How do I live increasingly in God's love, and not in a system, a structure, in a set of rituals, or rules, or in traditions and assumed truths?
And what about this "us and them" mentality that defines the Other, but doesn't delve into what that means or who the Other really are and why we feel that they are Other?
Like the word Liberal.
There is political liberalism and conservatism, and there is social l-ism and c-ism, all about different issues and to differing degrees, and within one person there are often extremes of both.
Yet I and others often have the idea that any two terms, two labels, cannot coexist. And attempting to verbalize feelings of the Other makes matters worse, because words are loaded. Culturally and individually.
This especially happens to me when I'm not even directly involved, but rather telling how two people or groups interacted and why one felt like the other was Other.
I don't go into detail (because it's not my story really, or because I want to allow a margin of privacy), and instead search for the lexical shortcut through the conversation, and butcher meaning with words.
If explanation is demanded I can use more words to say what I meant by "liberal atmosphere" or "Christian values". I can enumerate which "liberal" aspect was in mind, or to which "values" that are often (but not exclusively) promoted in Judeo-Christian circles I was refering.
I both love and hate words, for their beauty and use, and for their shortcomings.
But beyond that, how can I move past seeing others as the Other, taking shortcuts that increase verbal inadequacy and decrease relational possibility?
After writing this, I realized this is a prime example of Donald Miller's Lifeboat Theory: that we all act like we're in a lifeboat, and we have to prove our worth so that we don't get rejected and thrown overboard to drown.
I act like I'm in a lifeboat even though I don't want to. My value does not come from my "rank" in the hierarchy. I don't have to prove that I'm worth loving and accepting. I matter because I am one loved by God. How difficult a thing it is to try to live in the truth that the mechanism with which I've lived my whole life doesn't actually make any sense or have any value whatsoever.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Home for Christmas
...and New Year's, and the whole first month of 2009.
That's right: I moved back in with Mom and Dad on Monday. So far it's going well, I've been unpacking and reading and helped decorate the tree and I'm fighting a head cold. There are definitely adjustments to returning to Sanford after 5 years of my life being in Greensboro. Here's to adjusting.
Also, here's to "Preparation," as I've dubbed the next month and a half. External preparations, like making lists (yay!), collecting needed items, buying a ticket, tying up financial loose ends, and packing; also there are internal preparations, like spending quality time with family and friends, and enjoying the wide margin I currently live in - free of work and other weekly or daily commitments - to spend time in prayer and reading and journaling and discussing: generally, being open to God solidifying any stages of my mental, emotional, and spiritual growth that he wants to before I go. As L told me at lunch on Saturday (by the way, thanks again -- it was great!), "Growth. Do it."
Okay, after a morning of unpacking (and repacking for storage), emailing, changing addresses, and walking the dog, I'm going out to the post office and to do some Christmas shopping! Maybe I'll even hit up THE coffeeshop.
That's right: I moved back in with Mom and Dad on Monday. So far it's going well, I've been unpacking and reading and helped decorate the tree and I'm fighting a head cold. There are definitely adjustments to returning to Sanford after 5 years of my life being in Greensboro. Here's to adjusting.
Also, here's to "Preparation," as I've dubbed the next month and a half. External preparations, like making lists (yay!), collecting needed items, buying a ticket, tying up financial loose ends, and packing; also there are internal preparations, like spending quality time with family and friends, and enjoying the wide margin I currently live in - free of work and other weekly or daily commitments - to spend time in prayer and reading and journaling and discussing: generally, being open to God solidifying any stages of my mental, emotional, and spiritual growth that he wants to before I go. As L told me at lunch on Saturday (by the way, thanks again -- it was great!), "Growth. Do it."
Okay, after a morning of unpacking (and repacking for storage), emailing, changing addresses, and walking the dog, I'm going out to the post office and to do some Christmas shopping! Maybe I'll even hit up THE coffeeshop.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Searching for I Know What
Twice recently, I’ve been freaking out a little bit, and author Donald Miller walked right in, set right down, and let his thoughts hang out. That is why I love reading. Well, partly.
The first time, I was having a tough day. Actually, I didn’t realize I was having a tough day until my loving friend told me I was acting combative and asked what was up. I thought I was just being quippy, but my comments were a little too sharp and not well-executed enough to cover myself.
Often, by realizing one has a problem, recovery can begin. Not so on this Saturday. Maybe it was because I couldn’t find the root of the issue.
So instead, I went through cycles of attempted wit, shutting down and shutting up, feeling really needy, and wanting to deny my needs and claim that I AM AN ISLAND.
It’s really difficult to own needs and then live in their unfulfillment.
Of course, the need for companionship and connection with others often gets distorted, so I find myself using people and attention as a soul hit to fill me up and numb me out, instead of just enjoying friendships for the beautiful gifts that they are.
So after a full Saturday of this needy, angry, empty, skewed feeling I went to bed. The next morning I woke up, read a favorite psalm, and then picked up Searching for God Knows What, which I’m re-reading after a few years of it sitting on a shelf. This is the part where ole Don pulled up a chair and explained some things about humans to me again. He reminded me that humans are made to look outside of themselves for meaning and identity and security. That the concept of “The Fall” is where that mechanism (the good, created need) got turned upside-down. That when humanity decided to trust themselves instead of God, the perfect relationship was broken. The source of fulfillment was severed, cut off. And ever since we’ve been searching searching searching to find what we lost, what we chose to give up.
So on that Saturday, I wanted to be liked, to be funny, to be admired, to be desired, to be everything to everyone, or at least to someone. I wanted those things so that I could feel whole.
That Sunday morning I remembered that they’ll never be enough to fill me up, to put me back together. With a quick and quiet, “Jesus, I’m sorry. Thank you for loving me no matter what,” I felt the burn of wine down my throat and into my core as he reminded me that he’s always here, waiting for me to turn again to the only one who can walk right in to that void.
(Unless the Lord builds a house, the work of the builders is useless. Unless the Lord protects a city, guarding it with sentries is no good. It is useless for you to work from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones. Psalm 127)
The first time, I was having a tough day. Actually, I didn’t realize I was having a tough day until my loving friend told me I was acting combative and asked what was up. I thought I was just being quippy, but my comments were a little too sharp and not well-executed enough to cover myself.
Often, by realizing one has a problem, recovery can begin. Not so on this Saturday. Maybe it was because I couldn’t find the root of the issue.
So instead, I went through cycles of attempted wit, shutting down and shutting up, feeling really needy, and wanting to deny my needs and claim that I AM AN ISLAND.
It’s really difficult to own needs and then live in their unfulfillment.
Of course, the need for companionship and connection with others often gets distorted, so I find myself using people and attention as a soul hit to fill me up and numb me out, instead of just enjoying friendships for the beautiful gifts that they are.
So after a full Saturday of this needy, angry, empty, skewed feeling I went to bed. The next morning I woke up, read a favorite psalm, and then picked up Searching for God Knows What, which I’m re-reading after a few years of it sitting on a shelf. This is the part where ole Don pulled up a chair and explained some things about humans to me again. He reminded me that humans are made to look outside of themselves for meaning and identity and security. That the concept of “The Fall” is where that mechanism (the good, created need) got turned upside-down. That when humanity decided to trust themselves instead of God, the perfect relationship was broken. The source of fulfillment was severed, cut off. And ever since we’ve been searching searching searching to find what we lost, what we chose to give up.
So on that Saturday, I wanted to be liked, to be funny, to be admired, to be desired, to be everything to everyone, or at least to someone. I wanted those things so that I could feel whole.
That Sunday morning I remembered that they’ll never be enough to fill me up, to put me back together. With a quick and quiet, “Jesus, I’m sorry. Thank you for loving me no matter what,” I felt the burn of wine down my throat and into my core as he reminded me that he’s always here, waiting for me to turn again to the only one who can walk right in to that void.
(Unless the Lord builds a house, the work of the builders is useless. Unless the Lord protects a city, guarding it with sentries is no good. It is useless for you to work from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones. Psalm 127)
Friday, November 21, 2008
and about that money...
Asking for money is always difficult, even if it's from someone who is "supposed" to give you money (e.g. your parents, when you're growing up; or your boss, for a raise). And I find it difficult to accept money that I don't feel like I've worked for. So raising support to go work in Colombia next a year has been an exercise in confronting my own stigmas and shifting the way I see money and merit.
When a work for a for-profit business (like a restaurant), or for the community college (which is government funded), I feel like I can do with my paycheck whatever I decide, because I worked for it! We signed a contract: I will work, the company will pay $X per hour, and we each hold up our end of the deal. Of course, I still have all kinds of ideas (both learned and instinctual, I think) about what I should do with said money, and that complicates the matter, turning it into a moral issue. But when I directly ASK my friends, family, and acquaintances, as well as the acquaintances of my friends, family or acquaintances for money, things get more awkward and tricky.
For example, how much do I allot myself per month if there's extra money? And what do I do with the extra? Don't people on the mission field put money into savings? But isn't there a difference between me going for a year and people who go for their entire lives? Well, maybe this extra money will be for an emergency... or maybe I can support a special project or another volunteer, in a pinch... What about when I want or need to get away for a little while? How much money can I use from my donations for that? Or should I use my own money for recreation?
I've already begun to work through some of the tentative answers to these questions, but all the thoughts are real, and they're there, and I feel like I have to be uber-responsible with this money that people with faces and names have parceled out to me. It doesn't come in the form of a check from the state treasury, signed by a person whose name I've never bothered to notice.
Also, there's the twist of "I don't like to receive money I don't feel I've earned, but I'm happy to give charitable donations to organizations who distribute it to 'the needy', and I occasionally give directly to individuals." Why do I think the recipients of my charity don't have the same feelings as I do? Why do I claim control in the situation? Do I strip their dignity by denying them a fair exchange? How can I change that system of unreciprocated charity? There is value in work, and receiving fair compensation for it. There is also value in cheerful donations to those in need.
Focusing in more on the previous post's quote, what about the fact that giving a donation (cheerful or obligatory) can feel like I've done my duty and can check "service to the poor and/or needy" off my list? In our currency-driven economy, money is necessary, but it's so much easier to replace love, compassion, personal contact and attention, with a donation. Or a cup of coffee. Or some change scrounged out from the bottom of my purse, in a hurried moment of interaction while I hold my breath and try to make sense of the babbling, wondering what is true and what is lie and what is mental illness? It doesn't get to the bottom. Can we ever "get to the bottom" of the problems? Are there any solutions?
It makes me think of the concept of "kingdom efficiency" again. That while God was on earth, he spent his good 'ministry years' hanging out with a rag-tag crew of people who didn't really understand what it was all about until after he died.
This morning I woke up remembering a time in high school where I made it quite evident to the entire student body how unloving and self-righteous I was. And I didn't even realize it. Sure, I was just 16, but I thought I had it together. The crazy thing is, until that moment this morning I had only been embarrassed by that memory on a personal level, not ashamed and repentant.
I guess what I'm getting at is: more love, less efficiency.
Money is necessary in our currency-driven economies. It's just one more thing to figure out how to use as an agent of love and service, and not to assume that I know what's best, or think that it exists to serve me.
When a work for a for-profit business (like a restaurant), or for the community college (which is government funded), I feel like I can do with my paycheck whatever I decide, because I worked for it! We signed a contract: I will work, the company will pay $X per hour, and we each hold up our end of the deal. Of course, I still have all kinds of ideas (both learned and instinctual, I think) about what I should do with said money, and that complicates the matter, turning it into a moral issue. But when I directly ASK my friends, family, and acquaintances, as well as the acquaintances of my friends, family or acquaintances for money, things get more awkward and tricky.
For example, how much do I allot myself per month if there's extra money? And what do I do with the extra? Don't people on the mission field put money into savings? But isn't there a difference between me going for a year and people who go for their entire lives? Well, maybe this extra money will be for an emergency... or maybe I can support a special project or another volunteer, in a pinch... What about when I want or need to get away for a little while? How much money can I use from my donations for that? Or should I use my own money for recreation?
I've already begun to work through some of the tentative answers to these questions, but all the thoughts are real, and they're there, and I feel like I have to be uber-responsible with this money that people with faces and names have parceled out to me. It doesn't come in the form of a check from the state treasury, signed by a person whose name I've never bothered to notice.
Also, there's the twist of "I don't like to receive money I don't feel I've earned, but I'm happy to give charitable donations to organizations who distribute it to 'the needy', and I occasionally give directly to individuals." Why do I think the recipients of my charity don't have the same feelings as I do? Why do I claim control in the situation? Do I strip their dignity by denying them a fair exchange? How can I change that system of unreciprocated charity? There is value in work, and receiving fair compensation for it. There is also value in cheerful donations to those in need.
Focusing in more on the previous post's quote, what about the fact that giving a donation (cheerful or obligatory) can feel like I've done my duty and can check "service to the poor and/or needy" off my list? In our currency-driven economy, money is necessary, but it's so much easier to replace love, compassion, personal contact and attention, with a donation. Or a cup of coffee. Or some change scrounged out from the bottom of my purse, in a hurried moment of interaction while I hold my breath and try to make sense of the babbling, wondering what is true and what is lie and what is mental illness? It doesn't get to the bottom. Can we ever "get to the bottom" of the problems? Are there any solutions?
It makes me think of the concept of "kingdom efficiency" again. That while God was on earth, he spent his good 'ministry years' hanging out with a rag-tag crew of people who didn't really understand what it was all about until after he died.
This morning I woke up remembering a time in high school where I made it quite evident to the entire student body how unloving and self-righteous I was. And I didn't even realize it. Sure, I was just 16, but I thought I had it together. The crazy thing is, until that moment this morning I had only been embarrassed by that memory on a personal level, not ashamed and repentant.
I guess what I'm getting at is: more love, less efficiency.
Money is necessary in our currency-driven economies. It's just one more thing to figure out how to use as an agent of love and service, and not to assume that I know what's best, or think that it exists to serve me.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
micro-charity at home (and abroad?)
"The sad fact is, distant acts of macro-charity will always be easier. As much as we're told that money has its hold on society, time and empathy are the real commodities people are unwilling to part with. We're all for helping the broken and downtrodden, just not on our ride home after a long day. The life Jesus actually calls us to... is one that gets down in the muck of the human experience and live with the people there...
"While supporting global cuases is both necessary and noble, we can't be self-satisfied in our efforts if we ignore the hurting people around us... Am I being naive in believing we can make a difference locally without sacrificing our concern globally? ... will we take a risk to put a face to the problems we give lip service to?"
-Adam Smith, "Bus Stops and Missed Opportunities" Relevant Magazine, Nov-Dec 2008
You probably know that I'm often wondering about what I'll do after my year in Bogota. Will one year turn into two, a few, several, a life? Or will it be: one year? Will I go to another country, or return to my own? If I come back to live in the States, I wonder which one I'll go to, and what I'll do. Work? Study? Live in community? Live on a farm in exchange for my labor? Come back to Greensboro?
This is where that cry for FOCUS! comes back in, and article's like Smith's in Relevant this month make me question the practice of leaving our homelands to go work with people in other places. A note, though: the author is an American currently living in New Zealand. Maybe the "hurting people around us" really can be just whoever is around me, regardless of where I am? Maybe my location matters less than my actions? But as long as I'm here, I can't defer my "helping the broken and downtrodden", putting it off for February.
I already feel myself pulling back a bit here in Greensboro. I'm standing against it -- trying to stay connected and involved -- but there are some things that seem less important than they would if I were going to be staying around for more than just another month.
I love Greensboro, and it's been a great home, and it's been especially beautiful to me this year, knowing I'm leaving it. But there is definitely a part of me that thinks I won't be moving back to the Gate City. I can't say yet if I think I'll be moving back to N.C., or to the U.S. of A.
I'm thankful I don't have to know yet.
I'll try to reflect on the money aspect of that excerpt in another post.
"While supporting global cuases is both necessary and noble, we can't be self-satisfied in our efforts if we ignore the hurting people around us... Am I being naive in believing we can make a difference locally without sacrificing our concern globally? ... will we take a risk to put a face to the problems we give lip service to?"
