Thoughts while Traveling

Thursdays...

2007-12-13T12:55:00.000-05:00

I am looking out on the city and the biggest snowflakes I have ever seen falling and occasionally stopping to rest on my 7th floor window sill for a brief spell on the way to their demise below.

I opened up my email and found a humorous email.

DOG DIARY
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

I can learn something from my dog.

CAT DIARY
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

This morning? I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the
guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.

For now...
Cat

I knew I hated cats..

Stay warm and dry, new York.
__________________________________________________

A Thursday to remember

2007-11-26T11:26:00.000-05:00

Although we missed our families terribly this Thanksgiving, we couldn't have been more blessed in the company we found ourselves in. A plethora of cultures, extended family, and walks of life. There were new friendships formed and strengthened, providential meetings that could only have been orchestrated by God, family relationships clearly being restored, sincere and tearful expressions of gratitude, and last but not least, the dueling turkeys.

Good times. Wish we had taken more pictures. We have much to be thankful for this November. I can't even put into words right now all that has happened this past week. I am overwhelmed with God's...interest and love for me. I almost cannot believe it, but I can see His hand so clearly. He doesn't give up on us, even when we start to give up on ourselves.

Overwhelmed by grace...again.

Saturday Field Trip

2007-11-23T11:45:00.001-05:00

raindrops on roses ..or leaves?

2007-11-15T11:04:00.000-05:00

I sure wish we could send some of this rain down to Atlanta.

My faith is being tested. As much as I was prepared to fight unemployment and had "all my ducks in a row", life always throws curve balls. I know people have it a lot worse than me, I simply haven't worked in 2 and a half days and am panicking. The job that was in the bag is now floating again in the universe up for grabs. Although I want desperately to scream "I am the one for the job!" ....reality as a servant of Christ is.. maybe I am not. If I gave that situation to God and left it there, then who am I to go and pick up ownership again? I cannot.

The restlessness of waiting is hard for me. The last 2 days have been quiet. I can appreciate that as a gift. Thankfully, the agency came through and placed me in a menial receptionist job for the day at the last minute. So I threw on some mascara and dashed out to sit here all day, but at least get paid. Hence the blogging on the rainy day in Brooklyn while at work. The manager keeps telling me to read a book, as I will be bored. Right now bored is not the sentiment, I am thankful.

I found myself panicking this morning when there was no work. That lasted about 5 minutes. I allowed myself 5 minutes of self pity.I know where to go. I know who to turn to. Not my emotions, that are as fickle as the R train. Last night at Bible study we talked about our time communing with God, and stopping to pray when we have the inkling, instead of adding it to our daily "to-do" list. That discussion was fresh on my heart, thankfully. I spent some time with God and prayed. That led to listening to the worship music for this coming Sunday. {Explanation: Justin and I have joined the worship team at our church. I am having to learn some of the newer worship tunes out there, as we have been out of that arena for a few years.} That to say, I was lying on the floor with Theo singing my heart out, repeating these words:

Oh no, you never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, you never let go
Through every high and every low
oh no, you never let go,
Lord, you never let go of me...

And in the midst of surrendering, the phone rang. Enough said. Thanks.

I do have much to be thankful for.

The adventures of temping continue...as I wait on you, Father. Your grace is all I need.

"My baby takes the morning train..."

2007-11-13T09:09:00.000-05:00

Blustery day

2007-11-13T09:06:00.000-05:00

black and white

2007-11-13T08:59:00.001-05:00

2007-11-08T16:46:00.000-05:00

I know. I keep changing the page. I think I have too much fun playing with it. As well as a tad too much time on my hands.

Ever fickle in blogger land.

My life as a temp

2007-11-08T10:50:00.001-05:00

There are times in life when I feel like the purpose of my existence is to defy symmetry, to color wildly outside the lines, and to remove boundaries. Now, I don't always operate this way, just ask my husband who lives with me and gets a huge *** sigh *** from my direction when his coat is not hanging up on the hook... where his coat GOES, I might add. In my personal space, I prefer "organized" madness. The madness still exist, but it has a home. It is when I am in the spaces of others, organized "others" in particular, that I desire to splash some color around all the white and take some sandpaper to the sharp 90 degree angles.

