Two less

Two less people in the world.
Two less people who smiled, laughed, cared...

Two people who lost the battle this weekend.

My heart is broken, my mind is a mess. I don't know how to stop this. Could I have stopped these two?


Reach out. Reach inside yourself and find your strength. Sometimes strength is just eating, or moving from the bed to the couch. Take care of yourself and to hell with other people. Good for the marathon runners, business owners, mothers and fathers...but if you woke up today you are winning.

Rawr. A rant.

So many facebook posts are about "faith in humanity restored" and feature an old person or someone with special needs. Why is it news when we are kind? Why are we shocked? Why do we ask for congratulations for treating humans like humans? Yes, it's great that you did something compassionate, but I wish that it were the norm, not a news-worthy exception.

Perfect weather for it...

I wrote this as though I hadn't heard the results. I think it would be just as relevant if things had gone another way...


It's time to build a campfire hold hands, and sing a little kumbaya.

If your candidate won, celebrate. Be grateful. But be gracious.
To continue to argue your point or insult the other candidate/party is hurting our nation by keeping us divided and angry.
It's time to heal, to cooperate, to be kind.

Parents, you are setting an example for your children. The jokes, the mocking, the memes...we are saying it's ok to be a bully or to laugh at jokes at someone else's expense. I am not innocent in this.

Christians, we should be the first to act with grace and humility, the first to love our enemies. This is the time to let your words and actions be your witness.

Out of the Darkness

Today I walked with friends (!!!) for the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walk.

I've participated before, in 2008 with my mom and friend Melissa, and last year...solo.

I wrote the same last year. I'll keep writing it as long as I'm here.

 This is from the 2008 memory wall, this patch means a lot to me. I'd love to high-five the person who wrote it.

I got to write love on my friends' arms today.

truth isn't always funny

Recently I saw a photo of a friend dressed up as a homeless person for Halloween.
My response:

I'm a little disturbed at your recent halloween costume, but it made me think, maybe you haven't had true contact with a struggling homeless or poverty stricken person. I believe you have a good heart and want to love as Jesus loved, so I challenge you to join me in serving any Wednesday evening you choose. My church serves 100+ every week and strives to build relationships, rather than just playing the hand-out game.
Poverty isn't funny. Homelessness isn't funny. There are folks that will play you and beg the shirt off your back, but should we stop serving? I certainly don't think so. I have a friend on the street that would take my underwear if I let her, but she still cares about me. Every time I pick her up she asks about my depression and my family. That's more than most Christian "friends" I know. 

critics, blah...

Response to a critic

I spent so much of my life being lied to, believing the enemy, thinking it was my fault that I had to struggle. I was blessed with some great believers and teachers, but I still (mis)read between the lines that it was all my fault and I was a failure. No matter how much I prayed, read, or served, I felt if I was sad or scared or had panic attacks that I was to blame.
I've been God-chaser, a worthiness-chaser, and an acceptance-chaser. But I've also been so deep in darkness that I couldn't see tomorrow.
I guess what I'm saying is I'm a little defensive when it comes to issues of anxiety and depression. I wish someone would have told me when I was 16 that it wasn't my fault and I was still loved beyond belief. I wish someone would have told me that when I was 20, or even now. To feel that I'm not at fault would be amazing. I hope I get there someday.
I get that I don't know you, but I know that people who hurt will read into things a lot. This post felt harsh to me. Blaming. I replied because I thought someone who was struggling might find these words hard.

Yes, God is...well, God. And he can and will do whatever he jolly-well pleases (to quote R. Richards). Sometimes he fixes things, sometimes he teaches us things, sometimes he wants us to fight. But I truly don't feel that he enjoys when we are in pain, or lonely, or feeling blamed. And from everything I've learned, we should offer love instead of criticism and higher-than-thou lessons

My point is: people are hurting. People read, listen to, and respect you.  Love first. Accept those struggling. Offer acceptance, ENCOURAGE, LOVE. Then teach.

Survivors

People who have cancer but fight for remission are called survivors.

People who have a loved one commit suicide are also called survivors.

What about those who have fought the darkness and haven't ended it? What do we call them?
Fighters? Lucky? Dead Men Walking?

I will never, EVER blame someone for killing themselves. I don't admire them, but I get it.
Somehow I'm still here.

Last year I went to the ASFP's Out of the Darkness Walk. At this one table they had markers and paper asking, "Why are you walking?"
     I wrote "because I'm still here."

The tension between morning, understand, and fighting is strong.

