Safe, But Not Sound

Summertime

2011-07-12T21:51:00.003-05:00

Just when the summer seems the most insufferable, on a late afternoon, the clouds roll in. Dramatic cracks of thunder warn of the coming storm. The cool downdraft blows the thick heat and humidity away, and after the rain, I go for a run. My shoes feel soft and spongy on the damp pavement, the air feels wonderful in my lungs and I fly around the park in record time, maybe. Maybe not; but I feel good, and that’s something.

The clouds make twilight seem earlier. The wind rattles down drops from heavy-laden leaves and it feels like autumn for a moment. The evening lantern orbs are lit, guiding my way home, and a few timid fireflies make their way around low branches.

I notice in the distance, silvery leaves hanging on branches, cascading over the earth. I approach and see a tree down, the tallest tree in the park? Perhaps. I walk around the wreckage and see that there is still a mighty tall stump with lots-of-life left standing. The top of the tree (mostly likely hit by lightning) lies on the ground, and has taken down a giant branch of another tree. It’s hard to see where one stops and the other begins. I walk to what was the highest point of this tallest tree and pluck one leaf, to keep.

I think of the mighty storm, bringing the top of the tree to a child’s level, to the ground. I think of the giant stump which will probably make it, and how these trials are part of nature, but survival is too. I think of the little leaf in my hand, and how I will forget what it is and throw it away. I make my way home. It is dusk. The night is beautiful.

Twelve Days

2011-05-09T06:52:00.005-05:00

This morning, I'm awake before dawn. It's dark out, and the fan blows mild May breezes over me. I decide to get up, and enjoy a breakfast of several clementine oranges and coffee on the balcony.

There is much to do today. After much agonizing, striving, and finally peace, I have a new job. It's a different setting with a different population, but it's still what I went to school to do, and enjoy. So many reasons to be thankful.

But I'm not in my new job yet. The next two weeks will be wrapping up the old. Terminating with all my clients is like breaking up, over a period of 2 and a half weeks, with 25 or so people. I've walked with all these people, to varying degrees, for a while now, some for years. I've grown to love them, in the midst of their stories. Walking away means trusting that God over them is greater, and that it is not me who sustains. Walking away means acknowledging that I am just a humble dispenser of any good that happened in that office, not the source. It means trusting people, in the dignity given them by God, to have their own inner resources, and to be ok, by God's grace. It keeps me from becoming self-important as a helper. And it's hard.

I'm so thankful for a weekend that took me completely outside that world of work. Time to go back. Two more weeks.

Breaking A Long Silence

2011-03-09T22:59:00.004-06:00

I haven't written in a long time. Partially because I feel like my thoughts tend to repeat themselves and I've already said it, partially because I felt I had no news that was impersonal enough to share online but personal enough to be interesting, and partially because I just didn't get around to it.

This winter has hung on like nobody's business! I'm so ready for Spring.

I wanted to break my silence with a song... this is the opening song of a folk opera by Anais Mitchell. I'm fascinated!

Good Luck or Bad Luck?

2010-06-09T23:16:00.004-05:00

We are just weeks away from Summer Solstice… my planner keeps reminding me as I schedule work appointments for that date and beyond. As I drive away from work on a late night, there is still dusky light at 9 pm. From now until early October, the sun will reign in St. Louis skies.

It’s an open-window evening. Storms have chased all the heaviness from the air and the evening breeze is cool and invigorating. It’s a rarity in June, and will be utterly abnormal come August. I love open windows. The air-conditioner never really feels fresh like outdoor breezes. The neighbor’s dog is baying as people stream out from the jazz festival in the nearby park. Someone’s cigarette smoke is drifting in along with a girl’s shrieky laughter from the sidewalk below, and I toy with being annoyed before I set it aside and focus on responding to emails.

I was talking with a friend yesterday, about those unanswered prayers that turn out to be a blessing in disguise. We just don’t know the outcomes of things, so how can we anticipate what will be best for us? And it seems, in retrospect, that learning to rely on God in the “whatever” is more important than the outcomes that seem so pressing. (It almost never seems so in the moment...But if we truly trust He will provide for our NEEDS... and cares deeply about us, his children...)

It reminds me of a folk-tale (Chinese) that I loved growing up.

The Chinese farmer
There is a story of an old farmer who had only one, old horse for tilling his fields. One day the horse escaped into the hills. All the farmer's neighbors sympathized with the old man over his bad luck, the farmer replied, 'Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?'
A week later the horse returned--this time bringing with her two beautiful, wild horses. The neighbors became excited at the farmer's good fortune. Such lovely strong horses! The farmer said, 'Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?'
Then, when the farmer's son attempted to tame one of the wild horses, he fell off its back and broke his leg. All the neighbors were very distressed. Such bad luck! Not the farmer, whose only reaction was, 'Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?'
Some weeks later the army marched into the village and conscripted every able-bodied youth they found there. When they saw the farmer's son with his broken leg they let him off. Only because the son was lame did the father and son survive to take care of each other. Truly, blessing turns to disaster, and disaster to blessing...

Our confidence is not in our circumstances, but in the Lord, who can bring blessing from disaster!

Work

2010-05-25T10:23:00.005-05:00

Morning has broken, warm and humid over St. Louis. It’s been pleasant and cool all spring so we act surprised when summer weather (hardly early or unexpected) arrives on our doorsteps. I greet the day the way I most love to greet days: leisurely coffee and a run before work. These are the benefits of working evenings.

I’ve grown accustomed to my schedule, my routine drive into another state. With two close friends graduating and seeking work in the same field, I remember 6 ½ years ago when I was in the same place of needing a job. I remember how discouraging the job-search felt at times. I remember a friend’s mother trying to encourage me to work for Enterprise Rent-a-Car- “they treat their employees well and help pay off student loans.” (That was NOT encouraging, that wasn’t why I went to grad school!) But despite all the angst, there was a job for me, doing exactly what I went to grad school for, and I’ve been there ever since. Will I move on at some point? That’s likely, but not now.

The waiting is a struggle at times. At times it's hard to see where things are going, what (if anything) is being accomplished in staying put. I think back to the job-search and know that "this" (work) is better than "that" but that doesn't mean "this" is without struggle or difficulty.

I look to the God-Who-Provides for wisdom and strength. God-Who-Sees-Me is with me. In the meantime, I save my pennies, my dollars that once went towards a car payment (now paid off). I’m saving for a big trip. I'm saving my vacation days too. This fall, I’m going to try to travel to Greece with friends. If I’m careful, maybe I can do it! I remember the last big trip I took, to Congo. What a contrast. I think fondly of my friends in Congo and pray for our church team that is leaving in a week.

This weekend I will see family and celebrate my dad's birthday. It will be good. And then back to work. My clients await. For now, I am here for them. I am here as long as I'm supposed to be.

Good Morning World!

2010-02-18T09:00:00.003-06:00

The light is changing. Days are getting longer now. Morning awakenings feel groggy and hopeful. I hear the chirping of birds. Sunlight streams through the crack in the curtains. Pulling them back reveals pockets of snow on the hill below, snow tucked in shadows and low places, but the sun is doing her work.

Soon will come the crocus, daffodil, and asparagus; all of those early-spring flavors that make us feel like airing out indoor places. Soon, a jacket will suffice when going for a walk in the park. Soon, the smell of the damp soil will be released from its frozen prison.

And soon, I will be released from my winter routine of going to a gym and laboring on a machine that simulates walking, running, biking, moving. (I prefer the one like “climbing.”) Is it any wonder that gymnasiums originated in frigid Russia? But soon I will be released from my Siberian prison, and the time change will allow me evening hours of light, sunset, and dusk in which to play.

This time of year I always get restless for the warmth of the sun on my bare skin, and release from hibernation. It’s a hopeful kind of restless, because the change is certain.

A Song For Late Winter

2010-02-04T19:22:00.002-06:00

Well, here it is, February. The groundhog saw his shadow and there's a snowstorm on it's way. That's not so bad from a cozy home, Senegalese Chicken Soup simmering on the stove and snacking on some jalapeno-flavored potato chips.

For some reason, Spring-cleaning is coming a little early to me this year, and I've been feverishly cleaning the house and office. Tonight, I will meet the usual people at the usual pub. It's a good Thursday.

Here's a song and a recipe.

Senegalese Chicken Soup

1 large or 2 medium onions, diced
4-5 Tbsp olive oil
2 tsp garlic, chopped
1/2 cup curry powder
1-2 tsp cayenne pepper (to taste)
2 tsp ground coriander
1 large can (6 cups) chicken broth
1 Tbsp sugar
1 can (28 oz.) tomato puree
1 can (28 oz.) crushed tomatoes
1 can (28 oz.) petite diced tomatoes
salt and pepper (to taste)
3/4 cup smooth peanut butter
1.5 lb chicken breasts*
2 bunches green onion or scallions, sliced thinly
1/2 c. peanuts, chopped
1/4 c. fresh cilantro, chopped

*Optional: marinade chicken breasts ahead of time (at least 1 hour) in a mixture of curry powder, garlic pepper, and water

In a deep pot, cook onions in olive oil until soft and translucent. Add garlic and saute two minutes. Add curry powder, cayenne pepper, and coriander and fry for an additional two minutes, adding small amounts of olive oil if mixture becomes too dry.

Add chicken broth and scrape bottom of pot well with a wooden spoon. Add tomato puree, crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes, and salt & pepper. Simmer for 30 minutes, stirring and scraping bottom often. Do not boil.

While soup is simmering, cook chicken breasts in boiling water until done (15-20 minutes). Drain and either cube or shred chicken into bite-sized pieces. Set aside.

Combine peanut butter and 1/3 of soup in blender or food processor and blend until pureed. Once smooth, add back to remaining soup and stir well.

Add chicken and scallions to soup and cook 5 minutes. Add peanuts and cilantro either as a garnish or simply stirred into entire pot of soup. Serve.

Note: if you plan to serve this soup to those you know do not enjoy food that is even a little spicy, leave out the cayenne pepper altogether. There is enough heat in the curry powder to give it a bite without ruining the overall effect of the soup.

Season's Tidings

2009-12-15T00:28:00.003-06:00

It’s a season of hooplah and parties, trays overflowing with festive savories and sweets. We run around, dinner half-eaten, making each engagement, and meeting responsibilities. Is it any wonder we are all nursing colds? I’m tired. It’s late and I’m sleepy. The weather keeps waffling back and forth between a mild fifty degrees and bracing twenties. Still no snow. Not here anyway.

Sometimes in the city traffic I feel like we are all playing the children’s game “Red Light, Green Light.” Idle, poised on the starting line, the light changes, the cars lurch forward. Race, race, as fast as you can—RED LIGHT! Stop. Wait… Wait for it, and GO!!! And on and on it goes- only I don’t know who wins.

Sunday, as we sang carols of hope and joy at church, I was feeling the heaviness… the heaviness of the news, the heaviness of sin and how the people I love the most, I end up treating the worst. The heaviness of illness and cancer and how they bring down some of the most lovely people. I had to ask God to restore my hope and my joy. Sometimes I just see the weight of others’ sin, the weight of my own sin, the weight of catastrophe and I have a hard time seeing any further. But then the light comes through the clouds, for a brief moment, I see the “why” and small glimpses of the bigger “how.”

For a moment, purpose is restored. Today, at my work, I felt like Queen Esther. Who knows if I have been sent to work here for such a time as this… as I saw one particular client and how her life hangs in the balance right now… I saw that like Queen Esther, I must be smart in how I present things to the powers that be, to help this woman speak for herself. I saw that I must wait on the delicate timing of God. I prayed for Satan to be bound in the situation, that he would not destroy this woman.

I don’t know how we do it. We go back and forth between spiritual battle, and rebuilding human lives, to holiday parties, and cleaning up after kids. We do laundry and we battle traffic to buy a little something to show someone we care. And we share a meaningful glance across a crowded room, and we offer a silent prayer or a gentle squeeze, and somehow, the love of God binds us together, and reminds us that through all the trials, there is hope and there is joy.

Evening, Morning

2009-11-04T00:31:00.001-06:00

When Day Is Done

If the day is done,
if birds sing no more,
if the wind has flagged tired,
then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me,
even as thou has wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep
and tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.

From the traveler,
Whose sack of provisions is empty before the voyage is ended,
whose garment is torn and dust-laden,
whose strength is exhausted,
remove shame and poverty,
and renew his life like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night.

A Passing Breeze

Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love,
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves,
these idle clouds sailing across the sky,
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.

The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes,
and my heart has touched thy feet.

-Rabinadrath Tagore

Swine Flu Movie Review

2009-10-17T23:09:00.002-05:00

This week I felt a bit like Rip Van Winkle. Monday I went to sleep and then Tuesday through now were a hazy blur of coughing, watching movies, and vegging out, H1N1-style. Yep, Tuesday morning I awoke with a strange sore throat and cough. Each day I truly intended to recover to full health but didn’t. It was a lost week. Today I’m feeling more myself, and am washing sheets, dishes, airing the place out.

Though the week took me away from my responsibilities, it left me in a medicine-hush, glued to the small screen to catch up on movies lent to me by kind friends. These aren’t necessarily new or great. They are just what I watched this week. My week, in movies:

Charlie Bartlett
Charlie Bartlett is a wealthy prep-school boy with too much inventive energy for his own good. After being kicked out of yet another prep-school, Charlie has to try his hand at public high school. He is beaten up by bullies, but turns the situation around, becoming business partners with the bullies and selling prescription medications (like ritilin and anti-anxiety meds) to the other kids at school. In the process, he becomes a bit of a shrink and guru to much of the student body, because he chooses to listen to the other students in their struggles. The movie looks at themes of needing to be liked (by teens and adults who are acting like teens in their need to be liked), kids having to parent their parents and coming into adulthood. In my swine-flu state, I liked lots about the movie, but the last 15 minutes didn’t do much for me. The movie seemed to look in the eyes of all the problems in its character’s lives, and like the overly-permissive, buddy parents portrayed, leave us with nothing more than a warbling, “Do what you feel.”

