It is cold tonight. I went to a hockey game. My niece farted on me. My nephew said “Me play hockey.” Ronald McDonald (he’s real you know) was there and we got hamburger coupons, happymeal toys, and National hockey team flags. I sat with my brother and knew people thought we were a family. And we are, but not like they thought. Brother’s kids. Not my kids. In fact, Ronald McDonald, when he handed me my flag, said, “and one for mom!” HAH. All night I was wondering what people thought – like curious because I haven’t seen my niece and nephew since early September, so they’re a little shy with me, but not with their dad… my brother. So they were hanging off of him and loving life… but I had to work hard and be really patient to capture their affections. So I imagined that people were watching, thinking, “wow. That dad is sure connected with his kids. Wow. How sweet… oh but that mom, something’s wrong there. The little boy doesn’t sit with her, he seems a little scared of her at times.” And...
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I live on a hill, in the most beautiful area I have ever seen. Yes, there are roads carved into it and houses stacked up right next to each other... but then there are trees. Mountains. Hills. Sunsets. I am so tired my legs are buzzing. My house is silent, except for my fingers tapping on the keys of my mac. My brain is aware of .. I don't know how many things. My friend who just texted me, a new friend whose email I just read, the pile of Christmas cake on the counter that I hate, but ate a little of because there was nothing else, and my voice - which is so tired. . . and I wonder if I was mean tonight and yelled too much - but what do you do to people who are goofing around. I want to be everyone's friend... Tired. Peace. Jesus. I am alone. I'm surrounded. I make decisions constantly. I wish I had chocolate cake here. I'm glad I don't. If you were me, what one thing would you change?
Change. How. What. When. Why.. Why not.. But of course it can't be broken down (like we try to do to everything else) into some verifiable, 100% predictable 3 step process.. just follow the directions and BAM!! you are CHANGED! I read a quote that said something about how praying doesn't change God, it changes me. So I pray, but when I get up, no magic. HOWEVER!!! sometimes He does things and it impacts my brain, my spirit, my soul.. my something.. with truth that comes from so far outside of me, that I .. dare I say.. I change. He confronts something dark and hopeless inside me with truth, joy and opportunity. What I mean to say, He comes to my prison and offers freedom. Still, it happens over TIME and it usually is something I don't want to change, and so it usually hurts. When truth comes, even then, I have to choose it. I don't always. I usually only become willing to change when I can see my current way of being will make me my own enemy and put me into a prison no...
"You don't deserve it." Could be ugly words. On the other hand, could be a compliment. You don't deserve... to be treated like that, the punishment, to get fired, to miss your promotion. OR You don't deserve ... him - he's too good for you, the pay raise, to be so beautiful... etc. These words got me the other day - and they were the wounds of a friend that brought life and freedom. I lamented that I might become a disappointment to someone, that I might not deserve their love. "You don't," she said. Anger then relief. How rude. How wonderful. I can't. I won't. I don't. Love comes at me and I don't need to worry that it will end because it's not a reward. It just is. And so am I. And there is a big sigh, and then a smile. I don't deserve this, but that doesn't change anything.
Today I could have put the moon in my pocket. It was that close. I drove up a hill toward it and suddenly I knew I just couldn't be alone with this amazing white glowing orb almost touching down right in front of me. So I called my friend and told her to look at it. She was as excited as I, even though her view was obscured and she'd have to first go for a drive in order to encounter the white wonder yonder. That's a friend. Excited with me even though she can't see what I'm talking about. Willing to do something about it because she believes me. Friends. I am so rich. When you have friends, what do you need? I am not sure about many things. Many many things. But when it comes to friends, I am sure that I do not deserve, did not earn, and could not have arranged for the people in my life who have made a decision to love me more than just when they feel like it. I don't understand it, and I try not to become annoying by talking about it too much, but I am fat in ...
It's the funniest feeling. I'm here in Ottawa, trying to be at "THE CRY," but instead I'm at the public library writing. Speaking of public library, there was a line up of like 30 people when I got here this morning. I thought, "man, I'm going to be waiting FOREVER for the internet." but no. They all rushed upstairs. What's up there? I don't care. I got internet. Anyway. So I went to the Hill. No one is there. Of course there are tourists and hot dog vendors, security, the guards as in "the changing of the guard." But no music. No people praying. Weird. That's why I'm here. To check where it is that I'm supposed to be. THe great thing about this city is it is set up for visitors. I've already been given two maps. Very helpful. Lots of info centres around. Anyway, the Cry is apparently at two places and I'm not sure how that works or where that other place is that isn't on the hill where I think everyone else ...