-Adam Smith, "Bus Stops and Missed Opportunities" Relevant Magazine, Nov-Dec 2008
You probably know that I'm often wondering about what I'll do after my year in Bogota. Will one year turn into two, a few, several, a life? Or will it be: one year? Will I go to another country, or return to my own? If I come back to live in the States, I wonder which one I'll go to, and what I'll do. Work? Study? Live in community? Live on a farm in exchange for my labor? Come back to Greensboro?
This is where that cry for FOCUS! comes back in, and article's like Smith's in Relevant this month make me question the practice of leaving our homelands to go work with people in other places. A note, though: the author is an American currently living in New Zealand. Maybe the "hurting people around us" really can be just whoever is around me, regardless of where I am? Maybe my location matters less than my actions? But as long as I'm here, I can't defer my "helping the broken and downtrodden", putting it off for February.
I already feel myself pulling back a bit here in Greensboro. I'm standing against it -- trying to stay connected and involved -- but there are some things that seem less important than they would if I were going to be staying around for more than just another month.
I love Greensboro, and it's been a great home, and it's been especially beautiful to me this year, knowing I'm leaving it. But there is definitely a part of me that thinks I won't be moving back to the Gate City. I can't say yet if I think I'll be moving back to N.C., or to the U.S. of A.
I'm thankful I don't have to know yet.
I'll try to reflect on the money aspect of that excerpt in another post.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
"Merry Christmas, America! Who did we get?" and Empathy
"America has sent a good message to the world. ... Yesterday I received about ten phone calls from Ghana asking me if it was true, or if the media was lying to them." Was the U.S., in fact, electing an African-American as the head of state?
Talking politics with my Ghanain co-worker this season has been fun. Even though he won't become a citizen until next year and, therefore, couldn't vote, he's been one of the most enthusiastic followers of the campaigning. Every day I saw him at work he asked me if I'd heard the latest news, or if I'd watched the debate, or if I'd finally made up my mind. Once he even offered to make me some cream puffs if I would just make my decision (but I never got them...).
Driving home from work Tuesday night, I felt like it was Christmas Eve -- I'd go to bed and wake up to brightly-wrapped, red and blue results, brought to us all by voters, hard-working volunteers and news-broadcasters.
That morning, the community recreation center across from my house was transformed into a polling place, and the parking lot was full when I got up at 7:00 a.m. Walking around near my church later in the morning, inviting local business owners and employees to join us for a week of prayer for the city, was delightful. First, the receptionist next door to our rented space expressed gratitude for the invitation and concern for the election. "Are you all open for prayer today? I feel a real need for prayer this morning." The waiting taxi drivers down the block watched the news as Obama cast his vote, and asked who we'd voted for. Jovial and friendly, they took information about the times of open prayer. I hope to see some of them next week.
I want to feel joy with them, and concern for our country and world with Donna, too.
Is this similar to Paul's saying in 1 Corinthians 9, "Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" ?
To empathize, to feel with others?
Talking politics with my Ghanain co-worker this season has been fun. Even though he won't become a citizen until next year and, therefore, couldn't vote, he's been one of the most enthusiastic followers of the campaigning. Every day I saw him at work he asked me if I'd heard the latest news, or if I'd watched the debate, or if I'd finally made up my mind. Once he even offered to make me some cream puffs if I would just make my decision (but I never got them...).
Driving home from work Tuesday night, I felt like it was Christmas Eve -- I'd go to bed and wake up to brightly-wrapped, red and blue results, brought to us all by voters, hard-working volunteers and news-broadcasters.
That morning, the community recreation center across from my house was transformed into a polling place, and the parking lot was full when I got up at 7:00 a.m. Walking around near my church later in the morning, inviting local business owners and employees to join us for a week of prayer for the city, was delightful. First, the receptionist next door to our rented space expressed gratitude for the invitation and concern for the election. "Are you all open for prayer today? I feel a real need for prayer this morning." The waiting taxi drivers down the block watched the news as Obama cast his vote, and asked who we'd voted for. Jovial and friendly, they took information about the times of open prayer. I hope to see some of them next week.
I want to feel joy with them, and concern for our country and world with Donna, too.
Is this similar to Paul's saying in 1 Corinthians 9, "Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" ?
To empathize, to feel with others?
Friday, October 24, 2008
bookends
My posts this month are like bookends to October... almost.
It has gotten chilly. I am wearing a scarf. I sit on the floor next to the furnace grate to eat my breakfast and read in the mornings.
While doing so this week, I noticed several books on E's shelf that I may be interested in reading. I think I'll spend these next 7 or 8 weeks reading and reading and reading my brains out, not necessarily trying to absorb or retain it all, but just to be bathed in others' words and thoughts.
That's right, folks, seven or eight short weeks are all that remain of Emily in Greensboro. In addition to reading until my face falls off, I hope to spend as much time as possible with all of YOU who live here. I love you, you know? And I'm going to miss you, more than I'll miss the Green Bean, and Jack's Corner, and Cheesecakes by Alex, and Foust Park, and all of Tate St., Simple Kneads, and my various homes over the past five years.
It has gotten chilly. I am wearing a scarf. I sit on the floor next to the furnace grate to eat my breakfast and read in the mornings.
While doing so this week, I noticed several books on E's shelf that I may be interested in reading. I think I'll spend these next 7 or 8 weeks reading and reading and reading my brains out, not necessarily trying to absorb or retain it all, but just to be bathed in others' words and thoughts.
That's right, folks, seven or eight short weeks are all that remain of Emily in Greensboro. In addition to reading until my face falls off, I hope to spend as much time as possible with all of YOU who live here. I love you, you know? And I'm going to miss you, more than I'll miss the Green Bean, and Jack's Corner, and Cheesecakes by Alex, and Foust Park, and all of Tate St., Simple Kneads, and my various homes over the past five years.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Focus, Emily! Focus!
Yes, that's right. As of yesterday "focus" is a new prayer priority for me.
I was reading my friend Rehanna's blog about vision -- how even when we have the "what" of our life vision (i.e. what it is we are passionate about and feel drawn or 'called' to do), it may take a lot more time to get the where, when, and how of that vision.
After catching up on that and others of her posts, I realized that I feel like I don't even solidly have the "what"! I easily get empassioned about issues and ideas and taking actions -- and I like that about myself, that I am able to be passionate. But it's all over the place and I want to narrow it down so I can be effective in where I'm pouring my energy and my passion. (I'm wary of my use of the term or concept of "effectiveness" but I'll leave that alone for now because I don't know if it's misplaced or not.)
It's tempting for me to want to know permanent focus -- what I'll do with "the rest of my life" -- but I doubt I will get that information, and I'm not yet sure I actually want it.
I thought to myself, "This scattered-energies business will end once I leave Greensboro! Then I'll be in Bogota and it will be obvious what my focus is!" ... but then on Monday I realized that no matter where I go I will have opportunities to get spread out too thin. I could easily see or feel that D. Higuita wants me to get on board with his ministry and peacemaking in Colombia, but I'm just interested in talking with Colombians, finding potential churches for me to be a part of, knowing more about the country's history and present situation!
So, I'll continue praying for 1.) Focus in Vision and, back to that recurring request 2.) being able to know my boundaries and say "no"
I was reading my friend Rehanna's blog about vision -- how even when we have the "what" of our life vision (i.e. what it is we are passionate about and feel drawn or 'called' to do), it may take a lot more time to get the where, when, and how of that vision.
After catching up on that and others of her posts, I realized that I feel like I don't even solidly have the "what"! I easily get empassioned about issues and ideas and taking actions -- and I like that about myself, that I am able to be passionate. But it's all over the place and I want to narrow it down so I can be effective in where I'm pouring my energy and my passion. (I'm wary of my use of the term or concept of "effectiveness" but I'll leave that alone for now because I don't know if it's misplaced or not.)
It's tempting for me to want to know permanent focus -- what I'll do with "the rest of my life" -- but I doubt I will get that information, and I'm not yet sure I actually want it.
I thought to myself, "This scattered-energies business will end once I leave Greensboro! Then I'll be in Bogota and it will be obvious what my focus is!" ... but then on Monday I realized that no matter where I go I will have opportunities to get spread out too thin. I could easily see or feel that D. Higuita wants me to get on board with his ministry and peacemaking in Colombia, but I'm just interested in talking with Colombians, finding potential churches for me to be a part of, knowing more about the country's history and present situation!
So, I'll continue praying for 1.) Focus in Vision and, back to that recurring request 2.) being able to know my boundaries and say "no"
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
politickin' (and pot lickin')
Last Friday Carol came over (yay! she's back from Europe... again! and away from creeeeeepy Italian men!) and we cooked dinner and watched the presidential debate.
Since there is more than enough internet information and commentary on that matter, I'll spare you all but to say that I was pleased to find that I really respect both candidates. I feel that this frees me up to really vote on issues and not on personalities. Also, I think I'm discovering that I really am financially and socially more on the left of the political spectrum, with the exception of the traditionally right-sided pro-life belief.
I'm excited for the vice prez debate on Thursday, as it is possible that either Palin or Biden could become our nation's leader at some point in the next four years, and I want to know more about them.
Last night I went to hear a great speaker at Guilford College. He's a Colombian presbyterian pastor and he came to talk about the peace process in Colombia, giving historical background and currently what he's invovled in, as well as encouraging us to be global citizens and remember that the world's problems are our problems.
But I find myself frustrated with governments. With the concept of government. With the human tendency to place our hope in powerful people, elected officials, and legislation, instead of hanging that weight on the only one who is really in power. Psalm 146 says it perfectly:
Don't put your confidence in powerful people; there is no help for you there. When their breathing stops, they return to the earth, and in a moment all their plans come to an end.
But happy are those who have the God of Israel as their helper, whose hope is in the Lord their God. He is the one who made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them. He is the one who keeps every promise forever, who gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry. The Lord frees the prisoners. The Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts the burdens of those bent beneath their loads. The Lord loves the righteous. The Lord protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows, but he frustrates the plans of the wicked. The Lord will reign forever. O Jerusalem, your God is King in every generation! Praise the Lord!
Since there is more than enough internet information and commentary on that matter, I'll spare you all but to say that I was pleased to find that I really respect both candidates. I feel that this frees me up to really vote on issues and not on personalities. Also, I think I'm discovering that I really am financially and socially more on the left of the political spectrum, with the exception of the traditionally right-sided pro-life belief.
I'm excited for the vice prez debate on Thursday, as it is possible that either Palin or Biden could become our nation's leader at some point in the next four years, and I want to know more about them.
Last night I went to hear a great speaker at Guilford College. He's a Colombian presbyterian pastor and he came to talk about the peace process in Colombia, giving historical background and currently what he's invovled in, as well as encouraging us to be global citizens and remember that the world's problems are our problems.
But I find myself frustrated with governments. With the concept of government. With the human tendency to place our hope in powerful people, elected officials, and legislation, instead of hanging that weight on the only one who is really in power. Psalm 146 says it perfectly:
Don't put your confidence in powerful people; there is no help for you there. When their breathing stops, they return to the earth, and in a moment all their plans come to an end.
But happy are those who have the God of Israel as their helper, whose hope is in the Lord their God. He is the one who made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them. He is the one who keeps every promise forever, who gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry. The Lord frees the prisoners. The Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts the burdens of those bent beneath their loads. The Lord loves the righteous. The Lord protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows, but he frustrates the plans of the wicked. The Lord will reign forever. O Jerusalem, your God is King in every generation! Praise the Lord!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
the roaring twenties
Sometimes I feel like roaring. Being a twenty-something can be more difficult than I imagined.
It seems that the whole point of this period in life is to find out and solidify who I am. i.e., to Grow Up.
Not only do I have to try different views on for size, to see how they fit, I have to test out the beliefs I hold in the varied company of friends, coworkers, family members, acquaintances, strangers... and learn to be the same in whichever social setting I find myself.
It may be a delusion that this time of tension and trial will end once I cross the thirty line.
Also, the fact that I take for granted the twenties as the time for self-definition is probably largely due to my location in history and geography. Lots of people are theorizing that we post-modern Westerners have succeeded in streching out our adolescence further than anyone in the past. We also no longer have any established rites of passage into adulthood to help us know who we are and how we fit in...
Which leaves me thinking and talking about it a lot, and writing a blog about it. The ontology -- the metaphysical study of being -- of Emily -- me, myself, and I.
It seems that the whole point of this period in life is to find out and solidify who I am. i.e., to Grow Up.
Not only do I have to try different views on for size, to see how they fit, I have to test out the beliefs I hold in the varied company of friends, coworkers, family members, acquaintances, strangers... and learn to be the same in whichever social setting I find myself.
It may be a delusion that this time of tension and trial will end once I cross the thirty line.
Also, the fact that I take for granted the twenties as the time for self-definition is probably largely due to my location in history and geography. Lots of people are theorizing that we post-modern Westerners have succeeded in streching out our adolescence further than anyone in the past. We also no longer have any established rites of passage into adulthood to help us know who we are and how we fit in...
Which leaves me thinking and talking about it a lot, and writing a blog about it. The ontology -- the metaphysical study of being -- of Emily -- me, myself, and I.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Be careful what you wish for...
Or in this case, be careful what you pray for. I asked for opportunities to help me learn to deal with conflict and confrontation, and it's already beginning.
Or maybe it's just my attitude that's changing. Instead of fleeing the situations, or squirming uncomfortably and hoping they'll go away if I stay passive long enough, I'm finding that I want to have a voice, I want to be honest, to learn to be myself instead of a doormat.
Still, ugh! I knew this would happen when I said that prayer. I can at least be thankful that I'm starting off with calm confrontation and not explosive conflict. I have that to look forward to!
Or maybe it's just my attitude that's changing. Instead of fleeing the situations, or squirming uncomfortably and hoping they'll go away if I stay passive long enough, I'm finding that I want to have a voice, I want to be honest, to learn to be myself instead of a doormat.
Still, ugh! I knew this would happen when I said that prayer. I can at least be thankful that I'm starting off with calm confrontation and not explosive conflict. I have that to look forward to!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
time machine
I am sitting in my time machine right now. Soon I'll go home, back to the 1970s. But this afternoon I'm in this magical place where I buy a beverage and a pastry and they let me sit for a couple of hours and use their technology!
Adjusting to "Life Without the Internet" has been much harder than I expected! I stand firm in my decision to not have internet access at home, though. Well, if a neighbor happened to have an unsecured network, I would totally use it but basically, I don't want to pay for it!
Really I didn't think that my everyday life was that dependent on this network connection -- what IS the internet anyways? it isn't Anywhere, but it's Everywhere, and it has all this information about me and my electronic interactions stored Somewhere -- until I didn't have it. Now I find myself making notes about people I need to email, saving drafts to my desktop for later dispersion, struggling to maintain efficient contact with colleagues and friends, and literally making "internet chores" part of my weekly must-do's.
sheesh.
Adjusting to "Life Without the Internet" has been much harder than I expected! I stand firm in my decision to not have internet access at home, though. Well, if a neighbor happened to have an unsecured network, I would totally use it but basically, I don't want to pay for it!
Really I didn't think that my everyday life was that dependent on this network connection -- what IS the internet anyways? it isn't Anywhere, but it's Everywhere, and it has all this information about me and my electronic interactions stored Somewhere -- until I didn't have it. Now I find myself making notes about people I need to email, saving drafts to my desktop for later dispersion, struggling to maintain efficient contact with colleagues and friends, and literally making "internet chores" part of my weekly must-do's.
sheesh.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
It's all upside-down.
It’s been waaay too long since I’ve updated! I had a two-week vacation from work, during which time I moved, took part in the wedding of one of my very best friends, and tried to catch up on support raising tasks. Which, by the by, is going really well! I have about 40% of my $9,500 raised so far, and each time another check comes in I am amazed by God’s provision. I feel so blessed, and not in the cheesy way, but really honestly because there’s nothing I’ve done to deserve this generosity.
And the success of my fundraising so far is a huge encouragement that this plan is not of my own invention, but rather that it is God-inspired and guided. That doesn’t dispel all my insecurities though.