The Devil Wears Prada
This “Cinderella at work” tale, of a normal girl working in a high powered fashion magazine office (with an evil and controlling boss), was actually lots of fun to watch. I thought Anne Hathaway did a great job at showing her struggles with the demands of her work, then buying into it, and selling out. The movie toys with questions of materialism, inner and outer beauty but never becomes heavy-handed. The question we are all asking Anne Hathaway’s character by the end, is “How far are you willing to go? How much you are willing to take?” Well done, a light movie that doesn’t leave you feeling empty!

Zoolander
Funny, funny, I never get tired of seeing Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson together. This is just a silly movie about a ridiculous male model, being turned into an assassin by the evil Mugutu. I rewatched this one, but fell asleep somewhere in the middle. “Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good looking?”

Lars and the Real Girl
I don’t know if it was the illness or the movie, but I found myself crying through this tale of one man’s “mental illness” and grief, and his community’s care for him. It was definitely worth seeing; with themes of loving others, loneliness, family, and loss. Lars is isolated and anxious, and mostly responds to others with blank stares and by retreating. He finds an imaginary friend who can help bridge his way back into community. Bianca, his “friend” (who happens to be a life-sized doll), is fake, so she will never die, and will stay with him forever. Having someone by his side seems to ease Lars’ anxiety about coming back into connection with people. This movie is gentle and loving- really well done!

Girl With A Pearl Earring
This is a beautifully filmed movie about a girl who becomes a maid in the house of Vermeer, the painter. I must confess, that though it appeared interesting, and each camera shot was like a beautiful painting, I fell asleep (watching the paint dry). Maybe I’ll pick it up some other time! Or maybe not? I don't know.

Once
This one I watched with friends before, so now I’ve seen it twice. It’s a goody if you like Ireland, movies about musicians trying to make it big, romantic angst, or un-hollywood endings. I like at least three of those, so I like this movie!

***

The good news is my swine flu appears to be in remission. The bad(?) news is I probably won’t be watching any movies for awhile. (Well, I’m planning to see “Where the Wild Things Are” soon.) What can a movie based on an eleven-sentence children’s book be like? That remains to be seen!

In the meantime “I SURVIVED THE SWINE FLU OF 2009!”

Saying Goodbye

2009-09-14T16:12:00.003-05:00

It was a strange and sad weekend, but ultimately for the good of all. This weekend, my pesky, little cat moved to a kindly couple’s farm in rural Illinois. It was not a decision made lightly. Though I was very fond of his companionship, his ability to play fetch, and his warm, furry self in the wintertime, Larry was also mean to all guests who came through, and made weekend visitors very uncomfortable. He wouldn’t be afraid of people and run hide; he would be afraid of people, and rush to attack and intimidate. It’s actually a wonder I kept him as long as I did, but I usually would just lock him in a bedroom until my visitors left.

Now he will be able to run and play outside to his hearts content, and his new owner has a good heart and understanding of cat behavior. God’s provision of a safe home for a mean little cat like Larry is certainly encouraging to me. Maybe there is a place for everyone. (I think of kids I’ve known in worse circumstances, and say a little prayer).

Today I’m doing a deep clean- getting all the little piles of cat hair that used to collect despite my best intentions. I keep noticing all the ways I adapted myself to this cat when I instinctively pull the door to the basement shut behind me so he doesn’t follow, or when I open a crinkly wrapper, I find myself looking up for him to come running. It’s a bittersweet moment. I will miss him and his many cute habits. I won’t miss other things at all.

Summer Evening Walk

2009-08-04T09:29:00.003-05:00

A friend and I were walking and talking last evening. It’s been a cool summer, but the night air was heavy and warm. We were reflecting on things… I thought about people I’ve known for a long time, people whose eyes have lost their sparkle, people who have been hurt or are sad. I thought about people I work with, and their deep struggles.

Our hearts hurt for one another, and when one falls, we aren’t ok. I thought about God as the shepherd, seeking out the lost and just how many there are… so many lambs. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the problems and the broken hearts I see around me, just by the sheer volume of pain and sad stories. Sometimes in my work, I feel submerged, like maybe I could be drowned by all the heartache around me.

Somehow in the summer air, in the light of the near-full moon, my mind shifted. The fabric of pain and suffering and sorrow was transformed, if only for that moment. I felt the treasure in knowing one another so deeply. Part of our sadness is in knowing the secret sufferings of one other. We know each other’s disappointments and losses, struggles and places of questioning.

We are incredibly rich to be known.

As a stranger in town, I could look around and say “Yeah, these people seem cool.” I could superficially pick traits about each that I like (and there are so many) but over time, in context, I also see the teardrops wear the faces down, weathering the smiles and optimism. I’m thankful not to be alone as I walk through this thing called life.

My friend and I were quiet, and looked at the moon. We shared memories of dancing here in the moonlight. We walked to the edge of a fountain. It was a clear basin, the water smelled faintly chlorinated. It didn’t look so deep. We gave one another a knowing look, and took our shoes off and stepped in. We walked around the ankle deep wading pool a bit. It felt amazing- the freshest thing we had ever felt. We grew bolder, and climbed down a waterfall of stone steps. We came to the pool at the base and she jumped in. We both submerged and then played in the waterfalls, feeling the power of the water heavy on our backs, rippling over us like laughter.

There are good moments and memories we share, too. This also is our treasure.

Sunday Afternoon

2009-07-12T16:06:00.004-05:00

It's a sleepy kind of day. For lunch, I helped host some students from Northern Ireland and a couple kids from Alabama who had come to St. Louis for a work project with my church. I was in that mood where I could go either way, either avoid people entirely and curl up for a Sunday nap, or stretch myself a bit with hospitality. Today I chose the latter, and I was glad.

Now I'm sitting on a couch with a cup of coffee at hand, a cocker spaniel on my lap, and some friends around, noses buried in books and laptops. It's a peaceful moment.

Peaceful no more! People keep coming in the door. All friendly faces. It's spontaneously turning into a social gathering. The cocker spaniel runs to the door to greet the newcomers. Tea or coffee for everyone.

In the city, they are prepping for the All Star game. Apparently something was rained out, so the friends came from an event at the stadium. I'm going to go find a book. It's a stormy, grey day and it just sounds like the perfect thing: conversation, a good book, a cup of coffee.

Snippets

2009-07-01T00:49:00.003-05:00

The reason I like reading better than watching video is time.... I'm a time junkie. I love choosing how I use my time. So when I'm reading a news article I can skim the boring parts and focus on the points of interest, or take a glance and decide whether or not it's worth reading. When websites and others post their news in videocasts, I get bored at the thought of wading through whatever unnecessaries are added. And often annoying little commercials get thrown in as well!

Well, we got the kayaking trip in.... that was a big "yay!" Weather and circumstances cooperated for a wonderful weekend away. Now my friend and I are imagining buying used kayaks.... maybe someday! Probably not for a long while.

The state is considering cutting funding for lots of stuff in their budget mess, of most concern to me, a great deal of cuts for human services across the board. We'll see where that leaves me and the people I serve. No immediate danger for my job, but it's an ugly scene in the world of charities, mental health services, foster care, abused children or women, senior citizens, welfare to work programs, ok, it's an ugly scene for all the people who are in the greatest need. Nice work, politicians!

Here's a mix-tape contest my friend's blog is having. For the record, I think it's an awesome idea!

And I'm very excited for a trip home, coming soon!!! The weather is supposed to be perfect, my little brother is being shipped in from the southwest, and I'm ready for family, old friends, and vacation.

That's it for this evening.

Let's Try That Again

2009-06-12T09:50:00.001-05:00

Well, once again, my friend and I are attempting to have a kayaking adventure this weekend. This is our third and final attempt (our connection to the kayaks is moving). Her bike accident and stormy weather have gotten in the way in the past. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’ve been headachey and nauseous all week. Today I called in to work when my morning coffee made me feel sick to my stomach. Last night I stocked up on applesauce, sprite, bananas and bread. Gentle food to soothe the tummy.

Maybe, just maybe if I rest up, I’ll be ok by tomorrow. And the weather looked to be all storms this weekend as well, but now is supposed to be dry and cool, with little fluffy clouds.

I hope it all comes together.

Social Networking and a Small World After All

2009-06-05T00:14:00.003-05:00

The little girl who lived across the street from me, whose pool I used to swim in, who moved away when I was in 3rd grade, to whom I have not spoken in 20 years, found me on Facebook!

I love that!

In my mind, she was forever frozen in 80s hairstyles and little girl braids and barrettes, and here she is, a beautiful, grown woman.

I love it!

Only Time

2009-05-19T01:00:00.000-05:00

Those years don't last forever,
but then again, neither do these.

Storms of Spring and Summer

2009-05-13T23:58:00.003-05:00

I sit on the balcony. The air is warm and hangs limp. Clouds are banking, reflecting amber city light, so the night is not so dark. The first cold draft of air blows in from the southwest. The potted flowers are all nestled away, secured so the winds won’t blow them from their perch. A neighbor’s strange, little lawn-ornament, a man in a canoe, rows wildly. The leaves on the trees do a rain-dance: half-waltz, half madman’s lunge.

I sit head in hands, watchfully. Cigarette smoke wafts from somewhere downstairs, so I know I’m not the only one sitting out here on a night like this. Lightning flickers in the clouds and the thunder responds. “Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry,” fourth grade.

Today I sat with a fifth grader, who was weeping about friend problems. I remember those days. I gathered all my compassion of remembering about me and let her know that I believed her in all her misery. “Fifth grade is hard,” she said. On the inside I smiled as I saw this beautiful, dazzling child in front of me, who will be out of school in two weeks and who is well-loved by family and is filled to the brim with strength and resilience. But I remember the devastation of being singled out by a former friend in grade school. Don’t we all? So I sat with her in her tears. She’ll find a way.

It’s much easier to see from this end of things. The rain is coming down now, loud and steady. It’s making quite a racket on the window panes and air conditioner. In the morning, the grass will need mowed again, and dandelions will have sprouted, and life will have happened, despite (or because of?) the storms.

Free Time, Me Time

2009-04-29T00:31:00.003-05:00

Chicken and dumplings simmer on the stove. It’s one last “cool-weather meal” to warm heart and body on these rainy days of spring. The trees have responded with bursts of green applause.

Today’s one of those “I prayed and you answered” sort of days. It was just a simple request, uttered about lunchtime and answered not long thereafter. Not an important request, but a reminder that God is very kind, and cares about our hearts.

This weekend I took days off, and I had so many ambitious plans for my time! At some point, ambition petered out and I was just sad. My little motivational engine just couldn’t. I need people. A phone call, and hour of coffee and conversation later, all was well. I paid some visits to folks, I did some other things I needed to do… got together with people. Then Sunday was a little structured with lots of interaction and was great! Monday, off work, and again, by about 4 pm I was done being solitary and motivated, and was just bummed, downright depressed. I can’t do it! I can’t stay all day alone in my apartment getting odd jobs done! Must leave and see the world! Must walk/run/drive/interact with some other life form during the day besides my cat! I should have remembered that from earlier days of living alone in grad school. Always, always, always leave your apartment at some time of day, for some errand, no matter how banal. Very important for sanity. It’s so funny how when living with others, they always seem to be getting in the way of “getting things done”- so distracting! But the truth is, we need those distractions and will create them regardless.

Reminds me of Dostoevsky. He often has characters who forget how to interact with people and slowly go crazy, do things like murder someone. Important to remember if you live alone.

Naw, I’m having a little fun at this point. But it made me appreciate “back to work.” For some reason, when I have unlimited freedom, I find it so de-motivating. A deadline is so much more compelling than all the time in the world, and I’m not quite sure why. In the same way, having many hours of my week taken up by non-negotiable tasks makes the free hours sooo sweet, and I use them well. When that’s not the case, it’s hard to be my own taskmaster. I fritter away and then fret about my wastefulness, but I still have a hard time allowing myself to just relax, do something like read a novel or watch a movie. I always look around at everything that needs doing, or things that seem more meaningful.

But that’s that. The dumplings are done. It’s time for rest.

Easter

2009-04-11T23:18:00.002-05:00

On this Easter's eve,
Thank you, Jesus
for all the good gifts we have,
but most of all for your death,
so that we can have life.

As long as we are still living,
may we lay down everything
for the sake of bringing honor
to the name of Jesus.

Amen

Task-Task-Task Oriented Today

2009-04-09T00:07:00.004-05:00

This week I'm feeling crafty. Not in the mischief sense (that was last week, April Fools) but in the artistic, nesting sense. My creative energies are running in these directions right now:

hand beading some earrings in anticipation of when I'm "allowed" to wear the dangly type. (I forgot that I could get my ears pierced till this winter when suddenly I remembered I'm not locked into a bad experience I had as an 8-yr-old.)
new paint for the living room
new artwork/decorations for contrast with new paint in living room
on a wave of cooking Thai food... first a basil noodle dish, and then a red pepper chicken stir fry. With the International Grocery so close at hand.... mmmm mmm, tasty dishes are just a few steps away!

For some reason I really want taupe-colored walls, white trim, with contrasting artwork of corals and alizarin red. We'll see how it all turns out, but in my minds eye, I already see it, and I'm feeling restless to make it happen. I think it will make the white, wooly rug just "pop!" And my pale-celadon green couch. All the people who can't see my mind's eye are cautioning me against my paint color. Too late! Already purchased! So part of me wants to paint it to test it out. If it's a disaster, it's just a rental!

I keep getting distracted by other things though, like the springtime, friends, work and sleep, facebook, what can I say? Pathetic! :) Ah well.

Today for work, we went into a school and led 4 classroom sessions to educate students on some relationship stuff. It was actually fun. (7th grade boys and girls, can you believe it?! Fun?) But so exhausting! My feet were so tired from standing 4 hours straight, walking around, my brain so tired! I could never be a teacher! But God bless those who can and do!

A Taste of Spring

2009-03-27T14:57:00.004-05:00

Spring is here at last, in full force. It's been a really busy time for me, but the blossoms were at their peak and the gardens are free on Wednesday morning, so before work, I met up with a few folks for coffee and the gardens. (About the photos: I'm having issues with the program I use to adjust photos and it isn't letting me do ANYTHING! let alone rotate them, so the only pics I've posted are the horizontal variety that needed no adjusting. I'll figure it out on a different day.)

