Things I Learned From Old Xangas at 5am

(I can't sleep. Again.)

1. Randy is a good name for a gnome.
2. It IS possible to get shampoo up one's nose.
3. Tall pill bottles could possibly double as fetus storage.
4. The "If by 'this' you mean 'that' then yes" game originated sometime in early 2005.

The red doors seem to stir the thoughts asleep in my soul, when my body itself refuses such sleep.
Much needed reflection came tonight, under the light of this doorway.
The stillness of the neighborhood accentuated the roar of plane leaving the city. Something about it called to me, telling me its time to go. Whether this is my desire or His Calling I don't know.
Maybe more time by the red doors will bring an answer.

Except for the running naked through the forest, there's not a lot I miss.

I've mentioned some of my pet peeves before, and I realize that the reasons behind most of these are irrational and self-centered, but acknowledging that doesn't make them disappear.

So, with that disclaimer, another irrational rule for interaction with the drc:

#22: Don't doubt my street smarts.

For example, don't tell me I should walk with with a guy in what you see as a sketchy neighborhood.  Did I miss the day in school when we discussed the bullet-proof qualities of boys?  Sorry guys, you're still gonna bleed if you get shanked.

"There is safety in numbers."  Sure, kinda.  But a crowd attracts attention, and two people can be mugged just about as easily as one.

Whats the worst that could happen?  Cat calls (also known as getting "holla'd at"), strange looks, getting hit up for money, and, well...not much else. 

I've walked alone in the ghetto.  I've walked alone in the ghetto after dark.  I live alone(ish) in the ghetto(ish).  I've had a few interesting encounters at to the Crackerbox on Olive Street in PB (like when the one-eyed man offered me a lawnmower).  A guy tried to sell me drugs and used Mardi Gras beads outside the gas station on Broadway (which, by the way, closes way to early).  I could go on, but most of these stories are way funnier in person when I can do the voices.  Ask me about pampers and the collection agency vacuum sometime.

Telling me not to walk alone is like pushing me out of the car and driving away.  Ok, not the best analogy. . . The point is, I'm going to rebel just to prove you wrong.  I tend to do things just to prove I can, especially when it involves traveling rather long distances without a car (ice storm, post-prom, etc. . .). 

Not exactly the picture of meekness, eh?

If I'm honest, I don't really want to change.  I like taking certain risks (but only the ones that put my physical well-being in danger, if it affects me mentally/emotionally-I'm out). 

Good gosh I hope I don't have a daughter like me.  I know people have only good intentions when they express concern for the safety of myself and other females, thats what makes this an irrational pet peeve.  I know I'm being ridiculous, but c'est moi.  Remember the tshirts/stickers/buttons that said "Please be patient, God isn't finished with me yet"? 

Yeah.

(at least its not Precious Moments)

Currently playing (over and over and over and...): Carry Me Through by Dave Barnes

This song is most definitely amazing.  Miss Ellie and I may be obsessed (but not as obsessed as she is with unnamed author:

Yeah, I love him.  In an 'I don't know him, but he makes me laugh so he can't be all that bad and he also has pictures on his website smoking cigarettes so he hates "The Man" (meaning, of course, the fundamentalist groups not THE THE MAN (aka Christ....I don't know why the KJV doesn't call him that name.))'  Yeah. I love him in that way.')

Also currently playing: A throwback podcast: Making Sense of. . . Work, or Why I am a Corporate Diva by Day, Crafty Macgyver by Night or Finding Spiritual Significance While Sitting in a Cube or Maybe You Should Be Working D, Not Blogging

And then a day in the ghetto...

I was late to work this morning (shocker, right?) so instead of taking a lunch I just planned to run to the nearest gas station to stock up on Dr Pepper and something snacky. After successfully maneuvering through the maze of the CBC parking lot I turned up my radio to find this song just beginning. I did what any normal person would--jammed all the way to the gas station, rushed in and out, and managed to catch the last few bars as the song ended.

Come on, you don't believe that, do you?

Instead, I just drove until the song ended and stopped at the nearest gas station, which happened to be this little gem:


(we'll talk about how much I love google map's street view another time)


This place was great...after ducking under the array of tshirts hanging from the ceiling I grabbed a couple DP and caught myself before nearly tripping over several poorly arranged stacks of drinks in the middle of the floor. I carefully retraced my path to the front and got in line behind two of the south's finest. Except not so much. . . One guy was shirtless and incredibly rude to the cashier. I'm not sure his pal knew how to count money, he just laid all he had down and let the man behind the counter take what he needed, which wasn't easy with shirtless-boy still wandering around and mouthing off. He eventually asked him to leave, finished up with the math whiz, and gave me a tired smile while rolling his eyes.

Until this point I'd been thinking, "Ok, note to self: don't come here again," but something about the cashiers expression made me rethink that.

