little victories

to persist in love

2012-02-14T13:25:00.000-08:00

"And when you get down to it, Lily,

that is the only purpose grand enough for a human life.

Not just to love but to persist in love."

Could there be any truer words?

I think about this a lot. And given that it's Valentine's Day, I thought I'd write some thoughts on love. As I hear story after story of love lost or just plain given up on, I can't help but find myself heartbroken over and over again. Once that feeling of "in-loveness" is gone (and it will come and go as all feelings do) relationships are just left behind and it makes me so sad. I was talking with my best friend (of 25 years- nobigdeal) over wine last night and we talked about how one can make that feeling last, how to keep the intensity and passion. I thought for a moment that of course it can last but I only let the idealist in me believe that for a fraction of a second. Of course that intensity of "in-loveness" can't last. We'd all be crazy fools in love, surviving on 10 cups of coffee a day and bumping into things and day dreaming all day. It would be crazy to think one could sustain that intensity of feeling and emotion (any emotion for that matter) for the entirety of their lives. Ha, I mean we would never get anything done. All of our other relationships and work would suffer and we'd never sleep a wink. Just because that "in-loveness" goes away or comes and goes in waves does not mean that love is gone. Love can be very much alive and strong but in a quieter deeper sense of the word. A love rooted not just in feeling, but in trust and commitment, grace and forgiveness.

That's when choosing to persist in love comes in. When we make the decision to love not just because we feel like loving someone or because we feel especially loved in that moment, but continuing to love when it's hard to and in moments when that feeling of "in-loveness" isn't felt.

We should all strive to love, to be in love and to persist in love.

And always, always, always be grateful for it.

On love and letters

2012-01-31T16:49:00.000-08:00

I read this article a couple nights ago that a friend had posted on her facebook wall. John Steinbeck, one the most well-known authors was also a prolific letter-writer. A book of Steinbeck's letters to family, friends and the like was just published called Steinbeck: A Life in Letters. I love letters, especially those of the handwritten variety, but I took to this letter especially. It's a sweet response to his eldest son, who had confessed to have fallen desperately in love with a girl named Susan while at boarding school. I couldn't love Steineck's response any more, we could all use these pearls of wisdom, I know I can.

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

fear is a beast

2012-01-16T19:26:00.000-08:00

Wouldn’t you know that just days after I write about my yearly resolution to be brave, I am reminded that to become brave you first have to be scared. Brennan Manning writes about people that aren’t prepared for their prayers to be answered. He says people pray for humility but they don’t prepare themselves to be humiliated. Every time I pray for courage and bravery, I forget that we don’t just receive these things, we learn them. We experience things that cause us to encounter humiliation or fear in order to learn humility or courage.

Fear is a beast

always lurking around every corner and always present in my peripheral vision even in my most contented moments.

After all this talk about how I feel a little more brave, I’m reminded that I have much farther to go and I am learning still.

Fear steps in, steals my breath, hollows me out and leaves me with just enough energy to close the curtains and lock the door. I am amazed at how quickly I throw my walls up when fear enters the room. I’ve had a lifetime of training in self-preservation and turns out, it’s not so easily unlearned, go figure. Once I feel that fear, it’s hard to choose courage; my words, my actions, my demeanor all turn themselves over to fear. Everything in me desperately fights to protect itself-and it gets ugly.

I’ve found that half the time I don’t even know the root of the fear in the moment. Fear knows my weaknesses and my wounds and knows just what will trigger that automatic response to sound the alarms. I’ve buried those things away. I have to dig and dig until I get at the root of the fear. It’s then that I have the choice to be hurt by it and bury it away again or I can acknowledge it for what it is, feel the weight of it and let it go. There’s a quote that I love that reads,

“the rain of grace pounds the dirt until life breaks through the mud and reaches for the sun”.

I just love that. It’s digging down deep, finding the root of the fear, letting grace in and allowing life to come out of it. It’s work. It’s not easy. It’s like soul gardening; it requires using mental muscles that I never use or haven’t used in years and at the end of it, I’m left feeling sore and tired, much like real life gardening. But, what I love about gardening is that sure I’m sore and tired and dirty at the end of the day but I can step back and look at the progress I’ve made. I can see something grow where I once thought nothing could and that is something to be thankful for.

this is the new year

2012-01-09T11:34:00.000-08:00

And cue, Death Cab for Cutie’s song…this is the New Year. It’s funny how different markers in life or the year almost warrant a reflection, a mandatory looking back of sorts. I always feel that way anyway. I like that though. I am a reflective person and any excuse to look back on where I’ve been and where I’m going refreshes me. In fact usually when I sit down to journal, without fail I spend a majority of the time re-reading old entries and transporting myself back, remembering how my heart was at a certain moment in time.

What did I learn this year? How did I grow? What did I do? How did I spend my moments? So many questions that I ask myself-maybe one or two that I actually have an answer to off the top of my head. Without fail, every year I am just amazed at how much can happen in a year. It’s been a really hard but really blessed year. If you had asked me a year ago what the year would look like, I could not have predicted or forecasted this year in the slightest. Time goes so fast but so much life and healing can happen in that amount of time.

This year I was a bridesmaid in two of my dear friend’s weddings. I went to Haiti for the third and fourth time to complete a portrait project and teach a trauma support seminar. I co-founded a non-profit for Haiti. My best friend and I held our very first photography show together in Seattle. I showed my Haiti photography at the Dragonfly and shared my love of Haiti and photography with my community in Portland. I started my own photography business. I started dating and am still dating the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I shot five weddings. I helped shoot a destination wedding in Mexico and rung in the New Year shooting a dear friend’s wedding in Spokane.

Every year, I make the resolution to be brave. Perhaps not the most specific resolution and most of the time if one doesn’t make a specific and achievable goal, it’s just not going to happen. But you know, even with my vague resolution or prayer, I feel a little more brave. Brave in work, brave in relationships, brave in faith. I In those little or big steps toward bravery, I’ve found that it’s worth it. A year ago I would have stayed safely where the risk is minimal or the reward assured and that only takes you so far. I always fall back on the quote, “may you always do what you are afraid to do”. The best things in life are a little scary because there’s risk involved which means it’s worth something. I think back on this year and think of all the amazing experiences and people I would have missed out on if I hadn’t said yes to those opportunities. This year has been rich and full and I am so very thankful for that.

“But in the books again, great joy through love always seemed go hand in hand with frightful pain. Still, he thought, looking out across the meadow, still, the joy would be worth the pain– if indeed, they went together. If there were a choice– and he suspected there was– a choice between, on the one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of safe, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths." (A Severe Mercy)

As I look ahead to next year. I can’t tell you what the year will look like, I was never any good at making a plan anyway, but I can tell you that it will surely be really rich and full, full of both joy and sorrow as our days always are, I just hope that I keep a thankful heart through it all. Here’s to the heights and the depths.

perspective

2011-12-20T21:47:00.000-08:00

Remember building the best fort ever?

And then how the dog charged through the living room and across the pillow and how the blanket slid out from the stack of books holding it down, and how the whole thing fell apart, but also how this broken down mess was what got you outside, out to that wide field where you found some jacked-up old wood and a random shoe, and then how you found yourself starting again, building something altogether new.

How you sat there with dirt under your finger nails, digging away.

And how the sun was setting and you looked up to see a new view emerging from across the wide field and over the lake.

A world that was waiting for you, but which you wouldn’t have seen if the dog hadn’t charged through the living room.

- Sabrina Ward Harrison

I thought about this little story tonight as a group of us talked at home community. It's such a quick story but the message to me is massive and hopeful. Things in life may not turn out exactly how I plan or hope but often times what comes after the collapse of one plan is something new and beautiful and different and good. I hope I always have the eyes to see that new view and the goodness that can be born out of loss.

little bits

2011-11-15T22:07:00.000-08:00

i saw an old man on the street corner yesterday blowing great big bubbles from his bike just as it started to rain and it made me so happy.

lovin' the song, 'your hand in mine' by explosions in the sky. the couple who's wedding i helped shoot this past week in zihuatanejo, walked down the aisle to this song. it's so pretty.

also lovin' the song, 'never let me go' off the new florence + the machine album. btw, this album is so great.

i want a dog more and more. while i was in mexico. on our beach stroll, this street dog just walked with us down the beach and back and then sat under our feet as we stopped for a beer-that cost one whole dollar (ohsogreat). reminds me of my beach walks as a little girl on the island. by the time i got to the end of the beach there'd be seven dogs by my side that joined me along the way. i just love 'em.

painful experiences are awful and i wouldn't wish suffering on anyone, but nothing connects people the way pain does, and i find that to be one of the most beautiful things. the redemption, if we have the eyes and privelege to see it is amazing and breathtaking, makes me heartfull and thankful and ultimately more faithful.

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

and lastly, love this quote.

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."
-Emerson

quote.

2011-11-02T21:42:00.000-07:00

"Charles Dickens tells us every heart is a profound mystery to the heart beating nearest it." Don Miller

and if you're curious of the original quote like I was...

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!" - Charles Dickens

just marinating on this little gem today.

hot potato

2011-10-24T22:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes an emotion will hit me upside the head, just right out of left field. After all this talk about sitting with pain and working through it. I definitely have those days in which I do that very thing and it's hard but it's also good. Then I have other days like today where it's like I'm playing that hot potato game, where you throw the potato around to others as fast as you can and you lose if you hang onto it too long, only it's my emotions that I'm tossing around. Throwing it right back before I even have the chance to be with it for even a moment. All I know is its discomfort, and the logical thing in the moment is to throw it right back before it has the chance to burn me.

I find myself thinking back to one of the first sermons I heard at Imago dei Community and the voice of a 92 year old woman saying the words, "hang on and hang in". You can listen to the sermon here.

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

(from The Invitation)

the long way around

2011-10-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning earlier than anticipated. I tried to curl back into sleep for rest’s sake but my stubborn mind wouldn’t rest. I stayed nestled in my bed (which continues to be the warmest place in the house since we as a house have refused to turn on the heat) and turned on some music. I found myself reflecting on life and faith and reading old journal entries. I sighed as I remembered so many moments just like this a couple years ago, I call it “cocooning”.

Cocooning was that time I gave myself to just be still and give myself the space to process and grow and the cozier and safer that space was the better. I had just bought this book, When the Heart Waits randomly on a sale table at Powell’s Books purely because she was the writer of my favorite book, The Secret Life of Bees. In this spiritual memoir of sorts she writes about butterflies and cocoons and waiting. I took in her words like a desert to rain. I related with so much of what she had to say but especially to the cocoon. For a time, she recalls being inundated with images of butterflies and cocoons. One instance, she recalls a poster of a butterfly against a great big sky, on it were the words “Your soul is your greatest work of art” and right down in the corner is the husk of an empty cocoon. A painful reminder that bright wings and works of art don’t just happen, they require courage and letting go and a time of becoming. I think the most fascinating thing about cocoons is that on the outside it looks as if nothing is happening and it looks like the caterpillar inside is hiding, but on the inside, change and transformation are taking place. The butterfly is becoming. The cocoon isn’t an escape but a transformation place.

It got me thinking about this season of life that was so painful. There were ways to escape pain sure, but I was making an intentional decision to face it and sit with it. Funny how easy that sentence was to type out but so incredibly difficult to actually do. I think it’s a natural desire to run from pain, to numb out or pretend it’s not there. It’s so easy to want to arrive, to be at a point where it doesn’t hurt anymore, where everything is perfect and just so. I had spent most of my life thinking if I don’t look at my pain then all would be well. Sure, it worked for a while but you know what? I still knew it was there and my fear of it just grew. When dealing with our wounds, it takes time.

“We went onto heaven the long way around.” -Henry David Thoreau

I love this quote, so much.

Makes me think of something I find myself saying often. The most rewarding things in life take time to build and grow. Most people want heaven now, like every other pleasure in life, instant happiness. Taking the long way isn’t seen as desirable but I would argue that it’s the only way to truly live. It’s long and arduous and oftentimes painful, but there is so much more wisdom to gain and grace to receive along the way. Every day I wake up and commit to taking the long way and I think my soul will be all the better for it.

a woman of strength and softness

2011-09-18T17:03:00.000-07:00

a friend of mine shared this poem with me when i was in malawi a few years ago. i scribbled it down in my journal then only to reread it this week. i think it's so beautiful and had to share it.

A Woman of Strength and Softness

Surrendered heart, not surrendered identity

a strength to be reckoned with

She does not demand respect

but you want to give it to her

Her presence invites you to rest

in fact she is like a tree

holding forth nurturing branches

not a spiderweb, trapping you for her soul food

Her vulnerability is so lovely

you cannot keep your soul out of hers

She is marked by genuine kindness

of one who has already forgiven you

for how you will fail her

She exudes the kind of strength

that trusts and waits and suffers

as unto God's purposes, not her own

She lays her own life down

like a lamb, not a dog

Her surrender flows from her love

not fear or desperation

Her surrender is a chosen thing

She lives in the vulnerability of her longing to be treasured

her longing to be known

her longing to be invited in

But she lets her disillusionment

tenderize, not toughen her heart

She does not hold the objects of her love captive

She does not make them pay

or tie them to her with guilt

or keep them in terror of her critical eye

But rather lets them fly free

Enjoying all the more the reunion

They get to choose to be with her

She lives at the mercy of no one

She is captive only to the Father

Thus she is free to love

Even if it means she loses

She chooses doing love over getting love.

Written by Lottie K. Hillard

The Impossible Dream

2011-09-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

To right the un-rightable wrong

To be better far than you are

To try when your arms are too weary

The reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star

No matter how hopeless,

No matter how far

To fight for the right

Without question or pause

To be willing to march into hell

For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true

To this glorious quest

That my heart will be peaceful and calm

When I'm laid to my rest

And the world would be better for this

That one man scorned and covered with scars

Still strove with his last ounce of courage

To reach the unreachable star

I was sitting in a coffee shop editing wedding photos and listening to Pandora this morning. Patty Griffin’s sweet and soulful voice was singing “top of the world” and at the song’s end came silence and then she continued on with “to dream the impossible dream”…

I felt my heart tug and I stopped, wondering why those words struck me so. Then I remembered that it was one of the songs that my Grandma would sing, just out of the blue or sometimes she would sing it to me over a voicemail on my birthday. It’s been a song that has woven itself into our relationship all these years. I’ve been hearing her sing those words since I was just a little girl. I don’t think I’ll hear her sing them again in this life. Dementia has taken her captive and she can scarcely remember anyone in our family. As I listened to those words, I’m taken back to a few years ago when I was visiting her in the nursing home and she kept telling me every other sentence how proud she was of me and how she loved me “to the max”. She was her sweet self, so full of joy and kindness. I took a bunch of hold-out pictures of us that day and we laughed and laughed at our own silliness. Then she walked over to the piano and played Impossible Dream and sang for me and it was so beautiful. I didn’t realize what a gift that day was. That was the last visit I had with the Grandma that I knew all these years. She’s different now and the disease has laid claim over her mind and body, but I am so glad I have that sweet day to remember her by.

