and ending point, as if the religious experience is so cut and dry. We start here and we end here. And I guess on some level it is that cut and dry, that simple. We are born, created by the Divine, and we die and meet the Divine. Every human life follows this same linear path. But I have found that the spiritual experience can be anything but linear and direct. In fact, I would propose that many times the path God chooses to lead us to Him and the path He asks us to walk with Him on can be quite winding and indirect.

Take Abraham and Sarah for example. God told Abraham to “get himself up and go from this land”. Direct, no doubt. Clear was God’s command. Get up! Get moving! However, God chose to leave out a very important detail, the destination. Abraham was not told where he was going; only that he was going to the land that God was going to deliver to him. Now how would Abraham have answered this spiritual question of “Where are your at in your journey with Christ?” He could most certainly answer that he was on a journey with his Maker. Of that there was no doubt. But he had no clue where he was in this journey because God had not even given him the final destination. God’s plan was masked, veiled, hidden from Abraham. In bits and pieces God revealed Himself and His plan to Abraham, but even then could Abraham really fathom what God had in store. Could he really see the final outcome, the end result, the destination that God had planned for him? Abraham, a fatherless old man who the Bible tells us his ability to conceive children had pretty much dried up, would be the father of a host of people, a large nation that could not be counted. How could he possibly comprehend that and if he could, how could he even possibly begin to map out how he’d get from Point A, childless, to Point B, a father of one…let alone a nation?

How about David? I am sure that if David lived today he would be labeled bipolar, suicidal, schizophrenic, or just plain crazy. Have you read the Psalms? He could in one passage, one day, one event, bless the Lord of all Creation. He could in the next Psalms doubt the Creator’s love and mercy, wondering if he had been forsaken. David could traverse a jumble of emotions toward his maker and capture it one Psalms, revealing both his doubt and anxiety about his Lord’s intentions and motives and yet claiming unwavering faith in this same Lord’s grace and sovereignty. If you tried to place David’s journey with God on a map, well you’d be all over the place. It’d look more like a connect-the-dots page than a map with clear, concise starting and ending points.

These men of God, not only traveled strange and sometimes tumultuous paths with their Master Planner, but sometimes they seemed to have fallen off in the ditch somewhere along the way. David orchestrated the murder of a man, hired a hit man if you will, to cover up his having sex with another’s man’s wife and her becoming pregnant as a result. And Abraham lied about his wife, putting her in harm’s way; something he did not once, but twice. Seems he fell into the same pothole more than once. Yet, they rose from their ditches with their scars and bruises, gathered themselves up and got back on the road traveling with the only One they knew could get them to wherever they were going.

And that is what my journey is. It’s walking. Sometimes I am sure there is a clear path and I can see the lights of place I am to be just ahead, in the distance between the trees. There are other times I feel like I’m wallowing in a ditch with briars and mud; it’s then I wonder where I am going and where the supposed Almighty and Friend of the forlorn is. But what remains, clear path ahead with a clear destination marked with potholes to avoid and streams to rest at or a path filled with potholes that veers off the clearly marked road more than I can comprehend, is that I’m walking. And I am not alone. Sometimes I can feel the Presence of the one that permeates the morning dew as if He covered me with a cloak of warmth, heavy and soft and light. Sometimes I walk through a fog so thick I can’t see my hand in front of me let alone see a God too mysterious for my mind to grasp. Yet I walk. I can’t always tell you where I am at on my journey and even if I could and even when I know my destination I have no idea how I will arrive there. And when I think I do know it’s then I find God’s voice so direct saying, “Get up! Get moving!” And to my replies of where and how, He simply beckons, “Get up! Get moving! I’ll show you.” So I walk. That’s what I know. I’m on a journey with the Divine, rarely linear, rarely direct, and rarely simple in its path. In fact, downright confusing is the process. Yet so simple: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”

makes you go hmmmmmmm

here's an interesting thought from tony myles/don't call me veronica - go to his blog, it's thought provoking (link to the side, b/c i'm not smart enough to put a link right here):

Fiery opinions are all about your grip on life; Christ-breathed grace is all about God’s grip on you.

shells

I’ve had two interesting conversations lately with two different individuals. Ease drop with me.

Conversation A:

I have to be honest. The first conversationalist, I think, assumes much: to know more of me than they realize and where I’m at on the ‘journey’ of healing and hard inner work. It’s has if they got a peek, a momentary but revealing peek, and they know “understand” me, “get” me. But nevertheless they pointed out something that hints at a reflection of what’s inside. Perhaps, what’s inside comes outside and perhaps, what’s inside isn’t what should be. How do I really view myself and God’s grace? And maybe the question of importance isn’t so much how I view myself or the issue of God’s grace, but whether I’m even interacting with God’s grace in the deep recesses where myself says, “Self (as my friend Kelsey believes one must address oneself), you’ve gone so far, too far.”

Now I would never deny God’s grace or power. I believe and assert that God’s grace extends to anyone, anywhere, and in any situation. Name me a person, name me a place, name me a situation and I’ll hold irrevocably that God’s grace is there for the taking. The lights are working; you just got to turn them on. I worked with juvenile sex offenders and I believe God’s grace extends to them. I believe God can alter them, change them and shape them for his glory. In fact, I believe that hope for them does not exist in the tiniest of forms outside the grace of God. Yet, in my day to day life I wonder if I live, as someone I heard term it, as a practical atheist. I believe in the theory, the idea, and love to see it applied…in other’s lives. And I believe on paper his grace extends to me but when played out in reality I must admit I think his grace, while it might reach the deepest caverns, I imagine it to be a distant light that cast shadows on the wall rather than the all encompassing light that sheds the darkness like decaying moss and provides a tangible warmth to my soul.

Conversation B:

The second conversation was more intimate. Intimate because it discussed issues of vulnerability. You know the whole let’s expose my sin to the burning flames of another. That is, of course, my definition. Webster’s definition: capable of being physically or emotionally wounded, open to attack or damage, liable to increased penalties but entitled to increased bonuses after winning a game in contract bridge. It comes from the Latin word mean ‘to wound’ and is probably close to the Latin word which means to ‘pluck’.

Pluck describes it best. I’m tired of having people ‘pluck’ at me. Take from me what they need. Take from me what they want. Analyze me. Assume to know me. Criticize me. It has felt like lots of hands coming up and ‘plucking’ at my skin and my reaction has become to slap anything that comes within my parameter. But I am honestly at a loss at what to do as the heart is not an immortal object. It is not invincible. And survival kicks in. And I’m tried true fan of the “suck it up” philosophy. So what do you do when you crave the touch of another, the kindness of someone to speak comfort and balm to your wounds, to sit with you in the murky waters and have the biggest pity party (and while we’re at it let’s invite the neighbors), but hands keep flapping and your bootstraps are worn from being pulled up so much and you’re just tired. Sure, the obvious response is to “let it go and let god” (trite phrase #426, even Solomon found trite phrases nauseating – see Proverbs 25:20). But again reflexes are reflex. You can think all you want that the doctor’s mallet won’t make you knee move, but if he hits the right spot that legs coming up.