This week the aforementioned rebellious spirit is screaming to get out as I find myself trapped in a white box. I am assisting 4 architects. Architects, I am learning, are incredibly -beyond incredibly... meticulous. (My immediate observation is OCD overload, although that seemed a bit harsh and judgemental.) I am not here to diagnose, just assist. Never have I felt like such a minority. I long to run to exile island for lunch. Question for my only architect type friend, Matt: are you ALL like this? I suppose you have to be to some extent. I get it. I don't have to like it, but I get it.

What comes to mind is a little saying I learned in elementary school. I have a vague memory of my sister and I driving our mother insane repeating this over and over with different voice inflections and voices over and over and over in the back of a mini van. Booth in the middle, reciting the Christmas story.

Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a rubber room. I died in that rubber room. They buried me deep, deep down, with all the worms and bugs. Bugs? I hate bugs. They make me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once... (and so on)

Different strokes, man. I need to get back quickly to the land of the crazies. The white box is making me see double.

2007-11-06T17:35:00.000-05:00

Went and saw a new friend play on Friday night. Great guy, unique voice, quite a songwriter, as unashamed as they come. Check out Zach at www.zachwilliams.com

2007-11-04T20:27:00.000-05:00

Yashir koyech - May your strength continue

2007-11-02T15:11:00.000-04:00

My co-workers just presented me with a lovely card saying goodbye. That was nice.
My last day in student loans. Can't say I am bummed about that. On to new things, as always! I had an interview last night that went swimmingly! Pending a background check, I believe I am in. That feels good. If I do get the job, I am told by the agency that found me the job that I will get every Jewish holiday off. That's just amazingly sweet. Anyone have any plans for Hannukah?

Update on the eye twitch. The bugger lasted for a good 31 hours straight, but was gone when I woke up this morning. It was unfortunately replaced with a headache, but hey, progress is progress.

I just ordered all of my groceries online and they will be delievered to my house between 3 and 5 tommorow. God, I love New York. My favorite part of the experience, (other than walking 10 blocks) was this exerpt of the confirmation email:

You'll know your order has arrived when a uniformed FreshDirect delivery person appears at your door bearing boxes of fresh food.

It's the little things.

I am beginning to feel a freedom in my soul that I haven't felt in a long time. When my circumstances are very unsettled I deal with some intense anxiety at times. This week has been one of those times. But as I am working on the discipline of "taking every thought captive to Jesus" my load lightens with each step. I am longing and desiring to do so when times are settled and easy, instead of only when my heart is in turmoil. Swelling in my heart since yesterday, is a song! Do you know how long it has been since I have had a song in my heart?? Not just in my mind, but seeping into me, penetrating my emptiness and my soul? These words contain my story. They comfort me, they convict me, they fill me with peace and with hope, they connect me to my Maker. Thank you, my Father.

When peace like a river attendeth my way.
When sorrow like sea billows roll.
Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say,
"It is well, it is well, with my soul".

My sin oh the bliss of this glorious thought.
My sin not in part but the whole
Are nailed to that cross and I'll bear them no more!
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, O my soul!!

It is well (It is well)
With my soul (with my soul).
It is well, it is well with my soul.

And Lord please haste the day
When my faith shall be sight.
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.
The trump shall resound
And the Lord shall descend!
Even so, it is well with my soul.

10.31.07

2007-10-31T18:12:00.001-04:00

There are little parades everywhere. In the East Village, on 7th Ave. in the Slope, etc., etc. Children and adults alike traipsing around in costumes and giggling. Why is it I have to keep reminding myself it is Halloween?

My eye will not stop twitching. The right one. It has been convulsing for 5 hours straight now, with only seconds here and there of relief. Google led me to an explanation of stress and anxiety. Now there is a revelation. Ha.

I wish I could make it stop, because it is making me so tired and irritated.

Two more days of my current job. Another promising interview tomorrow. I am sure that VICTORY is around the corner. My faith has been really tested this past week. I ask God to reveal the scary corners of my heart and he does it. Ever faithful He is.

