Thanksgiving.
This week, I was explaining to my housemate, who is from Finland, the history of America's Thanksgiving holiday. She looked at me in astonishment, and said, "...this must be why America has been so successful! You have a holiday in which you give thanks! Finland should have a Thanksgiving!"
I am thoroughly convinced that my housemate will one day be the president of Finland, so I assured her that she could certainly institute said holiday when she is chosen as Head of State...
I have spent most of my life being embarrassed by my country, especially on a governmental (...please note: I respect my President, and his officials, even if I disagree with some of their choices and ideas...), and cultural level, but in the past year, I have become more and more proud to be an American. I live in a place where freedom is valued...I have learned that this is not the case in many places.
Freedom is costly and messy, and I'm so glad we live in a place where we are allowed to make mistakes, and have the freedom to clean up our mess. In America, there is always a solution.
I think one of the most profound ways America is different, (...and Canada...and the other places in the Commonwealth that observe a day of giving thanks), is that we take a day to be grateful. To gather as friends, family, and framily, put aside our differences, and celebrate everything for which we are grateful.
On that note, I'm thankful for freedom. I am thankful for Abraham Lincoln, who failed most of his life, but never gave up, and reunited a nation at war with itself, and then instituted Thanksgiving. I am thankful for American forefathers, and the military (...including both of my Marine grandfathers...), who have, at great cost, fought for my liberty.
I'm thankful for current fathers and mothers who took risks, sacrificed much, and invested in my life. providing me a "high ceiling" of possibility...a legacy that is now my foundation on which I am to build, for my family and for the next generation.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
I have been waiting since early spring to write this post. I was hoping to have it ready by my birthday, but like so many other things, that simply didn't happen. (One of my key areas of opportunity and focused area of character work is time management...)
One day in early March or April, I discovered that my birthday, September 10th, is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Day.
I found that extremely ironic.
Some of you reading this know that for most of my life, especially between the ages of 25 and 34, I struggled daily with the urge to kill myself.
I did not really want to share this publicly until I knew I had a really firm "yes" within myself to live. For years, it was a daily battle to say "no" but that's not a very strong choice. The strongest choice is to say "yes" to life, and that is very, very, very hard, especially if you've spent many years in pain, and have comforted yourself with the option to kill yourself.
Suicide then becomes a friend with your house key. The thought can come in at anytime, and is actually a welcome guest.
My story of suicide has many chapters, and involves many people who are still living and would rather not be mentioned in my story, so right now, I will spare you the details. However, I will say that I grew up in rural poverty, where, for many people in my life, suicide was the only perceived way of escape.
When I was 18, a woman who I randomly met at the gym somehow knew that was something that I was struggling with. She had struggled with the same thing, and had made a choice to live, many years prior.
She declared a Bible verse over me: Ps. 118.17, "...I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord."
I just remembered that last spring...
I decided to live, even though life was ugly...
Life became better, but several years later, some really hard things happened in my life, and I became very depressed again, and entertained the option of suicide. That was a tipping point...I gave it back a key, so to speak.
On my 25th birthday, I looked at a bottle of pills, and decided it was time. But then I did a bizarre thing. I called a friend. He told me to wait just 20 minutes. To this day, I have no idea how, in Chicago rush hour traffic, he made it to my apartment so quickly, but he did, and I'm still here...
I got through that, but I secretly entertained the option over the years, especially in my early 30's when more very hard things happened, and my chronic physical pain started to increase.
So here's the point where it kind of broke off for good. A man and woman in my life who have truly been surrogate parents to me, (you are probably reading this, and you know who you are!), took me to dinner. I confided in them that I was secretly contemplating suicide almost daily. They are unflappable. They simply exchanged glances, and my "Mom", said that if I did it, she'd kill my "skinny little a**."
Somewhere in the Bible, it says that laughter is like good medicine. I swear I started to laugh so hard that any suicidal tendency I had ever had broke off me in that moment, but there was more! My Father added to a story. He launched into telling me that when he and my mom were first married, he had jokingly threatened his new bride that if she dared die before he did, he would have her laid out in a red bikini. (She had one and he really liked it...). He proceeded to tell me that if I took my own life, he would do the same to me. (And since I knew he'd be the one preaching my funeral, he would not hesitate to carry out his threat...)
That idea was so funny and horrifying to me, and I swear I laughed so hard...I took back the key. Every time Suicide would knock on my door, I would remember that story, and would start laughing so hard, and tell it to go away!
I realize that sounds utterly bizarre, but whatever. It worked for me. This past year, I have also realized that saying no is not a strong enough choice...I actually need to say yes to living fully.
I know that is going to involve opening myself to experiencing pain instead of hardening myself to it and giving myself the option to escape it. And in that choice, I will also be making the choice to fully love myself...a choice I never knew until recently was actually an option. Now I know it's what everything hinges upon...
So I've said "yes" to living, and I hope my sharing this helps someone else establish their "yes"...
One day in early March or April, I discovered that my birthday, September 10th, is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Day.
I found that extremely ironic.
Some of you reading this know that for most of my life, especially between the ages of 25 and 34, I struggled daily with the urge to kill myself.
I did not really want to share this publicly until I knew I had a really firm "yes" within myself to live. For years, it was a daily battle to say "no" but that's not a very strong choice. The strongest choice is to say "yes" to life, and that is very, very, very hard, especially if you've spent many years in pain, and have comforted yourself with the option to kill yourself.
Suicide then becomes a friend with your house key. The thought can come in at anytime, and is actually a welcome guest.
My story of suicide has many chapters, and involves many people who are still living and would rather not be mentioned in my story, so right now, I will spare you the details. However, I will say that I grew up in rural poverty, where, for many people in my life, suicide was the only perceived way of escape.
When I was 18, a woman who I randomly met at the gym somehow knew that was something that I was struggling with. She had struggled with the same thing, and had made a choice to live, many years prior.
She declared a Bible verse over me: Ps. 118.17, "...I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord."
I just remembered that last spring...
I decided to live, even though life was ugly...
Life became better, but several years later, some really hard things happened in my life, and I became very depressed again, and entertained the option of suicide. That was a tipping point...I gave it back a key, so to speak.
On my 25th birthday, I looked at a bottle of pills, and decided it was time. But then I did a bizarre thing. I called a friend. He told me to wait just 20 minutes. To this day, I have no idea how, in Chicago rush hour traffic, he made it to my apartment so quickly, but he did, and I'm still here...
I got through that, but I secretly entertained the option over the years, especially in my early 30's when more very hard things happened, and my chronic physical pain started to increase.
So here's the point where it kind of broke off for good. A man and woman in my life who have truly been surrogate parents to me, (you are probably reading this, and you know who you are!), took me to dinner. I confided in them that I was secretly contemplating suicide almost daily. They are unflappable. They simply exchanged glances, and my "Mom", said that if I did it, she'd kill my "skinny little a**."
Somewhere in the Bible, it says that laughter is like good medicine. I swear I started to laugh so hard that any suicidal tendency I had ever had broke off me in that moment, but there was more! My Father added to a story. He launched into telling me that when he and my mom were first married, he had jokingly threatened his new bride that if she dared die before he did, he would have her laid out in a red bikini. (She had one and he really liked it...). He proceeded to tell me that if I took my own life, he would do the same to me. (And since I knew he'd be the one preaching my funeral, he would not hesitate to carry out his threat...)
That idea was so funny and horrifying to me, and I swear I laughed so hard...I took back the key. Every time Suicide would knock on my door, I would remember that story, and would start laughing so hard, and tell it to go away!
I realize that sounds utterly bizarre, but whatever. It worked for me. This past year, I have also realized that saying no is not a strong enough choice...I actually need to say yes to living fully.
I know that is going to involve opening myself to experiencing pain instead of hardening myself to it and giving myself the option to escape it. And in that choice, I will also be making the choice to fully love myself...a choice I never knew until recently was actually an option. Now I know it's what everything hinges upon...
So I've said "yes" to living, and I hope my sharing this helps someone else establish their "yes"...
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Changing My Mind
So I'm learning about declarations.
I know some of you who love me dearly will hand-palm your foreheads. Yes, you have been trying to teach me about the power of my words for...idk...like YEARS...
Well, it's FINALLY sinking in.
If you're unfamiliar, with declarations, you can check out this website. Steve and Wendy taught at my school a few times this past year, my Revival Group Pastor interned for them, as did a woman I'm doing some work for this summer. Their work is largely based on changing your life by changing your words.
Now I know others of you who know me and read this are going to be uncomfortable with that statement, but bear with me. Words are powerful, everyone knows that. Most of us also realize that the way we speak directly influences how we think, and how we think influences how we act, and how we act determines our destiny.
I ran around for a very long time, trying to find out God's will for me. Thanks to many wise people in my life, I was given very practical advice. (Having trustworthy, wise friends is essential to living life well...that's a story for another day...)
Right. Yes. Advice.
The Bible says to be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so you may be able to understand what God's good, pleasing and perfect will actually is, (Romans 12:2). Wonderful...so how do we renew our minds?
...you guessed it! By changing our words. Brilliant.
(...it's in my bio on this blog...my mind is a transitional neighborhood. I've invited you, the reader, to be part of that process...fun, huh?!)
My job of late has been changing the way I speak about myself and my circumstances. Things have not been easy for me during school. Going after your dreams isn't supposed to be easy, and often, when you're going in the right direction, there is a LOT of resistance-- take rip tides for example. If you go with the flow, you'll probably die. Best swim against the tide, I think.
...but I digress...sort of. I'm definitely swimming against the tide in regard to changing my words about myself. I'm on a negativity fast. No. Negative. Words. (...funny, they really aren't necessary...)
