Live the Mystery

Out of It-Ville

2007-09-21T13:53:00.000-07:00

Alright...go ahead. Get it out of your system. Just remember this while you are laughing so hard at my utter coolness:

I am willing to bet that while some of you are appalled, there are those of you impressed at my courage to face ultimate embarrassment. I have made peace with my teal, ill-fitting sweater and rhinestone accouterments. The rather expansive area of my forehead along with a lack of acne made it prime advertising space for those who could not afford billboards.

I fondly call this time of my life the "Culinary Hair Era." The hot dog bangs are a perfect topping to my waffle-iron, ripened wheat-colored locks. This was not my intent, however. I wanted to look like Keri Russell a la Felicity fame. I wanted ringlets and it never turned out that way! Though for some stupid reason, I kept getting "home perms." That was the thing to do in 1992...

The problem was...that that picture was taken in 1993 or 1994. I was a year or two behind the trends and fads. Hence my citizenship in Out of it-Ville. I think that I would have been completely mortified and dejected, unable to show my ice-skating rink of a forehead in public ever again, but, incredibly, I didn't feel that way at the time. All of my friends were in Out of it-Ville. I would gaze longly at Init Land, but honestly, can any of us say that it would have been worth it without our friends...our real friends?

When I sit with a teen and talk about life, I find that almost all of them feel like they are in Out of It-Ville, even if they are perceived as popular by their peers. Maybe they feel like that in their family, or they are holding tenuously onto relationships that aren't really as wonderful as they look to everyone else.

I am sure you all had your own "Culinary Hair" phase...or at least something like it, right?

new beginnings

2007-08-23T13:52:00.000-07:00

Though my quiet entrance back into the blogosphere will likely go unnoticed, I feel compelled to update the cyberworld on my ever-changing life.

I remember swearing that I would never work in a church, but here I am, a youth director and loving it.

I call my office "the tower" when I am feeling like a princess, the "hole" when I am feeling isolated or "John's office" if I am feeling especially nostalgic. This little square of a room tucked back into the recesses of an fortress of a church used to be home to thousands of CDs and more Star Wars paraphanelia than one thought existed. Yoda with a straw coming out of his back, a storm trooper pez dispenser and the like. I kept the pez and the weird sphere thing where Darth Vader sat and now still sits...oh wait, he fell backwards...hang on, can't have that.

*returns the cape-clad action figure to his previously menacing position*Alright, now all is right with the universe...or not.

I am typing furiously, every thought that will come to my brain about mentoring young people. You see, I was one of those kids who fell through the cracks and spent most of my teenage and college years trying to figure out how get myself back "in it." That is, if I was ever "in it" in the first place. I am determined to do everything I can to not set our teens up to fail. Stay tuned, we are going to visit Init land as well as the not so flashy, but much larger Outofit-ville.

Maybe the force be with me!*Princess Amy knocks Darth Vader from his throne and does it without a horrifying hairdo that reminds her of a breakfast roll*

The Twilight Zone Episode #39: "Journey Beyond Absurdity"

2006-12-23T12:48:00.000-08:00

Prepare yourself...this one is a doozy.

T'was three days before Christmas and all through the land,
not a traveler was stirring since airline travel was banned.

The children were nestled in uncomfortable airport chairs
with visions of their tree across the country and its festive wares.

Teddy the drag queen in his crown and I with my book
Had just settled on a bus bound for Colorado, by hook or by crook.

Yes...I just said drag queen. Not only that, but Teddy is the reigning "Empress of Chicago" who does the most incredible Whitney Houston/Celine Dion/Billie Holliday/Dionne Warick/Carol Channing impersonations I have ever seen.

Only I would end up sitting by a transgendered lounge singer.

The characters made the trip. My faithful companions who had been displaced days earlier kept me sane throughout our many adventures. Karl was a young South African studying to be a mechanical engineer. He spent most the trip making witty comments worthy of an Englishman. Lynnette and Melissa were 20-something friends from Boston who spent most of the trip, like me, finding humor to be the best coping mechanism. My undying gratitude goes out to Karl, Lynnette and Melissa for making the absurd bearable.

We think that we built up bad karma on the way to Omaha. Prior to the fateful bus change, we were happy as larks. We acquired our own set of seats and would curl up at every stop in order to take a short "nap." As a result, we made it to Omaha in what I now know to be the height of comfort. Teddy the Empress was on the first bus, as was the Grizzly Bear. As a result of one man's intense snoring habit, Teddy bequeathed him his title. Once he woke up we wished that his loud, crude self would have stayed in hibernation. These were nothing compared to the leg of the trip Karl fondly entitled, "When Hell Froze Over."

We unloaded our bus and traipsed through the bustling streets of Omaha. I believe that we bumped into one whole person the entire way to the pizza place and all he wanted was money. After a great meal, we rushed back to the station to get in line to carry out our master plan to have our own sections again.

The station was brimming with people who were periodically yelled at by a rent-a-cop with a serious power trip. Our departure time came and went while we stood watching women's WWE "wrestling" on a blinking box circa 1975. Absurdity had begun.

We filed onto the bus and to our dismay there were few seats left to be had. My traveling companions and I were separated. Karl and I ended up in the back row of three right next to the "washroom" with no hand sanitizer; the mother of all misnomers. I was by the window, Karl's 6 foot frame was next to me while Harvard Kelvin's tall self sat next to the "washroom." Karl began with a crack about how Kelvin should go outside and see how many of him the temperature was. Kelvin just studied. Karl hypothesized around 267 kelvin.

We sat in the bus packed like sardines for 2 hours before we departed Omaha. Our seats did not recline and the people in front of us refused to be gracious and not crush poor Karl who now had negative leg room. I tried my best "begging for mercy" face, which only ended with the lady in front of me flipping her seat up in a violent gesture while retorting, "How about YOU work for me tomorrow then!" The guy next to her reclined his back further trapping Karl. All of this happened while we had to watch a movie named "Paulie" about a talking bird followed by a movie about a runaway gorilla. I say "had to" because though 3 am would seem to be prime time for sleeping, our driver was convinced that watching movies at full volume was a much better torture instrument than our own individual attempts to follow the present numb state of our limbs into restless oblivion. Thankfully I was deeply intrigued by a sci-fi novel about breeding child geniuses for intergalactic war.

Our driver would also stop randomly, circle parking lots, step outside for a moment and then resume "driving" only after she would briefly get stuck in a snow drift. Every shift of the gear was a low grind. The smell of the burning clutch was pungent since she never could quite find the right gear. Our bus swayed in the lanes, the hum of the engine interrupted by frequent "thunkthunkthunk" intervals when she would stray too far.

Somewhere in Nebraska the absurd level peaked. We stopped to pick up a few travelers. Karl straightened up and remarked.."so, where exactly do we intend to put them? on the roof?" Of course not, that would be silly. Three women with babies and 5 others joined us. 5 men gave up their seats and stood for the remaining 6 hours. The driver later offered the men a "reprieve", to get off at a dimly lit rest stop to wait for another bus an hour behind that had a seat. Karl and others lobbied for refunds for them. This was shot down because obviously her solution was much more accommodating.

One of those who generously gave up his seat was a young and talkative ROTC recruiter from Texas A&M. His constant ridiculous verbiage was only halted when he got tired of standing and retreated to the "washroom" for the remainder of the trip to sit...yes I said sit...and read. He said the light was better in there.

We learned to live for our rare breaks from the traveling circus. One such location provided self-heating meals. I pondered the energy source that must be included, a small nuclear reactor perhaps? I decided that if sleep had actually visited, I would had missed out on all of the completely illogical meanderings of my brain.

Through the frozen window (our defroster apparently did not work and thankfully I had my trusty Jamaican flag beach towel to keep me warm) I saw the Rockies rise above the horizon a full 24 hours after our departure from Aurora. I said goodbye to my friends and stood with my pile of stuff among the thousands of other vagrants at the Denver bus station. I paid no attention to my disheveled state and thanked God that I had survived the journey, which will be story fodder for years to come.

Moving the Picket Fence

2006-12-03T13:14:00.000-08:00

"He brought me into a spacious place..."

In context this phrase is found in 2 Samuel 22:19-21 as well as Psalm 18:18-20 are in reference to God's deliverance and rescue from impending disaster.

It is easy for me to get comfortable in my small acreage that is my sphere of life and influence. Challenges become familiar and settling in the rhythm of routine is expected. I have found that God likes to invade my neighborhood and expand my picket fence. I think sometimes I pray for it and other times, He pushes the boundaries and messes with the margins of my vision without asking.

How dare He.

I value being settled and I crave adventure. Typically my inclination runs counter to God's direction. When God is leading me on an adventurous excursion to check out the territory outside of my current territorial markers, I get anxious for my couch. When God is directing me to take care of where I have settled, I get antsy desiring to get out and explore. The most confusing part of it all is that both can be going on at the same time. God is confining me to my familiar territory in one area of my life and pushing me to expand in others.

The second part of that phrase out of 2 Samuel and Psalms is "he rescued me because he delighted in me." It seems that God deems it salvation (not to be confused with a heaven/hell limited definition) to place us in undiscovered territory that is ours, but as yet untamed. In fact, He delights to give us room to grow and expand.

His delight, however, is met by a sometimes overwhelming screech of anxiety. Tension mounts and collects in my shoulders as I realize that my trust in God will again be tested and my responsibility will increase. This is not, by any means, God's intended response. It's as if He built an addition on my house and I remain confined to the bathroom because it is decorated with that wallpaper I hate, but at least I know it.

This is His delight, should it not be apparent that God desires to walk with us in this spacious place and bless us with deeper delight as well? He walks with us, discovering with us, challenging us to meet this new wild, untamed place with confidence in His ability to direct our lives.

Give me eyes O Lord to see beauty and purpose in the spacious place. May I stand with uplifted hands facing the unfamiliar knowing that you delight in the expansion of Your kingdom on this earth. Teach me to build and to plant. Do not let fear taint the promise of rugged growth and responsive delight.

Pure Bliss

2006-12-01T06:06:00.000-08:00

I cannot even express in words that wondrous feeling that overtakes a person when they wake up to a call from a phone tree saying: "School is cancelled today due to inclement weather."

Seriously, talk about whispering sweet...somethings in my ear! I actually did a happy dance before I jumped back into bed with elation. Though my excited state did nothing for me trying to go back to sleep, it didn't really matter...because a blessed snow day had graced my presence. My neighbors scraping their vehicles and the whir of their poor wheels trying to gain traction was the soundtrack of my morning. I tried not to stare at them. Instead, I became their cheerleader to get out of the parking lot.

"Back up...that's right! gun it! gun it! GO GO GO GO. oh...bummer. Well try again, you got it, you got it...waitnodon'thitmycarohmygosh...phew. GO TEAM."

I dig sitting in the stands.

Dust Jackets

2006-11-25T16:43:00.000-08:00

Someday I will write a book. I know that typically people pick their genre, plot, characters and all of that first, but I think that the real cornerstone of the book is the author's picture.

This is especially true with self-help books, when I see a pasted smile and perfectly coiffed hair I get a little scared. Maybe that is why I don't have any books like that. I think that I appreciate the artsy pensive look. I look at the dust jacket and think, "Now THAT is a serious writer."

So this is my attempt...do I look serious enough? Am I new York Times best seller material? The black and white might draw a crowd of weird bookworms that drink way too much caffeine and look up over their books and turn their nose at my obvious faux pas of mixing blacks in my outfit.

Or maybe I need to just let go and let myself be...well...me:
Maybe I could tap into the Stephen King market. I would buy my book just because of the chutzpah it took to put this on the back of it and try to sell it at Borders. I think I can see my tonsils...grody. Maybe something a little less intense...maybe with more mirth.
Not bad...though people might think I am having too much fun and not being a diligent writer. Therefore they would assume that my stuff sucks. At my book signings I would chastise people for their lack of a sense of humor...or maybe I will write a self-help book about it.

This one says, "I write...therefore I am." It also says, "I am natural, I am stylish, I don't always have to look in the camera." Though really in reality, I think that I was distracted by something coming down the bike path and didn't even know the picture was taken.