And somehow this all led to talk of living in a shell. And I who lusts after words went looking to good ole Webster. And here’s some interesting thoughts I’ve come from this little research:

- it can refer to a hard rigid covering that is calcareous. Now calcareous probably involves a whole other research project but it gives the image that this shell, this covering, is a part of whatever it is covering. It’s growing. It’s a mineral. It’s an element. It comes from somewhere.
- it can refer to a ‘framework or exterior structure, especially a building with an unfinished interior’. It may not even resemble what’s inside.
- it can refer to a ‘casing without substance” which the only response I can elicit is “ouch”.
- it can refer to ‘an impersonal attitude or manner that conceals the presence or absence of feeling’ which is funny to me because what I choose to conceal is so intense, so full of feeling. There is no absence of feeling.
- it can refer to ‘a projectile for cannon containing an explosive bursting charge’ which is how I feel most of the time.
- it can refer to ‘company or coproraiton that exists without assets or independinednt operations as a legal entity through which another company or corporation can conduct various dealing” and I wonder if I’m just existing to complete a task, perhaps even my calling and in existing just to fulfill my calling if I’ve missed why God gave the calling anyway.

The definition that gets me to thinking the most is ‘the hard or tough often thin outer covering of an egg (as of a bird or reptile)’. And what happens to those eggs, those shells. They break. They shed. They open. They serve a purpose. They protect. They allow something to grow but then they break. They aren’t meant to be permanent. They aren't meant to be lifelong. At some point they're meant to be split, to be shed, to be worked off.

Interestingly enough the word is akin to a Lithuanian word which means ‘to split’ and to a Greek word which means ‘to hoe'.

networking with God, replacing names and changing particples

there's so much going through my thoughts these days. these are the ones that seem to be seeping in lately...causing me to think, which should, in my humble opinion, always be a dangerous task to take on.

networking with God:

if you haven't read Nickel and Dimed by barbara ehreneich, well... you should. you may not agree with everything or her take but it makes you think. i just finished another of her books, Bait and Switch - The (Futile) Pursuit Of The American Dream. her approach as a journalist fascinates me, going undercover in various places to learn what it means to "live on minium wage" or to "survive the corporate world". while her books are not religious in nature, in both she encounters situations/times where religion interesects with poverty, the corporate life and those living in those worlds. she is an atheist and yet when she speaks on the issues that intersect with religion and God i find that there is a truth there that is so profound and spiritual that my spirit rises to say amen.

here is just an excerpt from her book, Bait and Switch. she has been trying to find a job in the coporate world and the advice she is given by those in that realm is to network, network, network. network being the connecting with people with the end result always in mind, engaging people for an outcome. the goal of networking is the return on time spent with a person - what did i get out the encounter. she is sent to various networking sessions and finds herself among a group of christian mostly men with a few women in networking/business groups. the following is her response to Francois, a fellow who is sharing the importance of networking, and having a prepared "elevator" speech to sell oneself. He states that our first networking target should be the Lord.

"I'm sorry, this is too much for me. I endured the Norcross Fellowship Lunch as an atheist, but now, at the Mt. Paran Church of God, I discovoer I am a believer, and what I believe is this: if the Lord exists, if there is some conscious being whose thought the universe is - some great spinner of galaxies, hurler of meteors, creator and extinguisher of species - if some such being should manifest itself, you do not "network" with it any more than you would light a cigarette on the burning bush. Francois is guilty of blasphemy. He has demeaned the universe as I know it."

i wonder if we, us, me, I have blasphemed the person of God? have we, us, me, I seen him as something to be networked, to work over to get something out of in return? if an athiest can so address in, my opinion the grandor and splendor and sovergienty of God, do I, in my arrogance and "knowledge" of God have a clue? you see i'm not surprised that an "athiest" came up with that thought but i fear that in the christian world today there exists a certain arrogance - as if we have a corner on the market and the reality is that we haven't a clue.

replace the "world" with you:

overheard a conversation recently in which a young man talked about hearing all his life that when John 3:16 is quoted, For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever would believe would have everlasting life, that he should insert his name in the place of "world".

he questioned if by making it such an individualistic verse (which is true, yes Christ died for me, specifically me and specifically you) that we lose a part of the meaning/intent and wonder of a God who loves the WORLD, whose mission was not simply to me, but to ALL.

changing the "to" to "with":

met missionaries recently who are ministering to the Muslim world and notice they do not say they are "taking" the light of Christ "to" the Muslim world or even "showing" the light of Christ "to" the Muslim world but rather they are "sharing" (signifies a mutual partaking - is it possible we could learn about God from a Muslim or that perhaps by sharing we give of our lives rather than provide a "product" to a "consumer") the light of Christ "with" (Jesus came "into"the world and not simply "to" the world) the world.

the "to" and the "with" signify a difference in theology that is as wide as the east is from the west.

some people's opinion

on wednesday night i was up waiting for my pizza and fries to finish cooking. i was flipping between the wonderful selection of tv channels that i have - slightly fuzzy (that's channel 6), clear 90% of the time (that's channel 8) and rarely clear (that's channel 4).

i stopped for awhile and watched jay leno's gray hair through the silver fuzz of the tv. i came in on the end of tom green's travels through the US meeting various ordinary people to see who was the most interesting. they had found their person and their affiliate station in that town was about to announce to a 91 year old woman that she had been chosen as "the most interesting person".

I watched as a local newsman, probably thrilled to be on the late show - national tv - announced to this 91 year old woman who looked like she had earned every year of those ninety-one years that she was jay leno's "most interesting person". the newsman then asked her what she thought about that and her response was, "well, that's some people's opinion".