It is quite an amazing thing, the discipline of storing His Word in my heart each morning before walking out the door. Everything looks different. People look at me different. Funny thing about that is I don't see myself. I only see them. So why do THEY look at ME different? I must look different. I must look kinder and gentler and more loving and accepting. Fruits of the spirit, you know? I was talking to Todd about that in the elevator today. How we have much more control of how people respond to us than we think we do. Why do we face the same issues from job to job, city to city, house to house? Perhaps because the common denominator is people. And ourselves. And the thick walls that we can build in an instant. We ask for it. Perhaps we should start giving more than receiving. (I sound "cryptic" I am sure, as my old buddy Phil says)

Just think about it. So many times I see pictures rather than words and have a hard time translating them.

I heard a sermon this morning that is sticking with me. A highlight for me? She said, "When you have the Spirit of the Lord living and breathing in you, God MAKES people like you!" I love that. Because it has nothing to do with me but everything to do with WHO is living in me.

This statement was in the context of coming to the Father BOLDLY with our requests, and when we do so only IN THE NAME OF JESUS and only FOR THE GLORY OF JESUS, things that we request (such as God's favor in job interviews, in my case) WILL be done. The secret is the motivation. In recent years I have struggled with this BOLDNESS in my faith. I think because I have a deep understanding of my flesh and my unworthiness. I carry around old sins and baggage I have already been forgiven for. So... I beg God for scraps. "Just" get me by. That is in direct contradiction to what the Word of God says. Don't get me wrong, I do not prescribe whatsoever to the "prosperity" theology and preaching we see so much of these days. However, God is ready to bless us with more. More opportunities, more spiritual insight, more responsibility...

Makes the battle way more intense. But I know for me, for whatever time I have left on this earth, I would rather be fighting an intense battle than chilling out and bored in the trenches.

The eye is still twitching. I need to close it for a while. Heading home to turn off the lights and pretend I am not there, because I don't have any candy to hand out.
Hey, no judgment...the rent had to be paid today and there is nothing left for candy. Dog food?

No, incognito is my costume for the evening.

A Wind-Beaten Tree

2007-10-25T10:49:00.001-04:00

Vincent Van Gogh has always been one of my favorite artists. I learned once that he was a "tempermental" artist and "tortured soul". I have never taken the time to find out why. More. I read something this morning that stirred not simply curiosity in me, but a deep longing to research and dig into the lives and faith of artists.

I believe God just whispered in my ear. After a while in the desert, I am thirsty.

A quick paraphrase of what I read on the train this morning that captured my heart: At the age of 25, he wanted to preach. He believed he was called to be an evangelist. He had a burning passion for people. He went to the coal mines of southern Belgium. Disaster insued in a mine, and out of that he found himself ministering to an overflowing church of hungry for a message of love. A superior in the church came to visit him and was appauled at his lifestyle and his appearance. He was clothed in rags, lived in a hut, and gave his salary to the people. He was dismissed from the ministry as pitiful and unfit to teach, as he looked worse than the people that he was called to love. He was devastated. He lingered for a while in the village and began to sketch a solitary face.

There is so much more I want to know. I read a few of his letters to his brother, Theo this morning when I got to my destination. This one brought tears to my eyes as I connected on a spritual level with his words. I think you can help me see more clearly, Vincent, through the whispering of the Holy Spirit. I have always been inspired by his colors, his insight, his gift. Now, his words. A traveller that has gone before.

Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh Amsterdam, 30 May 1877

Dear Theo,

Thanks for your letter that arrived today, I am very busy and write in a hurry. I gave your letter to Uncle Jan, he sends you his greetings and thanks for it. There was a sentence in your letter that struck me, “I wish I were far away from everything, I am the cause of all, and bring only sorrow to everybody, I alone have brought all this misery on myself and others.” These words struck me because that same feeling, just the same, not more nor less, is also on my conscience.

When I think of the past, - when I think of the future of almost invincible difficulties, of much and difficult work, which I do not like, which I, or rather my evil self, would like to shirk; when I think the eyes of so many are fixed on me, - who will know where the fault is, if I do not succeed, who will not make me trivial reproaches, but as they are well tried and trained in everything that is right and virtuous and fine gold, they will say, as it were by the expression of their faces: we have helped you and have been a light unto you, - we have done for you what we could, have you tried honestly? what is now our reward and the fruit of our labour?