I think I have a great collection of dust jacket photos, now I just need the accoutrements..you know...story, characters and publishing. No big deal. It's all about taking care of the important things first.

Many thanks to Anna and her use of my camera!

lowercase

2006-11-10T19:26:00.000-08:00

have you ever had the spontaneous desire to type everything in lowercase?

at my work, we type a lot of things in lowercase. it's cool and artsy, i guess. that is not what i am talking about. i am talking about lowercase invading a non-marketing space. i think that i like lowercase. it's quite a struggle to write in lowercase. i have to force myself not to hit the shift key. even within this short paragraph i have had to really concentrate on not capitalizing the beginnings of sentences. it is also difficult not to capitalize names, but i have noticed that they end up looking...cute.

the largest challenge in committing myself to the lowercase dimension is not capitalizing the letter 'i.' out of every word, it seems to be the one that i least want to be diminutive. it is the one that i hesitate over. it is the one that seems to be too small to fill its space. i almost feel sorry for it, like it is not getting its due - like it has suffered a loss of identity because it has been brought low and topped with a dot that oftentimes ends up as a haphazard dash in the flurry of afterthought.

the meaning has not changed, but its change in appearance has seemed to strip it of the pride of standing alone. it has been exposed. without the declaration of individual possession, action or feeling, it has become nothing more than a letter that connects other letters in order to make the english language work. no other vowel has the power of the singular 'i.' no other consonent has the authority to presume to hold its territory in such defiance as to be able to retain capitalization in the middle of a sentence! if the letter 'w' should decide to boast in such a way it surely would be a laughing stock!

i do not want to become small. i want to be the center of a thought. i want to make my desires and actions known. i want to be the center of my own life as well as others. i want to be noticed! i want to be capitalized!

what i have failed to see is that in becoming lowercase the meaning of the word 'i' has not changed, only its posture. 'i' is special. 'i' is important. but when 'i' cannot stand to see itself exposed as the little letter that 'i' is, then i cannot understand how truly special 'i' am.

Slap Me

2006-10-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

*braces for slap on the wrist*

Yes, I know. I know I have been a bad bad blogger. Things have been insane recently and I have a feeling that no one really reads this anyway! So, I am going to start speaking again into oblivion, just because it is fun to do so!

Did it ever occur to you that that crazy dream that you think God gave you would actually come true? Do we ever stop to imagine that one day, those desires might actually come to fruition? I always thought of myself as one who would never put one past the Lord, but I guess that I overestimated myself on that point.

You see, right now I am seeing the beginning of a vision that God put in my heart 5 years ago. 5 years ago...with roots farther back than that. I never dreamed of it happening this way, but I look and I am practically paralyzed with amazement. The people that He has connected me with, the experiences and the opportunities I have had...it's so much richer and deeper than I would have planned it.

I am excited about the coming months and years. If you have no idea of what I speak of, then you really should comment so I know you still read this thing!

Wisdom

2006-06-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have been wondering what happened to me as well. All 2 of you that read this probably know me in person and know that life has been full of insane ups and downs recently. The worse thing about it is that they are uncertain ups and downs with loose ends dangling all while giving me motion sickness with all of the movement.

I get my wisdom teeth out tomorrow morning, which means I will be short something that I really need more of at this point in my life...wisdom.

I have been thinking extensively about wisdom, do I have it? If I don't, where do I get it? Is there such a thing as too much? (HA...) God says for those of us that lack it, we should ask God and He will give it to us in liberal amounts. So, my question is, why in the world do I feel so naive all of the time? I certainly ask God for wisdom on an almost ridiculously frequent basis and it seems that everything is getting more complicated by the second.

I know that I am not the only one with this issue. I hear so many tell me about how they are seeking "direction" or "God's plan." I guess getting to the heart of the matter means asking myself a difficult question:

Why am I asking for wisdom and what do I think that means that I will receive?

Am I asking to make sure I am going in the right direction? Sometimes. Am I asking because I want to know what is going on? Lots of times. Am I asking because I know God loves getting intimately involved in my life and loves talking things though with me? Most of the time. Alright, so my motive and reasons for asking are pretty sound. Where it gets sticky for me is in the fulfillment of a preconcieved expectation.

I want to feel and know that I am secure. I want to trust. I want to know things will turn out alright in the end. I want to know that my dreams will come true. I want to know that God is going to use me. I want to know that I am not messing things up with people or with things. I want to feel like I heard God correctly. I want someone to tell me that I have. I want concurrence and encouragement.

Sounds like to me I am seeking more than wisdom and the kingdom. I seem to be seeking to find my place in the kingdom and make sure that it is secure. Upon thinking further, I see that I am not as confident in my place in God's kingdom as I thought. I am pretty confident about my place in His heart, but as far as being a worker for Him, do I have what it takes? I ask for wisdom because I want to know that I am doing it right, that I performing...and if I am brutally honest...earning my keep.

Wisdom is confidence in good and gracious counsel. Wisdom says that right now I am uncomfortable in uncertainty and I want an enemy to fight or a cause to champion. Wisdom say that I need to wait and know that He will not let me fall...oh...and that He wants my dreams to come true just as much as I do because they are His dreams for my life.

Twilight Zone: Episode 27

2006-05-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night. Normal people were watching the sky turn black from the safety of their house or busily trying to get home before the imminent onslaught of precipitation.

I am not normal.

I was at the park by my house. Swinging actually. I gazed up with laissez faire fascination at the clouds coagulating and spinning. My friend offered to drive me the few hundred yards to my house. I declined. "I'll make it," I thought. So I started walking. The wind picked up and in quiet rebellion I clasped my hands behind my back and continued to walk in my cute pink flip flops.

About a hundred yards from my house the rain became to come. A large drop pelted the back of my neck, but it came with very few friends. I still remained in what I now know to be denial of the situation. People all around were scrambling for cover. As I came within about 50 meters, the inevitable downpour occurred. I took off in the closest thing to a run that my cute pink flip flops would allow.

I turn my head to see a neighbor yelling at me, "Come on! You can make it!" Yeah, well, I didn't. I was drenched with painful rain, otherwise known as hail. So close and yet so far. And by the way, my cute pink flip flops are ruined.

An hour later I got in my car and went to worship practice. It was at a guy's house that I have seen at church. I was impressed with the place and once worship started I was completely distracted.

Why? you ask. Because I couldn't take my eyes off of the walls. He had records... HIS records on the walls. Pictures of Donald Trump and his chick of the hour posing next to him at his wedding. Weird Al, Evander Holyfield, and Wayne Newton made appearances in frames as well. If that wasn't wild enough...

His wife is the reigning Mrs. United States. This guy is the pageant announcer as well! I found out later that he won an Emmy for something too. So I got to have worship practice with him.

I could have been pondering how cool it was to see that there are indeed strong Christians in the entertainment industry, but I was more fascinated by his techy gadget that could transpose music on the spot.

Welcome to my Twilight Zone.

MONKEY BUTT!!!

2006-05-08T17:18:00.000-07:00

Be like me...

Take a Wednesday night out of your busy schedule, throw on a cocktail dress and attend a mock wedding.

Actually, my part was actually the mock reception.

Basically, my friend who works for a photographer asked me if I would join her in the studio above theirs, which is a photography school. They do these week long courses on things like photoshop, photojournalism and this week was wedding photography. To give their students the best and most realistic training, they stage a full on wedding complete with little kids, a table with place settings, and costuming. Around 15 or so photographers are milling around taking pictures of EVERYTHING.

The "bride" was wearing a beautiful dress, but since it was from the studio apparently it has been worn one too many times. It had to be masking taped closed in the back. During the "reception," She got a little too jiggy with it and the masking tape bust open...ha...good pun considering it was a strapless dress! No worries...she caught it in time.

My friend and I were extras for the reception. So basically our job was to be the fly girls...er...I mean the dancers in the background. So we danced. Well, we did what you could call dancing I guess. It was actually me spinning her around in circles over and over again while the cameras were flashing everywhere. At one point one of the "flower girls" who was about four came up to me and with outstretched arms she said, "spin me!" So I did...in heels. I almost slipped several times. She came up to me again later with outstretched arms and said, "dance with me!"

Yes, ma'am. So I picked her up and we started dancing. She squealed with delight and then she proceeded to yell at the top of her lungs. Not in an upset sort of way, but in what I can only construe as her wacked version of delight. She yelled, "MONKEY BUTT! MONKEY BUTT! MONKEY BUTT!"

My friend: Is she yelling "monkey butt?"

Me: Yes. My arms are tired. Here.

Then I passed her off to my friend who was now holding a small child who was still screaming "MONKEY BUTT!" with great excitement.

Paint the Town Red on Friday Night

2006-04-21T20:35:00.000-07:00

Be like me:

On a Friday evening, ditch getting a date to hang out at a monastery with a monk for voluntary research purposes. While you're at it, go to a vespers populated by an abbey full of monks, a random guy who couldn't figure out where to sit and cute old lady who was practically hugging her rosary.

Magnificat anima mea Dominum;
Et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo,
Quia respexit humilitatem ancillae suae; ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes.
Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est, et sanctum nomen ejus,
Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam brachio suo;
Dispersit superbos mente cordis sui.
Deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit humiles.
Esurientes implevit bonis, et divites dimisit inanes.
Sucepit Israel, puerum suum, recordatus misericordiae suae,
Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros, Abraham et semeni ejus in saecula.

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Latin rocks my world. Just in case you were wondering, this is the Magnificat

And for those of you less spiritual...

Quidquid latine dictum sit altum viditur

(hee hee...)

Shattered Pieces

2006-04-01T14:15:00.000-08:00

*Dedicated to the broken women all over the world that sell themselves because they know of no other way.

My heart is broken!
My heart is broken!
The shattered pieces fall
An open wound
Agony and sorrow
The shattered pieces they fall
Wilted petals
Hidden teardrops
My heart is broken!
My heart is broken!
The shattered pieces they fall
But they do not fall to the ground
Caught before the dirt
Saved from aimless feet
My heart is broken!
But the shattered pieces do not fall to the ground.

Her heart is broken!
Her heart is broken!
The shattered pieces fall
Innocence lost
Love at a price
The shattered pieces they fall
Sand blown from the fingers
A heart bowed in shame
Her heart is broken!
Her heart is broken!
The shattered pieces they fall
They fall to the ground
A pearl covered in dirt
Trampled by wild, momentary affection
Her heart is broken!
And the pieces have fallen to the ground.

A Nerd, of the Geek Variety

2006-03-28T10:58:00.000-08:00

I am officially a nerd...I am talking about the geek variety.

Here are my top five reasons that have brought me to the conclusion that I am, in fact, a nerd of the geek variety.

5. I order my vacations along the lines of places I can go that would benefit my current field of study. Not because I have to in order to get a grade, but because I actually like it.

4. People's faces cinch up in in response to my telling of what I study so that they look like they are sucking on a sour lemon. Hmmm...maybe if I couch it in more dapper language. Maybe if I say it like James Bond introduces himself. He is, in fact, the utter height of coolness.
"My field of study is history, church history." Nope, didn't work. You still had a lemon face didn't you?

3.14159...Yes, I know the first 6 digits of pi. I also wished people a happy "pi day" on March 14th. Now it would have gone overbard if I would have done that at exactly 1:59 in the morning or afternoon. That, I feel would have taken it too far, except I think I might have already gone too far with the inclusion of pi as part of my top 5 reasons. Actually if I included this, shouldn't I include all numbers? DANG IT!

3. I find myself laughing out loud at intellectual jokes when I am alone. Then when I am around people I, of course, do not have the presence of mind to think that they could care less. This results in a lot of headshaking and I am sure a lack of referrals for blind dates.

2. I actually sit and watch my brother play video games and create 3D graphics. I have no idea how to do such things myself, nor do I think I ever will, but I find it fascinating to sit in silence for hours on end and watch my brother manipulate little pixels.

1. Napoleon Dynamite is my cousin (somewhere along the line I am sure) and my brother is on the Geek Squad. If that isn't indicative of an ancestoral legacy of nerdness manifested in geekish tendencies I don't know what is.

