the choice we keep making

i sat today in the sun, on my beach (3rd ave, of course), in a stripey old beach chair in a new white bathing suit, with my ipod on, cucumber water cold next to me and "the great divorce" in my hands. there was a tiny breeze. two tiny blonde kids playing in the water ahead. a warm sun just pouring down. i felt perfect, perfect, perfect. i get bored of the idea of perfection a lot of times, because i think that when theres nothing to solve, no light and dark contrasts, no challenge, no ache, its just.... bland. but today's perfection, mixed with early morning prayer with the roomies, meeting holly downtown, working a tiny bit on church stuff, going to bargain barn and buying an amazing old couch and two non matching arm chairs, and riding my bike around town doing errands in 70 degree weather, was full of flavor. it was soaked up. it was right. it was perfect in its everyday ordinary-ness.

"the great divorce" is about heaven and hell and its gnarly. i began reading it like 3 years ago, maybe, and havent finished it. its weird, its less than 200 pages and its taken forever to get through. mostly due to my ADD-book thing i have. but, the central theme so far (in 80 pages) is about heaven and hell and how when we have chosen one, all the other parts of life and death become stages of one or the other... cs says

"But what, you ask, of earth? Earth, I think, will not be found by anyone to be in the end a very distinct place. I think earth, if chosen instead of Heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region in Hell: and earth, if put second to Heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of Heaven itself."

and it got me thinking about the progression of my faith. i have this thing where i want to work so hard, and so fast and so completely on getting DONE with things (example: i have recently been in such a manic state at church with re-doing the offices and completing tasks that have to do with aesthetics, etc) that i can finally just be done, be complete, be finished. i want to work and then be done with it. no progression, no cycles, no seasons. just total work and then total rest. its annoying that i am this way.

something about the concept that we may be in the first stages of heaven here and now, should we chose it, makes me rethink myself. i am on this journey (please, i think as i type, no more journey analogies! but they are so good, though, its unavoidable) and i have tried to chose heaven as i know it and if what cs says in some way is true, then i am going to keep getting closer to the next stage of heaven (in a mysterious sense, i hope this isnt coming off like i am changing my theology) as i keep growing and changing and choosing to follow after God. and, so, in a sense, my work on earth, my growth, my change, my progress, is never done. the more i know or understand or think i know or understand God, the more awareness i have of my need for him, the more awareness i have of my need to live for his Kingdom and to be part of bringing that in some small or big way here and now.

i made a choice to follow God one summer and as i continue to live in the wake of that choice, i realize now that i needing to keep choosing it... because my understanding of the choice keeps changing. it begins to encompass more. its deepening, consuming.

i dont feel like i am being clear.

ok.

i think as i get older in my faith, i am realizing that i am continually learning about what it means to call myself a christian and live as a christian (little christ).

for the first part of my years following jesus, i thought it was choosing the right moral path... not kissing boys i wasnt dating, not getting drunk, not being selfish and self-centered, not gossiping. so i worked hard at that, learned how to tame some of those desires and bad habits... and don't you know it, i have found it relatively easy to stop those little sensual sins from creeping in too often (i am not perfect by any means and am not claiming i havent made mistakes in these areas as a christian, but the mistakes are less frequent and less intense as they were before).

so the next stage of following jesus was serving God in a church setting, reading lots of christian authors, reading my bible and trying to be a "light" to those around me. so, i volunteered at the church for 3 years, almost part time during the summers, read lots and lots of zondervan, tried to learn the bible and talked to my friends in college about jesus and my "relationship" with him. all good things, all helped in my growth, etc etc.

stage 3... mentor, community/bible study and "relationship evangelism" and then even beginning to mentor someone else.... check, check (double check, actually, as i oversee community groups for the church), half check (it could be better, cause now that i work for the church, i barely interact with people outside the church, which makes my heart sad and disconnected), and check (somehow i get to have a rad girl in my life who wants my advice on things, its weird).

ok, so i think now, this month/year/year(s?) i am coming into the next stage, sort of. on the edge of the abyss/black hole/unknown(?) i feel like, even in all the service, and learning, and relating, and growing (and again, ALLLLL these are so good and positive and important, i am not downplaying them), i am still, STILL figuring out how to give every part of me to the One above it all. to live in the inbetween, between dreams and cloudy fog and unformed mass and sorrow and brokeness and work and sad-- and then in those bits of beauty, the real reality (heaven) awaiting me- the flashes of heaven that haunt me in moments of perfection, in moments of connection, moments of "i think im in love", moments of utter rest, moments of joy and moments of eveything's right with the world.

i still don't think i am saying it.

cs famously says in the great divorce:

"If we insist on keeping Hell (or even earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell."