I am a lyrics girl when it comes to music, so I was surprised that I had never really thought about the words to this song. Now, as I sit here reading the lyrics, I love the song even more. What a great life anthem; I may need to adopt this one as my own.

May we all dream the impossible dream.

quotage

2011-09-06T21:58:00.000-07:00

"We are undefinable. We are shades of masculine and feminine looking for someone to bounce life off of, looking for someone to give when we need to receive, to receive when we need to give, and when it's done right both get done at the same time. Being to being, here let me hold that soul for you because you've been... drowning in labels for so long you've grown tired of survival. Here is a moment of bliss, a moment of aliveness. All day long I expend. I hold together, I lift up, I give out, and sometimes... I just take in." ~ Lauren Zuniga

I will not wait to love as best I can

2011-08-19T00:50:00.001-07:00

"I will not wait to love as best I can. We thought we were young and that there would be time to love well sometime in the future. This is a terrible way to think. It is not a way to live, to wait to love." - David Eggers

I read this quote a while back and remember being taken aback like I had been smacked upside the head but was in a rush so I just jotted it on a piece of paper and shoved into a journal to remember to look at and reflect on later…then I forgot about it, until just recently when I decided I felt like writing again and found it in an old journal I hadn’t written in for ages. I unfolded the edges and read it again. And there it was again, that same smack upside the head.

I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to random things like writing papers and baking cookies. They always needed a little something extra; they were never quite right. The biggie of the bunch was love. To be able to love, I always thought, I needed a lot of work and I did and still do. I kept the thought in my head that if I can just fix this bad trait or this lack of trust or my fears, if I could just get my act together-then maybe I could love someone or someone could love me. If everything could be just so then…it could be great. The problem is, everything will never be just so. If everyone thought this way, nobody would ever love anybody. It would be a world without love, which is the saddest of all thoughts. Sure we may be not be the best at loving people, but it’s a process. All the great things in this life are a process; it’s like taking the long road, getting lost along the way but seeing so much more beauty in the meantime.

Recently, life and the circumstance at hand have me marinating on this whole idea of waiting to love. The thought I’ve kept coming back to over these past few weeks is that faith and love are a choice. We wake up every day and choose to love this person and this God. We arrange our lives in a way that will support them and grow those relationships. We strive to better them. But in the end, we’re human and flawed and we mess up and we make mistakes and we don’t love well. And in those moments, thank goodness for grace and forgiveness. We soak and sit in that grace. I love how Anne LaMott puts it, "I do not understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us." We grow and learn and we wake up to another day and we try again, to love fully and well. It's a process we learn to embrace and fall into the rhythm of. We will never love perfectly, not even in the future. But we can love the best we can, knowing that we are imperfect and it will be ridiculously tough at times. We can acknowledge it for the process that is is, and we will be all the better for it in the end.

It is not a way to live, to wait to love.

trust

2011-08-09T23:31:00.000-07:00

‎"how glorious the splendor of a human heart that trusts that it is loved." -b. manning

trust is one of those things in life that is so incredibly beautiful yet so impossible to quantify.

i hear it so often.

trust in the lord. trust me.

it's so easy to say and yet so hard to live.

it's so hard to trust when i can't see the road ahead.

it's so hard to trust when i don't know if the reward will outweigh the risk.

it's so hard to trust when i fear my heart will get broken.

yet,

somehow, in spite of the risk and the unknown

i choose to trust.

trust my intuition

trust that still small voice

trust that i am loved,

so dearly loved.

on love

2011-07-25T22:49:00.000-07:00

"When you're in love, you can't stop smiling, yet you can't smile enough."

-My Aunt Cathy

On Saturday, my cousin Brian got married to Jennifer, the love of his life. I couldn't be happier for the two of them and their new life together. Brian is a smiley guy to begin with but he was just beaming and giddy all day.

In the car as we were driving back to the ferry, we were reflecting on the day and talking about how happy B was and my aunt out of nowhere and so nonchalantly rattles off this beautiful but true string of words. "When you're in love, you can't stop smiling, yet you can't smile enough."

I just like that, a lot.

perspective. perfectly so.

2011-07-05T23:41:00.000-07:00

I was at work the other day, doing what i do, making coffee and joking around with the friendly faces I have come to love like family, when out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a little spider. I think I let out a little "eep" as it descended from the lamp right in front of my eyes. He was out of the way enough that I wouldn't touch him while serving customers and he didn't (to my knowledge) have the gusto to swing onto someone's date bar.

I kept glancing at him here and there to see what he was up to, and all I saw was him climbing up and then climbing down, walking over here and walking over there.

When the line ended and people had continued about their days, I leaned in close to the little guy and when I looked at a certain angle in a certain light, I caught a glimpse of a beautifully constructed web. Wow. I took a moment to be humbled and acknowledge the fact that in that past hour, I had served a few people some caffeine and some smiles while this little guy had been slaving away over a home and what a beautiful whimsical creation he made. I took in the moment, feeling like this little spider had taught me something, but I wasn't quite sure what.

There was so much going on. I was distracted. Even when I glanced at the spider, all I saw was the spider, not the incredible web around it. Spider webs are funny like that. Life is funny like that. The light had to shine just right for me to see it. But man, in that light that lit up the web just perfectly so, I could see all the little intricate patterns that fit together perfectly. It was like a symphony.

I'd like to think that if I had the chance to see my life in that same light that shines just perfectly so, that I would feel that same feeling of awe at the beautifully orchestrated symphony that is our lives. If only. Since I don't have the luxury of that perspective right now, I've decided to just live as if I did. Because, I do believe God is at work in every little intricate detail and I would be in complete and total awe if I had the eyes to see it all.

verse

2011-06-20T18:00:00.000-07:00

We don't yet see things clearly

We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist

But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright

We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us,

knowing him directly just as he knows us.

But for right now, until that completeness

We have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation;

Trust steadily in God

Hope unswervingly

Love extravagantly

And the best of the three is love.

I Corinthians 13:12-13

thankful, still.

2011-05-24T21:06:00.000-07:00

"Thankfulness depends on what is in your heart, not what is in your hand."

I've been marinating on this quote all day. My friend Rachelle has it written on the signature of her emails and every time I read it I have to stop and let it sink into my bones. Thankfulness is a posture and an attitude that we control. It does not depend on what we physically hold. We can have everything and yet keep ungrateful hearts or we can have absolutely nothing and be thankful still.

I've been learning how to be grateful in this season of looking for jobs. I have gotten my hopes up countless times only to be let down easy. It is so hard to put myself out there again and again, hoping that this one may be the one that works out, only to be brought to my knees again wondering why it didn't work out, why it wasn't the right fit. And that's where I find myself again tonight. I had wanted this one job to work out. It was perfect and I wanted it so badly. I let myself hope for it. I don't like to hope for things, it's risky and puts much at stake. I can't turn it off though- I am wired to hope. After a couple weeks of hoping, it was a blow to find out I didn't get the job. It bummed me out; it was an accumulation of all the let downs. I had my teary drive to work this evening, a blubbery phone call to my parents and a general bummed out attitude. And here I am, stuck on it. I'll let myself be sad for the night but I won't let it get me down. I'll wake up tomorrow and put myself out there again and keep hoping because that's the kind of girl my parents raised me to be, and I'm all the better for it.

God has plans for me, I truly believe that. I don't believe it just happened to be the case that I was able to raise funds and get enough time off work to go to Haiti three times this past year- to help and serve, to use my giftings and strengths in a way that empowered and helped in the restoration and rebuilding of Haiti. That time was just what my heart needed and I don't think that's coincidence at all.

I'm just waiting to see how God unfolds this little life of mine in His good and perfect timing.
And in the waiting, I am thankful, still.

Hinds Feet on High Places

2011-03-29T10:29:00.000-07:00

I've been reading this book, Hinds Feet on High Places for a few days now and just loving it. It's a beautiful allegory about spiritual journeys and highs and lows. Last night I opened it up where I had left off, a chapter on the desert. It's been so perfectly timed for this week and this season of life. Had to share it.

They stayed at the huts in the desert for several days, and Much-Afraid learned many things which she had never heard before.

One thing, however, made a special impression upon her. In all that great desert, there was not a single green thing growing, neither tree nor flower nor plant save here and there a patch of straggly grey cacti.

On the last morning she was walking near the tents and huts of the desert dwellers, when in a lonely corner behind a wall she came upon a little golden-yellow flower, growing all alone. An old pipe was connected with a water tank. In the pipe was a tiny hole through which came an occasional drop of water. Where the drops fell one by one, there grew the little golden flower, though where the seed had come from, Much-Afraid could not imagine, for there were no birds anywhere and no other growing things.

She stopped over the lonely, lovely little golden face, lifted up so hopefully and so bravely to the feeble drip, and cried out softly, "What is your name, little flower, for I never saw one like you before."

The tiny plant answered at once in a tone as golden as itself, "Behold me! My name is Acceptance-with-Joy.

'I come home'

2011-03-27T21:47:00.000-07:00

My lovely roomie passed along this gem of a song and it's just so beautiful that I had to share it.

I love the lyrics too, so darn good and haunting too.

I've listened to it a ridiculous amount of times already.

I tried to post the video but it wouldn't load, so you can click the link below to watch it on youtube.

enjoy.

I Come Home- Catherine Feeny

I come home
And I find myself alone again
And I need your voice on the phone
To remind me of how brave I am
Cause I get scared at night and I lose my heart
I see faces in my window, I hear noises in the dark
I lose my mind between the front door and the car
But you cannot run from demons
They know just where you are

And I buy draperies to keep me in
Cause I fear my heart is beating on the outside of my skin
And anyone who wants to can look on in
They will find me in my solitude
Yeah, sometimes in my sin

Cause these walls ain’t thick enough to keep out the sound
Of the ghosts who dance outside my door
They feed upon the ground
They stepped on from the heavens
They reach up from the mud
Their eyes are empty
They are looking for blood

There was a lady, she lived next door
She ain’t living anywhere anymore
No, she died slowly and full of pain
And I never saw her face and I never learned her name
But she visits me on some days
She asks me where I come from
She asks me why I stay

But she knows that I get scared at night and I lose my heart
See faces in my window, I hear noises in the dark
And I lose my mind between the front door and the car
But you cannot run from demons
They know just where you are
They know just where you are

And I come home
And I need your voice on the phone
I need your voice on the phone
I need your voice on the phone
I need your voice

To love somebody - Ray LaMontagne and Damien Rice

2011-03-14T22:57:00.000-07:00

Discovered this song as I was looking for songs to add to my playlist and oh. my. goodness. SO GOOD.

Two of my favorite artists singing a duet cover of the BeeGees, amazing.

I can't stop listening.

The Invitation

2011-03-14T00:18:00.000-07:00

I love everything about this.

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know

if you will risk

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are

squaring your moon…

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.

By Oriah © The Invitation,

Earthquake in Japan

2011-03-10T23:15:00.000-08:00

A huge 8.8 magnitude earthquake just hit Japan and tsunamis have followed. I just watched some footage of it ---> here on bbc news. I can't even believe it. My heart is breaking for all of those affected by the earthquake and tsunami. I can't imagine what that must be like to see your world literally drifting away from you faster than you can blink your eyes. Sigh. My heart goes out to them.

Mary Oliver

2011-03-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

"And now I understand something so frightening &wonderful-

how the mind clings to the road it knows,

rushing through crossroads, sticking

like lint to the familiar."

— Mary Oliver (Blue Pastures)

I am LOVING Mary Oliver quotes these days. I haven't read any of her work but I am thinking that I need to because I resonate with so much of what she writes.

I am marinating on this little ditty this morning. My minds know the roads it know and sometimes goes places and entertains certain thoughts just like it was on auto pilot. Like she writes, it's a frightening and wonderful thought. There are roads that I want my mind to know on autopilot and other roads I would like to be shut down and made into green pastures.

I run and run as the rains come

2011-02-14T18:29:00.000-08:00

I went for a run yesterday. Every couple of months I get a hankering for a good long run. Some potential financial stress and change on the horizon got my heart racing yesterday afternoon and in an effort to do as my body is programmed to do in a stress situation, in my own way I chose flight.

Interesting fact: In moments of stress or crisis, our bodies react. Our hearts race, our blood pressure goes up and there is that moment of panic. In this panic, we are programmed to either fight or flight as a way to release the adrenaline running through our bodies. Our culture has morphed this fight or flight release of adrenaline into a more sedentary, eat some chocolate, drink some wine and sleep it off mentality, or at least I have been known to take that route after a stressful day. However, this way of dealing with stress works against our bodies and we never have that release of adrenaline. It builds and builds until it manifests in other ways such as migraines or ulcers.

So, in an effort to solve this stressful moment with a more appropriate outlet, I ran. I got all my gear on only to walk out the door into the pouring rain. Why do I never look out the window before leaving the house? Oh well, I thought, I’m going anyway. I ran and ran, through the side ache, and the rain drops on my face. I ran to the park down the road and decided to swing on the swings, my favorite part of this particular running route. As I was swinging in the rain, I looked at the city or what I could see of it through the thick fog and I couldn’t help but think about the future. So much is unknown. I can make out an outline of this or that but it’s all fuzzy. There may be a lot that is unknown but there is so much that IS known and I was reminded of a Don Miller quote,

“We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax, and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word one for: LEAVE. Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”

Just some thoughts rolling around in my mind.

It is Valentine’s day and this hasn't been a Valentinesy post has it? I’ll end this post with some lyrics to one of my favorite songs by Mumford and Sons, which happens to start off with lyrics about running and rain. Full circle, eh? Eh?

And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come

And I look up, I look up,

on my knees and out of luck,

I look up.

Night has always pushed up day

You must know life to see decay

But I won't rot, I won't rot

Not this mind and not this heart,

I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand

And we stood tall,

And remembered our own land,

What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew

I saw exactly what was true

But oh no more.

That's why I hold,

That's why I hold with all I have.

That's why I hold.

Happy Valentine's Day

Much love.

Living With Hope

2011-01-17T22:40:00.000-08:00

Some words from Henri Nouwen...

Living with Hope

Optimism and hope are radically different attitudes. Optimism is the expectation that things-the weather, human relationships, the economy, the political situation, and so on-will get better. Hope is the trust that God will fulfill God's promises to us in a way that leads us to true freedom. The optimist speaks about concrete changes in the future. The person of hope lives in the moment with the knowledge and trust that all of life is in good hands.