I don't have answers.

Coming Soon(ish)...

Happy Birthday to me...

July 18th & 19th the Ride: Well Tour will be travelling through Little Rock.


In the meantime, support Blood:Water Mission!

Rowdy

Last week I saw a cat outside my apartment, so naturally I chased it. That's when I met Rowdy.
Well, "Rowdy" is what I called him, because I'd been netflixing Scrubs, and, well, you know...



So Rowdy and I walked all over my neighborhood, I swear he was smirking...I kept saying "Go home, boy!" but he just kept following me...

Eventually I realized it was 7am on a Sunday and I was awake, and that's just unacceptable, so I tricked him into chasing a squirrel and scurried back to my apartment.

light vs. dark . . . sound vs. silence

I live in a very not quiet neighborhood.  I am, for the most part, coming to terms with that.  When the weather permits I leave my windows open, but this can make falling asleep difficult.

There are some noises that make you hope that driver is wearing a seatbelt.

There are some noises that make you sigh and curse the creation of the subwoofer.

There are other noises, however, that make you run to the window, call 911, and pray. . .


I was in bed but not yet asleep when I heard a scream.  I assumed it was a crazy neighbor, but something made me keep listening.  When I heard the screams again I grabbed my phone and tried to see if I could tell where or who they were coming from.  Everything looked still.

 Maybe I just watch too many crime shows, but it sounded like a woman, crying and screaming, "Somebody help me, please!"

I told the 9-1-1 operator what I'd heard and she promised to send someone to check the area, but I couldn't just get back in bed.  I got dressed, grabbed my keys, stun gun, and a screwdriver (you never know) and crept out as quietly as I could.

 After walking the length of the alley in the direction I'd heard the noise, I crossed to the end of the block and saw two cops looking at a house across the street.  I told them what I'd heard and headed back to my apartment.  As I walked I prayed, for the life and soul of that woman, for her comfort and rescue--whatever the situation might be.

Now, a hour later, my heart may be beating normally again, but its still a little broken.

Evil is like a shadow -
it has no real substance of its own, it is simply a lack of light.
You cannot cause a shadow to disappear by trying to fight it,
stamp on it, by railing against it,
or any other form of emotional or physical resistance.
In order to cause a shadow to disappear,
you must shine light on it.-Shakti Gawain

saying no

I just had the most frustrating conversation ever.  I wish I could say "most heartbreaking," but I think reality and doubt have hardened my heart.

Visits from my friend June have been getting more frequent lately.  Most of the time I am at a loss as to what to do for her.  I obviously can't give her everything she asks for, and thats really just not my place.  But saying no is hard, especially to someone you want to invest in and have some sort of relationship with.

I decided that I wouldn't answer my door after 10:30 anymore.  Boundaries are good, right?  She knocked 3 different times before I answered.*

I said no, I wouldn't give her money.  I offered her blankets (including my favorite), but that wasn't what she wanted.

I was mean, but I wasn't cruel.

Handouts aren't the answer.  I'm not the answer.
When I figure out what it is, I'll let you know...

honesty and awkwardness

Never before have I had so many questions and comments concerning my scars as I have since starting my current job. I guess partly it is because many of these scars are only a year or so old, but it is also due to more exposure. I spend much of my day using my hands to show people their options. Somehow this gives them the right to ask personal questions.

Usually I laugh it off and talk about how clumsy I am (which is not a lie). If they push for specifics I blame a stray piece of glass, a neighbor's cat (who moved 6 months ago), or something else to that effect.

It has crossed my mind that some of them must know, but I choose not to think about it. This week I realized that these are the people who don't ask questions, who stick to socially acceptable topics.

Except her. I don't know her name or anything about her, but she's a hero to me. . .

She was looking for a plaque, the metal kind you can get engraved. I told her we didn't have anything like that but was able to point her to a few local trophy shops. She mentioned she was from out of town and not very familiar with the area, so I gave her the phone number of the nearest one. She thanked me and left.

In 10ish minutes she was back. She spoke quietly, asking if she could talk to me. I agreed, knowing this had nothing to do with framing or anything else in the store. She said she'd noticed the scars on my arm and very emotionally told me about her friend's suicide the week before (the reason she was in town). She showed me her friend's picture and urged me to get help and to know that things will get better. Looking back, I can think of so much I could/should have said, but at the time all I could do was whisper thank you and try not to let my tears catch the attention of my boss, who of course was not too far away.

