Saturday

Despite working lots and hitting the jackpot at "da Club" last night (Thanks, party of 6, for individually ordering glasses of the same wine at $11 a glass when you totally could have just bought a bottle for way cheaper), I got to go to Carla's on Saturday. We had Mexican Siesta. Yes, I know it is "Fiesta", but Emma Grace got them mixed up when she was 2 and it is now stuck in my head that way. Carla made Mexican Bean Casserole, Spring Mix Salad with Cucumber and Tomato and Cream Cheese Black Bean Apricot Chutney Something or Other Dip. I brought Roasted Red Pepper Greek Yogurt Dip.

Courtesy of the Kroger Clearance Aisle. Yes, I am that girl. I buy discounted grocery items. It's an obsession. I pay no attention to expiration dates. Especially on yogurt items. It is already cultured milk anyway, so how can it be spoiled-spoiled milk? What's another day? or two? or seven? But that just pertains to my own consumption. And family Mexican Siesta's. If you have me over, I will make it fresh. From scratch. No where near the expiration date. I promise. In a fancy dish and everything.

The girls had a Lemonade Stand. They were raising money for childhood cancer. They raised $70! In their little neighborhood. Evidently there is this organization, "Alex's Lemonade Stand".

They send you all you could ever need to host your own stand, a banner, lemonade, bracelets, even temporary tattoos. I am still sporting mine. I got a Mason jar from the kitchen cabinet, poured it half full with tea and then went outside to the Stand and topped it off with lemonade and sat with Catherine, under the umbrella, sipping my Arnold Palmer, and applied my Tat with a wet paper towel. It was hot. Catherine read her library book and I smiled big at passers by, trying to lure them in for a refreshing beverage. We had one taker. The man from across the street. I spent the rest of the time trying to think of a really good excuse to go inside. Mom and Dad arrived and I seized the opportunity and went inside to "visit" with them.

Having just gotten back from Bolivia, they brought presents. I got a necklace. It is gorgeous. I will show you. Carla and crew had just been to the beach. They gave me a neclace too. It is pretty. It is beaded. I love it. I am wearing it now. With my pink jcrew beaded t-shirt. Black skirt. Target open toe heels, which I hate. They make loud noise when you walk. Hair in same half-pony tail thing it was in all day yesterday at work. I slept with it up. Got up. Smoothed it with my hands. Voila'. I hate combing my hair. This is a joy of being an adult. I don't have to. So I don't. But if you have me over, I will comb it and wash it and everything.
After present opening, I lured the boys out on the back porch for decent sunlight with the point and shoot and took these:

Poor Carson. He got glasses. We all had glasses. Dad, Carla, me. It kinda makes me sad, because they are no fun. I had Lasik. But how cute is this face? And so cute with his little specs. And silly bands. And pursed lips. And ear lobes. And my sister's face.

He makes this face all day long. It is his, "I am about to tell a joke but would not dare actually laugh" Face. He is the straight man for sure.

And then there's this guy. Nathaniel. Or as he calls himself, "Natty the Two Year Old".

He went down for a nap while we were there, but when he woke up we had left. Carla said he was upset and kept saying, "But I NEED them". I need you too, Natty. In my arms, your cheek on my lips. Forever and a day.

North America Tour

I just returned from a tour with Iris Ministries. I am beyond exhausted. I just took a two hour nap, most of it sitting upright with my mouth open. That kind of tired. I came home to a huge stack of mail and bills and a tag on the door that told me my grass was too high. Oh, well. Tomorrow. The suitcase is open by the washing machine and I am slowly unpacking. My stomach is growling, but the only thing in the fridge, Greek Yogurt, expired in April. The jug of milk looks as if it is bulging a little and I fear taking the top off. But, it is good to be home.

We were in Boston, Fredericksburg, Toronto, Orillia, Ottawa, and Cleveland, Ohio. I loved Boston. We were near Cambridge. You could feel the smart people. The whole area was safe and pedestrian friendly, with great massive square with shops and restaurants of every cuisine you could desire. I got to have Sushi with my friend Tanya. You have read about her. I met her last summer in Mozambique and she is radical and she dreams in color about sustainable farming and development, like me.

I didn't get to see any of Fredericksburg, other than the venue and the hotel. However, I really liked the Fredericksburg Prayer Furnace and the band St. Lorel and the music of Andrea Marie Carr, and you would too.

The next stop was Canada. It was all good and productive and beneficial. Our goal is to share the experience of Iris Harvest School of Missions and help plug others in to the ministry. This took place at every meeting and it was fun to watch it all unfold. We met with some radical, amazing people; Relief workers, AIDS and Cancer Researchers, Engineers, Scientists, Activists, Revivalists...I got to do all of this following in the shadow of Helene Inga, one of the most amazing women I have ever met. We did mission school together in 2007. She is a concert pianist from Iceland. And that is only one of her giftings. My life has changed as a result of just hanging out with her for 10 days. She wants to study law and Opera and be a voice for the voiceless and the oppressed. And she will be. She is. I miss her.

Our final leg was in Ohio. I have never been to Ohio. What to you do in Ohio? My mission school friend Jen, picked me up at the airport and drove with me to the hotel. It was so good to see a friend and to have her help and she brought me a veggie sandwich with avocado. While in Youngstown, I got seated next to a sweet blonde with an accent named Maggie. We exchanged handshakes and names and that was it. Two days later she stood in front of me as I registered 1,500 youth for Jesus Culture in a town two hours north, which I worked at as a BSSM student. We laughed at the irony and she handed me her business card. Jesus Culture was beautiful to watch and I was honored to serve. I went back to my hotel, exhausted, from all the travel, lack of sleep, and watched a huge fireworks display from the Cleveland Indians stadium right outside my window, soaking it in as if it were just for me. They lost, but they celebrate anyway and it made me smile. I was even able to get away one afternoon and stumbled into this stunning cathedral. I sat on a little embroidered pillow on the floor and listened to gentle songs of Laura Woodley on my iPod and rested here. It felt so good.