This Friday is a beautiful, sunny day in the 60s, forcast to be cloudy and rainy in the 50s so that's a nice change-up. I'm off work and finally catching up on EVERYTHING that had fallen behind. It's good to have a normal, quiet weekend at last.

Just the Weather and a Weekend Update

2009-03-18T23:03:00.002-05:00

It’s a quiet rainy evening here. This morning I awoke to a beautiful blossom-covered tree in my front window. Like magic- yesterday it was little twigs, this morning it was frothy white and pretty. I enjoyed my coffee on the patio…

I thought Zyrtec was supposed to be non-drowsy!? My mistake. Barely made it through my appointments today. Well, learned my lesson. No more Zyrtec for me. I’ll stick with Claratin, or my personal favorite Singulair. Yep, I’m talking allergy medicine here. I guess “Juniper” is at full throttle as allergens go? The things you learn watching the local weather.

Well, it’s going to be an interesting weekend- I agreed to accompany my Junior High girls to a conference and a sleepover... Hopefully it will be a good thing for everyone involved. At the church I've signed on as a Junior High Girls' Small Group leader. I've been at it since last fall, and the group has really progressed from "awkward, forced conversation" to a pretty committed bunch of regulars who are showing care for each other. It's fun to see the personalities come out and bloom. Only one of the regulars is going to the conference, but there might be a couple other girls who want to get plugged in.

And that’s it for our news this evening.

A Little Change of Scenery

2009-03-11T22:53:00.002-05:00

Well, my brother-in-law thought I was lonely and sad by the tone of this blog. Not really true... but maybe my creative writing mood also overlaps with a melancholy mood. Most of the time when I'm not posting it's because I'm busy with people or stuff. That means friends and fun a good portion of the time. (And I think having a rich community in our times and culture is quite a blessing).

Here it is, almost St. Pat's Day and the weather here is doing it's typical rollercoaster- 70 degrees one day and 20 the next. This year, it doesn't bother me for some reason. Normally I'm so antsy for spring I feel like a caged animal, but this year I feel calm and accepting of all the quirks- maybe it helps that I've rounded out my running gear to be more cold-weather adaptive. I've also figured out to dress for the actual temperature, not what I think the temperature "ought" to be. And those teaser 80 degree days have whetted my appetite and I'm not ready yet to feel that heat and humidity of Mid-May.

This weekend calls for a road trip. Details to come. :) Happy Spring, World!

Golden Touch

2009-03-04T23:25:00.002-06:00

Well, it's been an interesting few weeks, starting off with a virus that knocked my computer out cold (fixed by a kindly, computer friend), a dead battery that knocked my car out cold (jumped by a neighbor and replaced by a store - $), a new license from the state that somehow ended up being two through a weird little mix-up (I could explain but what's the point? In the end it was just money in the pockets of the state- $$).

All of these little things have been mediated by kindness of friends, kindness of strangers, provision of God, and the good things of life, for which I sometimes forget to express thankfulness. (How we take them for granted when they are ours: love, community, kindness, grace, needs met.)

A little tune for the evening, and then sleep.

All I Can Write Are My Meanderings

2009-02-21T00:15:00.002-06:00

I drive away from your house; it is late and I am tired. Good to see you. I look down at the fuel empty light and keep driving. There is a gas station that’s four cents a gallon cheaper further down the road. I am distracted by a phone call and wind up driving out of my way, into my old neighborhood. Just for kicks, I turn down my old road. It’s bumpy and gravelly, still torn up from construction on the highway. “My” apartment looks lived in.

I wind my way onto a different highway after filling up. The city lights are pretty and sparkling, and from this high point I can view the Arch.

I focus on my surroundings because in my heart are the sounds of some bleating refrain. I will not listen. “Whatever,” I say, “I don’t even care.” I’m so obviously miffed. I so obviously care. It wasn’t even what you did. It was what I feared it meant.

I put on some old music. Old music, old surroundings; what are you looking for, heart? What are you trying to reclaim? Is it something you lost, or was it something you were merely seeking? Nostalgia bends my memories like a prism; captures vague feelings and expands them into washes of color.

The night air is safe.

Midwinter in St. Louis

2009-01-22T00:14:00.002-06:00

The sun shines milky and bright in St. Louis wintertime. On the daily commute, I look over the hues of the highway, as city falls away into woodland fields and small town. The sky is vividly blue and the fields and trees are shades of straw and taupe.

The roads are etched in white salt from the last big freeze. On the highway, chunks of ice, left by traveling semis, tell of colder climates to the north where snow and winter have a stronger hold. Here it has been cold, but only a few flakes have come to rest.

There is a chill, but in the sunshine the air is “roll down the windows” pleasant. Even so, the trees and ground lie dormant, just as I do, waiting for something to come and awaken brighter colors, more verdant growth.

Dormant. I finish small tasks around the home: laundry, dishes, run in the brisk sunshine, put away some odds and ends; take a look at the growing pile for recycling and put it on the weekend list. Dormant, I sit on a couch, reading magazines with brightly colored pages, daydreaming about new paint for the living room, a recipe for pumpkin soup, a garden of spring lettuces that I could grow on my balcony and pluck for lunch.

In the evening, laughter and friends break into the quiet and winter is cozy and warm. The next morning, I drink my morning coffee and look out the window, daydreaming about April breezes, skirts and bare legs, walking outside without a sweater, laying in the sunshine.

A glance at the clock reminds me it's time to leave for work.

This is Sad, Is this True?

2009-01-10T12:06:00.002-06:00

Why Bananas are a Parable For Our Times

"Below the headlines about rocketing food prices and rocking governments, there lays a largely unnoticed fact: bananas are dying. The foodstuff, more heavily consumed even than rice or potatoes, has its own form of cancer. It is a fungus called Panama Disease, and it turns bananas brick-red and inedible.

There is no cure. They all die as it spreads, and it spreads quickly. Soon - in five, 10 or 30 years - the yellow creamy fruit as we know it will not exist. The story of how the banana rose and fell can be seen a strange parable about the corporations that increasingly dominate the world - and where they are leading us"...
(Click here for the full story).

This is an article I came across online! I'm not sure if things are being presented in a sensational light, but if it's true as stated, boo hoo!

Little Bits of This and That

2008-12-30T00:22:00.003-06:00

It feels so late tonight, though it is not so late. My heart was racing today, again. But I can’t resist a little more coffee than is good for me. Simple pleasures. Tomorrow, a half day, and then done, that is, until Friday.

No one is showing for their appointments. Everything is off, it’s vacation time, not “keep your appointment and show up on time” time. And so I spit out paperwork.

Today the woman who sorted our donations was fired. It seems that for years she has been pilfering among items and taking the best for herself. Well, actually, been taking the best and creating gift baskets of items and selling them. She must have quite the boutique in her home. But no more. She denies everything. Bit by bit, different folk reveal small pieces of witnessed indiscretions. The puzzle image is not a pretty one. But she will no longer be there. I wonder how abundant donations will seem in her absence? Ah, corruption. How it sneaks up upon us! (I thought you were a friend. But goodbye feels like hope.)

The air outside smells of fresh dirt and springtime. It is warm. Tonight I walked with a friend. I wore no jacket, only a scarf--hands nestled in pockets. The trees were lantern lit and Orion was clear in the sky. We heard shouts and felt threatened, but they were far away; not intended for us. We walked and the air was tangy and made me want to dance.

Sometimes I act as if my mood is some kind of moral indicator, but more often than not, it’s most pronounced influence is the weather.

It will be warm again tomorrow. (Cold front after that.)

2008-12-19T23:20:00.000-06:00

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Journey of A Thousand Miles

2008-12-10T22:59:00.009-06:00

Maybe it is love of mystery, or maybe memories of the overbearing glare of the Texas sun make me prefer the night sky to daytime. Driving at night is somehow nicer, the darkness is a thick comforter and the small glows of the other headlights are warm beacons; the street lights point the way of the road. All else is cool and darkness.

Community radio DJ brings out the most trance-like, obscure music at night, and the soundtrack takes me down distant highways, road trips into strange lands.

I think of fragrance, and it’s ability to transport. Soft floral shampoo and bath wash of warm oranges and soapy vanilla, an everyday aroma from when I first lived on my own. All of life was possibility and unknown. There were no more filters to protect me, now it was up to me to make choices and feel my way into the wide world. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. Always I remember it with a strange intensity: the sensory cues from that time are evocative of so much fear and hope all blended together in an intoxicating brew.

I arrive home to a dark place and instantly there's a cat at the ankles, demanding attention. I drop my bags and remember the damp laundry, leftover from morning. One more trek up and down stairs, one more trip to the basement dryer. Soon, I’ll shed the day like a molting lizard, one size too small, and now I've outgrown it.

I fold away the last fragment of today's responsibility, and place it in the laundry basket: testimony to accomplishment, once dirty, now clean.

What is adulthood without second mortgages and shuttling kids to practice? What is adulthood without screaming babies and first mortgages? I’ll find the answers to the questions between full time work and sending off the rent check to the landlord. I’ll find the answers over warm dinners shared with friends and meetings at deserted coffee shops, on long walks and solitary runs. I’ll find the answers in my church family, broader and wider than any nuclear-type.

Day-by-day I build upon what is, to what will be. Not having answers in hand, I do what I must: I walk by faith. When I falter, (and I do) grace carries me. I'm never alone on this strange trip.

Home Again, Home Again

2008-11-30T17:05:00.003-06:00

It was a cozy, craftsy Thanksgiving this year. My parents, sister & brother-in-law, and nephews were there. I got to see my friend Janelle. In our house, there are always lots of games. This year: board games, a little soccer in the backyard (primarily the nephews) and of course football on TV.

I brought home lots of strange little projects to complete while sitting around watching football on TV (because I could care less about football on TV). Earlier in the year, when I bought a blanket for my bed, I was disgusted that the matching pillow shams were 35 $ a piece. Seemed like a rip-off to me, so I decided to keep an eye out for interesting pillows elsewhere. I was at the World Market and I really liked the fancy, decorative table napkins from India. I decided to sew a couple together and stuff them, for homemade pillows... here's the final result, mom!

I love that Larry is in practically every picture I upload to this blog. It's like "Where's Waldo?" only easier because he isn't very cleverly hidden. Well, I was happy with the pillows, and I also (with help from my mom and dad) fixed a broken lamp and two formerly unwearable pairs of pants. How exciting!

When I left on Sunday, it was a wintry wonderland outside. In my mind, I was composing Haiku as I drove down a few treacherous miles of highway.

Cautionary Tale

Cars, a train, through snow
weave tracks: black, safe lines. In drifts
stranded car, a warning.

The tale has a happy ending though, after about 45 minutes of driving the snow turned to rain and then cleared off all together. And now I'm home again, my other home.

Body Language: Think About It

2008-11-16T23:14:00.020-06:00

"Charred Body found Inside Vacant Home."

"Body Found by County Roadside."

When does a human become a “body?” Both of these grim statements are quotes from my local newsfeed this Sunday evening. I was thinking how depressing it is to become a body. It implies a death of sorts. We hear talk of bodies in crime reports and on the local news, in obituaries and unsolved mysteries.

Pop culture also frequently refers to bodies, usually the living, breathing sort. When bodies are referred to in pop culture, it is a way of discussing the limbs and shape of a person, detached from the personality and soul of the person- also known as “objectifying” people.

I wonder if it would improve our appreciation of one another and our feelings towards ourselves if we could refer to one another differently. Our words could affirm the soul and personality in conjunction with the body- holistically- as persons. After all, body won't ever be separated from person and soul until the day we die.

And when life's sweet fable ends,
Soul and body part like friends;
No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;
A kiss, a sigh, and so away.
-Richard Crashaw, in his poem Temperance (1652)

Sweet Dreams!

2008-11-10T10:58:00.010-06:00

Dream interpretation has always been a hobby of mine, if such a thing could be considered a hobby.

Last night's edition:

I dreamt I was at Target and had a cart-full of clothes. I realized I had a shirt I had purchased previously that I needed to return. It had stretched ridiculously in the wash and was no longer wearable. I took it to the counter without a receipt and they were able to look up my credit card transaction and give me the full price back. I was excited. When I went back to my cart, money in hand, I looked through the items in it, and though they were nice, they were not mine. I realized that another lady accidentally took my cart and left hers. She took my cart with all the things I had selected in it!

Interpretation:

In trying to focus on the past and settle old scores, don't lose sight of the present, or new opportunities could be lost.

Pod. Fruit. Plant.

2008-10-31T23:59:00.001-05:00

Plant grasps fruit tightly.

For a time- then it must release.

Fruit grasps seed tightly.

For a time- then it must release.

Life is holding on and letting go.

This is growth.

Lord, help me know

when to hold on, and when to let go.

The Days Slip Away Like...

2008-10-16T21:09:00.004-05:00

Thursday already! The combination of leaving a little late and the shorter days had me driving home at sunset tonight. It was lovely to see the clear, autumn sky and all the headlights rounding those concrete curves, and the city traffic lights twinkling merrily at twilight. The arch was partially illuminated against the dark sky.

Sometimes I forget the wonder of living in the city, but when I'm approaching a bridge just as a Union Pacific train chugs across, I think of my young nephews and how excited they would be. I wish I had more "exploring" time... I think I could zip downtown in five minutes from my current location.

I google-searched “days slip away like”

and here were the top results:

Days slip away like leaves.

My days slip away like a shadow; I wither away like grass.

I let the uncharted days slip away like they should have, and then tonight, just tonight I decided that I couldn’t go on not writing.

If you are reading this, don’t let your summer days slip away like I did.

Or maybe just living instead of watching the days slip away like they don’t mean anything.

School days slip away like a greased weasel now.

But good days slip away like trout you can't catch, a flash of silver and they're gone.

Alas, the days slip away like water in our hands and we discover that our resolve has dissolved, and we have failed to make good on any of those resolutions.

The calendar on his computer informs him that the days slip away like those rubbery children toys filled with water.

And without him, the days slip away like molasses.

Days slip away like a cloud drifting over the ocean, Quietly unnoticed, muted above the sea.

Some days slip away like early morning mist being burned off by the late morning sun.

The days slip away like water into roots.