and i guess what i am saying is i want to dig around under the bed and in the back of the closet and behind the shelf and inbetween the couch cushions and give back my souvenirs.

he spoke

i called grandma and grandpa yesterday to see how things were. grandpa is out of ICU, on the mend, walking the walker all the way down the long hallway and ready to get the hell out of there (his words). grandma's rich, vintage voice was perked when she answered the phone in their lovenest/retirement home room they now share and told me all about how she was so proud of her "sweet william" who had returned to sleep next to her (in another bed) for the first time in years (they couldnt sleep in the same bed cause of her health problems) in their room they now share.

he came on the phone, "hi kris" not remembering much of our visit and so ready to be out of that hospital and now so ready to be out of that retirement home. he was shakey in voice, but it was his voice. HIS VOICE, finally, not just whispers, but solidly, his voice. i told him how i had been praying for him and he lit up, his demeanor feeling a bit like it did in the hospital the first time i saw him there, and he was so grateful. he soaks up your prayers, thanks for reading and praying for them both.

grandma has plans for their life there, their life home and their life after this, she says.

fumes

last night, i went to sleep with my newly painted, vintage, bought for 5 dollars from bargain barn nightstand by my bed side. up late with no dinner made my head achey as i drifted off to sleep, but i would be fine if i got some waffles in me first thing. when i got up this morning, my head was pounding, aching worse and i felt dizzy. as i ate in front of the heater reading my email, my head wouldnt stop hurting. i realized i had coated that night stand with a clear protective coating the day before that hadnt dried all the way and i was breathing in fumes from it all night. after that long night of unhealthy breathing, my brain cells were corrupted, altered, pounding, that inside your head headache that doesnt go away with water and advil. by about 6pm, it began to subside and as i drove home from my meeting (5.5 hours, a new record), i realized it was all because of breathing in bad things i had no idea were getting inside of me.

just had to say...

....that tonight was one of the best nights of ministry ever.

not cause lots of stuff was solved or organized or figure out....but you get 4 people together, with similar passions and vision, big hearts for people and God, that college/post college 20 something idealism, mixed with a vague sense of hipster awareness and cultural saavy, and something magic happens.

mostly, though, it has to do with God's spirit. And His choice to bless us with each other and a chance to make a difference.

i
love
my
job.

i sat listening to your prayers and imagined us all somewhere else someday, doing different things, in different places, with different people, knowing that each of us would loook back on this time, even this moment, and remember it as when something started.



what do we call this thing? josh suggested "love wins"... its jacked from rob bell, but i think he'd be ok if we used it for something so kick-a.

losing your mind at 1am

things come out so much better late at night, i have so much honesty in here.

i wish i was cohesive enough to have a larger theory about things. what would i say, if i were going to give a message to everyone, whats my theory? whats my saying? whats my thing?

i am finding that i often think i know what that thing is, and i live on it for a while, only to outgrow it for something else. i am making no sense, but as i write, it feels good. sometimes only a picture, a light, an image, a song, music and words written out on paper in a meandering manner can say what you mean to say. i talk a lot a lot a lot, say so many things, figure out so much, analyze critique understand, come to so many conclusions. but in the end,

i

don't

know.

i want to keep going with this idea about songs saying something, poetry/stream of conscious/cryptic statement saying something, art in general saying something... because they do, don't they? why does the way a room looks put together in such a way say so much? why do lyrics to melodies to choruses to hooks make me feel better, worse, moved, loved, part of and outside? why do these fingers tap tap tapping make so much sense?

why have i started so many books i have not finished?

why does one day feel so good and the next...?

why does it take so long to feel this way?

why are hearts so easily bruised?

why, in the sun coming down and the warmth, am i whole?

why, the next second, so much frustration and confusion.

no conclusions. just more songs, more looks, more subtlety, more imagery and more of what you can't quite say but you just feel.

he is one hungry soul

((late night randomness without cohesion))


so my grandma says grandpa can't eat anything, not even jell-o. they still can't see each other, she in the nursing home, he in the icu. he had one of his first lucid conversations this weekend, which makes me happy.... last week, it became almost unbearable for me to imagine him spending that last part of his life without being able to actually talk to anyone, especially his kids, clearly.

grandma says this is the hardest time of their whole lives, both of them being so sick. and this sounds so dramatic to type out, to share... but she is on month 3 of her 3-6 months the docs gave her till her heart gives out. we always thought she would be the first one to go, having been sick so long, but now grandpa isnt doing too well either. all grandma wants is for them to be at home, like it was before and for her to be able to lay in the bed next to him. she has even told my dad she will be the one to take care of him, thats right all 20% of her functioning heart caring for the man shes been married to for 53 years, who has taken care of her for most of those years.