The following day I looked up from my pew of the little church I was visiting that morning and there was Maggie again. I was so happy to see a familiar face, a friend, from way back to Tuesday! This time, she took me to lunch. Her husband Jeff told me about this great buffet and my heart sunk a little bit. If you know me, you know I am a food snob and the buffets I know are not pretty. Oh, but little did I know. We went to this place:

Sweet Jesus. Big God. Little me. I could have cried in my Sauvignon Blanc. Big tears. I was so happy. I was so sick of cashews and waxy apples and food on the go and bad airport sandwiches. And here before me was nothing short of Ritz Carlton Sunday Brunch with a breathtaking view. I could barely enjoy the food, for the big huge lump in my throat of being so totally undone, by such a wonderful blessing, a glorious meal, and new powerful, amazing friends. Thank you, Maggie and Jeff.

Harvest School

Currently in Canada, meeting with engineers, nurses, relief workers, graduate school students, NGO workers, who all want to get involved!

A tiny update

In keeping up with my personal goals of writing more and forcing creativity and self expression, I reckon I need to post a little update on what all is going on. Clearly not paying any attention to properly ending sentences and just putting it all on paper, here it goes: Working lots. Jobs 1 & 2. In Job 1 I just completed my 13th legislative session. In Job 2, I just got home from a 13 hour day. Still madly in love with my Yamaha P85 and cannot spend enough time with her. And as if I had nothing else to do, I have taken on a little volunteer job with Iris Ministries. As you may recall, this is the group I just visited this past summer, attended their mission school and with whom I am interested in doing full time missions, perhaps.

I say that word a lot. Perhaps. I start sentences with it, end sentences with it. Answer questions with it. I love that word. So fitting for most all things. "Perhaps you would like some chocolate"? "Perhaps". It is an adverb and a noun. Meaning, possibly but not certainly, open to doubt. It is a shortened version of, "kinda sorta... not really", which is my other favorite phrase. I reckon I feel that if I precede the words "not really" with "kinda sorta", the blow of "no" is not so bad.

This is the very reason why I have not been here to write, delirium ensues. I am so tired and exhausted that my poor little mind can't even hold a thought together for one little minute. But now, upon reflection, I should not use the "p" word at all in referencing missions and all that. It is only a matter of time. Simply praying into when, where, and how. So that is that.

Iris Ministries asked if I would help set up small teams to take to conferences around the U.S. and Canada. If you are a Harvest School student and want to know more. Write me! We are there to simply serve as an extension of the ministry, share more about the school, the variety of projects supported by Iris, how others can get involved and the like. Doctors, Nurses, Engineers, Teachers, Policy Analysts, man, woman, boy and girl, we can use anyone and everyone! I love seeing the faces of people who have deep heartfelt dreams to serve in Africa and want to come. Their excitement is contagious. I love playing a small role in equipping them in their lifelong dreams to serve. And I love the way they teach me how to love. I am so inept at it. I am not much of a hugger, not much of a talker, pretty oblivious to most things around me. But these missionary types are all so kind and sweet and affectionate and such good listeners, attentive and generous. I am learning a lot from them. Soon, we will be traveling to Boston, Fredricksburg, Toronto, Orillia, Ottawa and Youngstown, OH.

Updates to come, perhaps.

Photo Courtesy of Micheala Potterbaum

Another Day in the Studio

Okay, maybe not another day. Maybe just the only day ever. However, there are more to come! I know it. For Bethel School we had to do a group project. My group wrote a song! Kerric was the encourager. Ben, the musician and I, the lyricist. Yep, I wrote it. Years ago I was inspired by Rolland Baker's teachings on falling in love with Jesus and how easy the relationship is with Him. You don't have to strive, struggle, fast, sweat or struggle to have a relationship with Him. It is easy. No agenda. I could write a whole sermon and testimony of this alone. Rolland also encouraged my creativity, telling us all that we should be singing our own worship that's deep inside. Some of it all came out! And on paper. And on the piano and leaked in the studio and is now a delightful little powerful song. We had fun. But Studio work is hard work. Eeek. It took forever. And was kinda boring at times really and I felt so inept. Gotta get busy practicing my keys so I can at least play a more vital part. But my words rocked. The song is nice. You can hear it. Someday.

Queens- Part 2

Colorful visuals of the Bubble Tea and fun Korean shops. I must go back. So much to see and do and eat. This shop was  fun.

The Bubble Tea. 

This makes me want one. Korean Candy is good too. I had those yummy Asian Candy treats in Africa and thought they were amazing and thought it was because I was starving. But, no, they are really just that good.

The Porter

This place recently made my Favorite Things.  Located in Little Five Points, it is a great place to spend an afternoon, choose from a massive selection of complex brews from around the world, and have a warm, delcious meal. They even offer pairing selections! You must go.

 These are fried goat cheese with honey. They knew I was coming.

Found it!

It was in my travel cooler. That's where you keep your camera right? In an insulated bag with all your food? I have been on the road a ton lately. Long weekend at Morningstar to hear Girls Out Loud, then back to Ft. Mill for a Conference with Iris Ministries, work, class, other work. Lots going on. I took my dry cleaning that has been in the trunk of the car since March 2009, and even picked it up! My legs are shaved. But the lawn is a jungle. Clothes are in the washing machine. But I have not checked the mail in days. But there are so many good things on here and I am so glad I found it. Or else you would not get to see him:

My adorable meat eating nephew, Nathaniel.