All the great spiritual leaders in history were people of hope. Abraham, Moses, Ruth, Mary, Jesus, Rumi, Gandhi, and Dorothy Day all lived with a promise in their hearts that guided them toward the future without the need to know exactly what it would look like. Let's live with hope.

beautiful words

2010-11-30T09:21:00.000-08:00

This quote is speaking so much to me this morning. I love everything Annie Dillard writes. She has a wonderful way of words.

“I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wondering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them...” –Annie Dillard

I send you...

2010-11-26T14:47:00.000-08:00

I wrote this for a few different friends who are walking through some very difficult times.
These are my words to them.

I Send You

I send you warmth on a cold winter's night.
I send you quiet moments to be still in the presence of your God.
I send you a tiny spark into your darkness
to light your way when you don't know which way is up and which way is down.
I send you hope in the most unlikely of people
to speak a kind word into your ear
or a smile into your eyes.
I send you freedom from secrets and expectations you've long held onto.
I send you freedom to change and to grow into the person you were created to be
and patience in the process.
I send you the strength to be laid bare and broken and vulnerable
before a community that loves you
and a God that loves you even more.
I send you peace in those moments of despair and loneliness.
I send you truths and stillness to calm your anxious thoughts
to give your weary body rest.
I send you strength and courage
to sit with the anger, the pain, the guilt, the disappointment, the sadness, and the loss,
to watch it change shape, soften and transform
into something new and holy and good.
I send you powerful moments of knowing
deep down in your bones and insides that you are kept and you are loved.
I send you grace.
I send you grace into darkest corners of your being,
places you wish to be left unseen.
I send you the lightness that comes with a burden lifted and sins forgiven.
I send you the feeling of God's love
in every pulsation of your heart and every breath let free from your chest.
You are so deeply loved.
Know that.

heart full of thanks

2010-11-26T14:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wake up less than excited about life. Sometimes I just want to curl up in my bed and forget the world around me and sleep away the day. I have the tendency to lose myself in those darker places and shut the curtains on the world around me. I don't always know where it comes from; sometimes it's weather induced, other times it's situational. I'm tired of waking up less than excited about life, because life is something to be excited about.

I've started a new morning ritual and it's made all the difference.

Right when I wake up, before my feet touch the floor, I grab my laptop from the floor and write in my word document, "heart full of thanks". Each morning I just make a simple list of things I am thankful for. Sometimes it's a long list and sometimes it's short. Sometimes they are trivial things and sometimes they are meaningful things. It has done wonders for my attitude. I start my day in a posture of gratitude and praise.

I just read something I had scribbled from a sermon I had heard in college.

Praise is the permanent pulsation of the heart

Praise and gratitude should be like the rhythm of our hearts. We breathe in the brokenness, joys, sorrows and heartache that life often brings and we breathe out praise and gratitude. Each breath is an opportunity to see all that is in and around us and to be grateful. Grateful because we know we are being kept by one much greater than ourselves.

"It will all be okay"

2010-11-14T00:43:00.000-08:00

There is a young homeless woman who frequents our coffee house. I have gotten to know her story a bit over the past few weeks in brief snippets of conversation. Rarely does she come in for more than hot water for a sample tea bag that she received at the co-op next door. But today, she came in excited to buy a hot chocolate. She was able to pan-handle more than she needed for a place to stay tonight and was excited to be able to purchase a treat that would double as a hand warmer in the dropping temps.

As I made her drink, we chatted about how it had been a rough couple days and she had barely found the time to sleep, with having to leave the awning where her and her husband sleep by 7am before the cops come and tell them to leave. The rain and the colder nights that have moved in with the winter's air make it difficult to truly rest and I could tell it's starting to wear on her.

She paid for her drink with a five dollar bill and I handed her a couple dollars and some change in return. She paused for a second looking at the dollar bill on top and then said, "huh, that's strange." I questioned what she was referring to and she showed me the bill that had,

"it will all be okay :)"

simply written across the bill. She smiled and turned away and I got goosebumps and felt confident that those words came across the eyes that needed to see them most.

bikes, bridges and new phones

2010-10-11T15:51:00.000-07:00

Can I just say real quick that today is the most beautiful and perfect of fall days in Portland.

So sunny and crisp and chilled.

I went running after work last night (I'll pause for a gasp because I rarely run, ever).

Then, I rode my bike to work today (allow for second pause...). I decided to ride my bike after I looked at the weather last night and felt the beginning pains of sore legs. It's best if I keep them in motion so as not to feel the pain of working out once every four months.

The run and the bike ride were perfect.

I might even do it again.

Back to the reason I am writing this post anyway. I got a new phone, a fancy phone with all the frills. The best thing about it is that I am paying less per month than I was before because I am now on a family plan with some friends, score.

One of the main reasons I wanted a fancy phone was navigation, but I'll write about that another time.

More so, I wanted a fancy phone for the fun camera apps and mobile upload.

I am all about it. I'll probably be an over-poster, but I can't help it. It's just that so many times during the day, I think, "this is so cool/pretty/awkward/strange, somebody needs to see this." and now it's possible. I can share those moments with people. YES.

A couple shots from my ride to and from work over the Broadway Bridge.

Such a pretty ride. I am lucky to live where I do.

The Guest House

2010-09-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

My friend Janine, the beautiful soul that she is, sent along this lovely poem. It's been a week of ups and downs and heavy thoughts. And I just keep coming back to one of my favorite songs by The Weepies, The World Spins Madly On. Janine sent this along with the subject line "Sometimes when the world spins too madly, I like to read this poem". I love it. Sometimes I am sent words at just the right time and this was one of them. Thank you Janine :)

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Camp Hope, Haiti

2010-09-27T23:14:00.000-07:00

I've just returned from my second trip to Haiti. I have so many thoughts running rampant through my mind and haven't quite found the words to explain them all. I'm not sure I ever will. Last week, I was with Haitians living in a refugee camp in Fond Parisien. Their entire lives are held within a small tent, and their belongings inside could likely be held in a single bag. I found that even though many own but a few possessions, the one thing many hold most tightly is their God.

Our translator Thomas had written verses and statements of belief all around the outside of his tent so that every time he came home he would see and be reminded of God's promises. He spoke confidently about God's love and faithfulness and how his faith in Jesus was all he needed in these tough times. I admired the way he so fearlessly and confidently he talked about his faith.

In the past few years I have seen God work in amazing ways. I've seen Him restore hope to lonely and broken hearts. I've seen him bring redemption to seemingly irredeemable circumstance. I've seen him bring joy where there was once only sorrow. I know that God is faithful and I know he will restore and rebuild what has been broken. And I believe that He will comfort all who mourn and rebuild and restore the places long devastated.

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.

Isaiah 61:1-4

I Feel It In My Bones -Tegan and Sara

2010-06-10T18:37:00.000-07:00

These Blogotheque Takeaway Shows are awesome. I always get sucked into watching a zillion of them. I just love live music. I don't have much music by Tegan and Sara but they are one of my favorites to watch live. Their voices are just so unique and together just so beautiful.

Enjoy.

Happy 100th Birthday Bobby

2010-06-07T13:49:00.001-07:00

One of my customers told me the most beautiful story this morning, sad but beautiful. Stewart ordered his two double espressos and was coming back into line to receive his second. We had already cycled through the two minutes of small talk that accompanies most coffee orders in the amount of time it takes to pay and get one's coffee. So with talk about the weather and the weekend behind us, he gently throws into conversation that his grandfather passed away early this morning. It fell out of his mouth so delicately that I had to ask again to make sure I had heard correctly. He nodded and elaborated a bit more saying that he passed away first thing this morning, and they as a family knew it was coming and that death was imminent. The man had been saying all along that he would live until he was 100 years old. He was set on it, a ripe long life of 10o years. Stewart went on to say, "today is his 100th birthday...they called me this morning to tell me he had awoken this morning, smiled widely and said 'I am 100 years old today. I made it.' ..and just a couple minutes later he passed away silently into the morning." It gave me chills right then and there. I was holding Stewart's espresso, feeling the chills on my skin and watching the line of customers grow. Wow. What a story. This man had willed himself to live to one hundred. That was his goal. At 100, he could move on from this life into the next, knowing he lived a full century, a century full of stories, laughs, adventures, travels and millions of moments of love and sadness. Today, his family is sorrowful but will remember in awe today and always the life he lived and his sheer will to live and die on his own terms. His name was/is Bob; though most knew and loved him as Bobby. I told Stewart they should all buy birthday hats, streamers and balloons and cheers to a long life lived full and well.

Happy Birthday Bobby.

You are so loved.

Paul and Paul

2010-06-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

The name Paul is being redeemed in my life.

I met a man named Paul about a year ago. I met him through a community at my church. He had asked some of the church leaders about getting involved in a community. I had some time in my schedule as classes were winding down and summer was rolling in and I offered to contact him and help him get involved. Our first meeting was at the Taco Bell down the street from his house. We had some pretty intense conversations and I felt that God had crossed our paths with purpose and I was excited for the ways that both of us were being stretched in knowing each other’s life stories. We were connected in the pain that we carried. Not as much in experience but in the feeling of carrying a burden much larger than ourselves. Rather suddenly, our acquaintanceship/friendship was ended when he asked me never to call him again. He told me I would never understand the extent of the things he had been through, and he was right, I would and will never know what he has lived through and see the things that he has seen. He told me then that he prayed with all his strength for God to take him away and for me to not contact him and he hung up the phone.

I sat there and stared at my cell phone for what felt like hours and sighed. I’m not one to blatantly do what someone tells me not to. If someone doesn’t want me in their life, I’m not going to force it. I’ll honor that. I felt like someone placed a brick on my chest. I wanted so desperately to call him back to tell him over and over that there was hope. That there is so much more than pain and sorrow. That he is loved and the pain he was experiencing wouldn’t be forever.

The whole experience left me feeling uneasy and sad. I wanted so badly to know how Paul was doing and to check in, but he asked me not to call, so I tried my darndest to let it go. It couldn’t have been more than one week when I was working at the coffee house and a homeless man walked in offering to sweep our sidewalks for a bowl of soup and a bagel. “That sounds like a fair trade, deal,” I said. “What’s your name?” I asked. He followed me to the back as I went to grab the broom and answered, “Paul”.

He must have thought I forgot to breathe or something because after an uncomfortably long pause, I answered, “It’s really great to meet you, Paul. I’m glad you’re going to help us out today.”

I laughed to myself at the fact that less than a week had passed and another Paul had crossed my path. I had a feeling that this Paul would be an impactful person in the same way that the first Paul I met had been and I was right, Paul began coming into the coffee house daily. He would help out with sweeping or washing the windows, but as the seasons changed and there were no longer leaves to sweep, we just invited him in to have a meal and to talk with him. He told us the story of how he came to be homeless, how he graduated with an MBA so many years ago and used to own a fancy sports car. It became part of my day to see Paul and to check in with him. I would always offer him food and sometimes he would decline and I would insist, “at least take a little for later” I would say. One day he confessed to me, “I’m not really hungry most of the time when I come in here. You guys talk to me like a real person. Nobody else talks to me out there.” We had a great friendship going, Paul and I, but it didn’t stay great for long. When I first met Paul, he hadn’t been on the streets for very long and as the weeks passed by, he became more and more sad and each day his hopes of getting off the streets died a little more. He began using his money for alcohol and not for food and showers. He would come in slurring his words and reeking of alcohol. Several conversations were had but ultimately we had to tell Paul that he was only welcome at the coffee house if he were sober and that was a decision he was going to have to make for himself. Months went by and no one at the coffee house had seen or heard from Paul. I felt that same uneasy feeling that I had felt months before when the other Paul asked me never to call him again. Sigh…Once promising relationships had disappeared and left me wondering what had become of them both and worried about where their paths may have led.

Several months had passed since Paul had asked me not to call when one evening my phone rang while I was in a meeting. I glanced at it and saw his name across the screen. I watched it ring silently and watched the missed call replace his name. I hoped and hoped for a voicemail and a minute later, a voicemail message appeared. I listened after my meeting shocked at what I was hearing, “Hi Shannon, this is Paul, blast from your past! …Just wondering why I haven’t heard from you in ages. Call me back.” I was so confused. His voice was chipper and cheerful and hello, he asked me not to call. I called him back and he acted as if no time had passed. He was cracking jokes and quoting verses from the Bible. He’s smart as a whip like that. Our friendship was back on track and he apologized for the way things had ended before and told me he was ready to be in community and to seek help. He’s been coming to the recovery groups at our church and has never been better. He has remained a good friend of mine and thanks me again and again for being a friend to him. Just my knowing him through the seasons and through the rough patches of life, I have been stretched and grown and ultimately have become a more gentle and persistent person. I have been so thankful for him and his will to keep on even when life seems like too much and when he wants to just fold his cards and bow out of the game. He survives.

If this blessing weren’t enough, maybe a week had gone by after I had reconnected with Paul when I was working at the coffee house and who walks through the door but my old friend Paul. I barely recognized his cleanly shaven, tanned and slim face. His smile stretched from ear to ear as he greeted another coworker and I heartily and happily. He said he only had a moment but wanted to stop in and see his favorite people. He told us about his new job and his holidays with his family and how he had been clean and sober for a couple months. Me and the gal I was working with were just glowing. All of us that work at the coffee house had been worried about him and where he might have been. Last we had seen him, he was not in good shape and the weather was getting below freezing at night. But here he was, standing right before our eyes, alive and well, making jokes and asking us about our lives. Oh man, it was a glorious and happy day.

After he left the coffee house, I swear I just stood there smiling for a good hour. Two Pauls had come into my life and then out of my life. I thought that was it, I thought the name Paul would always stir that sense of worry and unease in me, but here I am writing about the two of them and the joy just bubbles up in me. The things they have been through and seen, I will never know, but I am so encouraged and filled with hope in knowing them and their unfailing desire to keep living and giving thanks in the midst of it all.

"love to the max"

2010-05-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

Today, I imagine, my grandmother is sitting in her wheelchair in the nursing home she now calls home or another four letter word starting with "h". She is frail and small and feisty. She is no longer the sweet presence she once was. We mourn the loss of her as she sleeps more and more and remembers less and less each day. Her body has been claimed by an awful disease we call Alzheimer's. It is so hard to come to terms with the fact that this is my grandmother, the woman who is remembered by most she has ever met as one of the sweetest women they have ever met and was voted citizen of the year many moons ago. How does one reconcile the loss of the woman she once was?