all this makes me see death more clearly, or i guess you could say makes me see death as reality, not some far-away thing. i dont think i have ever endured the suffering of having death around me all the time or the suffering of knowing its so near. even just being in such proximity to it now is jarring. dan spoke about it today for easter, the reality of death and reality of eternal choices. i just dont know how anyone can endure the sort of suffering my grandparents are in-- or how they can endure the suffering thats felt a million ways in a million people in a million places all over over the world-- without the hope of a life after this. how?


i drove my car over the hill today and thought about how much i love my grandparents, but how i dont see them very much. and how much of their love is actually formative love, love that made me who i am-- they were around for the first 5 years of my life and loved me so much and spent so much time with me, that i feel so strongly they were a huge part of building my foundation and self-awareness and self worth. and i thought about how i love them so much, but its often at a distance and often out of memory. then i looked at the cars around me, and thought that i dont really know the people driving aorund me, but some part of me does love them, since they are people and i have a basic love for humanity. but i love them only as we drive in a pack along a windy road, slowing for accidents and curbs, taking exits and disappearing. and i thought about how much i love my parents, who i see all the time and who are such a huge part of my life and who are in an ongoing relationship with me and know my details and news and updates and ups and downs, how their love is present, daily, there. and i thought about how maybe sometimes our loving of God is a lot like how we love the people around us. maybe sometimes we love at a distance, maybe sometimes we love like we know we will pull of at the next exit... maybe sometimes we love daily, in the present, in the details.

i listened to a song in my car today and it sung " i wanna live and i wanna breathe, to search out your heart and all of your mystery"-- and i got to thinking about God's mystery and how i have spent 7 years getting to know God and still dont know even a tiny percent of him, but how i have given up, in some ways, trying to search out his mystery, since i feel like He can't show me anything new any more-- except more examples of the things i already get. either i am in for big disappointment or a big surprise or a big fat fall on my face....

grandma says grandpa is one hungry soul and i liked how she said it, because my soul is hungry, too

more on breathing

yesterday, i visited my grandfather in the icu. last week, he was having trouble breathing and my mom noticed it on the phone. a couple days after my mom mentioned her concern, he fell over in his house, hitting his rib cage, collapsing his lung. while in the hospital for that, they discovered some sort of serious intestinal infection that has rendered him almost unconscious for the past 6 days. my grandmother, who he normally takes care of full time since he retired, was released this week from the hospital after what they thought was congestive heart failure. because grandpa can't care for her, she's now staying in a retirement village alone until grandpa can join her when he is released from the regular hospital.

walking into the icu, i didnt have a clue what i would see, except the warnings from my family that he "didnt look good" and they'd never seen him this way and i didnt have a clue how i would feel, except perhaps sad and maybe overwhelmed, but i think if you expect overwhelmed, its hard to get there.

entering his room, i saw my aunt standing next to him and how he moved his eyes from her to me, but it was only just the slits of his eyes. and he moved his mouth, but just the corners, up a bit, "hi kris." and i wanted to touch him, but we can't, he might be contagious. and i wanted to hug him, but there were all these tubes in and out and monitors beeping, warning. and i wanted to say something, anything, to make it different, but i can't, because there wasnt anything.

"hi grandpa"

and his head was back and forth and he ached a bit from all the tubes and discomfort and he wanted to say something, to be something else, to be the man i knew, who never even had a cold and who took care of everyone else and who wasnt this.

we exchanged a few words, but it took him a long time to respond to anything i said, his mouth just open, wanting to form words.... but it only just short breaths, just stifled air.

"grandpa.," i said, scared that what i would say would go nowhere, "this week, we were just learning about how the name of God, when spoken in the language of the bible, sounded just like these short breath sounds. and how breathing was a really important part of representing our faith... and how some people think that in some mysterious way, just our breathing is speaking the name of God. So dont worry about saying anything to us, or to him, just work on your breathing. Cause He can hear it, He knows your breaths." and he just scrunched up his face like he wanted to cry, saying my name, "kris, oh kris" and i want to think he got it, that somehow inside, he understood.

"i love you, i love you."

"i love you, so much."

he was having a hard time not talking, and was in so much pain, needing medication, needing rest. so we started to go. i leaned over and prayed for him, prayed for strength and healing and peace. and thanked God for the way this man, who has spent the last 20 years caring, many of them full time, for my grandma, whose diabetes have caused a very slow decline of her body.

two things kept going through my mind.

i kept remembering his rosary, which he kept by his armchair-- evidence of his faith, which he spoke about only a little bit, and acted on almost all the time. so i knew this prayer meant something to him.

and i kept being reminded of the fact that he has laid down his life for my grandmother, just as Christ laid down his life for the Church. he laid down his life for her, he laid down his life for her... i just kept hearing it.

breathe

I found out recently that I don’t know how to breathe.