 He has dimples in his hands. And his teeth in my heart.

Long Island- Part I

I have been waiting for a quiet moment to sit down and write about my recent trip to Long Island. And now here I am in a moment of solitude and I can't find my camera! Where could it be? When did I have it last? I usually carry it everywhere I go. It is not in my bag. It will turn up. Eventually. So all you get are two pics that Sophia took:

I love Sophia. We were in mission school together, and although we lived  100 yards from each other I really didn't get to know her well. I sat with her once when we both went up to visit with the older girls in the Children's Center and she made popcorn and it was really good. Little did I know this girl is a professional. She is a real Foodie. She loves food and she can eat. She is tiny, tiny, but can eat like no one else I know...although someone comes to mind. Sophia is Korean and wanted me to experience authentic Korean Cuisine. So we drove through downtown Flushing and Queens until she found the perfect spot, a little Korean dive. I love dives.


The places where the locals eat. Except for BBQ dives, those are just gross. But Asian food dives with yummy fresh vegetables in fresh spices and crunchy rolls of amazingness. So good. Sophia ordered for me and I could not tell you what we had, but it was good. Really, really good. We got these gooey pumpkin cake things to go. It's called DDUK in Korean. However you say that. I like the texture of Asian foods. We went to the Korean Market and I bought candy for the kids. The best gummy candies you have ever put in your mouth. Ugh! I took pictures of all that too. Will put them here when the camera appears. Where could it be? Oh, I pray I have not lost it. Surely not.

But after the market we went into all these delightful Korean shops that all looked like Hello Kitty Sanrio stores that were so colorful and fun and you could stay in there for hours. Tiny intricate key chains in every shape and design you can imagine. Slim little notebooks and pencils and candies and all sorts of treasures in pink. The notebooks had poorly translated English written on the covers that made no sense whatsoever and we laughed hard at them. Kinda like the "Jesus Save You" t-shirt I saw in Africa, but funnier than that even.

Then we had Bubble Tea. Sophia got one flavor and I got another so that I could taste different kinds. That's what good friends are for. Mine was almost like a hazelnut flavor and Sophia's was fruity. They were served cold in big clear plastic cups with the biggest straws you have ever seen. The Bubbles are huge round dark tapioca. It is a sweet iced beverage with a chewy treat at the bottom. Strange I know. But good. Not something you would want every day, but absolutely something you must try. I have heard you can get them on Buford Highway in Atlanta. But don't go alone.

Sophia has invited me back and I am checking AirTran flights. Maybe it's on the kitchen counter? Or in the trunk? Part II coming soon....

no way! seriously? what? you're kidding me? really? yipeeeee!

My jaw is still on the floor. I think Jesus is who He says He is. Not just think, I know. I am innately this person with extreme child-like faith. At the same time, I am always a skeptic? But I always check the front porch for packages, even though I never order anything and I expect God to show up, because He always does. It is usually never quite like we think, and sometimes we miss it altogether, but He is constantly speaking and acting on our behalf.

All of this sounds silly, but it is all about desire, big or small and God's faithfulness. As you know by now, I want a MacBook Pro. The Mason jar set aside to collect change and extra bills to eventually amount to $2,000 never contained more than $17. As I talked to God about all my wants and desires and dreams, a MacBook was just a small part of it all. However, the goal of earning enough money to buy one launched me into this current "moonlighting" situation. I am finally at the point, almost, where all bills are paid, and I am about to be making money. I am delighted. I need to practice constraint and set money aside as my ultimate goal is to build up a fund to send me to Africa or wherever He wants me. However, the MacBook is vital to communication, spreading the word, making music and seeing the faces of my nieces and nephews, and yours too. So, despite being selfish and shallow, it is on the list. Also on the list is a Yamaha P85. When I started taking keys lessons with Leslie, she told me this is what I needed to get. They are cheap by good keyboard standards, but still $600. That's a lot of lobster tails and bottles of Cakebread Chardonnay. I spent a good bit of time, pricing them and planning when, where and how I could get my very own P85.

This weekend on my way to Alabama, my friend Jill  and fellow BSSM student and I started talking about music and songs and writing and I told her a little bit about my dreams and how I want to write some things and about the Art. Sound. Outlet. and my taking keys lessons and how I was having so much fun with it all. I told her I was saving up for a P85 and that I was, surprisingly, quite serious about it and enjoying it all so much. (She is a trained Classical pianist). Mike, also a BSSM student, was in the backseat and chimed in and told me he had a Yamaha P85. Then he said, he might sell it. Maybe. He would have to think about it.

Ugh! "Think". How much longer? Think "yes" or think "no". Hurry up. The conversation ended and although anxious to manipulate him to sell it to me, I let it go. :)

I saw him at class last night and guess what? He GAVE IT TO MEEEEEEE!!!! For free. Nada. I get to keep my money! I brought her home last night! Pounded on her until midnight and am still smiling so big.

Yet the message is bigger than a free $600 keyboard. I am a little freaked out. I told God I wanted to make music and he set me up to get instruction from the very best, with Paulette and Molly and Leslie and now he is giving me the tools to do it. Free. Now I feel like I HAVE to do it. The doubt of IF has been removed and all excuses taken away. He is saying, "Here you go. All the tools you need. Now pour it out". I cannot doubt or question Him. I think this is going to be big, no longer contained to my living room. Yet no clue how, when, where or why. Just happy. In awe like most days. In love. Tickled. Lesson tonight. Stoked.

building up bridges

I left Friday after work for a ministry trip with BSSM. We were going to minister to young boys on drugs. As you may recall, I have a messed up sphere for "minister", no sphere for "boys" and have now taken 3 drug tests in the past 5 months and passed them all. But I signed up with anticipation, just knowing this was something I didn't want to miss. "The Bridge" is an adolescent drug treatment facility in Alabama. They operate 14 different facilities throughout the State. This particular facility was for boys ages 13-17, most have been court appointed to the program and some have psychological disorders, as well as substance abuse problems. I arrived Friday night to a cafeteria of boys in khaki pants and big tennis shoes. Dressed in cheap, collared shirts in various colors, tattooed, greasy and abrupt. I instantly asked God, “what do you see”? He said, “The cream of the crop, the very best, a Harvard graduating class”. Not quite what I saw.

