bits

i have like 50 blogs in me right now.

but i learned yesterday that due to the fact that I am an Extravert on the Myers-Briggs, some of my vulnerabilities are "distraction and suggestibility" which means that i am easily distracted and that if i am planning to do a specific task (blog, write, read, exercise, whatever) and something better or more pressing or more immediate comes up, then i am prone to be easily suggested in the new direction. so, i will not apologize for my not blogging for two months, i will only say that i intend to be more balanced in my overall personality, which will in turn help my blogging commitment, but this will probably take some time to change.

i am going to give you random out of order bits of my mind, with potentially longer blogs to follow.

1. i love my boyfriend. i just read his blog and all his thoughts and it made me love him so much. he would hate that i am being gushy in public like this, but i can't help it. this leads to the larger point that i am beginning to appreciate the introvert. being in a relationship with one for almost 8 months now has helped me learn to really soak up the opposite end of the spectrum. as i observe introverts in my life, here is what i see: introverts talk less. they listen better. when they do say something, its usually brilliant, well thought through and intentional. introverts are full of imagination and thought, but they don't need to always talk about it- they are subtler and easier in what they present, and they are not obvious. they tend to be ok with not being the center of everything, thus they seem more humble, gentle and sweet. i am jealous at their not talking. i want to be one, and i have moments, but i still talk too much, need to be the center and can't quite grasp that precious subtlety.

2. fashion shows are great and weird. i attended my first a few weeks ago, on that one hot weekend of glory. what i loved there was this intense sense of creativity and creation. all the people who flooded in to watch oozed with fashion and innovation-- for some forced, others beautifully hidden and delicate and simple. the music was inspiring and layered, thad completely rocked it. the clothes were recycled and great, being pushed and slinked down that runway like nothing else by the eclectic range models. they chose such a great variety of models, too, all different sizes, shades, attitudes. i was exceedingly proud of my friends who were in it, many of them involved with our church community, but totally immersed in this whole other world of color and texture. i loved how create the theme was too- all about nature and the elements, models and clothes representing the earth, reptiles, birds, early humans, the earth, the sun. so great.

the one thing that kept getting me was how many of the models didnt look at anyone- they just stared straight ahead, like they were looking for something or someone more important. this was the only real disconcerting part for me. i don't think i can be ok with that sense of detachment. if someone is in the room with you, seeing you, shouldn't they see you? but this was all that i could complain of. every other part was just so exciting and fun.

the best part, though, was at the end. once the crowds had cleared, i saw 3 women from our church-- they were each in their "dress up" clothes, two un their 60's and one in her 90's. they came to see the lovable Yarek, one half of the Ukrainian duo who keep VFC euro-fabulous at 9am on sundays. their presence about killed me. i loved that they came, that they wanted to support him, that they would drive over the hill and watch the show and then wait for Yarek in this eclectic art gallery, full of 20-something kids trying so hard to be something different and new and out of the ordinary, when really, it was these 3 who were the most unique parts of the night.

3. i have realized that one part of my job that's so hard is that i have to teach things to people that i don't think i completely understand or know.


ok, actually, will finish soon... have to go to sleep now...

all the things i have needed to say

Ok…. I have been neglecting you , blog, for quite some time, I know.

I know… Truth is, I’ve needed this space.

But i am ready again and i have a few things I’ve wanted to tell:


christmas goodness
I had a wonderful Christmas. Literally, from Dec 1st, on, was great. A redeemed Christmas season, I like to say, because up until this point, Christmas-time since before I can remember has been bad… real bad.

But this Christmas, I:

• Got my first Christmas tree for my own place….which came with mistletoe…. which my roommate promptly hung in every doorway of our house ;)

• Home-made most of my Christmas presents (scented candles), in the spirit of Advent Conspiracy, which also inspired much of our teaching for december, a rad prayer path (yay render), 2 local service projects, a global support of living water international, a coffeeshop art show and lots of relational bonding throughout the church :)

• Held a good ol’ fashioned Christmas white elephant exchange with our church family to say thanks to all those who serve at VFC

• Shopping in Union Square in SF on the busiest shopping weekend of the year

• Participated in an Advent celebration, made my own wreath (which got hung on my apartment door), ate way too many cookies and sung Christmas carols.

• Celebrated Christmas morning with the Jensen family at Juletta (spelling?) which included waking up at 5am, jumping on the sleeping brothers, singing more Christmas classics (doing so at 6am with lots of sweaters is a Swedish tradition, i guess), drinking lots of caffeine, opening gifts of inspiration and then celebrating the end of the night with three special words from a very special someone.

• Feeling a deep sense of peace… a certain awe at the celebration of Jesus’ birth… a sincere wonder at the true heart of Christmas… an honest appreciation for my life, an appreciation that transcended the circumstances being good and reached toward something eternal.


goodbyes
On a sadder note, my Gramma Marlyn died in November. She was a good woman, a hard woman at times, but loved God in her way and is at peace. All told, I spent 10 days this past fall/winter in Ohio because of her decline and then death, and each day reminded me of how much I appreciate my life in Santa Cruz. I deeply love my extended family, but I also see the brokenness of that life…the routine of not hearing anything at all, of falling back into the pattern of anger, bitterness, pride, just not seeing. Almost a senselessness…. Like nothing is seen, nothing is heard, nothing is felt, beyond the present emotion. Life laps the shore endlessnessly, pointlessly, eroding…. Nothing overtly beautiful to it, at least not that I can see. But there are those moments and those looks that give me hope and I remember that I believe in a God who is capable of far more. I must hope.

e x p a n s i o n
I continue to be challenged by the Theodyssey course I am taking. Every bit of it is at once comfortably familiar (thanks to my years of therapy) and strikingly fresh (new ways to see the new self). We took a retreat in January that just filled me right up and inspired me to the brink, causing me to believe that every single person in the church should take this class. As soon as I articulated this out loud to my fellow retreaters, I realized that this was complete madness. You have to be ready and willing for something like this and it’s not easy to stick with. But worth it, to me, in what I see of it, because it’s changing everything and affirming everything, too. More later on this, I am sure.

this wall
For years, probably 3, I have felt myself striving for something. Direction for my future, a light on a path toward something else, a path or a destination or a place that is somehow obvious and perfect and easy to choose. But thus far, my life, its only this staying. In this stability, though, I have grown real and true. I really think this. I don’t regret not leaving or pursuing beyond what I have, because what I have and have had is just good. Real and true…. Really, honestly, just good.