The family resemblence is amazing. We have a legacy in our family of forming "geekish squads"

.5 The wording I used for number 1. is geekness personified. And also, the fact that I felt the need to put in a .5 shouts "GEEK!"

Rainbows

2006-03-17T21:00:00.000-08:00

Promises of God. A beautiful reminder of the promise that God gave to humanity. When I look up into the sky I am amazed at the colors, the mystery and the sheer desire to constantly stare at it.

Something has happened however...

Someone has stolen our rainbows...

Taken what has symbolized the promises of God and made them stand for something else...

Yeah, you know what I am talking about...

Bible Trivia. I played the children's version tonight...two rounds of it. If you are not familiar with the game, basically you take a little colored peg and move it up a rainbow on a board and answer questions for each color, things like:

NT - Otherwise known as the New Testament

HG - I thought someone attacked the word "Hug" at first, but it stands for "history and geography"

LNS - I thought this one was a drug and almost condemned the game to hell, until I realized it was referring to Letter, Numbers and Symbols

W - Wisdom...or in other words "What we think that this obscure verse means and if your child doesn't know then s/he has obviously not been taught well by her parents and should be sent into "Sword Drill Purgatory" until said parents can learn how to translate the KJV into a language a 7 year old can understand"

For all of you who think it is a pot of gold that is at the end of a rainbow, think again! I will have you know that my little peg made it to the little white cross at the end of the rainbow.

The Twilight Zone: Episode 423

2006-03-11T19:11:00.000-08:00

It all started with a little voice on the end of my phone at work:

"Hallo? Aamee? Yeash I aam cawlingk do confeerme yourh aappoindmint"

My new dentist's office. I couldn't place the accent and that is my poor attempt to phonetize it. Anyway, I was guessing Indian until I walked into the office and saw that "Katia" was not Indian, but definitely Eastern European, perhaps Russian...yes, Russian.

"Aamee? Ooh eet izz tso niice do see you!"

I noticed her accent and studied it closely because other than the sound of her voice, there was no sound in the immaculate office. No music. No music in a dental office. No other patients either.

Then another lady came out:

"You muszt beh Aamee!"

Then both of them started speaking to each other in the unknown language, that I have now officially deemed as Russian. I decided that the KGB had set up their new offices here in Illinois and were using the dental office as a front for their new experimental procedures. I was now officially hyper-sensitive to everything...my spy mode was turned on and I was immediately looking for the exits since I knew that I did not know how to wield the fancy tools as weapons like they did.

They took me through a door and sat me in a chair facing the window. That was nice. I like facing the window...with no music. They inform me that because I have not been to the dentist in so long that they are going to have to do a full mouth x-ray. They proceeded to put a very strange looking apparatus in my mouth and the following happened 12 times:

"Bite down"

*shuffle shuffle*(Behind the wall)

BLEEP.

*shuffle shuffle* (back over me)

"open!"

The twelfth time I asked if this was normal...all of the bitng down and shuffling and opening. In response to my inquiry:

(Katia pauses as she translates this in her head)

"Yes."

Well okay then.

"Bite down"

*shuffle shuffle*

BLEEP

*shuffle shuffle*

"Open!*

After 15 or so I was really getting curious so I asked again. Why so many pictures? This time a booming male Russian-esque voice answered from an undisclosed location:

"Beecauze eet izz a fowel mout eex-rray"

Spy mode identification sequence enabled: Yes, my dentist is Dr. No. Yeah the same one from James Bond, except I know his name. Boris. Boris No. He had to be named Boris.

So after all of the biting and shuffling was over I was left in the chair by myself to ponder my impending fate with no music staring out the window into a field of brush that I knew was going to be overtaken by a mini-mall with Chipotle or something. That is the future of all brushland. I heard voices in the unknown language pouring over my x-rays. This is a language I did not learn in spy school.

A man in blue dental scrubs came up to me. He was bald and kind of short.

"Hallo Aamee, my naame iz Dochtorr Beckkorr."

Then I looked up and saw that his scrubs said, "Boris" as his first name. Man, I am really good at this spy stuff! Then Boris turned the light on me to the point where I was blinded and told me that he was going to use his new "ultrasonic tool" on me. Great.

"Doo you feeel aany pain?"

*mumpf mumpf*

"Izz eet manageable pain?"

*mumpf mumpf*

I wish I had listened in the spy class about torture. I might have had some insight.

I left knowing that my wisdom teeth are attacking my mouth. Great. So much for the KGB, the enemy is a piece of bone and enamel that are pushing forward mercilessly on my bottom teeth.

Oh yeah and they are Bulgarian.

The Twilight Zone

2006-02-23T14:14:00.000-08:00

Episode 8,005: Time Warp at the Local Skate Center

"You're traveling through another dimension -- a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's a signpost up ahead: your next stop: the Twilight Zone!"

*Insert creepy music*

I went to a surprise birthday party the other night at a local skate center. My experience in the past with skating centers have been pretty much all about middle schoolers, thumping poor quality music, chili fries, and the limbo. The party was for a friend in her early thirties, we thought it would be fun. So I entered the skating arena and it NEVER occurred to me that what happened next would have happened:

I walk in the door and I am the ONLY person in the entire place UNDER the age of 65. All of a sudden I was being stared at by a bunch of old people. I stood practically frozen as I watched the live DJ spin polka-ish tracks that were remakes of things like "Matchmaker, Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof.

Now I must clarify, these people were not just moseying around with canes, oh no...if any of you have ever watched ice dancing in the olympics then you can imagine what I saw. These folks were dancing on roller skates! The fox trot, the tango, the waltz and all sorts of other things. They were magnificient! A friend came in and he just stared at the floor and made a very appropos comment:

I am going to get schooled by a bunch of old people.

Yup, basically. There were eight of us that ended up being there for the party. We kept being referred to as "young people" all night. People kept coming up to us, touching us, telling us stories about everything from WWII to fertilizer, and telling us that we MUST come back. Many of the women were in little ice skating outfits. Now before all of you start gagging, you must know that most (unfortunately, not all) of them were in awesome shape and had really nice legs!

I cannot skate very well, I can't stop and I can't turn. This makes for an interesting and very tiring experience. I would be skating around and a white haired gentleman would come up, skate circles around me and then take my hand. He told me that I should come for a lesson! We would skate around and then just like at an old-fashioned dance the DJ would call a dance. My favorite was when he would say in a low voice, "Couple's dance" and the lights would go down and all the couples would get on the floor! We would dive for the side because we knew we couldn't cut it.

The highlight of the evening was when they called the birthday girl out onto the middle of the floor and they all joined hands and skated in a big circle around her singing "Happy Birthday." It was straight out of a weird, but funny emotive movie.

I think it was one of the best nights of my life and there were no chili fries or the limbo involved.

Doo do do doo do do do doo

The Power Tool Olympics

2006-02-11T18:30:00.000-08:00

This is my new nemesis.

Actually, if you want to get technical, it was a craftsman that caused me to admit defeat today. It was a stunning qualifying round, but it all came down to precision, battery power and an absolute lack of knowledge by the handler.

There are several events in this part of the Power Tool Olympics. This year is featuring shelves, curtain rods and large works of art. Today I tried to qualify for the medal round in the curtain rod event. I chose the right bit, stood on the chair and after marvelling at how short I am, I proceeded to attack the wall with all of the confidence of Bob Villa. Dry wall was spiting on me and I was hoping that I was drilling a level hole, considering I am too short to see the level on the top of the drill. After several minutes and a lot of pressure...I created a little hole. Yup, a little hole.

The battery ran out, I changed it. I tried to fit the drywall plug thingy in the wall. Is it supposed to go all the way in? I then decided that if I was ever going to get this thing up on the wall I was going to have to chuck the directions and go for the gusto. I had to pull out everything to not admit defeat. So I tried to screw in the screw and the plate without the plug thingy...nada...the rod holder thingy was in the way. (YES, "thingy" is a technical term) All I succeeded at doing was getting drywall all over my comforter and putting a bad hole in the wall.

I then got down off the chair and cried. Yup. My emotions had reached a zenith and I had to admit defeat. I don't know how to use power tools. Honestly, I just want someone to do it for me.

I guess this means I am disqualified from the shelf and large artwork events...sigh...

Defy Gravity

2006-01-29T18:35:00.000-08:00

I love Saturdays! (yes, I know I am posting this on a Sunday) I wish I could hug them and not let them go! To grasp the rest, peace and beauty that are embracing me at this moment would be a treasure that I could not bear to let go fo. Whoever said, "beauty is only skin deep" was an ignorant cad. In these days and moments I am learning how God's beauty is so comforting, healing and deeply instructive.

I must guard against being jaded in these days of not much certainty and when life seems to be written in pencil with many erasures. God's voice says:

Oh Amy, if you only knew what I have in store!

Holding onto promises and hope is too difficult. Allowing those promises and hope to embrace and hold onto me is LIFE. In the process I will glorify my God and know that in His plan is the only place I want to be...whether it be pleasant or gut-wrenching.

From the Magnificat: My soul exalts the Lord...

Yes, to be pure, simple, available and willing like Mary for the Holy Spirit to work in whatever way would glorify God...

And my spirit has rejoiced in God my savior.

To smile, laugh and know, REALLY know that God loves me and loves the world. He enlarges my heart and causes my soul to soar. My mind willingly follows suit...to defy gravity...to fly.

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by
The rules of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes
And leap...

It's time to try defying gravity
I think I'll try defying gravity
And you can't pull me down

~Elphaba from WICKED

No being jaded or disappointed or regrettful. What do I have to attribute to any of those states? Nothing! God has blessed me immeasurably and I have no reason to think He will stop. In fact I have every confidence that He will continue to do so! I serve and love a God who finished what He starts and it is a good work. He doesn't screw up or have to start over.

Ubiquitous Techno Raindrops

2006-01-14T13:33:00.000-08:00

I went to my first class of the semester on Thursday. I am still trying to figure out what the heck the profs were even saying. It was one of those moments where I wondered if Wheaton really knew what they were doing accepting me into their graduate school. It was also one of those moments where I wondered if I really have what it takes to do what I want to do with my life.

All of those deep thoughts were there...and for those of you that know me well, you know that I am quite academic, but as Emma could quip about me, "she has an equal amount of the ridiculous in her!" So as I sat in my class with 30 other brainacs sitting under a prof that is a world renown author and expert in my field...I became obsessed with my Dr Pepper bottle. Mostly obsessed by the fact that I could not stop drinking it, but every drink brought the draught closer to being empty.

I was also fascinated by the ubiquitous sound of laptop typing. Laptop typing is distinctly different that regular typing. It sounds like...technological raindrops. So in other words, it was at the every least always sprinkling during class, but there were times where I was hearing a downpour.

Another observation was the syllabus. Not only was it the size of a small encyclopedia, but it was impossible for me not to keep flipping back and forth between the pages. I always read everything in a syllabus, not because I am a particularly attentive student by any means, but because the first day drives me batty and I need to flip through something. I was irritated by the fact that there is nothing in bold. Every syllabus always makes use of bold print to highlight things, but oh no...not this one...apparently everything was equally mundane and ridiculously taxing on my mental processes.

My foot kept falling asleep as well. I was focused on trying to shift my weight in the torture device that is a collegiate desk. Last semester we had tables...I like tables...they build community. We need community in a grad class. Desks are too individualistic. I want tables. I want tables and a weather man to forecast the amount of techno rain. I want syllibi with boldface and gallons of Dr Pepper...

So if you were wondering how a brain like myself functions in grad school, there you have it.

What ever happened to honor?

2006-01-02T08:21:00.001-08:00

*Amy steps on soapbox*

I have seen some good movies. I own some good movies. I think that I have a pretty good idea of what makes a good movie. I also think I have a pretty good idea of why people like movies. I am now going to discuss two movies that I know people REALLY adore or thought were just plain HISTERICAL...and well...not agree with them.

Movie #1: Fun with Dick and Jane

It was funny, especially the part where they pause to get lattes as they rob a coffee shop. Oh, and the part where they have these voice devices that allow them to disguise their voices and Jim Carrey gets a little carried away with them. It is a diatribe against the big guys at big companies who hurt the little guys in their big Enron-ish scandals.