That evening our ministry team, divided into teams of two, sat in front of the boys individually, and told them how God saw them. We learned their stories, their backgrounds, their family life. Over and over, we heard stories of neglect and abuse. One boy with a splotchy weak beard and wide brown eyes just stared at me and listened to every word I said. He listened so intently. I had visions of him as a young boy watching his mother, telling her he loved her, that she was beautiful and being her biggest fan. I could tell he was innately an encourager, a teacher’s pet, that adorable little boy, any mother would want to follow her around all day. But his mother needed more than the devotion of a needy kid, found love in “all the wrong places”, and a few years with an abusive step-father, opens the door to escape, wrong friends, cheap highs, police, courtrooms and rehab. He says his real dad is a musician and he wants to be one too, but he’s “not any good”. Story after story, they are all basically the same, “my grandma raised me and my brother, but she died”. “I don’t got no daddy. So I gotta take care of my mama and my two sisters”. He’s 14 and dreams of “working hard” and playing football. “My Granny goes to church sometimes and I go with her. But it’s boring”. Yep, I bet. What can I bring these boys that changes everything? Hope. So I close by eyes and go for it. We call it “pulling out the gold” in people. I show them their value, how God sees them, their potential, their abilities, the little things I see just by looking into their eyes, their desire to simply be loved, their wit and humor, their ingenuity, their kindness, their creativity. All created in God’s image and He is altogether lovely. Their faces change and I see hope in their eyes. We start to ask them about their dreams and they are all glorious amazing dreams. One guy wants to be a heart surgeon. His father and grandfather are surgeons too and he has the SAT scores to get him in medical school. All the other boys listen to him, he is wise beyond his years, a Renaissance boy who you can tell knows a little bit about just about everything. But he’s there- in a plastic chair, and a purple shirt, which tells me he gets out in two weeks. I am a total stranger, I know nothing about him, but all I can think is, “what are YOU doing HERE”? So I tell about my life, my encounters and my complete lack of will power to not do most all things and about a real Savior, who comes along beside me every single day and loves me to pieces and how my heart changes daily as I fall in love and then pleasing Him just gets easy. He hugs me and says, “thank you for coming here”. I meet a boy with light green eyes and white blonde hair. He’s been there 9 days. He has a thick Southern accent. He has 50 more days to go. He hears we are bringing another team in April. He asks me if I am coming too. When I say I had something else to do that weekend, he said, “Like what?” Ugh! “A girls weekend?” It tugged at my heart. What? What could be more important? Ugh! Right then and there I fell in love with greasy boys with bad skin and self-inflicted tattoos. He asked me if I wanted to go shoot hoops and we did. They all called me “ma’am” and I didn’t complain in the least.


We took a group down to a little river behind the property and baptized them, while other boys came to watch. Scott gave his testimony of how he was in a life no different than theirs and you could hear a pin drop. Boys got saved, transformed, loved on. Dreams got awakened, encouraged, breathed upon.


The Bridge boys are rough at first glance, but when you look a little deeper, they shine so incredibly bright they transform you with their beauty.

Photo Courtesy of Angelique Charnock

Book Review- Culture of Honor

This book was a Ministry School reading assignment. It begins with a detailed and humorous description of the five-fold ministries within the church. I love teachings on all things. I love being shown the order in things and given descriptions and outlines and having things taught to me in an orderly, concise manner. Danny does this with a very difficult subject to digest, church structure and five-fold ministry. He brings it into focus and brings scripture to present day. I love conversations on the church, where are we going? Why are we not effective? What can we do? What does Jesus say about it? How did we evolve to being just Sunday School and donuts? What is the role of a Pastor? What does a church leadership team talk about when they all go out to lunch after church? How did we develop all these programs? Are we being the church that Christ has called us to be? Are we meeting the needs of others? Danny address a lot of my questions in this book. Yet, it is so much more than a book on church. It is a book about how to live life with others and how we see ourselves. It allowed me to see new layers of the Grace of God and the beauty of His creation, you and me. The book address a large array of subjects that all could be books themselves. One chapter on love completely undid me and made me re-evaluate the way I see others. Another chapter on confrontation gave me some real, practical tools on how to "do" relationships. Each chapter reveals more insight into the Culture of Honor. A culture of valuing others, seeing Christ in others, honoring those around us as God's creations and being full of Christ. This is not an easy thing to do, but it unleashes His presence and the supernatural follows Him. I loved this book. I underlined and took notes. It was that good.

I'm gonna birth a baby!!!!