But just beneath that stable goodness that has allowed so much and taught so much, lurks the next steps. I am being prepared, there is no question…. but for what, I don’t know. And everyone asks/encourages…. You should write. You should travel. You should pursue your masters. And I love that. But the what, the what. What, what… what…. is the what? (a good question and an excellent book). I don’t think I know my what and I feel like time is now beginning to slip away.

I am 26. They say babies aren’t safe past the mid-30’s, that you gotta pop those things out early to be safe. My dad had this conversation with me the other day, especially cause i only got the one ovary now. But, um, Dad, shouldn’t I have a husband first? Shouldn’t we figure that out first? And the dozens of engagements swirling around (slight exaggeration, but not by much) exert that 6-month pressure on me that seems unavoidable in Christian dating world—you’ve been together 6 months, are you getting engaged?! Are you kidding me?! This is the rest of my life!!...Can I have at least a year to figure that decision out? Is that ok with you? But, I digress.

So, I feel this wall. Like I have seen it from far away and known it’s coming. I even sometimes think its right in front of me, like my depth perception is off (it’s right here! I am going to hit it! It’s right in front of me, I can’t find a way through! What will I do?!) …but then I realize I have awhile to go before I hit it. And I feel safe again, knowing it’s impending, but knowing I have time. And I enjoy the present, as we do, giving slightly less consideration than I should for what I wish were a farther future.

But now, the length and height and width are more apparent, and it’s bigger and more beautiful and more terrifying than I had first expected. I was way off on this thing. And now, sitting here in the Gypsy Den in Orange County, having been up since 4:54am, traveled down here, sat through 8 hours of a conference, I am worn and tired, my emotions raw-- 07I feel like I could cry for all I want to know and all I want to say. Prayers have been sparse, I feel like I have said it all before. Revelation has been sporadic, something larger seems like it should come. Decisions have been avoided, I will wait for one that simply can’t be ignored. In this state, I just run my hands along the wall, feeling for the opening, waiting for that space that will let me through.

bells resonance

i have spent most of my life very acutely aware of my "issues." therapy and "deep talks" were just a part of everyday life from a very early age. my parents are, as i often say, intensity junkies and deep talkers. superficial small talk is nearly non-existent when i am with them. most of the issues and most of that acute awareness of self i have experienced has served me well and i find myself often counseling (with permission or not ;) ) most of my friends and even some acquaintances. to be candid, i often think i have a fair amount of understanding of self and of how to navigate those tumultuous emotional waters tossing and turning beneath our surfaces. but often i turn to look in me and i find myself covered in salty, dark, heavy waves i cannot even recognize as the sea at all. i find that all the navigation i thought i had done sometimes leaves me back in the same place i began.

i am currently taking a class on spiritual formation that i am convinced every single person who claims to follow jesus should take at one point. it is filled with the most simple truth and profound reality that i have yet to encounter in my faith... all the hints of what felt right in different christian settings and all the glimmers of what hope might look like in conversation and all the deep wisdom of such profound texts seems to be reflected in the content of this course. i dont want to be one of those people who says "try this [book/class/church/group/____], it will change your life" but if i had to choose one thing that i would say that about, its this.

i cant even go into all i have learned so far... its all so fresh, but at the same time, all so timeless, ((argh, i could write a book))-- but tonight seemed to illuminate something in me. so much movement happened in my heart, so many things rang true, so much was spoken just for me, it felt. a knot has been knitted in my throat, emotions just waiting to become real, its scary to think of letting that floodgate go. its still there, making it slightly hard to breathe.

you see, i am learning/understanding how to articulate a profound truth that we all see and experience life through a grid. first, before the grid, i learned that our perceptions of the world are formed very intensely in two periods of life-- a collection of images in our pre-verbal stage and a dependence on physical touch from others builds our early experience and impacts how we understand our place in the world and our value to others... am i accepted? am i lovable? am i worthy? before we are 3, mom is the primary giver of our acceptance, love, worth. then, in our pre-teens, we move away from dependence on mom (we were connected so deeply in the womb, we must naturally seperate and find ourselves away from her) and seek approval from dad, who tells us how to behave. if i am his daughter, i define the reality of my feminity based on how dad reacts to my change from girl to woman. if i am his son, i define my very masculinity on what he shows me and how he accepts me.

so the grid. through it we see our life. much of our grid can be good-- accomplishments, moments of love and acceptance, growth, healthy development. we see clearly through these spots, experience the reality of how life should be. but we also have these marred parts of the grid. the parts where things went wrong. mark #1: dad left before i became a woman... i can't trust that anyone will actually love me and stay with me... i am afraid of being left. mark #2: mom was chaotic and untrustworthy... i won' t be safe or provided for... i must be totally self sufficient. our marred grid spots keep us from the freedom to live without fear, keeps us from living in the fullness of how our creator has made us.

putting the intensity of my already hyper-aware mind together with the way this class articulates how we experience life at these deeper levels, i find this to be the best thing ever. not because it solves all the problems and not because it makes things easier. it just gives me voice. and words. makes these dark waves a little more clear.

so... do we have to live with these marred grids? must we always keep coming back to the same spots, realizing they block our view, making our perception of reality false?

they are etched into us, yes, and will always be there... but we have a choice as to whether we live by them, or whether we live in the freedom we find beyond them.

there are those bells that ring in those quaint small towns on the hour. you have to pull at them, those ones in the big bell tower. even after you pull on them enough times as there are hours, they keep on ringing, the ropes moving up and down with the bells weight. but as the bells stop being pulled, their sound gets fainter and fainter, the resonance lighter, till you can't really hear them anymore. we always have the bells, and they ring... but maybe when we know them well enough, know what they are, and why they are, we only experience the fainter resonance of their sound... once a day... then once a week... then once a month...

then, just once in a while.