How many times have I suspected, or even known, that a stranger was hurting and done nothing? How many times have I ignored the obvious pain of my friends? Only because the truth is ugly, awkward, and makes us all more vulnerable. This girl is a hero for seeing the value of Truth above what may be uncomfortable.

"Hugs, Not Drugs," or "Hugs, Not Splattered Brains on the Sidewalk"

This makes me proud to be Danish.*










*Would it be redundant to say Danish-ish? I means, I'm not 100%...

dark days, busy people

I feel like I haven't stopped crying since Thursday.

I don't know what causes this or if there is any sense behind when and why, but the last three days have been bad. Very bad.

It began as soon as I woke up Thursday. Mornings are often bad, but this time it didn't get better. I was cring so hard I thought I'd throw up. And I couldn't stop. I called in sick to work (yeah, now my boss really loves me) and spent most of the rest of the day in bed. Saturday I was scheduled to work 9 hours, but that wasn't happening. I ended up going in at 4 and having a horrible night.

I stayed in bed until 4 today, then I made myself eat something and go to church. While I was getting ready I convinced myself that after church I'd come home and end it. While I was there I couldn't sing, or smile, or pay attention to much of anything really. . . but I was there.

No one knows what to say to someone like me. . . I get that. But those who make an effort do matter. I ran into June as I was leaving. It was hard to get her to accept that I couldn't help her this time, that I just didn't have the money/resources. She asked if anyone inside could help her (we were standing outside the church). I told her I didn't know and she realized I was crying. She asked me what was wrong and if I was depressed. I told her I was but couldn't explain why. She tried to get someone from the church to come out and talk to me but they just seemed annoyed when she opened the door. I told her they were busy, they all had enough of their own stuff going on and didn't have time to talk to me. Saying this outloud made the tears uncontrollable, so I just started walking...


Are people really that busy? Yes.
Should that be a valid excuse? I'm not in a position to answer that.

On one hand I'm disappointed with the people I call my church, but I recognize that if the situations were reversed I would probably react in the same way.

But I really like how June didn't beat around the bush or try to be polite...she flat out asked if I was depressed and suicidal. I could learn a lot from her.


This has all given me something to ponder for awhile, but the reality is I'm still sad and alone, and really, I just don't want to wake up tomorrow.

diphenwhat?

I had more fun tonight than I have had in a long time.

The EEEs were fantastic, the whole show was great. How about the Chiotes? They've come a long way from cavemen. I giggled at the creepy tiger blasters "preshow," but I think it creepy my friend Ellen out.



Xanax + diphenhydramine = serious sleep. Just ask my friends from church who resorted to yelling through my open window when I didn't answer their calls (I slept right through 'em...thats some good stuff) (not that I recommend it).

But thats what its about...community...yelling through windows, checking in on people, phone calls, faxing resumes, etc...

I don't think I knew what I was looking for when I showed up at Epoch, but I knew it when I found it.



I'm still wearing pants. Its 3am.

June, again.

I met June ("just like the month") in January. She was cold and her ankle was hurt. After a stop by Taco Bell we drove to her friend's place, but no one was home. We ended up parting ways at an old gas station in a sketchy area. I gave her the sleeping bag I kept in my trunk, but I'm sure it couldn't keep out all the cold that night. I worried about June. She told me her daughter had died the previous year and it really messed her up, but she was trying to do good and pray to God.

A few months later my friend called and said he, too, had met June. He ran into her on the other side of town, where she had been staying with her mother she said. She asked him for a ride to her job at a grocery store closer to my neighborhood. I rejoiced for June.

Tonight, a group of us were gathered outside Epoch's new location, and I ran into June again. She needed help getting a place to stay and some clothes to wear to work (she was part time at the grocery store still). It takes much longer to walk to my apartment from there than it does to ride I discovered, but we walked back together. I gave her some clothes and toiletries and a bag to carry them in, then dropped her off at a kind of halfway house near her work. We talked a bit before I dropped her off; she said her mother was out of town. She's hoping to start work at Sonic on the 18th when the kids go back to school. She said she's be clean for a month, and told me how horrible going through withdrawal was. I told her I had been praying for her since we met in January, and I would keep praying for her if she'd pray for me too. We talked about how easy it was to believe Satan's lies and how important reading the Bible is. I prayed for her before she got out of the car, and for myself too, that we'd be strong against the lies and remember the truth about God's love.