This One's For My Mama

2008-10-11T17:14:00.003-05:00

Because she wanted me to take the Flokati rug:

Here it is. The cat, of course, loves it's natural woolliness... perfect for cozy fall and winter. Happy mom?

Rainy Tuesday Morning

2008-10-07T10:46:00.001-05:00

Rain and coffee fragrance the air this morning. Outside my window is an explosion of gray and green... one of the rainiest years in St. Louis history, no wonder autumn hasn’t set in yet. The plants retain their bright bits, though a few hints of orange and yellow are starting to show up. It will probably be a lovely fall.

I’m struggling lately. I’m struggling in knowing how to keep going in the mundane stress of it all, the stress of same problems, different day. My work days are a blur of people and their problems. That’s what I’m there for, a sounding board and support for problems. The administration is changing. There’s a hope for change, that deficiencies will be addressed. There are fears that the old guard will continue to make the same mistakes, continue to ignore the same issues.

I’m praying right now. I’m praying for work and for my own life. I feel so stuck, so trapped. It’s not that I’m really trapped, it’s just that I’m powerless to make the changes I would like to see. So if that’s the case, either God will move me on, or he will help me stay here (and be changed in the process). I’ve been begging God to help me. I think that’s an ok place to be.

It's not that I'm not ok in this place; it's just that it's hard. And the changes I would like to see are not that clients stop having problems. I would just like to be personally moving and changing more towards my goals right now. If I felt my own life was not mired in deep mud, maybe I’d have more to offer clients. But the funny thing is I think I might be more supportive, compassionate and understanding even while I’m in the middle of my own frustrations. Because I understand what it is to have no answers. I understand that it’s not necessarily spiritual deficiency to struggle. In fact, it’s part of the path. Accept and cry out, or deny and refuse comfort in this moment.

I’ve had a friend ask “Have you prayed about it? Then why don’t you have peace?” Sounds simple, ridiculously simple. I don’t think it’s that simple. I don’t think it’s “push the prayer button and be flooded with peaceful, easy feelings.” Like a vending machine. But mysteriously, there is an underlying support and comfort in crying out to God. And at various moments, I do feel his Spirit meet me, nourish me. But there’s still the wrestling. And maybe that’s just my nature, to wrestle. But there it is.

Theme: work, weird, outdoor infestation

2008-09-22T22:56:00.008-05:00

I feel like I’ve been going crazy at work lately. I don’t know if it’s me making the work crazy, or vice versa, but either way....

*************

Last Friday I was in a little group with some kids and a coworker on the playground. The coworker Brenda* is a new employee, she’s kind of like a “Zen Mama”- super sweet, and she could be your mom, plus way into peaceful concepts such as releasing bugs found inside to the outdoors and all kinds of other mellow things like; “mindfulness,” “yoga,” “gardening,” “journal-making” and “watercolor painting.” I, on the other hand, am into “oil-painting,” “running,” “road-rage,” and “killing” outdoor bugs that make their way inside.

Well, on this fine morning, we were outside, and a small child became afraid of a giant cockroach making it’s way across their play area. The child pointed and ran. I grabbed an iron shovel from the gardening shed and began to bang it along the gravel and playground equipment trying to kill the disease- ridden, bold little creature, coming out in the full light of the sun.

Well, the little weasel got away. I asked sweet Brenda if she was bothered by the shovel-banging debacle, and she calmly shared, “No, I figure the cockroaches were living before we got here and will probably outlive us as well..."

She's probably right, but I wish this particular cockroach wouldn't.

****************

Also- Margie*, (life-long B------ville resident) who answers the phone in the afternoons, has lately been bringing all her lawn ornaments from home into work, and “decorating” our parking lot, landscaping and entryway. It started off with a bronze butterfly by the door and a few wooden birds in the bush. But slowly, its been lawn-ornament infestation, complete with ceramic snake (that frightened a small child) and plaster bear and moose heads poking up from the ground, other critters planted using metal stakes: strange things; strange, strange things.

Most folks at work see it this way: If you want to decorate your lawn at home, feel free. Isn’t the point, to make it “homey?” But this is a business! (One employee sneakily tossed the ceramic snake in the dumpster.)

I transferred the plaster bear-head into a E.’s metal file cabinet. She thought it was funny and placed it atop as a decoration. She was laughing with another coworker Rachel* and said “Someone put a tacky bear-head in my filing cabinet!”
Rachel, (another lifetime resident of B----ville), said “Oh is it a lawn ornament?”
E, said “Yeah, so tacky! Who puts a bear head in their yard?!
Rachel said “Oh, I have one just like it.”
E. laughed, “Really?!”
Rachel, (serious), “Yeah, really.”

!!!

But enough about work...

Today's Forcast

2008-09-11T07:51:00.003-05:00

My family has always been obsessed with the weather. In our house, that manifested by silence throughout the living room as they caught the weather at 5:23 pm or 6:23 or 10:23 pm for the evening news. (We didn't have cable growing up.)

I was never that into it, except that I do love weather websites. I love looking on the radar before going on a run to see exactly where precipitation is falling. My favorite weather website is Wunderground. Just type in your zip code. All kinds of interesting information on there. This photo was also on their weather photo album! (Click on the photo for a link to the photographer's blog).

Deepest, Darkest Secret

2008-09-09T23:13:00.001-05:00

What makes you decide to spill your deepest, darkest secret? Do you have a deepest, darkest secret? It’s a phrase I jokingly have thrown out there among friends, for lack of a better thing to say. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secret!” When I say that I’m just kidding, and expect to hear nothing, or nothing serious.

But when you think of the world being what it is, people certainly must have secrets, both deep and dark (and in my job I’m privy to hear many) and there are many more waiting to be told, I’m sure.

Some people are very free with their secrets and are not very secretive at all. Others are cautious. And how many secrets are known to none but the holder and anyone else involved? How many people have unconfessed murders, robberies, other crimes? How about if it was “an accident?” Hit and run? Abused? Abusive? I just wonder what burdens we carry? Do we think about them often? As Suzanne Bates said to me once, “The more I talk to people, I’m just not shocked anymore. People say they are ‘shocked’ but nothing shocks me anymore. Sometimes I’m sad, or disappointed, or upset, but not shocked.”

What is hidden in the depths of the heart?

A New Year, An Old Promise

2008-09-05T23:54:00.002-05:00

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Road-Weary Randomness

2008-09-01T23:35:00.002-05:00

Back from my wanderings, and almost thirty.

***

(some parade pics)The sirens were loud!

Everyone in town with a flashing light, a tractor or a muddy truck was invited to be a part of the parade.

Wheee!

I went home and saw the family. Saw some garage sales. Saw some small town parade. Saw some friends. It was good to see folks. Fun to read bedtime stories to the nephews. Good to go for walks with family. Picked some fresh fruit and veggies from the produce section of the back yard. All in all, nice visit.

***

Random weird, hypothetical conversation tonight: Which would be worse, to be terminally ill and all alone, or to be terminally ill with a husband and small children? To me, situation # 2 is infinitely worse, but my friend pointed out situation # 1 would be pretty awful too. We changed the subject. Impossible to judge from this standpoint (tongue in cheek).

***

Too many hours in the car, driving, watching the sunset, bring strange thoughts to mind, but it also makes music sound better! As well as the sound of my own singing!

***

I think we have to ask God to give us forgiveness, for ourselves, and also to give to others when they wrong us. I don’t think it comes naturally to us, ever. But bitterness sucks!

***

I don’t want to become too cynical. Thinking of how it’s kind of a sad thing when one becomes all hardened and cynical, even though the naive and hopeful seem a little more ridiculous, they also have something special, fresh eyes or something. Also, it seems like there’s a greater capacity to love in a less cynical state. How do we become cynical or reverse the process?

***

Ah well, another week!

Home

2008-08-29T00:01:00.002-05:00

As a small child I remember sitting next to the speaker as the reel to reel tape (yes, reel to reel) played Simon and Garfunkel. One of my favorite songs was "Home with Al" and at one point, I cried for the poor singer who just wanted to be home with (his best friend) Al and instead he was somewhere else.

Anyway, my parents laughed at me and gently corrected me, "Home with Al" was "Homeward Bound," which is also what I am, tomorrow.

Hurray! I'm thankful for the love of family...

Tonight I'll sing my songs again,
I'll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.

The New Pad!

2008-08-21T20:31:00.005-05:00

Here's some pictures of the new place, to satisfy the curiosity of those out of state, and those who just haven't been over yet!

Living Room (as seen from dining room)

Dining Room / Computer Room

I seem to be destined for small kitchens... on the plus side, everything is within reach!

The built-in cabinets are a plus compared to my last apartment!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz~ and the little door on the right...

Opens to the Sunroom /Art Studio /Storage space!

My Strong Friend

2008-08-17T18:20:00.002-05:00

She was a shot-put thrower in middle school.

One time I needed help carrying up a bag of cat litter (40 lbs.) with my groceries to my apartment. "No problem," she said. She threw the bag over her shoulder and shared that she used to carry two 50 lb. sacks of feed at a time, on the farm.

She was a power-lifter in high school.

The biggest amount she ever dead-lifted was 275 lbs.

Even without training, she could kick my butt.

But she never has and she doesn't ever threaten to! What a nice friend / bodyguard.

Seven Strange Facts Unearthed While Moving

2008-07-21T22:25:00.002-05:00

Alright, Angela, you Meme’r- here you go.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Since the story of the day is that I’m moving... I think today’s little factoids are going to be things unearthed while packing.... not to mention that I’m procrastinating on some packing right now.

1. Something about being artsy is seeing endless possibilities in things. Not to mention, I know the best thing to do with many objects (recycle, take to Goodwill, reduce, reuse, etc) but that all takes time and organization. Anyway what that all adds up to is piles and piles of junk stashed away in boxes, closets, under the bed. I’m trying to weed things out. A “less-is-more” friend has been helping me let things go. She noticed I have a lot of collections.
- movie ticket stubs (maybe every movie and playI’ve ever seen)
-bottle caps
-stamps
- postcards
-flattened pennies (from those tourist machines)
-foreign coins
-one fashion magazine from every year of my life
-old makeup (for Halloween!)
-dress-up clothes (i.e. out of style, bizarre, or thematic clothing, saved for costume-y events)
- old pieces of ribbon and string
-old canvases
-pieces of wood (to paint on)
-coffee cans (the metal kind)
-sample size soaps and shampoos
-pens (lots and lots and lots of pens)
-empty cardboard boxes and bubble wrap (for wrapping gifts, etc)
-empty jars and plastic containers (art projects or maybe recycle?)
-old computers (how to dispose of properly?!)
-pretty much everything I’ve ever written, from journal entries to short stories from elementary school
-every old card and gift ever given me (practically!- Sentimental value, right?)

My friend has been helping me since I seem to have trouble tossing anything with as much life left in it as a paperclip or old barrette. Her reminder that none of it will go with me is helpful!

2. In some kind of prophetic foreshadowing, I had a bit part in the play “Meet Me in St. Louis” in high school. (That’s St. Louey)

3. In high school the (1972?) Volvo I drove had the bad habit of slipping out of park into reverse. When I was delivering papers at 4 a.m. one morning, it kicked into reverse while I was running a paper up to a lady’s porch. It chugged straight back and hit a policeman’s house. I’ve had trouble with the police ever since. ;)

4. My brother and I used to set up a pretend “Double Dare” course in our backyard in Texas.

5. On the plane to the Congo, I sat next to a Congolese rock-star named Serge. He even had groupies to meet him and the band at the airport!

6. I got a scholarship in high school from a sorority and forgot to cash the check. I found it when I graduated from college and wrote to them apologizing my forgetfulness. They were so happy to find out what had happened to the “missing?” money (new treasurer), they reissued the check for grad school!

7. I just got promoted at work to “Behavior Specialist!”

Ok. I meme Tina, my mom- (just kidding Momma- I know you don't blog), Heidi V. and Neil. I don’t think anyone else reads this blog that also blogs! Ok, but if you are ever online again, I also nominate you- Laura and Meg! That's all for now, folks!

Back from Africa

2008-07-10T19:08:00.002-05:00

The Congo was amazing... How to describe? I loved the people. We stayed in the city of Kishasa most of the time. The people were incredible in their graciousness, their welcome, their hospitality. I noticed that the culture is more communal than the States, and there seemed to be a greater willingness to offer a helping hand to one another.

There is obviously a breakdown in the government, from war and in the supporting infrastructures that is so oppressive and difficult to live in. Imagine many potholes in the road, 6 inches deep, some that stretch for the length of a house! Imagine 11 million people and only 1 million cars, the rest trying to get rides through public transport, or the enterprising "taxi" (we counted the people on one Volkswagon bus and estimated 35). We complain about the roads here! We complain about the traffic, the healthcare. Let me just say, things can and do get much much worse!

Even so, life was everywhere, vibrant and struggling, but still rising against the pressures. I'm so thankful that the country has entered a time of relative peace and stability. Our new friend, and driver, Benjamin, shared with me his struggles in finding employment after his job at DHL was cut. He had loved his job, now he was trying to operate a small grocery to make enough money to get by. His car is broken down, but there is no money to fix it. Official employment is only 10%, but truthfully, it is a city of entrepreneurs, everyone working hard, and seeking ways to survive, either through vending in the street, picking food and selling it, breaking rocks into gravel (I would see young boys doing this). I long to see justice and even a decent chance at a life for these beautiful people. The world is a very big place.

My friend (who left a day later than me) shared that some of the military were hassling her and some missionaries at the airport, demanding money, but fortunately she was traveling with a liaison whose entire role in the trip to the airport was to field such demands, and he was able to placate the military men and get her and the missionaries safely off without having to offer bribes or pay fines. Despite that difficult ending, everyone was so gracious and friendly to us, even strangers on the street, and I felt very safe in the city, safer than I sometimes feel in St. Louis!

It was neat to see missionaries in the context they are serving in! It was wonderful to eat with and talk to the Congolese in their own homes and it was difficult to meet the orphan children, and see the horrible conditions they simply accept.

God help us!

My heart loves and aches for the people of Africa... we are all one Body... If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

And We're Off!!!

2008-06-24T21:39:00.002-05:00

I'm leaving for the Congo tomorrow. That's Wednesday, for any would-be burglars out there (watch out for the guard cat!).