I'm learning to declare the truth about myself and about my circumstances. The website has more details, but I'm definitely declaring truth over myself and my life. It's challenging, but very, very helpful and necessary.
If you're facing opposition in an area of your life, or just feel stuck, you can declare the truth, which is usually the opposite of the situation. For instance, if you've screwed up, instead of "I'm such and idiot," you can say things like, "Mistakes are permissible, and they help me grow." If you're feeling stuck, you can declare, "...there is always a solution!"
One of my favorite declarations was written my kids at my church. I've included it below, because hearing kids declare this is SO AWESOME. It so makes me wish I had believed these things about myself when I was a child. Read them. Can you imagine?!?
"I am powerful, and what I believe changes the world! So today I declare:
God is in a good mood.
He loves me all the time.
Nothing can separate me from His love.
Jesus' blood paid for everything.
I will tell nations of what He has done.
I am important.
How He made me is amazing.
I was designed for worship.
My mouth establishes praise to silence the enemy.
Everywhere I go becomes a perfect health zone.
And...with God
Nothing is impossible!"
So here's to changing our minds...
I know some of you who love me dearly will hand-palm your foreheads. Yes, you have been trying to teach me about the power of my words for...idk...like YEARS...
Well, it's FINALLY sinking in.
If you're unfamiliar, with declarations, you can check out this website. Steve and Wendy taught at my school a few times this past year, my Revival Group Pastor interned for them, as did a woman I'm doing some work for this summer. Their work is largely based on changing your life by changing your words.
Now I know others of you who know me and read this are going to be uncomfortable with that statement, but bear with me. Words are powerful, everyone knows that. Most of us also realize that the way we speak directly influences how we think, and how we think influences how we act, and how we act determines our destiny.
I ran around for a very long time, trying to find out God's will for me. Thanks to many wise people in my life, I was given very practical advice. (Having trustworthy, wise friends is essential to living life well...that's a story for another day...)
Right. Yes. Advice.
The Bible says to be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so you may be able to understand what God's good, pleasing and perfect will actually is, (Romans 12:2). Wonderful...so how do we renew our minds?
...you guessed it! By changing our words. Brilliant.
(...it's in my bio on this blog...my mind is a transitional neighborhood. I've invited you, the reader, to be part of that process...fun, huh?!)
My job of late has been changing the way I speak about myself and my circumstances. Things have not been easy for me during school. Going after your dreams isn't supposed to be easy, and often, when you're going in the right direction, there is a LOT of resistance-- take rip tides for example. If you go with the flow, you'll probably die. Best swim against the tide, I think.
...but I digress...sort of. I'm definitely swimming against the tide in regard to changing my words about myself. I'm on a negativity fast. No. Negative. Words. (...funny, they really aren't necessary...)
I'm learning to declare the truth about myself and about my circumstances. The website has more details, but I'm definitely declaring truth over myself and my life. It's challenging, but very, very helpful and necessary.
If you're facing opposition in an area of your life, or just feel stuck, you can declare the truth, which is usually the opposite of the situation. For instance, if you've screwed up, instead of "I'm such and idiot," you can say things like, "Mistakes are permissible, and they help me grow." If you're feeling stuck, you can declare, "...there is always a solution!"
One of my favorite declarations was written my kids at my church. I've included it below, because hearing kids declare this is SO AWESOME. It so makes me wish I had believed these things about myself when I was a child. Read them. Can you imagine?!?
"I am powerful, and what I believe changes the world! So today I declare:
God is in a good mood.
He loves me all the time.
Nothing can separate me from His love.
Jesus' blood paid for everything.
I will tell nations of what He has done.
I am important.
How He made me is amazing.
I was designed for worship.
My mouth establishes praise to silence the enemy.
Everywhere I go becomes a perfect health zone.
And...with God
Nothing is impossible!"
So here's to changing our minds...
I'm sitting in Starbucks, trying to be inspired.
My favorite coffee house just had a power outage, so I'm in Starbucks.
Starbucks is fine in Chicago when it's summer and you can sit outside and people-watch, or in New York, where you need your coffee on the way to wherever, and need it in a timely manner. It's also worth planning your cross-country drive around Starbucks, (i.e. civilization): flashback to me in a casino in West Wendover, Nevada, having stayed the night in the $40-per-night-circa-1985-televisionless hotel room, just for the Starbucks in the lobby...that's a story for another day...
Starbucks is fine when you're in a hurry or want to blend in, or when you are driving across Wyoming and are desperate for civilization...and it's probably fine in a foreign country...it's rather like an embassy of sorts.
But in Redding, the coffee culture is very different. Nowhere will you receive a well-crafted cup of coffee in under 5 minutes, except maybe at Brew. Most certainly not at Starbucks. (...believe me, the first time I had to wait for my almond milk cafe au lait, I nearly tore my hair out. I quickly learned-- from vowing never to go back there again-- only to experience the same phenomenon at the next establishment, and the next...and the next, that the pace of life is different here.
It's very slow. And don't even get me started on the driving. No. I'm on a negativity fast. It's only an observation. I am not allowed to rant.
So yes. It's slow. But it's also amaze-balls.
In Redding, though it takes no less than 5 minutes, sometimes 10, I can order single-origin-organic-fair-trade-waterprocessed-decaf-hemp-milk-flat-whites without anyone batting an eye, or saying "...I'm sorry, what milk?"
I also now have a favorite coffee house. It is new, and it has quickly become the see-and-be-seen place, but not as much as the other, older, see-and-be-seen place, where most of my favorite musicians work. (listen here) Or more specifically, are employed; the other day, one of my other favorite singer/songwriters came in to my primary favorite coffee house to work...like write undisturbed, while I tried my best to my best "NBD, your-song-just-changed-my- life" face, and not pee my pants. (listen to that song here).
Anyway, I'm sitting here trying to be inspired, and maybe I am. I am definitely happy, and my favorite place will be open tomorrow, although, if it's 108F for a third day in a row, the power may go out again, and I may have to seek refuge at Starbucks again. We'll see...
My favorite coffee house just had a power outage, so I'm in Starbucks.
Starbucks is fine in Chicago when it's summer and you can sit outside and people-watch, or in New York, where you need your coffee on the way to wherever, and need it in a timely manner. It's also worth planning your cross-country drive around Starbucks, (i.e. civilization): flashback to me in a casino in West Wendover, Nevada, having stayed the night in the $40-per-night-circa-1985-televisionless hotel room, just for the Starbucks in the lobby...that's a story for another day...
Starbucks is fine when you're in a hurry or want to blend in, or when you are driving across Wyoming and are desperate for civilization...and it's probably fine in a foreign country...it's rather like an embassy of sorts.
But in Redding, the coffee culture is very different. Nowhere will you receive a well-crafted cup of coffee in under 5 minutes, except maybe at Brew. Most certainly not at Starbucks. (...believe me, the first time I had to wait for my almond milk cafe au lait, I nearly tore my hair out. I quickly learned-- from vowing never to go back there again-- only to experience the same phenomenon at the next establishment, and the next...and the next, that the pace of life is different here.
It's very slow. And don't even get me started on the driving. No. I'm on a negativity fast. It's only an observation. I am not allowed to rant.
So yes. It's slow. But it's also amaze-balls.
In Redding, though it takes no less than 5 minutes, sometimes 10, I can order single-origin-organic-fair-trade-waterprocessed-decaf-hemp-milk-flat-whites without anyone batting an eye, or saying "...I'm sorry, what milk?"
I also now have a favorite coffee house. It is new, and it has quickly become the see-and-be-seen place, but not as much as the other, older, see-and-be-seen place, where most of my favorite musicians work. (listen here) Or more specifically, are employed; the other day, one of my other favorite singer/songwriters came in to my primary favorite coffee house to work...like write undisturbed, while I tried my best to my best "NBD, your-song-just-changed-my- life" face, and not pee my pants. (listen to that song here).
Anyway, I'm sitting here trying to be inspired, and maybe I am. I am definitely happy, and my favorite place will be open tomorrow, although, if it's 108F for a third day in a row, the power may go out again, and I may have to seek refuge at Starbucks again. We'll see...
Thursday, May 7, 2015
The Porch Light Is Always On...
Today was the last day of my first year at ministry school.
I could write pages about the miracles that led me here, the unexpected difficulties and challenges, the wealth added to my heart from the hearts of new friends, but that will be for another day.
Today, I am writing so that I can look back and remember one of the most personally meaningful things I have ever heard.
This afternoon, as our school's overseer finished his final remarks, he said this:
"By the time I was fifteen, I started not coming home at night. Sometimes a week would go by, where I wouldn't come home.
But I had a mother who loved me, and she always left the porch light on for me. It was a sign that I was always welcome.
And when I would finally come home, she would wrap her arms around me, and no matter what I'd done, she's tell me she loved me.
I want to say to you, when you leave here, should you ever lose your way, the porch light will always be on for you. This House will always be ready, with open arms, to welcome you. This is your home."
I could write pages about the miracles that led me here, the unexpected difficulties and challenges, the wealth added to my heart from the hearts of new friends, but that will be for another day.
Today, I am writing so that I can look back and remember one of the most personally meaningful things I have ever heard.
This afternoon, as our school's overseer finished his final remarks, he said this:
"By the time I was fifteen, I started not coming home at night. Sometimes a week would go by, where I wouldn't come home.
But I had a mother who loved me, and she always left the porch light on for me. It was a sign that I was always welcome.
And when I would finally come home, she would wrap her arms around me, and no matter what I'd done, she's tell me she loved me.
I want to say to you, when you leave here, should you ever lose your way, the porch light will always be on for you. This House will always be ready, with open arms, to welcome you. This is your home."
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Well, then.
So much for weekly updates...
So much to process.