Over the past couple of days I’ve been revisited by thoughts that I’m crazy to be doing this. Why on earth would I presume to go to Colombia to try to bring about lasting change in the lives of neglected and abandoned kids?! What qualifies me to do that? How could I, who had a nearly storybook dream of a childhood and adolescence, possibly be of any use to those children who have experienced so much hurt and hate?! Why do I think God is calling me to this? Is this a joke? Have I misinterpreted my feelings and motivations? Will I get down there only to realize I’ve made a huge mistake, I can’t do it after all, and now I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life?
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
That’s the verse I’m hanging on to, and the growing understanding that God’s ways and wisdom seem foolishness to human thinking (1 Corinthians 1:19-25). That the ultimate picture of power is a slain lamb (Revelation 5). …that it’s all upside-down.
Over breakfast with some friends this morning I expressed these thoughts and L. said I have a great capacity to love. Which I believe is true. And when those thoughts come creeping up, I just have to trust that somehow my whole and happy childhood has preserved my heart to be able to soak up the broken ones’ pain and to dish out love in return. That, even though I can’t relate to abuses and abandonment in the very visceral sense that others can, I offer up my weaknesses and my strengths together and trust that my willingness to go and be is all that is required.
And the success of my fundraising so far is a huge encouragement that this plan is not of my own invention, but rather that it is God-inspired and guided. That doesn’t dispel all my insecurities though.
Over the past couple of days I’ve been revisited by thoughts that I’m crazy to be doing this. Why on earth would I presume to go to Colombia to try to bring about lasting change in the lives of neglected and abandoned kids?! What qualifies me to do that? How could I, who had a nearly storybook dream of a childhood and adolescence, possibly be of any use to those children who have experienced so much hurt and hate?! Why do I think God is calling me to this? Is this a joke? Have I misinterpreted my feelings and motivations? Will I get down there only to realize I’ve made a huge mistake, I can’t do it after all, and now I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life?
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
That’s the verse I’m hanging on to, and the growing understanding that God’s ways and wisdom seem foolishness to human thinking (1 Corinthians 1:19-25). That the ultimate picture of power is a slain lamb (Revelation 5). …that it’s all upside-down.
Over breakfast with some friends this morning I expressed these thoughts and L. said I have a great capacity to love. Which I believe is true. And when those thoughts come creeping up, I just have to trust that somehow my whole and happy childhood has preserved my heart to be able to soak up the broken ones’ pain and to dish out love in return. That, even though I can’t relate to abuses and abandonment in the very visceral sense that others can, I offer up my weaknesses and my strengths together and trust that my willingness to go and be is all that is required.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Taking Back Networking
Earlier this summer, in a phone conversation with a good friend who lives in Miami, we discussed our various pursuits of connecting different organizations and people with common interests. In her year-long stint with Americorps, she got a lot of opportunities to line up city projects and to find volunteers to help out. She also became more involved with her church, and combined the two groups to do things like tree plantings and all sorts of community service.
I shared her excitement as I talked about my recent foray into the neighborhood around my church in Greensboro, praying to join whatever work is going on there and to be good neighbors and to have some kind of impact in the area. On the first walk, I wrote down the phone number on the side of a ministry van parked at a home, but it took a while for me to be ready to call.
Just after my conversation with J in Miami, I talked with another friend who is also interested in working with Americorps, and looking into an assignment that would push her to develop skills to talk with strangers and ask them to create jobs, or at least leave some jobs open, for her clients in Nashville housing projects. We realized that what she would be doing is Networking, and that it's a task that we actually enjoy, although we detest the term. To me it implies grasping, greedy, grimy, self-serving, suited, smiling yuppie-young professionals who are out to squirm and squeeze their way into the market and then strategically build relationships that help them climb that corporate ladder and avoid the nasty spills of sliding down the chutes and winding up at the bottom again. But I have hope that we can take it back! Networking doesn't have to be about me; I want to be a "kingdom networker", connecting people and groups with complementary talents, resources, and passions to do God's work of restoration on earth.
I finally got up the nerve to call the number, and had an encouraging talk with a woman of God who lives just around the block from the office building where my church meets. Later, some friends and I went to meet her. We sat on the porch and listened to her stories for about an hour. I feel that she is an answer to prayers for connection with the community, and opportunities to get to know people and join in what the Holy Spirit is already doing there. She and her husband are pastors, and they have consistently provided help to needy people in the community who came asking for help over the past seventeen years. Their church occasionally provides meals for local homeless people; they have taken families in their home who needed a place to stay; they have cared for and even adopted children whose parents could not care for them. In short, Mr. and Mrs. S have climbed up on the altar as living sacrifices to be used in the Lord's work.
Currently, their church is interested in renting a large house to provide a place for girls to get off the streets, and bring their babies and small children with them. As she shared her heart to see these young women know true life, I felt myself inspired and grateful for indigenous workers who our church-goers can work alongside. We hope to do so. At least, the four of us who are involved in this so far.
Now we've got to figure out how to network within our own group to find people who are interested in getting involved and willing to submit to new leaders and leadership styles.
I shared her excitement as I talked about my recent foray into the neighborhood around my church in Greensboro, praying to join whatever work is going on there and to be good neighbors and to have some kind of impact in the area. On the first walk, I wrote down the phone number on the side of a ministry van parked at a home, but it took a while for me to be ready to call.
Just after my conversation with J in Miami, I talked with another friend who is also interested in working with Americorps, and looking into an assignment that would push her to develop skills to talk with strangers and ask them to create jobs, or at least leave some jobs open, for her clients in Nashville housing projects. We realized that what she would be doing is Networking, and that it's a task that we actually enjoy, although we detest the term. To me it implies grasping, greedy, grimy, self-serving, suited, smiling yuppie-young professionals who are out to squirm and squeeze their way into the market and then strategically build relationships that help them climb that corporate ladder and avoid the nasty spills of sliding down the chutes and winding up at the bottom again. But I have hope that we can take it back! Networking doesn't have to be about me; I want to be a "kingdom networker", connecting people and groups with complementary talents, resources, and passions to do God's work of restoration on earth.
I finally got up the nerve to call the number, and had an encouraging talk with a woman of God who lives just around the block from the office building where my church meets. Later, some friends and I went to meet her. We sat on the porch and listened to her stories for about an hour. I feel that she is an answer to prayers for connection with the community, and opportunities to get to know people and join in what the Holy Spirit is already doing there. She and her husband are pastors, and they have consistently provided help to needy people in the community who came asking for help over the past seventeen years. Their church occasionally provides meals for local homeless people; they have taken families in their home who needed a place to stay; they have cared for and even adopted children whose parents could not care for them. In short, Mr. and Mrs. S have climbed up on the altar as living sacrifices to be used in the Lord's work.
Currently, their church is interested in renting a large house to provide a place for girls to get off the streets, and bring their babies and small children with them. As she shared her heart to see these young women know true life, I felt myself inspired and grateful for indigenous workers who our church-goers can work alongside. We hope to do so. At least, the four of us who are involved in this so far.
Now we've got to figure out how to network within our own group to find people who are interested in getting involved and willing to submit to new leaders and leadership styles.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
purge
what am i going to do with all this STUFF?
I need to be packing for my move. Moving has been a yearly (or sometimes twice-yearly) event for the past five. I should be better at this, better at motivating myself, better at getting down to the task, better at ruthlessly throwing out or giving away, better at avoiding accumulation!
I am planning a yardsale. Let me know if you would like to make it a joint effort!
Saint Basil's words are rolling around in my head like it's a pinball machine, though: "The clothes that you store in boxes, belong to the naked. The shoes rotting by you, belong to the bare-foot."
I want to get rid of as much as possible before leaving The Green House. I'm tired of packing and unpacking the same stuff every year that I don't use or enjoy. And when I go to Colombia, I want to only keep the minimum of things that I want for my return (whenever, and to wherever, that may be). It is a problem that I like kitchenware, and furniture, and books.
But maybe I can loan these items out to friends in need? And maybe I can, with naked honesty, challenge myself to give away clothes that I never wear and that I won't be taking with me to Bogotá. Refugee resettlement organizations in this area always need donations to help new families set up house, and that feels in line with St. Basil's admonition.
I need to be packing for my move. Moving has been a yearly (or sometimes twice-yearly) event for the past five. I should be better at this, better at motivating myself, better at getting down to the task, better at ruthlessly throwing out or giving away, better at avoiding accumulation!
I am planning a yardsale. Let me know if you would like to make it a joint effort!
Saint Basil's words are rolling around in my head like it's a pinball machine, though: "The clothes that you store in boxes, belong to the naked. The shoes rotting by you, belong to the bare-foot."
I want to get rid of as much as possible before leaving The Green House. I'm tired of packing and unpacking the same stuff every year that I don't use or enjoy. And when I go to Colombia, I want to only keep the minimum of things that I want for my return (whenever, and to wherever, that may be). It is a problem that I like kitchenware, and furniture, and books.
But maybe I can loan these items out to friends in need? And maybe I can, with naked honesty, challenge myself to give away clothes that I never wear and that I won't be taking with me to Bogotá. Refugee resettlement organizations in this area always need donations to help new families set up house, and that feels in line with St. Basil's admonition.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Rumblestorm
I stand staring through the blinds at a train passing by, to count the cars and see what type they are. First, three engine cars with the tiny engineer in the lead. This will be a heavy load, and it is: all gravel, or coal. Car after car of it, each piled in the same way, to the same fullness, weighting down the engineer heading north. No, west. Why was north my first instinct? But there is a romanticism to the West, toward mystery and the unknown. I remember counting 64, then I keep counting in my head as I my periphery vision takes in the violence of the wind on the branches of trees and bushes in the side yard. A flash of lighting and I count on my fingers the seconds between the sight and the sound. Six. Suddenly I am at 91 in my train-car count. Is that possible? I think not, but I cannot stop. The last car comes in at 104, but I estimate 84 in reality, wondering how my mind skipped ahead a possible twenty digits.
The thoughts in my head are in a strange voice; it must be because I read poetry and then fell asleep, waking up half an hour later to a sound like my mother's old electrolux vaccuum dragging down the hall, banging into baseboards. I return to lucidity, but the sound persists.
Out on the stoop, it is the clouds, banging into each other as they steadily slide eastward, toward the coal-train I do not yet know is on its way to pass my house for me to count it and wonder at.
The thoughts in my head are in a strange voice; it must be because I read poetry and then fell asleep, waking up half an hour later to a sound like my mother's old electrolux vaccuum dragging down the hall, banging into baseboards. I return to lucidity, but the sound persists.
Out on the stoop, it is the clouds, banging into each other as they steadily slide eastward, toward the coal-train I do not yet know is on its way to pass my house for me to count it and wonder at.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Seven In One Blow
Do you remember that story about the little man who killed seven flies in one blow? Well, I may beat him yet! Our apartment has been overrun with houseflies. Twenty to thirty of them. Just since yesterday.
I have personally killed four so far. Fly paper and a naturally short lifespan are currently taking care of the rest. Oh, and one escaped through the door today. Good for it.
I have personally killed four so far. Fly paper and a naturally short lifespan are currently taking care of the rest. Oh, and one escaped through the door today. Good for it.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
just a summery note
The weather has been beautiful since I got back to Greensboro. Breezy, with afternoon and night thunderstorms, sunshine and clouds... close to perfect! I miss the West Virginia weather and lack of humidity, but this is a great week, weather-wise at least, for me to be on vacation from work.
Yesterday I ate junk food and then read on the steps for hours. Last night I stayed up way too late with friends, playing cards and then going to jazz night at a local college house to enjoy the live stylings of local musicians. Today I went for another prayer walk near church with some friends, and now I'm sitting on the stairs again listening to the guys on the porch downstairs with their guitars, hand drum, and didgeridoo. (alternate spelling: didjeridu. Thank you, Wikipedia.)
The Greensboro Days may be coming to an end, and this may be my last summer in North Carolina for a while, but I'm really enjoying it in this moment. I don't want to yearn for these days while they're still occurring. To, in the midst of having a great time, wish that these good time didn't have to end.
*News Flash* We interrupt this programming to inform you that Emily has just filled the house with smoke, due to negligence, oftentimes called "forgetfulness".
In brief, I put my lentils on the stove, where they were to boil for 2 minutes, then sit and soak for an hour. I promptly forgot them and decided to go blog outside on the stairs, where, of course, I could neither hear nor smell the beans.
M and A, this was waaay worse than the time with the tortilla (but somehow the alarms didn't go off this time). Just another proof that I should not be allowed to multi-task.
So I've just spent the last 20 minutes trying to air out the place, steel-wool-scrub the charred lentils off the bottom of LJ's pot, and generally replace the smell of smoke by, ironically, lighting candles.
I think this post's life has come to an end. What will I eat for dinner now?
Yesterday I ate junk food and then read on the steps for hours. Last night I stayed up way too late with friends, playing cards and then going to jazz night at a local college house to enjoy the live stylings of local musicians. Today I went for another prayer walk near church with some friends, and now I'm sitting on the stairs again listening to the guys on the porch downstairs with their guitars, hand drum, and didgeridoo. (alternate spelling: didjeridu. Thank you, Wikipedia.)
The Greensboro Days may be coming to an end, and this may be my last summer in North Carolina for a while, but I'm really enjoying it in this moment. I don't want to yearn for these days while they're still occurring. To, in the midst of having a great time, wish that these good time didn't have to end.
*News Flash* We interrupt this programming to inform you that Emily has just filled the house with smoke, due to negligence, oftentimes called "forgetfulness".
In brief, I put my lentils on the stove, where they were to boil for 2 minutes, then sit and soak for an hour. I promptly forgot them and decided to go blog outside on the stairs, where, of course, I could neither hear nor smell the beans.
M and A, this was waaay worse than the time with the tortilla (but somehow the alarms didn't go off this time). Just another proof that I should not be allowed to multi-task.
So I've just spent the last 20 minutes trying to air out the place, steel-wool-scrub the charred lentils off the bottom of LJ's pot, and generally replace the smell of smoke by, ironically, lighting candles.
I think this post's life has come to an end. What will I eat for dinner now?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
There I raised my Ebenezer
I just got back from spending a week as a counselor for the Burrito Brothers Flying Youth Camp in West Virginia with my home church's youth group. It was kind of like a reunion since several of the people who were counselors and campers five or six years ago when I used to go were still involved. It was an amazing week, full of rest and beautiful mountains, laughter and yes, tears.
The last night of camp, instead of the normal campfire time we had every night (a fun time with games and skits) we made a pile of rocks.
After a brief chapel service all 200ish of us walked up the mountain road in silence and sat around the campfire circle. Earlier, we counselors had spread rocks all around on the dusty ground. Now, as we walked in we were handed a bookmark with scripture references and phrases about our identity in Christ.
One of the Burrito Brothers/directors told us the story of Jacob, and how God renamed him. But that it wasn't until the second time that God told him, "your name isn't Jacob anymore; it's Israel" that it seemed to really sink in. At that time he went back to "bethel" (the house of God -- a rock in the wilderness) where he had propped up a rock years before and made it into a monument to the Lord.
I had asked God to name me. I think it has been almost a year ago now that I started asking that, but recently I had put it out of my mind a bit, assuming that He had already named me and I was just missing the obvious. But reading through that list of identity statements, I gasped when I whispered "I am a saint" just loud enough for me to hear.
As the campers started sifting down to the ground to pick up rocks and write their God-spoken identities in marker and pile them together on the far side of the firepit, I kept reading. When the kids were done, counselors were invited down as well.
I immediately went, chose a hefty stone, added it to our Ebenezer, and returned to my seat.
Where I stayed for probably 45 minutes more, just staring at that pile of rocks, at Beth-El, the house of God. Who knew? There in Cowen, WV in the middle of an ashy campfire circle.
From "striving" I have been renamed "Saint: bought with a price, annointed and sealed."
I am freed from anything but just to love!
The last night of camp, instead of the normal campfire time we had every night (a fun time with games and skits) we made a pile of rocks.
After a brief chapel service all 200ish of us walked up the mountain road in silence and sat around the campfire circle. Earlier, we counselors had spread rocks all around on the dusty ground. Now, as we walked in we were handed a bookmark with scripture references and phrases about our identity in Christ.