three days ago calls came in and flights were boooked. my birthday became preparation and washed by. friends faithful through it, one seeing my tears and weakspots and being steady in spite. long sleepless flights, body aching. seeing her wheeled in, i put my face near hers as the sun broke in and she smiles. would this be her last october?

death feels poetic when family flocks from everywhere...when people cancel and miss and excuse and fly great distances... when tears come spontaneously, in sad and glad...when hospice nurses observe 20 people squeeze into her small soft lit room to pray "our fathers" and "hail marys" and "now i lay me down to sleep," to say nice things before she falls asleep....

death is not poetic when the amublance drivers almost drop her as they transfer her from gurney to bed.... when hours of waiting produce guilty boredom.... when she can't use the bathroom on her own... when you just let her smoke one more cigaratte because it doesnt matter at this point

she does not have enough time

there is not enough time

there is not enough time for all the music i want to listen to
there is not enough time for all the books i want to read
there is not enough time for all the magazines i subscribe to to be worth it
there is not enough time for all the amazing movies to be seen
there is not enough time for all the conversations i want to have
there is not enough time for all the questions i want answered
there is not enough time for all the places i want to see
there is not enough time for all the people i want to meet
there is not enough time for all the pages i want to absorb from the word that never fails
there is not enough time for all the ways i want to love
there is not enough time for all the things i want to learn
there is not enough time for me to sit and think
there is not enough time to cry
there is not enough time to be lazy
there is not enough time to stare out the window and wonder
there is not enough time to ride bikes in the sun
there is not enough time to absorb life happening in all the small ways around me
there is not enough time
there is not enough time
there is not enough tme
there is not enough time

she does not have enough time

chosing hope.

its been a church heavy time. i have been so immersed in church busy-work this last 2 weeks, its not the kind you hate, but a good busy-ness, so many good things ahead. its been interesting over the past 3.5 years working in a church setting because you get all sorts of different perspectives on what church means... some people love the church (as in the organized church that usually meets sundays and has ministries, etc) and cant get enough- it's their lifeline, group of friends, place to serve, sense of belonging- essentially, it's their family. others have been deeply wounded by the church--"burned by the church" is a term i hear almost daily. and i think both of these people are valid in their view and dont discredit or undermine their experiences or any experience that lands somewhere on the huge gray scale between the love and hate relationship we can have with "the church." because of all the "church" focus, i am having all these thoughts swimming around in my brain about "church"... if i may....

• someone saying they have been "burned by the church" is almost analogous to someone saying that they have been hurt by another human being. its bound to happen to anyone and everyone at some point, especially because the church is made up of a bunch of fallen people. but just like when one person hurts another, there needs to be apologies. and just like in person to person relationshops, there needs to be forgiveness, even when you don't feel like it. and both sides need to recognize the part they played in the "hurt," because often times its miscommunication... or unmet/unrealized expectations... or a whole plethora of other relational glitches we have all experienced.

• no matter where you go, what organization you are part of, who you hang out with, how hard you try... things are always going to be at least slightly messed up and broken, if not totally messed up and utterly broken. you can look at any organization (including a church) or business or group of collected people, secular or non, and there are bound to be dysfunctions, disagreements, dis-satisfaction, and more. people are messed up. fallen. broken. prideful. sinful. some organizations and groups are more healthy than others, but all, every single one of them, is in process. they may be caught up in dysfunction at the moment and have no awareness of a need to change. or they could be coming out of dysfunction, on the path to healing and wholeness collectively. but no one, no group, no human-involved thing is without flaw. this does not mean we allow for brokenness to permeate and become the way we function. no. no way. we are just constantly looking forward, not worrying that we aren't enough or that we aren't where others are (collectively or individually), but we just ask "what is my next step in this?" (mark scandrette taught me that). and i just feel that if we can truly internalize these things, really allow the truth of our brokenness and the hope of our continual restoration, to just live in us-- man, it would just change the world.

• there is hope. oh, oh, do i believe it. i have heard about lots of people becoming "dis-enfranchised" from the church, in various places and for various reasons. this makes me sad, often it makes me doubt what i do as a person in paid ministry and makes me want to give up hope. but hope, hope is everywhere. i see it so plainly. re-imagine in sf is this amazing group of people committed to exist in a real kingdom way, in a neighborhood, covenanted around 7 values, striving to live in the way of jesus and yearning to make a difference in the lives of those around them. not an "organized church" in the traditional sense, it is jesus' church in every sense. and they are aware of their shortcomings, weaknesses, questions, failings. and though they don't "go to church" or have meetings in the same way, they still support and encourage more traditional churches, helping their leaders understand community values, even training one churches entire set of small group leaders. we got to have some members of their community come play music in our coffeehouse-- they form a band, the cobalt season, and they are "hopeful protest music." perfect. love it. i got to chat to them and some others who came from re-imagine and it was so refreshing not only to hear bits about what re-imagine is up to, but also to see their openness and their encouragement of what we were doing in our church setting. similarly, theodyssey is an organization that hosts intense 9 month spiritual formation courses- anyone from any church (or even anyone not part of a church at all) are able to take classes, and the leader, dave, works with local church leaders and members in the bay area, in portland and in other parts of the country. though he is part of a home church, he still believes in the mission of the local church and helps its leaders pursue a healthier and more holistic view of spiritual formation. even tonight, we met with many members of a smaller, denominational church we have partnered with in town. in pursuit of joining with them, we had an open meeting sharing why we wanted to join, and explaining that though it meant sacrifice on both parts, we believed joining as one was essential for the pursuit of the kingdom in santa cruz. during the course of the night, person after person from their small church came up to share why they thought joining together was essential. each one kept pointing to God's larger purpose in all of this, to the mission of seeing people of all ages, from all backgrounds and experiences, welcomed and loved in the way of Jesus. i was near tears for most of it, i just couldnt believe it. its all of these encounters, and many more, that give me hope.

re-reading this, i may be viewed as an eternal optimist, someone not in tune with the suffering or the "reality" of the world around me. this is not true and the darkness and brokeness of the world is often laid heavy on my heart and i have wrestled, especially these last months, with my place in being a small part of a redemptive movement to help this dark and dying world. but i figure i can wallow in the reality of the broken all the time, or i can allow it to touch me and affect me and permeate me to an extent and then chose to recognize that the only force for change that offers any actual hope or real change or absolute redemption is the saving power of our creator chosing us and love us and pursuing us with unrelenting, uncompromised, and unbelievable passion. and if it is my aim to be part of that force, then i can't help but see hope.