"well, that's some people's opinion" that's my new goal in life! i imagine the woman at ninety one has seen all the ups and downs that life can bring, lived through much and hopefully lived while doing it that she understands the fickleness of people. that she understands that someone's opinion of you doesn't make or break you. some people will think you're grand. others will think you're small. life does not move or halt on the theory one holds about you.

i so need to somehow get there. to know who i am. who i am in God. to be like paul and know contentment whatever my circumstances. the messages says it like this:
“I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am”.

my problem is i want to be there now. and i wonder...can you get there now? i mean does it take 91 years to get there? does it take being thrown in jail, tossed on a ship, shipwrecked on an island and bit by a snake? the last year or so i've found that i agree with a statement made by thomas merton - hope is directly related to attachment. his hypothesis: the more detached to material things, the trappings of labels and man made definitions, to this world = more hope. i've lost a lot, given up a lot, made hard choices, been wounded, hurt, run through the ringer, driven through the mud and wondered who i was and yet, never once did i experience a lack of hope. i've gone from owning a home to living in a small apartment. i've gone from having a good job and been successful for my age, my field, my education with more opportunities to come to, until recently, working three part time jobs to make ends meet, waiting on tables to put food on mine. but i never went without hope.

oh i wondered what God was doing. i wondered if he had forgotten me. wondered if he knew what he was doing. wondered if what he was doing was all it was cracked up to be. funny thing is on my downest day, when i questioned everything and everyone around me including the me in the mirror, i was happier than i had been in years and i could feel it. feel hope burrowing in my bones, settling into my marrow, taking root in my veins, bring color to my skin. it was there and i knew it wasn't going anywhere.

so i've tasted of it i think. maybe i know more than i realize i do what it means to be content. but now see i have a full time job and am back on track career wise and more importantly, God-purpose wise and i now i have time worry about what people think. see before when you are waiting tables, working third shift, finding sleep and pulling in the tips to pay the utility bill...well...it doesn't leave much time for you to think about what people think even if you care. but now...well...there's time. and i feel like i've lost my mojo a bit. and where's it rooted at this mojo. perhaps i've let it take root in someone other then the "One who makes me".

i don't what it takes to get to where you know that contentment that paul spoke of or that sense of security that is rooted in nothing but the wisdom that knows the sun sets, the sun rises, people die and people are born and you may think me a dud, but, “well, that just some people's opinion".

hiding with magellan

recently my parents bought me a fish. i believe it's a beta. you know the vibrant color ones that come in a plant vase and can't live with any other fish. my fish lives with a peace lilly. the peace lilly's roots descend into the vase of water and magellan (as he has been named by staci and kelsi) likes to burrow himself up in the roots. he likes to hide.

truth is i'd like to join him. see this post is a self-pity 'woe is me' post for which i normally would follow this self-disclosure with an apology, but i'm all out of those.

when people don't call except to tell me their problems or ask for my help, when i can pick up my cell and see the number and know immediately that they want something but have little to offer in return (and not b/c they don't want to but b/c right now understandably based on what they are going through they don't have anything to offer) i want to hide. i know friendships aren't based on what you get back but then again let's be honest would we still be friends if we never got something back? maybe their levels of friendship or a difference between being friends and being friendly. maybe that's a whole nother post. nevertheless when those phone calls start coming in i start looking for roots to crawl into.

when people need hand holding that i just don't have to offer. i want to be kind and gracious and so many times i need kindness and grace but my job on earth is not to soothe your every issue or lack of self worth. i can show you love, encourage you, support you, help you, mentor you but at some point i just can't do it. i wasn't meant to and at 11:40 PM i'm just not sure it's my job and i start looking for earth to burrow into.

when people just dump, go on the attack and offensive and hey it's okay b/c why...b/c jessica doesn't care, b/c she's got broad shoulders, b/c she understands how it is sometimes. used to i'd come out with my own shovel and we could dump together. used to be i'd call a spade a spade. used to be you ask me for opinion and then get mad b/c what you really wanted was me to agree i'd say just that...seems my 'used to' is all used up.

i spend a lot of time looking at my fish and wonder if there is anyway we could both fit in the those roots together.

selecting leaders

I have been doing a lot of reading lately on leadership, perhaps out of expectation (i.e. God's faithful response to our choice to be obedient). Perhaps b/c as I move more in sync with God I am learning just what my specific gifts are, my "fit", if you will.

Perhaps b/c I sense a need for leadership in the position that I am about to step into. This ministry is need of leadership, someone with a clear vision of the future, rooted in hope that with God all things are possible. The ministry needs encouragement and love, those serving need to be boosted and cared for; it needs someone willing to grow it with daily nourishment and stay for the long haul. The ministry needs enthusiasm, a spark of joy. And it needs, desperately needs, leaders.

In Bill Hybels' book, Courageous Leadership, he talks about his criteria selection: The Three C's of Team Selection. They are Character, Competence, and Chemistry. He looks for leaders whose relationship with Christ is secure and growing. He wants people committed to pursuing growth in Christ and that display characterisitics like honesty, willingness to learn, humility, good work ethic, etc. He looks for people who have the ability to do the job and not just someone with the desire. He wants someone who has the gift of teaching if looking for a teacher. And he looks at chemistry, how well does this person mesh with the group that is already assembled. This has got me thinking. What is it that I am looking for when looking to recruit leaders?

It is true I don't want just anyone, yet I want to be open that leaders are built not born and they have to learn and develop somewhere. I want to keep in mind that I am not Bill Hybels running a mega church, but an Early Childhood Ministry. I also, though, don't want to settle simply b/c I "need" to or "can". There has to be a standard, that includes and builds and empowers but that sets a bar of excellence. It's God's accountability and His grace infused. So what do you think are the essentials, the must-haves to be a leader in ministry, especially ministry designed around children/youth? What is it you look for? What is it that you just can't live without in a leader?

hanging up the apron

well, tonight i hung up my waitress apron, though knowing me probably not for the last time. last february i quit my full time job and took a part time job at a church (www.heritageqc.com) b/c i felt the Lord directing me too. actually i had told God in a previous conversation that i finally got it and if he'd open the door i'd walk. when he opened the door, i didn't think i could really go back and "clarify" with God that the door had to include comparable pay and hours and benefits. so to make ends meet i picked up my apron and headed out to bring quality service with a friendly smile.

here are a few things that i will not miss:
- people who order with their mouth full of crackers thus sharing their abundance of mush with me both visually and artistically on my shirt,
- people who are not ready to order after numerous trips to the table, but then become irrate when you are busy attending to other tables, because they are now ready to order,
- going home smelling of sweat, blue cheese and garlic dressing combined with au jus, lemon and smoke,
- finding your tables dirty, customers wanting water, and silverware missing and realizing that the busboy is MIA,
- customers who demand particular service - special attention and care combined with multiple trips but who do not provide a tip commesiarate with service, - moody cooks.

here are some things i will miss:
-customers like the ones i had last Sunday, a three top, who was taking out a couple of his older aunts and had a wheelchair and were an aboslute delight to wait on, but forgot in trying to get her out in the wheelchair to leave a tip. they called back in that night to let me know they'd be back in a couple days with a tip and this past tuesday stopped in and brought me in a ten dollar tip,
-customers like the party tonight of senior citizens that even though i messed up and even though they had to ask me for something more than once where jovial, patient and understanding and direct all at the same time,
-customers who get attached to ya, wish you well, and who when they ask you your story share a part of their life with you, encouraging you, letting you know that no matter how down you may think you are there is always hope.