One of the Burrito Brothers/directors told us the story of Jacob, and how God renamed him. But that it wasn't until the second time that God told him, "your name isn't Jacob anymore; it's Israel" that it seemed to really sink in. At that time he went back to "bethel" (the house of God -- a rock in the wilderness) where he had propped up a rock years before and made it into a monument to the Lord.
I had asked God to name me. I think it has been almost a year ago now that I started asking that, but recently I had put it out of my mind a bit, assuming that He had already named me and I was just missing the obvious. But reading through that list of identity statements, I gasped when I whispered "I am a saint" just loud enough for me to hear.
As the campers started sifting down to the ground to pick up rocks and write their God-spoken identities in marker and pile them together on the far side of the firepit, I kept reading. When the kids were done, counselors were invited down as well.
I immediately went, chose a hefty stone, added it to our Ebenezer, and returned to my seat.
Where I stayed for probably 45 minutes more, just staring at that pile of rocks, at Beth-El, the house of God. Who knew? There in Cowen, WV in the middle of an ashy campfire circle.
From "striving" I have been renamed "Saint: bought with a price, annointed and sealed."
I am freed from anything but just to love!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Over the past month or so I've been bombarded by this divine message:
"It is more important to be loving than to be right."
I first read it in Sojourners magazine in May. It's been all over the pages of books I'm reading and sermons I hear. Almost it has seemed to float down on waves of pollen that overtake every surface and eventually are ground in and become part of the wood grain.
I love being right. I love having the best way to do something and the most knowledge on a subject, or at least some little tidbit of information that others did not possess before our interaction.
I also love being loving, but not when it costs my plans, my way, my will.
So I wrote it on my mirror. Then I have to look at it several times a day.
Then I really began to hear it and read it more and more. I really began to think about it a lot, and what it could mean for me in different situations.
Then I was presented with a specific, "rubber hits the road" case. The worst of me comes out when you have to live with me. Stubborn and stiff I resisted change and didn't want to budge when living with new roommates. "It is more important to be loving than to be right."
I finally submitted to the message. At least in one area of seemingly impassable lifestyle differences. Kingdom victory!
We HAVE to rejoice in the little things like that. Which, in fact, reminds me of the other divine message being engrained in me these days: My efficiency is not God's efficiency.
He decided that the best way to change the course of history was to spend three and a half years mostly hanging out with a motley crew of 12 dudes.
Human efficiency looks like super-structured, mass-produced programs that reach thousands for maximum result from minimum expenditure of time, energy, and money.
I need to have that taken apart and replaced with God's relational, individualized plan. Every day.
"It is more important to be loving than to be right."
I first read it in Sojourners magazine in May. It's been all over the pages of books I'm reading and sermons I hear. Almost it has seemed to float down on waves of pollen that overtake every surface and eventually are ground in and become part of the wood grain.
I love being right. I love having the best way to do something and the most knowledge on a subject, or at least some little tidbit of information that others did not possess before our interaction.
I also love being loving, but not when it costs my plans, my way, my will.
So I wrote it on my mirror. Then I have to look at it several times a day.
Then I really began to hear it and read it more and more. I really began to think about it a lot, and what it could mean for me in different situations.
Then I was presented with a specific, "rubber hits the road" case. The worst of me comes out when you have to live with me. Stubborn and stiff I resisted change and didn't want to budge when living with new roommates. "It is more important to be loving than to be right."
I finally submitted to the message. At least in one area of seemingly impassable lifestyle differences. Kingdom victory!
We HAVE to rejoice in the little things like that. Which, in fact, reminds me of the other divine message being engrained in me these days: My efficiency is not God's efficiency.
He decided that the best way to change the course of history was to spend three and a half years mostly hanging out with a motley crew of 12 dudes.
Human efficiency looks like super-structured, mass-produced programs that reach thousands for maximum result from minimum expenditure of time, energy, and money.
I need to have that taken apart and replaced with God's relational, individualized plan. Every day.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
"listen to the tapes"
This is one of Doug Schaupp's suggestions in Being White. He's talking about the "tapes" that play in our minds all the time -- the little comments we think as we see other people. Usually the volume is turned waaaay down, so we hardly even notice them, if we hear these thoughts at all.
Turn it up.
Listen to what you're saying about people.
Ask yourself what those thoughts mean, and ask yourself why you have those thoughts.
...Especially about people from other races, cultures, or ethnicities.
Next step? "Embrace the conviction."
I've been listening to the tapes a lot more lately. It's shocking. It's horrifying. It's shameful.
Schaupp offers this encouragement, though: "the Spirit brings conviction when he is ready to bring tranformation."
Bring it on.
Turn it up.
Listen to what you're saying about people.
Ask yourself what those thoughts mean, and ask yourself why you have those thoughts.
...Especially about people from other races, cultures, or ethnicities.
Next step? "Embrace the conviction."
I've been listening to the tapes a lot more lately. It's shocking. It's horrifying. It's shameful.
Schaupp offers this encouragement, though: "the Spirit brings conviction when he is ready to bring tranformation."
Bring it on.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
life as a series of short films
That's how I like to think of it sometimes. Single scenes, really. Shorter than Coffee and Cigarettes much of the time. This morning was a good one.
[Notes: There is no dialogue, except maybe a couple of lines to myself... but it would have to be done right. I guess it would need a song, but I don't know what yet. Wardrobe needs to be "young person trying to look professional but not to the extreme."
Background: I'm tired and a little bit sick, and I had a lot to do today. I was running very late for various reasons, one of which being I was trying to fix a bike tire instead of getting myself ready for work. I failed to make the repair, so I hopped in the Honda and raced to the depot, praying that the bus hadn't left yet. When I got there, I parked and ran up a hill, deciding to try to intercept the bus at the point where it exits the terminal instead of running around through the entrance and probably missing it. The movie probably starts as I'm running there, slinging my backpack on and fishing out my two dollars as I go.]
There I stood, waiting as the buses filed out. I waved to my friendly Tuesday and Thursday morning chauffeur but he mouthed that he couldn't let me on at this point. I was ready to give up and resign myself to driving all the way to High Point, with gas at $4 a gallon, but then he gestured toward a bus stop a block away. Hope!
I started jogging toward that stop, my sore throat already burning within ten paces. I waited for my chance to cross the road, and then made a dash for it. Half-way across, however, I realized that something was awry. My bookbag was coming unzipped! In the middle of the lanes my tupperware tumbled to the ground, spilling cookies and crackers and a bag of cheese on the pavement. My notebook, folder, and "Initial Consonants Bingo" game followed shortly thereafter.
Explitives erupted and I quickly kneeled down for my books, tupperware, and cheese (kept safe in the bag!) as the bus went by me. (at this point, the camera angle is from inside the bus, as all those who arrived in time watch the saga of a twenty-something part-time ESOL instructor make a public spectacle of herself)
A real gentleman, he waited at the bus stop for a couple of seconds, but I waved my appreciation and that he should just go.
A few tears roll down my cheeks as I get my things together and the shot fades out.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my life! I decided if I view in this format I can take myself out of the embarrassment a bit and be able to face everyone who saw me when next Tuesday rolls around and I get there on time!
[Notes: There is no dialogue, except maybe a couple of lines to myself... but it would have to be done right. I guess it would need a song, but I don't know what yet. Wardrobe needs to be "young person trying to look professional but not to the extreme."
Background: I'm tired and a little bit sick, and I had a lot to do today. I was running very late for various reasons, one of which being I was trying to fix a bike tire instead of getting myself ready for work. I failed to make the repair, so I hopped in the Honda and raced to the depot, praying that the bus hadn't left yet. When I got there, I parked and ran up a hill, deciding to try to intercept the bus at the point where it exits the terminal instead of running around through the entrance and probably missing it. The movie probably starts as I'm running there, slinging my backpack on and fishing out my two dollars as I go.]
There I stood, waiting as the buses filed out. I waved to my friendly Tuesday and Thursday morning chauffeur but he mouthed that he couldn't let me on at this point. I was ready to give up and resign myself to driving all the way to High Point, with gas at $4 a gallon, but then he gestured toward a bus stop a block away. Hope!
I started jogging toward that stop, my sore throat already burning within ten paces. I waited for my chance to cross the road, and then made a dash for it. Half-way across, however, I realized that something was awry. My bookbag was coming unzipped! In the middle of the lanes my tupperware tumbled to the ground, spilling cookies and crackers and a bag of cheese on the pavement. My notebook, folder, and "Initial Consonants Bingo" game followed shortly thereafter.
Explitives erupted and I quickly kneeled down for my books, tupperware, and cheese (kept safe in the bag!) as the bus went by me. (at this point, the camera angle is from inside the bus, as all those who arrived in time watch the saga of a twenty-something part-time ESOL instructor make a public spectacle of herself)
A real gentleman, he waited at the bus stop for a couple of seconds, but I waved my appreciation and that he should just go.
A few tears roll down my cheeks as I get my things together and the shot fades out.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my life! I decided if I view in this format I can take myself out of the embarrassment a bit and be able to face everyone who saw me when next Tuesday rolls around and I get there on time!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
summer loner
I've been spending a lot of time alone lately.
Or at least, it feels that way. If I compare time with people to time by myself, I guess I'm still getting a fair amount of face-time with other human beings, but... Maybe it's because I'm no longer living with really good friends. Maybe it's because my schedule has changed a little bit. Maybe it's because I come home from work in the afternoon and make lunch alone and eat it alone and read or do whatever i'm going to do for my few hours of free time alone and then I go to work again and when I come home a lot of times I'm in the house alone again and I have to get up early the next day so I go to bed alone.
I have had some really good hang-out times this week, but the number of good conversations has taken a nose-dive since M and A moved out.
Vignette from the life of EmilyAlone this evening:
I am sitting on the porch, reading in the comfort of the 7:30 heavy-blanket-heat, half-watching to see if the kittens who live in the factory yard across the street are going to come through the fence to eat the food I put out for them.
A man rides slowly by on a red road bike. He has long dreds and is holding a styrofoam cup in his mouth as he goes. I raise my hand in a wave. He nods. I keep reading.
A moment later, I realize he has looped around and stopped by the sidewalk. I look up from my book as he says,
"Hey, White Woman, Let me ask you something. Are you afraid of black people?"
I pause, searching for the answer inside of me.
"Not as a general rule."
"...not in general..." he repeats to himself.
Looking back on it, I want him to know that I mean that I don't feel afraid of him right now. That this moment is a "general" moment. That I only feel cautious, as I do whenever anyone approaches me and I feel the pressure of a request coming on.
He keeps talking to me, but we're a little too far from each other to have a conversation, so we move a bit closer to each other, but are still at a distance of about 15 feet.
He asks me for five dollars.
I tell him I don't like to give money out like that; that I prefer to give through an organization. That I know times are tough lately. That I can't give him money but I could go into my apartment and bring him some food.
He seems angry. Or maybe it's just frustration and a genuine question, "I don't understand why people wanna give their money to an organization instead of helping a person out who has a need right then."
"Well, I don't give to just any organization; I make sure they're using the money responsibly... Like Greensboro Urban Ministry over there. They're doing good work."
I think he listens to my response. I'm trying to be transparent, genuine, human.
He doesn't say anything about the food offer.
We say goodbye and he bikes around the bend.
A few minutes later, one of the kittens slinks out to eat. I talk to it. That's the last of the little box of food I bought at the corner store. And the question that comes to me is,
Should I spend money on a big bag of cat food when there are people who need so much help in my community?
Or at least, it feels that way. If I compare time with people to time by myself, I guess I'm still getting a fair amount of face-time with other human beings, but... Maybe it's because I'm no longer living with really good friends. Maybe it's because my schedule has changed a little bit. Maybe it's because I come home from work in the afternoon and make lunch alone and eat it alone and read or do whatever i'm going to do for my few hours of free time alone and then I go to work again and when I come home a lot of times I'm in the house alone again and I have to get up early the next day so I go to bed alone.
I have had some really good hang-out times this week, but the number of good conversations has taken a nose-dive since M and A moved out.
Vignette from the life of EmilyAlone this evening:
I am sitting on the porch, reading in the comfort of the 7:30 heavy-blanket-heat, half-watching to see if the kittens who live in the factory yard across the street are going to come through the fence to eat the food I put out for them.
A man rides slowly by on a red road bike. He has long dreds and is holding a styrofoam cup in his mouth as he goes. I raise my hand in a wave. He nods. I keep reading.
A moment later, I realize he has looped around and stopped by the sidewalk. I look up from my book as he says,
"Hey, White Woman, Let me ask you something. Are you afraid of black people?"
I pause, searching for the answer inside of me.
"Not as a general rule."
"...not in general..." he repeats to himself.
Looking back on it, I want him to know that I mean that I don't feel afraid of him right now. That this moment is a "general" moment. That I only feel cautious, as I do whenever anyone approaches me and I feel the pressure of a request coming on.
He keeps talking to me, but we're a little too far from each other to have a conversation, so we move a bit closer to each other, but are still at a distance of about 15 feet.
He asks me for five dollars.
I tell him I don't like to give money out like that; that I prefer to give through an organization. That I know times are tough lately. That I can't give him money but I could go into my apartment and bring him some food.
He seems angry. Or maybe it's just frustration and a genuine question, "I don't understand why people wanna give their money to an organization instead of helping a person out who has a need right then."
"Well, I don't give to just any organization; I make sure they're using the money responsibly... Like Greensboro Urban Ministry over there. They're doing good work."
I think he listens to my response. I'm trying to be transparent, genuine, human.
He doesn't say anything about the food offer.
We say goodbye and he bikes around the bend.
A few minutes later, one of the kittens slinks out to eat. I talk to it. That's the last of the little box of food I bought at the corner store. And the question that comes to me is,
Should I spend money on a big bag of cat food when there are people who need so much help in my community?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
I ain't no angel...
...in the sense of Rob Bell's chapter (in Sex God) about being neither angels nor animals in our sexuality. I really get pissed off when men say or yell things while I'm walking or biking by, reducing me to an animal or less, an object, to be appraised. "I like them legs!"
This, on top of what seems to be a semester-ly occurence: the student who wants to date the teacher.
If I were a man, how many of my female students would try to flirt with me, "get to know me", or ask me out? None, is the most likely answer. Perhaps an occasional, slightly emotionally imbalanced woman, but that's it.
Is this based on instinctive gender differences? (in other words: Are men in general more likely to pursue a mate, without regard for the perceived barriers?) Or is it a lack of respect for women as equals and as professionals?
Whatever it is, it's brought me back to trying to reconcile the fact of my sexuality as a good thing and a God-designed blessing in light of the negative or unwanted attention it can bring.
I can start dressing like a puritan, or a fundamental muslim, in hopes of de-sexualizing myself, but that doesn't get to the root of my struggle.
I'm asking God (and anyone who's been through these kind of situations) for guidance through this. Do I somehow encourage these advances?
_________________________________________________________________
On a completely different note, I just heard from a friend who is still in Colombia that the shantytown area where most of the program's kids live is being shut down today. I wish I were there right now.
The government is supposed to have allotted each family a plot of land and a little house on the outskirts of the city. When I was there, just under a month ago, I was told that the houses had not been constructed and the g'ment was back-pedaling on their word of what they'd provide. These families, if they go, will not have any homes, nor employment to help them keep up and improve their homes. If they do not go, they will literally be on the streets. Many of the children may end up in institutions.
Come, Lord Jesus! I want an end to this misery! Until then, we have to figure out what to do next to help ease the world's pains and injustices, one step at a time.
This, on top of what seems to be a semester-ly occurence: the student who wants to date the teacher.
If I were a man, how many of my female students would try to flirt with me, "get to know me", or ask me out? None, is the most likely answer. Perhaps an occasional, slightly emotionally imbalanced woman, but that's it.
Is this based on instinctive gender differences? (in other words: Are men in general more likely to pursue a mate, without regard for the perceived barriers?) Or is it a lack of respect for women as equals and as professionals?
Whatever it is, it's brought me back to trying to reconcile the fact of my sexuality as a good thing and a God-designed blessing in light of the negative or unwanted attention it can bring.
I can start dressing like a puritan, or a fundamental muslim, in hopes of de-sexualizing myself, but that doesn't get to the root of my struggle.
