She comes home absolutely frustrated. All day, it’s been coming at her from all angles. She’s flustered to the point that you can see the tension in her jaw. She whips that black F-150 into the driveway, gunning it down that quarter mile two-track. She comes to a halt, dust still rising under the tires and she’s already climbing the porch steps. Keys still dangling and swaying from the ignition. Throws the door open, kicks her hikers off, and throws her bag on the kitchen table. Then she’s in her room. She rips her hair out of that stupid pony tail, rips that ugly polo off and throws on a wifebeater and the dirty jeans from yesterday’s hike. Heading out the door she grabs her worn-looking Ariats (and they deserve it, she didn’t pay for them to look that old). She sits down on the top step…her dogs whining 20 yards away. She pulls on her boots, jumps up and takes off behind the house, mumbling something, almost on the verge of tears. Behind the house, she open ups the broad barn doors. The second stall on the right is where she’s heading. It’s Mae, her way-to-cooperative-for-an-Arab sidekick. She leads her out by the halter, makes a quick exchange between the black halter and the nearest bridle and she’s heading towards the back door. She doesn’t have time to deal with a saddle right now. She needs out. She opens it with one hand and then brings her horse out. Left hand grasping the reins and the withers and right hand on the opposite side of the horse’s back, she pulls herself up. “C’mon babe. Let’s go,” she whispers.
The pair return shortly after nine o’clock. Dusk is settling in and the dogs have went back to their respective straw piles. Sad puppy eyes, but that little wag in the tail when they see their girl. She locks Mae up and closes up the barn. Then let’s that huge breath out.
Sometimes, you have moments of utter inspiration, thoughts you can’t wait to spill, that sort of thing. Other times, like right about now, everything’s just this nondescript mess of thoughts, that may be nudging you, but aren’t necessarily driving you crazy, upsetting you, exciting you, or even just nagging at you that horribly. So, tonight (or early this morning, I guess) I’m just going to write. It’s not going to be good. It’s not going to be cohesive. It may not even make that much sense to you.
I just caught up on listening to Rob Bell. What stuck out to me?
- I ask that You please meet me in the very, very grey. And I know that You have before. With a ladder or a rope? Nope. A cross.
- Matt 5 v. 10
- The world gives us two options. I want more, because there are.
- Think about this: God sends the sun and rain to both sides. The right, the wrong, the good, the bad…labels we hand out willingly, and without authority.
- The Bible never uses the word “Christianity.” The term “Christian” is used only thrice.
- “Disciple” is used 263 times. Think about that and the implications of the idea of “religion.”
- Joshua 5v13 – Take off your sandals Joshua (insert: Dani) ! Have a bigger perspective.
- And last but definitely not least, Christ as my identity, not some job, occupation, value to society, man, friend, salary, poor habits, achievement…
Yesterday, I was sitting at work. Honestly, I’d been thinking about it and I decided I was going to make a concentrated effort to actually relate and connect to every person I said “hello” or “have a good night” to, all the time considering that these exchanges usually last all of three seconds. I kept telling myself that I was not going to be that person that asks “How are you?” and doesn’t listen to the answer. It was really bothering me. So I did. I’m sitting at the door. It’s Fall. I can see out the doors. I’ve got my left leg pulled up to my chest, kind of just looking outside, not staring at my computer or planner or book or notebook at the time and a girl walks downstairs. I use the term girl, but after I tell this story, maybe the term “woman” is more accurate. I look at her as she comes downstairs and tell her to have a good night and smile. It’s a lot easier to smile when someone else is smiling. It is one of the most contagious acts in the world. (That and yawning.) She’s a beautiful person…the type of girl with eyes that let you know she’s a “joyful spirit” and she’s in engaged in this whole thing. Eyes say a lot. She leaves, and it’s relatively quiet and slow in the Dow, so I go back to doing whatever it was that I was doing on my computer. The girl had left the Dow completely, but about a minute later (enough time to think a little bit), she comes back in. I smile and say “Did ya’ forget something?” And, this beautiful person holds out this book and asks if I’ve read it. I glance at the title (“Captivating”) and tell her “Nope, I haven’t.” She asked if I was a reader and I said yes. So, she asked if I wanted it. Not if I wanted to borrow it until next Tuesday, but if I wanted it. Me, though: “To borrow?” She says “Yeah.” She tells me how it is similar to “Wild at Heart,” which I’ve heard of… a book aimed towards the male species. It’s also written by the same couple. So I accept willingly and ask her if she’s usually there on Tuesday nights. She says “Yes, I’m usually here earlier.” I told her I’d try to bring it back on Tuesdays when I work now, but she could have cared less if she got that book back. I thanked her and read the back of the book and she left. It’s so funny how life works out. She could have so easily not had that book with her, not came out those doors at that time, not even really taken notice of me, but she did. I texted my roomie and my best friend and told her how something “really weird” had just happened. Please, take into consideration what the back is about. I tried to find the writing from the back of the book, but here is the editorial review. Same idea.