Anyway, there might be a few updates during the trip posted on this blog. So check it out, if you are so inclined.

Also, I decided to move at the end of the month. A few things pushing me that way... the construction on my doorstep here, the rising rent rate here,

the cool landlords there, the Botanical Garden being across the street there, and the commute there,

all factored in... not to mention the spaciousness and free laundry in basement there!

I Think I've Lost My Mind!

2008-06-21T09:34:00.004-05:00

In the last two weeks:

• Monday (2 weeks ago):Lost my apartment keys. Looked everywhere for them. They should be inside my apartment! Can’t find!!!

• Monday: Called landlord. They told me they had copy. Went to pick them up.

• Tuesday: Couldn’t get mail due to lost keys. Went to post office. They said go to landlord.
Landlord said they would replace the lock.

• Tuesday: Put a note on the mailbox, and got mail delivered to step. Awaiting a $100 gift card in the mail and nervous that someone might take it. :(

• Wednesday: Got a check for $600 in mail, tax stimulus money, transferring from one account to another. Put it in pile of papers.

• Thursday: Came home- my power was shut off. Called power company. They came out, and turned it back on. Told me that my meter is not the meter that my bills have been coming from. Goodbye super-cheap bills.

• Thursday: Got my new lease in the mail. Noticed the wall in the bathroom felt very warm. Storms all night, woke me up. Room felt very warm..

• Friday: Overslept. (Set alarm wrong after power outage.) Only going in for a half-day anyway. Called in to work. Got stuff done around house.

• Friday: Landlord replaced mailbox lock and key. Thank you! Sense of relief.

• Friday: Called landlord about hot wall. Very hot, kind of squishy. Said they would send out a plumber today. Didn’t happen that I saw..

• Friday: Looking for that $600 check. Couldn’t find it anywhere. Prayed. Still couldn’t find. Looked in trash on impulse. I had thrown it away. Rescued from trash.

• Friday: Went downtown with friend, Tanya. Walked all over, looked at floodwaters, spun in circles under Arch, went to fountains, walked around a bit. Came back. My keys (car key, new apartment key and new mailbox key) had fallen out of my pocket. Missing!!!

• Agh!

• Walked and retraced our steps. Did a sweeping search under the arch with park ranger flashlight. Couldn’t find keys. Park Ranger gave me lost and found number to call.

• Went to the Millenium Motel, and called friend, Neil. Neil and roommate Jonathan came and picked us up.

• Broke into my own apartment. Wall hot and radiating heat and humidity. Paint bubbling with water seeping through in bathroom. Found spare key.

• Went back to arch, picked up my car.

• Wall did not explode in night. I will call landlord’s emergency maintenance line.

I’m leaving the country next Wednesday for a mission trip to the Congo...... All these things, though frustrating, freaky and making me feel scattered and like I’m spending all my energy putting out small fires, are not devastating and could be worse. I wonder if some of this is spiritual attack as I prepare for this trip? Please be in prayer for me! Thank you

Title Unknown

2008-06-16T23:22:00.007-05:00

It’s a cool, breezy evening in the city. The near-full moon shines down on the gravel path in the park. The path is marked by the footfall of two pairs of feet; disturbed by the murmuring of two voices, laughing and reflecting in turn.

Anticipation and anxiety, flip sides of the same coin. It’s name is “Expectation”- heads or tails? You call it. Lists are made of things to be packed, purchased or acquired, completed, and then, when the time comes; departure, flight.

The preparations are strange ones, purchasing socks and underwear for orphans of unknown sizes. Learning basic greetings in French. Transferring toiletries to 3 ounce bottles. Reading up on the customs and culture of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Prayer. Trusting God to provide. Trusting God to lead. Exciting.

In our normal routine, we think we have to do something to make changes. We think that every day just follows the other, like paperclips linked together in a mundane, little chain. We sit at our office desks and dread returning phone calls. And it is true that we can invite change. Even so, we grow attached to our paperclip chains, we idly wish for something new, without anxiety, without the unknown. And then change comes, in her own time, an earthquake, shaking everything, nothing left unmoved. We wish for change to come in comfortable volumes, and with outcomes that we control. Can we take it all in stride, the changes, the sameness, the everyday with so much beyond us?

The path through the park, so commonplace by day, is mysterious in the moonlight. It is partially illuminated, with shadows of leafy trees wavering and bending, obscuring and ornamenting the ground on which we walk. Our moon-shadows stretch like giraffes behind us, distinct, swaying with our footsteps. We hug and depart, and our cars bear us back to the lamp-lit places we call home.

The Waters of Oblivion

2008-06-11T00:21:00.003-05:00

Would you erase all the pain you have known, (but consequently the lessons you learned with it) if you were given the chance? Or put differently, given the choice, would you choose to be naive and happy or sad and wise? Would you rather know the truth and have suffered for it, or not know and live happily in delusions? Or on a more concrete level, if you had the option to have an IQ of 60, and not to grasp many things that other adults take for granted, but you were pleasant and happy, would you pick that over having an IQ of 140, and being a genius who saw many problems in the world and was greatly troubled by them?

I love the phrase “Waters of Oblivion.” To me, it sounds somewhat romantic and enticing, yet ominous at the same time. The “Waters of Oblivion” are originally from Greek mythology, in which the river “Lethe” runs through Hades, and its waters cause the drinker to forget the past. In the Greek mythology, people were reincarnated, and the wise were taught to seek instead, the Spring of Memory, so they could learn from their past lives in the new life, and be wiser than the average soul.

Sometimes I think of drug and alcohol abuse as waters of oblivion that people willingly drink of, to forget, for a time, the past, the present, and any uncomfortable emotions that accompany those thoughts. It’s a sort of living forgetfulness. The movie, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” explores the theme of forgetting one’s pain creatively and with some insight.

I don’t believe we get multiple lives to learn from, but I’m grateful that within the lives we have, we are given the capacity to learn from the past. Take this cup...

Welcome to My Blah-g!

2008-06-04T23:14:00.002-05:00

Yep, it’s been quiet around here lately... maybe it’s the spring-to-summer weather that lures me outside so much, or maybe I just haven’t felt like writing.

Anyway here are the events(?) of note:

* Went to three different stores (two Walgreens and one Walmart) before finding Ivarest today. Praise God, Walmart had one dented box left on the shelf. (Poison ivy!)

* Today at work we had a refresher course on how to handle an irate client.

* Congo trip update: a health insurance company has pledged $5000 and is challenging their parent corporation to match the amount to put towards starting another self-sustaining health clinic!!! Total start-up costs for one clinic... about $10,000~ wow.

* I’m feeling a little anxious/excited as I think about the Congo. I’ve had more opportunities to talk about it with folks at work. I’m not sure what to expect, but I can’t go in “my” strength.

* went home for Dad’s birthday in Indiana. Saw entire immediate family. To quote my nephew, “Those were fun days.” I also got to catch up with the twins.

* A coworker asked me why I’ve been so happy the last few weeks. I didn’t know I’d been so happy the last few weeks. She said I had, and said, “Good attitude, that’s nice.” That is encouraging to hear since the last month or so, Anna and I have been meeting to pray weekly about work and all things related.

* This weekend, Sister, Bro-in-Law and Nephews come to St. Louis.

*This weekend we are having my five year GRAD SCHOOL reunion! Wow~ has it been that long?

The Way of Love

2008-05-21T22:26:00.002-05:00

"A friend loves at all times..." Proverbs 17:17 a (NIV)

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.

When I was an infant at my mother's breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.

We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

1 Corinthians 13 (MSG)

Book Review

2008-05-16T17:57:00.002-05:00

Well, I wrote a book review for Dr. James Spiegel's book "Gum, Geckos, and God: A Family's Adventure in Space, Time and Faith" for the online magazine Catapult. If you feel like it, check it out!

Visual Brain Trumps Verbal Brain

2008-05-13T00:04:00.006-05:00

As a person who loves the arts, I find that I tend to swing back and forth between my verbal and more visual/non-verbal ways of thinking. I've always felt that there are times that words are my more natural expression, and other times that words just can't do justice, for whatever reason, and color on color or listening to music seems more natural.

Right now, words are a struggle. I have nothing to say, or perhaps, the things I have to say can't stand on their own. Whatever the case may be, my verbal brain is tired. Times like these, journals and blogs lie latent.

Here's a lovely tune- Killing the Blues, Alison Krauss and Robert Plant.

Don't You Let Them Take the Fight Outta You

2008-05-02T23:00:00.002-05:00

My friend and I were talking tonight, and I found myself quoting this song:

"There's always someone younger,
someone with more hunger,
Don't you let them take the fight outta you."

So here's the video- Ben Harper- "Fight Outta You"

Grieving the Darkness

2008-04-19T10:34:00.006-05:00

We approached the back door, and three silhouettes stepped out into the night rain. They sized us up, and my friend called out, “It’s me.” They laughed, relieved and let us into their home. Was it a home?

Reclining chairs were lined around an over-sized TV, with the Halo 3 mainscreen flashing blue light on the scene. On the counter, chips, empty wrappers, dirty dishes, cat food, socks. Two huge dogs rushed out to greet us. On the kitchen floor sat another TV, unplugged, next to a dog dish, and a large bag of garbage, spilling out indiscriminately. Two cats filled the house with a musky odor and the air was smoky and damp. The walls were stained with dark water marks and dirt and the doors of the kitchen cabinets were left open at random. An empty kleenex box overflowed with stale cigarette butts. Disorder. A caseload of frozen dinners boxes, some eaten, sat on the floor.

Sitting on the couches, were a girl and two guys. All had a vacant, glazed expression in their eyes, beer cans in their hands, and a pipe to be passed. One recognized me. I asked him what he had been up to; it had been years since I’d seen him. He was taller, scruffier. He said something about lawyer fees, referring vaguely to some trouble with the law.

One guy, who had lost his job this week and his thumb at his previous industrial job, got out a guitar. He began to quietly strum with his index finger, and for a moment, the sights and the sounds of despair were veiled under a beautiful melody. “When I am alone I’ll be my own best friend.” He apologetically shared that this was his best song, and the others encouraged him. It was good. In the lull after the song, I made my exit, letting them know I’d been on my way home anyway, just stopping in.

I had agreed to go along, for a few moments, on my way home from visiting another friend. His house was an entirely different scene. It was a beautiful, brick home in an established neighborhood, with landscaping lights and fresh flowers. Inside, his parents, exhausted from the stresses of their days, had ordered take out Chinese food. The house was spotless, with all the finest things, in pristine condition. But it was a home with it's own quiet tragedies, of addiction and divorce proceedings, and a three-year old grandson troubled by the strain of his parent's separation.

My work brings me face to face with many sadnesses, families on the brink of destruction, often due to the willful, oppressive sin of one partner against another. I see children who are hurt by those who claim to love them. Many children are used as tools of manipulation and weapons against ex-spouses. I sometimes see teenagers who are lost, unseen and think no one cares, who just try to check out for awhile and see what in the world can make them feel better for a few moments.

We all try to go our own way, but every brick of every Tower of Babel we build, to lift us out of dependence on God, is just an exercise in despair. The beauties of life, the springtime clouds and flowers are there. But when I look at us, at what we do to one another, and what we do to ourselves, all in the name of desire, I grieve. Everyday I watch lives self-destruct.

But wait.

There is another side to that. Every day, I also watch lives redeemed. I watch people pulled from impossible places, and inexplicably, moving forward. I watch love given where it is not deserved. I also see parents who have such a love for their children, they are willing to make great sacrifices to care for them. I see children, growing up, who come to realize that just because they didn't "feel" their parents were loving them at the time, now they see that so many of the actions their parents took were in love, and to protect and care for them, not to harm them.

Isn’t that the deeper story for all of us? We tried to go our own way. It brought us nothing, it was a trap, we wanted to give up. But Love was given, and it was not deserved. Where are you, God? I know you are here. How do I love people in the darkness? Teach me.

Rest in Me, Little Ones

2008-04-15T12:19:00.002-05:00

Psalm 23

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,

3 he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.

4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, ^[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

Playing Ketchup

2008-04-07T22:56:00.002-05:00

I just got back from coffee with a friend. It was nice to see one another, nice to talk, and good to encourage one another. My eyes are tired now, and my back is sore. It’s almost time to call it a night. Today was a wonderful day of warm breezes and sun.

I made every excuse possible to be outside at work today, eating lunch outside and even starting the assembling of a “hot-wheels” type tractor for the playground (a job I was ill-equipped to complete). I decided each lovely day this spring, I will go outside and put in a few minutes on that little tractor, till it’s drive-able.

I’m trying to wrap my mind around this trip to the Congo. I just watched a short video clip sharing about people in the eastern and central portions of the country, dealing with the aftermath of the war. It’s so sad, so tragic. It is so far away from my bedroom here in St. Louis. But I guess part of the purpose of this trip is to bring it a little closer.

This weekend I started a new venture in painting portraits. It was challenging in a good way, and fun. I'm happy that my artistic muscles have not completely atrophied into nothingness. There’s still "a ways to go" on this portrait. If it turns out cool, maybe I’ll offer to paint portraits to interested parties.

I’ve put the impossible goal upon myself to learn French before I go to the Congo. Ha! Keep dreaming. But a very kind soul has offered to give me some rudimentary lessons over coffee. Soon, I will get on that, soon. Au revoir!

"...And Sometimes the Saving of Dead Bodies..."

2008-03-18T22:26:00.002-05:00

Whew, that line (I used to title this post) gave me chills. Here's an article to explain why I am not, and never will fully be... the crazy cat lady. Thank you, God!

He's Been Moving Me Beside Strange Waters

2008-03-11T23:25:00.006-05:00

Joanna Verburg, "Campello Olive Trees for Guilio"

As I look over the list of immunizations: Yellow Fever, Typhoid, Meningitis, Hep A and B, and of course Malaria medication, I think to myself... It’s a good thing I can put that old passport to work- a year before it expires. Opportunity knocks. Listen.

My creative mind is quiet. I think of the painting I will start after I’ve envisioned it perfectly, that is, sometime later. I think of the book I’m reading, left on the chair, tented, reading interrupted by a ringing telephone.