I'm asking God (and anyone who's been through these kind of situations) for guidance through this. Do I somehow encourage these advances?
_________________________________________________________________
On a completely different note, I just heard from a friend who is still in Colombia that the shantytown area where most of the program's kids live is being shut down today. I wish I were there right now.
The government is supposed to have allotted each family a plot of land and a little house on the outskirts of the city. When I was there, just under a month ago, I was told that the houses had not been constructed and the g'ment was back-pedaling on their word of what they'd provide. These families, if they go, will not have any homes, nor employment to help them keep up and improve their homes. If they do not go, they will literally be on the streets. Many of the children may end up in institutions.
Come, Lord Jesus! I want an end to this misery! Until then, we have to figure out what to do next to help ease the world's pains and injustices, one step at a time.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Best Week Ever
Surrounded by languages I didn't understand, in a setting that's still very new to me, where I don't yet have friends, I stood a bit awkwardly and walked down the hall and back a couple of times, trying to seem like I had something to do or someone to go chat with. Listening to the rhythm of the Africans' speech, I couldn't help but smile. I felt full of joy this morning during this break at work, while the students visited with friends in different classes and I waited for the time to end so we could play alphabet bingo.
While I smiled and wished I could know what they were discussing in Kirundi, with a thankful heart I realized that I've had great joy in my work this week. That on Wednesday night as I drifted off to sleep I was actually excited to get up really early the next day and make the trek to High Point to go teach what is often my most difficult and least favorite class. That I get to spend my days with people who truly appreciate what I have to offer and whose lives I can actually impact. That I am immersed in new cultures and have students who not only want to improve their English, but who are also curious about their classmates' lives and traditions in their countries of origin.
On Wednesday afternoon I was greatly blessed to go spend about an hour at the house of a former student, a 24-year-old Egyptian wife and the mother of 8-month-old and adorable 'Hammed. She cooked me a feast. She blessed me greatly with genuine love and overwhelming hospitality. I want to be a blessing to her in whatever ways I am able.
Relationships. When I feel frustrated or tired of my job and working with people who show up late, or not at all, whose cell phones go off too much, or with whom I can't really communicate too well (or at all), I want to be able to return, to refocus on what matters. Love.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am as a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
Teaching English is good, it is valuable, it is necessary and desired and appreciated. But teaching English is not the end-all. It is a means to love, in relationships (even though they must be bounded by professionalism, which means they can't get too personal). And this week I count it as one of my biggest blessings to have work which is purposeful for my "clients", fulfilling for me personally, and that provides an outlet for me to learn more about incarnational love and radical approachability.
Also, it was my birthday today (yesterday, by this point), and it was wonderful. I worked, I cooked good food for myself, I read for an hour, and I spent a lot of quality time with friends! (As an added bonus, I went the whole day without using my car, but I did bum a ride from Leah, so my day wasn't 100% car-free.)
While I smiled and wished I could know what they were discussing in Kirundi, with a thankful heart I realized that I've had great joy in my work this week. That on Wednesday night as I drifted off to sleep I was actually excited to get up really early the next day and make the trek to High Point to go teach what is often my most difficult and least favorite class. That I get to spend my days with people who truly appreciate what I have to offer and whose lives I can actually impact. That I am immersed in new cultures and have students who not only want to improve their English, but who are also curious about their classmates' lives and traditions in their countries of origin.
On Wednesday afternoon I was greatly blessed to go spend about an hour at the house of a former student, a 24-year-old Egyptian wife and the mother of 8-month-old and adorable 'Hammed. She cooked me a feast. She blessed me greatly with genuine love and overwhelming hospitality. I want to be a blessing to her in whatever ways I am able.
Relationships. When I feel frustrated or tired of my job and working with people who show up late, or not at all, whose cell phones go off too much, or with whom I can't really communicate too well (or at all), I want to be able to return, to refocus on what matters. Love.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am as a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
Teaching English is good, it is valuable, it is necessary and desired and appreciated. But teaching English is not the end-all. It is a means to love, in relationships (even though they must be bounded by professionalism, which means they can't get too personal). And this week I count it as one of my biggest blessings to have work which is purposeful for my "clients", fulfilling for me personally, and that provides an outlet for me to learn more about incarnational love and radical approachability.
Also, it was my birthday today (yesterday, by this point), and it was wonderful. I worked, I cooked good food for myself, I read for an hour, and I spent a lot of quality time with friends! (As an added bonus, I went the whole day without using my car, but I did bum a ride from Leah, so my day wasn't 100% car-free.)
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I have flea bites.
Back to the "new humanity"...
Relationship is integral to ushering in the kingdom of heaven. One-on-one attention, face time, touch. And this both thrills and terrifies me.
I fear contamination. I don't want to get lice. I don't want to get dirty. I want to be cute and clean and comfortable. So God is calling me out of that, away from what I know and like and into the mess -- the mess of slums and brothels and stench and loveless families -- to meet with him.
I like the idea of it, but the reality is distasteful.
And why, for me, is it necessary to go so far and into such technicolor chaos in order to wrestle and learn? For some, having relationships with intellectuals, the Harvard professor-types, is their ministry. That's clean. That's comfortable, and you can even look cute (although after all-night conversations over countless cups of coffee you will eventually smell a bit, look a little rough, and need a shower and some sleep). (please know that I do not think any less of those called to this area. I'm merely lamenting the fact that I don't have a similarly lice-free, dirty diaper-free people group to work with.)
I feel drawn to kids who come up and ask me questions point-blank and who want some attention and who often want to play... and it goes so much deeper than that, in fact much deeper than I can imagine as of yet, but this is an entry-point. I don't feel on-guard with them. We make friends easily. And I love them easily, and I hurt for them and desire good for them. And the scruffy ones on the street in Latin America, the ones who have come up asking for money, the ones who are men and women in the bodies of children because they have seen, heard, felt too much pain and ugliness, the ones who squeeze themselves around me on the bench: for those, I dream restoration! I dream the freedom to play, to trust, to rest in the assurance of love and that a grown-up is going to take care of it! I dream for them what I was blessed enough to have: a childhood.
That they may grow up and offer the same gift to their children, and grandchildren. That through God's grace and my willing hands and heart (alongside many others) he can rebuild families that for generations have been broken, downtrodden, empty of hope. That a light will pierce through the darkness, a light which the darkness cannot comprehend (neither understand nor stamp out). And what is the mode of bringing this light? "The WORD became flesh and dwelt among us." (John 1:14)
Face-to-face. Here I go, both now in Greensboro and next year in Bogotá.
Relationship is integral to ushering in the kingdom of heaven. One-on-one attention, face time, touch. And this both thrills and terrifies me.
I fear contamination. I don't want to get lice. I don't want to get dirty. I want to be cute and clean and comfortable. So God is calling me out of that, away from what I know and like and into the mess -- the mess of slums and brothels and stench and loveless families -- to meet with him.
I like the idea of it, but the reality is distasteful.
And why, for me, is it necessary to go so far and into such technicolor chaos in order to wrestle and learn? For some, having relationships with intellectuals, the Harvard professor-types, is their ministry. That's clean. That's comfortable, and you can even look cute (although after all-night conversations over countless cups of coffee you will eventually smell a bit, look a little rough, and need a shower and some sleep). (please know that I do not think any less of those called to this area. I'm merely lamenting the fact that I don't have a similarly lice-free, dirty diaper-free people group to work with.)
I feel drawn to kids who come up and ask me questions point-blank and who want some attention and who often want to play... and it goes so much deeper than that, in fact much deeper than I can imagine as of yet, but this is an entry-point. I don't feel on-guard with them. We make friends easily. And I love them easily, and I hurt for them and desire good for them. And the scruffy ones on the street in Latin America, the ones who have come up asking for money, the ones who are men and women in the bodies of children because they have seen, heard, felt too much pain and ugliness, the ones who squeeze themselves around me on the bench: for those, I dream restoration! I dream the freedom to play, to trust, to rest in the assurance of love and that a grown-up is going to take care of it! I dream for them what I was blessed enough to have: a childhood.
That they may grow up and offer the same gift to their children, and grandchildren. That through God's grace and my willing hands and heart (alongside many others) he can rebuild families that for generations have been broken, downtrodden, empty of hope. That a light will pierce through the darkness, a light which the darkness cannot comprehend (neither understand nor stamp out). And what is the mode of bringing this light? "The WORD became flesh and dwelt among us." (John 1:14)
Face-to-face. Here I go, both now in Greensboro and next year in Bogotá.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
quick update
This post won't meet up to the "literary standard" I try to set for myself, but I feel the need to post something since I haven't in so long!
I got back to Greensboro today after 8 days in Bogotá, Colombia. I'll be moving there in February 2009, Lord willing (i.e. if my fund raising and visa acquisition go well between now and then). I stayed there to meet the staff and see some of the program sites of the organization, Formando Vidas. It was good and God faithfully provided for me to go, begin to make friends, and meet with Him.
I hope to update with more details and reflection soon. If you want to be on my email/prayer/support list, please let me know.
I got back to Greensboro today after 8 days in Bogotá, Colombia. I'll be moving there in February 2009, Lord willing (i.e. if my fund raising and visa acquisition go well between now and then). I stayed there to meet the staff and see some of the program sites of the organization, Formando Vidas. It was good and God faithfully provided for me to go, begin to make friends, and meet with Him.
I hope to update with more details and reflection soon. If you want to be on my email/prayer/support list, please let me know.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The cheerful giver
When Jacob high-tailed it from his parents' house, running from his murderous brother to his uncle's land, he spent a night outside on the ground, with a rock for his pillow. And there the LORD spoke to him, promising His faithfulness and blessings to Jacob and to all people through him.
The next morning, after making the pillow-rock a monument to the LORD, Jacob made a commitment of faithfulness, too. The difference? Jacob's was conditional. "IF you will protect me and bring me back here safely, like you promised, THEN you will be my God, and I will trust you and give you ten percent of everything you give me." (Genesis 28:20-22, paraphrased)
When I remember His faithfulness to me in the past and present and trust His promises for the future, I can set aside my conditions. Being grateful opens up a door to joy.
On Tuesday, I read this in Robert Lupton's book: "To be a cheerful giver, one must be a free giver -- free from coercion and manipulation, free from emotional hooks that corner and obligate." After an insanely busy week, I spent a wonderful hour in the park resting and praying today. And Jacob's promise to "tithe" on condition, out of obligation or repayment for God's protection and blessings stood out to me. The LORD did not pursue Jacob for any merit of his own, nor did He promise his blessings contingent on Jacob's response or responsibility. And God decided to bless the whole world through Jacob.
I trust God to provide for my financial needs for Colombia, which frees me up to give more right now rather than saving every extra penny!
The next morning, after making the pillow-rock a monument to the LORD, Jacob made a commitment of faithfulness, too. The difference? Jacob's was conditional. "IF you will protect me and bring me back here safely, like you promised, THEN you will be my God, and I will trust you and give you ten percent of everything you give me." (Genesis 28:20-22, paraphrased)
When I remember His faithfulness to me in the past and present and trust His promises for the future, I can set aside my conditions. Being grateful opens up a door to joy.
On Tuesday, I read this in Robert Lupton's book: "To be a cheerful giver, one must be a free giver -- free from coercion and manipulation, free from emotional hooks that corner and obligate." After an insanely busy week, I spent a wonderful hour in the park resting and praying today. And Jacob's promise to "tithe" on condition, out of obligation or repayment for God's protection and blessings stood out to me. The LORD did not pursue Jacob for any merit of his own, nor did He promise his blessings contingent on Jacob's response or responsibility. And God decided to bless the whole world through Jacob.
I trust God to provide for my financial needs for Colombia, which frees me up to give more right now rather than saving every extra penny!
Friday, April 18, 2008
the Glory
"Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. ... It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. ... it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -- the glory -- so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. ... It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men."
-John Steinbeck, East of Eden
one.
Have you experienced those moments of glory? Moments of substance? They are always the simplest things... once it was a crow about to land on the ground, and as I drove past I saw the summer sunlight on the jet feathers of his crooked wing.
That glory, that substance, that life-fullness comes when least expected, and it is a gift. Steinbeck relates it to our creativity, and points out that this glory, like creative acts, can only happen alone. Yet (his narrator says) our systems -- political, religious, ideological -- generally move us away from being individuals and toward being part of the herd, thereby smothering the glory, squelching humanity.
And those patterns can become ingrained, so that I choose busy-ness over rest, or I seek companionship to avoid solitude, although both are valuable and necessary.
two.
The moments of life can troop by, faceless. But the stars can also sing! And the earth chants, and the light blesses, and the skin tastes the air! Am I more fully human, more connected with myself, the physical and the spiritual halves more integrated, in those moments? Is that fleeting glory a foretaste of eternity?
And it is not of myself. I am filled up by a force outside of myself that interacts with me, and I suddenly gush! An outpouring of life, of love. I loved that crow, and the sunshine, and the way they met and entered my eye and my soul.
It is a pouring-out that does not take away from. Like the image of the burning bush that was not consumed. I want to be a burning bush more often.
three.
Can the overflow of the heart continue even past the moment of the glory? Those moments of substance are solitary affairs, but I want their effects to spill over to interactions. My self-integration is important, but so are my relationships.
This "lonely thing" that separates us, sets us apart from one another, is beautiful because being ourselves and seeing each other in truth and glory breaks the patterns, shatters the systems, and births the new humanity. Note that all of those verbs involve pain...
I have been filled and am ready to let it keep pouring out! To take my humanity -- the ability and calling to create -- and be used in turning the gray glorious.
"And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. ... and I will fight... to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost."
-John Steinbeck, East of Eden
one.
Have you experienced those moments of glory? Moments of substance? They are always the simplest things... once it was a crow about to land on the ground, and as I drove past I saw the summer sunlight on the jet feathers of his crooked wing.
That glory, that substance, that life-fullness comes when least expected, and it is a gift. Steinbeck relates it to our creativity, and points out that this glory, like creative acts, can only happen alone. Yet (his narrator says) our systems -- political, religious, ideological -- generally move us away from being individuals and toward being part of the herd, thereby smothering the glory, squelching humanity.
And those patterns can become ingrained, so that I choose busy-ness over rest, or I seek companionship to avoid solitude, although both are valuable and necessary.
two.
The moments of life can troop by, faceless. But the stars can also sing! And the earth chants, and the light blesses, and the skin tastes the air! Am I more fully human, more connected with myself, the physical and the spiritual halves more integrated, in those moments? Is that fleeting glory a foretaste of eternity?
And it is not of myself. I am filled up by a force outside of myself that interacts with me, and I suddenly gush! An outpouring of life, of love. I loved that crow, and the sunshine, and the way they met and entered my eye and my soul.
It is a pouring-out that does not take away from. Like the image of the burning bush that was not consumed. I want to be a burning bush more often.
three.
Can the overflow of the heart continue even past the moment of the glory? Those moments of substance are solitary affairs, but I want their effects to spill over to interactions. My self-integration is important, but so are my relationships.
This "lonely thing" that separates us, sets us apart from one another, is beautiful because being ourselves and seeing each other in truth and glory breaks the patterns, shatters the systems, and births the new humanity. Note that all of those verbs involve pain...
I have been filled and am ready to let it keep pouring out! To take my humanity -- the ability and calling to create -- and be used in turning the gray glorious.
"And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. ... and I will fight... to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost."
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Good news...
..but not what you might think. (aka, something about Colombia)
However, I want to take time to celebrate the little things, even while I await what seems to be "bigger" news. This summer semester at GTCC I'm getting more hours! That means that now I'll be working a steady 24.75 hours a week there (this semester I've had 22), which is just shy of the 25-hour-a-week limit for part-time employees!
Since starting to teach ESOL there last May, I have been blessed with more classes and given options of what classes I want to teach. I have been praised for my work and have formed friendships with students. I hope that the impact I've had will have a ripple effect and that my little drips and drops of help will aid in the coming of the kingdom of God.
August will be here before I know it, and that is the cut-off point of my vision and knowledge of where I'll be and what I'll be doing. Tonight I am free from worry-filled question marks at that sidewalk ending-point. Tonight I am at peace, and excited to see all that happens before then!