Little white clouds dotted the sky. We walked. The sun was already set, but the light had yet to fade. I talked. I listened. Up the hill and back. What is it about us that it means so much to have another one of us look at us, nod, listen to us, then share them with us. Why when my dreams scare me do I want to tell somebody, when Sparrow says something funny do I have to tell somebody . . . and all I need is for something in their face to communicate that what I said meant something, made sense somehow, or was valuable to them. Sometimes I wish I could truly look into God's face and see how He responds to me. My prayers. My thoughts. My attempts to impress Him. My attempts to run from Him. The times I run to Him. I'd like to see Him nod. Smile. Wink. Oh man I'd love to see Him wink at me. I'd smile for a whole week straight. I wouldn't be able to stop. Winks make my heart flip. Unless the winker is scary... but let's say it's all good. No slime. I hope He w...
Are you allowed to post other people's articles on your own blog? Well... these are not my thoughts but I am thinking about them. What Pleases God By Andrew Wommack During a Sunday morning service in St. Joseph, Missouri, a few years back, I asked the congregation how many of them really want to please God more than anything else. Every hand went up. Then I asked them, "How many of you think God is really pleased with you?" Out of at least 400 people, one 11-year-old boy and one 10-year-old girl raised their hands. That was all. Very few believers actually believe that they are pleasing to God. Most feel some degree of forgiveness and maybe acceptance, but to think that the Lord is actually pleased with us is another matter. A person can choose to love you because of his or her own goodness, but to be pleased with you, they actually have to like your performance. Right? With God, no one could ever be pleasing to Him based on performance. His standard is perfection, and no...
If I could write whatever I wanted to write, completely uninhibited, what would I write? What words would I use? I think I'd be a rabid (not rapid.. i meant rabid) fire-hose of simultaneous happy and sad. I wonder if I'd be surprised by what came out. I wonder if you would be surprised. I wonder what things I'd really mean, and what thoughts I think I think but I'm really just playing around.. or my brain is playing with me and I haven't stopped to notice it yet. It's amazing how much weight some things carry and they're not even true and I don't even mean them. I just feel them. They SEEM legitimate, but are as troublesome and non-existent as.. as.. the magic hot air balloon in my backyard. Sometimes I wonder at Paul when he said he didn't even judge his own heart because guiltiness or guiltlessness is not an accurate indication of guilt. I hear people talk about consciences, and I agree. Sort of. But I also don't. Paul didn't depend on his...
Sometimes I live with the realization that God is clearly present and strong. Sometimes I don't. What do I on those days when I don't feel anything - is crucial. tantamount. important. enormously significant. come on... what other words are out there waiting to be used? It's so important that I continue to do just what I've always been doing - even though I feel dumb and am completely reluctant to answer anyone's questions about what I believe or think or feel. Sometimes I forget that what I'm doing isn't the main thing. I been really frustrated in a few instances recently. People weren't doing what I expected them to do. So I was snappy in one case(music), and in the other (basketball) I... hit the fence and said a few Christian style bad words. Flip. Heck. You know. As in, "what the flippin' heck." And then of course said something sassy. But then I realized, as I caught my breath, that the point of me playing sports wasn't to score p...
It's embarrassing to me, but sometimes, I think I'm still looking for a savior. I think maybe it's because I don't like the way the one called Jesus relates to me and so I try to find someone else, at least for a little bit until He and I see eye to eye again (which means until I humble myself.. he never changes his point of view). He's so patient. It's not that I don't think God's good or that He can't help me.. I sometimes just don't feel like I want to talk to Him. It's usually when I feel super frustrated about myself, I've probably made some dumb choices, and I'm in a funky mood. I actually don't really know. But it happens from time to time. It's like I want to reach into the air and just grab something, anything and make it all better immediately. But when I grab the air, I get nothing. And nothing doesn't make anything better ever. Today I argued with people. I picked fights. I quibbled and defended. I stunk inside...