I know this one will get your attention. I have been hesitant to write all this. But want to be in the habit of regular posts and I cannot keep a secret. I cannot come here and write and talk about my day and life and all these musings of me, without telling you that I am going to birth a baby!! I think. Maybe. My college roommate Laura, wound up marrying one of those bald guys in camouflage that we went to college with. He was actually in my history class and I got his sarcasm and he got mine. I have written about Laura here before. I love her. Well, poor John is defending our country for a whole year in an undisclosed location. And she is stationed in middle of nowhere Kansas, that doesn't even have a Super Target, with two little precious children to entertain her and one in the womb. She called the other night and began to talk about the deployment situation and began to discuss things that I had already been considering about the delivery and John coming home and I could hear the worry in her voice and the next thing I know she is asking ME to come and help her bring this baby into the WORLD! EEEEK. She said she could not think of anyone else but ME who she would want to coach her through this and help during this time. And I can't think of anyone better either. I didn't tell her about my vomit phobia and fear of blood and hospitals and people in pain. But this is bigger than my little issues, this is a baby and my best friend and she needs me.  We can do this. I can do this. I will just need coffee, a focal point and a People magazine. This is hands down the greatest honor ever. I am at a lost for words. Just giddy with excitement. What an honor to be chosen to cheer her on and love on her and take care of her and wait by her bed in extreme anticipation for this little person to come into the world. I can tidy up the house, do laundry and serve her breakfast in bed. I am going to perfect my French Toast in the coming months, just for her. My heart already breaks a little bit when I think about the plane ride home and leaving my girl and her baby. And little Hailey and Owen. This is going to be a great year. I knew that 2010 was full of good things. I felt the momentum and had unexplainable expectation. I had no idea it would involve me watching a baby come into this world. There is nothing better. They smell so good. They scrunch up their tiny little legs and stretch and purse their lips and I want to hold him so badly. She doesn't know the sex of the baby and is considering not finding out. Which is all the better. All the more excitement. The decision on John coming for the birth has yet to be made. So technically I am Plan B in this situation, but my odds are good. This should all make for a really good story. Me, in Kansas, taking care of a toddler, an 8 year old and their 9-months pregnant mother. Laura already gave me the quick list of activities for which I would be driving carpool. Again, coffee, focal point, and a People magazine. I can do this!

Over the Rhine

Went to their concert last night at Eddie's Attic in Downtown Decatur. I love this group. They are amazing singer/songwriters. Their stuff is raw and inspiring. Her voice is incredible. It is a mix of country and gospel and blues and jazz with olives, shaken not stirred. http://www.overtherhine.com/

They almost make the art of songwriting seem easy as they write our their feelings or their story, grab the words that speak the most, and put them to 4:4 time and a guitar strum. I reckon it is a whole lot harder than that. But they certainly inspire. And I want to try it.

Member Number 1234

I feel like a professional daydreamer. I worked again this weekend and spent 24 hours in this little abyss at the country club. I don't even have a place to write down my genius that I think up as I sit there. I am often with another person, so I am distracted and feel rude if I ignore them and escape into my own world of thoughts and prose and pontification and jotting notes on my order pad. So I am frustrated with this inability to be writing and journaling and playing keys, but I know this is only a season. But here goes my entry for today:

You know how sometimes you spot someone and you immediately think, "I want to know that person" or "That is a quality human being"? You don't know how you know or what it is about them that draws you to them, but they carry something. This weekend I waited on a table where I saw a familiar face. I honestly could not recall his name. I give them all nicknames there anyway. Don't tell them that. But there is Pink Fox Fur Lady, Big Fat Ring on Every Finger Lady, Big Red Hair Ninety Nine Year Old Lady, Drinks Wine with a Straw Lady, and that is all the same person. There is Orville Redenbacher, Botox Gone Bad Lady, Really Old Man Who Eats A Hamburger Every Single Sunday and Chases It With Scotch and Hell He's Lived This Long I Might Just Try That Too Man. There is Could You Be More Pretentious and Where Do They Sell Those Argyle Sweaters You Wear Man. And If Our Lack of Sugar in the Raw Offends You That Badly I Would Hate to See You When Real Tragedy Strikes. Oh and I can't forget Owns a Jet But Steals Dessert Off the Sunday Brunch Bar Man. Love that guy. And Fake Knocker Ladies 1-247. Well, this guy is How Sweet Are You Man. He has this look on his face that says, "I am kind and you can trust me". It is honestly the only time that I really wanted to pull up a chair and join the table. He's about Dad's age. Gentle. Sweet. You can tell he has a daughter. He came in on Saturday and again on Sunday. Both times with his wife and both times, bringing a single woman as a guest. He sat there for an hour or more and listened while his wife visited with the young female and he just smiled. On Sunday, they had clearly just come from church and he was obviously graciously hosting a girl, about my age and taking her out for Brunch. I love anybody that takes along a third wheel and makes them feel loved. I am sure he told his wife, "Honey, let's find a lonely, hungry single girl at the Methodist Church this morning who is probably gonna have a Lean Cuisine if we don't ask her out to eat and see if she is interested in an all you can eat buffet, dessert included".

The minute I approached his table I remembered his familiar kind face and I instantly thought, "I really like this man and I really would like to know more about what he is all about". An hour later, he asked me to lunch. I thought the whole thing was a bit bizarre as it all just sprung out of idle conversation, but we found common ground and evidently he thought I was worth getting to know as well. And I am smiling even now as I recall my previous entry about the ladies down by the tennis courts. I wanted to play too. Real bad. Just one serve. A hard one. Right inside the line. I wanted those ladies to see me. I didn't like being invisible. I didn't like that they flaunted their stupid overpriced sweaters. I can get mine next season at TJ Maxx for half price. So there. So now Member Number 1234 is asking me to lunch! The girl who has to park in the back forty field and walk through the dungeon entrance in the back with all the garbage and soiled linens is going to lunch with one of  "the rich folks". So now I really must quit calling them all that and judging them so. Tsk. Tsk. They now have names and are no longer numbers and they drive cars and they came and picked me up in one.

I am still sitting here thinking about the irony of all that, the fact that he wanted to meet with me, because I had something to offer. He took time to learn about me and my background and discovered that I just might have something that he needs. And of course, I am more than willing to help. And now I get redeemed. Just a tiny bit. It's no Queen Esther or anything, but it is a tiny way of God winking at me and saying, "I see you. You are not invisible at all". He is so good. That is such a God thing. So evident of how He works. Love that Guy. He never ceases to amaze me.