My best guess is by remembering the woman that she once was and that I believe is still inside buried in the darkness of this tragic disease. Rhea was born in the 1940s on Bainbridge Island during the boom of the Port Blakely Lumber Mill. She was the last of five children and quickly named "her father's darling". Her high school years were seemingly idyllic. She was a cheerleader, sang in the glee club, and played in the orchestra. Lest you think she was all roses and dresses, after learning how to drive a Mack truck, she quickly became known as the girl who could "double-clutch like an old pro". She was sunshine and auto grease. She'd drive trucks with the best of them in the morning and later waltz and Jitterbug the nights away.

Growing up, I couldn't get enough of Grandma's house. I remember hours and hours of play in her attic. Dressing up in her old clothes and playing on the old rocking horse and creating endless imaginary tales and scenes. The aroma of her goulash creation, perhaps the one entrée she knew how to cook is stamped in my memory along with the cans and cans of Diet Coke lining the fridge. I felt safe in her house, running up and down the stairs and in and out of rooms lost in a fairytale wonderland my cousins and I had created.

Her house may have been safe but her driving was a whole other animal. I don't think she once wore a seatbelt. She would zip around the island at least 20mph over the speed limit in her little sports car. I remember she let my cousin Erin and I squeeze in the back seat for a joyride around town. The wind blowing our hair every which way made us laugh 'til we thought we might pee our pants or fear we might swallow a bug. I loved every second sitting behind my Grandmother driving fast just to feel the wind in her hair. That may have been the only joyride as our parents were less than thrilled that we had been driving with Grandma and without seat-belts. I didn't walk away from that one without a record breaking lecture around driving safety.

She was a woman who had a kind word to say about everyone she encountered. She knew everyone and we could rarely go anywhere with her without being stopped every ten feet with another friend stopping to say hello. She is one of those island staples of my hometown. People I've met throughout the years who happened to have been to Bainbridge maybe a handful of times will jump in excitement when I tell them my grandma is the sweet old woman they remember from the small little grocery store or the little ice cream shop. She left an impression of kindness on everyone who crossed her path. It brings me comfort to know that so many people will remember my Grandma for the compassionate, loving, and vibrant presence that she was so many years ago. I know that piece of her is still inside, but it's such a shame that it just appears for fleeting moments like shooting stars. But for those of us who catch a glimpse of those precious moments, we are blessed.

She used to call me every year on my birthday and sing me happy birthday while playing the piano and signing off with "love you to the max". It was the most precious gift I received every year. This is the first year I didn't get a call from her, but I will definitely remember when she did.

love to the max.

This video is from a couple years ago during one of those precious moments, sorry for the sidewayziness..

love you to the max, grandma. :)

Joy

2010-05-08T10:25:00.000-07:00

"Do not look for rest in any pleasure , because you were not created for pleasure, you were created for joy. And if you don't know the difference between pleasure and joy you have not yet begun to live."
-Thomas Merton

Andres

2010-05-08T01:41:00.000-07:00

I can't get this boy out of my head.

I met him at the Love a Child field Hospital in Haiti.

His smile made me melt from the start. He had so much joy and pain and life in him and he shared that with us. That boy, he's a fighter. And I can't stop thinking about his story and the scar on his face.

I look at scars in a completely new way after my time in Haiti.

Just the other night as I was looking through some of my pictures from Haiti, I found myself thinking about scars. I thought about how people often want to hide their scars or buy creams to make them disappear. We want to hide the fact that we were hurt. I thought about how scars are often conversation starters because there is a story behind every scar.

I thought about Andres.

Scars show us and others that though we have been hurt, we survive.

Andres was caught in the rubble during the earthquake. He survived the building's collapse while many others did not. Andres now has a large scar on his forehead. In some pictures of him, the scar almost resembles a lightning bolt. Behind this scar is a story, a sign of the hurt he has experienced, a sign that though he has been hurt, he survives. Though it may remind him of the pain he experienced. It will remind him that he is still here. It is a sign of God's goodness and protection. For years to come, he will wear the marks of the earthquake on his face for everyone to see. For years, people will ask about the scar on his face and he will be able to tell them about the devastation he experienced and survived. He will be telling the story of how God has shaped him into the boy he is today and the boy he will be in the future.

His scars will ultimately tell a story of hope.

There will be marks of the earthquake on the bodies and hearts of the people of Haiti for years and years to come, but these marks will tell a story of survival in the midst of sorrow and devastation. A mark to all around them that they continue on. They refuse to give up. They are the resilient ones that stand as a reminder to the world around them that life is here for living, even in the midst of hurt.

The thing about scars is that we all have them. Whether they are physical scars or emotional ones, we have all been hurt, yet we survive.

Our scars weave us together. No one is exempt from suffering.

May our stories and our scars encourage and remind us that we are all in this together.

Haiti

2010-04-01T13:01:00.001-07:00

Friends, I am headed to Haiti next Tuesday for ten days.

I am so so so excited for this opportunity, my buttons could just burst right off. From the second I heard about the earthquake, my heart just broke for all the people and the country as a whole. I wanted so badly to go and be with the people and help. Just a few weeks ago everything unfolded so perfectly and fast for me to join a medical and counseling team. We'll be working in a medical clinic in Haiti and doing some counseling there and then the counseling part of our team with head into Port Au Prince to lead a conference for Haitian counselors and locals on counseling techniques and coping skills. It couldn't be more perfect.

I have never enjoyed the process of fundraising and asking people for money for trips like this but this trip was completely different. Everything just fell right into place and donations came in from close friends and from family and from people who I don't even know. I was completely humbled at the generosity of the people I surround myself with and not just with funds but with encouragement and support and excitement. I am so so grateful for it all.

It just affirms to me that this is where I am meant to be and what I am meant to be doing right now. I am so thankful for this opportunity to give of a skill that I have and to be present in the midst of both joy and sorrow and to bear witness to the lives of those who have been through immense tragedy yet choose to fight each day for more.

It's work like this that makes my heart come alive and as this great man says,

"Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." -Howard Thurman

Thank you all for standing by me and helping me to do the work that makes me come alive.

For that I am forever grateful.

trust

2010-03-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

Sometimes life is just hard. It’s been one of those weeks.

Needless to say, it had been a long day and I was emotionally spent. I was closing down the coffee house and sweeping the floors like I always do. Sometimes it’s nice to just have a routine to fall into and just do mindlessly. The pile of dust and coffee grounds and crumbs collected at my feet when I looked down and right there in that gross pile of garbage was the word trust. I stopped and bent down and just looked at the word. Someone had torn the word out of a magazine and it was jagged around the edges and covered in coffee house debris. I smiled and let out a sigh and was thankful for a perfectly placed reminder.

Trust.

Life gets messy and complicated and starts to look like a pile of garbage, but even in the midst, I choose to trust that one day all that is broken will be redeemed.

I taped the word to my phone to remind me throughout the day.

photo shennanigans

2010-01-03T23:41:00.000-08:00

So, I've decided to accept the challenge to take one picture every day and post it to a blog as part of the 365 Project. Simply put, one picture a day for three hundred and sixty five days (one year).

I love taking pictures and this will keep me doing what I love and keep the creative mind fresh.
If you would like to be awesome and join me in the 365 challenge... Please go to blogger.com and set up a blog. Then come here and leave a link to the blog so we can follow each other.

Follow my daily photo shennanigans here!

here's a sample with today's photo.

Presence

2009-12-23T00:55:00.000-08:00

Presence is important to me. As we become more and more connected on all these various social networking sites and via cell phone, email, etc. it seems that we are everywhere else but right here. I have always been a big fan of people who are able to be present in the moment, keeping with me in place and conversation rather than away in thought or texting land. I feel it’s important to give people the attention they deserve. It’s looking people in the eye. It’s listening. It’s following. It’s interest. I feel like royalty in those moments when someone listens intently, genuinely interested in what I am saying or whatever is happening and all it takes is presence.

It brings me back to a motto our team had in Malawi, “Love the person in front of you”. That’s exactly what presence is. Whoever it is, giving that person your time and attention is an act of love. I think of great leaders I’ve met and spent time with. They were very busy and important people but I wouldn’t have known it from our interactions because they gave me their full attention and their time. It wasn’t a lot of time, but it was valuable because they were present with me.

You never know what difference that might make in someone’s day. For a checker at the grocery store, your presence may brighten their day. For a family member or friend, your presence may reaffirm that you care, that they are worth it. For a homeless person, your presence may bring dignity and respect. For the people in front of you, your presence is infinitely precious.

Be present.

The Swell Season

2009-12-18T08:45:00.000-08:00

This post is for Derek, who was not pleased with my last music choice, who left a comment and called to tell me so. I feel like I should post some music I think he'll like to keep him as one my five blog readers.

I made Derek watch Once a while back and to my surprise, he actually liked it. When I am a huge fan of something and make an effort to say so, it seems to be a rare case that he will actually like said something. So I'm going to roll with that one and post a couple videos of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova from the Swell Season.

The first one is pretty and angsty at the same time and one of the best songs I've ever seen performed live. My guess is you'll like it. And the second one is kind of sad but beautiful..

Where The Road Meets the Sun

2009-12-14T11:04:00.001-08:00

i am loving these two right now.

I wish I had Katie Herzig's voice.

I also wish I had known that it was Matthew Perryman Jones that came into the dragonfly before I told him he couldn't come in because we were closed. If I had known, I would have invited him in, made him coffee and asked him to sit and chat with me by the Christmas tree.

And lastly, I wish that there was a button or some sort of capitalization button that would go through everything I write and capitalize for me. Most of the time I write everything in lowercase letters but sometimes I think, 'hey maybe I'll write like a normal person and capitalize'. It would be much easier to just hit a button rather than going back and deleting and capitalizing...Gosh, it takes so much effort to do things like everyone else..

I am my Father's daughter

2009-12-10T10:07:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting in my bed feeling the warmth and heaviness of blankets and down. It’s absolutely winter outside and I can hear the icy wind blowing outside my window mixed with the sweet melodies playing from my computer. It’s a mellow evening at home, a night where there are things I could do but I shamelessly choose to do none of them and just sit in the warmth of my thoughts and music. It’s from my bed that I catch my reflection in the mirror and see a face that is like my mother’s in so many ways and still there are a couple features remind me that I am my Father’s daughter, like that widow’s peak of a hair line or the pug face wrinkles that appear on my forehead when I make various expressions.

I found out this week that my Dad’s cancer is gone. The surgery was a success and he is cancer free (!!). Oh what a sweet phone call to receive. To hear my Dad on the other line telling me that he’s in the clear and that we don’t have to worry any longer was the biggest relief. I could finally breathe again.

I’ve spent a lot of time lost in my own thoughts since my Dad found out he had cancer. I traveled down the countless paths that could have been with each diagnosis or treatment and what each would look like in our family and in our relationship. I held my breath as I thought about losing my father without ever really knowing him. There are customers at the Dragonfly that I know better than my own dad. That fact alone makes my heart sink. I want more than that.

That’s enough of a start for me. The fear of losing my dad is enough for me to get my act together and have the sort of relationship with my dad that we never had, the kind where I can call him without any reason but to say hello, to watch football together and actually understand the terms he throws around as easily as I do laughter, to go out for breakfast and feel at ease in conversation and the generous amounts of syrup we pour over everything (Hannon’s have a wicked sweet tooth), and mostly to feel that I haven’t missed out what could be an amazing relationship that has been so close yet so far away all these years.

The Sacrament of Letting Go

2009-12-04T12:01:00.000-08:00

I was swinging in the park yesterday during my run yesterday. It's true, I went running. And it probably won't happen again for at least a week or two as my quads hurt super bad. That's what I get for working out once every couple months... Anyway, I was looking at this huge mama tree as I was swinging and singing with my ipod and watched a leaf fall to the ground. At first, I just watched it sway back and forth with the wind and the pretty spiral of orange that was the leaf's journey. Then I looked back up at the tree to see the other leaves and they were all gone. I watched this last leaf fall. It was a cool moment to reflect on the loss of that last leaf and the end of a season. Winter is here.

This poem is amazing, by the way...

The Sacrament of Letting Go
by Macrina Wiedekehr

Slowly she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.
First she surrendered her green,
Then the orange, yellow, and red.
Finally she let go of her own brown,
Shedding her last leaf-

She stood empty and silent, stripped bare.
Leaning against the winter sky,
She began her vigil of trust.
Shedding her last leaf,
she watched it journey to the ground.

She stood in silence wearing the colors of emptiness,
her branches wondering, "How do you give shade with so much gone?"

And then the sacrament of waiting began.
The sunrise and the sunset watched with tenderness,
Clothing her with silhouettes that kept her hope alive.
They helped her to understand that her vulnerability,
Her dependence and need,
Her emptiness, her readiness to receive,
Were giving her a new kind of Beauty.

Every morning and every evening,
They stood in silence,
And celebrated together the sacrament of Waiting.

thankful in the midst

2009-11-21T15:15:00.000-08:00

The seasons seem to be changing again and I feel as though hard things come around in the winter. I have a hard time thinking of a winter that wasn't tough. The leaves change into glorious colors all vibrant and bright and then they fall leaving everything barren.

As hard as it is, I appreciate the rawness of winter. There are no leaves, less color, gray skies and a season of waiting of anticipating, of advent.

Thanksgiving is next week and though I have an abundance of things to be thankful for, it's hard to be thankful when cancer becomes part of the equation. Walking alongside my Dad as he awaited tests, results and the end result of cancer was and is not an easy path to tread. He is going in for surgery on Monday. My family and the doctors are hoping a surgery will be all that is necessary so please pray with me.
I know I am not ready to even think about where the path might lead. I feel far too young to think about losing my parents. I fear the path ahead but I also have a great hope that a transformation is possible; in the medical outcome and in our relationship. God does his biggest work when we're at our worst and I am holding onto that trust that He will be faithful in the work He has begun. I'm thankful for a lot of things God has done, but I'm hanging onto the gratitude that I'll feel for the work He will do.

a quote from my favorite pastor in Seattle, Richard Dahlstrom,
We think that gratitude is all about remembering the good things God has done for us and giving thanks. Surely this is a piece of gratitude and thanksgiving. If we limit our thanksgiving to recalling the gifts that God has given us, we will miss most of the story, because most of the story is about how God transforms us right in the midst of challenges in this fallen world...
So perhaps this is the year when we'll give thanks, less for what's happening in this present moment (though God knows that there's still plenty of reasons for gratitude if we take even a cursory look around us), and more for what God will do as we collectively walk through these 'very interesting days', as I recently heard them described. I hope and pray that on the far side of these crisis, we who claim to follow Christ will be shaped, liberated, and transformed, so that our lives will overflow with the purity, generosity and joy that is the heart of Jesus.

may we all choose to be thankful in the midst...

random song and life overlap moments

2009-11-14T23:43:00.000-08:00

Last night I was listening to music I got from the library which is my new source for new music. This is mostly because my budget can't keep up with my love of new music and the fact that I have yet to be impressed with a music store in Portland. Anyhow, I was rockin' the Dan in Real Life Soundtrack and listening to the song "let my love open the door", a song I don't think I appreciated enough back in the late 80s early 90s. Anyhow, it was playing as I pulled up to a friend's house and I had just heard the key line 'let my love open the door' when I turned off the car and got out and this little old woman was at the neighbor's house across the street saying "Open the door. Hello? Do you hear me? Open the door... Open the door" in a precious little old woman way, of course.