So here's the issue. The movie goes to pretty great lengths to show how this family is a good family, a family that works hard that wants nothing more than the typical American dream (that's a whole other post entirely...so we won't go there right now). Once that dream crashes they crash. They try to find work, but it is impossible so they resort to stealing in order to live. *spoiler ahead* They end up getting back at the big bad company guy at the end...only after they stole from the coffee shop, the retail stores and various other places in order to get back to their rather posh way of life that they had enjoyed before. These people had nothing to do with them and it was justified at the end by the "good deed" (which is actually a vengeful moment that involved fraud and forgery). This "good family" compromises everything that would classify them as a good or honorable family. All of this occurs in front of their son...who by the way throws one heck of a great fit when they sell the plasma TV.

It was a great satire...that unfortunately wasn't extremely clear on the satire aspect in many ways. It was a satire against the American dream, but again...that wouldn't be clear to the typical movie goer. It glorified a family that only did what they did for revenge and incredibly narcissistic reasons. And everyone laughs their way through the dishonor and applauds at the end...

Movie #2: The Notebook

And all of the girls reading this are about to have a cow. I hated this movie. It is not because I am cynical about love or because I am jealous...trust me...I want nothing to do with what I saw in this film.
Besides the obviousness that this movie was just a series of makeout sessions and...other things, I was appalled at the lack of honor displayed in their relationship. Love is a beautiful thing, but not in this film. It started out as an uncontrollable lust that had no integrity and never changed. Yes, yes...the cute old people. That was the only redeeming factor, but with what their relationship was based on, their fidelity is highly unlikely because of the basis of their relationship. Their "love" broke the rules. I know the romantic is now coming out and thinking that is beautiful, but their "commitment" was a breaking of every other commitment. Their lust consumed them and the movie glorified it as something akin to love (I am referring here to the bulk of the movie dealing with their youthful relationship). Ask yourself if you thought that he or she were honorable in any way. Ask yourself if you would ever want a relationship like theirs.

So basically, I didn't like the first on principle and hated the second. If you did, fine. I searched for the redeeming factors in each film and I found some, but I hate to see especially the second lauded as a great victory for love...YIKES. Feel free to disagree. While you do that, I am going to go watch a Jane Austen or Lord of the Rings or Braveheart.

*Amy steps off of her soapbox*

Imagine...

2005-12-28T11:26:00.000-08:00

Can you imagine a moment creating such happiness, excitement and wonder that you burst into tears? Being so grateful and feel that God has orchestrated everything so perfectly that you cannot deny His love and indelible interest in our "grass of the field" existence? This moment invoking a feeling that makes you want to dance and causing you to cry tears of long awaited joy? These tears flowing no matter what you do? When was the last time you cried tears of joy?...real joy...joy that is born out of struggle and a lot of waiting.

I imagine this happening when someone has realized at the altar that they truly are marrying the love and best friend of their life. All of the passion, tears, compromises, tough decisions, arguments, tenderness, and joy finally culminating in a moment...then it dawns on you...this is only the beginning. A earthly lifetime of this love made perfect through struggle and commitment.

I imagine this happening when someone looks into the eyes of a infant that they have wanted for so long. Seeing their eyes and nose, recognizing features in such a young and unique representation of their parents. The pain is forgotten and the invasive and undignified tests fade into dim memory in the face of a child.

I imagine this happening when a family has waited and tested....waited and treated. Nothing can seem to be done for their teenage son or daughter that has something that cannot be explained. Expensive drugs after expensive tests all welcomed in lieu of the terrifying reality that if nothing is done, a life that has only really just begun will be cut short. The doctor comes out for what seems like the hundredth time. They brace themselves for more news, this...they have become accustomed to, they just hold onto the hope that it will lead to something, anything that will help them to hope another day. The doctor comes out and shakes his head and a smile crosses his face. He can't explain it, but something they did worked and their pride and joy will not only live, but will recover.

I imagine this happening when someone is introduced to Jesus for the first...or maybe the second or whatever time. Seeing Him in the midst of pain and feeling His presence and His grace, knowing that the universe is held together in a delicate but firm balance that doesn't take note of us...but He does. Being overcome with the smallness of our lives and beings, but that the same time His beauty and love overrules all. I don't have to imagine too hard on that one...this one I have experienced.

Last night, I didn't have to imagine. Last night I heard a few words that made everything in my heart soar. Last night I cried tears of joy backed by hours and hours of prayer and hope. Years of waiting and triumph and disappointment. Last night, I smiled through those tears and thanked the One that I knew made it all possible...this is a paraphrase, but it went something like this:

"Mr. Brown...we have reviewed your application and we as the committee of Loyola Medical School are pleased to invite you to be a first year medical student in July 2006..."

So what does this mean? Besides the fact that my brother just got into what his advisor called a "dream school?" Besides the fact that my family was so elated that my dad cried on the phone? Besides the fact that there is no way, short of God empowering Him and His faithfulness that he should have gotten into the one school he wanted? Besides the fact that this means he doesn't have to suffer through another year of waiting and wondering and studying his brains out trying to mask his disappointment and trying to remain convinced that being a doctor is what he is called to do?

This also means my brother is moving up to Chicago and I will get to watch him live God's dream for his life...how did I get to be so blessed?

The Age of Squishiness

2005-12-10T17:55:00.000-08:00

You know you are in Chicago in the winter when you walk outside and your face feels like it is encased in frozen saran wrap.

You know you are in Chicago in the winter when you would rather cut off your extremities than keep them because they are in such frozen pain.

You know you are in Chicago during the Christmas season when you drive by multiple houses that have put up gaudy decorations and large blow up snow creatures and have forgotten to take down the gaudy halloween decorations and large blow up scary things. Frosty and jackolanterns...

You know you have a terrible head cold when it feels like someone has chosen to use your head as the recycling bin for all of the Jewel bags in Chicago....no matter that you got them from Wal-Mart...they are still Jewel bags.

You know you have a nasty head cold when all you can think about is your next hit of Nyquil.

You know you are in Chicago in the winter when you take longer than a Thanksgiving turkey to thaw.

You know you are a motorist in Chicago when you are stopped for a minor violation only to have your license taken from you and mailed back you later. It's really quite demeaning...

You know you are a motorist in Chicago when you have spent the whole of your Saturday morning freezing in a Waubonsee classroom watching crash test dummies fly against brick walls.

You know you are a motorist with an old car in Chicago when no matter how hot your car gets from the heat, your steering wheel never warms up. I had the brilliant thought of somehow rigging the steering wheel to have hot water running through it like those cool jet boats in New Zealand. Apparently, as I was just informed, newer cars are fitted with "squishy" steering wheels. And for goobers like me who have an old car, we go to Walmart and buy a cover with something ridiculous on it like Batman...or fur. Nothing says cool more than a steering wheel cover. I would buy it and bring it home and keep the Jewel bag, since all of the rest of them are stuffed in my head. I like myhot water idea better.

And finally...you know you are in Chicago in the winter when you walk up to your door after practically dying while driving in the snow, your hands are drenched through your gloves creating a sharp pain that barely reminds you of feeling in your fingertips, the bottom of your jeans are soaked because you don't own a pair of boots and you end up thinking your door looks positively fetching with a Christmas wreath and little flecks of snow. Then you smile, wanting a picture of it because who would want to be anywhere else?

Risky Surrender

2005-11-27T19:45:00.000-08:00

Prayer is often considered a weakness, a support system, which is used when we can no longer help ourselves. But this is only true when the God of our prayers is created in our own image and adapted to our own needs and concerns. When, however, prayer makes us reach out to God, not on our own but on his terms, then prayer pulls us away from self-preoccupations, encourages us to leave familiar ground, and challenges us to enter into a new world which cannot be contained within the narrow boundaries of our mind or heart. Prayer, therefore, is a great adventure because the God with whom we enter into a new relationship is greater than we are and defies all our calculations and predictions. The movement from illusion to prayer is hard to make since is leads us
from false certainties to true uncertainties,

from an easy support system to a risky surrender,

from the many "safe" gods to the God whose love has no limits.

In prayer, God's presence is never separated from his absence, and God's absence is never separated from his presence. His presence is so much beyond the human experience of being together that it is quite easily perceived as absence. His absence, on the other hand, is often so deeply felt that is leads to a new sense of his presence.

Henri Nouwen Reaching Out

Challenged

2005-11-14T19:40:00.000-08:00

I think we are long lost sisters. I miss her!!!!!!

And now for a quote that has absolutely nothing to do with the picture:

"God has not promised us safety, but participation in an adventure called the Kingdom. That seems to me to be great good news in a world that is literally dying of boredom. God has entrusted us, His Church, with the best story in the world. With great ingenuity we have managed, with the aid of much theory, to make that story as boring as hell."

Stanley Hauerwas

Read it...and be challenged...

Preaching as Though we had Enemies

FIGHT!!!

2005-11-07T20:49:00.000-08:00

I witnessed my first fight today at school. I have seen kids running across the cafeteria or security guards dragging people down the hall to student services as they are yelling, and the police officer leading kids into a paddy wagon in handcuffs.

But I have never seen anything like this...

I was getting ready to go out the doors we normally leave at during lunchtime and right in my line of vision I see a huge guy push a small guy down so that he is laying on the table practically defenseless amid the onslaught of fists and I watched in horror as the huge guy proceeded to beat the hell out of the guy. His arm was moving so fast and with such ferocious anger. The small guy's face didn't have a prayer.

A crowd gathered as it always does and I saw as voyerism was taken to a new level. Some cheered, others freaked out, and others stomped off in anger wondering why this stuff happens anyway?!

Where did we ever get the idea that we could cause damage to another in order to prove ourselves the better or the right?

Maybe this is what he was thinking...

2005-10-31T13:51:00.000-08:00

I cannot take this anymore! There has to be some discussion on the matter. I dare say I am bold enough to bring such accusations against the injustices. The Pope will appreciate these issues being brought to light...I am sure of it. Can he truly, however, not see all that is going on under his nose? Instead of piety, I see only wickedness. Instead of generosity, only usury. The lifeblood of the people is the Church and the Church is raping them of their good will and souls! Christ is being mocked in the indulgence of the Church cheating everyone and leading them down the path of ignorant damnation!

I thought I would stop somewhere around 50, but I found that I could not. I thought for sure 75 would cover it...then I remembered several other things that I could not justify to remain in silence. The disgusting and blatant sin that is permeating every street and cathedral has become the object of my scorn and my vendetta.

95 strong. I could have gone longer, but I am afraid then that my passion would have erred in redundancy, but definitely not in overzealousness!

Hopefully some good ripples will come of this and someone will be wise enough to take it beyond the academic walls.

--Martin Luther 31 October, 1517

Happy Reformation Day!!! (or if you are a Catholic..Happy Protestant Heresy Day!!!!)

Yamish

2005-10-22T19:49:00.000-07:00

Tolkien has NOTHING on me. So he can create a world with indepth geneologies, amazing characters, languages and stories galore...big whoop.

I...yes, I, am in the process of creating a language. It's not THAT hard...anyway, so here are a few of my new words. Put them in your vocabulary. If you know me at all, you have probably heard me say them, but for the record...here's the dictionary definitions!

Mengh (filler word pronounces with a short nasal sound at the end) - An expression of mild dissatisfaction mixed with humor. e.g. Work right now.

YARK (yes, it is in all caps and that is how it is used...always) - Pronouncement of doom on something that has caused great trauma. e.g. My computer a couple of weeks ago when I wanted to throw it out the window

GLORPula (Yes, caps are correct to give emphasis. You have to stand with your hands on your hips with your head turned to the side like a comic book superhero and say it very grandiosely) A declaration of victory over something which has caused great irritation. e.g. When I figured out what the issue was with my computer that saved its puny life from the car park death that it was about ready to suffer.

Car Park - Parking lot. The Brits have this one right...it's an open place for cars to hang out. "Parking lot" sounds like some sort of strange adverb combo..."singing lot" "snooping lot"...This is my renewal of this phrase and I am announcing its grand entrance into American culture.