Member Number 1234 and I covered some good ground today. I can help him with his project for certain. I intend to fully educate myself on his non-profit endeavors and will connect him with all resources that I have. In turn, I am just excited to see his kind face at my table in the months ahead. And he will serve as a reminder to "see" others as I want to be seen. Stop for the one. Love the one in front of me. Don't judge, even the dude that steals the bread pudding. God loves him too. What are you doing to me Lord? Whatever it is, make it stick. Amen.

We win.

This just makes me smile.

An excerpt from Culture of Honor by Danny Silk

"We as believers living in this wider culture have to be aware of the schemes of the enemy. We have to be aware of how natural it is to be offended, and what offense does to you. What offense does to you is it justifies you withholding your love. I get to withhold my love from you when you have broken the rules, because people who fail are unworthy of love, and they deserve to be punished. In fact, what punishment looks like most often is withholding love. And when I withhold love, anxiety fills the void, and a spirit of fear directs my behavior toward the offender" (p. 93).

100 dreams: part 1

surf the west coast

publish a book

learn a foreign language

take cooking lessons and practice often

write songs

make music

set foot on every continent

research and eradicate global poverty

get a macbook pro

decorate an old house

Quote

"Instead of wondering where your next vacation is, maybe you ought to set up a life you don't need to escape from." - Seth Godin.

Dreams

I am a huge dreamer. The whole reason I am on this current journey in life is all because of dreams. Not lofty ones and not wishful ones, but those deep sleep intense kind. I think I have mentioned some here before. Not sure. They are often so intense that I don't want to talk about them. I remember and can even still recall most of them, but try to write them down the next day. I find my bizarre dreams written in notebooks all over the house. Underneath a grocery list I will have a half-asleep scribbled sentence about a dream from the night before. However, I rarely sit out and write out a thorough interpretation. I let these dreams resonate deep in my spirit and don't think much with my head, as much as with my heart, about these dreams. I am very good at not thinking with my head.  I really don't like to hear people tell me their dreams. I always get all confused and just feel that they are too science fiction for me to figure out and I never know what really happened versus what was in the dream, so I usually glaze over when people tell their dreams. But don't glaze over! Listen. So. I had a dream about a car flying in the air and driving toward me. The car came through the air, right up to my car, but landed in front of me and drove away. I pulled over, frantically and asked a group of construction workers what that was all about. I was as panicked in the dream as I would have been in real life if a car had been driving toward me and landed on the stretch of road in front of me. The construction workers laughed and were not at all concerned. One of them looked at me and said, "What you just saw where the Four Feasts of Esther". And I woke up.

The dream impacted me in many ways. I woke up with that phrase in my head...four feasts, fours feasts, four feasts. I went to my desk, pulled out my Bible and read about the four feasts within Esther. I then read about Purim and how it is held now in February among the Jews. I decided I would fast at sundown along with them. I found these beautiful works of art, depicting the final feast.

Purim was held this weekend. The fast was held on Thursday! I thought it would be on Saturday, but Saturday was the Celebration and Friday is the Sabbath so Thursday was the day of fasting. I got the dates all wrong. I totally missed it. I thought it was on Saturday. When I reviewed it Saturday morning, I discovered that the Jewish people were actually have a time of celebration and eating these special cookies called hamentaschen or "Haman's Ears".  How could I fast when they were getting to eat cookies? So I messed that all up.

I shared the dream with Terra who had just finished a 14 week study on the book of Esther and we determined that the dream had to do with favor. Esther was certainly favored and perhaps this meant I was to enter a time of favor in my life. I already feel this to be true. Something resonates within me that says that this will be a year of unusual favor, one of relationships and connections that will lead to more of my dreams coming true. Not sure how I know it, but just feel that this will come to pass this year, and it is better to have faith and dream and expect than to not.

In ministry school they offer a small alternative ministry course in art. I love art. It speaks to me. We were created to create. So i took this course. We had to draw a picture for someone else. The boy beside me drew a picture of a car coming out of a river. He handed it to the girl up front and said, "vehicles represent ministry and yours is coming out of an unusual place". I took a part of this to interpret my own little dream. A car and an unusual place. Ministry? What even is that really? And Yes, this is coming from someone in ministry school. I might just fail. Ministry just conjures up not so good thoughts for me. It seems vague. It makes me think of short sleeved dress shirts and cheap suits. And old vans with carpet on the ceiling. I know, I am nuts. But at least I am no longer in denial over it. I don't even know what the word means and I don't even like the word, so how can I have one? Merriam-Webster defines Ministry as, 4 : a person or thing through which something is accomplished. I will take that definition. All the other definitions had the word minister or religion in it and seem lofty and unattainable to me. However, a "person through which something is accomplished". I can do that.

Now I just have to figure out what, when, where and how. What is it that I want to accomplish? If anything could be done through me, using my brain, hands, feet, charm, discerning palate, what would it be? That is a massive question. It has a massive, life long answer. But I thought I would begin to start to address this and walk it out here, with you.  What can I be used to do, where I can give away to others, have all that I need, and love what I do? Sometimes I feel so far from it, and others times just on the verge of something really, really big.

African Friends and the Rich Folks

I'm reading this book, African Friends and Money Matters and I love it. I alluded to it in my last entry when I write about African ways of doing things and how much more relational they are and how much more they value community. It was a valuable lesson I learned while in Mozambique and the sole reason I agreed to the recent roommate thing. I am not in need of having someone share my expenses, as much as I am in need to learn to live life with others and not be so incredibly selfish. I have no patience. I love living alone. I love "me time". I love it all too much. I love my peace and I love my quiet and I love my life and I am rarely lonely.  Sometimes I do need help around here and there is the choking hazard thing, but for the most part my life is wonderful. Yet, how can I face a life of missions or any true life if I can't live with others around me, taking up my time and space? I really need to learn a life of sacrifice. I don't want to become a hermit and not know how to handle noise or how to share. I am so incredibly spoiled. And this is coming from the girl who had a puppy for one day. 24 hours. I took him back because he kept looking at me and following me around and it drove me insane. And yes, I am laughing as I write this. 