i think most of all i'm going to miss the girls/women i waitress with. i've worked at this restuarant 5 times since 1994 and i really feel like i made an impact, like my presence will be missed, like i filled a void. of course, knowing me i'll be back at some point, the challenge of fast cash and quick service to people fits my personality: a people person with anti-social tendencies. :)

revisiting my past

i wrote this about eleven weeks ago, almost 3 months ago, end of May, life seemed very uncertain. i had taken a huge risk finaicially and spiritually and wasn't sure just where i'd land and if i'd have any broken bones when i did. i am always amazed at the force at which God sometimes chooses to send us at. personally, i sometimes think God is an closet adrenaline junkie and yet i find him to be the tenderest of lovers.

title: living life on my terms, well sort of

see lately things have been in a swirl. life has changed and taken new directions. some feel so strange and others quite familiar, like i’ve come out of a dark forest and hit a road i used to chase my sister up when we were kids.

and i have to admit that sometimes i wonder what i’m doing, what was i thinking and just how did i get here. and sometimes i get dragged under by the current of what happens if i fail? what happens if i missed the mark again? what happens if i didn’t hear God’s voice? could it be i’m tone deaf or he’s just signally on a different channel and i’ve got the skipper from Gilligan’s Island shouting directions to me?

then i remember that yes this could all be a disaster, the biggest screw up i’ve ever seen. but it’s mine. there’s something empowering about living life rather than letting life live you. you can sit back and let life happen or you can make life happen. it’s cliche, but true. you get to choose. of course that means being willing to get dirty, take risks and be a failure.

you know, be willing to wake up from that nightmare where you are walking down the school hallway in all your glory, but naked, only to discover it is no dream? it’s real life and yes, they are all staring. it’s scary but freeing really too. i mean think how nice it would be to not have to worry about what to wear each morning, whether your shirt got taken out of the dryer or is still in the dark dryer hole wrinkled and clumped up, or if your pants from last summer will still fit or are even in style anymore which if not, means you’ve got to buy more which means money and that the lovely trip to the clothing store where you realize that not only do last summer’s pants not fit but you probably shouldn’t be wearing your winter pants anymore either cus they are a little too snug too and then you leave feeling like the biggest blob of flab and jostling celluite there is.

yeah, i know walking naked down the school hallway has other complications and worries to it, like where to put your money for lunch in the cafeteria. but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as we thought and maybe it would, but at least we’d have something to tell our grandchildren and make them laugh and think we’re crazy and great rather than that we lived, we breathed and we simply died long before our breath left us.

the skeptic finds hope

i admit sometimes i can be a bit cynical, a closet skeptic, if you will, but recently while reading a book by Bill Hybels I came across this description of the church and well it even gave me goose bumps though i don't like to admit it (truth is i'm just a mushy interior with a slightly thin crust - i'd make a good chocolate bar...hmm..i'm hungry)

There is nothing like the local church when it's working right. Its beauty is indescribable. Its power is breathtaking. Its potential is unlimited. It comforts the grieving and heals the broken in the context of community. It builds bridges to seekers and offers truth to the confused. It provides resources for those in need and opens its arms to the forgotten, the downtrodden, the disillusioned. (that's me)It breaks the chains of addictions, frees the oppressed, and offers belonging to the marginalized of this world. Whatever the capacity for human suffering, the church has a greater capacity for healing and wholeness.

Can I get an Amen?

on another note - i'm quite disullisioned by my blogger spell check when it doesn't recognize the word marginalized.

christian b*

i waitressed tonight and while waiting on a difficult table who are regulars at the resturant another waitress commented that she felt for me. she refuses to wait on them. i can't say that i have flat refused to wait on them, but i have managed to avoid waiting on them or talk someone else into waiting on them. this family is so difficult that two things have happened at the resturant. the first is that there are few waitresses that will wait on them and secondly, our bosses will tip us when we wait on them. if you have ever waited on tables you know that to get to this point means it is a difficult table.

but as i encountered this family at subway and the kids seemingly latched on as i was kind to them, i have had the privilege to wait on them while their "regular" waitress (about the only one who will, having made it her life's missin to show them a little kindness) was gone on vacation, i have been convicted. shouldn't i be the one to show them a little kindness? shouldn't i who profess to follow the Christ be the one serving them? should they be merely something i avoid or push off onto someone else?

this family is in fact every waiter/waitresses nightmare. the children are under foot and they aren't small children. the youngest has behavior problems. the mother and grandmother (not young) are rude to one another. i have heard very few people speak so rudely and harshly to one another. they are demanding, impatient, petty, and rude to us. they are picky and seem to think you have no other tables and expect perfection. yet they also want to talk to you and visit. they all seemed starved for affectin and love; yet it's hard to offer when the old woman is crochety and short and when the child threatens to bite the mother and the mother threatens and does knock his head into the wall at your booth, and the child literally runs loose and says vulgar things at the counter.

so tonight when it came up i was waiting on them and how horrible that must be, i began to try to explain the "art" of being convicted by God i.e. that if i wanted to confess a certain set of values on sunday i had to hold true to them in the real world. i explained that Jesus said when you did it to the "least of these" you did it to him and i can't not do it. when i first started to say this, my friend said, "and don't you start with that christian bul*s***". she did not mean it nasty or mean; it was simply a statement of fact to her.

and it got me thinking. it is bs if you think about it. to treat others not as they treat us but as Christ would. to our thinking it is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, tit for tat, you get what you give, you reap what you sow. yet Jesus urged us, no commanded us, to love our enemies, do good to those who use us, show love to the unlovable, reach out to those society throws away. to man's wisdom such behavior is bs. but to the Christ it is the message that saves - no one is expendable in His Father's kingdom, all are welcome. it is the beauty of the gospel and bs to man's mind, but if applied, like the mud and spit to the blind man's eyes, it is healing to a world that hasn't seen the light for some time.

common secrets

i'm reading Anne Lamott's book Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith and she writes that "nothing helps like letting your ugly common secrets out." and i wanted to scream - Yes! Yes! - but thought the elderly ladies at the table next to me might be scared into heaven at my sudden outburst. but for me that is it in a nutshell, the vein of my existence. perhaps a bit melodramatic, i realize, but i feel so strongly about it. for as long as i can remember there has been a thought in me that could not be put down adequately into words. anne lamott just sealed it so beautifully for me.