Every woman was once a little girl. And every little girl holds in her heart her most precious dreams. She longs to be swept up into a romance, to play an irreplaceable role in a great adventure, to be the Beauty of the story. Those desires are far more than child’s play. They are the secret to the feminine heart. And yet—how many women do you know who ever find that life? As the years pass by, the heart of a woman gets pushed aside, wounded, buried. She finds no romance except in novels, no adventure except on television, and she doubts very much that she will ever be the Beauty in any tale. Most women think they have to settle for a life of efficiency and duty, chores and errands, striving to be the women they “ought” to be but often feeling they have failed. Sadly, too many messages for Christian women add to the pressure. “Do these ten things, and you will be a godly woman.”The effect has not been good on the feminine soul. The message of Captivating is this: Your heart matters more than anything else in all creation. The desires you had as a little girl and the longings you still feel as a woman—they are telling you of the life God created you to live. He offers to come now as the Hero of your story, to rescue your heart and release you to live as a fully alive and feminine woman. A woman who is truly captivating.
Then, I think for the entire .001 seconds it takes to realize how relevant this is to so many of the thoughts I’ve had lately and the internal conflict that’s there, but that I may not bring to the forefront of my concerns. Thank you Maria, I consider this book a timely gift from a well-intentioned and beautiful woman not afraid to step outside the box and take a little chance. Who were you to know that I’d be a Christian or even remotely interested or open to a new idea? Thank you, thank you, thank you. I started reading it last night.
Related, but remotely: my small group had breakfast this morning at the Windmill at 7:15 in the morning. I loved it. I wasn’t feeling well, but at the same time the fellowship was great. The week before though, when we met in Graves, somebody brought something up. It was about angels. How often do you think about angels? I got so excited. Girls questioning whether you would know if you encountered an angel or if they’re among us. Loving the magic in life, I choose to hope for the latter. I want to live with the idea that these people that I approach (or better yet, approach me) could indeed be placed gifts. Think about it. Can you think of anyone in your life that you have this inkling could be something bigger than you know…and if there are, do they know it? It’s so fun and whimsical in a childhood way to think about this. I have a few in mind.
Okay, I haven’t been feeling very well physically at all. My throats been really sore, my body aches unbelievably for how little activity I’ve subjected myself to lately and I’ve had some intense headaches, so I’m going to go back home before I get a ticket for having my car on the road. I love all of you. Enjoy this Fall season. It’s getting cold so fast. Appreciate your friends. Appreciate little but thoughtful gifts. Love on your family. Okay? Hugs and love and health and happiness. Good night.
___
One last thing. Perhaps this should have gone first and foremost.
Brandon Steffey, You are a hero.
Thank you. I pray that those around us realize that your efforts will never be considered in vain. I pray for the family of Army Specialist Steffey. I thank God for men like you willing to put your life on the line for the liberties so many of us take for granted every day. I pray for healing and the passage of time for the family of Brandon. I thank God that you were able to live such a happy, yet short life. I’m appreciative for all of you overseas and still in the U.S. Thanks to you, thanks to your brothers and sisters and best friends and canine companions, all working for us. Thank you thank you thank you. I am so sorry for the loss of your husband, father, son, friend grandson…Steffey family. You’re in my prayers. Knowing that that flag outside of the Dewitt is only half-mast because of someone I attended high school withs death brings me to tears, and then knowing that there are many more. Pray for our troops. Please don’t forget that they are doing what they do for YOU. I don’t care what your thoughts are on the war. They are there for YOU and I alike. R.I.P. Brandon
Sitting on the roof, she hear’s the door next door open. Dang.