In the past few weeks, so much of what I've learned this year has come into question. Our school does not have "final exams;" however, as Life would have it, as a class, and individually, we have endured a series of tests.
Before I expound further, please know that this blog is my creative expression and the place where I share my process. I spent most of my life trying to be the "good girl" trying to be perfect, in a culture where love and acceptance was something to be earned, where "you just don't talk about those things."
In that culture, many around me were hurt, molested, addicted, bored, depressed, anxious, and full of fear. So I intend to be a culture changer, and if that means letting people in on my process, while I try to figure out a better way to live than what I've just described, so be it.
It is your choice to read what I write. I hope you will read, and if what I write causes you to think new thoughts, wonderful! If you disagree with what I write, that's ok. Just stop reading.
Right. So. Moving on...
One of the core values our school is based on is that God is good. Regardless of were you are on the map of knowing God, please know that is what I believe, because that is how He has revealed Himself to me by all the amazing miracles I've experienced, that's simply what we know, and it's how God reveals Himself in [***gasp***] the Bible, (...to Moses...in Exodus 33:19-34:9...and then again, all over scripture...).
So I'll be real. Two weeks ago, one of my classmates died. We prayed for her, she made a turn around, was about to be released from the hospital and then she died.
One of my classmates miscarried. Another woman connected to our school lost her baby when it was almost full-term...literally a few weeks before it was due. Another woman we prayed for with stage-4 cancer died.
And another...it's a long story, but he's making some really bad choices, and those choices are affecting a large part of our student body.
All this is really tough, especially when we see people healed of cancer and everything else you can think of, every week in the Healing Rooms here at Bethel. Especially when other babies we've prayed for were healed, at the same time others passed away.
Is it God's will to heal some and not others?
No WAY! God is good. All. The. Time.
He is not wrathful and vengeful...He is loving, merciful and kind. But He is also fierce and jealous...as any Lover or Parent would be. If you commit a crime against Love...well, that is just not a good idea.
I will never develop a theology opposite to what I read about God in the Bible. If it says by His stripes, I'm healed, then I'm healed. If the Bible says I'm to lay hands on the sick and they will recover, then I'm going to lay hands on and pray for the sick until they recover.
People laid hands on me. They prayed for me. And guess what?
I recovered.
Did it happen the moment they prayed for me?
Once. And even then, it was a 2 or 3 day process.
I'm walking in the fullness of the answers to prayers people prayed for me when I was a child. I'm walking in answered prayers people prayed when I was teenager in a very dark place. I'm dancing and thriving in a new body that is a miracle, with a mind and heart that are daily being restored.
And you know what? The people who prayed those prayers...some of them will never know about all the amazing things God has done for me years later, as a result of their prayers.
And I'm not going to keep quiet about it. [This is a fun song about that.]
As I let the Light in, I have no choice but to shine... :-)
So much for weekly updates...
So much to process.
In the past few weeks, so much of what I've learned this year has come into question. Our school does not have "final exams;" however, as Life would have it, as a class, and individually, we have endured a series of tests.
Before I expound further, please know that this blog is my creative expression and the place where I share my process. I spent most of my life trying to be the "good girl" trying to be perfect, in a culture where love and acceptance was something to be earned, where "you just don't talk about those things."
In that culture, many around me were hurt, molested, addicted, bored, depressed, anxious, and full of fear. So I intend to be a culture changer, and if that means letting people in on my process, while I try to figure out a better way to live than what I've just described, so be it.
It is your choice to read what I write. I hope you will read, and if what I write causes you to think new thoughts, wonderful! If you disagree with what I write, that's ok. Just stop reading.
Right. So. Moving on...
One of the core values our school is based on is that God is good. Regardless of were you are on the map of knowing God, please know that is what I believe, because that is how He has revealed Himself to me by all the amazing miracles I've experienced, that's simply what we know, and it's how God reveals Himself in [***gasp***] the Bible, (...to Moses...in Exodus 33:19-34:9...and then again, all over scripture...).
So I'll be real. Two weeks ago, one of my classmates died. We prayed for her, she made a turn around, was about to be released from the hospital and then she died.
One of my classmates miscarried. Another woman connected to our school lost her baby when it was almost full-term...literally a few weeks before it was due. Another woman we prayed for with stage-4 cancer died.
And another...it's a long story, but he's making some really bad choices, and those choices are affecting a large part of our student body.
All this is really tough, especially when we see people healed of cancer and everything else you can think of, every week in the Healing Rooms here at Bethel. Especially when other babies we've prayed for were healed, at the same time others passed away.
Is it God's will to heal some and not others?
No WAY! God is good. All. The. Time.
He is not wrathful and vengeful...He is loving, merciful and kind. But He is also fierce and jealous...as any Lover or Parent would be. If you commit a crime against Love...well, that is just not a good idea.
I will never develop a theology opposite to what I read about God in the Bible. If it says by His stripes, I'm healed, then I'm healed. If the Bible says I'm to lay hands on the sick and they will recover, then I'm going to lay hands on and pray for the sick until they recover.
People laid hands on me. They prayed for me. And guess what?
I recovered.
Did it happen the moment they prayed for me?
Once. And even then, it was a 2 or 3 day process.
I'm walking in the fullness of the answers to prayers people prayed for me when I was a child. I'm walking in answered prayers people prayed when I was teenager in a very dark place. I'm dancing and thriving in a new body that is a miracle, with a mind and heart that are daily being restored.
And you know what? The people who prayed those prayers...some of them will never know about all the amazing things God has done for me years later, as a result of their prayers.
And I'm not going to keep quiet about it. [This is a fun song about that.]
As I let the Light in, I have no choice but to shine... :-)
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Wilder-bu 2015, Part 2
If you missed part 1, this may not make much sense. And this is really long, so you might want to grab a snack...
Please read Part 1...you'll want this to make sense. (If you're reading this via email, you can go to my Facebook page and explore the "Notes" section.)
So yes. We stayed in Neverland. We called the lost boys and girls home to the Father...
 |
| Crossing over... |
Amazing. That night, due to some awesome and brave communication by our leader to the head of the place where we were staying, earlier in the day, (...and prayers for an upgrade...), we were upgraded into the retreat center. Still nothing fancy, but we had WALLS and central heat and separate bathrooms and living quarters for boys and girls!
...out of the wilderness, we crossed into our own little promised land!
Ok, so honestly, I have had a very, very, very hard time writing my account of my mission trip, for so many reasons. Please hear my heart.
Can I please be real with y'all for a minute?
I feel really weird saying I went on a ministry trip, and that I'm in ministry school.
Ok. There. I said it.
[More on why in another post...]
Another
reason is that sometimes, harnessing my thoughts and putting them into
words is like herding kittens and teaching them to "sit" and "stay". Or
trying to potty train crocodiles. That thought just came to mind...
ahem...Now back to our regularly scheduled program...
Some still
adhere to very religious mindsets, and that's ok. I love them, too. My
heart is that every one of my work friends, soul sisters and brothers,
blood relatives and BFFs, casual acquaintances, (...and favorite
baristas...), would know they are loved, have a unique destiny, and are
fiercely loved by their Father. (The One in Heaven, Who is as close as
the other side of your last breath...)
...and that they are loved by me.
I have also been ferociously persecuted and
ostracized by religious communities (and people) for loving and
embracing Holy Spirit, and for being a [GASP!]...woman pursuing
"ministry."
[...more on all these thoughts in another post...]
There
are some things that happened on this trip that were deeply personal to
me, and I'm going to do my best to describe them in a way everyone can
understand, without having anyone misunderstand my heart...or worse, be
hurt by my words. So please, if you have any questions or need
clarification on any point, (on anything I've written thus far...),
please message me, and we'll discuss.
So yes. We loved people. And God, in His gentle and sometimes sneaky way, blessed and healed my heart as only He could.
A
lot of the people I encountered on this trip shared some of my same
experiences, and it was amazing to be able to be on the other side of
things and show them that there is hope!
Some explanation is probably in order...
As
a child, I was raised in some fairly legalistic "Christian"
denominations. I was raised with the understanding that I was a terrible
sinner, and that God chose certain people to be saved. I was raised to
believe that women were worth less (...did you get that...worthless...)
than men, and that was all backed up by Scripture, which is of course
the Word of God, and therefore, inerrant and the basis of all Truth and
Wisdom.
This led to me running from, but at the same
time, trying to be perfect and please, an angry God. I knew God was
real, (I had a whole host of medical issues as a child and flat-lined
more than once, and encountered God...if you're curious, perhaps I'll
share more an that...), but I thought He hated me, and had scripture to
prove I was "worth less". I was terribly conflicted.
One
of the fiercest points of contention was that of dance. I knew I was
born to dance. I remember asking Jesus for ballet lessons as a kid
(...sitting on a hay bale, brushing my pet my cow, named Lucibelle...),
then walking in the house, and my mother telling me she and my dad had
enrolled me in ballet lessons as my Christmas present.
But dancing was not allowed in our religious community. If I invited friends over, and we put music on in my room, I would start to dance and they would sit on my bed and stare at me, desperately trying to get me to stop. (...this same scene played out when I lived across the street from a major "Christian" college...I was friends with some students, and we'd have secret dance parties to TobyMac in the dormitory kitchen [cough cough...Houghton Hall...cough cough])
But dancing was not allowed in our religious community. If I invited friends over, and we put music on in my room, I would start to dance and they would sit on my bed and stare at me, desperately trying to get me to stop. (...this same scene played out when I lived across the street from a major "Christian" college...I was friends with some students, and we'd have secret dance parties to TobyMac in the dormitory kitchen [cough cough...Houghton Hall...cough cough])
Ok, so let's fast-forward through all the years of feeling conflicted, suicidal, and scared of God.