By the way..it is yam-ish, not amish with a "y," get it right.

Yamish is not latin based or tonal. It is expression based. Meaning if you just say it...you are actually cussing or telling someone a variety of insults that will cause you great harm. So please, say them in the correct manner!

In living color...

2005-10-11T21:11:00.000-07:00

"Corn is no place for a mighty warrior."

"Were you just first basing it with that piece of loose leaf?"

These quotes compliments of a brilliant new installment of Teen Girl Squad #10

MIRTH!!!!

2005-10-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

I am having visions of sugar plums dancing in my head,
Thus begins the season that I could never dread.
I bought my plane ticket to go see my fam,
You couldn't stop me with a battering ram.
I am trying not to put up my tree,
I close my eyes around Christmas signs so I do not see.
If I succumb, I will spend all that I am worth,
But hey, why not? I will love it! Participate in my mirth!

Symphony of the Ages

2005-10-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

The audience is hushed as the Conductor raises his hands to quiet the tuning of the orchestra. They are ready. A deep inhale sends his hands into motion and the orchestra follows. The result is magnificent...beautiful....complicated...and it sweeps you away.
Theology is a symphony, composed and conducted by God. The orchestra of the ages plays different pieces of music...sections of it are even designated as "movements" and history rolls on. There are some that hear the music and just enjoy the effect. They don't have a trained ear, but they love the music all the same. They can't pick out the differences in the voices of the intruments, nor do they feel the necessity...they just listen and follow what they hear from the swells to the solos.

Then there is the trained ear. One who can hear the differences. Of course, there are levels of this. Some so asute as to pick up the difference between the 1st trunmpet and the 2nd trumpet parts. They can isolate the sounds in the midst of the swells and the unison.

A solo sounds on a particular issue or melody, while all else continues as background for its spotlight. There are some that are foundational parts and without them an orchestra would not exist or be seriously lacking.
Both the trained and the untrained ear can note dissonance...or musical tension...at times. Is it in tune? Is it not? It can be debated by those who know the music and the instruments, otherwise it is left as a masterful musical paradox.
Sometimes the music is quiet or sparse. Not always is there a swell to be heard. Sometimes many or all the instruments can be largely silent. We can be left with wondering why or we can enjoy the mystery of the silence.

An untrained ear can enjoy the symphony and arguably just as much as the trained ear. Untrained ears who fall in love the the symphony will eventually become more trained out of sheer enjoyment and love.

A trained ear enjoys the music as they are continually dissecting it. Learning and picking out the distinctiveness, predicting the flow of the melody, recognizing themes....the symphony is sometimes viewed as not a mystery to be solved, but one to be understood. The trained ear can get so lost in the details that they forget to just enjoy the music! Then again... the details MAKE the music.

It's beautiful! The timing! The effect! The balance! I want to get lost in the mystery and the details. I love it all!

Enchiladas

2005-09-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

Life is like a buffet line.

I am in line at a buffet or a brunch...or linner...or a dunch...whatever you want to call it. All of these people are in line ahead of me. Not that they are better than me, they are just in line ahead of me. Maybe their table was called first or something...

So we are all walking along the buffet line of life and all of a sudden they see the enchiladas of marriage and they exclaim, "Oh wow! Look! How cool! I think I will partake!" So they take the enchiladas and get married.

Then there are people like me who hear that enchiladas are being served and get all excited. It's not a mystery to me, like it was to some in front of me, that there are enchiladas on the buffet. So I am waiting my turn, not certain when they will come up in front of me and beckon me to partake. So then I get up to the enchiladas and...

...the tray is empty.

The good thing is that the Almighty Chef will bring out more, because, well it is a buffet. So I have a couple of options.

1. I can stand there looking desperate with my plate and awkwardly explain to people as they come by what I am waiting for.

2. I can go back to my seat and check leisurely over my shoulder every couple of minutes. It's all about being watchful and mindful of the enchiladas.

3. Expect that the Chef will come out and present me with the enchiladas at my table with grand pomp and circumstance, since there wasn't any when I went up there.

So in all of the above options I am still clueless about how wonderful these enchiladas of marriage are. People keep coming by my table asking me if I have tried them and commenting on how long it has been that I have had to wait. They wonder if I have missed several opportunities.

So here I am...sitting at my table, telling everyone who comes up and runs their mouth to buzz off and go fall into a massive vat of cheese wiz and checking often to see if the Chef has brought anything out...

I am waiting for the big enchilada.

The Cheering Section

2005-09-19T13:51:00.000-07:00

Voices start coming from everywhere trying to distract and pull you in every direction...

Jim Elliot calls out:
Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.

Smith Wigglesworth bellows:
Filled with God. Filled with God. Emptied of self. Filled with God.

The cheers of the saints, martyrs and mentors come like an overwhelming flood of love and encouragement:
Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverence the race marked out for us.

This is why we must study history. I want to know those who sit in the stands, many who gave their lives to finish the race.

Run forward! Don't lose heart!

Still running...

2005-09-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

You find yourself looking to the right and the left:

"Whatever your heart clings to and confides in, that is really your God."
You turn to see Martin Luther in front of you, pulling your focus back on track.

Suddenly you hear jeers from the crowd. You are pelted with insults and shocking statements that cause the redness of anger to flood your face. It has become almost too much! You are about to change to a course of attack when John Bunyan's clear voice causes all the distraction to fade:

"I will permit no man to narrow my soul by allowing me to hate him...If my life is fruitless, it doesn't matter who praises me, and if my life is fruitful, it doesn't matter who criticizes me." Love fills your heart and you run on.

Soon the weather becomes hot and God seems far. Everything becomes uncomfortable and quitting seems like the only viable option. A hand reaches out to push you forward, it is Oswald Chambers:

"I reckon you for extreme service, with no complaining on your part and no explanation on mine." You know it is God's call and you press on...

To be continued...

Running...

2005-09-10T21:34:00.000-07:00

I am running...
I am in a race and it gets really tiresome at times. The finishline can seem so unbelieveably far away. We look in moments of desperation and in triumph for affirmation, encouragement, and certainty. Many of us glance over and see a few in familiar faces in the stands cheering us on that have discipled or befriended us. This helps us to keep going.

The race, however, is long and our connection to those in the stands becomes slight. A sea of unknown faces, empty of the light of relationship crowd out those few familiar faces. We run on, wearily, as lonliness whips across our face like a biting northern wind...then you hear them...

A chorus of voices from the sidelines:
We believe in one God the Father all-Sovereign, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible...and in the one Lord Jesus Christ...

"Yes! I agree!" Your faith is affirmed hearing the Nicene Creed, knowing that others hold onto what you hold sacred. You run on.
To be continued...

Why I will forever love the Newsboys

2005-09-04T21:07:00.000-07:00

I sat in a class last week that made my brain feel like mush. It was AWESOME! We were discussing an article from an Eastern Orthodox author who had major issues with Protestants. As we discussed, questions in our own minds about our belief system became very apparent. Also we had been discussing post-modernism...my heart, of course, leapt at that!

On my way home I was yelling whatever anthem was on the radio at the top of my lungs. I started to cry as I was becoming hoarse yelling " Sunday Bloody Sunday" as sung by Pillar. I needed connection to a world outside of Theology...I longed to know how I could touch real people and make a real difference. Tears started streaming down my face as I thought of those post-mods. I know that God is having me learn what I am learning and struggle with the questions I am because of them. Not so that I can answer them necessarily, but so that I know exactly what it feels like to question and to see my beliefs in Jesus withstand the pressure. I subject my brain to mush because God adores them and I adore them!

All of a sudden "Shine" came on. I couldn't help it, my 13 year old self that used to headbang to this song at every concert came out. I began to sing and...laugh...really really hard for some deep unknown reason.

"...that would make a dead head sell his van and make a schizophrenic turn in his crayons.
Oprah freaks and science seeks a rationale that shall excuse our strange behavior.
When you let it shine, you will inspire an entire turn-around that would make a bouncer
take ballet, even bouncers who aren't happy.

Shine. Make 'em wonder what you've got. Make 'em wish that they were not on the outside
looking bored.
Shine. Let it shine before all men, let 'em see good works and then let 'em glorify the Lord."

Man, shouldn't I be OVER the Newsboys? Aren't they like not cool to listen to anymore? Well...it occured to me that all of the valuable stuff that I was learning in class paled in comparison to Jesus and how much He loves the world. No one can explain away or dissect a changed life! I was laughing because I knew that beyond all that I could learn sitting in a classroom, I know the God that can make a deadhead sell his van. The Jesus who pulls prostitutes up out of the dirt. The Savior who turned to a thief in his last moments to welcome Him into heaven.

"I am not ashamed to let you know I want this light in me to show...I'm not ashamed to speak the name of Jesus Christ!"

Okay...no more Newsboys! Promise...

"Let this song remind you that they don't serve breakfast in hell!" HA! Sorry..I couldn't resist one more.

Posterity

2005-09-02T22:28:00.000-07:00

I had the most frightening thing happen the yesterday as I was brushing my teeth. It stopped me dead in my tracks and I stood dumbly looking in the mirror with my toothbrush in my mouth.

No, it had nothing to with plaque build up.

In exactly four years I will be thirty...that is 30 in layman's terms...:)

In other news, so the second day of school a chihuahua was running around the high school by the choir room. Our police counselor was walking down the hallway in his full uniform, with a bullet proof vest, weaponry...and a little chihuahua in his arms.

Wish I had that for posterity...never a dull moment.

Suffering and More CDs

2005-08-27T07:32:00.000-07:00

I can still see them. Even as I remember the images now, tears come to my eyes. Bar girls in Bangkok. It's too hard being here sometimes. So many times I want to be out there with them. It's nice to know that others are there. I have seen it and now I cannot forget it. Though I pray, I cannot touch them.

Should I "move on?" Should I stop weeping for them? Am I becoming annoying with my stories? I could have gone about my daily life. I could have continued my dreams uninterrupted. I could have remained naive to their suffering. I cannot now. Their faces remained burned in my mind, their soft, broken english in my ears and their stories will haunt me perhaps forever.

What is Jesus' attitude towards the suffering that I cannot forget? The Thai claim Buddhism as their tradition. Buddha saw the suffering of the world and determined to give himself over to the pursuit of escape from this world and to teach others to do the same. We as Christians can operate more like Buddhists...instead of bandaging a wound or mourning with those who mourn or placing our hands on those that would shake us out of our convenience, we learn how to "deal" with it. We read another book, we go to another conference, we buy another worship CD because we are clamoring for an experience with God in spite of a dying and suffering world.

This is escapism. This is selfish egoism. This is not Jesus-living. We should clamor for an experience with God for us and others with our hands and heart deep in the suffering and death of the world. Without the light going near the darkness, how can the darkness ever experience light? Can a suffering heart or body be touched from afar? Yes, prayer is not subject to distance, thank God, but didn't Jesus say to actually "go?" Jesus prayed for people, He also laid hands on them, met their needs, played with children, and answered their questions. He was there.

No, indeed I cannot get the faces, voices, or stories out of my mind. Something tells me that I am not supposed to. My eyes have been opened to the suffering of the world and more intimately to the suffering of young women in Bangkok. To turn inside myself to try to placate the pain I feel and the haunting that wrecks my soul would be to dismiss the heart of God.

First day of school

2005-08-24T18:55:00.000-07:00

I am going to Wheaton tomorrow.
I am a masters of arts student.
I am studying History of Christianity.
I want to go to Cambridge.
I don't think I want to go to Oxford because the name of it sounds like a stuffy polo shirt.
I realized that an oxford IS actually a stuffy polo shirt.
I want to sit in libraries and read old musty books.
I want to teach others to love history and musty books.
I want to be a fantastically odd charismatic professor.

Today I bought bright yellow and purple fuzzy flowered folders and notebooks to match for my first day of class...

Either I am a closet Hillary Duffish teeny queen fan or I am well on my way to being that fantastically odd prof that I want to be.