See! when I think of all this, and of so many other things like it, too numerous to name them all, of all the difficulties and cares that do not grow less when we advance in life, of sorrow, of disappointment, of the fear of failure, of disgrace, - then I also have the longing - I wish I were far away from everything! And yet I go on, but prudently and hoping to have strength to resist those things, so that I shall know what to answer to those reproaches that threaten me, and believing that notwithstanding everything that seems against me, I yet shall reach the aim I am striving for, and if God wills it, shall find favour in the eyes of some I love and in the eyes of those that will come after me.

There is written: “Lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees,” and when the disciples had worked all night and had not caught any fish, they were told “go out into the deep and cast your nets again into the sea.” My head is sometimes heavy and often it burns and my thoughts are confused - I don't see how I shall ever get that difficult and extensive study into it - to get used to and persevere in simple regular study after all those emotional years is not always easy. And yet I go on; if we are tired isn't it then because we have already walked a long way, and if it is true that man has his battle to fight on earth, is not then the feeling of weariness and the burning of the head a sign that we have been struggling? When we are working at a difficult task and strive after a good thing we fight a righteous battle, the direct reward of which is that we are kept from much evil. And God sees the trouble and the sorrow and He can help in spite of all. The faith in God is firm in me - it is no imagination, no idle faith - but it is so, it is true, there is a God Who is alive and He is with our parents and His eye is also upon us, and I am sure He plans our life and we do not quite belong to ourselves as it were - and this God is no other than Christ of Whom we read in our Bible and Whose word and history is also deep in our heart.

If I had only given all my strength to it before, yes, I should have been further now, - but even now He will be a strong support, and it is in His power to make our lives bearable, to keep us from evil, to let all things contribute towards a good end, to make our end peaceful. There is much evil in the world and in ourselves, terrible things, and one does not need to be far advanced in life, to be in fear of much and to feel the need of a firm faith in life hereafter, and to know that without faith in God one cannot live, one cannot bear it. But with that faith one can go on for a long time. When I found myself in front of the corpse of Aerssen the calmness and dignity and solemn silence of death contrasted with us, who still live, to such an extent, that we all felt the truth Of what his daughter said with such simplicity: “he is freed from the burden of life, which we have to go on bearing.”

And yet we are so much attached to the old life, because next to our despondent moods we have our happy moments when heart and soul rejoice, like the lark that cannot keep from singing in the morning, even though the soul sometimes sinks within us and is fearful. And the memories of all we have loved stay and come back to us in the evening of our life. They are not dead but sleep, and it is well to gather a treasure of them. A handshake and write soon to Your loving brother, Vincent

Everything is new ...Again!

2007-10-24T12:04:00.000-04:00

Things I have learned of the Big Apple since my emergence:

NY is the most environmentally conscious place I have ever lived.

One can exist in a city of millions... and be lonely.

Beware of most "street meat" except for Rafiqui's on Park & 57th.

The big and scary "NYC" gets smaller the more days I walk the streets.

Everything is later. People get to work later, stay later, and eat dinner late. Not working for me. I am putting on weight like a sumo wrestler, regardless of the 2 miles walking every day.

Having your groceries delivered is not lazy. Its just smart.

Relying solely on public transportation is teaching me patience.

I need to join an online book club. I can't feed my reading habit fast enough with the hour commute to work.

Although I can hold my own on Madison Ave., the breath I take when getting off the train in Brooklyn at the end of the day is...deep.

My husband has never seemed more alive. I love that.

2007-10-23T17:00:00.001-04:00

"When religion has said its last word, there is little we need other than God Himself. The evil habit of seeking 'God-and' effectively prevents us from finding God in full revelation. And in the 'and' lies our great woe. If we omit the 'and' we shall soon find God, and in Him we shall find that for which we have all our lives been secretly longing. We need not fear that in seeking God only we may narrow our lives or restrict the motions of our expanding hearts. The opposite is true. We can well afford to make God our All, to concentrate, to sacrifice the many for the one."