I
then met some lovely people who were not religious and who loved Jesus
very much. They introduced me to love without control and a God who was
most definitely not in a box.
[Haha! Fitting. It's Easter weekend. Jesus didn't stay dead..in the box. He's definitely an out-of-the-box kinda God!]
Jesus
also loved women. And dancing. And parties, and compassion, and
left-out people, and children. And the Bible says He's the exact
representation of the Father, Whom the Bible describes as One who is
only capable of giving good gifts.
Ok. Awesome.
So back to my trip.
Since I was a very little girl, (ok...young...I was never really "little"), I have dreamed of living in California. When I would play with my sisters, I would play "college" with them, and we'd be living on-campus at a school in California, and our fridge would be stocked with things California people ate, like sushi, and tofu and beansprouts and hummus...
As a teenager, I wanted to apply to three schools: Pepperdine, USC and UCLA. I was strictly forbidden.
And last week, I was literally SENT to all. Three. Campuses.
[...happy dance...]
Since I was a very little girl, (ok...young...I was never really "little"), I have dreamed of living in California. When I would play with my sisters, I would play "college" with them, and we'd be living on-campus at a school in California, and our fridge would be stocked with things California people ate, like sushi, and tofu and beansprouts and hummus...
As a teenager, I wanted to apply to three schools: Pepperdine, USC and UCLA. I was strictly forbidden.
And last week, I was literally SENT to all. Three. Campuses.
[...happy dance...]
 | |
| dancing is ok... |
And I also got to show them that He likes dancing...even in church and church-related events!
I
also met a bunch of amaze-balls artists and industry people in LA who
LOVE Jesus, but are kind of in the same boat...they know they are
definitely NOT the "in-the-box" sort, and some have trouble really
realizing they could be loved by a God who is often perceived as angry,
stern, distant and...urgh...linear.
So we were able to re-assure them that as artists, they are very close to His heartbeat, because He is Creator, so when we create, we act like Him! And further, we reflect His nature in the world around us and show others what He is like!
So we were able to re-assure them that as artists, they are very close to His heartbeat, because He is Creator, so when we create, we act like Him! And further, we reflect His nature in the world around us and show others what He is like!
[...and I was a guest in a DTLA loft. I have a (locked) Pinterest board dedicated to DTLA lofts. Dream. Come. True.]
We
were also able to spend part of a day with the wonder-full Doug
Addison. He's where it's at, people...such a huge heart of LOVE, and
incredibly wise! (His wife and his team are awesome, too!!!)
He taught us for several hours about dream interpretation and tattoo reading, and then led us on an adventure on Venice Beach, interpreting people's tattoos and dreams. We got to bring so much hope, joy, peace and love to people...it was SO amazing!!! (For those of you wondering, I did not interpret any tattoos on the man wearing a metallic thong and a live boa constrictor.)
He taught us for several hours about dream interpretation and tattoo reading, and then led us on an adventure on Venice Beach, interpreting people's tattoos and dreams. We got to bring so much hope, joy, peace and love to people...it was SO amazing!!! (For those of you wondering, I did not interpret any tattoos on the man wearing a metallic thong and a live boa constrictor.)
We closed
our trip by ministering to the couple who had been overseeing our part
of the campground during or Wilder-bu saga. They were familiar with
Bethel and it was such an honor to speak life, encouragement, hope to
them! They truly amazing people!
And my team. My everlasting Wilder-bu'15 family. Epic people. Each one of them is a planet-shaking world changer.
(...and they are a forgiving lot.
I made some less than powerful choices, when, after days of being an introvert surrounded by people 24/7, living outdoors, and being under-caffeinated and overstimulated, I gave every evil Disney queen a run for her money and chose to let some choice words fly, and curl up into a ball, blaring Jay-Z on my headphones.
They extended peace to me, and loved me back into the realm of the living. They rock.
And from them I learned, again, that I am loved even when I make less-than-stellar choices.)
(...and they are a forgiving lot.
I made some less than powerful choices, when, after days of being an introvert surrounded by people 24/7, living outdoors, and being under-caffeinated and overstimulated, I gave every evil Disney queen a run for her money and chose to let some choice words fly, and curl up into a ball, blaring Jay-Z on my headphones.
They extended peace to me, and loved me back into the realm of the living. They rock.
And from them I learned, again, that I am loved even when I make less-than-stellar choices.)
 |
| Wilder-bu '15 Family (...minus Anders, the epic photographer) |
Malibu 2015, Part 1
Hey, Family!
Where
to begin? This year has passed so quickly, and my life has changed so
much! It's hard to believe that in six weeks, my first year of BSSM will
come to a close, but it's not at all a closing, but the door to a new
beginning.Refusing to be ruffled, I asked a very kind couple in my Revival Group at school if I could borrow a sleeping bag. They had several, with varying measures of warmth, and when I explained I sleep under a down comforter in 90-degree Chicago summers with 100% humidity and no air conditioning, they lent me the warmest one.
Right.
Um...so...I
wasn't feeling...or looking...very honoring, but we banded together and
made the best of it. (Thank You, Jesus, for my wonderful team!) But
there were no mirrors to get ready, we had very few electrical outlets,
most of us hadn't slept much for days, and the nights in Malibu are
around 35 degrees. Our leaders had not been told we'd be staying in
these sorts of accommodations, so no one (but me!), was prepared for
such extreme temperatures, AND during the day, we were gone from 9 in
the morning to almost midnight, ministering mostly to people in the
entertainment industry, in churches and universities in Malibu, Beverly
Hills and Studio City. We certainly couldn't show up looking...and
smelling... like we were staying in the woods!
[On another note: In the weeks leading up to my trip, I started seeing references to Peter Pan EVERYWHERE...art shows in local coffee houses, placards advertising a local school musical, the new movie remake. At the same time, I asked several people what we should be praying for in preparation for our trip, and what we should be praying for the people we'd be ministering to.
Repeatedly, I was told that people in LA are lonely, and operate as orphans: independent, self-sufficient, in survival mode and without a sense of belonging or being loved.
As the campground supervisors dropped us off in the wilderness, they told us they called that area "Neverland." And then I knew...it was prophetic! We needed to call and pray all the lost boys and girls home!]
Stay
tuned for part 2, featuring Azuza Street, upgrades, The Giving Keys,
Judah Smith, UCLA, Paddle Boarding in Malibu and Grammys in the living
room!
Love and hugs,
AmieA Beautiful Testimony...
Every day in school we hear awesome testimonies of people's lives being changed. This story was shared this afternoon...
The curriculum from my school is being taught in several maximum security prisons in the United States. Today during class, one of our leaders read a letter from a man whose brother is in one such course.
The letter was written by a man named "Johnny"... (all names have been changed to protect identities). Johnny and his brother are both serving time in prison for murder, in separate correctional facilities, about 100 miles apart. Johnny admits to murdering a man in a gang-related crime, and to stabbing several men while in prison, also in gang-related altercations. He also admits to having engaged in satanic worship while in prison.
On a recent occasion, Johnny was given permission to visit his brother, who is now a follower of Jesus, and is enrolled in the BSSM program at his correctional facility. During the visit with his brother, Johnny also gave his life to Jesus!
His brother told a few people on the outside, one of them sent a copy of Supernatural Ways of Royalty, (one of the books written by our school's founder, Kris Vallotton, and which is part of our core curriculum), to Johnny, when he returned "home" to his respective prison. The book never arrived, so she sent another. Both books ended up arriving the same day; around that same time, Johnny's location in the prison changed.
Johnny decided to see if anyone in his new cell block would share the second book and study with him. He found a man named "Gary", who seemed vaguely interested in studying with him, but was rather rude and sullen. He finally agreed to study with Johnny, and confided in him that he had given his life to Jesus, but was having some internal conflict because his brother had been murdered, and he had sworn himself to avenging his brother's death, by killing the man who murdered his brother.
"Gary" was soon released on parole, and left a note for Johnny. In the note, he explained that Johnny was the man who murdered his brother. Having seen how completely changed Johnny's life was as a result of receiving Jesus' love, Gary decided to emulate Jesus, and forgive Johnny. He not only forgave him, but called off the hit on Johnny's life.
Johnny then finally realized the depth to which he had been forgiven, by both God and people, and finally forgave himself.
I almost cried when I heard this story. The grace, goodness and kindness of Jesus, and His power to radically change lives, never ceases to amaze me!
The curriculum from my school is being taught in several maximum security prisons in the United States. Today during class, one of our leaders read a letter from a man whose brother is in one such course.
The letter was written by a man named "Johnny"... (all names have been changed to protect identities). Johnny and his brother are both serving time in prison for murder, in separate correctional facilities, about 100 miles apart. Johnny admits to murdering a man in a gang-related crime, and to stabbing several men while in prison, also in gang-related altercations. He also admits to having engaged in satanic worship while in prison.
On a recent occasion, Johnny was given permission to visit his brother, who is now a follower of Jesus, and is enrolled in the BSSM program at his correctional facility. During the visit with his brother, Johnny also gave his life to Jesus!
His brother told a few people on the outside, one of them sent a copy of Supernatural Ways of Royalty, (one of the books written by our school's founder, Kris Vallotton, and which is part of our core curriculum), to Johnny, when he returned "home" to his respective prison. The book never arrived, so she sent another. Both books ended up arriving the same day; around that same time, Johnny's location in the prison changed.
Johnny decided to see if anyone in his new cell block would share the second book and study with him. He found a man named "Gary", who seemed vaguely interested in studying with him, but was rather rude and sullen. He finally agreed to study with Johnny, and confided in him that he had given his life to Jesus, but was having some internal conflict because his brother had been murdered, and he had sworn himself to avenging his brother's death, by killing the man who murdered his brother.