as a waitress i've been able to hone in a skill i call 'inner dialogue'. in fact, to wait on tables you have to have this skill along with a fresh, clean filter that holds your inner dialogue from coming out and causing the customer to cough and sputter. your filter serves to only let words that are fresh and flowering smelling come out regardless of the inner dialogue going on. (i would highly recommend Debra Ginsberg's book Waiting which has made me so aware of what i do each night at the table)

let me give you some examples. when i come to a table and they ask me for sesame bread sticks i have to insist with total sincerity that not only do i not mind coming back to their table for the upteeth time but it would be my heart's desire to bring them back bread sticks that they could have asked me to bring when they asked me to bring them lemons for their water which could have been asked for when they asked for more water which could have been asked for when they asked for a clean glass and have now made this my fifth trip to the table in the last two minutes but hey, whose counting. this sarcasm all remains hidden neath a veil, a thin veil i will admit that is subject at times to being pulled off by the right customer or combination of factors (cooks in foul moods, dishwashers moving too slow, busboys who have disappeared and left tables covered with dirty dishes and missing water pitchers and customers who think they are the only table and the restaurant is their personal home dining room). nor do i communicate any feelings but my deepest apologies to the woman who seems put out because the new girl brought her the wrong size salad plate but who, for our sakes, of course, will manage to eat it though she is clearly not okay. i do not communicate to her amidst her sighs and glares that i would like to see her get up off her rear end and learn an 8 page menu with 2 inserts and remember which sandwiches come with soup, which sandwiches come with soup or salad, which sandwiches you offer just fries or you also give them the choice or zucchini or onion rings or fries or remember which dinner gets the large salad that she is so in need of or get the small salads which she is choosing, despite my many repeated offers to bring her a larger one or offer her something else, to eat. i also do not suggest that she place the salad bowl, salad intact with blue cheese dressing, upon her head as i'm sure it would make for a finer dining experience or at the very least make me feel better. thankfully, my filter functions most nights or at least holds up till i get to the back and can of course share my wounds with those who understand.

but see to put this out there, to say that on any given night i think mean and awful thoughts toward people while presenting an image of a person who is genuinely concerned with their dining pleasure and not simply for monetary reasons is like what we do with so many of our 'secret sins' or 'feelings of shame/regret/failure' or whatever else it is that haunts us or we struggle with. and in the maintaining a spiritual filter we isolate ourselves and give more power to that which we try so hard to break free of. i'm not suggesting we all stand up at the next service and reveal every deep and dark secret and sin but merely that we begin within our own unique communities of friends and families and co-workers to have open and honest discussions about our faith and our failures, both our belief and dis-belief in God, to share our moments of sainthood and be honest about our moments of sinnerness (if that's a word).

i think the world is looking for transparency. i think the world just wants to know that their secrets are shared. i think they want to see our lives as they are, broken and wonderful, good and bad, maybe a faith that struggles, but one that is holding on like Jacob of old and refusing to let go and when they do, i think something inside will holler out in them - Yes! Yes!

is your book male or female?

recently i was standing in a christian bookstore, not an abnormal experience for me. me and books...well, we have a love affair going. i love them. i take them everywhere i go. i've got probably seven or eight in my car, three or four in the bathroom and by my bed, a ton more scattered around the apartment and boxes and boxes of books that i'm trying to figure out how to fit in my three room apartment. i mean do i really need a kitchen table? beds are overrated too. my books usually look like they've been through the ringer. i love their shape, the texture of the page, their thinnes or thickness, their smell. yes i admit it. i open books up, especially new or old and leather bound ones and smell them. i need help; it's true.

but the thing is as i stood in the bookstore i became rather irritated and made a discovery. some books are apparently female and some obviously, to everyone but me, male. now let me preface everything i write here. i believe that men and women are different; we process the same information, many times, completely different. i believe that there are some fairly safe assumptions/generalizations that can be made about women and men. we could argue all day if it's because we are born that way or because society shapes us that way. you know, the old nature vs. nurture argument. is it genetics or grandma? i don't know. the truth is probably both and i won't bore you with my closet feminist viewpoints. the fact is there are differences.

so i understand that there will and should be books that speak to men about men's issues and women's books that speak to women about women's issues. issues being those things, that be it because of our in born nature or our society's infauation with pre-defined ideas of masculinity and feminity, that more directly involve one sex or the other. and there will and should be books for men by men and for women by women. i can definitely tell you that my spirituality is deeply rooted in the fact that i am woman. so i get that and for the sake of convenience i understand the whole sectioning off of areas and subsequent labeling of said sections as "Men's Issues" and "Women's Issues".

but tell me is leadership really a man's issue? is money management soley a man's issue? why is that books written on leadership by John Maxwell - books that deal with being a leader be you male or female - fall only under the Men's Section? why is it that books by Billy Graham about pursuing a God ordained path lie in the Men's Section? are we in the christian world that regulated to these ideas of what makes a man a man and a woman a woman that we believe that women obviously don't manage money or have interest in it so those books should go to the Men's Section and women can't or don't care to be leaders or know about living a life of purpose? and while i realize we are different, are we that different? do women really not care about money and being leaders? do men really not care about anything to do with emotions and trying to be perfect and struggling with self esteem? are we so blind that we don't see that potential is lost on both sides when we regulate women to tasks and ideas that are void of leadership in their personal and professional walks as well as zapping men of their potential when we pretend that they do not struggle with deep seated emotional issues as well?

i'm sorry for this seemingly tirade but it bothers me that to pick up a book on leadership by a well known and great author that i must "trespass" into a section that clearly states that if you have the ablility to carry children this isn't for you. or walk to the cash register with a book that the cash register will assume was, of course, bought for my husband.

so i was wondering...are your books male or female?

would Jesus go to Rudy's Tacos?

today i met a friend at Rudy’s Taco. we chatted about relationships, the ups, the downs, my divorce, her girlfriend, what makes a person go to hell or not go to hell, what makes someone right with God. it was a nice to sit and eat, to chat with someone about life and God, to laugh and to share from the heart. but it got me to thinking…

you know the wrist bands that have become so popular. you can find them at just about any retail shop and in just about any color you like. every “cause” has caught on and you can wear one for breast cancer, domestic violence, ending poverty, peace or war. you can advertise your opinions, your experience, your just-about-anything-you-can-name. these wrist bands have combined with another late great fad, the W.W.J.D. (What Would Jesus Do?) movement.

and today’s conversation had me wondering just that. but more than what Jesus would do, i had another question that kept popping up as i drove back to work. W.W.J.G.: Where Would Jesus Go? or perhaps Where Wouldn’t Jesus Go describes my thoughts more accurately. are there places Jesus wouldn’t go? are there places he would avoid, not out of a self-righteous I’m-too-holy-for-this-place, or out of fear that sin would rub off, but rather because it is wrong or for the need to make a statement about some moral or social ill?