I giggled to myself for a second before moving on. I think moments like that are funny, when songs and life happen at the same time. Or when I'm reading a book and the dialogue says something random like "If only money grew on trees" and then some guy walks by saying "I wish money grew on trees". I always stop and wonder. Did she hear what song I'm listening to? Did this book just become my life? Anyhow, it happens all the time and it's entertaining and makes me laugh. I love those overlap moments.

old bloggy blogs

2009-11-10T11:26:00.000-08:00

I was just reading through old blogs this morning. it's kind of fun. I've always loved looking back on old journals to see where I was at another stage in life and how I was feeling or what I was doing. And I thought since I don't have anything to write about this morning I would just link a couple of older posts that I thought were fun or interesting.

the first is a post from when I was teaching social skills to preschoolers. It's about young-love and heartbreak and Charlie Brown.

the second is about change and transition and learning to let go.

and lastly, since it's been so darn rainy lately, a post about umbrellas (ella-ella-eh)

Ordinary Inbetween

2009-11-09T10:12:00.000-08:00

"It's not the big things, but the ordinary in between and maybe this is not the time at all to be waiting for any better reason to be glad that I'm alive at all." -Late Tuesday

For what it's worth, I feel like I've always had an appreciation of the little things. I find joy in the little things. Among these little things are hand written letters, a favorite song on the radio, a familiar voice on the phone, watching coffee pour from the french press, the way the sun sets warmly over the trees and hills, and laughter at any age. I think when I encounter something so small yet so lovely, my heart tells me to stop and acknowledge what is right in front of me. I've learned to make time for these moments in my day and if I don't, I keep going about my day feeling like I missed out. If I see the sun pouring through the window in a certain way and happen to have my camera, but move on without taking the picture, I bum myself out. If I pass a sweet chalk drawing on the sidewalk and just walk by without looking to see what it was, I'll wish I had.

The more I stop for these moments, because they really are just moments, the more joy I find in life. I have a ball tromping through the leaves, taking pictures of things that make me smile, swinging in the park, and just enjoying life in general. It's been fun to bring my camera with me out and about. I've always loved taking pictures, but for years, I was that girl that would always have my camera with me and never use it. It's amazing the difference it makes when I actually use it. Who would have thought? Just having my camera with me makes me look at the world different. I look at everything or everyone as the possibility of a great shot. I look around more. In Seattle, I used to walk twenty or thirty minutes to school with my ipod in and just making sure I wasn't going to trip and hardly making time for random conversation, which has every possibility of being hilarious and a good story later by the way :) I would hardly engage with people I passed on the street. Window face was as far as I got, haha. Now, I look at the world different and look around more, engage more. The more I actually see, the more beauty I find in the people and places I go. I find joy in the ordinary in between and I like that, because life is beautiful in the most extraordinarily ordinary ways.

"I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things...I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind." -Leo Buscaglia

Love note on a love bug?

No one can resist the swings

I can't resist the swings, either.

To the unknown..

dreams of wild horses

2009-10-31T10:37:00.001-07:00

I had a dream last night, where I was walking around on my neighbor’s ranch. Maybe Karyn’s neighbors and they were all gathered on the lawn with the family and it was morning and misty and beautiful. Everyone stood at the base of the mountain looking up the path with expectation. The path led right into the trees, lined with white flowers. They were waiting for a surprise and were happy that I had arrived just in time. I wasn’t sure what they were waiting for but I stood there in awe of the fog over the trees that made everything look softer and the white flowers that looked like snow from afar. Just as I was captivated by the scenery, hundreds of wild horses came running out of the trees. The speed of their sprint and the sound of their bodies captured us all. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were beautiful, running at the speed for which they were created, free and fast. I knew this was unique sight, and felt so privileged to see this moment of beauty and freedom and wild. As they raced by us, I stood there and smiled the biggest smile I could because those horses captured just how I felt inside. Free.

love is risky business

2009-10-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be rung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies, and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements, lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."-C.S. Lewis

This quote gets me every time. In being pretty much perpetually single, this quote gets me at my core. It reminds me of something my college roommate once told me. She said that it made her kind of mad that I rarely dated anyone, or not really at all in college. This bewildered me. Why would she be upset that I didn't date? It was my decision, and to me it seemed to be something that I was withholding from myself in a sacrificial way. Not in a spiritual way but the dating pool was just something I pulled myself out of. I was going to sit this game out. I was fine with this decision until she brought it up. She went on to say that when you pull yourself out of the dating pool for however long, it's a selfish decision. In my head, I was shocked. Of all things, I did not think not-dating was a selfish decision. She went on to say that we learn and grow so much from being in relationship with people, especially in dating relationships and that I could grow so much from dating, that I had so much to give to others through relationship. She told me that in a way, I was depriving others from the experience of growth. That got to me. All of a sudden the coin had flipped and it wasn't only about me. Ha, what a realization..the world actually doesn't revolve around me. When she brought this up, it wasn't a huge long discussion. It was more like a brief mention in conversation, but it definitely stuck with me and I find myself coming back to it more and more.

We are created to be in relationship, to be known and to know others. I haven't been single all these years because I don't want that. I've always wanted that and it comes back to the C.S. Lewis quote, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be rung and possibly broken". Love requires risk and that's the part I'm not so good at.

I'm resting in the Love that casts out all fear
let this soul learn to trust
to know its loved
and feel its worth
let my love be fearless.

big city perspective

2009-10-19T17:43:00.000-07:00

It's October and beautiful in Portland. The leaves are changing. The sun is shining and the rains haven't really arrived. As beautiful as the weather is, which is usually enough to keep me or any other Northwesterner content and smiling, I can't deny that my heart feels heavy. When my heart feels heavy I always have to get outside. Heavy thoughts need air to breathe. I just went for a bike ride this afternoon out to St. Johns, mostly because the roads are flat with the exception of one big hill under the bridge (which i made it up-score!). Anyhoo, the ride goes right along the most amazing bluff that overlooks the city and river.

Right now I'm sitting by the guard rail with cars whizzing by behind me (not so relaxing, but the view, it's unbelievable). Mt. Hood is to my left enveloped in clouds at the base, but standing tall atop them. Directly in front of me is the Fremont Bridge in all its glory as it leads into the heart of the city. It's getting to be that perfect time of day. Everything is beginning to take on that heavenly golden hue. From here, with this view of the city, I feel lighter. I can see everything. I have that big picture perspective. And with everything going on right now that hurts to think about, I'm reminded that there is a larger story here. If I could zoom out and look around at past and future I would probably breathe a giant sigh of relief in the knowledge that everything fits into the story in its own perfect way and I would probably say, "Oh, of course that's how things unfolded. I get it now."

fear

2009-10-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

So many thoughts running rampant this morning. I was catching up on blog reading last night and a friend of mine, Becca had written just the words that I needed to read and so beautifully, might I add. She had written,

“Sometimes we are afraid to “want” because it leaves room for disappointment. Sometimes it seems better to stay numb and dead to prevent failure or additional hurt.”

You can read the whole post here.

It got me thinking about fear and how much it has just followed me around my whole life. Fear of disappointment. Maybe it’s because of past disappointments or things that have happened in the past, but parts of me want to program guarantees and happiness into my life. Feeling like I’ve had enough disappointment in my life, so from here on out, it’s happy sailing. And in that thinking, I don’t dare to “want”. There is no risk here. Sure it could be argued that flying half way around the world to stare poverty and sorrow in the face was brave or moving to new cities without knowing a soul, but there’s no arguing this: I am not brave with my heart and I know all too well how to hesitate. More on that, later.

our bodies are still but our minds are having a hay-day

2009-09-28T10:39:00.000-07:00

So many dreams to remember from one night.

I finally had a chasing dream. I haven’t had a chasing dream where I was being chased since I was a little girl and my dreams/nightmares consisted of old ladies chasing me through the yard (anyone else?). Back to the chasing, for some reason my friend’s apt (or maybe it was mine) was number 64 way in the boonies as far as apartments go and it was like a construction obstacle course to get there. It involved jumping over gates and then over big gaps over city buildings. No hallways in the apt, if you wanted to get to the kitchen there was just more jumping over high things in open air.

The guy chasing me was a thuggish guy with a baseball cap. He wanted my leftovers, my fast food leftovers. I had a feeling that might happen to me eventually- someone would be chasing me that is. So I push-pinned a 5 dollar bill into a piece of wood. To distract whoever at the hardest part of the obstacle course commute-scaling the unfinished fence. That part takes skill. I’m not sure if the guy ever caught up to me but during the chase I asked him why he wanted my leftovers. We talked about it. I’d like to think that I just handed over the leftovers or that the $5 distraction worked because that’s more value than my leftovers and deep down, I feel like the thuggish chasey guy was good.

-Cantaloupes everywhere. This one girl had a strange little cantaloupe with huge cantaloupe seeds. I helped a girl take them out.

-Oh, after that I dreamed that I went to this place to get my haircut because I heard Kenny Chesney cuts hair there. Turns out he just styles people’s hair at the end, not as cool. But it’s Kenny Chesney.

-Then I dreamed that I was back in school. I went to a social work class on healing and was confused by the fact that I didn’t know anyone or the professor and then I realized that I wasn’t in that class and then I realized that I’m not in school anymore, woops.

-My dad texted me about a Husky football video game but when I replied to the text all of a sudden I was a football player IN the game-and I didn’t even know what to do.

-Ran into someone on the street that was nice and trying to get me a job. Thank you stranger.

This isn't even all of my dreams from last night. I just don't remember the other ones enough. It's crazy how our minds run wild at night. Our bodies are still but our minds are having hay-day.

p.s. What does having a hay-day actually mean? I imagine little children running wild out in a field throwing arm fulls of hay over their heads and laughing.

truth

2009-09-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure who said this...

"Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes."

but wow...it's so good.

the view from here

2009-09-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

What I love about this morning and the view from our breakfast nook.

-It is a gloriously sunny morning and it just pours into this little room like heaven.

-Over the Rhine is playing in the background (Put your elbows on the table. I will listen long as I am able. There’s no place I’d rather be…)

-Karyn always makes a whole pot of French press which means I can wake up later and have coffee waiting for me.

-My Golden Grahams were starting to get soggy, so I ate them really fast and remembered a funny conversation on the Mallory Porch.

-There’s still a piece of honey oat bread that Jeannie BAKED FROM SCRATCH, what? And for the moment I can breathe enough to taste it. Another piece of heaven right there.

-I see Leisha’s beautiful photo on the LaHash magnet on the fridge and miss her a lot but love that I have friends with passion that move to the other side of the world to do the incredible work they were designed to do. It’s incredible to see the stories God writes with my friends. I’m blown away over and over.

-I look to the chalk board on the wall and see a new note about gratitude and I love it and smile and feel grateful all at once.

-Behind the spice rack is a brainstorm drawing of our plans to surprise john on his birthday and kidnap him with balloons and take him to underground glow in the dark, black light, pirate themed miniature golf. I remembered how the plan was executed perfectly and how fun that was and I smiled again.

-I look on the walls and see the beautiful Painted Hills photo and gush to myself about how stinkin’ beautiful it is and how I want to go there, like right now. Then I look and see the picture of flowers above the brainstorm and love the photo perspective. The flower’s underbelly is my favorite and no one seems to take pictures from that angle.

-I see the empty brownie jar. The jar that had all the fixins for brownies (just add eggs and butter) that I got for Christmas…of 2007. I laugh at how Mike and I attempted to make the brownies anyway. Ok, well not attempted. We did make them. Attempted to eat is more accurate. Turns out making brownies that are a year and a half expired is not a the best idea. Haha. Mike was a trooper though, he ate a piece. A week or so later, we threw it out.

-I look across the street at Bob and Matt’s house and think about how great they are and how they invited us to their housewarming party via a note on a pink piece of paper. And how Karyn and I went and drank Miller High Life and how Bob and Matt are very close-talkers and how they are the sort of neighbors I dreamed about having and how we got cheered for as we left.

-Charlie and Caper are being cuddly dogs this morning and I like it when they are sweet and cuddly and not all barky and bitey. I think they like Over the Rhine, too.

Mondays aren't so bad.

Cell phones and People's Choice Awards

2009-09-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

A peeve...

As handy as they can be, cell phones are annoying and I think they may be breaking up relationships and friendships all over the globe (as well as forming them, but that's a whole other blog). Aside from cheating and scandals planned via phone and text, they are the start of many arguments in all relationships.

I was reading an article in the New York Times yesterday talking about texting while driving, or while in the back seat. Some were angry that their loved ones got mad when they texted and drove at the same time. Others were angry that their loved one was being unsafe and talking while driving. And then again, others were angry that a loved one would rather talk or text than talk with them while they drove. Interesting situations..

I've always thought it was rude to talk on the phone or text while in the company of others. I realize that sometimes, sometimes it's necessary, but let's be honest, most of the time it can wait.

Ellen Degeneres does a great sketch about phones and call waiting that goes something like this..

Call waiting, it's like the People's Choice Awards these days, except you find out right away who wins and loses....you're on the phone with what you think to be a good friend of yours having a great conversation when you hear the click of call waiting. Your friend says, 'hold on, gotta check this.' So you're holding, you're confident they're going to come back to ya. Then they click back in and say, 'I'm sorry, I gotta take this.' And you know what they just said to the other caller? ..'Hold on, let me get rid of this other call'

How rude. A real time People's Choice Awards. If you can avoid it, do. I feel that the same goes for texting or talking on your phone in the company of others though I feel this may differ in different social situations. The more people in the room, the more acceptable it is to talk/text but I don't want to get into that right now.
It's the People's Choice Awards people...don't make others feel like losers.

say hello, wave goodbye

2009-08-31T20:59:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting on the floor in my empty apartment. It’s dark and the fan is blowing strong. I just finished cleaning every nook and cranny and I’m about to turn in my keys. This is just what I did when I first moved in, too. I would come and sit here on the floor in the afternoon sun with my ipod and just sit. I loved that time. I loved the afternoon golden sunlight pouring through the windows. It was mid September and the heat had left for the year leaving perfect northwest evenings for the remainder of the month. Those golden afternoons are just what sold me when I came to look at the apartment for the first time. I wanted it for that perfect hour. I wanted that heavenly lens. I often wish every hour was just as golden as that hour. I’m still hoping for it, maybe in heaven… My days are starting to appear more and more golden and maybe that is something that I have acquired through this year, a renewed perspective.