mystics and relvolutionaries

in the midst of my almost incessant thinking about how to affect change in the world, i began reading/continued reading "the wounded healer" by henri nouwen. its never a linear journey through a book for me, i have these problems.

i don't even want to try to explain his wisdom and insights, i will just leave a quote to express where my heart rests currently on the issue:

"it is my growing conviction that in jesus the mystical and the revolutionary ways are not opposites, but two sides of the same human mode of experiential transcendence [he has early argued that modern humanity is searching for meaning through experiential transcendence in a mystical way or in a revolutionary way, as two totally separate pursuits]. i am increasingly convinced that conversion is the individual equivalent of revolution. therefore, every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change. no mystic can prevent himself from becoming a social critic, since in self-reflection he will discover the roots of a sick society. similarly, no revolutionary can avoid facing his own human conditions, since in the midst of his struggle for a new world, he will find he is also fighting his own reactionary fears and false ambitions"

death

i had a dream last night that my brother died. it was the most helpless feeling, he had been there, cracking jokes, laughing, being his normal little brother self. then just gone. gone. i woke up with tears on my face and desperation.

death has felt present these last months, and though its always everywhere, right now, i feel like its right here. not ominous. just present.

both my grandmothers face it simultaneously. one, sick for 20 years with diabetes and all the ways its tearing her body apart. she is scared to die, scared to leave her husband, scared she will miss out on life here. she knows she will be with God when she goes and wants more than anything for her whole family to be with Him. she prays all the time for my family, she says. though she believes in heaven, she is scared to die. the other, sick for the last few years from the effects of smoking since she was 12, is not scared to die, but is not letting go easily. one moment, she will be ready to let go, refusing to eat and drink. the next, she wants to go to the hospital for an iv. her daughters don't know how she wants to die. she wants more than anything for the whole family to believe in God and be together in heaven. she prays every night for my sister, brother, dad.

my mothers co-worker recently died, inexplicably. she was in her 30's, a preschool teacher. they closed the preschool last week one day for the funeral. they dont know what happened.

a bicyclist was killed on a major road in town a few weeks ago. a semi-truck, a wrong turn. and he is gone.

a few months ago, a friend lost a sibling to suicide. his art hangs on our coffeehouse walls, reminding us of potential we think was cut short in his decision... perhaps of potential realized just in time. i could not understand my friends pain until last nights dream. now in the smallest ways, its present, next to me.

what of death tasted and then retreating? before last nights dream, my roommate and i had talked about near-death experience... the "unconditional love" some say they feel in the moments when faced with death. 90 minutes in heaven, one pastor claims, is what he experienced before returning back to live out the rest of his days having tasted the ultimate unknown.

one of our pastors revels in reminding us, in an oddly endearing way, that when we see the elderly people who come mondays and fridays to use our church building, that all of us will be there someday, will all someday pass away.

its the only guarantee we have of anything, beyond our birth.

after her co-workers death, my mother spoke with someone close to us who reads the obituaries everyday. she does it, habitually, thinking if she knows about death enough, the age of death, the cause, perhaps she can control or understand it more or somehow get it. she feels that being older, with no more kids in the house, with many of her dreams accomplished already, with nothing to look forward to, really, that she has no purpose. and so death is all there is. and death is scary, completely unknown.

a few weeks ago, we visited one of our oldest and newest church members in the icu. she lay there, as we entered, glowing. the doctors had pulled all the machines keeping her alive. she had made this decision, she said, and was at peace with it. and she was right. peace, peace. just peace. so simple and uncomplicated. she was facing the biggest unknown, the thing most of us fear the most and she was doing it with confidence. i am not sure i had seen such beauty. we got to spend a few moments with her on one of her last days on earth, praying with her, touching her hand. she passed the next week. her daughters told us the doctors commented that they never see people die with such peace and dignity like she did.

i am not sure what to think if this all. death still elludes me. what it will be like. what it will feel like. but i think i know how i want to go. with peace and confidence. dignity. unafraid.

addiction....

...is so fascinating to me, which sounds terrible because it destroys everything it touches. but i think it explains a lot about god.

addiction messes up your pleasure centers- once you have indulged in an addictive behavior enough, a chemical reaction (or something like that) happens in you and it begins to tell the pleasure center of your brain that you can only be happy if you are doing that behavior. and the desire in us to access the pleasure center that allows us happiness is an extremely powerful drive. so when its messed up and reprogrammed, things are not good. once those chemicals mess with your pleasure center, stopping your brain from thinking that drinking/having sex/shooting up/working/shopping/eating/(insert addiction here) is not the center of all your happiness is nearly impossible.

which makes sense.

god asks us to be extreme sometimes. and sometimes he asks us to walk the line between two extremes. sometimes he tells us its better to be in the middle than go too far one way. the fact that our brains are basically wired for moderation makes me feel like god is real. because he made our bodies and brains in line with his ways. he knows its not good for us to overindulge in certain things of this earth because he knows the only thing we can really overindulge in and never come away sick or addicted or broken from is pursuing him and his kingdom in a healthy way. he jealously wants our whole selves and has created our brains in a way that we must moderate what exactly we put inside of us and what we surround ourselves with. when we don't, something inside us becomes broken.

but what's even better about God is that when we often fail to keep ourselves from extremity and addiction (because we are all addicted to many things, if we think about it honestly), he still redeems us. still heals us. still picks us up off the ground and teaches us to keep walking.

there is no place more comfortable for me than in an aa meeting. its the environment i grew up in, the aa crowd, and i loved it so much. these people know brokenness, failure, destitution, the view from the bottom. but that much more, they know mercy, forgiveness, humility, grace. they are the realest group of people i know. i wish the church was more like them in seeing the deep brokenness we all carry around, admitting it as a reality openly and still getting up everyday and facing life with the belief that we can be redeemed.

what recovering addicts know is how to live out of their broken state. when we can truly learn to live out of our broken state, we can truly learn the meaning of humility. and in humility, grace.