if he lived and breathed among us today how would he balance the New Testament call to “abstain from all appearance of evil” and yet be the man that appalled the religious leaders of his day, a man they said was a ‘glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and “sinners?” ’

i'm old - the proof is in the oreo's

so i'm taking care of a midnight craving for oreo cookies at my local hy-vee store. problem is i can't find the oreos. yes i know they are in the cookie aisle and i know what they look like. but i can't find them. or more accurately i can't find the kind i want. i can find peanut butter creme oreo cookies and mint creme oreo cookies and chocolate creme oreo cookies (all double stuf). there are, of course, several double stuf oreo cookies for my tasting enjoyment, but no plain old original oreo cookies. that's all i wanted. just plain old oreo cookies.

after much scanning i locate them on the next to last shelf from the bottom. all the way to the right a few spare packages sit. it's not that they are so popular that there's only a few left. no it's all the space hy-vee has chosen to spare this original form of oreo cookie. and this isn't the first time i've had this experience in a cookie aisle looking for oreo cookies.

so i think to myself, at 12:33 AM, now irritated rather than delighted at my found package of original oreo cookies, "what is wrong with the original? what? they aren't good enough? what happen to this oreo cookie being the latest and greatest in cookie invention and dunking sensation?" i found myself wondering what had happened to this world. where had we gone wrong? wishing for the good old days when original oreo cookies were the bomb! and they didn't have to compete with these new fangled cookies, when they were just good enough and we were happy with original oreo cookies.

and as i passed my money over to the lady at the cash register, it happened. i turned old.

waiting for the other shoe to drop

i've been thinking about faith lately cus there's something out there that i want and i just don't want it but i believe it is in His plan. but i also know that the path i see may not be the path He chooses. i also know that i need Him to come through. i'm at the end of everything. i find myself trying to be hopeful and not get my hopes up. i'm trying to rest my faith not on what i believe He will or won't do but upon His person, that no matter what i'll be okay.

when my mother was going through cancer lots of people came to me and told me that God was going to heal her. they said God had to heal her because of how strong her faith was. they said God had to heal her because so many people were praying. i know they meant well and i am sure that many would be surprised to discover that behind my rehearsed "thank you" and regurgitated smile their comments actually made me angry. unless they had a direct line from the Almighty they just could not guarantee things. now don't get me wrong. i believe that God can heal. i do not doubt his ability. nor do i question His love for us. i just wonder if we understand the God we serve, one not manipulated by attaining a certain number of prayers.

in fact i found that idea - that simply because i have enough faith or pray long enough or hard enough or get the right number of people to pray that that means God will come through - contrary to what i found in God's word. look at stephen. stoned to death. yet was his faith not great? did people not pray? look at the many who laid by the pool of bethesda and yet we know of only one that was healed on the day Jesus passed by. we know that even though Jesus raised lazarus from the dead he still had to die, a point we seem to sometimes play down. and what about the three hebrew children who stood before a fiery furnance and when asked about their God and whether He would save them did not say "yes He will" or "we know He will", but rather that He, their God, was capable of saving them but whether He did or didn't, didn't alter their decision. they trusted in the character of God over God's ability to do a certain act. they trusted that God would do what was best and see them through.

and i found through my mother's cancer a bit of that faith. i have learned to trust God's character. i have come to have faith in who God is and not simply what He will do when i pray. i believe that God can heal, but i also believe that God sees eternity and the lives of many who interact in ways we cannot fathom and that if it brings glory to His name He may choose a path i did not see or like. i also believe that God's idea of healing and my idea can be quite distant from one another, because i am limited by my human frailty and can see only this life and it's attachment to this earth.

this has been good for me...this learning to trust His character. learning to know that He will take care of me because He is a good God who wants to bring good into my life. i find more stability and less emotional flipping and flopping as i gain more knowledge of just who my God is.

and yet there are times when i feel the almost spiritual urging to hope for something specific and i hem and haw. i go back to my recent lessons on trusting in His character and that faith is based not on His actions but on who He is. but if i am honest i have to admit that there is part of me that reasons that that is simply a cover up, a way to avoid believing in the here and now, in hoping for something good from God's hand.

see even though the three hebrew children never said they believed that God would save them and their faith was not based on that, i can't help but feel a sense of hope. i can't but believe that they were hoping, wanting, and believing that He would save them knowing that regardless of the outcome they'd be okay. and see that's it...i just don't trust the outcome.

the hebrew children stated that their God could save them but they would serve Him either way. i say, "i believe God can save me and i'll serve Him no matter what, but just for the record He probably won't come through". truth is i still want control. it's like walking out on a limb. you can walk out trusting it will support you and knowing if it doesn't God's got your fall. but let's face it folks if you walk out and you know ahead of time it's gonna fall it sure helps. i mean that way you can prepare yourself for the fall, position your legs just so. you can look down at the bottom and try to shift your weight to soften the blow. and therein lies the problem. faith gives up control. faith trusts. truth is i don't to walk out believing the limb will hold to suddenly find myself free falling and trying to figure out a plan B mid-fall. and that is where my faith gets stunted. faith walks out believing the limb will hold. faith walks out knowing that if it doesn't hold it doesn't have to find plan B - a limb on the way down, a softer bit of grass to land on, or flap it's wings to stay air borne - it knows that God will offer the limb, be our pillow or our wind. He doesn't need me to do anything...but trust.

see i'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. there's still a part of me that believes He just might not come through. i just might not be all right in the end. there's fear there that doesn't let me let go and enjoy the fall. but somewhere in there i still feel this urging to hope and to hope for something specific and good and real and tangible, never negating that God is soveriegn.

for the first time maybe i understand the man's request in the bible. Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief.

faces, hipbones and names

genesis 32:22-32

I don’t want you to win,
to take your leave of me.
I want my socket to slip,
to ride loose because you
could not rid yourself of me.

I want to speak with
such insistence that holds you
to me till you name that
which not even I can see.

And when the sun shines down
my path will be marked, not nice
and neat, but by one who limps.

And those who follow will know
that a life wrestled is a
life changed
a life that has seen the Face
is a life spared.

Thomas Merton

i came across this prayer the other day and well it so captured what i feel. it says what i cannot seem to say to God. it seems lately i feel on the brink of something...something great or just a temper tantrum fit. i just know that i want God to come through; i'm waiting for the sun to come just over the horizon. instead i find myself getting very acquainted with the 5 o'clock sky - that muted blue. and i'm trying to trust. to know that the sun may not rise here yet but it's a shining somewhere. it's there. even my muted blue sky tells me there is light, just at the edge, pushing the midnight blue sky further and further out.