I figured something out today. I saw this lady with a ring on her finger with a man without a ring on his finger. You know what I mean. I hear stories of hairdressers having to organize their bookings around ensuring certain people don't get overlapping appointments... and coffee shop people who observe marital unfaithfulness unfold before their eyes- he comes in with two different women, just on different days.. but he treats them both the same.. So I was thinking as i watched (and then quickly looked away) as the ring and the un-ring stood in line to order their drinks and semi-made out.. If there is such a thing. I was thinking - how the heck do some people find a way to trick TWO people into loving them, when some of us can't even trick one person into it. And there it is. I figured it out. You can't trick someone into love. Because then it's not love. It's a lie. Why would anyone trade a real chance at love for a lie? So maybe this lady has two men. One knows s...
At the coffee shop. Thoughts just happen here. Maybe it's the conversations I'm surrounded by. Lady behind me met a man on an online dating web site and just came home from visiting him in New Zealand. Lady across from me is doing a job interview. The interviewer is a little gruff. You know the kind, very elegant and well dressed. Older. And . . . a little demanding. I haven't seen any smiles or human reaching out. Not that she's inhuman. If I was being interviewed, I'd totally bomb this one because this lady would totally intimidate me. I wouldn't know what part of her to appeal to. Then the guy beside me with a laptop just called his mom and told her he was checking facebook for people with the same last name. Invited a guy to be his friend and said, "I'm so and so is my dad." And the guy said, "that's my dad's name too." So, I don't know if that was a coincidence, or these guys are long lost brothers, or what in this crazy ...
I have decided to stop trying to be a good Christian. The thing is, I think you either are or you aren't. Can you be a GOOD Christian or a BAD Christian? Christianity is this funny term that's supposed to describe people who are caught up in Christ, full of love for Him and who know Him on such a real and personal level that they remind people of Christ. Is Christianity about being nice and doing devotions, or is it about feeling good while singing songs about God, or is it..? What is it about me that makes me "Christian"? I hate that I feel this strange satisfaction when I have read my Bible and prayed in a day. Even better if I had some thoughts to write in my journal. It's crazy. Those are symptoms of a relationship (hopefully) but where is the actual relationship? I know we can't see Him, but we can and do know Him. Ok, we can see Him, just in more subtle, mysterious ways. More to come, I hope. I hope I forget how to try and I just learn how to be His fri...
Erase. Erase. What is there to say? So much, but I am sure it is being said. Somewhere. Today I was driving to the airport and on the way I saw a lady with two kids, in a silver car. Why did she capture my attention? I don't know these things. But she did. And suddenly all my brain power was sucked down into the vortex of "what are we doing here?? Is this all we do? Get married and have kids. Get married and have kids. Your kids get married and have kids, and their kids get married and have kids." That's sort of how it goes. And yet in what might seem to be predictable monotony, there is LIFE. There are vast differences between one couple who gets married and has kids and the next couple who gets married and has kids. There is pain in the exact same places that others have joy. There is simplicity and purpose where others have questions. I know I'm not the master of my own destiny, but I am a partner in it. Makes me think that what I think really matters. Even if...
"Can you believe that guy who stole that 91 year old lady's ring from the hospital? From her hospital bed! He should be hung (deleted from here were some choice and perhaps inappropriate suggestions on how exactly to do that) ... She was 91. She must have been married for almost 60 or 70 years. I mean I was only married for 40 years and my husband died 12 years ago, but the groove on my finger from the ring is still there." Said a woman to the lady at the till in a coffee shop. I didn't think it was such a big deal when I saw it on the front page - I mean, yes it's terrible. But then again I've never had a ring for 70 years on my finger. Sometimes I love to hear what makes people so irate, because it gives me another perspective on what might matter outside of my small circle of existence and experience.70 years is a long time to wear a ring. Fads come and go. Clothing styles change. But the ring stays, and hopefully so does the relationship. I hope it was a b...
I'm tired and it's bed time. I'm sore from training for a triathlon sprint. I just spent over three hours sitting at home listening to music and working on random projects. But I'm happy. I'm usually evaluating, or analyzing, or questioning, or remembering when I write here. But today I'm just here. It's nice being part of this existence. I've got complaints and things I'm waiting for, but here we all are. Did you see the sunset today? It's amazing how the red sky hits the wall making silhouettes of anything in its way. Don't worry. I had to look that word up. It took me three tries and I knew I wasn't going to get it. So good morning, good afternoon. Good evening. Hello. It's good to be alive.