"Gary" was soon released on parole, and left a note for Johnny. In the note, he explained that Johnny was the man who murdered his brother. Having seen how completely changed Johnny's life was as a result of receiving Jesus' love, Gary decided to emulate Jesus, and forgive Johnny. He not only forgave him, but called off the hit on Johnny's life.
Johnny then finally realized the depth to which he had been forgiven, by both God and people, and finally forgave himself.
I almost cried when I heard this story. The grace, goodness and kindness of Jesus, and His power to radically change lives, never ceases to amaze me!
How Big Are You Willing To Dream...?
I wrote this note two days after Christmas and never published it. I thought today would be a good day to do so...
"How big are you willing to dream?"
That is the question I keep hearing in my subconscious today.
So I think about it and write it down and pray.
"That's not big enough."
Funny. A year ago, if I had dared to dream, I would have immediately stopped myself and told myself I don't deserve to dream.
If you're telling yourself that today, please stop.
The dreams you have in your heart were put there to bring light to this world, to bring hope and joy and love to others and into your own life. So dream, dream some more and dream bigger dreams.
[Steps down off soapbox.]
Ok. So now for some updates.
"I feel like the past three months have been like an open heart surgery every day, and the doctor isn't done...He just lets me walk around with my chest open and my heart exposed..."
Yes. Precisely.
These were words from a new friend spoken at the dinner table on Christmas Eve. We were discussing our experiences at school. I have had no words for what's happening, except to say it feels like I'm constantly being forced to do myofascial release, and my insides feel bruised. (If you've ever had Graston or ART manual therapy, that's what it feels like to be in school at BSSM...every day.)
Or as my friend says, you're to show up at school with a hole in your chest whilst your heart gets worked on, and you're still expected to be social and work and do your homework on time.
Character building.
And it's all a choice. Every day, it is a choice to respond in this way to what we are learning. We totally have the choice to simply show up and warm the chair...or not. To read the books and do the assignments...or not. We are on an honor system here. But why sacrifice so much and not be willing to do the work? Why not grow your faith and believe it will all be worth it in the end?
So aside from the fact that it feels like I'm having my insides ripped out and re-arranged every day, there are a few more things that I'm learning.
Paul Manwaring, one of fathers in our school just did an 8-minute podcast that brilliantly articulates what the first three months of school were about for us. The link is on my page. Make some tea and have a listen. Amazing. It explains the importance of seeing yourself as a son or daughter, in relation to God as a Father. That concept used to either bewilder me or make me cringe. Now it makes so much sense.
During the last three months, I've just gone for it. I've auditioned for everything I could, volunteered for every event my schedule would permit, and joined with friends in creating our own opportunities to work, learn and serve the less fortunate.
I have been rejected at auditions, been chosen for school trips to places I told God I wanted to end up eventually (...in my wildest dreams!!!), been chosen for the Creativity Track at school, and chosen to serve Redding's women, young and old in the area of fashion and beauty.I have prayed for children with cancer, and for their aching parents. I have danced with some really talented men and women every week. I have had so much fun handing out Christmas cards, cookies, gifts and hugs to those without a home.
I am learning to walk out forgiveness and live in healthy relationship with others. I am learning to teach others to do the same. I am learning my identity and worth. I am learning who I am created to be. I am learning that we cannot do life alone, or achieve our dreams while maintaining our independence.
I am being knitted together into an international family of people who are passionate about changing the world, and together, we are already doing it. We are being cheerful in our work, joyful as we walk down the street. We are singing in retirement homes and mentoring youth. We are dancing at raves and dancing in the street, releasing joy and hope wherever we go. We are learning how to love ourselves well so we can love others well. We are learning leadership techniques to be successful husbands and wives, pastors, chefs, garbage collectors, actors, models, grandparents, or people feeding orphans in the African bush.
People ask me constantly...are you going to preach? What are you going to do after you're done here? What do you want out of this experience?
Am I learning to preach? Yes. Is that ok? The Bible says it is. So you want to start a church and proselytize? Maybe and absolutely NOT.
Now that we have that cleared up, here's what I've decided. I definitely have a framework for how I'd like to see the next two years or so play out.
I have heard that first year year is like building a new foundation, or tearing out all the faulty wiring and repairing the foundation of your beliefs, identity, etc.; and that second year is building, or re-building the house. So I definitely know I need to do second year. You have to be recommended by your Revival Group Pastor, apply and then be accepted. Usually half the number of first-year students make it, or choose to go on to second year. I've been recommended, and have applied...and am waiting to hear...
I've said before that I feel like a fish, who all it's life has been judged for it's ability to climb trees, and has finally found water. I think a better picture would be of a bird, who all it's life was tethered to a branch. A bird who knew it was born to fly, and did just that...within reason. Now the tether has been cut, and I'm learning that the sky is the limit...
"How big are you willing to dream?"
That is the question I keep hearing in my subconscious today.
So I think about it and write it down and pray.
"That's not big enough."
Funny. A year ago, if I had dared to dream, I would have immediately stopped myself and told myself I don't deserve to dream.
If you're telling yourself that today, please stop.
The dreams you have in your heart were put there to bring light to this world, to bring hope and joy and love to others and into your own life. So dream, dream some more and dream bigger dreams.
[Steps down off soapbox.]
Ok. So now for some updates.
"I feel like the past three months have been like an open heart surgery every day, and the doctor isn't done...He just lets me walk around with my chest open and my heart exposed..."
Yes. Precisely.
These were words from a new friend spoken at the dinner table on Christmas Eve. We were discussing our experiences at school. I have had no words for what's happening, except to say it feels like I'm constantly being forced to do myofascial release, and my insides feel bruised. (If you've ever had Graston or ART manual therapy, that's what it feels like to be in school at BSSM...every day.)
Or as my friend says, you're to show up at school with a hole in your chest whilst your heart gets worked on, and you're still expected to be social and work and do your homework on time.
Character building.
And it's all a choice. Every day, it is a choice to respond in this way to what we are learning. We totally have the choice to simply show up and warm the chair...or not. To read the books and do the assignments...or not. We are on an honor system here. But why sacrifice so much and not be willing to do the work? Why not grow your faith and believe it will all be worth it in the end?
So aside from the fact that it feels like I'm having my insides ripped out and re-arranged every day, there are a few more things that I'm learning.
Paul Manwaring, one of fathers in our school just did an 8-minute podcast that brilliantly articulates what the first three months of school were about for us. The link is on my page. Make some tea and have a listen. Amazing. It explains the importance of seeing yourself as a son or daughter, in relation to God as a Father. That concept used to either bewilder me or make me cringe. Now it makes so much sense.
During the last three months, I've just gone for it. I've auditioned for everything I could, volunteered for every event my schedule would permit, and joined with friends in creating our own opportunities to work, learn and serve the less fortunate.
I have been rejected at auditions, been chosen for school trips to places I told God I wanted to end up eventually (...in my wildest dreams!!!), been chosen for the Creativity Track at school, and chosen to serve Redding's women, young and old in the area of fashion and beauty.I have prayed for children with cancer, and for their aching parents. I have danced with some really talented men and women every week. I have had so much fun handing out Christmas cards, cookies, gifts and hugs to those without a home.
I am learning to walk out forgiveness and live in healthy relationship with others. I am learning to teach others to do the same. I am learning my identity and worth. I am learning who I am created to be. I am learning that we cannot do life alone, or achieve our dreams while maintaining our independence.
I am being knitted together into an international family of people who are passionate about changing the world, and together, we are already doing it. We are being cheerful in our work, joyful as we walk down the street. We are singing in retirement homes and mentoring youth. We are dancing at raves and dancing in the street, releasing joy and hope wherever we go. We are learning how to love ourselves well so we can love others well. We are learning leadership techniques to be successful husbands and wives, pastors, chefs, garbage collectors, actors, models, grandparents, or people feeding orphans in the African bush.
People ask me constantly...are you going to preach? What are you going to do after you're done here? What do you want out of this experience?
Am I learning to preach? Yes. Is that ok? The Bible says it is. So you want to start a church and proselytize? Maybe and absolutely NOT.
Now that we have that cleared up, here's what I've decided. I definitely have a framework for how I'd like to see the next two years or so play out.
I have heard that first year year is like building a new foundation, or tearing out all the faulty wiring and repairing the foundation of your beliefs, identity, etc.; and that second year is building, or re-building the house. So I definitely know I need to do second year. You have to be recommended by your Revival Group Pastor, apply and then be accepted. Usually half the number of first-year students make it, or choose to go on to second year. I've been recommended, and have applied...and am waiting to hear...
I've said before that I feel like a fish, who all it's life has been judged for it's ability to climb trees, and has finally found water. I think a better picture would be of a bird, who all it's life was tethered to a branch. A bird who knew it was born to fly, and did just that...within reason. Now the tether has been cut, and I'm learning that the sky is the limit...
Greetings from the land of the "Mun"...
Just as the title says, Greetings, from the land of the "mun", or Man-Bun.
And the Ford F-250 with a lift kit. And the hemp milk latte. And lotsandlotsandlotsandlots of flannel.
As much as I miss the 24-hour access to pho and Starbucks, inherent sarcasm of fellow city dwellers, and urban-warrior mentality that comes from living in one of the best cities on the planet, (Chicago, of course), I think my heart may have found a new home...at least for now.
I finally feel like I'm standing on solid ground; I feel like a fish who has been judged my whole life for it's ability to climb trees and ride bicycles, and has finally found water. And I do love myself a Man-Bun, let's be real...and the ensuing nose piercing which it usually accompanies.
So, yes, HALLELUJAH!
I've spent my day having my mind blown by beautiful friends, Bill Johnson and a well-known song-writer/composer...that last bit sort of by accident.