This year has been filled with joy and heartache and so much movement and work in my soul. It was a tough year to live by myself and experience this year coming home to solitude at the end of every day, but looking back on it I think that was the best way. I had many nights of “cocooning” listening to Shannon music, thinking heavy thoughts, praying big prayers, curled up in a blanket with a warm beverage in hand, and waiting for the hard part to be over.

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." -Anais Nin

It may still be tough at times and doubts and fear still nestle close, but it’s been a year and I feel renewed and restored and redeemed. And here I am, sitting in the same spot on the floor that I sat on a year ago. I’m a different person and perhaps a little more brave and I’m pretty happy about that.

I’m moving into a house with some amazing people and I couldn’t be happier to be living in community again. It makes life more interesting and fun and I can’t wait to see what this year will hold.

photos from mom's visit to pdx

2009-08-24T12:43:00.000-07:00

\

my mom came to visit a couple weeks back and these are a few of the photos from our portland adventures. i just love her. she's precious and adorable but also a little spitfire. haha.

thinkin' malawi like thoughts

2009-08-18T10:55:00.000-07:00

I brewed a pot of coffee this morning with the intention of some quiet time to write. I spotted my old journals on the bookshelf and thought I would break them open and read into my old self, thoughts born on the other side of the world.

I quickly became absorbed into my own words deeply missing Malawi, the people and the strength of my faith during that time. I wrote constantly when I was in Malawi. I had my journal with me everywhere. I didn’t want a single experience or thought to be lost along the way. Now, I am seeing why I wrote so fervently. I was writing it for myself, for myself while I was there, the self that would read it a few months later, a couple years later, and my self now. I am encouraged in reading my thoughts and reflections from years ago with a million moments filling the space between.

Here are a few entries that touched me today.

“One little girl at the farm is sick, she would fast for days and pray to be healed. Marla told us about this girl and how she wouldn’t eat for days, and at mealtime they would look for her and find her in her room. She would be on her knees praying for God to heal her and make her well. Everyone wanted so bad just to sit her down and tell her she needs to eat, and be nourished, especially with the anti-retrovirals which need nutrients to be absorbed and effective. But they were torn at the same time, wondering who were they to think that God wouldn’t honor her fasting and her prayers for healing, to give her the nutrients her body needs. We often look for our prayers to be answered in the way we want to see them answered and here that is often the physical healing from sickness and hunger. What God did heal is this little girl’s spirit. She is so young but she has experienced a healing of her spirit far greater than any of us will ever know. She has a peace and a joy from the Lord that far surpasses anything we will ever know or will ever understand.”

“I feel so invested already and that desire to walk alongside them to watch them grow into the men and women God created them to be. That connection begins in such a short time. It’s crazy, because I imagine myself here long-term and it doesn’t sound so crazy. People are what get me. I just want to be near them for the rest of my life. I wonder about all my friends and family back home. It kills me that I have no idea how anyone is doing right now. God is constantly teaching me how to let people into my life and how to let people go, to let people go on their way…life just keeps going. I always think back on that book. The Five People You Meet in Heaven and how at the end of this guys’ life he meets five people who influenced or played a huge role in his life and he in theirs. It was just so interesting to think about the people we’ve touched or affected without even knowing it. People that have had to leave our lives for us to be the people we are today. I wouldn’t be who I am today if my dad didn’t leave when I was little. Who even knows what that would look like if he didn’t. God uses those that leave and those who stay to strengthen us and shape us for the better. He didn’t bring those situations upon us but because they happened, he uses them for good…”

“We never know who we are affecting and influencing in the moment. We are coloring the people we connect with. When the team was discouraged about being here and wondering why we were here if the Children of the Nations kids are already being well cared for now. Kara had a good point, she grew up in a family that cared greatly for her. If people looked in and saw that she had a family that loves her and therefore decided not to pour into her, she would not be the person she is today. We are who we are because of those who have spent time with us and poured into us. This is why we can’t love enough on these kids. Sure, many of the COTN kids are in homes and being cared for (because of COTN) and going to school. They are doing well because of the hundreds of people who have cared for them and taken time to love on them, to tell them bedtime stories, to play futbol with them, help them with school, tickle them, hug them. Every little act of love is part of a much grander story. We are a part of a much grander story. Sure, my heart craves the adventure of bringing food to the starving child, the saving a child from sure death, stopping the arm that abused a child, but that is exactly where these kids came from. You can see the traces of their past in the burn marks on there faces, in the scars on their bodies, in the way they avert their eyes, the way they are afraid to raise their voices. These are the kids and just because they aren’t in the thick of it right now doesn’t mean they don’t struggle with the effects of their past still in this day. We should never choose not to love a child or anyone for that matter, because everyone is fighting a battle and we have the opportunity to pour into and shape the lives we interact with every day. Love wastefully.”

ain't no sunshine..

2009-08-12T21:38:00.001-07:00

seriously? wow.

if i had a washing machine of my own, you can guarantee i would run to the thing right now and try and re-create this magic.

never did i think that karaoke could bring such joy

2009-08-05T23:41:00.000-07:00

I went out for karaoke last night and loooooved it. I am always torn about karaoke. Actually, I am never torn about it. I have always detested the whole karaoke idea-standing up in front of tons of people I don’t know and then singing while they all stare at me is not my idea of a good time. One, I hate being the center of attention. Two, I am in no way a performer. And three, (I know this is the same as number one, but this can’t be said enough) I hate being the center of attention. However, I do love to sing, for myself or with others, but never for others. So, all this to say, it is a bit strange that I had a blast at karaoke.

But I did. I loved it.

I still didn’t like being the center of attention. Though I never was THE center of attention as I only sang duets or trios or whole group songs. Me, sing a solo? pishaw.

Our group wasn’t able to reserve a private room as those booked up quick, so we had to sing in the “community room”. Fear and anxiety took over once I heard that. Yikes. Sing in front of strangers? No way, Jose. We lucked out and there were only two other women in the room singing wonderfully in Chinese and then later moved on to rap and hip hop-but man, they were quite good. Other than those two, it was just our group dominating the microphone and playlist.

Around 10pm, this sweet old man walked in with our server, and she explained to him how karaoke works in the community room. I could not hide the big grin on my face and inside I was squealing over how cute this man was. His name was Suds (best name ever, right?). He walked all the way across town to get to this karaoke spot. He was in shorts that sat high up on his rib cage. He had very little hair minus the sprouts of gray along the side of his head and a very circular and dark brown toupee that just sat atop his head, and he soon after put in his pocket.

Suds jumped right in, holding strong on the mic singing “100 years” by Five For Fighting with karyn, I believe. I was just sitting there watching him sing at the top of his lungs and with such passion.

Half time goes by
Suddenly you’re wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming...

I just sat there in awe of this old man singing karaoke with a bunch of twenty somethings on a late Tuesday night and everyone was enjoying themselves, singing and laughing and just sharing joy. Again, I have found that music really does bring people together and I love that.

And I guess I kind of love karaoke, too.

holy hot city

2009-07-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

I am melting. Portland is so HOT right now, and not in the Zoolander sense. It's five bazillion degrees in my apartment. I think I slept maybe an hour or so last night. A couple friends from out of town crashed my itty bitty studio on the way to Cannon Beach. I felt so awful that they had to lay in the misery of thick air that is my apartment at night. I went through a couple packs of frozen veggies last night, cooling me a tiny bit as they defrosted on my face. I am such a wimp when it comes to heat. My day might have been ruined when I looked up the forecast for the next few days at 3:30am only to see that today is supposed to be 105 and tomorrow a cooler 103 degrees. Ugh.

...

too hot.

i went to the beach last week and in looking at those pictures i want to rewind to the overcast and cloudy misty day that it was, glorious. maybe if i look at them long enough, it will just magically be cooler. here's to wishful thinking...

bigger than a building

2009-07-21T00:31:00.000-07:00

Quiet. I've been reflecting a lot lately. I've been outside, enjoying Portland, enjoying the trees, enjoying the water. And I'm reminded that I love the outdoors. I see God in the outdoors, more so than in a church building and stained glass windows and I like that. God is bigger than a building. He cannot be contained in a building. He needs something much bigger and wilder than that.

love this photo

2009-07-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

I love the National Geographic photo of the day. I get it on my google homepage and i get so excited to check it everyday. The anticipation is kind of like Christmas. Well, maybe more like checking my horoscope or the soup du jour. Anyhow, I love this shot. That golden sunshine goodness and the silhouettes and America's favorite pasttime. so good.

He whispers

2009-07-12T23:37:00.000-07:00

"I'm going to make you brave", He whispers to me in the stillness of the breath I'm holding.

I know. I think that's what I'm afraid of.

Rose Garden watchings and musings

2009-07-06T23:02:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting here at the Rose Garden. Instead of a solitary hike (which my mom deemed, unsafe for a young lady like myself), I opted for pretty scenery and reflective space. I set up camp in the mini amphitheater with my blanket, lil’ buddy (my ipod), book and journal. I read for a few minutes and was quickly drawn into prime people-watching all around me.

I watched the group of kids running across the lawn, running and screaming for as long as their lungs would allow to see who could scream and run the longest in one breath. The oldest girl was the true winner and won time and time again. The younger ones, took several breaths and ended up running out of eyesight every time, but convinced themselves they had won.

I watched a couple young girls put on a talent show on the stage. Performing 10 second performances of break-dancing and singing.

I watched a young boy and girl for a while, following their play and conversation. I watched the little boy jumping down the oversized steps beside me, with his face bright with adventure. His mom calls out, “Jason, what are you doing??”

OOF…OOP…OOF…

With each jump he lets out an OOF…

He looks back with a big grin and yells, “CLIMBING!”

And continues his journey.

A young girl is following after.

He keeps looking behind to make sure she is following.

Oof….oop….oof.

She has the same smile of adventure on her face as she follows where the boy leads. His excitement is brimming when he leads.

She calls out when they reach the bottom, “follow me!”

…

He stops and sulks into the grass, his face visibly fallen. He slowly gets up walking after her, but with no enthusiasm. It’s clear her doesn’t want to be led. His joy comes in the leading, in the adventure of forging the trail, in knowing that someone is following his lead.

I wonder to myself as I continue to watch them play if I too often default to my own lead- and my own independence. If I should step aside now and then and allow myself to be led.

...And now, the clouds have moved in and I’m sitting in the sprinkle of rain, wondering if I am going to stick it out. It seemed that just when I got comfortable and settled, enjoying the sunshine and warmth-clouds moved overhead. Though it’s still sunny, I am still sitting here in the midst and mist of rain.

I love how metaphorical weather and seasons can be and singers know it.

“it never rains when you want it to”

“for tomorrow may rain, I’ll follow the sun”

Change in weather always throws people off a bit. When it’s 90 degrees for a week straight and then it drops to 65 just like that, people don’t know what to think of it. I’ve noticed that the day the weather changes in any drastic way, first snow, or downpour after a dry spell, first sunshine after weeks of rain- those are the days the coffee house is busy. Not just for beverage needs. People need to discuss the change. They need to know that other people are experiencing and witnessing the change happening around them. Change is easier when you know you’re not alone.

Change is always difficult because it means, well, just that-change. Sometimes it’s welcome change. Other times change happens and we don’t want it one bit. We liked the way things were, settled and comfortable. I'm going to have to go back to change is easier when you know you're not alone and thank goodness we are never alone.

Remembering...Brian

2009-07-04T00:24:00.000-07:00

All it took was a glance to the date on my computer screen.

Seven years ago today, you were still a teen

Early morning July 3^rd, the dawn was breaking

And your own life you were taking.

I know you had your reasons

I would have told you that life is worth living

And that we all have our seasons

I hope at the very least in that last moment

You knew you were loved

By a great and loving God above.

This day comes around every year,

And the strength of your character becomes that much more clear.

Boy did you carry that sense of life

That passion inside that flowed from your hands

onto paper, walls and canvas

you believed that love could change the world

Can this?

Poetic words spoken from your lips

Into our ears, hearts and histories

“Live to love” you said,

“Create love and be free”

It took losing you for so many to finally see.

It’s undeniable, the strength you carried

From your first breath until the day you were buried

In all your ways you breathed humility

And in the end I’m reminded of life’s fragility.

I wish you were here.

There are so many things I’d like to tell you.

And share perhaps over a beer

Your life has touched mine and others

Many mothers, friends, sisters and brothers

If there is anything to gain

I want you to know your life was not lived in vain.

One last and little secret I can’t forget.

Remember those prank calls you used to get?

Your favorite songs

played to you by a random somebody

All those years ago,

yeah, that was me.

Much love, friend.

Brian Betz (1983-2002)

oh ingrid, you say what i can't

2009-07-02T00:22:00.000-07:00

Ingrid Michaelson....i can't get enough.

listen to this demo of her new song, 'walk away'.
beautiful. words. voice. harmonies.

"but i really know, that forevers, they come and go, so i'll hold on tight to letting go, 'cause i don't know when this love will walk away..."

oh ingrid, you say what i can't**

**words of a crazy Jenny Lewis fan at the Roseland, who also kept dancing and shaking her hair on me.

almost poetry

2009-07-01T00:17:00.000-07:00

(I apologize for being so verbose; this was written in a late night, sleepy state.)

some thoughts that resemble poetry..

I am a tattered and torn person in the process of becoming

Who it is I am meant to be

Into the image of the one I long to see

Transforming and changing

Imago dei.

If only I was cleanly cut with no jagged edges

Made to fit perfectly so,

Here and there.

Into the dreams I’ve so carefully drafted

Through the paths I’ve chosen

and will find again in pages unwritten

I’ve learned that the pieces don’t always fit just so

I’ve learned by going where he leads

and learning to let go

Must I still be learning?

I’m in love with our world.

That hurts and breaks

And in my hands I feel the warmth

When I hold them up to the wounds

In our world that is fallen and broken and crying out for hope

Daily I see pieces of a flawed and imperfect humanity

Yearning for redemption

Aching for heaven’s waters to spill over the earth and wash it clean

Yet, in the midst of a scarred world,

I can’t help but find myself in awed moments

Grateful for heartache,

That echoes within

And calls out to others

in a melody

that we all know

I am astounded by the immense weight of hope in the midst of suffering

In spite of dire odds and circumstance

We remain a people

Clinging to slivers of hope

And remaining faithful

As we lean a little more into

the next page

and into a love that is with us

until the end of the age.