Beyond our Borders

2005-08-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

It can be referred to as "thinking outside of the box."
Some have termed it as "very post-modern."
Words to describe it in more detail are "networking" or "creative."

When, as Christians, will we reach out beyond our borders to those outside of our circle, even those outside of the faith to rescue a dying world? This is a dangerous thought. It involves taking us past our biases, through our discomfort, in spite of our "embarrassment," and in the face of our pride.

The oppressed, dying, enslaved and poor in this world need more than we as the church seem willing to give. God can and will move the hearts of many people, Christian or not, to reach out and rescue these that suffer.

Beyond our borders...expanding into undiscovered country. Looking outside of typical evangelical circles, calling upon those outside church walls to enact social justice. What a better way for the church to connect with this generation! Imagine doing exactly what Jesus did and call people to follow us and we follow Him.

We are so particular. If they are not red-blooded republican church members then we exclude. Why?
Fear...
Preconceived biases...

Besides all of that, most of it is because we aren't creative or brave enough.

We have been outdone by a 4'5" nun in Calcutta when it comes to opening our hearts and minsitries to those that want to help and learn. We would do well to echo Mother Teresa's call to the world, "Come and see."

Why can we not let the world join our crusade against issues that affect humanity worldwide? Human trafficking. Hunger and poverty relief. Economic and social concerns...we are too particular in whom we deem worthy to serve.

Beyond our borders...
It starts with you. Come and see. Then invite others.
Work alongside the world and watch them follow.

On the Imitation of the Patience and Love of God

2005-08-11T07:51:00.000-07:00

I find that my heart is bring pulled more heavily away from "babysitting" American Christians . Before I move on, let me explain that. There is so much stuff available in the US for us Christians and many times I feel like I am spoonfeeding people and trying to keep them well-fed and happy as opposed to truly discipling someone in the faith. Hence, "babysitting."

My heart is being turned towards those who lack even knowledge of true love. Not a touch. Not a word. No mention of Jesus, at least not in a postive way. No opportunity. Hearts unfamiliar. Minds blinded, possibly for generations. Rejecting truth out of hurt and escapism.

People are messy, that is for sure. I feel the decision for people here in the States is clear:

Am I first an American or am I first a Christian?

(Pause...let this sink in and really ask yourself that question)

If we truly know Christ, His love compels us. I need patience in this moment to love and cherish those here in the States that are locked in their fear and indifference. It is very easy for me to become indignant in the face of "high maintenance" American Christians. Then God reminds me that they are also messy...in a different way. God is very patient, the least I can do is imitate Him. These can have their hearts awakened as I did. These can have their destinies defined as I did. These set aflame can change the world. These that come to the realization of God's infinite love and remain there, no matter what culture or background, will declare his goodness and obey God's will for their lives.

This is not my place to judge, but to pray that God's love, justice and call grips them in unceasing passion. This I also pray for myself that Christ may be displayed in my life, that I may love. May I not seek acclaim or become too attached to anything of this world besides the souls of men.

Lord, make me a channel of Thy peace.
That where there is despair, I may bring hope;
That where there are shadows, I may bring light.

St Francis

Does it speak for itself or will you talk for it?

2005-07-31T22:11:00.000-07:00

So...this is from my recent trip to Chicago. It is displayed in front of the Museum of Modern Art. How appropos. Does it speak to you like it speaks to me? (insert incredibly weird snobby artistic air) What are your thoughts? Feelings?

In the meantime

2005-07-26T19:03:00.000-07:00

Is it possible that July is almost over? It is possible that school will beginning so soon? Is it possible that only a week has passed since I got back from Bangkok?

I have been attempting to keep myself occupied. It has been somewhat successful. Today I was literally on edge. I left God practically mid-conversation to go to work and deal with a potential situation. I satisfied the worry, just so that I could have it off my mind when I got back. Back at my house, God gently requested that I play my guitar with Him.

I thumbed through the music, pausing to cut my fingernails (it's hard to play with long nails and in Thailand I rarely had the opportunity to play) and figure out what in the world was rolling around inside of my guitar. I half-played through a few choruses, my fingers smarting from lack of practice.

I awkwardly continued to flip while the strap on my guitar continued to fall off of my shoulders. This is always a cause for irritation. All of a sudden my roaming gaze focused on a song I have not played recently, but have always adored. I began to pluck the chords in jilted remembrance...

From glass alabaster she poured out the depths of her soul...

My voice found the lower, comfortable register of Jennifer Knapp and I continued.

Oh foot of Christ would she wait if her harlotries known...

A lump rose in my throat. Harlotries. Prostitutes.

Falls a tear to darken the dirt of humblest offerings to forgive the hurt
She is strong enough to stand in Your love...

This is where I broke. Film, Ben, Nok, Tioy, Praew, Plah, Gun, May, Apple, Bum-Bum...
Faces, names, hearts and stories came flooding with the tears. Through them I attempted to continue.

And I can hear her say,
I am weak and I'm poor, Lord.
I am broken, but I am Yours.
Hold me now. Hold me now.

I could not...out of my deepest being flowed tears of anguish over my beautiful girls. I tried to look at the next verse.

Let he without sin cast the first stone if you will.

Why God? Why do they remain a shamed part of the church in Thailand? Why are they not welcome? Or...maybe they are welcome, but are they invited?

To say my bride isn't worth half the blood that I've spilt.

Now I was weeping uncontrollably. I gripped my chest and pleaded for God's intervention.

Point a finger and laugh if you choose
To say my bride if borrowed and used.

Gun and her ulcers, Film's little Sophie, Ben's dream, Tioy's obsession...they are messy...but they are priceless!

She is strong enough to stand in my love and I can hear her...

This is where I cried out against my selfishness for having anything that I do. I felt selfish for going to school, for buying new shoes. The self-depreciation subsided and gave way to a new determination to get on a plane as soon as possible.

"I can hear her God! I can hear their cries! I can hear her anguish! I can hear her pleading! I can hear her cries all over the world! I will go! If I have to pack my belongings in a coffin...I will..."

I collapsed out of weariness. It is not time for me to go wherever God will send me. My will bristled at the thought.

"In the meantime?" I asked.

pray. network. engage hearts. dream. plan. go.

In the meantime, I am speaking on Sunday morning and I am going to attempt to sing this song.

So...really are guys and girls THAT different?

2005-07-26T18:16:00.000-07:00

Guys and girls. Wait. Before I start I just have to bring up another random question.

Why the "birds" and the "bees"? This question has apparently been bugging some.. (HA HA bugging...get it? bees? Bugging...errr...yeah) for a long time. It has only been annoying me for about 2 weeks. I asked someone their thoughts on the subject. Her response was quite insightful:

"It drives me crazy! Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering, "why the birds and the bees? Why not the bees and the flowers?" At least that would have something to do with...something."

Right on. Extremely insightful.

Does unisex clothing bug (Ha Ha get it?...wait...nevermind...) anyone else? Ugh...I went through that sometime in the 90s. It was this embarrassing trend that everyone had to be a part of called "grunge." Really I am convinced that it was nothing more than some guys getting together and having the following conversation:

"Hey"

(grunt in response)

Let's...like...wear...whatever..we...fall...on...in...the...closet...
when...it...is...like...dark..."

tubular...man

yeah...yeah...and..not..wash...it...or...anything...

yeah

It....will...be...so...cool...yeah...

Can't you just see it? And somehow all guys and girls fell into the baggy pants/dirty hair/droopy everything look.

Where was I going with this? Oh yes. Really I just wanted to share a moment in time with you. A moment that showed me how truly from different worlds we are as male and female.

I went out with a group of friends to a local KFC. I was sitting with my two girlfriends. One of them is married and everything on her matches. Earrings with necklace. Necklace with hairthings. Hairthings with skirt...all of this, but somehow she still looks like she did it in ten minutes. I hate that. The other is not like that, so I didn't feel completely pathetic, and Matchy-chick is little and we could've taken her down if it had come to that.

Anyway, Matchy-chick is married to Hilarious-Random-Red-Head. He is sitting at the table adjacent to us with about 5 other guys. Brother of Hilarious-Random-Red-Head and Friend of Hilarious-Random-Red-Head are two of the other key players at the table. So Matchy-Chick, Normal-Girl (who by the way is extremely witty, so from here on she will be known as Witty-Normal-Girl) and I were talking about...yes...you got it...relationships. Imagine that. Marriage. Having children. Expectations. How to really put God at the center. You know stuff like that.

Well, out of nowhere. Brother of Hilarious-Random-Red-Head scurries to our table and with a sly and all too innocent smile drops a pile of jelly bellies in the middle of our table, saying something about having extra. We hear the sounds of attempts to stifle snorts and chuckles. Matchy-Chick leans forward and says that Brother of Hilarious-Random-Red-Head has been wanting to showcase his box of gross jelly beans for a week and seems to have forgotten she was present at the conversation when he deviously planned this little stunt. Matchy-Chick then became Very-Smart-Matchy-Chick.

Very-Smart-Matchy-Chick decided it would be funny to pretend to eat one and get their reaction. Witty-Normal-Girl and I agreed. So she did. "ewwwww!!!!" She yells. This is met by fits of histerics from the adjacent table full of boyish testosterone. She whirls around and reveals the reality of her knowledge. Brother of Hilarious-Random-Random-Red-Head scurries back over to our table and sullenly picks up the nasty jelly beans and and claimed to have already known that the girl table wouldn't fall for it. Oh by the way, the flavors were as follows..vomit, rotten egg, and booger. Yummy.

So as the evening continued to progress, fits of laughter and grunting noises sounded from the adjacent table as Friend of Hilarious-Random-Red-Head came over and tried to get me to choose which jelly bean was disgusting and which was not. This was met by me choosing the kiwi one as opposed to the rotten egg one. If you had to choose between a pretty green jelly bean or an oddly shaped opaquesque creamish colored one, which would you choose? This choice was met by disappointment and a return to the adjacent table.

Still later in the evening. Taunts and cheers were being offered as each guy downed another disgusting bean. "Oh man! That was so gross! Hey! Try this one!"

We left that night without any of them having tried vomit. No comment.

Witty-Normal-Girl and I left wondering why in the world we were discussing relationships.

Adventures in Aurora

2005-07-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

It's been a week.

It's been quite a week.

There was an element of fear coming back to the States and no, it had nothing to do with all of the drunk Japanese men in the airport. This year (I don't do the whole New Years thing...for me, having grown up in an educator's household, the beginning of the school year marks a new year..so sorry if that throws everything off. Hmmm...in fact I am not sorry...stop being so chained to the schedule of the masses!) holds a substantial amount of transition for me. From my starting my masters to a major shift in ministerial responsibilities...

This year I have one resolution:

Face transition with the face of courage.

Courage - The state or quality of mind or spirit that enables one to face danger, fear, or vicissitudes with self-possession, confidence, and resolution; bravery. (that is a mouthful)

and just in case you need it...
Vicissitude - A change or variation

This is a year to take territory, to claim God's best, to see fruit, to engage my heart, to expand, to love and be loved, to excel, to embrace change, to seek, to not worry and to trust God. This will involve great resolve and above all a choice to believe firmly that God's best for our lives...whatever that may be...is our destiny.

I will stand. I will face transition. I will, like Joshua, be strong and courageous when standing overlooking the future that God has promised me. It won't come without a fight, but I will be brave. I will stand with resolve. And...I will enjoy it!

Adventures in Thailand - A Moment to Capture

2005-07-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

Remember Tioy? I described her in one of my earlier posts. Tioy has become my best Thai friend. We hang out, we talk...it's great. She is in the process right now of deciding whether or not she is going to quit bar work and move into the Well. This would also include her sister. She is really worried about the money and is a little overwhelmed by the decision.

She went over the visit the Well today while all of the girls were making cards. I talked to her for a long time about my own struggle with faith and money. She is worried about her parents, her daughter and she is scared. I taught her a new word...Brave. She liked that one. I grabbed her hand as she was freaking out and just expressed God's love for her. The Thai pastor there prayed for her and then I asked to pray for her. We sat across from each other we held hands and prayed. Her head was over my hands. At that moment, I could have cared less whether I did anything I wanted to do in my entire life...I just want Tioy to "get it" I want to see her succeed and get out of all of this junk. I prayed, I cried, I told Jesus how much I loved her. Then I felt her tears falling on my hands...