Every day of school is cram-packed with so many life changing themes and messages. So what did I learn today?
How to express ME through movement, how to make human, moving sculpture in choreography, and Jesus likes when I express the fullness of ME to Him, because I'm His expression of creativity.
That judgement and justice are necessary, but I should never be identified as an accuser, and by what I am against. That I am to be for people, even when their behavior is disappointing. When there are consequences for their wrong behavior, I am to fully understand that the consequences and judgement were necessary, and stand with them, protecting their dignity as they walk through those consequences.
I also learned something about the belief systems of the founders of my school, which I thought might be interesting to share.
Four Pillars of Belief
1.) God is good.
2.) Everything was accomplished at Calvary.
3.) Nothing is impossible.
4.) I am [you and we are] significant.
Four Pillars of Bethel Culture
1.) Dream big.
2.) Trust God.
3.) Take risk.
4.) Serve well.
I also learned that if my dream is so big that only God and I can accomplish it...then it's not big enough. We need to be operating in community in order to dream big enough...we cannot dream big in isolation.
Awesome.
And the Ford F-250 with a lift kit. And the hemp milk latte. And lotsandlotsandlotsandlots of flannel.
As much as I miss the 24-hour access to pho and Starbucks, inherent sarcasm of fellow city dwellers, and urban-warrior mentality that comes from living in one of the best cities on the planet, (Chicago, of course), I think my heart may have found a new home...at least for now.
I finally feel like I'm standing on solid ground; I feel like a fish who has been judged my whole life for it's ability to climb trees and ride bicycles, and has finally found water. And I do love myself a Man-Bun, let's be real...and the ensuing nose piercing which it usually accompanies.
So, yes, HALLELUJAH!
I've spent my day having my mind blown by beautiful friends, Bill Johnson and a well-known song-writer/composer...that last bit sort of by accident.
Every day of school is cram-packed with so many life changing themes and messages. So what did I learn today?
How to express ME through movement, how to make human, moving sculpture in choreography, and Jesus likes when I express the fullness of ME to Him, because I'm His expression of creativity.
That judgement and justice are necessary, but I should never be identified as an accuser, and by what I am against. That I am to be for people, even when their behavior is disappointing. When there are consequences for their wrong behavior, I am to fully understand that the consequences and judgement were necessary, and stand with them, protecting their dignity as they walk through those consequences.
I also learned something about the belief systems of the founders of my school, which I thought might be interesting to share.
Four Pillars of Belief
1.) God is good.
2.) Everything was accomplished at Calvary.
3.) Nothing is impossible.
4.) I am [you and we are] significant.
Four Pillars of Bethel Culture
1.) Dream big.
2.) Trust God.
3.) Take risk.
4.) Serve well.
I also learned that if my dream is so big that only God and I can accomplish it...then it's not big enough. We need to be operating in community in order to dream big enough...we cannot dream big in isolation.
Awesome.
Well then.
It's about time I posted an update on my adventures here in, (...at the moment, quite drizzly) California!
It's also high time I posted a proper "Thank you!" to those who have been supporting me through gifts, surprises, prayers, happy thoughts and encouraging words.
How do you properly thank people who have come alongside you and helped usher you into the first steps of finally reaching your destiny? I'm sure it's possible, but in order to do so, I might need to develop a new lexicon of superlatives. At this point in recent days, I have often simply resorted to dancing out what I'm trying to say. I've been that happy and blessed.
Everything happens so fast here. Four days out of the week, for most of the day, I have my mind pounded full of the most amazing, life-changing information and then am immediately activated and challenged to practice what I've been taught. And then there is like two hours of homework, and group meetings, and volunteer opportunities and personal project time. (...and if you're anything like me, you leave it all until a partial day off like today...)
What I'm learning most is that God is good and in a good mood. I realize now that He's not looking at me in disappointment. WHAT?!?! I know. I KNOW, right?
He loves me in my mess and is extending a hand to help me out of it. Rock on.
I'm also realizing that it is okay to have questions and live with mystery. Several people around me have lost parents and children in the past few weeks, (or years), some to diseases we see God heal here on a regular basis. If God is good and these were good people, why would He let that happen? Why would a good God allow things that happened to me, happen to me? Why would He radically bless some with a healing miracle or financial provision, and others not?
These are the questions I, and we as a class of leaders-in-training tackle every day, not just in class, but in our daily lives.
Here are some things I've learned as I've pondered these questions:
Be thankful for what you have today. Many of us at BSSM are experiencing extreme financial strain and hardship. Some are living in trailers without electricity and running water; some are looking for work in a town with no industry and a saturated job market, and simply not finding it. At times, circumstances can seem absolutely overwhelming and completely overshadow the awesomeness we are being presented with every day.
So I've learned to be thankful. Because in the midst of the strain and hardship, miracles are springing up out of nowhere. Like for the friend who had nothing left and a friend came to her door with $1000. Like me, who had no idea where rent was coming from and 2 hours later, someone called with the solution to my dilemma. I'm also coming to terms with the fact that God is mysterious and it's fun to ask questions and have some answered and some not, but to keep exploring.
I've also learned that Redding takes money from the state to re-settle people who have been newly released from prison, namely sex offenders. Not one person in our class has been harmed! In spite of a friend's car having been randomly shot at, and another's vandalized, we're all okay. And it kind of reminds me of living in Chicago...without direct access to the Louboutin boutique, of course. So I'm thankful for that...minus the Louboutin part...
Before you get bored and go back to the news feed, here is the other thing I'm learning. (...and for me this is important, though it has probably already occurred to you...)
We need each other.
Along with so many others, I grew up very independently, rather isolated, always looking out for myself. Though I learned very useful things from those experiences, I've also learned that I need to reshape the way I think about community. Community is absolutely essential for reaching one's destiny and true calling in life. It's also just much more fun (...and stretching, in the best possible way), to live in community than outside or without it.
I'm so thankful to be in the midst of a wonderful family here in Redding-- my RG, my small group, my roommate, my soon-to-be travel teams, my fellow track members. It is an absolute delight and privilege to be invited into the process of helping them as they are in process and I am daily blown away by the way each of them carries something I need...a piece to the puzzle of my life wherein I only saw a gap, and never dreamed it needed to be filled by anything, if that makes any sense...
So do I miss Chicago and all of my wonderful friends and family in all places of the earth? YES!!! And this experience is highlighting for me even more so, that you are all so precious. (...look that word up...it has a lot of nuances and I quite like it!)
Thank you all for believing in me and helping me to come to this place.
You are awesome.
Cheers and a hug!
It's about time I posted an update on my adventures here in, (...at the moment, quite drizzly) California!
It's also high time I posted a proper "Thank you!" to those who have been supporting me through gifts, surprises, prayers, happy thoughts and encouraging words.
How do you properly thank people who have come alongside you and helped usher you into the first steps of finally reaching your destiny? I'm sure it's possible, but in order to do so, I might need to develop a new lexicon of superlatives. At this point in recent days, I have often simply resorted to dancing out what I'm trying to say. I've been that happy and blessed.
Everything happens so fast here. Four days out of the week, for most of the day, I have my mind pounded full of the most amazing, life-changing information and then am immediately activated and challenged to practice what I've been taught. And then there is like two hours of homework, and group meetings, and volunteer opportunities and personal project time. (...and if you're anything like me, you leave it all until a partial day off like today...)
What I'm learning most is that God is good and in a good mood. I realize now that He's not looking at me in disappointment. WHAT?!?! I know. I KNOW, right?
He loves me in my mess and is extending a hand to help me out of it. Rock on.
I'm also realizing that it is okay to have questions and live with mystery. Several people around me have lost parents and children in the past few weeks, (or years), some to diseases we see God heal here on a regular basis. If God is good and these were good people, why would He let that happen? Why would a good God allow things that happened to me, happen to me? Why would He radically bless some with a healing miracle or financial provision, and others not?
These are the questions I, and we as a class of leaders-in-training tackle every day, not just in class, but in our daily lives.
Here are some things I've learned as I've pondered these questions:
Be thankful for what you have today. Many of us at BSSM are experiencing extreme financial strain and hardship. Some are living in trailers without electricity and running water; some are looking for work in a town with no industry and a saturated job market, and simply not finding it. At times, circumstances can seem absolutely overwhelming and completely overshadow the awesomeness we are being presented with every day.
So I've learned to be thankful. Because in the midst of the strain and hardship, miracles are springing up out of nowhere. Like for the friend who had nothing left and a friend came to her door with $1000. Like me, who had no idea where rent was coming from and 2 hours later, someone called with the solution to my dilemma. I'm also coming to terms with the fact that God is mysterious and it's fun to ask questions and have some answered and some not, but to keep exploring.
I've also learned that Redding takes money from the state to re-settle people who have been newly released from prison, namely sex offenders. Not one person in our class has been harmed! In spite of a friend's car having been randomly shot at, and another's vandalized, we're all okay. And it kind of reminds me of living in Chicago...without direct access to the Louboutin boutique, of course. So I'm thankful for that...minus the Louboutin part...
Before you get bored and go back to the news feed, here is the other thing I'm learning. (...and for me this is important, though it has probably already occurred to you...)
We need each other.
Along with so many others, I grew up very independently, rather isolated, always looking out for myself. Though I learned very useful things from those experiences, I've also learned that I need to reshape the way I think about community. Community is absolutely essential for reaching one's destiny and true calling in life. It's also just much more fun (...and stretching, in the best possible way), to live in community than outside or without it.
I'm so thankful to be in the midst of a wonderful family here in Redding-- my RG, my small group, my roommate, my soon-to-be travel teams, my fellow track members. It is an absolute delight and privilege to be invited into the process of helping them as they are in process and I am daily blown away by the way each of them carries something I need...a piece to the puzzle of my life wherein I only saw a gap, and never dreamed it needed to be filled by anything, if that makes any sense...