The Story

2009-06-24T11:39:00.000-07:00

I cannot tell you how much I love hearing people’s stories, hearing where they come from, what their world looked like and felt like growing up, and learning about little and big experiences that have shaped who they have become.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
-Brandi Carlile

I truly love it. I could listen to people tell stories all day. It’s such a privilege to glimpse into that part of someone; especially since a lot of life stuff doesn’t come up in daily conversation or maybe it’s too long of a story or too dark of a story to share. Every other week at our home community through Imago Dei Community, one or two people will share their life story, their testimony with everyone in our community, as a way to go deeper with each other and to see how God has shown up in the midst of the joy and the pain. I just love the image of a group of believers sitting in a room with the sole intent of knowing each other and knowing God more. To sit in the presence of another person’s life story, all the beauty, messiness, brokenness, and soul-I just eat it up.

What I love most is that I believe in each of our stories, we recognize pieces of ourselves in each other. We recognize ourselves in the experiences of others, the feelings of others, and the brokenness of others. One of my favorite Over the Rhine lyrics is "pain is our mother, she helps us recognize each other". Our stories connect us in ways that we might never have imagined. I’ve seen how the sharing of stories in our home community has encouraged more boldness, realness and an uncovering of what has been kept hidden and how in this sharing people are growing and learning; learning that they are not alone and they never have been, alone. I have been getting goose bumps a lot lately and surprisingly, not because I am cold. When I hear something incredible or see how certain life pieces just fit in my own life and in the lives of others, it’s as if my body is telling me to

stop.

Take notice of this.

And so I do.

And in that moment of recognition, my faith deepens as I remember that our lives are only a small part of a much greater story being crafted and I know the one who created it all and He is good.

My dear friend Courtney posted this as a facebook status and I’ve been marinating on it all week.

He said, "Why don't you spend your day floating down this river with me?" and I said, "Well that would be GREAT, but do you know where it goes?" and He said, "Yeah I know the way....I created it."

what's next..? enjoy today..

2009-06-22T23:16:00.003-07:00

It’s a bit surreal, the whole being done with school. Of course everyone’s question is “…what next?!” ha. If only I knew... That was the easy part when I graduated from the U of W; I knew I wanted to go into social work and so I could forecast grad school in the future and it was great to be able to tell people my plan. Oh, and my parents are all about “the plan”…everyone must have a plan and not just one plan, but two or three as back-ups. I’ve tried to function around plans, I have, but that’s just not how I roll. My plans consist of not having a plan.

I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl and I kind of like that.

So…with that being said…here I am, graduated and done. At the moment, I am content in taking some much needed down time; to hang out with friends, to take walks, to tote my camera around, to ride my bike, to sleep-It’s been wonderful.

I’ve been mulling some thoughts around to write about but that will come later I guess. I thought I’d throw in some pictures of my last week or so since I’ve been taking my camera with me everywhere.

After graduation = happiness

my favorite ladies and boys came down to ptown!

Fro Yo..or frozen yogurt with good peeps

when I have time to look around on my walks through the neighborhood, i see the coolest things, yeah positive propaganda!

found these cute little birdies on my friend leisha's houseboat in Scapoose, OR

the houseboat. i could so live here.

perfect Sunday afternoon.

forever a cheese.

there was fishing, but not by me

seriously, water feeds my soul.

the new bike, isn't she pretty in that golden sun?

I've been exploring Portland, via bike and loving it!

i pretty much love trains, tracks, sun and portland

shadow trees

my absolute favorite time of day

the view from a bike is the best

this makes me feel like i live out in the country, i like that.

i was born to explore. i'm a happy girl

i am my father's daughter

2009-06-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

(whoa, haven't blogged in while! it's been a little wild with GRADUATING, hooray!!...but get ready for a lot more writing because i've got some tiiiiiiime...)

I’ve been thinking about my Dad lately. Maybe it’s Father’s day coming up or maybe it’s just that I have a lot of time on my hands now.

I was having breakfast with my dad and step-mom not too long ago on the island. Visits with my dad are few and far between, they always have been. But still we both try and make time for that relationship and try and restore what’s been missing all along. I was thinking back to that breakfast and how we are more alike than I know.

The server walked over and made some pleasant conversation about the weather and tides. She turned to take our order, my step-mom abruptly ordered a long and complicated meal with substitutions and specific requests, hardly making eye contact and with a bit of a huff. The young server, clearly overwhelmed and visually nervous about what order may follow next looked my way. She was a sweet girl and throughout my step-mom’s order, I was trying to decide what to compliment her on, she had a great necklace, boots and haircut. I told her I couldn’t hold in a compliment that I loved her antique necklace, cowboy boots and cute haircut. She smiled big and accepted gracefully. I ordered French toast and coffee. She let out a breath of relief and looked to my dad, “Canyon Combo with coffee, please.” She smiled big and turned away. My dad looked at me and says loud enough for the server to hear on her walk to the kitchen, “She was a very sweet girl. I think we lucked out and got the nicest server that works here.”

…once our food arrived, I noticed my dad pouring generous amounts of syrup over his pancakes, bacon and eggs and I smiled. My step-mom was quick to comment on how absurd this was and who would put syrup over everything on their plate? I smiled, recalling to myself my secret love of syrup on both eggs and bacon.

At times I feel like I know strangers on the street better than my dad, which breaks my heart a little, but there are other times, like at breakfast when the littlest things will remind me that I am his daughter; our mutual love of syrup, uncomplicated orders, and kindness to those that serve us. They are small things, I know, but at the time and even now, it’s those little things that my dad and I have in common that mean the world to me.

Frederick Buechner

2009-06-04T12:32:00.000-07:00

Everything this man writes is brilliant.

"But I talk about my life anyway because if, on the one hand, hardly anything could be less important, on the other hand, hardly anything could be more important. My story is important not because it is mine, God knows, but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours. Maybe nothing is more important than that we keep track, you and I, of these stories of who we are and where we have come from and the people we have met along the way because it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity...that God makes himself known to each of us most powerfully and personally. If this is true, it means that to lose track of our stories is to be profoundly impoverished not only humanly but also spiritually."

“One life on this earth is all that we get, whether it is enough or not enough, and the obvious conclusion would seem to be that at the very least we are fools if we do not live it as fully and bravely and beautifully as we can.”

trust that something will grow from nothing

2009-06-02T15:48:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day, can you tell my workload is dwindling? Or maybe it’s my procrastination that has taken on all new levels as I just have one more paper left…anyhow, I was searching through old emails for quotes, because I often send quotes to myself so I can remember them later. I came upon an old email I had written to my friend Emily in Colorado. My roommate Mel had just moved back to Seattle and I had just moved into my studio and I was feeling the loneliness of starting anew. I had spent most of my energies maintaining friendships in Seattle or with friends across the states and with my roommate, that I had not formed a community in Portland. I wrote about how hard it is to have no community or to experience glimpses of it here and there as friends would visit only to be left wanting more. What stuck out in the email was this, “It's so hard to trust that something will grow from nothing”.

I stopped as I read that again. Something has grown from nothing. An amazing community has grown from nothing. I had felt so far out in the desert, so far from community and so far from people that know me. Fast forward. To open my eyes now and feel so supported and encouraged by the people around me, to find a community that bears one another’s burdens, that is open and honest with their struggles, that loves in all circumstances- I am just blown away. How did this happen? It reminds me of the movie Under The Tuscan Sun…this woman dreamt that she was wandering all over the countryside in a desperate search for ladybugs. She looked everywhere with no luck. She grew tired in her search and fell asleep in a meadow. And when she woke up, she was covered in ladybugs. This is how I feel. I tried to find community, I looked and looked and just couldn’t find it. And then it seems, that just out of the blue, community fell into my lap and I am surrounded by such amazing people and they truly bless me in so many ways. There is so much to be thankful for.

God is so good.

If you’re wondering what quote I was looking for in the email, here it is.
“The dominant characteristic of an authentic spiritual life is the gratitude that flows from trust—not only for all the gifts that I receive from God, but gratitude for all the suffering. Because in that purifying experience, suffering has often been the shortest path to intimacy with God".
–Brennan Manning

blessed to be a witness

2009-06-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

It’s been one of those weeks where things seem to be falling apart around me. The circumstances that my friends, clients, and co-workers are facing make me sigh over and over again. What does one DO in the face of adultery, the loss of the child, the loss of a job, illness that knocks you out, stress fractures, or life-changing decisions that need to be made yesterday? These circumstances, they are heavy. And they are done; there is nothing that can be done to change the situation. But I am recalling a bit of wisdom a friend picked up at an Imago Dei Community conference. She imparted a lot of words, tips and pearls but these are the words that stuck, “How we respond is our responsibility”. There was context surrounding this, but of course, I lost that bit along the way…

We may not be able to control the circumstances and what has already happened, but we can control how we respond. This part is completely up to us. One’s true character comes out when they encounter crisis. It’s hard to sugarcoat anything or pretend that everything is fine when the world is crumbling around you. It is too much energy to hold a mask to your face and to keep your walls built high. What’s left is genuine, real and raw. I feel so privileged to witness and be with people in this state. I am continually awed by the sheer resilience of the people with whom I surround myself.

They have been vulnerable and humble in these circumstances, asking for help when they need it, which let’s be honest, asking for help is no easy task in our society that calls for independence and "doing it all". They have been open to change and shifting tides. They have looked for and found God in the midst of it all, when they could so easily declare His absence or disbelief. They are weary but they keep moving; they survive. They are brave. They have embraced the unknown and they remain hopeful. They have responded with such grace and humility and continually inspire me. I am blessed to be a witness.

counting down..

2009-05-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

I am counting down…some have been counting down since we began the social work program two years ago. Others began counting down this year. I have held off, until now. This whole crazy time of theories and research and clients and service has whirled into this point of ending, of launching, of flying.

I am 17 days from graduation.
1 more grief support group
1 more big and dreadful research paper
1 lovely bite sized self-care paper
4 classes
3 more internship days
It’s all winding and whirling down…

As I always do with endings, I start thinking about them in step with beginnings. For better or worse, the second something begins, my mind fast-forwards to the inevitable ending. In some scenarios this may be considered healthy, while it others this may just be cynical. Anyhow, I can’t help it. I have been thinking about this ending for two years, anticipating graduation and walking away with an MSW, with a whole world of social work at my feet. And I still look to that world as it waits just a couple weeks out, but I hold hints of sadness at what I am leaving behind; the community, the breadth of knowledge all around me, and the support of professors and supervisors encouraging me, the whole womb of safety that is school. In all my transitional times of coming and going, of hellos and goodbyes, I find myself more and more aware of the simultaneous feeling of both joy and sorrow. I’ve come to acknowledge that there will always be both. There will always be something to rejoice and squeal for in excitement and always something to grieve and weep over, always life and always death. This is what makes life interesting and worth living.

Oh heavenly day...

2009-05-21T10:41:00.000-07:00

I’m thinking about Malawi today as I so often do…one of my interns in Malawi had the lyrics “oh heavenly day” written as her status on facebook. This is my favorite song in the whole entire world. I feel like I say that about a lot of songs I love but it really is my favorite. If I had to listen to one song on repeat forever into eternity, it would be ‘heavenly day’. After I commented that ‘heavenly day’ is indeed the best.song.ever. She wrote back and reminded me that I would play it over and over in our kitchen in Chiwengo Village.

As I read those words, I was instantly taken back to that village, our little house, and our littler kitchen with the sun streaming through and Patty Griffin’s words echoing through our walls.

Tomorrow may rain with sorrow

Here's a little time we can borrow

Forget all our troubles in these moments so few

Oh we can right now the only thing that all that we really have to do

Is have ourselves a heavenly day…

Oh all the troubles gone away

Oh for awhile anyway

Heavenly day…

On any given afternoon, there would be several of us in the kitchen singing, dancing and preparing a dinner for ourselves and one of several short-term teams visiting Chiwengo. It was so familiar to be chopping, frying, stirring etc. in the kitchen and for several kids to come and visit with us in the kitchen or help us prepare or just make silly faces from outside the window. Or to hear kids in the next room playing cards, yelling Bodza (aka liar—a little take off of the game BS) or to see kids outside making tiny campfires for cooking over.

It’s those little moments that I miss. They are just little snapshots that make up an average day; they are so minute and so fleeting. Yet when you are so far from them, and take a moment to hold them up to the light, you can see the beauty of each piece.

And in doing so, my heart just aches for those little moments.

26, I've decided you're going to be awesome.

2009-05-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

I love birthdays. I don’t so much like being the center of attention, like during the singing, gah, the singing. A whole song’s worth of people singing and staring at you-awkward. But I do love the day. I always try and see as many of my favorite people as possible. When I worked at Richmond Beach Coffee Co. I always wanted to work on my birthday. People thought that was crazy, wouldn’t you want a day off?? Not so much. I loved all the people that came it and it just wouldn’t feel right to celebrate without them. They were that much a part of my day and life. Plus, when you work with your best friends, when a birthday comes around they can plan ridiculous stuff. Like when little old Ruth brought me the sweetest card. Richard brought flowers from his neighbor’s garden, haha. Kevin brought a cake at 6am. Ron brought balloons that sing opera…I know right?! Crazy inventions these days. I love getting to see the people who make up my world, a great way to end a year and start another. Birthdays remind me of how faithful God is and how he’s brought me through various trials and chapters of life and I can be thankful for the incredible people He’s placed in my life.

I had such a wonderful birthday filled with both family and friends-new and old. The sun was shining gloriously. I took my little Korean cousin out for coffee and toast at Blackbird Bakery, no better way to start a morning on Bainbridge Island. I went to Safeco with seven of my closest friends. I watched the Ms beat the Red Sox, yeah! We ate ice-cream on the Seattle Waterfront. I was serenaded by my Dragonfly Coffee House girls at 6:50am. I was reunited with old friends at UPC. I was honored to speak at the 7 o’clock service about my time in Malawi and since then and I didn’t even faint. It was a perfect day and I was surrounded by people I love, and you can’t ask for a better birthday present than that. They refresh me.

So hello 26. I’ve decided you’re going to be awesome. I had my doubts. I have always thought less of even numbered years. Call it a weird quirk, but I just don’t seem to be a fan of even years, 20? Meh. 22? So much change. 24? Well, that one wasn’t so bad. I just always feel better about odd numbered years. I envision them to be more adventurous, more edgy. I realize I am sounding like a complete goober right now, so I will move on…So even with initial dislike of 26 for it’s even numbered-ness, I feel good about turning 26 and I’ve decided it’s going to be amazing. I mean, I’m graduating, graduating. With my Masters in Social Work, whaaaaat? I will officially enter the world of professionals who have important letters following their names, MSW here I come. This will be one of the first things I do as 26 year-old-receive my long awaited degree-pretty freakin’ awesome.