The last, the least, the greatest. same thing. In all of this, I was struck by one reality: It’s all about relationships. At one point, Pastor Jim did an interview on the radio. Pretty cool. Probably thousands and thousands of people got to hear him. He came away a little befuddled. It was a unique experience. Listeners called in and he had to come up with answers really fast. But I thought about my life. It’s never really been changed by some quick snippet I heard on the radio or even by some real powerful preacher saying something to a humongous crowd of people. My life has been most changed as a result of watching people’s everyday lives and becoming hungry, even jealous. Or, through people watching my life closely and loving me enough to contradict me and off-kilter ideas, as well as by meetings with God where he took some truth in a moment and put his power on it, and his grace and mercy, and it penetrated whatever dumbness and resistance I had, grabbed hold of whatever willingnes...
What did we do what did we do? Pastor Jim preached at Pastor Borys Krysenko’s Messianic Congregation in Kiev at one of their retreats. It was about 3 or 4 days long (they merge after tiredness of flights and jetlag). I played and sang a couple of times. Rachel danced (Pastor Jim’s daughter. She’s in ballet.) These were long days of worship and preaching. Praying for people, dancing and talking with our new Messianic friends. It wasn’t a single church retreat, it was a regional retreat, so there were people from all over the Ukraine, Hungary, perhaps Poland and I can’t remember where else. When the retreat was over, we had Shabbat services. They have 2 congregations in different parts of the city. Rachel, Abigail & Jacob (a couple from Michigan who joined our team) and I went to the service that was smaller and was comprised mainly of younger people and Pastor Jim stayed with Pastor Borys and ministered there. Our lovely driver, Vlad, upon observing a back up in traffic due to an a...
Ukraine #4 I danced for 3 hours. We all did. Three hours at least. It all started when we had to take the offering and they leaders said, “ok, you can play music, but it has to be quiet because there’s a leader’s meeting happening in the room next door.” So it started quiet. And for 15 – 30 minutes remained as such. Then everything changed. It gets loud. People start dancing. It’s Jewish so there’s all these circles where you hold hands, and conga lines that are like follow the leader. Guys with guys and girls with girls. The guys are a little rough. Some of their dancing is just organized rough-housing. Everyone is sweating. I see sweat dripping off the chins of some of the men. The women glisten. I sit on the sidelines at first. These are my only clothes. My luggage is still lost. Someone grabs me and I’m in the circle dancing. It’s hot. We’re all sweating. I think of sitting down. The woman still won’t let go, so I give in and start to sweat. What can I do? I’m only here once. Sudde...
My luggage is lost. I won’t point fingers, but someone I know is praying for God to heal Air France. And I agree. The good news it that my guitar made it through. I was worried about it because I forgot to loosen the strings, but in the end, all was well. Just no luggage. So here I am. I have a toothbrush. No make-up, just some lip-gloss. I guess that takes off all the pressure of what I am going to wear every day. It will be these jeans, this blue shirt, these socks and these boots. And this face. My flight arrived about 40 minutes after Pastor Jim and Rachel got in, but when I got through customs and into the area to pick up my luggage they are still standing by their carousel waiting for their bags to come through. Now I’m waiting here hoping that maybe my stuff will come. Another kind young passenger discovers me and a few others who had transferred in Paris. All of us have missing baggage. So they translate for me and help me fill out the lost and found forms. I’m staying with Mar...
I'm in Paris. What a disappointment. Only a whole lot of airport and a whole lot of smog. It's early in the morning, so it's light, but I can't see the tower. I can't see the city. Who really knows if it is Paris after all? Except for the fact that they speak french and they say "Fwanns" instead of "France." This is my last little stop before Kiev. It's been fun traveling alone. The languages are fascinating and exciting to have come to my ears. One french man just gave me directions in pretty good English, however, his directions were wrong and now I have to go back the other way to catch my flight. I sat by two girls all the way from Detroit to Paris. Not a word of English, except for to say, "I can't speak English." To which I can't even respond, "I don't speak French." I'm surprised at how Hollywood is everywhere. Why? In every language, it's the same stars. Who cares? Apparently we all do. I don...