However, I want to take time to celebrate the little things, even while I await what seems to be "bigger" news. This summer semester at GTCC I'm getting more hours! That means that now I'll be working a steady 24.75 hours a week there (this semester I've had 22), which is just shy of the 25-hour-a-week limit for part-time employees!
Since starting to teach ESOL there last May, I have been blessed with more classes and given options of what classes I want to teach. I have been praised for my work and have formed friendships with students. I hope that the impact I've had will have a ripple effect and that my little drips and drops of help will aid in the coming of the kingdom of God.
August will be here before I know it, and that is the cut-off point of my vision and knowledge of where I'll be and what I'll be doing. Tonight I am free from worry-filled question marks at that sidewalk ending-point. Tonight I am at peace, and excited to see all that happens before then!
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Update: no news. This is life.
It is a rainy April Saturday, after a rainy April week, and I am home alone with very few plans for the day.
Solitude. Silence. Rest.
The day is full of possibilities! But isn't every day? I want to be more aware of that, and as often as I remember to, I ask God to show me how I can be a part of what he's already doing each day. To join in beside the work of others and to find common interests. To let myself be used (somehow) for the glory of the Lord.
"What's going on with Colombia?" you ask.
For now, I'm not sure. To say nothing would be an answer from my perspective. Poor communication could be another response. I'm waiting, again is probably all I really can say. I'm sure lots of things are happening there, but the 2, 197 miles between us easily block that from my view. Of course, I have a lot going on here, and happily so. I would like to know a few basic details about my Colombia move, but probably once I do it will be more difficult for me to stay focused on and plugged into my life in Greensboro, so maybe it's yet another blessing disguised as yet another exercise in patience and trust.
Solitude. Silence. Rest.
The day is full of possibilities! But isn't every day? I want to be more aware of that, and as often as I remember to, I ask God to show me how I can be a part of what he's already doing each day. To join in beside the work of others and to find common interests. To let myself be used (somehow) for the glory of the Lord.
"What's going on with Colombia?" you ask.
For now, I'm not sure. To say nothing would be an answer from my perspective. Poor communication could be another response. I'm waiting, again is probably all I really can say. I'm sure lots of things are happening there, but the 2, 197 miles between us easily block that from my view. Of course, I have a lot going on here, and happily so. I would like to know a few basic details about my Colombia move, but probably once I do it will be more difficult for me to stay focused on and plugged into my life in Greensboro, so maybe it's yet another blessing disguised as yet another exercise in patience and trust.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Dizzy, in a good way
God is coming at me from several directions lately, and I feel like I can't focus on any one thing. And I think that's good, although it's frustrating because I'm not able to think about several things at once.
Today I met with Marshall to talk about community outreach ideas in Greensboro and for my church, and he said that it's a really good thing that we have a lot of college students because (for one thing) young, single people with no children are often more willing or more able to take risks. It's so true. Feeling invincible has motivated me a lot of times, and on more than one occasion has gotten me into less-than-safe situations, but it's so wonderful to hear that God uses that!
When I think about the reality of Colombia, I realize there is some of that blind leaping going on. I will have communication problems, will make cultural errors, will feel lonely, discouraged, defeated, unable, and at some points unwilling, and yet... God is guiding me there and will meet me in that and continue to direct.
He is adding so many things to the pot and stirring it up. Some moments it feels dizzying. I'm exploring what it means to be human, and to live in that tension; what it means that I am caucasian, and American, and middle-class... and how those classifications affect me in relating to others; I'm trying to seek God's heart for the community I'm in now, and I'm also looking ahead to Colombia and realizing more and more and more that I really have no idea what I'm in for!
Why am I interested in community outreach here if I'm about to move to a different country? Why am I struggling through understanding the relationships between my physical self and my spiritual self right now (and why was that such a huge focus two weeks ago but now has subsided some)? Why am I interested in intentional communities and going to visit one in Durham this week if I'm not going to be doing that anytime soon? (Or am I? In Colombia? And what about after my lease is up here in Greensboro, but before I move to Bogota?) Where do I feel most drawn, and to what cultural communities?
In Being White, Doug Schaupp compares his experiences to baseball. Judging from his model, I'd say I'm at bat right now, and God is pitching a lot of ideas at me. Or maybe I'm on the way to first base, trying to figure out how to make it there. First base: Intentional displacement in response to the Gospel.
Normally, I would say that I'm trying to take on too much, but really I'm just reading a lot and putting out feelers to experiment and experience. It's really strange to not know where the "EmilyTrain" is heading, long term. To not have a general idea of what all of this will shape into. But it's exciting. Turn the heat up, Lord. And keep stirring, please.
Today I met with Marshall to talk about community outreach ideas in Greensboro and for my church, and he said that it's a really good thing that we have a lot of college students because (for one thing) young, single people with no children are often more willing or more able to take risks. It's so true. Feeling invincible has motivated me a lot of times, and on more than one occasion has gotten me into less-than-safe situations, but it's so wonderful to hear that God uses that!
When I think about the reality of Colombia, I realize there is some of that blind leaping going on. I will have communication problems, will make cultural errors, will feel lonely, discouraged, defeated, unable, and at some points unwilling, and yet... God is guiding me there and will meet me in that and continue to direct.
He is adding so many things to the pot and stirring it up. Some moments it feels dizzying. I'm exploring what it means to be human, and to live in that tension; what it means that I am caucasian, and American, and middle-class... and how those classifications affect me in relating to others; I'm trying to seek God's heart for the community I'm in now, and I'm also looking ahead to Colombia and realizing more and more and more that I really have no idea what I'm in for!
Why am I interested in community outreach here if I'm about to move to a different country? Why am I struggling through understanding the relationships between my physical self and my spiritual self right now (and why was that such a huge focus two weeks ago but now has subsided some)? Why am I interested in intentional communities and going to visit one in Durham this week if I'm not going to be doing that anytime soon? (Or am I? In Colombia? And what about after my lease is up here in Greensboro, but before I move to Bogota?) Where do I feel most drawn, and to what cultural communities?
In Being White, Doug Schaupp compares his experiences to baseball. Judging from his model, I'd say I'm at bat right now, and God is pitching a lot of ideas at me. Or maybe I'm on the way to first base, trying to figure out how to make it there. First base: Intentional displacement in response to the Gospel.
Normally, I would say that I'm trying to take on too much, but really I'm just reading a lot and putting out feelers to experiment and experience. It's really strange to not know where the "EmilyTrain" is heading, long term. To not have a general idea of what all of this will shape into. But it's exciting. Turn the heat up, Lord. And keep stirring, please.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
a push-pin on the map to call my own!
Yes, hallelujah, I have finally received word from Formando Vidas in Colombia that they do want me to come work with them! I don't have any details yet on when exactly, or how much money I need to raise, or even which branch(es) of their organization I will work with, but it's exciting to see something that's been brewing for a year begin to bear some fruit (mixed metaphors, I know).
Where does this put me with all these other ideas and thoughts that I began coming up with during my wait and worries that I would not be accepted? What about that last post you wrote, Emily?
I don't know.
I will be here for at least six more months though (probably more like 8-10), and I don't want to retreat yet! A few gears are slowly beginning to turn, and I'm excited to see what they'll turn into, while I'm here and after I leave.
...and then when I return again?
(Note: I have absolutely NO idea what my future will be like, in spite of my tireless efforts to decipher it.)
Glory to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us.
Where does this put me with all these other ideas and thoughts that I began coming up with during my wait and worries that I would not be accepted? What about that last post you wrote, Emily?
I don't know.
I will be here for at least six more months though (probably more like 8-10), and I don't want to retreat yet! A few gears are slowly beginning to turn, and I'm excited to see what they'll turn into, while I'm here and after I leave.
...and then when I return again?
(Note: I have absolutely NO idea what my future will be like, in spite of my tireless efforts to decipher it.)
Glory to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
when did that chrysalis open?
Not that I'm all butterfly, by any means, but a little caterpillar-y part of me has changed within the last year--definitely over the last 4 years--and I just realized it last night!
When I came to Greensboro, I was excited to be out on my own and out of my small town into "the city". Nevertheless, my recollection is that I maintained the belief that I would definitely return to a smaller town, or even the country, and that I was not interested in moving into a city in a more permanent way, especially when I got ready to buy a house and start popping out babies.
I remember thinking that the ministry of people who intentionally moved into inner-city, low-income, predominately-minority neighborhoods was interesting, but that it would never be for me, because I didn't feel led in that direction. Even in December 2006, only a little over a year ago, when I went to the Urbana missions conference, I didn't attend any of the urban ministry seminars they offerred because I didn't think I'd ever get into that niche.
But lately, I've been considering it. I'm not sure what the future holds, obviously, but my heart as been growing for reconciliation between races and socio-economic classes here in my divided city, and I find myself desiring to expand my ventures into the world on the other side of the tracks... into a neighborhood that is literally a five-minute walk from my house.
When I came to Greensboro, I was excited to be out on my own and out of my small town into "the city". Nevertheless, my recollection is that I maintained the belief that I would definitely return to a smaller town, or even the country, and that I was not interested in moving into a city in a more permanent way, especially when I got ready to buy a house and start popping out babies.
I remember thinking that the ministry of people who intentionally moved into inner-city, low-income, predominately-minority neighborhoods was interesting, but that it would never be for me, because I didn't feel led in that direction. Even in December 2006, only a little over a year ago, when I went to the Urbana missions conference, I didn't attend any of the urban ministry seminars they offerred because I didn't think I'd ever get into that niche.
But lately, I've been considering it. I'm not sure what the future holds, obviously, but my heart as been growing for reconciliation between races and socio-economic classes here in my divided city, and I find myself desiring to expand my ventures into the world on the other side of the tracks... into a neighborhood that is literally a five-minute walk from my house.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
O struggler, hope in the LORD, now and always
Jacob was blessed because he didn't stop wrestling with the divine being who appeared to him. He was given a new name: instead of Jacob, "he grasps the heel" (figuratively, "deceiver"), he became Israel, "he struggles with God". And he was given a blessing. The next day he went with humility and assurance of God's faithfulness to meet his brother, uncertain of the outcome. (Genesis 25 and 32-33)
This whole Jacob-and-Esau section of history has always been fascinating to me.
Will I hold on to God until dawn and receive His blessing? Will I continue to wrestle through the tough issues that come up, or just ignore them for being too difficult? Will I continue to 'work out my salvation with fear and trembling'? (Philippians 2:12)
Money-spending, -saving, and -investing. Political decisions and actions. Familial and non-familial relations. Relocation? Intentional displacement? Community involvment? How much? How? What? Where?
Personal harmony? Reconciling my physical and spiritual aspects, or at least claiming them both, without sacrificing either...
I can read and think and journal and talk about these struggles ad nauseum, but there's only so much I can do on my own. I guess I just have to hold on and wait until daybreak; to wait to be blessed with better understanding my roles and my callings, myself and my God.
This whole Jacob-and-Esau section of history has always been fascinating to me.
Will I hold on to God until dawn and receive His blessing? Will I continue to wrestle through the tough issues that come up, or just ignore them for being too difficult? Will I continue to 'work out my salvation with fear and trembling'? (Philippians 2:12)
Money-spending, -saving, and -investing. Political decisions and actions. Familial and non-familial relations. Relocation? Intentional displacement? Community involvment? How much? How? What? Where?
Personal harmony? Reconciling my physical and spiritual aspects, or at least claiming them both, without sacrificing either...
I can read and think and journal and talk about these struggles ad nauseum, but there's only so much I can do on my own. I guess I just have to hold on and wait until daybreak; to wait to be blessed with better understanding my roles and my callings, myself and my God.
Friday, February 29, 2008
sushi, diversity, and soul cravings
Today over miso soup and bento boxes, I listened to a friend who is also waiting to hear back about an application, also feeling the need for some kind of change in order to avoid stagnation, even though he doesn’t want to abandon the roots and growth he has here in Greensboro.
He wants to get a PhD in American Studies from Yale, and he shared with me parts of his application, the most striking of which is his “diversity statement”. One: my friend is brilliant. Two: he is a poet, so even his prose is powerful. Three: although the program for which he is applying is labeled American Studies, his ideas are all about finding that ‘new humanity’ I long for, and therefore are less American and more Humanity Studies. And we arrive back at ontology: the study of BEING: transcendent of nationality, ethnicity, culture, education, ability, and given names.
I’ve been thinking of stepping outside of my context lately, and I’m sticking my big toe out into that river, so see what happens.
Being white, I am perhaps lagging behind many of my fellow twenty-somethings (and even younger people) in the struggle of discovering where I fit in (or don’t) to the racial/cultural lines that have been drawn and into which we are all born. Nate’s studies and thoughts lead him away from racial labels. By his standards he is not ‘black’ or necessarily ‘African-American’, since those terms suggest a specific cultural identity and also ignore the multiple facets of his past. He points out that he has European and Native American blood along with the African lineage from which he inherited his skin and features. His “white” ancestors’ heritage and family histories did not cease to exist when they joined with people of darker skin. So why, then, did their children lose the right to claim the family trees on both sides? Why have science and society and history been allowed to declare who we are instead of letting us define ourselves? Why do we seek to divide ourselves when the human soul longs for utopia? We have more in common than not.
I’ve previously written that I think a sign of maturity is realizing that others are just as multi-dimensional as I. That when I walking up the sidewalk and pass a small work-crew, they are having a separate conversation that has nothing to do with me, and their thoughts about me begin and end with the Southern ritual “How’re ya doing?” and my impersonal response. That six billion plus people do not all exist to fulfill my needs. That people are not a drug for my ego or, going deeper, for my soul. And that when I try to use them as such, the soul hit* doesn’t last very long. The brief satisfaction it brings me to think that I am occupying some important mental and emotional space for a perfect stranger does not make me need the next person any less. Thus, I discover the insatiable appetite of my soul. Created to find identity outside of ourselves, we latch on to whatever makes us feel better. We can turn to temporary solutions, or abandon them for a true infinite**.
One difficulty is that we must abandon them again and again, when we awake, before we doze off, while cooking dinner, at work or on the commute. And sometimes we have to say goodbye to a good thing in order to keep it from going stale. Or maybe we have to fast from something that we enjoy in order to "leave room for longing," as Nate said it -- to remind our bodies that the soul needs more nourishment than physical food, entertainment, or relations.
*term used by my pastor on Sunday; not sure if he coined it or not
**after C.S. Lewis (constantly quoted by my pastor)… “the sweet poison of the false infinites”
He wants to get a PhD in American Studies from Yale, and he shared with me parts of his application, the most striking of which is his “diversity statement”. One: my friend is brilliant. Two: he is a poet, so even his prose is powerful. Three: although the program for which he is applying is labeled American Studies, his ideas are all about finding that ‘new humanity’ I long for, and therefore are less American and more Humanity Studies. And we arrive back at ontology: the study of BEING: transcendent of nationality, ethnicity, culture, education, ability, and given names.
I’ve been thinking of stepping outside of my context lately, and I’m sticking my big toe out into that river, so see what happens.
Being white, I am perhaps lagging behind many of my fellow twenty-somethings (and even younger people) in the struggle of discovering where I fit in (or don’t) to the racial/cultural lines that have been drawn and into which we are all born. Nate’s studies and thoughts lead him away from racial labels. By his standards he is not ‘black’ or necessarily ‘African-American’, since those terms suggest a specific cultural identity and also ignore the multiple facets of his past. He points out that he has European and Native American blood along with the African lineage from which he inherited his skin and features. His “white” ancestors’ heritage and family histories did not cease to exist when they joined with people of darker skin. So why, then, did their children lose the right to claim the family trees on both sides? Why have science and society and history been allowed to declare who we are instead of letting us define ourselves? Why do we seek to divide ourselves when the human soul longs for utopia? We have more in common than not.
I’ve previously written that I think a sign of maturity is realizing that others are just as multi-dimensional as I. That when I walking up the sidewalk and pass a small work-crew, they are having a separate conversation that has nothing to do with me, and their thoughts about me begin and end with the Southern ritual “How’re ya doing?” and my impersonal response. That six billion plus people do not all exist to fulfill my needs. That people are not a drug for my ego or, going deeper, for my soul. And that when I try to use them as such, the soul hit* doesn’t last very long. The brief satisfaction it brings me to think that I am occupying some important mental and emotional space for a perfect stranger does not make me need the next person any less. Thus, I discover the insatiable appetite of my soul. Created to find identity outside of ourselves, we latch on to whatever makes us feel better. We can turn to temporary solutions, or abandon them for a true infinite**.