We watched rob bells newest nooma video, breathe, at our prayer meeting this past Monday night. It was the third time I had seen it, and its all about the spiritual significance of breathing… how the greek word for Lord was "YHWH" and the way it was pronounced or spoken was as vowels, essentially as breathing sounds, as breath. And so rob bell does, as only rob bell can, an incredible job of weaving an engaging narrative/stream of conscious monologue around this metaphor/reality (are spiritual metaphors only metaphors to our practical minds? Are they, in fact, not metaphor but the simple reality of our existence as creatures of God? Is breathing itself speaking the name of God?). And as he spoke about the fact that most of our breath should be from our stomach (deep breath) and less from our chest (shallow breath) and that it gives us 90% of our energy, but the average person only taps in to 10-20% of the energy breath offers, and about how as a whole, our society is so harried and so busy and so stressed, that it takes 4 times more breaths per minute than we are supposed to, I found myself unable to even breathe just thinking about it. I became suddenly conscious of my most basic bodily function (one that, perhaps, in some mysterious way is simply speaking the name of God constantly, from my first to last breath, just breathing his Name) and realized I don’t think I know how to breathe. Because when I started paying attention to my breathing and where it comes from (mostly my chest) and how often (too often), I began to confuse the natural rhythm I thought I had with the learned way I actually breathe. Am I breathing too shallowly? Am I breathing too fast? Am I doing it wrong? Have I learned to do it wrong from the beginning and now I need to relearn? Shouldn’t this just come naturally?

This was the third time I had seen this video in a week, and each time, I got self conscious about my breathing, trying to breathe well, but not being able to think my way through it. and still writing this and suddenly being conscious of it again,

I am worried I don’t know how to breathe.

answers

i feel like i have been answering a lot of questions... for work, mostly, because i am the go to girl for most anything. but when people come to you with those deeper questions- concerning tragedy, direction, possibility, hope, clarity, clarification, confusion- i begin to wonder if i am in any place to say a thing.

i think, in all my desire to fix the world, i want to have the answers. but to continually perpetuate my worldview and my experiences (which are the thing with which i have shaped my answers by), i get worried.

cause what if my worldview is wrong?

what if my experiences don't cross all the divides between us?

what if what i see right now is nothing compared to what i will see then?



cause this person i am now is so far from what i was even just a year ago.

can i settle on leaving things at a question mark?

the inability to stop hoping

in coming out of something you expected to work- a relationship, a job, a friendship, anything of true significance to the heart- you have a hard time letting go of it. even if you logically understand that it was not good for it to continue, or that it had to end, or that you had no choice for whether it ended it or not and you have to accept where it is right now- you still hold on to the hope it promised you at the time of it being good/healthy/present. why? can't our logic overide our emotion here? why do we cling to hope in something that is finished?

i am watching that in many ways, in many people i know, in myself- that inability to stop hoping. even after so much time has passed, even after all discussion has been had, and all conclusions drawn, the tiniest bit of hope can still remain. you have reasoned every reason, but light still shines somewhere in that dark room with the door closed, uninvited. unexpected.

though painful in so many ways, because it can rob you of whats right now, i realized last night that i actually should find it inspiring, this inability to stop hoping. maybe hope is so strong, so powerful a force, that when you have it for someone, something, some situation, it takes time for that hope in that thing to change.

perhaps, hope is so powerful, that it never really goes away. maybe when you have hope in what was good at one time, its a hope in what is good at all times.

maybe we need to learn to hope transfer. i hope i dont lose my inability to stop hoping.

life life and more life

the heart is the core of who we are... our understanding, intellect, emotion, desire, will. unguarded and exposed, things tear away at it and everything is affected. and the heart numb, it almost stops living. it doesnt even know what to feel or think, or be. its just pumping and keeping you half conscious.

i am seeing my heart bruised and bleeding, me holding my skin together to keep it all inside- the bleeding- feeling like maybe i did this, i deserve this, not sure what happened. and the blood is drying and somehow in the shock of it, i got a needle and stitched myself up- the black thread stark on flesh. and in waking, i am wiping away the blood ... seeing my skin fresh again.

yes, there is an awakening. dead, numb -- for months. and now, awake. but not a sudden jolt, not an anxious awareness of a different state... its a slow waking, like on a good morning, when you have rested and are ready to get up and have a full day... ready to face it.


in that awakening, the heart, to do what it does best (which is to love), must forgive. at times, forgiveness feels impossible, impossible. but forgiveness and love, in the face of the reality of sin, are "inextricably bound together. God is continually, literally, second-by-second covering our sin under his sons blood and forgiving us our sins. God cannot love us unless He forgives us and cannot forgive us without a committment to love us. Love and forgiveness are equally bound together in all human relationships." (dan allender)


and so, the heart must forgive. not simply feel like forgiving, but must chose to forgive.