Tioy needs to make a decision, but she is scared...pray for her...

Adventures in Thailand - Dreaming of Cambodia

2005-07-09T08:48:00.000-07:00

Anna and Ben are presently here on 30 day visas. which means that every thirty days they have to get their visas renewed. In order to do that, one must feel illegal and cross the border to Cambodia. So I think I dreamed of our trip...

I dreamed we woke up at 3:30 am...if you can consider the state we were in as awake. We sat in front of a 7-11 and waited for the Jack Golf company to take us the 3.5 hours to Cambodia. Why I was going in the dream, I am not sure. I don't need to renew my visa. The only thing I can think of is that it sounded like a grand adventure to go to such a random country. Anyway this company does golf tours...apparently it is the off season because for some reason this group was taking us to Cambodia. They were very nice and there was weird movies playing all the way there. They took our passports from us. This is where the dream was really far from reality, I never let my passport out of my sight! They filled out our forms for us and everything! Off we went on our odd journey.

For some reason I was sitting by myself instead of with Anna and Ben and I saw a castle in the sky. It was really beautiful. You know how in dreams weird things happen that seem totally unrelated to anything? Well, this castle was made of clouds. I am sure my weird state of mind had nothing to do with the fact that I didn't eat anything.

We crossed the border and immediately everything felt different. It didn't look any different than Thailand in my dream and we still paid everything in baht. There were little kids everywhere trying to pick our pockets and people carrying around things way too heavy for them and pulling carts that barely had wheels with 1000 of pounds of stuff.

We stood in line and there I met three other Americans that were from Lee University. I could tell one was a Christian,she just glowed. They were there "teaching english" yeah...right...I thought, good cover. Then later she told me she was a Christiand missionary after the lady with 8 passports from the Philippines in front of me finally got finished. Again, I have no idea why I got my visa renewed, in dreams common sense goes out the window and the adventurous spirit takes over.

Then we ate lunch at a casino with slot machines and everything! We had coffee at Palais Coffee, which looks exactly like Starbucks, tastes exactly like Starbucks, but they couldn't spell anything correctly. For instance, I ordered a Strawburry Frappe in my dream. I don't know why I ordered that.

Then the cool men from Jack Golf came back and took us back across the border, they came up and told Ben and I we were not allowed to take pictures there. Isn't that kind of weird? We didn't have to stand in line or anything, we just walked back into Thailand with little beggar kids nipping at our heels. I ignored them, Ben gave one of them his drink from Palais Coffee when he tried to take his camera.

We got back on the bus and watched Conan the Destroyer. It was odd. Then I fell asleep in my dream, which I knew is really inpossible because I cannot sleep in moving vehicles and I dreamed I was throwing lettuce at cars and then I skipped down the street and threw lettuce into everyone's garden.

It was when I woke up on a shaky double decker bus from the lettuce dream, that I realized that everything else actually happened. Everything including Conan, which was one heck of a weird movie.

Adventures in Thailand - Precious. Valuable. Priceless.

2005-07-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

Aimee and I went back for a short stint on Soi Cowboy. It's becoming quite addicting to go and talk to these girls. They are nothing like you would expect from a group of prostitutes. I enjoy talking to the women, especially with Jim and Judy. Aimee noticed how aggressive they were(to get business) and then the moment when Jim or Judy were in view, their aggression melted away. A huge smile, a twinkle in their eye and a respectful sweet authentic Thai tone came forth, "Sawatdee kaa Ajan Jim!" (Ajan means teacher...or the equivalent of rabbi). Conversation flows freely. They talk to Jim and Judy in Thai and then include Aimee and I in the converstion as well.

At one point I stepped back and just observed. A tall, slender young woman that we had talked to was standing right behind us. I will never forget her ridiculously large bright red platform heels and fishnets combined with a t-shirt to cover her dancing outfit. It looked so out of place. She was standing in the street trying to get customers as they sauntered past.

She would step in front of them, flash her smile, play the young flirt...if that didn't work she would grab them...anywhere. It took 5 tries before two Japanese men came by and were finally convinced, She gestured toward the bar. He pointed at her. She nodded. The transaction was complete. As she led them inside her face that was so full of flirtation and plastic aggression flashed a look of absolute terror:

"Oh my, what have I gotten myself into?"

"Please don't be sadistic."

"I hope he doesn't hurt me."

The look was gone and flanked by 2 men she disappeared into the darkness pierced with strob lights and thumping music.

We walked farther down the street and found May. She is a good candidate for the program. She hasn't been doing bar work for long. She misses her kids. She doesn't like it. She's beautiful. She is precious. Valuable. Priceless. They never hear these words. If you say them, they blush at the thought, then their eyes turn away and sometimes fill with tears.

Precious. Valuable. Priceless.

They have never heard these words

Adventures in Thailand - BORN TO BE WIIIILLLLLD!!!

2005-07-09T08:40:00.000-07:00

Utai-Thani...pronounced oo-tie-tan-iiii...Thai is a tonal language and so the length of syllables and sounds is of great importance. I learned this on our way to Utai-Thani. (Aren't you glad you now know how to pronounce it?)

We all headed off for our first village trip. The boys went the uncomfortable way in a public van thingy and us girls went the way of an air-conditioned taxi. Yes, we know, we had the greater sacrifice. We picked up Ouey and headed off for what ended up being a 7 hour journey when it was only supposed to be 5. That is what happens when you bring a taxi out in the middle of nowhere...we have to go way out of the way to find fuel. It was quite an experience actually. We had the most amusing taxi driver that spoke great English. He had a good heart, but he knew a whole slew of cuss words! Ahhh...don't you love what we have taught the world...

We needed fuel so we stopped at 3 different places. None of them had propane. We got referred to another place, which also did not, but told us that we could follow the tuk-tuk to a place where they were sure had propane. (by the way, to describe a tuk-tuk, just picture a motorcycle with a little carriage on the back that can fit 3 Thai comfortably and 3 small westerners (thanks to our western obsession with food and entertainment these have definitely become a rarity). Then imagine that thing zipping in and out of traffic like a giant game of tetris...well, everyone actually does that, but imagine the tuk-tuk being a small tetris piece) Anyway, the tuk-tuk led us to a place where we turned, drove to the back of the building, where we further turned around to back down into a ravine where a fuel pump was stashed. It felt immensely illegal.

On the way there, our little friend Ouey, who lives at the Well (the house where the prostitutes who have left stay while being sponsored|) tried to teach me some Thai. I was eating a snack and asked Anna how to say "Very delicious" She said, "At-loi maaaaaak" You don't actually pronounced the "k" sound at end, you just stop the tone like you would. You drag the "maaaaa" sound out for a while by making it sound nasal and jutting out your lower jaw. Yeah, well...I was proud of myself so I said it to Ouey. Yeah, her eyes got as big as saucers and she started laughing at my "farang-ness" (Farang is the term that is used for any foreigner) I had said, "delicious dog!"

So of course, Ouey had to make this known. So to every person we met for the whole village trip I became the girl who thinks dog is delicious. She picked on me constantly. I didn't mind, she drove me around on her motorcycle. Yes, I said motorcycle.

In Thailand everybody rides motorcycles. You actually can hire motorcycle taxi service. It's quite amazing to watch these Thai women who sit side-saddle, holding onto their groceries and zipping through traffic leaning back and forth at the appropriate time. I would wet my pants. Anyway, the villages are not any different. Kids learn as young as 10 to drive one. So I got out of the taxi and Ouey rides up on her motorcycle (okay, I guess they are not like Harleys...they have smaller wheels like bicycles) and told me to get on. I didn't even think about it, I hopped on! I have never riden one before and for some reason I jumped at the chance. I couldn't help it! There was something inside of me that was screaming "BORN TO BE WIIIIILLLLD!!!!" So after that ride, which was really fun, we rode motorcycles the rest of the time. Ouey got a kick out of shaking the thing when there was three of us on it.

So now that I read this, I realize it turned into a disseration on transporation in Thailand. Well...apparently I felt you needed to know. So feel informed.

Adventures in Thailand - Nana

2005-07-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

Tioy

Her smile is absolutely infectious. She knows quite a bit of english, which made talking to her a delight. She is 20 years old and has a sister that always whines to get money from her older sister. She likes country music and pop culture. She bought a new pair of tennis shoes...white ones...that she paid a lot for. She talked a lot about her boyfriend and jumped quickly from subject to subject singing songs to see if I knew the words and slapping me playfully on the arm in surprise when I didn't. Her personality shines through in everything. She is independent and works to keep her life that way. Doiy is VERY much an American teenager in so many ways...She just gave her life to Jesus last week. Not everything makes sense, but she has a strong desire to study the Bible and she is passionate about it.

It was hard to look into her eyes and hear her and then imagine a man...an American or European perhaps...sitting down at her bar, ordering a drink and then ordering her...or another one of the thousands of young women just like her. Not Tioy...she's so young..she's so smart...so precious, too precious to be used and then left. Her heart longs for relationship, for love, what will happen to her heart if this continues?

So much the marketing here is western. I look at billboards differently now. It's not just selling products or using sensuality to sell...jello. These girls, this culture idolizes western everything. We are helping to destroy these girls from thousands of miles away. It's all Tioy talks about...besides her new found faith in Jesus. I am going to do everything I can to make sure that knowing Jesus is more important than any song or pair of shoes.

Hope Fully

2005-05-23T15:35:00.000-07:00

I am going through a quarter-life crisis.

I am 25 years old and my life is insane. I love to do so many different things. I am good at a lot of things. Therefore, I am given a lot of responsibility and there are high expectations of me. Mostly they are expectations I have of myself...it is very overwhelming at times.

Hopefully, my job stuff will be worked out soon. Hopefully Wheaton will contact me soon. Hopefully all of my Thailand money will come in...Hopefully. Hope...fully...hmmm...

Indeed, I hope fully in Jesus. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt, that "hopefully"is not wishing. It if faith in the truest sense...a longing...a hope fulfilled.

I motion that "hopefully" should no longer be an adverb, but an active verb phrase!

I hope fullly that everything with my future will work out for my good and for the best.
I hope fully in God's direction for my schooling.
I hope fully in His leading and provision for missions
I hope fully in the talents He has placed in me not going to waste.
I hope fully that the dreams inside of me will indeed come to fruition.
I hope fully in the love of Jesus for me!

"My hope is built on nothingless, save Jesus Christ, His righteousness."

Job 4:6
Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?

- hope and confidence seem to go hand in hand.
- hope can be fostered by a choice and a lifestyle on my part...consistent submission = the fear of the Lord, genuine obedience = integrity

Job 13:15
Though he slay me, I will wait for him. Nevertheless I will argue my ways before him.

- Intimate struggle. Face to face. Loving confrontation. Toe to toe. Heart to heart.
- A foundational belief in God's goodness and his justice.
- Hope is a sure thing...a light when darkness is obstructive
- Beauty in pain. Purpose in suffering. Deliverance.

Psalm 25:3
(NIV) No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame...
(NASB) Indeed, none of those who wait for you will be ashamed...

- Interesting...hoping and waiting. Waiting and hoping. Not necessarily are they interchangeable, but they are definitely inter-related.
- To wait: Put trustnd faith in God. To hope
- To hope: Success based on God's will and purpose and timing. To wait on God.

Psalm 25:21

(NIV) May integrity and uprightness protect me, because my hope is in you

(NASB) Let integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you.

- If I wait/ hope in the Lord...my righteous lifestyle will protect me.

The Revolutionary

2005-04-29T07:19:00.000-07:00

"I suppose you will hesitate to consider yourself a mystic or a revolutionary, but when you have eyes to see and ears to hear you will recognize him in your midst. He is sometimes undeniably evident to the point of irritation, sometimes only partially visible. You will find him in the eyes of the guerrilla, the young radical or the boy with a picket sign. You will notice him in the quiet dreamer playing his guitar in the corner of a coffeehouse, in the soft voice of a friendly monk, in the melancholic smile of a student concentrating on his reading. You will see him in the mother who allows her son to go his own difficult way, in the father who reads to his child from a strange book, in the loud laughter of a young girl, in the indignation of a Young Lord, and in the determination of a Black Panther.