keeping up with the mrs. jones'

i had a dream last night that i was eaten alive by fruit flies. i was married and trying to help console a friend in the middle of the night. upon returning to my bed and my husband, i discovered a trail of ants in the sheets that suddenly turned into fruit flies and attacked me, biting and itching until there was no more of me left. it was those little tiny things that killed me. i woke up disturbed, the light outside still dark.

before sleep last night, i spent a glamorous night on the town with ten beautiful women for a birthday party. all fancied up with our high heels on, we were the epitome of youth and beauty and vibrance. well, they were. in comparison to so much womanhood, i felt like a little girl pretending. too skinny, too awkward, not the right outfit, the wrong hair and a bad sexy face (you will have to ask them about that), how did i fit in? one of them, newly married mrs jones, explained her engagement and marriage to me. she is just my age, i think, but seemed so much more in stature and confidence. as i looked around, i felt each woman, single, married or dating, held such beauty in who they were, unique and exuberant, all their outsides communicated an easy grace and a fitting in. i will feel this way from time to time, and more so as i get older... but last night, in comparison, i did not.

and its that little thing of comparison that's been killing me, i realize. in comparison to women who are married, i am alone. in comparison to people who have travelled extensively, i am static. in comparison to my college friends, i am a square. in comparison to the adventurous, i am mundane. in comparison to the brave, i am weak and fearful. in comparison to the on-the-town, i am at home. in comparison to the real missionaries, i am comfortable.

in these comparisons, life sometimes feels a race where i didnt realize we were supposed to leave the start line awhile ago.



but, in the grand narrative, the real reality, i am not responsible to be anyone other than what i am. in all this comparison, i am losing sight of this person, this girl, this woman my creator intended. in comparison, i have tried to acquire things and ways that i am not.

i am not eaten alive by small things, but they are itching at me.

redemption on a bad day

a ministry of redemption is what she says i have and i like the way that feels to say. its what i find myself saying to people who bring me stories of sorrow and brokenness... that God redeems all things. its the path of my understanding about God's will and plan-- that despite all our wondering and planning and seeming wrong turns, He redeems all things. its what i turn to in deep sadness, when i can't find reason-- the promise of once redemption, present redemption, redemption to come.

i began the day today so badly. a night prior just so caught in my head and held down. getting stuck on stupid projects forever and not satisfied with any part of life. restless sleep and a morning of guilty bad mood and sore feet, i was not ready for anything at 2pm but sleep and nothing.

but then came a sunny meeting at starbucks about the darkest of things ready for redemption by the people called for times like this, which is always. a set of agreements follow and we find ourselves with a decision and direction we didnt know would come so soon. and its all fallen into place, suddenly and unexpectedly. a bad day redeemed.

all these edges of something i keep expecting to find under my feet and in front of me seem to point towards an 8 conclusion. This month, i celebrate 7 years since i stepped into this life of following Jesus. July 2000, everything changed- it was the start of a new millennium for our world and it was the start of my new life. Now, seven years later, i find myself on the cusp of something new, a new way of relating to and loving and living for the God who never seems to run out of ways to surprise me. Joann says 7 represents sabbath and 8 is new, ready, fresh. this seems right.


http://notforsalecampaign.org/
http://www.concerttoendslavery.com/

rounding out the top 10...

6. though dad had to endure the brunt of the downside of these, i love long car rides. more, i love long stretches of nothingness. so many hours were spent sitting a car or plane, staring, thinking, not thinking, reading, listening, writing. its my little busy bodies only way to rest sometimes and i felt so glad to just have so many long stretches of this nothing. what makes these so perfect are that the scenery as you stared felt out of a dream and made your thoughts different, roaming, expansive, but also familiar, close.


7. heaven was rolling into queenstown on day 13, after a million stops in smaller towns to see the sites and have some site-specific adventures (town of 500 for glacier hiking in the pouring rain, anyone?). situated by a lake and surrounded on all sides by dramatic dark mountains, the nighttime view of queenstown was beautiful- serene and exciting all at once. but the moment became better when we woke up the next morning to find that we were actually living in a postcard. The colors and views and perfection of this townhouse in this town were almost too much. The lake was sprawling, rivaled only by the horizon filled with green, lush mountains and more mountains beyond them, set right next to the snowcapped peaks as seen in the LOTR trilogy (yes, literally, it was those mountains). everyday, we couldnt get enough of this scenery and marvelled each morning as if it were the first time seen.


8. there a things you think you always want to do and when you finally do them, realize how much they were both not what you expected and more than what you expected. balloon rides at sunrise are one of them.

not what i expected: the frigid morning air to be so refreshing; the stupid things that i said to the attractive assistant due to extreme fatigue ("it was so cold, it was like negative zero!", "do you need training to professionally drive a jet boat at high speeds?"); the deeply affecting fear that seized me as our balloon effortlessly and silently ascended into the air to 6,000 feet, giving us views that cannot be recounted, but terrorizing my overactive mind that kept imagining the fall we could easily take should we chose; the descent to landing's silence, that it was perfectly placed and barely missed power lines and a major roadway

more than i expected: seeing everything you could want to see in perfect clarity, in brilliant light, in a thousand colors and tones and hues, for miles and miles and miles, it seems to be expected, but its so much more.

9. in my attempt at health and working off the large amount of (suprisingly quality) food we consumed, i joined my siblings and dad for a run around the lake one morning. we began at the same pace and that maintained for about 6 minutes before i began to get winded and slow down. my dad and i stayed together while my (surprisingly tall) brother and sister raced ahead. soon enough, though, my dad outpaced me. so there i was, my younger siblings and dad (with a knee injury) were out of site and my chest burned and ached from the run. between gasps and walking breaks, i experienced moments of awe and disbelief at my surroundings, again too beauitful for words. The music was perfect in my ears again, jose gonzales this time. as soon as i reached the towns edge and my family passed me up again after having gone farther into town, i stopped trying and just walked a long walk home. i practiced the presence of my god and tried to talk to Him like this would be my 'quiet time', but it felt wrong.

you are with me all the time, i said to him, and i feel wrong trying to make it seem like now is the only time.

i am with you all the time, you see, He said, and i already know your thoughts. ok?

ok.

so we were with each other, in all this perfection, both listening and seeing all the same things. deep back into nothing, then lingering and skipping around, my thoughts just rested in this presence. in there, i was deeply content.