She tiptoes to the opposite edge, the other side of that upside-down V, sort of apprehensive.
The door slams.
Stop thinking about it, damnit.
She jumps off.
Lands in a slight squat and begins to creep around the corner.
“Holy, you think you’re bulletproof or what?”
Apparently there was a guy in his early twenties, smoking by the streetlight, unlike her he’s abiding by those stupid college rules…20 feet from the building.
Not really catching her off guard, but admittedly she didn’t realize he was there, she responds with a little laugh and a “No…” and continues to creep around the side of the house.
Walking away, she laughs to herself. I’m bombproof.
On the back of a motorbike
With your arms outstretched, trying to take flight
Leaving everything behind
But even at our swiftest speed
We couldn’t break from the concrete
And the city where we still reside-”Brothers On a Hotel Bed” by Death Cab for Cutie
________________________
She’s wearing those tattered jeans, paled and worn because they’re her favorite. They’re like this by choice, not necessity, but she couldn’t care less either way. She’s got those old brown shoes on that she never wanted to throw away. They’re those boy’s Reefs she bought on sale when she was in high school. The lining is ripped, but she digs them and isn’t afraid if they get a little dirty. She’s got her mom’s pullover on. It’s big on her, so no doubt her mother was absolutely swimming in it. Hair in that stupid three-second knot, go figure. A few wisps hanging around her face.
She’s got her husky with her. She knows that she’ll stay a good hundred yards away or so, but never further. Every once in a while she does a drive-by of sorts within twenty feet. Just checking on her girl. They’ve got no worries out here though. The closest people are a good three miles away. She jumped in the car with her dog about an hour ago and just drove. She’s never told anyone about this spot, and she’d like to keep it that way. That little white sibe lay in the back of the car the entire way, except to get up once and nudge her girl in the shoulder about half way and then once again when the car was slowing. The girl gets out first, her pup crawling out the driver’s side behind her. Although these visits aren’t necessarily a normal occurence, they both know the routine.
Dog in tow, the girl starts towards that sunset along that tractor path. The grains around her match the color of her hair, now that it’s lost that baby blonde she used to have. Golds and browns and blondes, just a mess. They walk for a half hour. Nothing but the sound of the crickets and the shuffling of grains when the pup goes off-trail.
Finally, they come to that row of hay bales. The pup leaps first, but the girl springs up beside her. Grabs her pup around the shoulders as they sit by one another, then lets her go and the dog leaps off again.
She’s left sitting there, staring at the low spot in the sky that the sun seems to dangle in. She shifts in her spot, sitting indian-style, hands in her lap. But, that’s not quite comfortable. She pulls her knees to her chest and hugs her legs. That’s it. Chin resting on her knees, she sits and waits.
They walk along. Both cloaked in their respective black, coincidentally matching…they wouldn’t do it on purpose. Both wearing that same absence, but different. They wear it differently, but you know the relationship’s there. It’s dark out, really dark, but calm. The balls of light atop the lampposts, like captured and angry firefly magic, are the only things lighting the way. The leaves, if you could differentiate dark from darker, are red and orange and the greens that just couldn’t hang on. Half an inch thick on the sidewalk in some places. The older, aged one looks at the ground, noticing their kicks. Her shoes are worn and comfortable and they shuffle through the leaves, not finding any sort of rhythm and at the same time not really wanting to. The younger’s got her head up, breathing in that air through her nose on that face with the perfect complexion. Water pools in her eyes from the briskness of early November. But, she doesn’t wipe it away. Like diamonds.
It’s quiet out. They find that arc-shaped bench on the deserted street corner. The taller, paler sister lights her cigarette. Edgy. They sit down. The older slouching and comfortable and taking in the fresh air between puffs, knowing she appreciates it more than that cancer she’s inhaling. The younger: not completely relaxed, leaning forward, hands in pockets…like she’s got something on her mind.
So, you’re telling me you think there’s something about us?
Well, haven’t you noticed anything?