AW Tozer

life and it's seasons

2007-03-28T12:49:00.000-04:00

I never thought I would reach the age when all my friends were having babies. For that matter, I STILL wonder if I will ever reach the age when I will have a baby myself. I suppose I thought that Jesus would come back before then or I would kick the bucket for sure! Who knows? It's sure not penciled into the plans as of yet.

To each his own.

I do love other people's babies!

Pro-creation sure is in the water lately among my peers.

Selena finally pushed out EVAN last Friday
Christie popped out JONAS last week as well
Joy will be introducing JUSTICE into the ATL any day
Katie is well on the way to producing the twins KEAGAN and ROWAN
By the end of the summer, Caroline will implant another girl in the house

Blessings galore for all my girls- Auntie Anna can't wait to spoil them all
and fingerpaint until we pass out!

GREAT ARTICLE

2007-03-28T11:14:00.000-04:00

Reflections on the arts and a horse named Seabiscuit
by Dick Ryan

My heart has been broken time and again by seeing the hurt and pain that many of my artistic friends have experienced!

The first time I saw the movie Seabiscuit, I wept so hard that I had to leave my seat and go to the back of the theater so I wouldn’t annoy the people around me.

For those who are not familiar with it, this commercial Hollywood release tells the true story of an undersized, abused, not-very-good-looking racehorse with a serious leg injury that became, many believe, the most famous horse of the twentieth Century. Tobey Maguire played Red Pollard, the half-blind jockey who was really too big to ride horses successfully. Jeff Bridges played the owner, and Chris Cooper played Seabiscuit’s trainer. The lives of all three men were as damaged and abused by the world as that of the horse.

But why did I weep? What was it about this movie that dug into my emotions so deeply? Part of my visceral reaction might be personal: There are times when I myself feel like a broken-down old horse, not fit to run races any more. More important: I’ve known so many talented people who have led lives full of defeat. I’ve known many fine artists who were designed by God to be racers but were turned into plow horses by our often hostile arts world. They were told that they didn’t “measure up” to the world’s expectations. As a result, their careers, their hearts and even their lives were often thrown into the trash. This is why I wept! Does life have to be this way?

I wept because God gives His children beautiful gifts with a plan attached—a good plan that shows each of us how God wants these gifts to be used. But many artists miss out on this plan of God. Jeremiah recorded the Lord as declaring, "For I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to give you hope and a future" (29:11). I believe with all my heart God’s promise is true. Why, then, do so few artists “walk” in these truths?

Several times in the movie, when a horse or a person was close to being thrown away because they didn’t measure up, first one character and then others repeated: “Why throw away a life because it’s a little banged up?” When an abused and confused and angry young Seabiscuit literally could not run in a straight line, the wise old trainer quietly said: “He’s forgotten how to be a horse. Let’s give‘m his head. Let him run through the country until he wants to stop—let him go. Let’s see what he’s got.”

Here is the deepest reason that I was so moved. Just as Seabiscuit was allowed to race, our artists need a new day: a day to run full out, to be all that God designed them to be! Seabiscuit is about hope, and we are entering a new day of hope for artists, newly enabled to race as God designed them to, each with the freedom to be the unique person our Lord had in mind when He gave us our gifts. I believe that the day has begun when artists will be free to have a second and a third and a hundredth chance to not have their dreams “thrown away” because they don’t measure up to the perfection of the world on their first try.

Hope is the most necessary of our artistic tools. Hope is what allows us to rewrite and experiment until our work and our lives are filled with real truth and real beauty. Hope is among the most essential gifts God gives us. It is a belief that God has a valuable purpose and meaning for our lives. Hope is about us, God’s people, being redeemed and transformed.

And my heart is filled with exquisite joy as I dream about God’s artistic gifts being used in new and wonderful ways, both inside and outside the Church. I see the beginning of the day when all the many forms of art are employed at the very highest quality levels to communicate God’s truth and beauty to this hurting world. Whether Christians are working at major network television headquarters in New York or playing in the top symphonies or teaching music in grade school or writing fiction and poetry or leading worship in Church—I see them doing it all for God’s glory, just as God designed each of us to do.