So do I miss Chicago and all of my wonderful friends and family in all places of the earth? YES!!! And this experience is highlighting for me even more so, that you are all so precious. (...look that word up...it has a lot of nuances and I quite like it!)
Thank you all for believing in me and helping me to come to this place.
You are awesome.
Cheers and a hug!
Eyebrows...
The original title of this post was "eyebrows and jihad." If you're
reading this and I kept it as such, know that there was some inner
debate.
So this morning, I was looking intently into the mirror and doing my best to deal my eyebrows, and keep the wonderful shape created for me years ago by dear Noor, on her living room floor. (...fret not, fair friends. I was NOT attempting to thread my own brows, as I did a few years back. For those of you who are unaware that I followed a YouTube tutorial whilst trying to thread my own eyebrows, it did indeed happen, and yes, I managed to tear a nice chunk of skin off my eyelid. Pinterest. YouTube. There is a theme of bloodletting here. Perhaps I should stay away from do-it-yourself projects...)
Anyway, it reminded me of a personal story (or two) I thought I'd share...
Noor was my neighbor when I lived in the Albany Park neighborhood of Chicago. One of my roommates at the time spoke Arabic and helped to settle refugees in our neighborhood. Most of them were from Iraq, but some were from the Sudan, Afghanistan, and other places. One of the people whom she'd helped to settle was Noor, who lived in the building next to ours. She was born and married in Afghanistan and then lived in India for over 20 years. Though she was probably only about 15 years older than me at the time, life had not been kind to her, and aside from her brilliant smile (with a gap or two) and curious eyes, she was most definitely weathered.
As it turns out, she was a forced laborer, (i.e. slave) at a salon, and her name was a disgrace. I hesitate to write this, lest I get her in trouble, and I want to change her name, but I want to highlight a few things with this story. (This is not a rant. I am merely providing you with information...)
First, her state of employ. She and her husband had come to America for a better life, and to increase their earning potential, so as to care for aging parents in other parts of the world. She worked at a salon on Devon and threaded brows for $5 per appointment. As it turned out, the salon owner would keep half her wages, AND her tips. So she was forced to work 6 to 7 days per week, in 10-12 hour shifts, and was threatened with being let go or turned into the authorities for failure to pay taxes, if she missed a day, tried to hide her tips or complained.
(I think of her quite a lot and regret not having done more for her. Perhaps you all will have some ideas of what to do about the plight of people like Noor...)
According to my roommate, this type of forced labor was quite common among the refugees she helped to settle. Most of them had skills like braiding, weaving, threading, and could easily find employment in the cheaper salons. Most had little proficiency in English--there were free classes available, but no time to attend them, since caring for parents and multiple children is costly. Also, since the husbands income usually went toward paying for his parents and other wives...more on that in a moment-- and because usually their other option was to work the night shift for minimum wage cleaning toilets at one of the airports, making people feel beautiful had a greater payoff, even if it meant working in fear.
Yes. Right. Now for names and other wives.
I learned from my roommate that in Muslim culture, in some countries, when a woman has a child, she is no longer known by her birth name, but by a term in Arabic meaning "Mother of...child's name." If you are not "Mother of..." it meant you were unable to have children. Perpetual disgrace in said culture, and always the woman's fault...or considered a curse, meaning you were ostracized. Further, if you were known as "Mother-of- [insert girl's name]" you were looked down upon, and expected to keep having children until you became "Mother-of-a-boy's-name"...
Right. So Noor was one of the lucky ones. Because "she" was unable to have children, it was grounds for her husband to divorce her, which he did not, nor did he beat her, which I learned was common practice. Nor did she have to live with his mother, who would have beaten her, too...also common practice. (...again, not a rant, just sharing what I learned in her living room whilst having my brows threaded...by a professional...)
Now for the other wives part...should it be part 2 tomorrow? That's where my story comes in...(-: Someone was groomed to be a second wife...yep. Me.
Stay tuned! <3
So this morning, I was looking intently into the mirror and doing my best to deal my eyebrows, and keep the wonderful shape created for me years ago by dear Noor, on her living room floor. (...fret not, fair friends. I was NOT attempting to thread my own brows, as I did a few years back. For those of you who are unaware that I followed a YouTube tutorial whilst trying to thread my own eyebrows, it did indeed happen, and yes, I managed to tear a nice chunk of skin off my eyelid. Pinterest. YouTube. There is a theme of bloodletting here. Perhaps I should stay away from do-it-yourself projects...)
Anyway, it reminded me of a personal story (or two) I thought I'd share...
Noor was my neighbor when I lived in the Albany Park neighborhood of Chicago. One of my roommates at the time spoke Arabic and helped to settle refugees in our neighborhood. Most of them were from Iraq, but some were from the Sudan, Afghanistan, and other places. One of the people whom she'd helped to settle was Noor, who lived in the building next to ours. She was born and married in Afghanistan and then lived in India for over 20 years. Though she was probably only about 15 years older than me at the time, life had not been kind to her, and aside from her brilliant smile (with a gap or two) and curious eyes, she was most definitely weathered.
As it turns out, she was a forced laborer, (i.e. slave) at a salon, and her name was a disgrace. I hesitate to write this, lest I get her in trouble, and I want to change her name, but I want to highlight a few things with this story. (This is not a rant. I am merely providing you with information...)
First, her state of employ. She and her husband had come to America for a better life, and to increase their earning potential, so as to care for aging parents in other parts of the world. She worked at a salon on Devon and threaded brows for $5 per appointment. As it turned out, the salon owner would keep half her wages, AND her tips. So she was forced to work 6 to 7 days per week, in 10-12 hour shifts, and was threatened with being let go or turned into the authorities for failure to pay taxes, if she missed a day, tried to hide her tips or complained.
(I think of her quite a lot and regret not having done more for her. Perhaps you all will have some ideas of what to do about the plight of people like Noor...)
According to my roommate, this type of forced labor was quite common among the refugees she helped to settle. Most of them had skills like braiding, weaving, threading, and could easily find employment in the cheaper salons. Most had little proficiency in English--there were free classes available, but no time to attend them, since caring for parents and multiple children is costly. Also, since the husbands income usually went toward paying for his parents and other wives...more on that in a moment-- and because usually their other option was to work the night shift for minimum wage cleaning toilets at one of the airports, making people feel beautiful had a greater payoff, even if it meant working in fear.
Yes. Right. Now for names and other wives.
I learned from my roommate that in Muslim culture, in some countries, when a woman has a child, she is no longer known by her birth name, but by a term in Arabic meaning "Mother of...child's name." If you are not "Mother of..." it meant you were unable to have children. Perpetual disgrace in said culture, and always the woman's fault...or considered a curse, meaning you were ostracized. Further, if you were known as "Mother-of- [insert girl's name]" you were looked down upon, and expected to keep having children until you became "Mother-of-a-boy's-name"...
Right. So Noor was one of the lucky ones. Because "she" was unable to have children, it was grounds for her husband to divorce her, which he did not, nor did he beat her, which I learned was common practice. Nor did she have to live with his mother, who would have beaten her, too...also common practice. (...again, not a rant, just sharing what I learned in her living room whilst having my brows threaded...by a professional...)
Now for the other wives part...should it be part 2 tomorrow? That's where my story comes in...(-: Someone was groomed to be a second wife...yep. Me.
Stay tuned! <3
What's Going On?
Hello, Lovlies!
For those of you tuning in for more on my wild, west coast adventures, here are some highlights:
It is still very hot. I love hot. As a child, it was my dream to live in California and have a palm tree as a Christmas tree, and to have it be 100 degrees every day. I've now had both those dreams come true, though not at the same time...yet...(-:
I learned that the place I live in California is hemmed in by mountains on three sides. That being the case, in winter, one must plan travel well, as going north, east, or west, entails traveling up in elevation. This means one will encounter snow...a great deal of snow. Thus, there is always the possibility of one's trip turning into a scene from "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" (...cue music...), even if one only plans to travel ten miles.
For those addicted to Pinterest, I have a lovely outdoor space outside my kitchen, suitable for projects that are flammable or require the use of crafting products having toxic fumes. Because the weather here is awesome, I can use said space year-round. However, since my last Pinterest project entailed stabbing myself with a dull knife, with ensuing projectile bleeding from my hand, I'm not sure it would be a good idea for me to use it for such purposes. Perhaps I shall just sit quietly and enjoy my view... of the parking lot. (-:
Our neighbors do a lot of marijuana, though not in a glaringly obvious fashion. Most of my neighbors in the past few years have taken such recreational liberties, though much more obviously. Should you visit me, be advised that the exhaust fan in the guest bathroom switches on with light, and you will experience quite intense second-hand smoke. (Use caution during prolonged showers...)
Prolonged showers should not be an issue, as there is water rationing here...
I've been driving around thinking that there may actually have been a zombie apocalypse, since there are so few cars on the road...even at "rush hour" (?)
I have interviewed for several jobs. The interviewers seem quite scared of me when I say I'm from Chicago, and I'm not quite sure why. They take a step back and ask how I like it here, and ask why I'm here. Then most say: "...oh, are you with that school at Bethel?" At which point, one several things may happen:
1.) They ask to hug me and say something to the effect of: "...how nice...there are so many lovely people from there..." [Yay, I think?]
2.) Ask if I am single and ask to take my picture so they can send it to "...a nice boy who works here and also went to your school..." [Seriously?!]
3.) Look like they've just ingested foamy, room-temperature wedding punch...