"Forgiveness is a not a feeling. Neither is it simply trying to forget the bad things done to us. it is an act of the will and heart. It is giving a person something they have not earned the right to have-- pardon. Forgiveness acknowledges that we have been wronged but it goes beyond that and extends mercy." (floyd mcclung)

In isaiah 53, we are given a prophecy about jesus and reminded of the bloody, violent sacrifice made that we might be forgiven. the images we see and feel are both the description of that violent sacrifice and the beautiful truth that forgiveness offers -- to be whole and to live.

"But the fact is, it was our pains he carried— our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us. We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own failures. But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed."


"Still, it's what God had in mind all along, to crush him with pain.The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life. And God's plan will deeply prosper through him."


this heart can no longer hide because it is numb. its feeling again, finally. and so it choses forgiveness. how can it not?

"Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you."eph 4:32

the novelty of youth --- and --- loneliness

i am at the national pastors convention this week in san diego. its quite good for me to be out of normal life for awhile. i do feel like one of the youngest people here, though, and its been ego boosting in a probably prideful and self-serving way. i feel like the token representative of youth here. like these older pastoral types (mostly white guys from middle america) are here and they are valid in their experience and insight, but i, yes i, hold the elusive understanding of what it is to be young (young!), hip (yes, hip!- well sort of), in tune with culture (the young hip culture!) and part of an emerging church (a young hip culturally saavy emerging church!). so i walk around feeling special and different and noticed. and i like it. in fact, i like it a little too much, i think, because i can tell my pride is making me think i am better than everyone. and then, as i sat chatting with dan and one of his friends and dan says he "stays young" by spending time with me and getting my insights, the reality struck me: my youth is simply a novelty.

and it will only last me so long.

so what is more substantial in me that i have to offer to others, even now, in my youth? because my youth is not my substance and it will not sustain.

also, loneliness. i came down here alone and spent the last day and half navigating around alone, with bits of hang out time with other people, but mostly alone. i enjoyed the novelty (such a good word) of the alone-ness, but a few hours ago, it began to feel heavy. i just like having people around who know me and can relate to me and get me. its good for me to feel this loneliness, as it helps me understand how it feels and how people in my life and church community might feel when they are new, alone, lonely, out of place. its vaccuous feeling. and real- palpable loneliness.

innocence

dan spoke tonight about how we need to be constantly recognizing our identity as justified and righteous in gods sight... and how living the identity as one who is set free from sin and seen as holy and pure by god should inspire and encourage and compell us to live lives striving for purity and holiness. though we are sinners and fall short, if we constantly live in that identity, we can never break out of our cycle of sin-- and can sometimes even use our idea that we are "just sinners" to justfiy us staying in sin and subtly abusing God's grace and forgiveness. it was an important reminder for us all, as we humans are in the constant state of understanding our need for this, then failing... thinking we have it right and then falling flat on our face to find we need to be lifted back up again.

dan quotes cs lewis at the end of his message

"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased"

as part of the gathering, the creative arts team had set up a prayer path, with small pretty stones covered in mud. the prayer path was to kneel down at the "mudpie" and put your hands in it, recognizing that as we continue to sin and not strive for holiness, we are settling for mud. the second part of the path was to take one of these small stones out of the mud, wash it in a basin of water and wipe it clean, recongizing that we can chose to not play in the mud and see the true beauty of purity in our lives.

as i approached the prayer station, one of the kids in our community stood by the station observing people go through the path, telling them "you can keep those if you want, you know." as i kneeled down next to him, i felt like i should feel this heavy weight on me, that i should bear the guilt of sins i have committed knowing full well that i was taking advantage of Gods grace. but instead there was this bright boy, his innocence radiating, reminding me that this small stone, representing the innocence and purity and holiness i have in Gods sight, can indeed be kept by me. i invited him to pick a stone out with me and we both picked them out together, put them in the water, feeling the mud sticky, then washed away in one simple act. then wiped clean in the towel.

i looked at it in the light, held it up. "look," i told him, "hold it up to the light!" and he did and it was a moment, both of us holding up our stones, letting the light shine through.