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Thomas Merton, "Thoughts in Solitude"

Waitress No-No's

In no specific order, they are:

1. NO snapping your fingers. We are not dogs and do not respond to snapping, psst...psst, or "here waitress, waitress."
2. Do not holler across the restaurant "Miss", "Miss". If we do not respond we either can't because of some pressing obligation, can't hear you or it is possible we are ignoring you for a reason.
3. Do not interrupt another customer's order to tell us something.
4. Do not order with your mouth full of crackers. Not only is it disgusting, but we go home smelling as it is. no need to add your saliva to our sweat or grease.
5. Please speak up. We can carry large trays of food, leap over chairs and running children, and make food appear but we cannot hear you when you whisper.
6. Do look at us when ordering or asking for something. We are not your maid or servant or slave and therefore it is customary to respond to us as if we were a living, breathing, soul.
7. Do not talk on your cell phone when ordering. Either have the person you are with ready to give your order, asking the person on the phone to hold on and order, or...imagine this...turn off the phone completely and tell the person you'll call them back.
8. Do not let your child run the restuarant. It is not their personal jungle gym.
9. Do not leave a Jesus track, but no tip. And for that matter, if we see you bow your head in prayer it is so vital that you do number 6 and smile. And even exercise a little patience especially if we screw something up...you do remember that little thing called grace, right?
10. Don't be cheap. And if you are going to be cheap than at least don't be picky and be patient and make us laugh.

3 years and a buck eighty five

so i'm reading TIME magazine and they have this section called numbers where they list odd, unusual or perplexing statistics. example: there was an 80% decrease in the risk of alcoholic cirrhosis that can result from drinking four cups of coffee a day, according to a new study. this number is followed with this statistic: average cups of coffee drunk by the average american each day...3.2 cups. interesting. light. thought provoking.

the numbers that caught my eye though had little to do with our drinking habits. according to the magazine a woman in pennsylvania was sentenced to 3 years for telling her 6 year old daughter to steal a firefighting squad's fund raising jar. guess how much was in the jar? that's right folks. $1.85. the woman was a heroin addict apparently and told police that she needed it for gas money. now that may or may not be true and at current gas rates would have gotten her to the next fire station house if she was lucky (pardon the sarcasm). but i question the reasoning of a society that sentences a woman to 3 years for encouraging her child to steal what amounts to change on the bottom of my car floor.

perhaps it's not so much her sentencing that bothers me. i'm all for tough love and who knows the woman's background and the number of times she has been in trouble with the police and social agencies. and obviously encouraging a child to steal, especially your own, is never ideal and it is safe to assume the child is being exposed or taught other things that are not healthy or good besides stealing. it's the other statistics that bother me I guess.

take for example that according to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, state statistics showed that the average sentence in 1998 for a single count felony sex crime which included rape and child molestation was 4 1/2 years. would the woman have gotten 4 1/2 years if there had been .90 more cents in the fundraising jar. and that is a statistic that is repeated over and over or so it seems the media would have us believe.

now i don't want to sound uncaring. i do not believe that locking "them" all up is the solution and i question whether or not limiting where sex offenders can live is going to decrease child molestation when statistics (more numbers) show that most children are abused not by the man leering out from behind his curtain down the block from the school yard but by an uncle, a brother, a next door neighbor or grandpa. having worked with juvenile sex offenders i know that the problem is not as simple as we want to believe. our laws that restrict may be more a desire to ease our fears but not really do anything to fix the problem. but that's a whole another rant.

i just wonder where we pull the numbers, the years we choose to take or make a person give up for their crime. i believe laws are there and when broken there are and should be consequences. and i'm thankful that i'm not a judge or God because i'd probably blast someone to the moon that needed a little more grace and one more chance and let an axe murderer go out the door.

in the end i just am perplexed at the value we place on a soul/a spirit, when until the current century, abusing a child: contributing to the loss of something so essential and precious and that has not just emotional costs to the individual and family but economical and socieital impacts years down the line (think of lost labor and revenue because people cannot reach their potential or end up on drugs or on the streets or with mental issues who we support because they cannot work) costs you only 5 years of your life and stealing, albeit encouraging the delinquency of a minor, for a $1.85 gets you three.

toss the pants? keep the pants?

i have this…i guess you could call it a dilemma, though i don’t know if that is really the right word for it. it seems somehow, somewhere along the way, i’ve begun accumulating hurts. wounds. as if i picked them up in a bag while hunting for seashells or like burrs as you walk through a field. you know one is annoying but sometimes you don’t even notice it for awhile and before long you emerge on the gravel road and both of your pant leg bottoms are covered in them. and they can be tricky to remove and you usually end up sticking yourself in the process. sometimes it’s better to just take the pants off (of course, not on the gravel road) and toss ‘em. which is what brings me to my present dilemma.

see i have this relationship with a good friend and her husband, who i would also call a friend. somewhere in time something was said that shouldn’t have been said. i don’t know why it was said and i’m pretty sure it wasn’t mean exactly the way it came out and yet, it was a pretty direct comment so it revealed some of what was probably thought of me. now this person has apologized and not one of those cheap apologies that says “if I hurt you i’m sorry” or “i’m sorry you took it the wrong way”. it was a sincere apology that said “i’m sorry that something i said hurt you, that somehow i was careless with my words in a way that wounded you.” now this individual also, i think, thought i was being a bit sensitive but they still apologized and i think that counts for something. and i said i forgive and by god’s grace i do, but then again maybe my “do” is more a “sort of”.

‘cus see now i feel like a meteor has landed right in the middle of our path and we stand divided. each of us on one side. and it’s not fair b/c it wasn’t even her that said it, but i can’t help but wonder if the words he spoke echoed both their sentiments on some level. no one has denied saying the words or that they meant some version of them, only that perhaps i was being sensitive or misunderstood and that perhaps they did not communicate their idea the best way. so here we sit. each on one side. now the question is how do i proceed. do i just head on down through the damage, the hot coals under my feet and meet her and we work it out? Or do we build a bridge over it? Or do we just build a path around it? sometimes i think with wounds you have to plunge into the hot mess and get burned and build right the road right on top to get through it. i also think sometimes it’s best to find a way to acknowledge but no need to test the land to see if it’s still good. just build a bridge over it and go forward. and other times it’s best to leave it alone. that doesn’t mean to ignore it or pretend it didn’t happen but i think many times we have this idea that we need to “discuss it” and that is really just a camouflage for our desire, and maybe even on some level need, to be heard. and wonder how much grace is at work when we trudge forward to “fix” a problem and tell our side. we unburden ourselves but have created a burden for someone else. and that is really what i want to offer. grace. i mean, like i’ve never exploded on someone, never been tired and said something i didn’t mean or worded something the wrong way and it just came out different than i meant, or said something i meant but a lot harsher than it needed to be. and when i do, don’t i want grace? don’t i hope, even expect, forgiveness?