On my way home I was sad, then I was mad. I was sad because she'd seemed like she'd gotten things together when my friend met her. I was mad that I couldn't make everything ok. I asked God why...why June, why she couldn't be given a break.

But tonight isn't the time to think about all that. Tonight is the time to see a need and try to meet it. Some people will criticize me for bringing her to my apartment, others with say I shouldn't have driven her anywhere...Because I am imperfect, my help will be imperfect, but I pray that the more I seek God, the more clearly I will see the right ways to do these things. I can't wait until I have all the answers or a fail-proof 3 step plan though, because the needs are here now.

Somebody's Baby
Jon Foreman

She yells, 'if you were homeless,
Sure as hell you'd be drunk
Or high or trying to get there
Or begging for junk
When people don't want you
They just throw you money for beer'

Her name was November
She went by Autumn or Fall
It was seven long years past
Since the Autumn when all
Of her nightmares grew fingers
And all of her dreams grew a tear

She's somebody's baby
Somebody's baby girl
She's somebody's baby
Somebody's baby girl
And she's somebody's baby still

She screams, 'well, if you never
Gone it alone
Well then go ahead, you better
Throw the first stone
You got one lonely stoner
Waiting to bring to her knees'

She dreams about heaven
Remembering hell
As a nightmare she visits
And knows all too well
Every now and again when she's sober
She brushes her teeth

Today was her birthday
Strangely enough
When the cops found her body
At the foot of the bluffs
This morning's anonymous call
Tipped off the police

They got her ID
From her dental remains
The same fillings intact
The same nicotine stains
The birth and the death were both over
With no one to grieve

My Birthday Wishlist

Friday is my birthday.

24 isn't a very significant number, but nevertheless, I'm getting older.

Last year I wanted books. My amazon wishlist is still out of control, but I'm so far behind on my reading that it'd be ridiculous to keep adding to my library.

My other insignificant wants include a new bike, an easel, and a trip to Paris...none of which are affordable to any of you.

But, it is my birthday, so I'm coming to you with a request: care about what moves my heart...Open your wallet and give.

As a result of the many calls that 1-800-SUICIDE receives every day, and because of a delay in government funding, Hopeline is struggling to pay their phone bill. If this bill is not paid, the government will be allowed to fully take control of 1-800-SUICIDE. Part of what makes Hopeline such a powerful resource is that the calls placed to this number are completely private and confidential. We believe that the responsibility for providing a private and confidential environment in which to find help should remain in the hands of those who had the heart and compassion to begin this work ten years ago.

This is the Blood:Water Mission: committed to clean blood and clean water to fight the HIV/AIDS pandemic, to build clean wells in Africa, to support medical facilities caring for the sick, to make a lasting impact in the fight against poverty, injustice and oppression in Africa through the linking of needs, talents and continents, of people and resources.

A Little Help

I think, when it comes to our hands, one of the greatest things we could begin to do is to raise our hands, and to admit that we have a need.

Josh Loveless

Epilogue pt.2

If we hear of someone's need, we tell them we'll pray about it. What if we are the answer to that prayer?
I've probably said it before, but love is action. Love isn't empty words that tumble out of our mouth without any real care or concern. "I'll pray for you" or "I hope things get better." In some situations, pray is all that necessary, or all that you can do, but other times, if we really think, we can do something to help. Maybe it won't help the specific problem, but surprising a person with a card or little gift can mean a lot. Spending time with a person may be the encouragement they need. Something, anything, to show you care.

Needs are needs, but I know I'm bad a qualifying things. I'm unwilling to ask for help when a need is a result of my own poor decision making, or if I see it as something I should be able to handle. I get overwhelmed by life sometimes. When the dark days come I struggle just to do dishes and laundry. Sometimes med changes have side effects that make being awake almost impossible, so go to work then come home and crash. But then stuff doesn't get done, laundry doesn't get washed, trash piles up. But come on, I'm 24(ish), I should be able to work a 40-hour week and keep up with housework, right?

I think sometimes we're all "the least." We all need a little help sometimes. Jesus didn't qualify. He never addressed why these people were hungry, sick, naked, or in prison. He simply commanded that we help.

We say in our African idiom, ‘A person is a person through other persons.’ The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms. I need you in order to be me as you need me in order to be you. We are caught up in a delicate network of interconnectedness. I have gifts that you don’t, and you have gifts I don’t–voila! We are made different so that we may know our need of one another. The completely self-sufficient human being is subhuman. Thus diversity, difference is of the essence of who we are.
-Archbishop Desmond Tutu

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)