10. the last night of our trip was a night on the town. my sister, brother and i went to a bunch of bars and clubs and as they slowly drank the night away, i was bored, glad to be sober, annoyed at the drunken culture, increasingly worried about them at best making a mess of themselves or at worse, getting into varying levels of trouble. though stable in my choice not to drink, i felt the like the bland, deadweight sidekick and i never thought things would look up until we made it to the last bar, which had karaoke and hundreds of people our age. the night turned around completely after we made friends with a group of canadians, then a couple australian girls, one brit boy from bath and a dreadlocked spanish/british dancer from scotland and we felt part of this transient family of friends. the high point hit when the karaoke singers had the whole bar belting out "wonderwall" and the high point sustained for about 2 hours as the whole bard turned into a giant dance floor, with us somehow in the middle. from my sober standpoint, i avoided the embarassing confusion of drunken dancing and socializing, but i did dance and dance and dance and made friend and laughed and sang till my voice cracked. when all was said and done, 4am rolled around and i felt alive.

new zealand top 5 so far

Top 5 highlights so far, in no particular order:

1. the moment before we dropped into a mile long zip line across two huge, green mountains with a stunning view of the bright blue coastline and emerald farmlands. Four of us strapped into a crazy cylinder swing in the open air, our quiet, mischievous tour guide counted to 3 and then we were speeding out into the middle of nothing, at 77kph, the views unreal, the views like nothing you can compare to anything. My face bright with cold and painful from the smiling and screaming. Our shadow on the tree tops grew smaller the farther we went on the zipline and the realization of certain death should we fall mixed with the shear amazing ness of the surroundings created a tight, pounding pit in my stomach. We giggled the entire way.

2. Speeding through the same zipline mountains on a 4 wheeler, mud splashing all over from the puddles and rivers we crossed, feeling the vehicle i am on pull me back and forth around the twists and turns, feeling the tom boy i was when i was little surge in me and scream with excitement and joy. Passing crowds of sheep and ducks in the green rolling shire setting, seeing the sweet black and white sheep dog chasing us through the water and barking like we were his. Around and around and around, we did this forever and it was just right.

3. Riding a jet boat out into the sea, we headed for Abel Tasman national park for a 3 day hike/kayak. I listened to Milosh, some obscure techno/ambient band from goodness knows where, supplied by a person with far better musical taste than i, and we saw a few dolphins cruising in our wake. I was happy for this, as we had missed our whale watching trip a couple days earlier, due to bad weather. Suddenly, though, the boat guides turned directions and headed off our course and we saw what seemed to be tiny waves and tiny fins grow and grow until we were in and among hundreds and hundreds of dolphins. The music swelled, as if perfectly sound tracked for this moment. Piano played perfectly in time with the dolphins leaping all around and no one on the boat could talk, its all too beautiful to say anything. And i just listened, the voice to the music sang to me “oh, i love it here, i hope it goes my way, i'm trying to do something beautiful,” and to every side of me, the dolphns, they leaped, close, close, you can almost touch. 2, 5, 10, 17, 23, i gave up counting, and they swam in perfect time with us and almost knew, yes yes, we are beautiful, we are right here, we are here for you. It did not last moments, a full 10-12 minutes, we just raced with them and they let us have their beauty.

4. After a long and satisfying day of boating and hiking in the Abel Tasman and then waiting on a shore where the tide came in about 2 inches a minute toward us and then walking into the freezing water to a boat waiting to take us across this approaching water, we found ourselves on the opposite shore, climbing toward green and a warm light, the lodge we would stay in that night. When it all came into focus, it was the most perfect, ideal house i have seen in so long, done in the style of victorian era, maybe, but it was all new and just perfect. The warm light it gave just piercing me after such cold and everything inside it just so perfect, huge coaches, clean kitchen, simple bedrooms, cozy nooks, family pictures of the owners, a jack Russell terrier skipping around with a red bandanna on his neck. I kept saying, this place is perfect, this place is perfect. The yard went right to the edge of a small cliff that jutted down into the beach, green grass, perfectly enclosed, with a wrap around porch, and paths leading to perfect reading spots and a view of the perfect skyline, ocean, mountains, sky, forever.

5. Day 2 of Abel Tasman, the 2nd lodge, sitting in front of the fire, taking in “What is the What”, my sister leaning against me, reading “People”, my brother to the other side, reading “Popular Mechanics.” Everyone else scattered on the coaches, everything quiet and peaceful, us warm to the frosty outside, seriously resting, seriously contented.

There is more, just you wait.

there is this thing waiting for me.

i tried to avoid it for a really long time, only touching on the very edges of it and sometimes stepping in maybe for a moment, but then recoiling, realizing what it would mean to stay. but its been coming after me, slowly, around my edges, and i am both terrified and curious about what it will do to me.

i began to read "rich christians in an age of hunger" last night, a book originally written in the 1970's, but recently republished. though a few things have circumstantially changed, the message within is the same. i am only about 20 pages in, but last night it messed me up so much that i couldnt sleep. when i woke up this morning, i had a vague sense of shift in me, and upon arriving to work, where there were and are hours and hours of work and busy-ness waiting for me, i let what i felt last night slip away.

a few hours ago, i realized the church was having its monthly clothes closet and food pantry in the gym. i had promised roberta and bill that i would visit to check things out. in the 18 or so months we have had our offices here at mission st, i have stepped foot in to that ministry maybe twice. honestly, i avoided it and wanted to avoid it today. but i made myself go over there, because i knew i needed to.

entering, i knew i would have to see things that made me uncomfortable. the smell of unshowered was there, mixed with mass produced food and sweat. i felt immediately like an imposter there, like someone pretending to understand. i wanted to find a face i knew, so i slipped back into the kitchen and there was roberta. she welcomed me and then took dessert back out to the gym, leaving me alone again. i wished i could be hiding back in my office upstairs, safe. i followed her back in there and then went to char, who was helping to organize and watch the clothes tables. after chatting with her for awhile, i realized i was completely ignoring the 50 people who sat eating quietly in the gym, who were here needing. but who was i to think i had anything to offer?