She laughs. Noticed what? She’s got this grin, but she exhales away from the younger. So, she’s got no idea. God forbid she allows anyone to read her that easily.
Well….
The aged lets the younger talk and talk, the whole time agreeing, but playing almost uninterested. She puts the cigarette out… it’s only half-smoked. She doesn’t like the things anyways. She reminds herself to kick the habit, and laughs, because it won’t be a problem. It never was. It was simply a fall-back that was never ever worth it. False comfort. And she’s done. She’s still got the smoke in her lungs, but she’s so beyond finished.
…do you think?
Babe, I’ve known.
What?
Why else would everything around us fail to make sense?
Oh…
And they talk and talk and talk.
Frequencies and wavelengths veering way left and further right of standard.
Way more going on outside the box than they can figure out or handle or deal with. But they continually try. Over and over ’til knees are bloody and eyes are black. And it’s hard when everybody else is rolling along on a higher gear: a cruise control of sorts. And they’re cruising alright.
Like four against the world.
They’re so incredibly different from one another.
Operating on a forever light and songs of love and more thought than you can handle and unstoppable fire, respectively.
Tears and experience and injustice and confusion: a common thread.
Joy of realization.
Too big.
But eventually, they’ll find their rhythm.
A string quartet playing for an audience of no one in particular, but all the same shaking the world. Turning everyday upside down, inside out, and right side back to where it belongs.
I love you and you know exactly who you are.
Sometimes I think about what I’ve seen, where I’ve been, what I’ve done, the people I’ve met, and I realize once again how absolutely blessed I am. Today I am sitting at work until seven tonight. It’s Fall Break, so campus is empty and in direct correlation, the Dow is also pretty dead except for a dance council that’s going on upstairs. Anyways, I was going through my photos and just thinking once again about the big and little things I’ve experienced that are so amazing. I figured I’d share a few. These aren’t in order at all. :)
I’ve played basketball and traveled with my best friends to Germany, Finland, Latvia, Denmark, Sweden, Estonia, Iceland, the Netherlands, Canada, Florida, Texas, Indiana, Illinois, Ohio and Wisconsin.
Hope in Germany 2008
I’ve seen the Koln Cathedral.
Koln Cathedral
And the Baltic Sea.
Miranda and I by the Baltic
I’ve stayed in Amsterdam.
Amsterdam
I’ve touched reindeer ;).
German Reindeer
And seen German vineyards from the sky. Eaten a few unripe ones.
German Vineyard and the River
I’ve experienced history that is not my own.
A Little Background
I’ve seen huge horses in Grand Rapids.
Meijer Gardens
And worked with my family to save baby Belgians. RIP Jinxsy.
I’ve had best friends that aren’t people.
Khora Jean
…and the reality of it all still kills me. And makes me so angry. And I still miss them. And when I allow myself to think about it (like now), it gets bad. Sorry I wasn’t there.
As a family, we’ve tried really hard.
Taman
A couple times, it worked entirely.
Faith
I’ve felt magic.
In the Fields
And the peace that comes with fresh-fallen snow in the creek bed.
Snowfall in the Creek
I’ve gotten close and personal with some of the little joys of Creation. You may recognize this. :)
My Mother's Bleeding Hearts
I’ve witnessed a promise in the beauty of Fall.
Fall Colors
I’ve seen Santa at my fave spot in Daytona Beach Shores: Atlantic Terrace.
Santa at the Beach
I’ve driven across the country by myself and loved it.
The Trip
I’ve crossed the Mississippi.
Mississippi
I’ve driven in one direction on a single interstate for 1900 miles.
I-80...a sign and also a symbol.
I have seen salt. A lot of salt.
Salt Flats and the Granny
…to be continued.