i'm sick

yes, as you have heard in little bits over the last few posts, i am indeed, sick. what i realized today is that its not like i have this really bad illness that won't go away. what i actually have is a compromised immune system that is allowing all sorts of bugs and bacteria and virus' into my body, and bit by bit, those stupid things are making me sick with a whole plethora of different sicknesses- back to back and without much break in between. my body probably doesn't even know what it feels like to be healthy, its felt so bad for so long.

so, finally, i took a few days off this week. this is the end of day three. i usually go stircrazy from being alone for so long, but its actually been quite enjoyable being alone and not really talking very much. i have liked it. but i am still going stir crazy and i am only going stir crazy because i have so much to do at work that i am near panic that i wont get it done in time. one of those things i have to do is prepare to speak again on sunday. so what do i chose to do with my time? blog.

but this is good, its part of the process. you see, because i am processing what i am thinking and learning as i study to speak. i am speaking on how we can't change without each other, the role our community has in our transformation. and i have been reading in "how people grow" by cloud and townsend all about the role of the Body in an individuals journey toward change. and though sometimes it feels like the body metaphor is overused and sort of like, yeah yeah, the church is the Body of Christ, blah blah-- right now, its just so real to me, so just, alive (the Body, its alive! ALIVE!)

the authors of this book point out the amazing reality of how the physical body functions--

"for this is what the physical body does when one cell suffers. it sends healing to the injured part of the body. if you have a wounded arm, for example, the body sends antibodies, healing agents, fresh oxygenated blood, white cells, information, anti-inflammatory agents, and so on to that limb. And they do their healing work."

-- and then go on to compare that to how the Body of Christ is to work-- that some bring grace and love as anti-inflammatory agents.... others mourn together and their tears flush out sickness.... teachers offer truth to a wound and help build a strong cellular structure.... when it all works together, infections are healed.

as i study this, i remember that i read "the gift of pain" last year and how its a longer, deeper look into the paralells between the physical body and the spiritual one- and is especially specific on the role pain plays both in the growth of our body and our soul.

so in thinking of our brokeness, as individuals and as a Body--of our sickness both physically and spiritually-- of how we are healed and how sometimes we remain sick, i wonder what the metaphor i am living in means?

"He has lost connection with the Head, from whom the whole body, supported and held together by its ligaments and sinews, grows as God causes it to grow" (Col 2:19)

"From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work" (Eph 4:16)

i am still breathing garlic

i was eating dinner at a ministry meeting with some friends this evening and had some garlic bread. it was yummy and perfect in the context of a lasagna and salad dinner. i enjoyed it (though i was a bit paranoid about my breath, as i often am). then, just as dinner was ending, our lovely hosts plopped down a big bowl of m&m's in front of us. i tried to resist, but couldn't. i got a handful and happily began munching away. the unfortunate part of that was i hadnt waited long enough after the garlic to eat these tasty treats, so i got a mouthful of garlicky chocolate. being wise and having an extensive knowledge of the taste palette, i figured if i ate more chocolate, eventually the garlic taste would wear off. but no.

in about 15 minutes, as we talked and checked in and readied to pray for each other, we put the m&m's on the coffeetable and i decided to try and have some more- cause i want the chocolate taste, not the garlic taste, in my mouth as we talked to God. but no, the garlic was still there. fine.

after prayer, pre-discussion time, we were offered some more sugary goodness. cookies and strawberries. so i had a chocolate chip cookie, thinking it would be just fine. well more than fine. i had decided it was high time for my mouth to have a new sensation, experience something different and yummy and non-garlicky. while the garlic had faded, the cookie somehow just did not taste as good as i expected. so i had some more cookie. more has to be the answer, right?

no.

so i then had a strawberry. though sweet, it was fresh, refreshing, really. it gave me a good feeling.

earlier today, in what felt like an endless series of meetings, i had grabbed a big container of hershey kisses and began devouring them. my bloodsugar gets low in the afternoon and i need these to help keep me awake, you see. its really more about practicality than it is about taste. well, at first it is about practicality, then it becomes a nice treat. but after the first 3, its hard to stop. i am probably just hungry and need some actual food, but somehow reason that the kisses will be enough. so i keep eating them and eating them. at some point, i cant even taste the sweetness anymore. i just want them to fill me up.

and they don't.

the worst part is that i have been sick for almost 2 months with this stupid flu/cold/cough thing and last week, thought i had almost fought it off. then a sore throat returned this week. so i have really needed to be more disciplined about what i eat and how i take care of myself. avoiding sugar would be smart. but i can't seem to stop eating it. and once i get going on it, i just can't get enough. not that sugar is bad all the time, but this just isnt the time.

and it struck me, as i breathed my garlic breath over my sore throat on the drive home and felt my stomach turn from too much sugar:

there is thing i have with trying to fix things with the wrong solutions... even when i know what the right solution would be.