I am thankful that I do not have to experience rush hour (or 5:30a.m.) on the Red Line. I've had enough of strangers touching me to last ten lifetimes.
I am thankful for all of the above, because it is hot here. (I LOVE HOT WEATHER!!!)
I am thankful that this week, someone offered to text me pictures of dirty snow, should I become "homesick"...(bless you!)
I am thankful that my roommate and I have discovered that we have the same random celebrity crush (Travis Fimmel), and also have a deep and abiding affection for the music of Maroon 5...(insert dance party in kitchen).
I am thankful that before I left, the awesome person who does my hair, you're probably reading this...do you want to remain anonymous?...taught me how to do an at-home ombre. I am thankful that though there is no Sephora or Ulta for about 50 miles, there is a Sally's, so I can drive there and pick up to tools with which to bleach my own hair.
I know, I know. It involves toxic chemicals. If I'm alive to post about it tomorrow, I shall.
I also heard a great quote yesterday: "This is not a rant. I am simply providing you all with information." Information is good, and it helps us make informed choices. More on that and hair adventures in the next post...
Cheers and a hug!
For those of you tuning in for more on my wild, west coast adventures, here are some highlights:
It is still very hot. I love hot. As a child, it was my dream to live in California and have a palm tree as a Christmas tree, and to have it be 100 degrees every day. I've now had both those dreams come true, though not at the same time...yet...(-:
I learned that the place I live in California is hemmed in by mountains on three sides. That being the case, in winter, one must plan travel well, as going north, east, or west, entails traveling up in elevation. This means one will encounter snow...a great deal of snow. Thus, there is always the possibility of one's trip turning into a scene from "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" (...cue music...), even if one only plans to travel ten miles.
For those addicted to Pinterest, I have a lovely outdoor space outside my kitchen, suitable for projects that are flammable or require the use of crafting products having toxic fumes. Because the weather here is awesome, I can use said space year-round. However, since my last Pinterest project entailed stabbing myself with a dull knife, with ensuing projectile bleeding from my hand, I'm not sure it would be a good idea for me to use it for such purposes. Perhaps I shall just sit quietly and enjoy my view... of the parking lot. (-:
Our neighbors do a lot of marijuana, though not in a glaringly obvious fashion. Most of my neighbors in the past few years have taken such recreational liberties, though much more obviously. Should you visit me, be advised that the exhaust fan in the guest bathroom switches on with light, and you will experience quite intense second-hand smoke. (Use caution during prolonged showers...)
Prolonged showers should not be an issue, as there is water rationing here...
I've been driving around thinking that there may actually have been a zombie apocalypse, since there are so few cars on the road...even at "rush hour" (?)
I have interviewed for several jobs. The interviewers seem quite scared of me when I say I'm from Chicago, and I'm not quite sure why. They take a step back and ask how I like it here, and ask why I'm here. Then most say: "...oh, are you with that school at Bethel?" At which point, one several things may happen:
1.) They ask to hug me and say something to the effect of: "...how nice...there are so many lovely people from there..." [Yay, I think?]
2.) Ask if I am single and ask to take my picture so they can send it to "...a nice boy who works here and also went to your school..." [Seriously?!]
3.) Look like they've just ingested foamy, room-temperature wedding punch...
I am thankful that I do not have to experience rush hour (or 5:30a.m.) on the Red Line. I've had enough of strangers touching me to last ten lifetimes.
I am thankful for all of the above, because it is hot here. (I LOVE HOT WEATHER!!!)
I am thankful that this week, someone offered to text me pictures of dirty snow, should I become "homesick"...(bless you!)
I am thankful that my roommate and I have discovered that we have the same random celebrity crush (Travis Fimmel), and also have a deep and abiding affection for the music of Maroon 5...(insert dance party in kitchen).
I am thankful that before I left, the awesome person who does my hair, you're probably reading this...do you want to remain anonymous?...taught me how to do an at-home ombre. I am thankful that though there is no Sephora or Ulta for about 50 miles, there is a Sally's, so I can drive there and pick up to tools with which to bleach my own hair.
I know, I know. It involves toxic chemicals. If I'm alive to post about it tomorrow, I shall.
I also heard a great quote yesterday: "This is not a rant. I am simply providing you all with information." Information is good, and it helps us make informed choices. More on that and hair adventures in the next post...
Cheers and a hug!
Love Suffers Long
People
have been asking me to keep them apprised of my California adventures.
Others have suggested I start a blog. Every time I decide to make a go
of it, I sit for an hour trying to come up with a catchy title for said
blog. And then I get bored and go do something else.
Until I figure out a title (...suggestions welcome!) I'll keep track of things for you all here!
Since you all know me fairly well, you know my brain is a very special place. (-: There is a disco ball the size of Texas in there and all thoughts either over-caffeinated or severely under-caffeinated. These words come from that place. Fasten your seatbelt and make sure your platform shoes have some tread on the bottom so we don't have any accidents.
Part 1: Thought of the Day
So we are a few days in. The new roomie and I met in the kitchen this morning. She had made me coffee, not really knowing that this is my supreme love language. (Hashtag #awesome...) She was reading (***gasp***) the New King James Version of the Bible over breakfast.
She said she liked certain things about the way the NKJV words things, and disliked others. The first verse of 1 Corinthians 13, the ubiquitous wedding passage, was one we discussed. It starts: "Love suffers long..."
That struck me. Love suffers long.
That is how I have been feeling. If you are reading this, you know I hold you in my heart, and I don't take any sort of relationship lightly. Every person is so valuable and worthy of love, edification, and honor, and I whole-heartely believe that, even if sometimes that hurts my heart.
Sometimes distance separates friends. Sometimes, to quell the pain, people choose to forget the person they love, or just remember them less. Please know I won't do that with you. If we are friends, you are in my heart, and in my heart, love suffers long. And that's a good thing. (-:
(...and of course, it's possible because Divine Love suffers long and He lives in me...)
Part 2: Random Updates
Those of you wondering about my move and flight:
I have many friends who helped me move. We have girl power. We moved boxes and furniture, and dealt with a dead car. At one point in the process, a friend parallel parked a four-door Chevy Silverado on Addison during a Cubs game. (Truth. Ninja skills.) Thank you to each of you for "suffering long" with me. I am not a linear thinker; helping me move was probably akin to herding a cat...
Spirit airlines, which will probably soon begin to charge for lavatory use, allowed me to take my 65-lb suitcase without a surcharge, (the limit is 40 pounds...), and failed to collect fees due for both carryon pieces: A guitar and a "purse" that was really a gym bag that likely weighed as much as said suitcase...
It is very quiet here, and very dark at night...
Though my current location is quite remote, the coffee and coffeehouses are awesome. I had a serious conversation with a barista yesterday about the viscosity of soy versus almond milk. He then proceeded to make me an almond-milk au lait, in which the almond milk was not burned. To me, superlative in every sense...
Evidently I arrived and the rain decided to accompany me. Rain in California is so awesome. It is almost all mist and sprinkles. Even the downpours are practically backed by cello music...
And since the other side of the mountains is burning to the ground, it is a very good thing there is rain today...
And that's a wrap! Until next time, y'all!
(((HUGS)))
Until I figure out a title (...suggestions welcome!) I'll keep track of things for you all here!
Since you all know me fairly well, you know my brain is a very special place. (-: There is a disco ball the size of Texas in there and all thoughts either over-caffeinated or severely under-caffeinated. These words come from that place. Fasten your seatbelt and make sure your platform shoes have some tread on the bottom so we don't have any accidents.
Part 1: Thought of the Day
So we are a few days in. The new roomie and I met in the kitchen this morning. She had made me coffee, not really knowing that this is my supreme love language. (Hashtag #awesome...) She was reading (***gasp***) the New King James Version of the Bible over breakfast.
She said she liked certain things about the way the NKJV words things, and disliked others. The first verse of 1 Corinthians 13, the ubiquitous wedding passage, was one we discussed. It starts: "Love suffers long..."
That struck me. Love suffers long.
That is how I have been feeling. If you are reading this, you know I hold you in my heart, and I don't take any sort of relationship lightly. Every person is so valuable and worthy of love, edification, and honor, and I whole-heartely believe that, even if sometimes that hurts my heart.
Sometimes distance separates friends. Sometimes, to quell the pain, people choose to forget the person they love, or just remember them less. Please know I won't do that with you. If we are friends, you are in my heart, and in my heart, love suffers long. And that's a good thing. (-:
(...and of course, it's possible because Divine Love suffers long and He lives in me...)
Part 2: Random Updates
Those of you wondering about my move and flight:
I have many friends who helped me move. We have girl power. We moved boxes and furniture, and dealt with a dead car. At one point in the process, a friend parallel parked a four-door Chevy Silverado on Addison during a Cubs game. (Truth. Ninja skills.) Thank you to each of you for "suffering long" with me. I am not a linear thinker; helping me move was probably akin to herding a cat...
Spirit airlines, which will probably soon begin to charge for lavatory use, allowed me to take my 65-lb suitcase without a surcharge, (the limit is 40 pounds...), and failed to collect fees due for both carryon pieces: A guitar and a "purse" that was really a gym bag that likely weighed as much as said suitcase...
It is very quiet here, and very dark at night...
Though my current location is quite remote, the coffee and coffeehouses are awesome. I had a serious conversation with a barista yesterday about the viscosity of soy versus almond milk. He then proceeded to make me an almond-milk au lait, in which the almond milk was not burned. To me, superlative in every sense...
Evidently I arrived and the rain decided to accompany me. Rain in California is so awesome. It is almost all mist and sprinkles. Even the downpours are practically backed by cello music...
And since the other side of the mountains is burning to the ground, it is a very good thing there is rain today...
And that's a wrap! Until next time, y'all!
(((HUGS)))
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