You will find him in your own town, in your own family, and even in the strivings of your own heart, because he is in every man who draws his strength from the vision that dawns on the skyline of his life and leads him to a new world.

In this new world that fills our dreams, guides our actions and makes us go on, at great risk, with the increasing conviction that one day man will finally be free -- free to love!"

from Henri Nowen's The Wounded Healer

Why do girls paint their toenails?

2005-04-19T15:35:00.000-07:00

This is the guy question of the day.

Disclaimer:

The answer to this question accurately reflects the views of this particular member of the "girl" gender and I would happily receive other comments as to why other girls paint their toenails. Guys, you can also respond, but I just want to let you know that I, as a member of the "girl" gender, have the right to tell you that you are completely and totally wrong. I would be interested, however, in receiving a cross-dressers perspective. I would find that very interesting...frightening...but interesting.

End of Disclaimer. Fake beginning of actual answer (This is in an effort to make this blog more user friendly and also to make my former English teachers happy that I have finally added in those guides for readers to follow my train of thought. Yes, I know that it might be a blunt way of doing it, but hey, whatever the public wants...I am their servant.) End of random parenthetical insertion.

Question in response to a dumb question.
Why should we reveal our purposes to you the "guy" gender? What would you do with this important information?

If your answer has anything to do with wanting to understand us "girls" better, then you are lying. If you truly wanted to understand us better then you would make it your mission in life to get pregnant and try to fit into the ridiculous clothing that we are practically being forced to wear by the fashion industry.

Question.
Why in the world does everything have "stretch" material in it now? Jeans for instance. If I wanted my clothing so tight that I have to cut myself out of them, then I would have auditioned for any number of female superhero/action hero roles. It is apparently a requirement of female superhero/action heroes to have to have something so tight that you have to practically blow-torch them on and off. What the public doesn't realize is that those clothes are actually permanent. Carrie Moss is now bound to her leather suit. That is the price of stardom.

Answer.
"Stretch" really is a cool word for Spandex...yes, Spandex...think speedos.
Let me set the record straight:

For some reason beyond everyone's imagination, Spandex was cool to wear in the 80s. HELLO! That alone is a good enough reason not to promote spandex as a wearable item.

Girls paint their toenails because it is a lot less surface area than a wall.

Napoleon Dynamite

2005-03-28T13:05:00.000-08:00

GOSH!
I am weak. I succumbed to the rage. I fell into the fad. I ran over the cliff with the lemmings. I jumped off the bridge because everyone else was. I was sucked into the vortex of peer pressure.

I was determined not to see this movie. I was told by many reputable sources that I would never receive back those couple hours of my life. I was also incredibly turned off by the ridiculous phrases that were being quoted endlessly. I became firmly grounded in the fact that I would not see it. I would not be one to waste my time or my life. Even those that love it think that it is absolutely pointless. I had made a conscious decision and I knew, just knew, that I was strong enough to trumpet my rebellion against MTV-driven conformity.

Somehow, I still gave in. I fell prey to the carnivore that is popular entertainment. I was swept away by the moment. I dove deep into the abyss of mindless drivel and could not pull myself out.

I even had people around me that were determined to remain strong with me. I knew that as a human, I am weak, so I made sure that surrounded myself with other people that had made the same decision. This worked for a while. We kept each other accountable in a way, reveling in the fact that together we were strong, we would not conform and our combined willpower was enough to combat the fiery darts of temptation.

The opportunity presented itself...harmless...fun...nothing else to do. It all of a sudden didn't seem like I was turning my back on a determined stand. It seemed that I was just doing something small. No big deal.During the film, I kept looking at the clock wondering when it would be over. It wasn't that funny, it had no point, and I was still watching it. Powerless. Lazy. Helpless. I felt that now that I have begun to go down that road, I might as well as continue to go down that road. I had already made the decision and it was too hard and seemed ridiculous to walk away. I was in too deep. Might as well stay here, the couch is comfy and it is too much work and too much explanation would be involved in getting up.

As the credits rolled and the true ending emerged, no sense of satisfaction was to be had. No sense that my decision made me the better for it. My mind raced with rationalizations, but reality set in...my willpower is not enough.

Napoleon Dynamite as a film... definitely a waste of time. Napoleon Dynamite as an honest look into the depth of personal weakness, the power of temptation, and the unforgiving steep slope that combination takes us down...priceless.

How do you capture a moment?

2005-03-20T10:41:00.000-08:00

How do you capture a moment?

Does a picture really do it justice? A smell can transport you to another time and remind you of vivid sights or emotional highs and lows. A mental picture can retain feelings that went along with the moment or a journal can describe details that foster remembrance.

But how do you capture a moment?

Everyone has times of beauty, love, and enjoyment that they wish that time did not shove violently behind them. We spend out lives wishing we could go back or waiting in eager anticipation for the next. When those moments grace out presence our hearts burst with joy, our souls resonnate with satisfaction. Is it even possible to really capture those moments?

Imagine a place where those moments were all strung together in a spontaneous melody. A place where our whole beings live in the state of the captured moment. Instead of being a moment, the choppy quality of time ceases leaving out hearts constantly full of joy, our souls at rest and fulfulled, our senses always overwhelmed by beauty that never fades, and the entirety of ourselves dripping with love and peace.

Forget clouds, white bearded men and harps...this is heaven...this is the presence of God.

Wrestling Match

2005-03-17T15:04:00.000-08:00

I...miss...God...

I am missing a lot right now...it's my fault. It's my choice to ignore. It's my choice not to prioritize.

I...need...help...

I know I cannot ask for time, that is not available to me. I can whine and buck and scream, but that will not change anything in regards to time, resources or involvement. Will I ever summit this mountain that I keep going around and around seeing the same scenery over and over again? Can we as the church ever move forward? We are like a car that can't seem to stop stalling...we start, we go, we die. We stop, we go, we stall. We grind, we scream, we stall.

I...want...to...move...forward.

What am I willing to give? What am I supposed to sacrifice? Don't ask me to do this alone, frightened and poor! The worst and the best things is that You know I would do it.

I...want...to...matter...

But at what cost? Money? Time? Effort? Family? Everything? Wrestle..fight..

WHY AM I ALWAYS ASKED TO GIVE IT ALL?!
I will...You know it...and You know that I want to! You know I love You!
WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO GO IT ALONE?!
I hate this...the lack of workers and work. So what are we going to do about it?
Fight...wrestle...
WHERE ARE YOU?!
I can't see it...I don't need to know. I just want to trust that there is a point. We have our inspirational and beautiful meetings...fine...when will it
make a difference?
Wrestle...struggle...
WHAT WILL IT TAKE?!
For people to get it? For ME to get it?

I have been waiting for "something" to happen. Whatever that is...wrestle...

Event-oriented faith? Movement oriented mindsets? It's like we...I...have been waiting for "revival" or "revolution" or "something" to happen. Is God just going to strike us with it?

This is about the heart. It's all about each person connecting, loving and wrestling with God. We can talk about "revival" and inspire, teach, preach, study, give the stats, come together and encourage the "cause"...

As for me, I will do all these things...

Find me locked in and embrace.
Find me face to face.

I will wrestle in intimate struggle until He makes me stop.
May I walk with the limp of one who has wrestled and been pinned by God.

Just in case...

2005-03-07T16:16:00.000-08:00

"Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People
who 'worry their prayers' are like wind-whipped waves. Don't
think you are going to get anything from the Master that way,
adrift at sea, keeping all of your options open."
(James 1 MSG - Italics mine)

I am very determined to "have all of my options open" just in case. Just in case of what? God drops me flat?! How does the old favorite gospel song go? "I don't believe He's brought me this far just to leave me..."

I want Plan A. Plan B is a cop out. It doesn't really exist for a life wholly devoted. What would Plan B entail anyways? Less risk, my will, mistakes that cause consequences that God didn't know about or plan for? Ridiculous! Plan B is not even a plan at all.

Anything that is worth having takes a measure of risk. Skydiving, for instance. Does the trainer tie a big rope to you...just in case? If the relationship you are in is godly and you know it, do you cover yourself with other plans or another person...just in case? When Indiana Jones stepped out onto the invisible bridge in Last Crusade, did he tie himself to the side...just in case? Faith and "just in case" are oxymorons.

No, we should not use full-throttle faith as an excuse to situationally debunk rational thought. Don't gamble with God and expect Him to bail you out of your stupidity. God is about risks, but He doesn't run a craps table or operate like a casino.

Faith is knowing and acting out that Plan A...the God-Option...is the only option. To keep other options open is simply idolatry.

Worry is symptomatic of a life lived with "other options." We have built our own shaky scaffolding on the side instead of working with God to build upon His firm foundation. We worry because we know we are not putting our faith totally on God's foundation....simply because we have been too busy building our own...just in case. We are not confident in God's architectural skills. We know how shaky ours is and we project that on God's design. We haven't spent the time getting to know God...so we do not trust His plans, His foundation, in short, Him.

I don't know if I am strong enough to take a sledge hammer to my plywood skyscraper just yet, but I will. Until then, I am going to let my structure for my life rot and collapse, while I go and let God teach me how to use a hammer.

Musings during my Valentine's date with God...

2005-02-24T14:58:00.000-08:00

"The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." T.S. Eliot "The Little Gidding"

I love music! I love creating music, and I love listening to music. I love that God put talent in people to play it. I love that God and I can enjoy a high school band concert together. I want to play again. I want to be a part of creating music again. I miss it. I miss the release and the beauty. People often speak of sporting teams, yes they have talent, but a piece of heaven is invoked and it invades the heart when instrumentalists pluck a string or when a vocalist lets their skilled voice alight the air in rapturous melody.

In response to hearing Jesu, Joy of a Man's Desiring:

You are all my heart longs for
You are the fulfillment of all I could ever desire, hope for or receive
I desire Your heart, Your touch, Your love, Your attention, Your beauty, Your ear,
Your kiss, Your creativity
My heart constantly sings in unbroken strain the mourning for heavenward and
the agony of promised beauty.
A taste! A touch! A word! A moment!
Love....a peace unmatched.

I do not regret being a band nerd. I never will. Football...whatever. What is created there? I have in me the capacity to put emotion into rhythm, heart into notes...and the work is so all unbelievably worth it! Discipline, detail, precision, beauty and dedication.

Warmup...the moments before tuning. It sounds like my life right now. Lots of really cool and talented strains all mushed together with the possibility of a symphony! It's confusing, frustrating and above all a strain. I wait for the tuning moment...where all is pulled together. Let it come together...let my life be a symphony!

God does reality better than we dream.

2005-02-21T13:34:00.000-08:00

I must believe the aforementioned statement. His plans are perfect...perfect. It is so tainted by how I have to perceive reality. It is so messed up by my evil and selfish desires. Yuck. I can dream well, not in a broad sense, but definitely in specifics. I can see vivid moments and ethereal snapshots of paradoxial possibility...but really nothing more. My best for His Kingdom is how it is. Not necessarily grandiose or earth-shattering in scope, purpose is the importance...my particular purpose. If that is surmised in a short, but fruitful life in His eyes, then I will not love my life when faces with death. If that means a life of earthly discomfort and earthly battle strengthened only by divine patience and divine peace, then I will not love my life when faces with tempting compromise.
No matter how much "drudgery" there appears to be or how tumultuous circumstances become, God has called me to live His reality and His dream. This is the adventure, this is the extraordinary. I don't, nor can I, in fact, live a life dedicated to the acceptable success or even to what could be considered an exciting life. My measuring rod for such ideals is in His approval, in His love and by His grace.
God does reality better than we dream.

And the Journey Begins...

2005-02-06T17:29:00.000-08:00

Thus begins my journey into the world of cyberspace and the "written" word. I would appreciate your comments please....honest feedback on the thoughts, poetry, story, dreams, apologetics, theology, and questions that you will find here.

Live to be the expression of God...