 I am loving African Friends and contemplating what I can learn from their culture and make it a part of mine. Meanwhile, I am worn slap out. I am in a new season of all sorts of new things and honestly I look at myself in the mirror these days and ask, "Who are you?". Recently, I felt like God was telling me to get busy. I was living a very quiet, selfish life. I have a wonderful job, and many hours on my hands in the evenings to do whatever I choose and weekends free to go wherever I'd like. I trained for a half-marathon with all that time last year and wound up running 3 of them and loved every minute of it. I dedicated a year to just coming home and running. After being in Africa this summer I began to re-evaluate things and wanted to set some priorities. I decided to enroll in 2nd Year of Bethel School and was assigned my own personal life coach. He and I sat down and started mapping out goals and discussing dreams and it became apparent to me that I needed to get busy. My daily routine of living a selfish life of loving on myself and doing whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it and making no sacrifice or investments in others was not the route I wanted to continue to take. I wanted to be able to invest in all sorts of things and wanted to start to take action and go after it and not let life just happen to me, but me happen to life. I stumbled upon this little second job. It has turned out to be much bigger of a time investment that I anticipated. I work all the time. Between the two jobs and Bethel School, I am never home and I am absolutely exhausted. I have not one single day to myself. My feet hurt. I don't anticipate this going on for forever, so I have complained very little. Also, it has been extremely benefical in supplementing my income and I now have this new little account to fund all sorts of dreams. What I didn't anticipate were all the side effects.

I work in a country club. The first night when the first woman, who was about my age, asked me for something to drink, I honestly looked at her with the expression, "Who, me?". My whole life I have been on the other side. I am the one in evening attire, placing my order and anticipating fast service. It has been YEARS since I have waited on any one else in any way. And to have this woman in her Diane von Furstenberg ask me for a glass of Pinot, threw me off. I had this huge conversation with myself...."you have to go and get it and bring it to her and smile at her and be nice and you can't take a sip". Oh my. "You are not invited to the table. They don't want you to sit down and talk to them. You are a waitress". Who me? "Yes, you. Girl in the necktie and starched white shirt. Go get the woman her wine". "Excuse me, miss". MISS!!!! I am your age, dude. As a matter of fact I kinda know you. You  are a lobbyist, like 36. You're friends with some of my friends. Actually, we all went to a dinner together last year at Rathbun's. Oh, please don't recognize me. Whew. He didn't. And don't call me Miss". Needless to say you can see how this has rocked my little world. Serving others. In a necktie. And a name tag. Yesterday, I actually got to go outside down by the tennis courts and monitor a group drinking beer from plastic cups. Some kinda regulation thing and alcohol laws or something or another. All the women were in their cute little tennis outfits and they completely ignored me. I wanted to say, "I have that Tory Burch sweater". But I didn't say anything. I just stood there thinking, "this stinks". I started referencing them all as "the rich folks" to myself of course, and I just classify them all together. I know this is not right. I should see them for the individuals who they are, but it is so much fun to just call them "the rich folks" and make judgments about their predictable behavior. Yet I reckon I only do it because they make me feel so utterly invisible sometimes. I honestly have all the validation I need and I am so incredibly happy and life is good and jokes on them for not getting to have an exchange with the most amazing human being on the planet, so I am still able to strut my stuff and be happy and just have conversations with them in my head and comment back to their conversation about their weekend at Serenbe or Sea Island vacation and put in my two cents on the pimiento cheese sandwiches at the Bakery at Serenbe or the Georgia Sea Grille on St. Simon's. Then it suddenly hits me. I do this too. I don't see people at all. I order my drink and expect to just get it. I special order my food and just say "thanks", but I really don't always mean it. I don't think for one minute how little that poor girl makes or what her day has been like or anything. Oh no. This is not good. This is one of the reasons I am here. I need to learn to be sympathetic. I need to learn patience. I need to learn to love and see people's hearts, not handbags. I want to have compassion on everybody and truly SEE others and not be accused of ignoring anyone. And even though I crack myself up with the imaginary conversations I have with "the rich folks" I need to always remember what being invisible feels like. This has been a great lesson for me. I want to see beyond the Tory Burch and see their hearts, their humanness and learn to serve that Pinot with a smile that is genuine. I am trying. It is not easy. It is actually very, very hard. God has totally set me up.