I think of the spring-like weather that I anticipate like a little, purple crocus, peeking out from the shade. Tomorrow I shall stretch my legs gladly at the park, a celebration of everything moving, warm and alive! I will run just to feel the wind on my bare arms and cheeks without a chill. I will run to feel my blood pulsing in my temples and chest in a happy rhythm of cooperation.

Life is caught in a cross current, one can focus on movement or stagnation. The choice is in the eye of the beholder.

Note to Self

2008-02-28T22:35:00.002-06:00

I really should file my taxes while it's still cold and miserable outside.

How Long Must We Sing This Song?

2008-02-25T23:35:00.001-06:00

I had a delightful conversation with a friend today...

We were chuckling together about how we are with God about our struggles.

“If only I could understand!”

“If only this problem were solved!”

We both know that we are to be dependent on God.

She wants understanding + dependency.
I want solutions + dependency.

We say, “Of course, Lord, I want to depend on you but Agh! Fix this! And it will be so much better, for both of us, see? And I just can’t take it if this doesn’t change!!!!!!! HELP!”

But the reason we laughed is that the struggles are the MEANS of dependency–

we have to depend when we don’t understand, when we can’t solve our problems. We have no choice. I see our struggle as a bit like laying on a table, having an MRI or, at the dentist with plaster forms of your teeth being set in your mouth.

In the wait, if you panic, it’s nearly torture- the tube becomes a confining deathtrap, the plaster and tools in your mouth will surely choke you! “I’m gonna die like this!” That claustrophobia is panic. But the truth is, it’s not forever and if you can trust that, and just stay calm... the moment passes.

And I’m thankful that God doesn’t delight in torturing us, though that is how discipline feels as it is occurring... God is constantly stretching our faith and dependence on him.

I think of Abraham... how long are we willing to wait on the Lord?

There I Was, In the Congo

2008-02-23T15:36:00.002-06:00

Alright! I'm doing it, I'm in!

Our church is sending a mission trip to the Democratic Republic of the Congo this summer...
Lord willing, I will be there.

Photo Courtesy of National Geographic, photo of the day

A Slippery Little Fish Called Life

2008-02-19T10:39:00.003-06:00

You live your life in the clouds,

in the pages of a book

or on television screens,

echoed in the voices of actors,

in html text and emails.

I live my life on restless waters,

questing and never finding.

Life passes by, slippery, it eludes our grasp

and if we seize the day,

so what?

If the day fades away into evening shadow,

so what?

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might...

2008-02-10T22:30:00.001-06:00

There's always a reason not to hope.

When you want something, you may not get it.

When that something appears within reach, it could just as well slip beyond your grasp- devastating.

When you finally have what you want, you very well could lose it.

Or it could be taken from you, or just change until it is no longer what you had envisioned.

You may just get bored with it and realize it never really made you happy.

Sigh. The truth is that our hopes are really far too big for the things and people of this world. We know there has to be more...

"Build your hopes on things eternal..."

This is from a journal entry, April 2006. I am not without hope tonight. Even so, I know that can be jolted by a phone call, a particularly discouraging day, sometimes by seemingly small events.

From a conversation, November 2007: "Be thankful. Don't just focus on the next thing, the next area you are uncertain of, or the future you don't know. Be thankful for right now, and how God has provided today for your daily needs and for where you are. Be thankful for how he has gotten you through. Recognize what you receive as God tending to your heart, and be thankful."

Of Shadow and Illumination

2008-01-28T23:26:00.000-06:00

Ten billion little stars, twinkle in the night sky. They shine with all the fire they can muster, and does the light reach anyone? Does any parched, little desert canyon feel a sparkle in the night? If no one is there to see the light, does it matter? And if it does or doesn’t, what of it?

The stars appear close to one another. Clusters dance in constellations, but the closeness is the illusion created by distance. Light years separate us. We look from a fixed point and watch them move and track their movements- and it is true- they move, but we are also moving, and all changes. Nothing that is will ever be again. All is change; every moment is lost even as it is born. We mourn.

Yet even the newness bears echoes of the past. We begin to rely upon the resemblance of new to old. All change in the universe starts to disintegrate into patterns, ever expanding. The radiating movement blurs before us, meaning is lost in the vastness of the universe. Is there anything, upon which I can focus? Any turning-point, upon which I can fix my eyes?

If I am just one of ten-billion stars in the universe and it is up to me to make sense of it all, to make my shining worthwhile, then just snuff this light out, I am nothing new. I cannot create meaning.

Perhaps, if we all work together we can create something beautiful, valuable. Not one small light, but many. But who orchestrates the direction of our shared luminosity? Or are we just a chaotic stream of atoms crashing together, sometimes forming chemical bonds, and sometimes breaking them?

Is my bright star really just a flashbulb of the paparazzi, going off in the night, flaring up and dying out? My moment passes. Someone else will either create something from the remnants or discard them altogether. Can this be?

In the distance, there is something greater than the flashbulbs, brighter than the stars- the Creator of the Universe and all that is in it. The creator of ten-billion humans who just want to express themselves in one way or another- who just want to be seen and to be heard.

The Maker of all things has chosen to make me, and to make me thus. Why? What are you doing here- has it any value? Do I dare question? I bow my head.

How Quickly I Forget

2008-01-22T22:16:00.000-06:00

My heart seems to have dropped into my stomach lately. Too many roller-coasters? Not enough solid ground. All around feels foggy and dark, and though I know the voice I follow, I struggle to see where it leads. What do I do?

A little accident with the curb on Saturday turned into nail-biting waiting the rest of this week, waiting to see if the other guy (who unwittingly ran me off the road) was gonna “bail” on me or if he was honest (he was and decided to settle through the insurance company), waiting on insurance, waiting on a new steel rim, which has to be shipped from somewhere not here.

Strange means of grace have come to carry me through- rides from Ralph to work, a M.L.K. march and celebration that I happened into with dear Anna, a nice time of chat and catch up with the other Heidi, (within eyeshot but not earshot of Angela who seemed to have the same idea of catch up on the same night at the same place). I have friends who will pray with me and give words to vague longings in my heart: longings for justice, hope, understanding, courage, love.

Some days it’s just too much caffeine, too little progress, feeling burdened by a vague sense of uncertainty. Even so, all the evidence I have ever been given, in the long run, adds up to one conclusion: Trust in the Lord with all your heart. In the fog, on the roller-coaster, awaiting response, I question, and I fear. My own understanding wants to prepare for the worst. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways acknowledge him and he will make your path straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

Why do I fear? He certainly carries me through.

PAINT IT BLACK

2008-01-09T23:57:00.000-06:00

Today was a day of sunshine with milky clouds- warm enough to roll the windows down, cold enough to wear a coat. It was the kind of day I daydream about in August.

I convinced my colleague not to black out Valentine's Day on her planner with a permanent marker. I suggested to her that it might imply “issues” to the parents of kids she sees, and necessitate weirdly personal conversations with people who would prefer to see us in medically neutral terms- as practitioners of health and well-being. She reluctantly agreed, and instead outlined with black around the whole month of February. Where do we get the time? Two hyphenated words: NO-SHOW.

NO SHOW is when clients schedule an appointment and don’t come. It’s a common enough occurrence. Why does the dentist calls you with a reminder of your appointment? NO-SHOWS.

Reminder calls from your counselor are, in general, not a good idea- too much guilt attached. It’s too similar to a guilt trip from mom, (“Honey, did you call them back and ask if they got your application?”) and it doesn’t encourage people to take responsibility for their own issues. So we don’t do it. If it’s really important to you, you’ll come. Well, you’ll at least call to reschedule once you realize you’ve missed.

NO-SHOWS are so common that three of us made a chart to track them. Actually, we don’t track the actual NO-SHOWS, we track our ability to make predictions. Using our intuitions, and the client’s track records, we guess whether or not “iffy” clients will be coming. Right now I’m on a good streak. My percentage of accuracy (in the last 2 months) is 78 %- compare that with Valentine girl’s current accuracy rating of 29 %.

Today: two NO-SHOWS. That’s why we had time to be coloring in days in our appointment books. I was actually daydreaming about taking vacation time in April and trying to guess when would be the first week of sunshine and actual warmth. My colleague was coloring with black. Tough day at the office...

2008-01-03T18:51:00.000-06:00

Just a Few Notes:

I hope your Christmas was good- mine was ~peaceful~...
How often does that happen? Work didn't even feel so stressful upon return. (That can't possibly last).

Well, down in Phoenix, where my brother is, and I spent three days, the weather was just as warm as he had been promised... Up in the mountains with all the rest of the family, it was just as cold as round here (though drier and more picturesque!)

Here are a few snapshots.

Me and a cactus and a mountain- to prove I was there at Sedona.

Doug on a little mountain over ASU- his school.

The foggy mountain in the background is Camelback- can you make out the Camel's head and back? - My brother and I climbed it. To me it was very strenuous, but to give you a proper picture, there were also nine and ten year old kids scampering up the boulders and rails!

My feet over a look-out point somewhere on the camel's head. (Not very far up at all!) See the tiny people on the trail under my feet? Those aren't ants, they are people! That's where I came from!

The rest of the family that went to Sedona- my parents, brother, me, my Grandpa and Aunt Glenna. Aunt Glenna and I shared a room and talked till late several nights. It was fun to catch up. She's the middle sister in my dad's family, and I am in mine. The last morning, my brother and I chilled with my Grandpa and talked. It was nice.

More Sedona- Sliding Rock- in the summertime you can swim here! I don't advise it in the winter, do you see the icicles on the right?

And if you are the praying sort, please lift up the families of my coworkers Aubrey and Yvonne-both had deaths in the family on the week between Christmas and New Years.

My friend, Leandra will be around for a few days- she's a good pal- that Simon and Garfunkel song "Old Friends" makes me think of her and her twin sister.

I think I'm going to keep New Years Resolutions simple this year- maybe something about washing the dishes before they start to pile in the sink. Manageable and I would love to see it happen...

2007-12-23T23:02:00.000-06:00

Off to a warmer climate and family awaits...

Merry Christmas to all-

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.

-An Irish blessing

2007-12-09T23:16:00.000-06:00

MEDITATION

Relax, it is not up to you.
When the time is right, all will be as it should.
In the meantime, stare down Despair-- look her in the eyes.
She’s not so strong as she would like you to think.
Hope defiantly. Live in expectation and thankfulness.
And every step, every word, every gesture: a prayer.

2007-11-28T22:05:00.000-06:00

THE CASE OF THE MISSING LATENT-IMAGE PEN

So some of you may already know I'm taking a test next week, a licensure exam that involves diagnosing mental illness and treatment plans... they start with a little story about a person with issues and then ask questions such as : pick all the good choices below (and list 12 options) and then when you select your answers, choose-your-own-adventure-style, they will uncover clues of where to go next, so that as the pieces unfold for 10 little case studies, you've taken your test, and either passed or failed. That would be Thursday.

Well, it's such a weird test format (and such and expensive test to take!) I ordered a pricey study guide from the makers of the test- and they sent it to me. Problem: it did not include the promised, and necessary latent-image pen. What is a latent image pen? I'm so glad you asked! See, I'm not quite clear on it either, except that where the answers turn up there are little hash marks, kind of like something you need to have 3-d glasses to see through, and I tried scratching at them with a quarter to reveal the answer beneath, but I guess that isn't sufficient. So my practice test is useless without this little tool.

Well, I emailed the helpful folks in the testing business (they ask you to contact in writing as they get several hundred calls a day) and heard nothing. So I sent them a vaguely threatening email saying if I didn't hear back soon I would be forced to return the test and stop payment on my credit card and I got back a very sweet phone call, apparently they had sent out a pen already at my first request and she was calling to check the address.

The address was right. Hmmm. I went home, and checked the mailbox. Nope. I investigated my front step. The front step of my apartment building tends to be a piling place for junk mail- like grocery store ads and coupons. No latent-image pen. However, buried in the pile, I did find a credit card statement for the guy at the address next door. Hmmm. Went over and checked that apartment front step. (Left him his bill, hopefully not too late.) The step was a little neater than mine, but no latent-image pen. Where did it go? Lost in USPS limbo? I suppose I'll call the sweet lady back tomorrow and ask them to try one more time. I think it will get here soon enough that all will be well.

I'm very curious to, at last, see this elusive latent-image pen. Until then, this mystery remains unsolved...

2007-11-20T00:41:00.000-06:00

Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream...

I dreamed of a beautiful, towering tree- strong and leafy-green. On closer inspection, I saw that someone had carved away a ring of bark around the circumference of the trunk. I was sad because I knew disease and parasites would enter, and I knew the tree would die. I was sad.

Why would someone do this? And how little it took to topple the mighty oak.

2007-11-07T09:08:00.000-06:00

Help from a Stranger

I had a thought-provoking conversation with Anne M. and Tanya the other day, about helping strangers who approach for money, bus tickets, etc. I’m not trying to raise the question here of what/whether to give. But Anne said, “If it were me asking, I would want someone to give.” Simple, but to the point. I think sometimes my work, that is so “giving,” can make me hardened. I see the needs over and over, I know the background stories, which are real, and sometimes I know the scams. It’s easy to become distrustful and to assume the worst. Especially because I know some of the resources available, I become skeptical of people who don’t appear to be using them. That’s kind of sad because I, of all people, should know that sometimes the resources are complicated to access. I don’t know why we go that way, but I know I’m not the only person at my workplace who fights that mentality at times.

I wanted to think about times I have been helped by a stranger. There have been many, many, to the extent that my hope and expectation when asking for help, is that a stranger will be kind and will not abuse or take advantage of my vulnerability.

One time that stands out in my mind, was back in Texas. It was a flash flood, and I was stranded in the car with my mom and a friend. The road ahead of us was covered in a deluge of water, and a car that had tried to pass through the intersection ahead was stalled in water up to the side mirrors. Flashing lights of a police blockade were ahead, and cars boxed us in, front and behind. So we waited in traffic, stranded, as the rain continued to pound around us. After waiting an hour or so, we needed to use the bathroom and my mom decided to knock on a door in the neighborhood to ask if we could park the car on their lawn and walk to her friend Ruby’s house, who lived less than a mile away. The woman was so kind. She said, “Certainly park the car! But don’t walk in this rain! Come in!” She gave us warm blankets and gingersnaps and we waited out the rain in her cozy home. I always think of that time when I eat gingersnaps, even now.