during the course of the next hour, i pushed myself to make conversation with some of the people there. initially, i was terrified to put myself out there to them, thinking they would reject me and find my privilege an insult. instead, they let me slip in to adjoining seats and ask simple questions and laugh with them, listening, and trying to relate. i am no saint, having nothing to offer them except my ears and my heart, to try to understand them. some were happy to chat, others put off, lots in between. at one point, allen and harry, a couple of characters who called a camp in the woods home, began teasing michele and her husband tom. they were obviously all close, family. michele told me not to believe any of them. they laughed around, knowingly, teasing. there was a lot just below michele's eyes and she was forcing herself not to show anyone.

then, a beautiful woman about my age came in, long hair and freckles and strong. she carried lyla, 2 or 3 years old and adorable. this woman began chatting with michele and tom, telling them she was done with finals and was about to begin working as a medical assistant. she chased lyla, laughing with allen and harry as they teased her about being a kid wrangler. i asked how they knew each other and michele told me "from the streets." i watched them interacting and it was so natural, except the woman was working, rising, living outside of their world. how she went from "the streets" to being a mother and student and now a professional, i didnt know, but wanted to ask so badly. i excused myself and after speaking with some of the other leaders, i found myself drawn back up here, to my desk, having to "get back to work."

but i dont know that i can do much else today, cause my heart feels both empty and disgusted, and full and ready. i have always been drawn to want to help "make a difference" in the world around me, always wanted to be part of some social change that was tangible and real. and i love that my job is in "ministry" where i can be part of local church, where out heart beats for the mission of drawing closer to God and helping others draw close to him, too. this is not necessarily a profitable or glamorous place, though we do all make a living at it and there is a weird little celebrity that develops when you are up in a front a few hundred people every week. regardless, i know that what i do makes a difference and thats a gift i must always be reminded to thank God for.

in that vein, i am beginning to feel and wonder if part of what happens when you are in church leadership is that you become a barometer of sorts. if your own journey with God begins to take twists and turns that change and mature your way of viewing the world, perhaps that becomes an indicator of where the ministry will begin to go. not to say ministry should be run by personalities, but when you are part of helping to make decisions for a church community, your can't help but allow your heart and your passions to influence what decisions you make and where you want to direct your energies.

next to my bed, the following books are scattered:

good news and good works
rich christians in an age of hunger
the irresistible revolution
the revolution: a field manual for changing your world
how people grow
the inner voice of love

their words are permeating me, slowly, surely. i can't get away from what they speak into me and i can't get away from the feeling that there is so much more to understand, to be, to know. there is something waiting for me in them, beyond them. i could not be more terrified or relieved.

part monk, part two

the first night became simply wonderful in its simplicity. my fear dissipated after i contented myself to eat and read and fall asleep early. the meal was wonderful, just so simple and healthy. i sat at the desk provided and saw myself in the windows reflection, eating alone, and it was comforting to know that i was capable of this. i still remember the yummy bread i ate and the soup tasting so good. i spent the rest of the night finishing c.s. lewis' "the great divorce" which is basically now one of my favorite books ever and it only took me about 4 years to get through, with multiple stops and starts. i fell into a deep sleep and couldnt get up until about 9:30am, which was hard, since i missed the 7am service i had planned on attending. but my body wanted this sleep, craved it. it found opportunity to rest and forced my mind to let it be. i got up, got breakfast, read some more in my backyard, which was basically amazing, the view was unreal.

the 2nd service, the 11:30am "Eucharist", was a little easier to feel part of, since i had been to one already. this time one of the monks gave a message, which i cant remember the content of, except i remember thinking how different his perspective on life must be as one who lives in this kind of community and has committed to such a unique lifestyle, different than most american's will ever know. i was mostly struck by his sincerity and honesty. and i felt safe.

we then gathered into the adjacent circular simple room with the beautiful wood ceiling and cross and took Eucharist. it felt so sacred, and everyone took it very seriously and solemnly. as some of the monks sang and prayed and read from an ancient looking book, i felt like something weighty and holy was about to happen. i cant remember all the details, i waited too long to record this, but i do know i remember seeing them hold the bread and wine up, face turned into the natural light beaming down from the center of the ceiling, praying and acknowledging this holy act. we all lined up and one by one, took the bread from one of the monks, who told us as we bowed to the bread, "this is Christ's body, broken for you." we then went on to the next monk holding wine, which we bowed before, as he told us "this is Christ's blood, shed for you" and we sipped the real wine, so strong and smelling so rich.

as i walked away from the church, having taking communion with 22 monks and a handful of retreatants, it occurred to me that they do this every single day. i could see it feeling "special" even once a week, but every day, wow. they seemed to still have such reverence for it, such special attention paid, while i think once a month sometimes feels too often.

the afternoon was spent reading "how we are hungry" by dave eggers at the nearby beach and park, drifting in and out of sleep, the wind blowing, warm and cold, sunlight and clouds. little details felt significant and wonderful during this time. i found myself missing my parents cat for some reason when i was at the beach, and when i wandered over to the bookstore later on, a cat lay sprawled on the deck and we hung out. i have a deep love for cookies, and that cookie jar was always full in the monks kitchen. i took a shower and the water warm on my sandy cold skin was just about the best feeling i could have asked for.

the 2nd evening "vespers" spoke the most deeply to me, as i was really struggling to connect in a real way to God. working in ministry, i feel like i am saturated in "God" stuff, and connecting to it as if it were so "other" feels impossible, because of its seeming familiarity and my ability to somehow assume that the mystery of God can become mundane. as we sung, i didnt connect to the words, but the passion with which they were sung meant something to me. and as we ventured to spend another 30 minutes in silence, i began practicing some of the stuff yancey mentions in his new book "prayer"--

intentionally recognizing God's perspective and position as being all-seeing, all-knowing, the creator over all

intentionally recognizing ourselves as being part of His creation and not the ones who know it all... basically admitting our helplessness

intentionally thanking Him for creating and loving us and recognizing all He has done for us.

intentionally asking for His help in all the things we need Him for (basically everything)