A few days ago I was up early around the house. I got up and went to Lemonjello’s and grabbed a coffee and a bagel. I headed back home and sat at the dinner table with only the natural light because Roach’s friends were on the living room floor. Phil happened to be awake, sitting on the porch. Said “Good Morning,” then I went upstairs and got in the shower and got ready for church. Jersey went with me to Mars Hill again. (We met up with Kelli and Kirsten again. Poor Kelli just had shoulder surgery, so watching her squeeze by five senior citizens into the middle of the row was kinda painful and humorous all at the same time.) Anyways, I came back downstairs, had my speed walk on again because it was 10:20 and I told Jersey I would be there at 10:20. Go figure, right? Phil was like “You are always busy. You need to slow down and enjoy things.” I kind of laughed, said a quick goodbye, and hustled out the front door to my car parked on the street. I kind of laughed about it though, because I think I do enjoy things. Sure, I do need to find a balance, but at the same time, there’s so much that I always want to be doing. You never know how much time you have left, right? So yeah, I’ve been thinking about that concept lately: balance. I guess it is a little much when I sit down at my desk on a weekday and find it weird that I have time to sit at my desk. But, it’s not like I don’t enjoy it. My last paycheck had 72 hours on it. So, I have been working nearly full time with a full credit load including 14 creds of natural sciences. Rough. But, I’m not sure if I’d have it any other way. I’m caught up on everything and ahead of some things as far as money goes. Money doesn’t really matter to me, but the stresses that it imposes do. I think that’s why I’ve been working so much…no stress. I don’t need money or status or anything. Just peace of mind. I did get some sweet Skull Candy’s though ;) Riots that are rasta colored and cyan and pink headphone headphones.
On Monday, I was sitting at work and I won a $700 Forum LRG online. Talk about surprising. I was so excited. Talk about a ball buster though; I was sitting at the Dow, which is not the ideal place to celebrate something that sweet. But, a win’s a win. So, I’ll take it ;). She should be here within the next two weeks. My other order is coming in on Monday. Just need a little help from above (literally) with some snow. Like a lot of snow.
Anyways, I’m sitting at Lemonjello’s right now. This girl (about my age) came in about ten minutes after I did and sat at the counter looking out the window. She’s got an unopened orange Jones Soda sitting in front of her. At first she was thumbing through her camera pictures, then she was on her phone (not talking) and now she’s fiddling with her fingers, staring out the window. I can’t help but wonder if she’s waiting for someone. Seems like she would have cracked it open. And LJ’s is shutting her down in 26 minutes. I hope there’s a reason or he’s just late. Really late. That’s no fun.
Two years and 11 months ago my mother and I came down to visit Hope College. It was freezing and raining and cold and I was so undecided at the time. After a short introduction to the campus, my mom and I stumbled into the place I’m sitting right now. We were completely intimidated (at least I was…my mom may have been fine). Organic, fair trade, what I thought were hippies, people I didn’t know, a long line, and a bunch of coffee names I didn’t understand. Needless to say, we ordered hot chocolate :) It’s funny though, because now I love this place. When I want to chill by myself, this is where I come. Plug my headphones in, warm up, and drink some dang good coffee. I’ve just about completed the list of fall flavors. One more to go I think. Tonight, it’s a white chocolate and pumpkin latte. With whipped cream? Yes please :). So, I’d like to say I’ve fallen into place here at Hope, but I don’t think that’s the truth. I think I have crashed. Start out so frazzled and unsure and just freaked out in general. Homesick the first month of college and moving to California for the entire summer two years later. I think we can say crashing. And I love it.
I’ve got to get something off of my chest. A few weeks ago I was talking to my mom on the phone and I told her how sick I was off all the richness at Hope and how Hope was full of stuck up people. I regret that. I guess what I should say is that I don’t mean it. I was homesick for an entirely different pace of life at the time (namely NorCal) or the middle of nowhere anywhere and I wasn’t looking at things the right way at all. No worries though. I’ve got it figured out. Yes, there will be the well-privileged who have a little bit different perspective on things, different habits, different priorities…it will happen. Good thing there’s a little variety. What fun would it be if absolutely everyone was from the outskirts of town and grew up playing on haybales or visiting Gram at her old church house with animals everywhere and no proper plumbing. So, I should appreciate the differences. At the same time, I’ve realized that I’m not alone in how I like to live. Today I was sitting in Systems and I took a look around and thought to myself “Alrighty, so it just takes until junior year for the classes to start sorting you into interest groups.” And I love that. These kids are the ones that love getting a little dirt under their fingernails, romping through the rivers, creeks, hills, forests, and fields. They like hunting and fishing and camping and DOING stuff. And they have a sense of humor and love learning in general. There’s something funny about that though. We are all genuinely interested in the environment, conservation, etc…and we do want to help, but it’s an entirely different group than pre-med. Yes, we have goals, we have interests, we love science, but we also have different priorities, in this case: life. We don’t rely on perfection for success in the future so we’re enjoying life while going to class, not just living for the grade on that dang V.P.S. quiz. You end up chatting with people at 3 a.m. that procrastinate just like you. It’s great. We’re like a great big nerdy, but not really nerdy family of friends. Hating and loving school all at the same time.