I wonder if anyone else has a story of a stranger helping them, that they are willing to share?

2007-11-05T20:44:00.000-06:00

"LUCKY ME"

This morning I awoke at 4:30 am. Call it aftereffects of daylight savings (though I never get up this early). I drifted in and out of consciousness until six, and decided to get up, and get in an early morning run. I couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful morning. By 6:30 it was already in the mid-fifties outside. The trees hung with red leaves against a crystal, blue sky. The air was still and humid.

I ran, surrounded by misty, morning air and sunbeams. By 10 am, it all crashed down around me in shards. I was sooooo tired all day. “That’s why I don’t do this everyday,” I reminded myself, even though my tri-athlete friend was “proud of me.” She was also supportive, walking for a mid-afternoon break down to the local bread company from work, to get a spot of coffee. To spare the environment, I always bring my mug for a refill. The worker couldn’t find the “refill” button on the cash-register, and gave me my drink for free. Was it my lucky day?

By mid afternoon, a cold-front had swept in with northwesterly winds, and my clients arrived. I met with them, focused my energies, and as soon as they left, departed. I took an hour of sick time to leave early at the end of the day- drove home, exhausted, only to find an email that my early meeting for tomorrow morning has been postponed. Is it my lucky day?

I didn’t feel like going to the grocery store so I ate frozen pizza, freshly sliced mango and some garden tomatoes in olive oil. (Thanks mom!) I watched t.v. till I could stomach it no longer. I imagined myself working on a painting and dawdled and made a couple phone calls instead. It’s ok. I think life is so much better when I’m not compelled to “earn my keep” by doing enough or being enough. I am accepted by God, as is, frozen pizza and all. Is it my lucky day? Nah. Everyday is. Thank you, God.

2007-10-22T23:35:00.000-05:00

MOMMA's BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA

Well, my trip to Indiana was a lovely one! It was so fun to see family and friends. I got some good nephew time and twin-time and it was great that both of the twins were home! No, the nephews are not twins. I also got to see my college-roomie and her cute little girl! Oh, did I mention we celebrated my mom's birthday?

Nephew # 1 makes his favorite silly face!

Nephew # 2, intent upon his cheese.

I hit the state at the peak of it's fall color! On my way home, I was snapping blurry shots of gorgeous leaves through raindrops on the windshield, and I thought, rather than veer into a semi, I should get off the main drag for a bit. I wandered down some country roads in Putnam County and took pictures to my heart's content! Then back onto the main drag because I wanted to get home before Tuesday.

I feel festive for the season now, even if we get two yellow leaves and ten-thousand brown ones here. But maybe "the change" will come soon.

And now for another week...

2007-10-14T22:32:00.000-05:00

THE WAY THINGS ARE

The air is starting to hang with the sweet scent of decaying leaves. The weather outside is mild and dry. To celebrate fall, I hiked on a limestone trail for miles and miles today. (And it felt like a few more miles than it was, perhaps). The conversation was good. We stopped for pizza and ice cream on the way back...some much-needed victuals for the journey!

I look back on the last week. I made my little speech at the conference. We threw in lots of activities to break up the time, and it seemed to go over well for the majority, (though a few walked out towards the beginning... not what they were expecting?) We got some positive comments, made a few positive contacts, and most happily, completed the task. I’m so grateful to be done with it- and I felt that the gracious prayers of friends and family prevented me from having a panicky or nervous feeling the whole day, even up in front of the audience. So, thank you!

I feel like I’ve been getting into conflict with friends and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just that the time is ripe, or maybe I’m just opening my big mouth too much lately. I don’t know. I don’t think any of it is fatal though, so if you are a part of it- hopefully we are on better footing again!

Maybe I just need to get away and clear my head. I’m heading home and the highway is definitely calling me. I’m looking forward to taking my little car on an extended journey. I’m looking forward to my homecoming. That is, coming home. It is actually the weekend for my college homecoming and I plan not to attend one activity, no not one! I will see plenty of folks as is.

Work is feeling a bit hopeful... administrators are making steps, noting what is happening around there, action is being taken at last, long after I had given up. It shows me that I gave up too soon, and that I must continue to pray. It’s a hard task not to get drawn into large-scale venting sessions and the general attitude of “burnout” that can prevail. It’s easier and at the moment can seem more fun to just complain with others, complete with impersonations and stories of everything WRONG with the place. In some ways, to be positive is to be isolated. But I must stay focused on my reason for being there.

Lately I have felt lacking in focus- like my time is a series of disjointed conversations, each flowing into the other but not connecting and not leading anywhere. It will be good to go home. Home, with my thoughts escaping; home, with my music playing...

2007-10-04T23:49:00.000-05:00

GLOSSOPHOBIA... a.k.a. The Fear of Public Speaking

Oh, I do hate public speaking... How did I get roped into this? Next Tuesday a colleague and I are presenting before an audience of professionals "in the field" (maximum of 150 people) on "Activities for Building Self Esteem!" In Kids! The only speeches I can remember that went really well both happened while I was a student.

Both times I had pulled an all-nighter to finish the project I was doing. Both times I was too tired to be nervous, and in a sleepy delirium, got up front and started telling my stories with the fervency of a true believer.

Part of the problem this time, is I’m already skeptical before I even start. No activity in and of itself is going to “build a kid’s self-esteem!” It’s a process over time, and maybe, just maybe if you build a relationship with a kid, you might help build their self-confidence. The relationship is really important, though. If they don’t believe you, it doesn’t matter what you say. Well, I guess I have to say that when I’m up there... on stage, at the podium, adjust the mike, ahem... ha ha- just trying to psych myself out.

Well, in no particular order, here some of the things that may go wrong:

Word-Stoppage: While reading a line from the notes, I start a sentence. Suddenly, my voice catches in my throat. It’s like Ariel against the Sea Witch, or one of those dreams where your legs don't work... I’m speechless. Milder versions are All-Choked-Up and Freudian Slip.

The Lone Dissenter: Things might be going along fairly well, and this person stands with a question. Usually the question attacks the entire premise of the speech. Maybe he would say “Kids need lower self-esteems. They are spoiled. That’s their problem. (I hate kids.)” and I find myself explaining why the topic is a topic at all, which everyone else thought was important enough to come to learn more about and now are bored as I repeat what they already know.

The Equipment Malfunction: Everyone gets silent as I cue the video, lights, music, whatever and nothing happens. Awkward silence. Five-minute delay and the crowd is getting antsy. Someone on staff has to be called and they aren’t in the room. I start telling stand-up comedy jokes and get a pie thrown at me. (All this is likely except for the pie).

The Rambler: Another attack disguised as a question. This person raises their hand. You call on them and they stand up and launch into a fifteen-minute rambling soliloquy about some strange incident that happened with a kid at their workplace, with, their speculations about why it happened and a hidden sermon on the dangers of {whatever}. At the front, we stand with smiles frozen on our faces and many listeners, after shifting awkwardly in their chairs awhile, take the opportunity to leave the room for a smoke break. The Rambler may disguise a sermonette with a fake-question,"What do you think about that?" at the end.

The Visibly Sweaty Armpit: My face, calm, smiley. My armpits, leaky faucets. Drip. Drip. Drip.

And the one that already happened:

Wrong handout printed up and put in the notebooks printed by the official printers and already on site. Oops, that was my rough draft. Definitely not the notes. heh heh heh. Oh, well, as least we caught it before we got there. "Class, rip out the papers in your notebook and replace them with these. Moving on..."

2007-09-25T22:15:00.000-05:00

In Anticipation...

Looking forward to the season opener of the only TV show I admit to watching! Here's a little quiz to pass the time...

What NBC "The Office" character are you? Your Result: Pam Beesly You are the person everyone considers a friend, you are sweet and a good listener, but you also creative and love to have fun and are always up for a good practical joke. You work at a job you hate but donÃ¢ï¿½ï¿½t leave because you donÃ¢ï¿½ï¿½t really know what you want out of life. You have spent too much time following the opinions of others and are beginning to learn how to think for yourself. Did I wake up this morning thinking I'd be throwing together a bird funeral? You never can tell what your day here is gonna turn into
Toby Flenderson
Jim Halpert
Kelly Kapoor
Michael Scott
Ryan Howard
Dwight Kurt Schrute
Angela Martin
What NBC "The Office" character are you? See All Our Quizzes

2007-09-22T13:31:00.000-05:00

"And often enough, when we think we are protecting ourselves, we are struggling against our rescuer."

-from Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (p. 154)

2007-09-18T23:51:00.000-05:00

Ramblings from the World of Fitness:
Forcast: Hold ups, delays, the usual.

Sunday, in a burst of enthusiasm, I went for my first little run since July 1st. I was scared of re-injury, (plantar faciitis) but it felt so free and wonderful... just to move unhampered by exercise equipment, and quicker than a walking pace. I had that "3:55 p.m. on a school-day feeling." My heart thudded in a "I haven't worked so hard in a while and it feels great" kind of way. I wanted to keep going and going, but I stopped after a mile and a half, expecting my foot to cramp up afterwards a bit, which it did. I responded with ice and stretching.

Alright, but enough about that. It bothered me all day on Monday, even after doing everything "right," so that bothered me even more. (Happily the next day it was back to normal). Today (what is it Tuesday, Wednesday?) I decided a safer way to enjoy the outdoors would be my crummy, old rollerblades. I don't mean any disrespect but I got the inexpensive, off-brand version back in, what, 1993?, so the plastic is starting to wear. I replaced the wheels and bearings a month or so ago (out of desperation for an "outlet"), and it made a world of difference in moveability, but the plastic clasps that hold the entire things on my foot are starting to give, and the left middle clasp is completely broken and dangles like a useless limb, that I tuck in so it doesn't trip me.

And actually, all of that is fine by me, fairly-functional is "functional enough" for my third string workout equipment. I never quite understand people that buy professional grade, top of the line stuff for hobbies they spend about five minutes a year on. (I'm not thinking of anyone in particular- and I'm not talking about You!- that's different! heh heh) On the other hand, other people have raised the point that I don't really like to plunk down money for anything, I consider a "big purchase" -over $50- even things I will use for years, such as a TV. There is probably a balance there.

Ha ha, so random rollerblading side note: My 7th grade math teacher, caught up in the rollerblading frenzy that was sweeping the nation at the time, quit teaching a month into the school year to start her own business. Her business would bring rollerblades, pads and helmets to schools to rent out to gym classes so the gym teachers could build this exciting, cutting-edge new sport into the curriculum (Guess the year!!!) Well, she even came back for a visit con rollerblades, to our middle school gym class. Two factors she didn't calculate into the equation: ~1. How disgusting and sweaty junior high boys get in her nice equipment, that by 5th period gym class, all the pads and skates are really unsavory- can't imagine a whole year of use~ and ~2. How short-lived trendy fads usually are.~ I don't know what happened to her business, but I imagine it was rather short-lived as well.

But I digress. I was making my way on my rollerblades, working the knots out of my muscles and enjoying the breeze. I looked down in irritation at my left skate, wondering why it was being so sluggish. I realized the bearing on the top wheel was loosening, so I hunkered down in the grass to tighten things up, a couple miles away from my car. Then I realized, that somewhere along the bike path, I had deposited an entire wheel, bearings and all!!! Huh! That was sad! I tightened the nut on the first wheel with my fingernail and determined that I will go ahead and put a couple dollars, not into new wheels, but into an entire new pair of skates. (I was feeling a little disgruntled at the thought of spending the money, when I thought, where better to get archaic exercise equipment that has never been used than... Ebay! Ha! HA! Pay full price? ME? NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!)

2007-09-11T22:24:00.000-05:00

NOW ENTERING... my favorite time of year.

I love this cool snap. I had coffee with a friend in the morning and a walk in warm, crisp air, framed by the brilliant blue of the sky.

I came home this evening to a note on my door from a considerate construction worker- my water will be shut off tomorrow morning from 8 - 10 am +. I must say, the forewarning was a kindness. I feel as if I'm getting to know the "Missouri Water" folks, as I drive past them working on a demolition site down the road, everyday. Good people.

I guess that means I will shower tonight rather than in the morning. I guess that means I will prep my coffee pot with water tonight as well. Thank you Missouri Water. You are good people.

I'm excited- I think my foot injury (plantar fasciitus) is healing, which means running ~coming soon to a neighborhood near me~ again. That means I need to go buy new running shoes, because the doc informed me my last pair will not do. Something about overpronation and stability, blah blah blah. Ah well! I'll give it a week before I try.

Last night, I painted. Something about the cool air and open windows says "PAINT!" It felt great, after a late-ish day at work.

Books I am currently reading: "Gilead" by Marilynne Robinson, "Painting in the Dark" by Paul Thorson, and "Hidden Art" by Edith Schaeffer. I'm pretty sure I used to know Paul Thorson's son. Now how often do you pick up a book and recognize the characters in it as people you used to know? It's a small, small world.

2007-09-04T22:43:00.000-05:00

WHAT IS YOUR PATRONUS?

I finally finished reading Harry Potter 7 (at midnight last night). Here's a fun little quiz to celebrate! Post your result- (warning- my first try got me a creepy destroying dragon that I didn't want so I 'doctored' my results a bit!) I guess if you haven't been reading Harry Potter this won't make much sense to you. Bear with me! :)

2007-08-28T22:54:00.000-05:00

"Contemporary society preaches this ideal of individualized equality because it needs human atoms, each one the same to make them function in a mass aggregation, smoothly, without friction, all obeying the same commands, yet everybody being convinced he is following his own desires. Just as modern mass production requires the standardization of commodities, so the social process requires the standardization of humans, and this standardization is called 'equality...' Equality today means sameness rather than oneness."
- Erich Fromm

"Beneath the surface of my life I think maybe a kind of purposefulness was working itself out in spite of me. So much of who all of us are seems to go on down there- the dreams we have, the impulses, the hunches, the changes of mood. Often the decisions we think we make on the spur of the moment have been years in the making and plans that we suddenly change were plans that we secretly abandoned long before."
-Frederick Buechner

2007-08-22T00:06:00.000-05:00

CHICAGO, IN SO MANY WORDS...