truth is the question isn’t so much what to do. that is really the easy part. you pick one and move forward and adjust as needed. i’m of the camp that doing something is usually better than doing nothing. i am no fan of passivity. i think what bothers me as i sit on the edge, dangle my feet and sigh is that i’m just not sure i want to bother and that is where i feel awful. this is a person who has been a good friend to me. a loyal friend. and for one moment of humanity i’m going to chuck it all? and yet i am just not sure that i have the energy to handle one more hurt. that seems so self pity like and i hate it, but it’s the truth at this point. the bad timing isn’t the words that were spoken, my misunderstanding or their poor communication, or the time of day. the bad timing is that it occurs after one too many of them. and again that seems so pathetic and “poor me”. i guess part of the reason i hesitate to move forward is that over the last year i’ve exposed my vulnerability and some of the inner core of me and ive taken help. the words that were spoken make me wonder if somehow the dynamics have changed; the power has shifted in some way. i don’t do well with self righteousness or people who assume they are not capable of the same things i am. and yes i know that that very statement carries with it the very scent of self-righteousness. but i don’t do well with self exposure. oh this i can handle. this is me choosing to show myself, not you walking in on me butt naked. it’s one thing to choose to walk down the school hallway naked as a jay bird (which i have no idea why a jay bird is more naked than, say a cardinal) and another to wake up at home and all your drawers are empty and you have no choice but to walk naked down the hallway.

and that’s where i sit, at the edge, feet dangling, knowing i’ve changed, knowing she’s changed, we all do, knowing ain’t podoy nerfect, thankful for their friendship and loyalty and yet feeling adrift in the relationship, distant and not sure if i could get through, around, or by that i have the energy to do so. that i want to bother and that my friends is a very sad reality.

i've been the "bother" before in someone's else life and that's a hurt i don't know will ever be erased. i find lately that i just want to “take my pants off and toss them” and that scares me.

grace and bologna

most people i'm sure are wondering how in the world one gets grace with bologna or bologna with grace. i mean, who thinks of oscar mayer when hearing about grace, be it God's grace or the grace of a dancer. and when you bite into a bologna sandwich made from your fridge at home i doubt you're thinking about Christ crucified or the way a ballerina shimmers on her toes across stage. it's not like you can order a side of grace when you are eating at a restaurant and you order a sandwich but i guess that is what i'm after. see, grace to me that you could order along with your swiss reuben or monte cristo is the grace i'm after. now i realize there are those that would argue pursuing such a grace cheapens it. grace that can be ordered at your local fast food restaurant or picked up off a shelf at the five and dime store in the strip mall by the gas station is cheap. and the good Lord knows i don't mean to devalue His grace or love or sacrifice, but i think sometimes we've made grace more about our convenience than about being accessible.

see, i think if we were totally honest sometimes grace that is revered and lovely is...well, easier for us to digest. it's simple and pure. we can take from it in orchestrated moments we call church. now don't get me wrong. i love church and find those moments that have been prepared and thought out and labored over in love can bring me to the throne of God and send me reeling with such awesomeness. and that's great because that is grace in motion, in action. it is by grace that we get to stroll right into the arms of God as he reclines in His easy chair taking great pleasure in us and enjoying our company. grace makes those orchestrated moments possible. without grace all the practice and talent in the world is well...pretty music, but not passion infused with a divine presence. without grace our praise does not become tangible, but put grace in there like hot salsa and you get something that lacks words.

quite honestly i think grace should be a verb really. grace by its very design was meant to be lived in all our moments, unorchestrated or orchestrated. grace is found in the beauty of musicians that have come together with one purpose and one heart using their talents to glorify God and usher us in to His heavenly living room. but grace is also found in moments when i least expect it. when someone offers a stranger a smile or maybe pays for someone's meal for absolutely no reason other than it is within their power to do so. grace is opening your home. grace is listening. grace is praying for someone because you can. grace is sharing your struggles and weaknesses as well as from your riches and strength. grace is about being honest about who you are...and being honest about what grace has made you and is making you.

grace is meant to follow us and fill us wherever we go. it's not something we come to or enjoy when the weather is right. it should be our very air. and grace is meant to not be cheap but it is meant to be accessible to everyone. and i guess i just long for grace that i can get out of the fridge just like i do bologna. i hunger for grace that i can eat that will fill me up, taste like chocolate or even broccoli when good clean healthy food is what i really need and am craving but don't even know it. i want grace that translates to real life, real people so when i'm waitressing and there's a chance to talk about my God and His grace it's doable, it connects, it makes sense, and well it seems not necessarily convenient but available to someone no matter what. see anyone that i allow to come into my home, can if they want (though i might cringe at their lack of manners) grab from my fridge. the reality is that people are grabbing from us all the time and we them. when you engage in relationships with people, grabbing happens. so what are people grabbing when they grab bologna from my fridge?

do they get a chance to rub up against the grace i have there or did i leave grace at the store (church) where it's better able to stay "fresh"?

why write

so here i am writing assuming that there are people out there who care to here what i have to say. of course, the mere expression of my rambling thoughts has always been a minor point behind why i write. truth is i find writing to be more a selfish pursuit, an egotistical one if you will. i write because i have a need to. it's really that simple. i write because somehow by placing words, letters arranged in a certain way, onto paper i somehow validate myself. i make those things that aren't tangible, tangible. (in a way, it is when i write that i feel the closest to God, but that's another post) somehow rage and joy become something i can digest and insurmountable problems becomes mountains i can somehow find a way to traverse over. so that's really why i write. i find i need to write in a way just like my body had normal bodily functions. it's necessary, crucial to not becoming bloated or sick to the stomach. yes i know that's a bit extreme and gross but that's reality for me.

i also have to admit that i'm fascinated by words, their meanings, where they came from. i'm always getting online and looking up words on www.m-w.com. there's no great intellectual reason. i never use the words in speech and most of the time forget the specific meanings within in minutes. but it's like infatuation. a look soon forgot, a flower that's fragrance will be lost. but for that moment a word becomes illuminated and sometimes when i'm reading, especially the bible, it opens up a new path. things click and i get it.

i love how words appear on the page, how punctuation or the lack of it changes a person's perception, how if you write a poem and place one word at the end of a line or on the next line it can change the meaning several degrees. it can intensify a feeling or alter it completely. i am intrigued by how two people can read the exact same thing on paper and it can evoke completely different emotions, angering one and amusing the other. that's the kind of writing i want to do. writing that evokes some emotion; writing that puts together two images, like writing and bodily functions, that you wouldn't expect, that makes you stop and see things maybe in ways you haven't.

now i have no clue if i accomplish that but that is what i long to do.