here i go again

so neglected this little blog lately. i miss it. it misses me. it is all i can do these days to get out of bed in the morning. i am so sleepy, the act of talking on the phone exhausts me. i am eating poorly, by that i mean cottage cheese and wheat thins and peanut butter and rice cakes. my laundry pile is embarrassing. i am actually sitting in my living room in total darkness because none of the lamps are plugged in because i am rearranging furniture. i shoulda drawn out all the pieces to scale and figured it out on paper. but no. that's too left brained for me. i just start pushing furniture. you cannot push furniture in sock feet. did you know that? it's a fact. you have to do it barefooted. i bought a new chair for $25 at the Nearly New Store which led to the purchase of 13 yards of fabric. i shipped it and a poor sketch of the chair off to Mama Deane to have her sweet little missionary lady make me a slip cover for it. it is way ugly at the moment. mixed in with my pottery barn assortment and antique auction furniture. i can't figure out where to squeeze it in. i got it because i think i am getting a roommate and i needed an additional seating area for when we are both here and living life, we don't have to do so knee to knee. yes, a roommate. i am petrified. i am a spoiled brat. i have always lived alone. well, college, but that doesn't count and i didn't cope so well with that either. i was great until holly got married and left me with that total stranger roommate and things went down hill. but then i found laura and we did have fun in that hot little house with that awful, thin, cheap, cheap carpet. but here i am 32 years old, about to share life with another human being. mornings, evenings, weekends, cleaning, cooking, resting, worshipping, eating. with someone else watching. eeek. part of me embraces this. another soul to come home to. someone to kill the bugs, wash the dishes or even just talk to me while i do. but part of me is F-reaking. she is gonna see how weird i am?! yikes. she is gonna see what an awful grouch i am in the mornings. she is gonna know that i wear the same hoodie every single solitary night and i really don't wash it very often. she is gonna see that i never check the mailbox or take out the trash and sometimes i let that little black ring surface just above the toilet water. eeek yikes. none of this was even what i came here to say and now i am going to be up another hour freaking. no. i am not. God told me He was sending her to help me. so He will be all in this and this will be glorious. ahhhh.

now. so i am in the living room and furniture is all over the place and it kinda bothers me but kinda not and i think i will just let it be a big mess in here for tonight. i am learning to let some things go. i pray that this roommate experience will be one where i have someone to help share the load and life will be easier. it is supposed to be this way anyway. we were created for community and to share and work together, not be all alone. our Western mindset is all wrong in praising independence and solidarity. the Africans have it right, community is everything. friendship is everything. we cannot survive without each other. so i am throwing up my hands and saying, "help". i am beating my head up against a brick wall and for what? opinions of others? not really. i got over that a long time ago. not everything has to be perfect. who is even gonna see this living room tonight, this week or even this month? just me. i have this insane "performance" thing that puts pressure on me to have things in order and to be done a certain way. and i am not even good at it. so i am giving up. i will get rid of the ring in the toilet and i think i may go start a load of laundry, because i like the ebb and flow of keeping things clean, tidy and in order, but not because i feel pressure to maintain.
God doesn't expect performance of any kind. He likes to just "be". i love to just "be". i am very, very good at it. if you ever hang out with me you will see me master it perfectly. i am not one to have huge long excited conversations, i like to just hang out with you. even in utter silence. just be. just come and sit. smile. nod. glance. hang. sip. taste. hug. then leave. this is how my earthly father and i communicate. he grunts, raises his eyebrows. nods. smiles. nods. grunts. scratches his chin. very few words are exchanged between us.

all this rambling to say. i am back. i hope and pray. life is slowly becoming more normal. more routine. and so many exciting things are happening that i cannot NOT share them. God is doing something massive in my life and i want to record it here so you can walk it out with me. all ten of you. i need your help. i need my community. my network. one of you little followers just offered to do my taxes. and that simple little act makes me feel not so alone. i relinquish my independence and cry HELP. plus i really need that check ASAP. i need to be held accountable. i need to be checked up on. especially since i live alone! i could totally choke on my rice cake and die and no one would know. so if i don't post soon...call me...if i don't answer try facebook, if no response...911.

art. sound. outlet.

This is a little promo of the music workshop I went to last week. So excited about all that I learned and cannot wait to do, see and experience so much more of all this. Sitting in my wobbly chair, at the cheap cheap keyboard, banging out melodies in the living room...Much fun.

Just what AM I doing?

Christine wants an update! Hello, Love. I don't like to force entries because then they are not any good. They are not creative or inspired. But I can try...

I recently stumbled upon this group of women who sing and write songs and I am inspired. Their music was given to me years ago by Shannon Fisher, in copied Sharpie marked CD format and I played them over and over in the Volvo and in my little boom box in my little, little condo in the ATL back in the day. When I bought Catherine an iPod shuffle for Christmas one year, the songs were new and the iPod arrived a little early so I put these artists on it and the shuffle in my pocket and carried them everywhere I went for a month, jogging and grocery shopping, and me...humming. They are on my iPod too and still go with me all over the place. I even had it on the alarm setting to wake me up each morning, but soon started to loathe any song I had to wake up to and now just rise to Blackberry Notifier ChiGong instead. Volume: Low. 7:33AM. 5 Minute Snooze Option. But I can remember where and when I heard these songs for the first time and I can go back to the hardwood floors in that tiny, tiny condo and I feel something. Those songs were raw. They were singing about a God they knew and loved and trusted. It wasn't about religion, but an encounter and a lifestyle and a relationship. All I knew what that I felt better with those lyrics in my head than the lies that I seemed to keep believing. They sang about Hope and Freedom and I didn't really have a clue as to what all that was about. And if you have read anything I have ever written, I am still trying to figure all that out. But I just knew that these girls were on to something good and I wanted what they had and they became a daily part of my routine and they taught me how to worship and led me into encounters with God. And all those encounters led to new discovery, real dreams and lofty dreams and writing and creativity and expression and so much.

So long story short one of these artist was playing at a church nearby and I was so not gonna go, but randomly had the night off and happened to be home and so I made myself just go. It was a tiny little place with no one really there and it was raining and I was on empty and out in the middle of nowhere, but they had hot tea! So I went to the back to get some and saw the keyboard player and said hello. We started talking and turns out she is incredibly amazing and super talented and was in the ATL this week to teach a music course. My heart is to create music that leads others to encounters like I had. Whether it is by my hands, my voice, digitially enhanced or just my lyrics, it is my heart to create music.  So I am going!

And we are doing stuff like this:

and this:

And I haven't a clue, but I am a quick learner. Sorta. But stoked nonetheless. I need a MacBook Pro immediately. Dad? Anyone?