When I found out the interstate was going to be shut down over the weekend in my neighborhood, I decided to skip town. Tanya and I headed for Chicago.

We stayed with some hospitable friends of Tanya's (DJ and family), which really cut down on costs. Here's a picture of the two of us, delighted, after our land-locked existence, to see a waterfront!

The seagulls kind of reminded me of "The Birds."

Tanya was thrilled to see the "Dog Beach."

Neil was headed south from his vacation in the Upper Penninsula and met up with us in the Windy City for some Chicago Style pizza and hang-out. We were walking towards the "Air and Boat Show" over lake Michigan, (and caught glimpses) when we got caught in a downpour, which necessitated a shopping trip for a jacket for me. We hit some fun thrift stores and played around.

Wet!

Neil, in the middle of saying something, I can't remember what:

The famous air show- its a bird, it's a plane, no it's...

A Nalgene bottle?!

Great catch Tanya.We also wandered around the Indian district and got some food.

Sunday we met up with Lana,

former roommate, and ate excellent Thai food at "Thai Classic Restaurant." Yummy.

The weather was abnormally cool and rainy, which was pretty refreshing after the St. Louis heat and humidity.

We had lots of fun and did lots of stuff the whole time which I'm not going to get into because it's too monotonous to make a list. But it did involve two cups of coffee a day and finding free parking everyday. Whoo-hoo!

The Cardinals and Cubs game was rained out. Not that we had tickets or anything.

2007-08-09T22:31:00.000-05:00

OUT WITH THE OLD...

how the '96 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme looked prior to damage

The other side... ewww, not pretty.

CRUNCH~

IN WITH THE NEW!

a 2002 Nissan Altima...

leather interior, moon-roof, AIR CONDITIONING, YAH!
Definitely an upgrade!

2007-07-30T17:23:00.000-05:00

YAY! I TOTALLED MY CAR!

No sarcasm, I'm serious! This is good news. It's good news because over the last few weeks I've become convinced that my old Cutlass Supreme was coming to the end of it's glory days.

In little ways she started to let me know, "I'm tired." It was in the squeal of the belt as I parallel parked, in the air conditioner that suddenly stopped working (after being recharged) in the gas mileage that was gradually drifting lower and lower, and in the odometer that read 171,774.

Well, God bless the kind gentleman who thought he could make a blind left turn, and didn't wait for the green arrow. I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me- but in the end it comes down to his fault.

So the good news: my lovely Oldsmobile goes out with a bang, no painful decisions about life support and repairs, no drawn-out attempts to sell her, and a'car shopping we will go!

2007-07-22T23:46:00.000-05:00

"PENNIES FROM HEAVEN"

...Is my favorite card game. It's a form of canasta. My friends from college, Heather and Tom came to visit this weekend. They were two original members of "The Euchre Group" in college but "Pennies" has far outranked Euchre for thrills and sheer complexity (as much as cards can thrill).

It starts off with taking a pile of cards off the top of the deck (made from four decks shuffled together) for the person to your left. If you happen to pick up the correct number of cards (24), you get 100 bonus points! My favorite moment is later in the game, when you get to pick up your "pennies," a mysterious, reserve stack waiting in front of you. In my mind, I hear the sound of a slot machine or a Mario brothers game, when you find a coin, {Bling! Bling! Bling!} as you leaf through the cards and find wilds, sevens, and red threes awaiting.

Problem: we needed a fourth. That's shorthand for, "This is a four-person game and we have three players." I don't have many card-playing friends around here. Maybe this is in part, because there is much more to do around here than in rural Indiana. (In large part!)

Well, I was pondering what to do about it. I thought about many people I knew. I racked my brain to think of people who mentioned enjoying card games. (Not many). I knew several folks who seemed like possibilities, but all were busy or didn't really want to play some complex, new card game with people they had never met. Saturday afternoon, I prayed for a fourth. I know, there are certainly more worthy things to pray about. But I asked God to provide a fourth.

Well, Sunday, we went to church and ran into Jen. Jen is a good card player, and she has the right balance of competitiveness and just-for-fun-ness. Saturday, Jen was busy. Sunday she was not. Not to mention she's played a lot of cards so she can catch on to new games pretty quickly. I invited Jen to join us, and she agreed. As we talked about the game, (a very complicated thing; a full game takes 2-3 hours as you earn 20,000 points!) Jen said, "It sounds a lot like "Hand and Foot." (or is that hoof and mouth?)

"Pennies" and "Hand and Foot" turned out to be two variations on the same game. Last weekend, while Jen was vacationing with her in-laws, her mother-in-law taught Jen and Cliff, her husband, "Hand and Foot" or essentially, the game we were playing. Apparently the women in the retirement community in Arizona enjoy a good game of cards as much as I do. God did provide a fourth. How about that?

(And Heather, Tom and I had a great visit catching up and hanging out! We did a lot more than just sit around and play cards. But we sure liked sitting around playing cards.)

2007-07-17T00:41:00.001-05:00

A CELEBRATION OF BEING A GROWN-UP

Well, sometimes it seems like adolescence is such a glorified state in our society that we forget the joy and honor in being an adult. God forbid we ever grow up or grow old. Maybe these statements won't reflect on your younger days, but thinking of a younger me, and other teens that continue to be in my life, here's a compilation of a few happy truths I have stumbled into and hope to live in my adulthood.

In honor of an email about my ten-year high school reunion:

Let the reign of EGOCENTRISM end!
Inside every head is an exisitence every bit as intricate and complex as my own.

It can be gratifying and rewarding to serve others, and not just to receive.

I can know my limits and I don't have to push them in order to prove myself.

I can talk to others without being wrapped up in my image or trying to control what they think of me. I don't need to be preoccupied with fitting in or standing out.

I don't have to surround myself with people who look, think and act just like me. Variety is good.

For most drama, I can sleep on it and may have more perspective tomorrow. It probably isn't the end of the world.

Some of those risks I kind of want to take can be deeply destructive. It's not the end of the world to be a little cautious.

This probably isn't "the last chance I will ever have to..." whatever.

Everyone feels like a freak sometimes.

It's ok to tell people "no."

I can give myself a chance to grow and learn new things. I don't need to let fear prevent me from enjoying activities and situations in which I'm not skilled. (Because I don't have to be the best, or even very good, to be fine.)

Any other thoughts?

2007-07-04T00:12:00.000-05:00

MANY HANDS, ONE BODY

I asked you if you cared...

...and you called me and invited me to go hiking.
You met me for breakfast and lingered over coffee, even missing your class, just because you wanted to stay.

I asked you if you cared and you showed me a magnificent mansion with a stone pool, with fountains cascading, and you said, let's swim by the light of the moon. Then we danced until our feet curled up and could dance no more.

We talked and you stammered, and it was awkward in a nice way, because I knew it mattered to you.

I asked if you cared and you took me to the fireworks. You drove me down a street for a front seat view across a glistening river. The road shuddered beneath us as the grand finale exploded, and you gave me a wink and asked me how I liked it.

You gave me a basket for the kids at the shelter, with cupcakes, string cheese and sparklers. We celebrated freedom and I pushed you on the swing, and you told me you loved me. Then you asked me to push you higher. And because I cared, I did.

2007-06-25T23:36:00.000-05:00

"OPERATION 'FALSE ALARM'

OBJECTIVES: To succeed where others have failed-- plan the operation in advance--'like a murder.'

PREPARATION: Scope out the facilities. We must know where each possible target is located! Upstairs is preferable to downstairs-- fewer potential witnesses to the actual deed.

Is there a cashier-free zone?

...unless downstairs out of sight is possible...

This week, begin observing for possible locations.

I spoke with (name deleted)- she will be here Sunday and Monday."

-Hand scrawled note found in old journal, dating from sometime mid-summer, 1998

2007-06-25T22:59:00.000-05:00

"Trends and anti-conformity trends;
show me purity...

and I'm sure we can capitalize on it." -August 2, 1998

I hate using friends as a marketing tool. In my opinion, to do things like host a "party" and have people over, only to guilt them into buying expensive things they don't want or need... totally reprehensible.

(Now some who would differ in opinion on this topic, include my lovely sister, who points out, it's fun to buy things you don't need, and maybe you do want them. Plus you earn money and get free gifts, and maybe the quality is such that you can't find it in the mall.) Fine. But it's not my thing.

I guess, growing up in our lovely, commercial society, I have grown skeptical of all the endless marketing. In fact, the main reason I do the work I do now, is that I didn't want to go into the art world and end up in advertising, as it is the most common way to make a buck with an art degree. I hate the idea of using creativity to sell people one more thing they don't want or need. Well, this is my anti-PPP post. That's pay-per-post, to those unfamiliar with it. I looked into it out of curiosity.

They will pay you, per post, if you use your personal blog to promote products *(maximum of three per day, please). I scanned the list of products to see if there were any I'd be able to promote in good conscience, (i.e. I actually love the product). I thought, oh, If I'd ever been there, I would certainly promote the cafes and shops of Melbourne, Australia! But it turns out that before you can promote any of the "opportunities" on the list, you have to promote the service, PPP. That's seven dollars in your pocket, man! A small price for my soul, thank you very much!

Heh, heh, heh, I guess I'm being a little melodramatic here. But friends, I have opted out of subjecting you to you random advertisements interjected between postings- I think we have to deal with enough of that in a day as is.

I guess, if you would like to use your writing to promote products and make some cash, feel free. It's your soul. :)

2007-06-13T22:48:00.000-05:00

Which Animal Are You?

Find out with this simple quiz!

2007-06-13T01:28:00.000-05:00

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU ASK OF ME?

I know the calling, but I wrestle.

I know what I must do.

Surrender.

Sacrifice.

Yield.

How can I say no? After all you have done (everything) how can I withhold?

I want this one thing for myself. Maybe in a year or so, I will be ready to relinquish, after I am bored and welcome change. (Maybe it will be easy then.)

How can I hold back from YOU?

But you gave it to me, so why can’t I just keep it awhile. Why do you take me to difficult places?

How can I possibly protest given the circumstances? In my mind, I want it your way. It is so clearly good. But my heart is not ready. Pride. My labor (in vain?). My ideas.

And what if nothing as good ever comes again? What if the well is all dried up? What proof will I have? Can’t I build something up first, and give from that? Why the firstfruits?

Yet of course it must be the first and best that is given. Of course you have all the power in the universe and the power to replenish my meager wells of resource. Of course I can trust you as the one who has provided all that I have.

I know the calling, but I wrestle.

2007-06-04T22:34:00.000-05:00

WEBS of WORDS

Well, if you think the English language is tangled enough before we "first practice to deceive" check out this thesaurus, that organizes words in webs- if you are a visual-type, you might like it!

2007-05-30T23:55:00.000-05:00

WILD-CARD WEDNESDAY: To which future will I wake up tomorrow?

Great trip, but I felt like I was exhausted the whole time. Part of it may have been that I engineered about three weekend trips into five days. (One in Indy, one at home, and the other at the lakehouse, up north).

After my visits and the long car-drive back to STL, just as I was pulling off the interstate into my familiar neighborhood, I started to hear a squealing noise that seemed related to the motion of my car. The squeal was strangely familiar, yet distinctly horrific. What was it? Too tired to figure it out, I stumbled inside with the only luggage necessary to brush my teeth and hop into bed, and vowed to look into it, come morning.

In the morning, I drove my car around the block. Yep, still that awful screeching. A neighbor walking his dog did a double-take at my car, and then covered his ears. The pup began to howl. This was not good. I couldn’t come to any action plan, my brain was still too foggy from the drive.

After some staring at the ceiling, thinking about thinking about it, I called my faithful shop. Love those guys. They told me, “Not likely we’ll get it in today.” I said, “I’ll drop it off tomorrow.”(I was already running late and my carpool would be there any minute.) At work, it dawned on me: power-steering fluid. The sound was that of a car with low power-steering fluid.

The next morning (today) I hopped out of bed and made my way over to my friendly, neighborhood AutoZone. I purchased the fluid and filled ‘er up. All is well, right?
I called the shop, “Nevermind!”
I called my carpool. “See you in 20 minutes,” I said, “I can drive today.”

I picked up my colleague and hopped onto the interstate. As soon as I merge left, I feel something change in my car: suddenly, a quick shimmy left has become a slow and laborious yanking of the steering wheel. This is not so good. I get off the interstate and take my coworker back home. He picks up his car and meets me at the shop. I drop my car off. Sigh.

They tell me, we may not get it in today, but we’ll do our best.
If they do, all is well, I go to work, get stuff done, meet with kids and call it a day.
If they don’t, I get a free-day off work tomorrow.
What does the future hold?

2007-05-23T11:50:00.001-05:00

GETTING BACK TO MY HOOSIER ROOTS!

Well, I'm gearing up for a little Memorial Day travel. That's right, going back home to Indiana, to see relatives and friends. Now Indiana friends who read this, you may find this hard to believe, but here in STL, hoosier is actually a mildly derogatory term, similar in spirit to "white trash." (Not to offend anyone!)

My brother, Doug, surprised my parents last night by driving in from Arizona, and he will be there too. That is always fun. Plus, I'll get plenty of nephew-time, and will have fun hanging with my sister at her place, and joke around with my B-I-L (that's brother-in-law).

The photo is from the Indy 500, where a couple family members will be going, for the first time in our family history. I won't be going, though I tried to win a radio station contest here for four complimentary tickets. I guess I'll just have to console myself on the jet-ski at Scott's lakehouse.

It makes it hard to go to work today... in my heart, I'm halfway out the door already. Hopefully I won't get a speeding ticket on my way there!

2007-05-17T22:19:00.001-05:00

WHAT IS THE CAPITAL OF VERMONT?

FACT: I thought the season finale for "The Office" was pretty good...

Honestly I think I usually like it when things don't work out perfectly for "key" players, romantic tension and frustration seems more interesting and, alas, more typical, in my experience! But I felt it was handled well...

I like the new hire. I think they've stirred up enough drama, by the way things were handled, to cover another season.

And now reruns, so that Thursday evenings can again be spent in the great outdoors! Yes!