One difficulty is that we must abandon them again and again, when we awake, before we doze off, while cooking dinner, at work or on the commute. And sometimes we have to say goodbye to a good thing in order to keep it from going stale. Or maybe we have to fast from something that we enjoy in order to "leave room for longing," as Nate said it -- to remind our bodies that the soul needs more nourishment than physical food, entertainment, or relations.
*term used by my pastor on Sunday; not sure if he coined it or not
**after C.S. Lewis (constantly quoted by my pastor)… “the sweet poison of the false infinites”
Friday, February 22, 2008
Stuff it or consent to it?
I think too much. Is that one of those aggravating traits of my humanness that Gail says we just have to consent to, and keep going?
Can I curb it? It can probably be redirected... with considerable effort. I have tried to do so before, and experienced short reprieves. Instead of just thinking about that friend I haven't seen in a long time, pray for her. Instead of planning a million possible paths for my life over the next months, live in this day and in the excitement of this stage, rest in the assurance that I am not in control and can't know the future. Instead of beating myself up for letting my imagination get ahead of my life, breathe out, let go, and re-center on Christ.
Will I live inside myself or in the world?
Can I curb it? It can probably be redirected... with considerable effort. I have tried to do so before, and experienced short reprieves. Instead of just thinking about that friend I haven't seen in a long time, pray for her. Instead of planning a million possible paths for my life over the next months, live in this day and in the excitement of this stage, rest in the assurance that I am not in control and can't know the future. Instead of beating myself up for letting my imagination get ahead of my life, breathe out, let go, and re-center on Christ.
Will I live inside myself or in the world?
Sunday, February 17, 2008
impatience and trust
Since 1517, according to etymonline.com, the word patience has had the meaning "constancy in effort." Since 1985, I have not been very good at that.
I thought I would hear back from the organization in Colombia last week. I tried not to hope too much that I would, but am frustrated at the difficulty of communication across miles and cultures. I don't like to wait.
While awaiting their response, upon which I feel the direction of my future heavily rests, my mind has begun to race again. For months, while I tried to contact them to no avail, contemplated if I was serious about working with them, and then filled out the lengthy application, my tendency to plan a thousand different paths for my life dissipated. Now it is returning.
Like I talked about in the last post, I've taken the risk and offered myself and now I am hanging here, waiting to see if they want me. My initial peace about waiting is wearing thin. The planner in me is inducing mini freak-outs about what I'm going to do with the next months of my life.
So I need some reminders that I am not the one in charge here, that I am in good hands:
"...being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6)
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21, italics mine... it's sort of a mantra for me)
I also look back over the past years to examples of God's goodness and provision, reminders that He walks before me and behind me, that I need to trust in Him and not in any other person or thing. And I have good friends who encourage me in this learning to wait on the Lord. My parents, pointing to the classic "But they that wait upon the LORD will renew their strength" (Isaiah 40:31), and my roomate's note left for me on the counter, that is now taped to my mirror: "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34).
It is still my hope to hear from Colombia soon, to be accepted, to be able to start planning and raising money and feel a little bit of direction, but if they answer me with a "no" or "not now," then I trust in the bigger plan, the one that is immeasurably more than all I ask or imagine. My love for others and for God is growing, and my interests of ways to get involved and serve are, too. I am excited to see what the Lord makes of my life.
"But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." (Romans 8:25)
I thought I would hear back from the organization in Colombia last week. I tried not to hope too much that I would, but am frustrated at the difficulty of communication across miles and cultures. I don't like to wait.
While awaiting their response, upon which I feel the direction of my future heavily rests, my mind has begun to race again. For months, while I tried to contact them to no avail, contemplated if I was serious about working with them, and then filled out the lengthy application, my tendency to plan a thousand different paths for my life dissipated. Now it is returning.
Like I talked about in the last post, I've taken the risk and offered myself and now I am hanging here, waiting to see if they want me. My initial peace about waiting is wearing thin. The planner in me is inducing mini freak-outs about what I'm going to do with the next months of my life.
So I need some reminders that I am not the one in charge here, that I am in good hands:
"...being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6)
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21, italics mine... it's sort of a mantra for me)
I also look back over the past years to examples of God's goodness and provision, reminders that He walks before me and behind me, that I need to trust in Him and not in any other person or thing. And I have good friends who encourage me in this learning to wait on the Lord. My parents, pointing to the classic "But they that wait upon the LORD will renew their strength" (Isaiah 40:31), and my roomate's note left for me on the counter, that is now taped to my mirror: "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34).
It is still my hope to hear from Colombia soon, to be accepted, to be able to start planning and raising money and feel a little bit of direction, but if they answer me with a "no" or "not now," then I trust in the bigger plan, the one that is immeasurably more than all I ask or imagine. My love for others and for God is growing, and my interests of ways to get involved and serve are, too. I am excited to see what the Lord makes of my life.
"But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." (Romans 8:25)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
this business is risky
It's risky indeed, this business of BEING. Because central to this mission of embracing my human-ness and your human-ness, and of ushering in a new humanity, is a vulnerability so eXtreme that it could be a sport.
My lame joking aside, the choice between protecting myself and taking chances in the unpredictable realm of relationships is really difficult! I want to live in the tension and not throw the baby out with the bathwater... but there's so much dingy water that I sometimes wonder if the baby is worth getting my arms wet and dirty.
But neither do I want to be so paralyzed by fear that I cannot be an agent of grace, a "mobile garden" in the dried-out world, bringing hope. This isn't all about me reaching out to others, either. I need/want others to extend themselves to me, but I want it to be safe. I don't want to get hurt. And I (mostly) don't want to hurt anyone else. ('mostly' because the baggage includes a knife that's begging to be used to hurt and reject someone at least once!)
What can thaw the fear? What can break the self-protecting, self-seeking streak in me?
Here's Rob Bell on the subject:
"If there is a God who loves us and has acted in history to express that love, what would it look like? This is what I mean by the sheer poetry of the Jesus story. Jesus is God coming to us in love. Sheer unadulterated, unfiltered love. Stripped of everything that could get in the way. Naked and vulnerable, hanging on a cross, asking the question, 'What will you do with me?'
This is why for thousands of years Christians have found the cross to be so central to life. It speaks to us of God's suffering, God's pain, God's broken heart. It's God making the first move and then waiting for our response. If you have ever given yourself to someone and had your heart broken, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and found yourself waiting for their response, exposed and vulnerable, left hanging in the balance, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and they responded, they reciprocated with love of their own, you know how God feels." (Sex God 105-106)
... because He first loved me. God's movement toward me, making himself completely vulnerable and putting the power in my hands to accept or reject him -- let me seek courage there, in the power of the slain lamb.
[NOTE: I still think there have to be some boundaries for protection in all relationship, but in the choice to extend myself or retreat I hope to vote for risk-taking love every time.
"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." (Proverbs 4:23)]
My lame joking aside, the choice between protecting myself and taking chances in the unpredictable realm of relationships is really difficult! I want to live in the tension and not throw the baby out with the bathwater... but there's so much dingy water that I sometimes wonder if the baby is worth getting my arms wet and dirty.
But neither do I want to be so paralyzed by fear that I cannot be an agent of grace, a "mobile garden" in the dried-out world, bringing hope. This isn't all about me reaching out to others, either. I need/want others to extend themselves to me, but I want it to be safe. I don't want to get hurt. And I (mostly) don't want to hurt anyone else. ('mostly' because the baggage includes a knife that's begging to be used to hurt and reject someone at least once!)
What can thaw the fear? What can break the self-protecting, self-seeking streak in me?
Here's Rob Bell on the subject:
"If there is a God who loves us and has acted in history to express that love, what would it look like? This is what I mean by the sheer poetry of the Jesus story. Jesus is God coming to us in love. Sheer unadulterated, unfiltered love. Stripped of everything that could get in the way. Naked and vulnerable, hanging on a cross, asking the question, 'What will you do with me?'
This is why for thousands of years Christians have found the cross to be so central to life. It speaks to us of God's suffering, God's pain, God's broken heart. It's God making the first move and then waiting for our response. If you have ever given yourself to someone and had your heart broken, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and found yourself waiting for their response, exposed and vulnerable, left hanging in the balance, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and they responded, they reciprocated with love of their own, you know how God feels." (Sex God 105-106)
... because He first loved me. God's movement toward me, making himself completely vulnerable and putting the power in my hands to accept or reject him -- let me seek courage there, in the power of the slain lamb.
[NOTE: I still think there have to be some boundaries for protection in all relationship, but in the choice to extend myself or retreat I hope to vote for risk-taking love every time.
"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." (Proverbs 4:23)]
Friday, February 8, 2008
caught mid-molting
Lately I'm re-thinking a lot of my personal policies for interacting with others. Because of this re-evaluation, I'm feeling a little bewildered and imbalanced. Is this still me?
I like to imagine myself a queen of consistency, yet it always amazes me to look back at how much I've changed, and to think that in another few years, and then another few after that, and after that, I will keep changing, and yet still be myself.
Right now I'm losing feathers but they haven't been replaced yet. It's strange and frustrating and I want to get through to the end already! But, here is a time (a week? a month? how long will it last?) that I will to be able to point to and say, "There! That's the awkward feeling of growing into oneself! It doesn't just happen overnight."
I like to imagine myself a queen of consistency, yet it always amazes me to look back at how much I've changed, and to think that in another few years, and then another few after that, and after that, I will keep changing, and yet still be myself.
Right now I'm losing feathers but they haven't been replaced yet. It's strange and frustrating and I want to get through to the end already! But, here is a time (a week? a month? how long will it last?) that I will to be able to point to and say, "There! That's the awkward feeling of growing into oneself! It doesn't just happen overnight."
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
four-dimensional
I had an amazing Saturday morning last weekend. I met with a friend at a local coffee shop and we spent two and a half hours talking and laughing about life, our lives.
And that was life-giving for me.
Part of our conversation that I think is applicable to this, a blog about life and BEING to the fullest of our potential, was the realization that a big marker of maturation is being able to see others' multiple dimensions. I want to grow into that.
Again and again I see that living is about going deeper and truly seeing and knowing. It's about stripping off every label and supposition that weighs us down and getting particular with whatever it is we feel drawn to, from science to art, and above all with our fellow bearers-of-the-divine-image.
In seeking activites that are life-giving, spending time talking and sharing food with people is definitely on my list, along with riding bikes. More to come, I'm sure.
Today I read what I think was the best paragraph so far in Marquez's Cien años de soledad. If you've read it, or plan to, let me know and we'll be nerdy and lofty and discuss the power of the written word.
And that was life-giving for me.
Part of our conversation that I think is applicable to this, a blog about life and BEING to the fullest of our potential, was the realization that a big marker of maturation is being able to see others' multiple dimensions. I want to grow into that.
Again and again I see that living is about going deeper and truly seeing and knowing. It's about stripping off every label and supposition that weighs us down and getting particular with whatever it is we feel drawn to, from science to art, and above all with our fellow bearers-of-the-divine-image.
In seeking activites that are life-giving, spending time talking and sharing food with people is definitely on my list, along with riding bikes. More to come, I'm sure.
Today I read what I think was the best paragraph so far in Marquez's Cien años de soledad. If you've read it, or plan to, let me know and we'll be nerdy and lofty and discuss the power of the written word.
Friday, February 1, 2008
restless? redirect.
In a moment of silence and clarity on the way to work one night this week, I realized that I've been feeling restless lately.
And it's because I don't have a "next big plan" for my life, like I normally do. I'm in a waiting stage and I don't want to be. I know what I want to do: to go to Colombia and work with street kids through this organization: www.colombiastreetkids.org But right now I have to wait to see if they'll accept my application, and if so, when I would go there. And if they say no? What then?
I love teaching ESOL, but I've been a little frustrated with it recently and am wondering if I can keep doing this for the rest of the year (or at least through the end of the summer), and where I'll live when the lease is up, and if I'll stay in Greensboro then or not.
So I took advantage of a pause in my day to bring these anxieties to the front of my mind and lay them out in the open before God. And my restlessness is gone! It hasn't just disappeared, but rather it has been replaced with redirection. Redirection to focus myself and my energy on where I am now, instead of rushing ahead to the future (or trying to, and getting frustrated by what appears to be a blank wall where I want to see the next step or two of a staircase).
I got realigned to live in the present and to wholly BE not only who, but where I am.
Therefore, I point myself outward instead of inward; facing those around me: roommates, friends, coworkers, students, passersby; and pouring myself into their lives and into the life of my community.
Please hold me accountable to this.
And it's because I don't have a "next big plan" for my life, like I normally do. I'm in a waiting stage and I don't want to be. I know what I want to do: to go to Colombia and work with street kids through this organization: www.colombiastreetkids.org But right now I have to wait to see if they'll accept my application, and if so, when I would go there. And if they say no? What then?
I love teaching ESOL, but I've been a little frustrated with it recently and am wondering if I can keep doing this for the rest of the year (or at least through the end of the summer), and where I'll live when the lease is up, and if I'll stay in Greensboro then or not.
So I took advantage of a pause in my day to bring these anxieties to the front of my mind and lay them out in the open before God. And my restlessness is gone! It hasn't just disappeared, but rather it has been replaced with redirection. Redirection to focus myself and my energy on where I am now, instead of rushing ahead to the future (or trying to, and getting frustrated by what appears to be a blank wall where I want to see the next step or two of a staircase).
I got realigned to live in the present and to wholly BE not only who, but where I am.
Therefore, I point myself outward instead of inward; facing those around me: roommates, friends, coworkers, students, passersby; and pouring myself into their lives and into the life of my community.
Please hold me accountable to this.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
new humanity
There is a lot going on in my head, and I think the mix is brewing to something bigger, but it's not there yet and writing helps me sort it out while simultaneously recording the rabbit trails. Because you never know which tangent will turn into something more substantial (having real existence; something of substance, essential nature), something tangible (able to be realized or dealt with).
I want to talk about humanity. About recognizing those around us as fellow beings infused with the divine spark. About looking past the barriers we construct or those that have been constructed for us to see the truth: not color, not citizenship, not profession, not political or religious view. Instead, to tear down those "DIFFERENT FROM ME" walls and see the similarities.
Instead of fear or hatred or apathy, to be filled with love and compassion.
com + pati to suffer together.
Today I served tea to a prostitute and her client.
It left a scar on me, but my coworkers mainly responded with amusement and took turns walking through the lobby to see the "show".
She is my sister, and it breaks my heart. When she was a little girl, what did she dream? What did she want to be when she grew up?
Truly seeing each other is painful, and it is easier to keep the walls up. But can we enter the pain, and cross through it, and find life? Find a new humanity? A humanity that sees the similarities before the differences, a humanity whose base is that the "other" is just like me -- a bearer of the divine image.
"Only on love's terrible other side is found the place where the lion and lamb reside." (M. L'Engle, The Other Side of the Sun )
And--in all my righteous anger over the exploitation of women and sex and the human body, and institutionalized, systematic dehumanization by prostitution, slavery, torture, pornography, addiction, etc.--can I see the man who pays for a night with her as a fellow image-bearer, too? Can I extend grace to my fellow divine sparks who are bathed in apathy, cushioned by thick walls that provide easy labels to avoid the pain of re-humanizing the world?
"This one, too, this person Jesus died for. This is a child of God. How can I hate this person? God loves him. How can I fear this person? God treasures her."
(qtd. in Being White, Paula Harris and Doug Schaupp)
this is the only way. get particular. get down to the individual level, to the nitty-gritty, and wear glasses of love. this is how things change -- racism, sexism, classism, discrimination and division and inhumanity of any kind. this is how we bring heaven to earth.
I want to talk about humanity. About recognizing those around us as fellow beings infused with the divine spark. About looking past the barriers we construct or those that have been constructed for us to see the truth: not color, not citizenship, not profession, not political or religious view. Instead, to tear down those "DIFFERENT FROM ME" walls and see the similarities.