and there is this thing i have with wanting more of things i know i shouldnt have, in a timeframe that is usually sooner than what is best.

what a day to begin breathing

its loud upstairs

sounds i cant see, noise i cant know
just persistent and always
i drive home the same ways, see lights in a row

and

stop

and

go

songs unfamiliar, their words bleed inside, saying things that are right
i want you to write my soul, you say it so much better than i could

"bring on the evening as i cry, bring on the evidence of my life"


these days are so sweet, empty from the way that sorrow would suffocate

but there is that wondering, and waiting,


and... and.... and...





then, i find the decision to just be here, be here, be here

and i want to stay

addiction

i felt compelled to say that at this late hour, i am not tired. moreover, i am not ready to sleep. even more... i am addicted to "alias." i cannot stop watching it, no matter how hard i try, i just can't. i am addicted to the crazy fight scenes where sydney kills the bad guy, gets what she needs and beats all the odds. i am addicted to the storyline, which can't seem to get more complex or intriguing, but always does. i am addicted to the way vaughn pines after sydney, he gets this look in his eye and its just like, oh.

fearfully and wonderfully made

every year, my family gets massages as part of our christmas gift. it sounds kind of weird, yeah, but its one of the few things that will get my punk brothers to actually show up and hang out with the rest of the family :) so this is something nice to look forward to each year, because who doesnt like a massage?

this year, as we sat waiting to get taken to our rooms for the massages, i told my sis and bro that i really hoped i didnt get a guy cause that would definitely be kind of awkward. i didnt want to have to feel awkward when a massage is supposed to be relaxing. and dont you know it, when my masseuse came, he was, in fact, a guy. i smiled and laughed to myself... awesome.

now, being an extrovert and the way i am, i get anxious in silence, especially with people i dont know. i have a tough time not talking to the person giving me a massage when i get one (see july 05 blog). this year, i was just wanting peace- i was not really looking forward to having to make small talk with a stranger for an hour, in a dark room, with airy new age music going on in the background (not that i think new age music is wrong, i just dont personally prefer it). so i wasnt stoked on the added weirdness of having a guy masseuse. hmmm, how is this going to go?

when my masseuse (jason) took me to the room, i was pleasantly surprised to find it a well lit and spacious room. it smelled really inviting and the music was soft, eclectic world music, with a sort of indian flavor to it. laying on my back with a blanket over me, jason put his hands out over me, not touching me at all... he then slowly moved them down and pressed his hands into the small of my back and i heard him sort of whispering-- i am not sure if he was praying or what, but it definitely felt like he took a moment to think through what he was doing, to sort of honor the experience.

as my massage began, i was surprised to feel overcome with peace- a sense that i could talk if i wanted or i could just be quiet. i felt very comfortable, very at ease. jason told me a bit about different types of massage and different theories about muscle work, which was good-- keep it professional, help assure he wasnt creepy. he also began telling me about how massage therapists travel quite a bit and dont usually stay in one place too long... many are very "spiritual" he said, and like to visit Africa, India and experience those cultures and religions. this really struck me, because as jason worked very carefully on my different muscles, i could tell he was treating them each very delicately and had a very deep respect for each part of the body, for the intricate way the body is made up. this got me to thinking about the body and the fact that God has crafted each of us so very particularly and uniquely. and i started to imagine how it must have been for God when he was creating the body... carefully looking over each part, putting each piece together, smiling at the beauty he was creating. and i imagined how he must have marveled when it was all done- thinking "this is good."

perhaps, i wondered, as jason began to work out the crazy knots on my upper back, the reason many massage therapists are so spritiual is that they get to deal with the body all the time... and they arent necessarily looking at it clinically or intellectually, really, but as this intricate beautiful masterpiece- each part connected to the other, the muscles all tied together with the rest of the systems of the body... and how touching them in a certain way and helping to relieve the stress of the everyday (jason said that the smallest things we do can affect our muscles-- how we type, how we answer the phone, how we use a mouse) can make them function the way they were originally meant to work.

i was surprised during the massage at how much my body reacted to being touched in this "therapeutic" way by someone who knew so much about muscles and how to help them relax. as my body eased and was able to release all the tension, stress, and tightness it held, i began to feel other things leave me - confusion, sadness, worry... the body tied up so closely with all my feelings. how does that work? our bodies, minds, hearts, souls are all tangled and touching- we can't separate them and when one hurts, all the others seem to follow suit.