I’m ready to say goodbye to 25, which was a rich year in both joy and heartache. It added a few more aches in my joints, a few more laugh lines, and hopefully all my experiences will distill into precious wisdom in the coming years. It was a good year, but challenging in so many ways and I am overjoyed to pack this year up and tuck it away. I’m ready for a new year with new pages to be written and cheesy pictures to be taken and a road to be travelled. I like where I’m at. I love Portland. I love all the people I’ve met in Portland and though I couldn’t tell you what life will look like in a month, I could tell you that with nothing less than absolute hope and expectation that I’m rolling on to something good.

Lost in translation

2009-05-11T11:46:00.001-07:00

My family from Korea is visiting Seattle this month and I am so thrilled to have them here, but also bummed that I am a three hour drive from them and am still in school, thus limiting my time with them to a couple extended weekends.

My Grandma, my Aunt and my cousin are so much fun and the good times roll especially since we can’t communicate through our words. It’s been a long time since I have experienced this extreme language barrier. In my trips to Malawi, language was hardly a barrier as English was one of the national languages and we were encouraged to speak in English to help the kids practice their language.

To communicate with my Korean family, we are both stretched. Communication comes in the form of wildly exaggerated movements and actions that looks similar to championship charades combined with even more laughter and head nodding, even if you have no idea what is going on. It is pretty hilarious. Even if we can’t have deep and meaty conversations which I so love, we can be in each other’s presence and bond over our many failed communication attempts and hilarity. My Grandma will talk to me in Korean just as if I speak Korean too, and for a few minutes. I have no idea what she is telling me, but I will talk to her in English for a couple minutes, too. If only my mom were there to translate the completely unrelated conversation we are having with each other.

I’m remembering my communications classes from UW and how 80% of communication is nonverbal. It’s amazing how much we can communicate purely through facial expressions and actions. I communicate through laughter and big grins. My cousin communicates through crayon colored picture gifts and enthusiasm. My Grandma communicates through back slaps, dancing and deep belly laughter. My Aunt communicates through charades and gentle laughter. It may not be the most effective communication style, but it brings us closer, which is all I can ask for.

my, my, my, it's a beautiful world.

2009-05-08T18:47:00.000-07:00

Today has been a good day, a good sunshiney day ;)
I love days like this.
When I can go for a run, and keep running past the point where I usually turn around.
When I feel refreshed and energized instead of sleepy after waking up earlier than all normal people.
When I meet a kindred spirit.
When upbeat tunes give me what I need to finally put away all my laundry and clean my apartment.
When I can wear a dress without hauling around a sweater, just in case…
When I can walk through my neighborhood with a big ole grin, and watch it spread to others.
When I can look up through the trees and see the sunshine cascading through.
When I can drink my iced americano and read through a chewy book about the soul and the human spirit.
When I can watch the little leaves fall from trees like flower petals, but with a special helicopter-like twist.
When I read the exclamation of love etched in the sidewalk “love is us” or walk by the blue Jetta with a rose and a card under the windshield wipers.
When the old man playing the accordion in Jamison Park changes his melody to a happier one as I walk by.
When I read lines like, “I may not have the skills of a world-class musician, but I have the soul of one.”
When I realize that everything beautiful in creation was made from love and for love.
When I can hear the kids splashing in the fountain as they live their adventurous make believe worlds of play.
When a little baby, learning to walk, stops for a second and smiles at me, as he can hardly believe he is the mover of his own body.
When the playlist on my ipod seems to play just the perfect soundtrack for my afternoon stroll.
When I pass customers of the dragonfly waving hello on my walk home.
When I come home to a warm apartment filled with the setting sun.
When there is no doubt in my mind that we are so fully LOVED.
I’m grateful for days like this.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world.

Ellen with her Hawaii Chair

2009-05-06T17:07:00.001-07:00

hahahah, i want one :)

storms don't last forever

2009-05-05T15:51:00.000-07:00

I experienced the worst drive from Seattle to Portland to date, yesterday. It was miserable. I knew I should have left earlier in the day, but my time is always so rushed when I visit the island that visiting friends in Seattle is a must, especially when they are long overdue… I was so thrilled to have lunch with Cameron and coffee with Angie. It made my week to BE with them. Telephone calls and quick facebook messages just don’t cut it with some friends and nothing replaces face time, nothing.

I moved along my afternoon happily and with a hearty grin on my face and the feeling of renewal in being with good friends. My grin flattened a bit when I missed the freeway on-ramp and then flattened some more when I ended up driving around downtown for another twenty minutes in rush hour trying to get to another on-ramp. Eesh…Finally, I made it to I-5, only to inch along around five mph and at most twenty second stretches of 30mph, but those were short-lived…TWO HOURS of inching along, that wore on my spirits. And I was delighted to finally get to Olympia, get out of the car, stretch and buy some chocolate-to lift my spirits, of course ;)

Once I got back on the road, the rains decided to POUR. Ugh. And for the next one and a half hours, I clenched my steering wheel for dear life because I could hardly see the car ahead of me in the downpour and hydroplaned every thirty seconds. It was awful. Every time my wheels slipped, by heart jumped. I was stressed out and just dying to be home.

I came around the bend toward Vancouver and was so delighted to be close to home, and what had been a dark and stormy drive gave way to huge bright sunshine. Oh hello sunshine, where have you been all my life? That’s what I was thinking, and I just felt my tensed muscles loosen in the slightest. And the most gigantic and ridiculously awesome rainbow was suddenly painted across the sky as I drove into Portland. I was so thankful for that moment and the reminder that storms don’t last forever. Thank God storms don’t last forever.

no words of my own today

2009-05-01T23:37:00.000-07:00

I've been drawing and baking and talking and eating and running all day and at this point I have no words of my own to share so i will leave you with a couple photos...

sufficiently soaked but smiling

2009-04-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

I went for a run today. When I left it was warm and overcast with patchy sun breaks. I started out strong even though my knee has been a little achy lately. About a mile and a half in, out of nowhere, a colossal downpour hit and I was sufficiently soaked in about two minutes. I couldn’t help but just bust up laughing. It was exactly what I needed. I love running in the rain, but this was the best.

I love situations that are so completely ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh and embrace the hilarity of the moment.

People driving by must have thought I was absolutely mad with an ear to ear smile, just running through puddles, completely soaked, barely able to see through the river pouring down my face. I was running by this office building and it was fun to see everyone in the formal business attire sheltering themselves with newspapers and briefcases and running at my pace through the parking lot to get to their cars. I felt like I was in a movie or a Nike running commercial.

It felt so ridiculously refreshing. It was one of those cleansing moments, one of those washed by the water moments that leave you feeling energized and renewed, as if all my worries or anxieties rolled off me like raindrops, leaving only goodness on my skin and in my thoughts. I’m just sitting in my studio now, listening to the Giant upstairs (he sounds like one anyway) dance to ‘you send me’ by Sam Cooke (it’s a classic and a personal favorite of mine) and I’m still drying my soaked clothes with my Hawaiian breeze fan. And, I’m still smiling. Things are good.

“God gave you style, and gave you grace, and put a smile upon your face.”

transitions

2009-04-27T17:44:00.001-07:00

My days of calling myself a student are quickly falling away. I have always been a student, even in my two year hiatus; I still called myself a student because I had a sneaking suspicion that I would pursue a master’s degree soon. Now as I enter into the final six weeks, I’m ready to shed my student’s skin. It’s difficult to think about giving up that title, when I’ve held tightly to it for so long. Though, I will soon hold claim to the title of social worker, I still feel that sliver of loss in parting ways with the life I’ve known all these years.

I think it was Mr. Rogers that said it best,

"Transitions are almost always signs of growth, but they can bring feelings of loss. To get somewhere new, we may have to leave somewhere else behind."

That being said, I’m ready to transition to a career of doing what I love, but I’m not sure I’m ready to transition to a new place. People keep asking me if I am going to stay in Portland or move back to Seattle. As much as I ache for my people in Seattle, I’m not quite done with Portland yet. I haven’t gotten my fill. I just have that deep gut feeling that God has more in store for me here and that’s enough assurance for me that this city is where I am meant to be.

Where I come from

2009-04-21T13:04:00.000-07:00

I love writing exercises that switch up the way I think or write and this one was particularly cool to me as I love reflecting on the people and places that I come from. I saw the template on this cool girl's blog. It's called Where I'm From and I think all of you should try it as well. It's thoughtful to think through and it's a lens for others to see a bit of where you come from.
Go here for the template.

I am from salty beaches with seashells and sand dollars, from Peachios and cartwheels on the lawn.

I am from the orange house on Pleasant Beach, the aging speedboat and the tire swing twirling in the afternoon sunlight.

I am from hardy rhododendrons that bloom vibrant and fit perfectly behind the ear, the sweetly fragrant lilies that wake me every Easter morning and unwavering dandelions that push their way through cracks in the patio.

I am from road trips guided by theme parks, from stepping lightly after curfew, from Harmony in Korea, from Katherine Williams and Uncle Ambrose.

I am from great lengths for the love of family, from five hour drives every other weekend to keep our family together. I am from my dad’s heartbreaking stories of loss witnessed in a life-time of fire-fighting and service in the Vietnam War.

I am from wheelbarrows full of fuzzy caterpillars, play clothes and school clothes, and puddles you could jump right through.

I am from a house full of skeptics, wincing at street corner preachers, televangelists and abortion protesters, unconvinced that heaven could hold both a sinner and a saint. I am from youth leaders who never uttered a word about God or unfolded a prayer but always found time for flashlight tag. I am from that still small voice that whispered to me that we are all meant for so much more.

I am from the ferries of Bainbridge Island en route to Seattle and the leap of faith that crossed oceans for love. I am from Grandma’s Christmas goulash everyone pretended to love and the chocolate chip cookie dough that vanished before the cookie sheet appeared.

I am from first dates post World War II, running terrified from the theater when the opening scene exploded on the screen, the girl who could waltz in her sleep and double-clutch like a pro, and Clapper the Clown at pancake breakfasts, and walking in the fourth of July Parade to celebrate the honor of citizen of the year.

I am from puzzle time with old ladies, telling stories about their loves and the latest romance novel.

I am from beaches of drift wood and Hurricane Ridge, from hallways of frozen moments of awkward years, from dusty piano tops alongside Frank Sinatra and Etta James. I am from cold Christmas Eve nights on the porch listening to carols sung from fire truck speakers.

This is where I come from and I’m forever grateful..

on being known

2009-04-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

I LOVE knowing people’s names. I really do. I love it when people know my name, even if I still blush a little when I tell people my full name, or when people give a hearty chuckle when they hear my name. I feel like people know me when they know my name. It makes the world a little smaller, community a little more real. You could go all around town all throughout life without having anyone really know you, and the idea of that forms a pit in my stomach. We are wired to be relational to be with people, to be known. This is why isolation is greatest punishment. We NEED people.

Complex pathways of the brain and regulation of certain functions of our limbic brain makes expulsion from the company of others the cruelest punishment humans can devise. Studies have been done long ago on orphan children, finding that children NEED affection and emotional attention. Feed and clothe a human infant but deprive him of emotional contact and he will die. We are born with the innate need and desire to be known.

It’s not easy to be known; it requires vulnerability and risk. It’s not always something that comes easy. We hide ourselves for fear of truly being known and on the other end of the spectrum we have within us a deep desire to be known. We need it but we fear it. What does one do with that? I find myself hiding myself away at times for fear that people won’t like the real me and trying to be vulnerable hoping that people will like the real me, so much of life is lived somewhere in the space between.

I value community and that place where everyone knows my name. I like feeling at home with people. Take for example, my place of work, at the coffee shop; someone can come in everyday and we quickly stack up fleeting moments of interaction and all the while have no idea who the other is, but one day, a moment is taken to ask the name of the other. Once names are exchanged, it’s a whole new interaction as if the name is your “in” this allows you to ask questions, see who the other is. At least this has been the case with me, maybe I am a little nosy or curious, but I can’t help it. For me, it has that feeling of “yeah, we go WAY back.” Like an old friend. And even though that’s not the case, I like that feeling of seeing an old friend when they walk in the door.

I like going for a run in the neighborhood and passing my favorite old couple on the street with a smile and a wink. Or running into Steve who is giving his son a pep-talk on how to ride a bike even if it’s scary, or passing Lee and his co-worker out for a run along the riverfront. It’s the hellos I’m after, the community, the recognition of knowing and recognizing the we are all tied to one another.

We are all fellow travelers in this life. We’re all in this together.

Monday Marinations

2009-04-13T11:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a trial theme for Mondays. I am a lover of words, especially the words of others and I find myself constantly gathering words from poems, books, and quotes or quickly scrawling words I hear onto grocery receipts and post-its. And I am forever reflecting and marinating on the beauty of what I read and hear. So, as long as I can remember, my Monday posts will include little pieces of what I am currently marinating on. I hope you enjoy!

There’s a lovely story about a Hasidic rabbi who always told his
people that if they studied the Torah, it would put scripture on their
hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The
rabbi answered, “Only God can put scripture inside. But reading
sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts
break, the holy words will fall inside.” -Anne LaMott

"No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again"
-Regina Spektor

"And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its shame, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."

“Now we have Gogurt. Did we have a mobility problem with yogurt?”

Ellen enacts hypothetical phone conversation….

“Oh hi Tom. Oh, I’ve been wanting to see that movie. Hmm… No, I just opened a yogurt….I’m in for the night…yeah. No…not even later, it’s the kind with the fruit on the bottom. Have fun.”

-Ellen Degeneres

“I stand on the edge of these wetlands, a place of renewal, an oasis in the desert, as an act of faith, believing the sun has completed the southern end of its journey and is now contemplating its return toward light.” –Terry Tempest Williams

"The famine's begun for many in our own land; right here; right now. The reality is that we only come to know Jesus as the bread of life because we've known hunger. Whether we hunger for meaning, freedom, intimacy, freedom from fear, or something else, when we find the one who can satisfy the hunger, our gratitude becomes a natural wellspring of praise. The same thing is true again and again. We know Christ as light because we've walked in darkness; know Him as life because we've been in the realm of death; know Him as father because we've stood by the grave of our own dad. However it works for you, I hope you can see that real thanksgiving is always born out of the transformation which comes from crisis."

-Richard Dahlstrom

"so I shall search the land of void and vision until I find something fresh like water and comforting like fire; until I find some place in eternity, where I am literally at home"
-GK Chesterton

If every building falls

And all the stars fade

We'll still be singing this song

The one they can't take away

I'm gonna get there soon

-Mat Kearney