Instead of fear or hatred or apathy, to be filled with love and compassion.
com + pati to suffer together.
Today I served tea to a prostitute and her client.
It left a scar on me, but my coworkers mainly responded with amusement and took turns walking through the lobby to see the "show".
She is my sister, and it breaks my heart. When she was a little girl, what did she dream? What did she want to be when she grew up?
Truly seeing each other is painful, and it is easier to keep the walls up. But can we enter the pain, and cross through it, and find life? Find a new humanity? A humanity that sees the similarities before the differences, a humanity whose base is that the "other" is just like me -- a bearer of the divine image.
"Only on love's terrible other side is found the place where the lion and lamb reside." (M. L'Engle, The Other Side of the Sun )
And--in all my righteous anger over the exploitation of women and sex and the human body, and institutionalized, systematic dehumanization by prostitution, slavery, torture, pornography, addiction, etc.--can I see the man who pays for a night with her as a fellow image-bearer, too? Can I extend grace to my fellow divine sparks who are bathed in apathy, cushioned by thick walls that provide easy labels to avoid the pain of re-humanizing the world?
"This one, too, this person Jesus died for. This is a child of God. How can I hate this person? God loves him. How can I fear this person? God treasures her."
(qtd. in Being White, Paula Harris and Doug Schaupp)
this is the only way. get particular. get down to the individual level, to the nitty-gritty, and wear glasses of love. this is how things change -- racism, sexism, classism, discrimination and division and inhumanity of any kind. this is how we bring heaven to earth.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Return to Me
Why this title? Two reasons:
1. I just watched this movie, in which David Duchovney falls in love with Minnie Driver, who received his dead wife's heart. Of course, when I came into the room I thought my friends told me that the gorilla had a woman's heart and I was a bit confused. However, it's a pretty cute movie.
2. I just returned to my lovely Greensboro from Miami, that foreign country at the bottom of Florida.
Four things I like about Miami:
1. hearing different languages on all sides
2. the cultural, ethnic, and racial mixing
3. the food
(yes, those three are all connected, I suppose) and
4. going to the beach in January!
One thing I don't like about Miami (or at least, South Beach):
1. the overwhelmingly materialistic and super-sexualized atmosphere.
Continuing amazement: I travelled 800 miles in less than 2 hours. Twice.
Thanks to precise scientific measurements and experiments involving flaps and propellers and wind currents and many other things that I don't understand (plus a little magic, I'm sure), I don't have to drive half a day to see a friend. I was thirty-seven thousand feet up in the air! And I feel fine!
I've flown before, and further, but this just amazes me when I really think about it.
1. I just watched this movie, in which David Duchovney falls in love with Minnie Driver, who received his dead wife's heart. Of course, when I came into the room I thought my friends told me that the gorilla had a woman's heart and I was a bit confused. However, it's a pretty cute movie.
2. I just returned to my lovely Greensboro from Miami, that foreign country at the bottom of Florida.
Four things I like about Miami:
1. hearing different languages on all sides
2. the cultural, ethnic, and racial mixing
3. the food
(yes, those three are all connected, I suppose) and
4. going to the beach in January!
One thing I don't like about Miami (or at least, South Beach):
1. the overwhelmingly materialistic and super-sexualized atmosphere.
Continuing amazement: I travelled 800 miles in less than 2 hours. Twice.
Thanks to precise scientific measurements and experiments involving flaps and propellers and wind currents and many other things that I don't understand (plus a little magic, I'm sure), I don't have to drive half a day to see a friend. I was thirty-seven thousand feet up in the air! And I feel fine!
I've flown before, and further, but this just amazes me when I really think about it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Who hits a bus??
This morning, the bus I was riding got rear-ended.
Thankfully, we were only a couple of blocks from the terminal (where we were headed) so we three passengers just got off and walked. But really, did the driver not see the bus in front of him? Maybe he was messing with his radio. When I think about it that way, I'm surprised I've never hit a bus before.
Frustration: Being a young, single woman teaching adult students from other cultures. As your instructor I can not date you, nor do I want to, really.
Especially when you're twice my age.
Or can't even put together the complete sentence to ask for my number.
But then, I feel bad because I'm the teacher and my desire is for them to enjoy class and to learn and to become more comfortable in the cultural setting. Besides, it takes guts to ask somebody out. And I don't want to crush them.
Advice? Opinions? (Oh, and I'm a terrible liar, so making up a boyfriend probably won't work too well.)
On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum: I had a nice conversation with a girl on my way back to Greensboro, whose enthusiasm was contagious. She was going to meet her fiance after not seeing each other for two years. He'd been in prison in New York and they're going to get married tomorrow. Her birthday is Friday. Their daughter is going to be surprised that Daddy is finally able to make good on the promise to come play with her. It's a big week!
It's a big week for my household, too. Two roommate birthdays (one, a twenty-first) and a trip to Miami!!!
Thankfully, we were only a couple of blocks from the terminal (where we were headed) so we three passengers just got off and walked. But really, did the driver not see the bus in front of him? Maybe he was messing with his radio. When I think about it that way, I'm surprised I've never hit a bus before.
Frustration: Being a young, single woman teaching adult students from other cultures. As your instructor I can not date you, nor do I want to, really.
Especially when you're twice my age.
Or can't even put together the complete sentence to ask for my number.
But then, I feel bad because I'm the teacher and my desire is for them to enjoy class and to learn and to become more comfortable in the cultural setting. Besides, it takes guts to ask somebody out. And I don't want to crush them.
Advice? Opinions? (Oh, and I'm a terrible liar, so making up a boyfriend probably won't work too well.)
On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum: I had a nice conversation with a girl on my way back to Greensboro, whose enthusiasm was contagious. She was going to meet her fiance after not seeing each other for two years. He'd been in prison in New York and they're going to get married tomorrow. Her birthday is Friday. Their daughter is going to be surprised that Daddy is finally able to make good on the promise to come play with her. It's a big week!
It's a big week for my household, too. Two roommate birthdays (one, a twenty-first) and a trip to Miami!!!
Friday, January 11, 2008
sharp knives
Part of my job as a tea hostess is preparing for the following day. After the guests have been served, the bills have been paid, the lobby has been cleaned, and the dishes have been washed, two things are left: folding napkins and cutting lemons.
This evening, I went back to the pastry kitchen in search of a knife for my lemon-cutting duties. I watched as the pastry chef rinsed one off for me and swiftly and skillfully honed the blade.
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." (proverbs 27:17)
I went to a friend's apartment after work to see her new place and have some tea (after serving all afternoon, it's nice to be served!). We ended up making some tapas and having great conversation, encouraging each other, sympathizing with one another, and discussing recent thoughts and mini-epiphanies.
In the struggle to be fully human -- to BE -- connection is so essential, and yet so easy to breeze right past. I was supposed to go eat and stay the night with another good friend, but those plans fell through. Either way, I'm sure my night would've been refreshing and fun, but BEING for that time with Anna was life-giving for both of us. We shared from what we've been reading and listening to lately; we spoke affirming truths. I left feeling satisfied and fortified -- sharpened -- from time with another little iron.
I always want to go and do. To be "productive". Suddenly, instead of responsibilites being good things, I find myself enslaved and unable to enjoy. Work becomes "the daily grind" instead of a meaningful and stimulating pursuit.
It's my tendency to try to cram too much in, and this can reach into the social realm as well. Instead of really being with a friend, I am thinking about what, or who, is next on my agenda for the day. "Concentrate on the particulars," says the Madeleine L'Engle who lives in my head. Don't just have a dialogue (dia: across, legein: speak), have a conversation (conversari: live with, keep company with; literally, "turn about with").
Let's turn about with each other. Let's live. Let's encourage each other to really see, really hear, really taste, smell, and feel. Rub up against each other: sharpen up.
proper respects to: my dear Madeleine (A Circle of Quiet again), www.etymonline.com, http://joyinthemargins.blogspot.com (especially his late-2007 series on margin)
This evening, I went back to the pastry kitchen in search of a knife for my lemon-cutting duties. I watched as the pastry chef rinsed one off for me and swiftly and skillfully honed the blade.
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." (proverbs 27:17)
I went to a friend's apartment after work to see her new place and have some tea (after serving all afternoon, it's nice to be served!). We ended up making some tapas and having great conversation, encouraging each other, sympathizing with one another, and discussing recent thoughts and mini-epiphanies.
In the struggle to be fully human -- to BE -- connection is so essential, and yet so easy to breeze right past. I was supposed to go eat and stay the night with another good friend, but those plans fell through. Either way, I'm sure my night would've been refreshing and fun, but BEING for that time with Anna was life-giving for both of us. We shared from what we've been reading and listening to lately; we spoke affirming truths. I left feeling satisfied and fortified -- sharpened -- from time with another little iron.
I always want to go and do. To be "productive". Suddenly, instead of responsibilites being good things, I find myself enslaved and unable to enjoy. Work becomes "the daily grind" instead of a meaningful and stimulating pursuit.
It's my tendency to try to cram too much in, and this can reach into the social realm as well. Instead of really being with a friend, I am thinking about what, or who, is next on my agenda for the day. "Concentrate on the particulars," says the Madeleine L'Engle who lives in my head. Don't just have a dialogue (dia: across, legein: speak), have a conversation (conversari: live with, keep company with; literally, "turn about with").
Let's turn about with each other. Let's live. Let's encourage each other to really see, really hear, really taste, smell, and feel. Rub up against each other: sharpen up.
proper respects to: my dear Madeleine (A Circle of Quiet again), www.etymonline.com, http://joyinthemargins.blogspot.com (especially his late-2007 series on margin)
Monday, January 7, 2008
primavera en enero
("spring in january"... but i like the sound of it better in Spanish. There are more repeated sounds. or how about primero veranenero, which is jibberish-y, but has even more rhyme-y/ alliterative syllables and could mean something like "first summer-january")
Today in my break between working, I walked down to the park with a blanket, my journal, and a book to enjoy the weather. My occasional whistles accompanied the steady flip-flop rhythm of my paces. Breathe deeply: be conscious of each breath.
In the grass, dotted with spiky sweet-gum balls, I spread my mat. Bare toes encouraged soles to take it all off and get comfortable. My soul got comfortable. I faced the sun, felt as though I were setting aside time to have daily prayers, like a faithful Muslim facing Mecca. Only, I think I was actually facing south-ish. No matter: this is holy ground.
Each breath in rejuvinated. Each breath out gave thanks.
It lasted like this for about 7 minutes.
and then, the clock pealed the half-hour and I looked around and decided to read.
unfinished thoughts: could it have lasted longer? could i have reconnected? this rest was wonderful; why don't we have mandated breaks to re-center? siesta, prayer times (the Islamic world has five; can't we at least have one?), elevensies, whatever!
thanks to: http://www.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/Homework/religion/Islam.htm#pray , Rob Bell (again, but this time via Nooma video "Breathe"), my small group ladies for wonderful convo
Today in my break between working, I walked down to the park with a blanket, my journal, and a book to enjoy the weather. My occasional whistles accompanied the steady flip-flop rhythm of my paces. Breathe deeply: be conscious of each breath.
In the grass, dotted with spiky sweet-gum balls, I spread my mat. Bare toes encouraged soles to take it all off and get comfortable. My soul got comfortable. I faced the sun, felt as though I were setting aside time to have daily prayers, like a faithful Muslim facing Mecca. Only, I think I was actually facing south-ish. No matter: this is holy ground.
Each breath in rejuvinated. Each breath out gave thanks.
It lasted like this for about 7 minutes.
and then, the clock pealed the half-hour and I looked around and decided to read.
unfinished thoughts: could it have lasted longer? could i have reconnected? this rest was wonderful; why don't we have mandated breaks to re-center? siesta, prayer times (the Islamic world has five; can't we at least have one?), elevensies, whatever!
thanks to: http://www.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/Homework/religion/Islam.htm#pray , Rob Bell (again, but this time via Nooma video "Breathe"), my small group ladies for wonderful convo
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Ontology is the "metaphysical science or study of being," and comes from the latin "ontologia".
This blog, if I manage to stay committed to it, will hopefully present snippets of a study of being: of my life and personal growth and regressions, of human nature, and of the sparks of the divine in and all around us. These studies of being will come in the form of reflections on books, interactions, thoughts, and travels. They will be an attempt to keep a record, and to find the cosmic in the chaos.
I desire to make a mark, albeit a rudimentary scratch or doodle in the dirt. This is a very human impulse. It is part of being.
I am not one who makes New Year's Resolutions. I prefer short-term goals and long-term aspirations, but don't usually view my life in twelve-month blocks. Maybe this is why New Year's celebrations are confusing to me. The second between December 31 of one year and January 1 of the next doesn't mystify me or thrill me as much as it seems to affect those around me. Am I a scrooge? (By the way, thank you, Mr. Dickens, for your impact on the English language.)
What does this new year have in store for me, then? It will be my first full calendar-year since 1989 of not being in school. I hope to travel some, to make conscious and consistent efforts to spend time with friends, and to keep reading. I hope to continue toward (and attain?) complete financial independence from my parents. I hope to continue to enjoy my work. I hope to more fully enjoy the good things of life in all its moments, including this one, rather than always and only looking ahead.
I hope to remind myself to live "ontologically" -- to be what I am, without trying to add to or take away from that essence (Gk. ousia).
I am human. Therefore, let me be fully human: neither animal nor angel. I will live in that tension. I consent to it.
[Maybe the creation of this blog is an attempt, or the result of a desire, to have a Resolution. "Resolution" being a breaking down into simpler parts, an understanding or solving, as well as making a decision and holding firmly (as in resolute). The "holding firmly" part is what scares me. I don't want to make this blog a chore, and then feel guilty if (inevitably, when) I slack off. I do, however, want an outlet and some feedback occasionally. Also, this is more formal than my paper journal, and can perhaps motivate me to write again. I miss harnessing my creativity.]
authors who deserve recognition for their contributions to my thoughts: Madeleine L'Engle (A Circle of Quiet, The Summer of the Great-Grandmother) and Rob Bell (Sex God)
websites: www.etymonline.com
This blog, if I manage to stay committed to it, will hopefully present snippets of a study of being: of my life and personal growth and regressions, of human nature, and of the sparks of the divine in and all around us. These studies of being will come in the form of reflections on books, interactions, thoughts, and travels. They will be an attempt to keep a record, and to find the cosmic in the chaos.
I desire to make a mark, albeit a rudimentary scratch or doodle in the dirt. This is a very human impulse. It is part of being.
I am not one who makes New Year's Resolutions. I prefer short-term goals and long-term aspirations, but don't usually view my life in twelve-month blocks. Maybe this is why New Year's celebrations are confusing to me. The second between December 31 of one year and January 1 of the next doesn't mystify me or thrill me as much as it seems to affect those around me. Am I a scrooge? (By the way, thank you, Mr. Dickens, for your impact on the English language.)
What does this new year have in store for me, then? It will be my first full calendar-year since 1989 of not being in school. I hope to travel some, to make conscious and consistent efforts to spend time with friends, and to keep reading. I hope to continue toward (and attain?) complete financial independence from my parents. I hope to continue to enjoy my work. I hope to more fully enjoy the good things of life in all its moments, including this one, rather than always and only looking ahead.
I hope to remind myself to live "ontologically" -- to be what I am, without trying to add to or take away from that essence (Gk. ousia).
I am human. Therefore, let me be fully human: neither animal nor angel. I will live in that tension. I consent to it.
[Maybe the creation of this blog is an attempt, or the result of a desire, to have a Resolution. "Resolution" being a breaking down into simpler parts, an understanding or solving, as well as making a decision and holding firmly (as in resolute). The "holding firmly" part is what scares me. I don't want to make this blog a chore, and then feel guilty if (inevitably, when) I slack off. I do, however, want an outlet and some feedback occasionally. Also, this is more formal than my paper journal, and can perhaps motivate me to write again. I miss harnessing my creativity.]
authors who deserve recognition for their contributions to my thoughts: Madeleine L'Engle (A Circle of Quiet, The Summer of the Great-Grandmother) and Rob Bell (Sex God)
websites: www.etymonline.com
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