Anyways, fourteen minutes ’til close. I’m going to wrap this up. I love you all. <3
Song for the day? Revelation Song.
Thought: Believe me, you’re far from alone.
And another: Is that a rule? Or is that just a norm? Former…then okay your choice. Latter…break it and enjoy the spite.
And just to let you know, she got up and left. She was waiting for a ride. Good.
She wakes up at 6:03 a.m. The sun is peeking through the curtains, but barely, just barely. The house is quiet. Aside from the dogs, she’s the only one in the house. The scent of cinnamon, apples, and spice hangs in the air. It’s the candles no doubt. She wanders into the kitchen, stopping for just a second to pet her mutt of a dog at the foot of her bed, who still wants to be sleeping. The wooden floor is cold on her feet, so she slides her slippers on. She wanders over to the small stereo and turns on some music; today it’s a Gillian Welch. She turns it up, but just barely. She glances outside, through the fog. Her three horses are sleeping, standing up, but sleeping. They’re in their usual spot, right by the wooden fence and the corner of the barn. Everything looks at rest outside, so yawning, she turns to the coffee pot. Today, it will be a 9 cup batch, one heaping tablespoon for every three cups. She won’t drink that much, but maybe someone will stop out. And, you never want visitors without coffee. In her red slippers, huge hoodie and sweats, she takes a seat on the comfy arm chair in the open area outside the kitchen. She just sits. Grabs the camera she’s got sitting on the old coffee table to the right of her chair. She turns the camera on, flips to review and starts scanning through the pictures. They are beautiful. The pictures are from this week. Pictures of friends, pictures of family, pictures of mountains, her on her horse, and pictures taken while on her horse. There’s the water. The macro shots she took in her little garden that her mom helped her put together. There’s pictures from last week’s hiking trip. She flew her family out west and took them out on the trails. Then, the coffee’s done, or done enough for her to fill her huge ceramic mug and add a little too much sugar and some vanilla caramel coffee mate. She throws four pieces of raisin bread in the toaster while she’s getting her coffee ready, then grabs the country crock out of the fridge. Sitting down at the table, she drinks her coffee, chows on way too much bread, and eats, while reading the back of the magazine that’s on the table, but not really paying attention. The music’s drawn her in. Today, she’ll head outside, because it’s Tuesday and she’s got work. And she’s content. Or as content as a wanderer will ever be.
Country Mornings
Go back a few weeks.
I wrote about a girl checking her reflection out in the door I was holding open.
Same girl slammed the door in my face today on the way to Health Dy.
Awesome :)
Made me laugh so hard.
I’ve seen this girl twice.
Boy, she sure makes a good impression.
I’m supposed to be studying for a Vascular Plant Systematics test right now. I have an exam at 8:30 in the morning. But, I’ve got a lot on my mind.
First of all, and not that this matters to what’s going on in my little head, I want to set the scene right now. I’m sitting in the front. Carrie and Kali are on the right. Projector is screaming “FML” literally to the right. Carrie did it with paper scraps. Oh, she just turned it off. Save a little energy. Funny though. Kris is sitting in the middle. And to my left are Halston, Heather and Amanda. It’s 12:28 a.m. Martha Miller Center. 2nd Floor. Keypad Room. Complete with respective laptops, coffee mugs, shoes off, headphones, binders, and an I-Hop thing of coffee (not rightfully ours, but it’s here).