And in doing this, slowly, bit by bit, i began to feel something wash over me. But it was so slow. I had felt this before, in little flashes, over the years. i just dont slow down enough to let it stay. here i was, though, in silence, with others in silence. and this was the time and place to begin trying. and so it happened that i felt God there, again, in the deepest part of my soul, realizing He never really leaves, and He never not listens. i just often cant sense these subtle things in all my rushing.

i imagined him, in front of me, taking my face into his hands - "i love you, kristin, i love you." and not that then he was next to me, but in me. and we spent time in silence there.

after, i got up and took a walk, sensing His presence that is never absent but often ignored, and we talked. i told him everything He already knew. it just felt good to say it out loud for some reason. and he showed me things.

the rest of the visit remained at the simple, slow pace i had settled into. i wandered the bookstore and bought things to help me be reminded. i met with a monk named john who understood and talked and prayed with me, just like any friend on this journey. i drove away sad to leave, but so grateful that i had had this here. i hope to carry this place around with me for the rest of my life.

part monk

last week, i had the privilege of visiting a monastery in the hills of big sur. it came on a recommendation from what i like to call my "life coach", which is a funny way of referring to one of our school of theology teachers who i have met with a few times seeking counsel about my ever elusive "future plans" and what i am going to do with my life. he teaches a class at Berkeley for college kids who are trying to figure out what to do with their lives and about what vocation and "calling" really is... its not a "religious" class, but he weaves scripture and christian themes into it and is teaching an abbreviated version for our community this summer. he had told me about his retreat experience at this monastery about a month ago and i wanted to try it out. i got it in my mind that i needed to do something like this, however against my nature it seemed. so i called. though it usually has a 6 month wait to get a room, i got a booking within a few weeks. last wednesday drove up there in search of the "contemplative" life.

in the weeks building up to my trip to the New Camodoli Hermitage (http://www.contemplation.com/) i was feeling an uncomfortable pull on my heart and energy from my job and the community i serve with. as a staff member and leader in a local church, its easy to take on this "role," which is hard to find words for, but for me, it feels like in my role, i am identified as an unending source of information and connection in our community. which most times is very fun for me and gives me energy and life. but as with most roles, you can't live in them at all times and if you have to stay in them too long, you begin to resent them, to try and wiggle your way out, to escape. and this would be easy, if i had a regular 9-5...if the church community didnt mean so much to me.... if part of my own heart and faith experience weren't so wrapped up this church. i am sure most pastors and church staff feel this to a degree and i am not articulating it half as well as some, but all this to say that i had been feeling pulled at, and needed, and pretty much sucked dry by the time i was ready to head out to the monastery last wednesday.

i was told to imagine that as i drove the coast towards my destination, the hands reaching for me here were just falling away one by one. so i did that, and i felt free... me and the coast and the broken social scene soundtrack and no grasping or needing.

I was late getting there. the sign came just after lucia and i made my way for 2 miles up a perfect windy road and even the smallest signs of towns and worlds dropped away and it felt like i was driving up into somewhere that doest really exist.

the monastery is on a hillside and is simple. they had left a map for me on the bookstore door and i found my way to my room, part of a 60's looking building perched perfectly so every room had an enclosed back yard and an ocean view. i had an hour until the night service began and so i unpacked a bit, and read all the little notes all over the place, which instructed on eating and the various meetings/services offered and misc details for each "retreatants" stay. we were to be in silence everywhere except the bookstore and the driveway, to respect those on silent retreats. my first instinct was to mention this to someone around me and talk about how amazing it was to have this vow of silence sort of forced on you. but, there was no one with me and of course, there was that vow.

On the wall next to the bed was a framed sign that said "St Romulauds Brief Rule" and i read it and felt something wash over me.

i went into the communal kitchen, which was so endearing and cozy, with a sign "SILENCE: be still and know that I am GOD".... look how cozy and adorable this place is, i thought, with all the little notes and the food stocked and a jar of cookies! again, no one to tell this to. everyone gets a set of dishes and utensils to eat in their rooms and they can eat as they wished-- "well thats a good idea," i thought, "isn't that a great-" and i was then immediately faced with the fact that no one but me and God got to hear my thoughts for the next 2 days. i was temporarily filled with anxiety about this and felt so alone, i wanted to cry.

the 6pm service, i think called "vespers", began in this simple, warm church, which was also a place of silence except for singing and the monks leading the service. i entered late and it smelled of that lovely oil candle smell, kind of like a catholic church. it was warm and quiet, save for the melodic, monotonous sound of the singing. i noticed everything, drank everything in, couldnt stop staring at the details and the setting and the people. it was not out of the ordinary by the way it looked, but by the way it made me feel. i picked up a book to follow with the songs and couldnt find my place. i felt everyone looking at me and got red and embarrassed. one of the monks came over to help me find my place and so i fell into line. i couldnt engage my mind with the service except when we would bow to sing the last part of every song. it was so different than anything i had experienced before, i felt overwhelmed.

after the singing, we all filed into the adjacent room, which was round, and beautiful, warm wood walls, with a cross suspended from the center and simple pads and pillows to sit on. everyone bowed to the cross as they entered. everyone circled up on the edges. an old monk, one of the oldest, came from another side room, arms extended high up over his bent, aging back, his white robe hanging off of his thin frame, holding a small icon of what i assumed was jesus. everyone stood for a second and then somehow, all knew to sit down at the same time and get comfortable. 30 minutes of silence followed.

i couldn't stop watching everyone, so curious about what they were thinking and processing. i finally went inside my own self and found i could not be still. i drifted in and out of prayer, i felt a quick sense of peace, and then fear, loneliness, wonder. i fell asleep for a bit. i watched, waited. nothingness. quiet. time felt so long. it went on forever. surely its been an hour and i kept waiting for them to stop us, how could they let this go so far over the allotted 30 minutes? and more waiting finally, they tapped a round bowl that left a soft ringing sound for about 30 seconds. everyone then got up slowly, exited, bowing to the cross as they left.

i was lightheaded, going back to my room, noticing the dramatic, unreal views of the big sur coastline along the driveway. i went into my room, warm and easy from the windy, chaotic outside. the clock read 7. the silence had only been 30 minutes. and it was only 7.

what would i do with myself til i would drift to sleep in silence?

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.