I grew up in a city where the majority of the families with money left as soon as they could. Some people label it as white-flight, but I think it was less of a race issue and more related to financial status. On the surface it makes sense, if the town is falling down around you, get out. Go someplace safer, with more opportunities.

But, what if we took another approach. A radical approach. Instead of fleeing from these places that aren't exactly safe or prosperous, we flock to them. We become the salt and the light. Light places don't need more light, it is the dark places that need Hope and Truth.

Imagine yourself in the cashier's position, day after day, seeing nothing but punks and being disrespected again and again. Would a smile and a "thank you" from one customer make a difference?

Love is a life lived on purpose.


Edit: Similar thoughts by someone wiser can be found here.

Just another night in the ghetto

I really do love my neighborhood.



I was late to church tonight, of course. As I was walking from my car a man called out to me and asked for money. I told him the truth, I didn't think I had any cash on me. After looking through my purse I told him I was sorry, I didn't have anything. Oh a whim, I asked if he wanted to come to a church service. He said he really just wanted to find something to eat, he hadn't in two days. I told him I'd check in my car but I couldn't guarantee anything. While we walked back to my car he told he he was trying to find a job but was having trouble because he just got out of jail. I told him Our House had some kind of work program but he said he'd tried that but wasn't able to find a job in the required time period so they kicked him out of the program. I gave him a handful of quarters that my mom had given me for laundry. I told him it wasn't much but it was my laundry money. He hesitated and asked if it was going to mess me up. I told him I could hand wash what I needed. He thanked me and I told him he was welcome to come to Epoch if he ever wanted to. He repeated the time and location and we parted ways.*



Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little. - Edmund Burke



After church I went to the car wash. A man approached me and asked if he could help. I declined, telling him I'd rather do it myself and that I kinda enjoyed it. He laughed and said he wished he saw more women like that. I said my daddy taught me right, he said he wished his dad had done that. He walked away, still chuckling, repeating "Yeah, I wish I saw more women like that."



If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.
- Emily Dickinson



*During church I replayed this in my mind, wondering if I did the right thing or what I could have done differently. Should I have skipped church and gotten him something to eat? Probably. Maybe I should have told him I'd get him whatever he wanted if he'd come to church with me (there's something sketchy about that, despite my genuine intentions).

I keep saying I'm going to keep granola bars or something in my car for situations like this, but I've let that slide. Giving someone cash is risky, so tonight I decided to get some grocery store gift cards to keep in my wallet. If you'd like to donate to drc's love-your-neighbor-gift-card fund, feel free :).

$10...a movie, or a meal for someone who hasn't eaten in 2 days?


Only a life lived for others is a life worth while.
- Albert Einstein


We sang this today:




Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart for what is yours
Everything I am for your kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity.



To honestly pray that takes courage and faith, but in the words of William Carey, "Expect great things from God, attempt great things for God."
(Thanks to Dr. Carter for that one)

welp

Yesterday's theme: "Um, in English please?"
87% of the emails I received made no sense to me. Most of the time thats due to my lack of experience (yes, even at 14 months), but yesterday, well, people just didn't feel the need to use complete thoughts and/or correct grammar. RPS does not mean mind reader.

I had a million and one things to do after work. How many did I actually do? Maybe 3. I tried to get my oil changed, but the attendant said it'd be a two hour wait, and technically they closed in half an hour. I told her I'd wait and do it another time, then we spent that half hour chatting. Do I know this girl? No, but she seemed like she needed to talk, so we did. After awhile this other guy joined us after I loaned him my knife. It was the most random 30 minutes of my day, but it was good.

and yo that's when it hit me, that LUV is a VERB

are you down with the dc talk?
d-down with the dc talk?

This is the best video I could find. Obviously I didn't look really hard, I was too busy goose-laughing.



Seriously kids: "luv is enough if it's unconditionally given, now ya livin' out the great commission."

Love is a verb.

Love is spotting someone $3 worth of gas when they're stranded with no cash.
I lost my wallet last Sunday, so I've been trying to survive without any debit or credit cards. Have you ever noticed how many gas stations don't take checks? Friday afternoon I had to get gas, my light had been on for 40+ miles. I open my wallet and...no checks, I'd used the last one. I made it home, replace my checkbook, and of course, my car sputtered and died. I grabbed my gas can and did the walk of shame to the ghetto station a block away, but they didn't take checks. While I was mentally mapping out the next closest gas station the attendant told me to go ahead and fill up my can and just bring the money by when I could.

Love is bringing a friend groceries, not because they asked, but because you cared enough to be proactive.
My Deebs read about my joy over finding a box of macaroni and decided I could use some help. She showed up Saturday with all my favs, frosted miniwheats, poptarts, peanutbutter, dr pepper, and more macaroni!