Okay, anyways, I’ve worked 21 1/2 hours in the past two days. I’ve had a lot of time to think and get stuff done. And the funny thing is, I haven’t really. And it was almost therapeutic. I can finally say that I’m back to feeling like myself. Time is a pure blessing sometimes. I can’t explain how greatful I am to be out of this rut. But, I’m there. I’m good now. I’m ready to be in the present, now. Even when I do fill my days, sometimes I neglect to be there when I’m doing it. And that is what it’s ALL about, is it not? Being there. When a smile isn’t necessarily a smile, but a mask of a facial expression to cover up your lack of interest in everything that is going on, there’s an empty feeling. When you’re just hoping for time to pass and praying that you could go back in time, there’s an empty feeling. Why is it that so often we wish for anything but now? I’ll work on it. No, I’m working on it.
Today, I went to Mars with Jersey. I’m so glad that she went with me. I love friends that you can relate with on that spiritual level comfortably. Full-blown expression of the joy and clarity and relief and awe you find in the Gospel is an awesome thing to be able to share with a friend and I really appreciate that we were able to do that today. Rob Bell was the teacher again today. My friends have called him a ”people-pleaser.” I don’t know if that is necessarily true. While reading “Velvet Elvis,” I noticed that he explicitly says he doesn’t know all the answers regarding the biblical text, the Gospel, and that the teachings of Christ are dynamic and adaptive and we will always be interpreting them. He’s just taking part in it with the rest of us and sharing it with us. I’m not going to pass judgement and I hope that I never put somebody else’s spiritual teacher down with phrases like that. Rob Bell expresses things in a way that are understandable, at times comical, and downright relative to us now, today. And, he has passion. I realize that church is not about going to listen to Rob Bell speak. Please don’t misunderstand. However, I feel that I grow when I listen to him. I feel like he is a friend. And unlike the church I went to back home (up until certain events), Rob Bell is inviting those to explore faith. Sitting back home (on one of the very last days that I ever went to this church) I remember our pastor directly calling out these 20-somethings who had came for the first time in a long time. They were struggling with drug issues and he called them out on it, put guilt on them, and implicitly said that they weren’t welcome. My family was disgusted. Disgusted. Someone struggling with issues like that, trying to get right, feels guilty anyways, do they not? No self-righteous man has any right to un-invite them from the faith because of their past. I felt horrible. I didn’t want to be part of that congregation. I was about 17 at the time, just sitting there, jaw dropped, embarassed and disgusted. And saddened. What are the chances that they went back to church? Slim to none. There’s no love in that. We are human. Rely on grace and mercy and most of all love.
I’ve had a few experiences like one I wrote about before. Sometimes when I get really down, I go grocery shopping after midnight. I’m not sure why. I don’t buy a ton of stuff or anything, just walk down just about every food aisle. I have no idea why it’s comforting, but that’s the way it is. I was in one aisle and I saw this man. Probably sixties. At an age where I would pray that retirement was near or around the corner, but at the same time understanding that Meijer’s retirement packages probably aren’t…well very existent to most employees. He was so downcast. Eyes just screaming sadness. Eye contact for about 2 seconds. I wanted to cry again. I’m not sure what it is, but I just wish that I could do something. It’s just a look some people have. And I hate it. I always try to find something to say and the moment passes and I’m left feeling like I didn’t do what I should have done. That’s when grocery runs aren’t as comforting, exactly opposite actually. Discomforting in a way that I don’t really know how to fix. I hope I continue to become more attuned to the fact that everybody, absolutely everybody, is fighting their own battles. Everyone has a story. And, I hope that I can help in some tiny way.
I’m listening to some music right now. It’s absolutely beautiful. Local band. Unimaginably beautiful. It’s got this vibe…I’m not sure what there is about it. It’s full. It’s calming. It’s deep and thoughtful. Some people are so incredibly gifted and so modest about it. I love that.
Anyhow, I’m back on my feet. I’m ready to get back in the here and now. And I’m going to start it with an all-nighter. Not a good start, I know that, but the Critical Issues Symposium on Wednesday will let me catch back up on my sleep.
I love you all.
Ndiye mwamba ni salama.
<gotta love those bongos, the beauty of sharing with different cultures and backgrounds and histories, gotta love family, gotta love love, gotta love the joys of fellowship, and the God-given beauty of Fall>
Latte of the day? Shorter Days. Toffee nut and maple. Thank you LJ’s.
Appreciate the moments. Remember them fondly, look forward to future, but be here. I’m going to try. :)
Arabian Butterfly Kisses