we are fearfully and wonderfully made

children of men

on christmas night, i went to see "children of men" with a bunch of boys (sorry, i mean "men" :) ) in san jose. it was the first time in i cant remember how long that i spent time with friends instead of family on christmas night. being a product of a two family system, usually i have two christmas', but my mom is in ohio this year, so we only had one. so i got the chance to join some of the san jose men for what seemed to be a yearly tradition they have of seeing a movie on christmas night. we ventured to the ultra hip CineArts theatre on santana row and sat in a sold out audience to take in what has to be one of my favorite movies of the year.

not many people have heard of this film, which is a shame, because its elegant and jarring, epic and subtle, and all those other great reviewer words that will get attached to it eventually. the premise is that in 2027, the world has crumbled into chaos because humans have become infertile - the youngest person on earth, at 18, has just died, causing worldwide mourning. the last "civil" country is the UK and they have become a police state, deporting or detaining all illegal immigrants into refugee camps and closely monitoring the population through survelliance cameras and and an oppressive military presence. we dont know why humans have become infertile, nor the details of what the rest of the world even looks like or how exactly it has deteriorated. mostly what we know is that things are not good- so not good that they cage people at train terminals, force fertility tests and sell home-suicide kits like claritin.

the main character, theo (clive owen, who i have decided is an incredibly striking and engaging actor, and well, pretty darn hot) is a depressed government worker sullenly drinking himself to death to dull the reality of what the world has become. but he must awaken himself from the numb when his ex-wife, julian, enlists him to help transport an illegal immigrant to the coast. julian and theo used to be activists when they were together, but theo seems to have defected and detached from everything he used to be when their son was killed in the flu pandemic that struck just before the infertility. it seems that in getting theo to help her, julian is able to uncover the part of theo that used to be passionate about something-- and that part slowly becomes inflamed once julian is murdered and his mission to bring the immigrant to the coast becomes illuminated- we find out that this immigrant is in fact pregnant with the first baby to be conceived in almost 20 years.

the movie becomes their mission to get this pregnant girl to saftey. and slowly, in all the madness and in all the violence and all the chaos, this one life becomes the single hope for the rest of the world.

yes, yes, the parallels to christmas/mary/jesus are obvious once you start looking for them - but the brilliance of this film is that they dont hit you over the head with it at all. once the concept is fully realized, you are so moved by the subtly in which its been presented and by the freshness of seeing it in a new context, that you cant help but be changed.

this movie does something to you-- the setting and imagery is so familiar and the imminent threat of a world becoming this chaotic is so believable-- that the movie gives this insane sense of urgency. urgency that we need to live as we were created to live--well, more specifically to seek out the thing that created us to live and to pursue it with everything we have, at any cost.

despite the urgency i feel, i am still left feeling somewhat inadequate in my current state. does everyone wonder if they are doing enough?

see that movie.

cinque terra.... epic aloneness

this is one of the most gorgeous places on the face of the planet. i spent a day and night here alone, sort of. it was glorious.

MONTEROSSO



this was the view from a rock i sat on for about an hour and journaled from. i spent a lot of time that day writing and thinking and listening and observing. i like to watch people, scenes unfold. i have trouble, though, letting my own life unfold. cinque terra taught me a bit about slowing.



this is the other view from the journaling rock. i like when landscapes are half covered in shade. its calming for some reason. there were a lot of boats sort of lazing about in this tiny bay. no one was ever rushing.



this is the biggest beach in montessoro... you had to pay 15 euro to lay on one of these lounge chairs. being the bargain hunter i am, i took a towel from my hotel room that barely stretched past my knees and went to one of the "free" tiny beaches on the other side of this beach. lots of men in speedos, lots of women in barely anything. a truly european experience.



these are my legs and feet. i spent a lot of time being worried about my legs being too white compared to all the crazy beautiful italians. this day, i was ok with them.



this is a wonderful couple from america who i shared a room with. we each seperately all thinking we would pop into monterosso that day without a room booking and then met at this random "b and b" which turned out to be some guys random apartment, which ended up being a dead end in trying to find lodging. after a dozen calls trying to find any available rooms in the tiny city, we realized getting a triple was our only solution. though on their honeymoon, the couple were happy to let me crash with them. we had a great discussion over dinner that night and i ended up giving them my copy of "velvet elvis" after a cool discussion we all had about faith.



the streets of monterosso by night.



the bay of monterosso by night.

VERNAZZA



after my day alone/night with the honeymooners, marissa and mikey met me at the train station. they missed the first train into town, which led me to believe they would never make it and i would be stranded there in that tiny town and lose them for the rest of the trip. luckily, one hour later, they made it :) we spent the day in the sun (mikey hiding in the shade of other peoples umbrella's) then trekked from monterosso to vernazza in the rain.



vernazza is tiny, picturesque and addicting. we never wanted to leave it.



view from the wharf where we sat, eating fruit from the market, wishing we could spend always here.