Love is speaking the truth and asking the hard questions.
I was talking a friend Friday night, kinda explaining my lack participation lately, and I talked about my lack of passion for children's ministry (the focus of church x) and my growing interest in ministering to the downtown community and homeless population (a priority of church y). He caught me off guard when he asked, "Well, are you?" I'm not proud of my answer, which was something like "Um, not exactly. . . see, I. . ."
Yeah, so basically no.
I had a realization the other day. . . Community requires accountability, but accountability requires courage to ask these kind of things, to challenge each other to live this love we proclaim. Sometimes I want so badly for someone to say "Hey, is this still a problem for you?" Or "When is the last time you ______?" Because I want to tell someone, "Yes! Help me! This is a problem and I can't stop." While I am solely accountable for my sin, I feel like we've taken Christianity to an individualistic level it was never intended for.
I obviously lack this courage. "Help" is a four letter word. Asking the hard questions is usually the furthest thing from my mind. But grace. . . maybe someday. . .

This is Home

This is an amazing song.

I've got my memories They're always inside of me But I can't go back Back to how it was
I believe now I've come too far No I can't go back Back to how it was
Created for a place I'll never know
This is homeNow I'm finding where I belong Where I belongYeah this is homeI've been searching for a place of my ownNow I've found itMaybe this is homeYeah this is home
Belief over misery I've seen the enemy And I won't go back Back to how it was
And I got my heart set on what happens next I got my eyes wide It's not over yet We're miracles And we're not alone
And now, after all my searching After all my questions I'm going to call it home I got a brand new mindset I can finally see the sunset I'm going to call it home Oh
Now I know This is home
I've come too far And I won't go back Yeah, this is home

These words are huge to me. I love reading through old journals and seeing how my life has changed, and I'm always struck by God's faithfulness. The craziness of live seems to increase and build upon itself, each year outdoing the previous, but despite it all He is constant.

I'm so full of questions right now, and in searching for answers I only seem to produce more questions. But its good. In the middle of the messes and uncertainty about who I am, I've found home. This is my life, this is my journey, this is my home. . . I belong to Him.


"Belief over misery"
This has been a major theme for me over the past year or so. The foundation for my faith cannot be my circumstances. Life hurts sometimes, but like John Waller says, "You and I choose to believe."


"I got my heart set on what happens next I got my eyes wide It's not over yet"
I struggle with being overwhelmed by the present. Even tonight, as I saw my gas gauge sink below the empty mark and wondered what I was going to do since I'm currently wallet-less and most gas stations don't take checks (not around my ghetto at least). Then I began to think about the growing pile of paper on my desk and all the junk at work lately, and also about payday being a week away and wondering if I'm going to make it. . . But then I found a box of macaroni in my kitchen, which I took as a reminder of God's gracious provision (I had resigned myself to eating oatmeal, so this was a very exciting discovery. It was shapes too!)




Side note: Song writers are some of the people I admire most. To create something that speaks so deeply to the soul of so many people is a phenomenal ability. Music itself is one of life's most precious yet overlooked blessings, but that's a post for another day my friends.

Bob, Yanni, and eggs

How do you handle stress?
I need lessons.

Ignoring it doesn't work. When I employ the "just keep going" philosophy I tend to lose consciousness.

My other quick-and-easy coping method. . . well, its generally not considered "healthy" or "acceptable." Although, during the past few months I've forgotten why.

I miss Bob.



Maybe I should try sand in the base of my bag rather than water. I don't use it much because I'm afraid the noise would disturb the boys downstairs. Sometimes, though, you just gotta hit something. . .


I'm calmest when I'm painting, I can block out all the junk and just be. But, I don't think my boss would appreciate me taking random paint-breaks during the day.

(listening to Yanni helps a little)

So maybe I just need some preventative maintenance. I think I live like I bike. I try to plan and prepare, but that takes too much time, so eventually I just grab my bike and go. But then I've wasted all that time and all I have to show are unfinished plans. So not only am I late, I'm also usually ill-equipped. (Who rides without water??? Really. . .)

Frustration hits hardest when I can't seem to get my junk together enough to do anything for someone else. I spend so much time trying to keep my head above water that when someone near me is drowning, my arms are too tired to pull them up.


postsecret

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

The haunting feeling that I'm failing life or the continuous fight to get it together?




Fear of failure paralyzes the kingdom.

Welcome to My Life

Here's a basic run down of my fabulous Wednesday morning:

• wake up after sleeping approximately 11 hours (boo for narcolepsy*)
• breakfast (mmmm, frosted hay bales)
• shower
• get dressed
• wake up next between the toilet and tub with a splitting headache
• call Kat

I hadn't taken my frequent lightheadedness and semi-fainting spells seriously, and now I have staples in my head. Staples don't belong in heads!

Indeed.

Kathy and Angie are my new heroes.
And my dad continues to be my #1 for dropping everything and driving an hour to take care of me.


Its times like these when I stop and ask myself if this is really my life. I mean, who does this stuff??


I probably should have made up a great story about getting attacked by the killer attic squirrels, or being mugged while helping an old lady cross the street. But the truth hurts, and but "truth" I mean "my head."





*Its just easier to explain like that