How will this amazing arts-world transformation happen? There can only be one answer: God himself has to do it! In His sovereign mercy, God is first restoring the hearts of artists. Once restored, He will show them how to walk in His power to accomplish His dream for each of their lives.

The bottom line of transformation is always belief. Is it really true that we can turn to Him and allow Him to confront and destroy the lie that the arts and our lives are of little importance? Yes, we can. We can have this centuries-old lie eliminated from our lives, and it is starting to happen already. Artists are beginning to again believe that God yearns to work in every corner of their lives—even their art—and are receiving new freedom as a result.

Isaiah 62:10 says, “Pass through, pass through the gates! Prepare the way for the people. Build up, build up the highway! Remove the stones. Raise a banner for the nations.” I believe that the time has come for God to show us how to “remove the stones” that have blocked so many artists from the life that God has planned for them. “Removing the stones”—the lies we have believed about God, the arts and ourselves—will result in our hearts being remade so that we can once again “run free.”

I can’t pretend that I know all the answers about how this transformation process occurs, but I know that one enormous factor is the creation of communities—real communities—open and witnessing communities that are safe places for Christian artists to be themselves. As the trainer said about Seabiscuit, “He needs to learn how to be a horse again.” Our artists need to learn to run and race and dance and sing and pray in a safe place, a place of healing and genuine encouragement and truth. We need to give them the time to learn what the world has tried to steal from them: to learn how to integrate their Christianity and their artistic lives. Each one needs to recover the true knowledge of God’s identity and who we are as His children and as His artists.

So, let’s return to the reasons why I was so deeply affected by a Hollywood movie about a racing horse named Seabiscuit. The personal part of my passionate reaction is very real. I can honestly admit to being a broken man who has lost much. But I can stand tall before you today and say: “God is good, and God is merciful!” This truth is what I want to be formed in the hearts of all artists!

The world said that Seabiscuit’s owner, jockey, trainer and the horse itself were losers—of no importance. The world has been saying that for hundreds of years about those of us who are artists, too. But I believe that a new day is dawning, a day when we will run very important races, when we will “press on” to the prize of showing the world through the arts something of God’s glory and mercy.

Pray that it may be so! Then some of us will weep with joy!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

just a glimpse!

2007-03-12T13:23:00.000-04:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

"Call PETA. the circus is coming to town..."

2007-01-31T15:28:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I heard the word "bamboozled" a total of four times.

That was peculiar, I thought. I don't even know if that is a real word.

Then, after a long day I slumbered and dreamt of very strange things. Like a herd of elephants walking through my workplace, led by my gregarious and loud mouth boss, who ironically was returning today from a business trip to Las Vegas. I am not a dream analyzer myself, however I would venture to say that this image is a telling one of my feelings toward her.

Life is looking different lately. I am grateful and humbled when I look and see before me a kicked open door. I look ahead and I hope. In a sermon I heard a few weeks ago, "Hope" was described as one of the three "sisters", sandwiched in between "Faith" and "Love." Words that incidentally are thrown around these days like a football in a half hearted pick-up game on a Saturday afternoon.

"Hope", like many middle children, is sometimes displaced and unsure of it's identity.
We treat it as such. I know I have. Hope, I realized, is something I don't cling to very often.

I want to learn how to do that more.

2007-01-29T09:00:00.000-05:00

Paradoxes

When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and I get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious, I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.

To live bt grace means to acknowledge my whole life's story, the light side and the dark. In admitting my shadow side, I learn who I am and what God's grace means. As Thomas Merton put it, "A saint is not someone who is good but who experiences the goodness of God."

~ "For them I santify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified." John 17:19

2006-12-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

Praying that Sarah-Bo gets home for Christmas...

I refuse to say "humbug"

2006-12-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

It is almost Christmas. Time flies, man.

My sister is in the hospital and in pain. Prayers for her- I love you, Sarah bo.
My brother is in transition - prayers for him. Love to you, too.
My grandparents are in a final major transition of life- Prayers for them.

I don't know whats going on in the grand scheme of my own life, except that my Father still sits on the throne and IS LOVE. That means there is no reason to fear or worry- right?

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29

self pity vs. just plain heartache

2006-12-19T12:22:00.000-05:00

One would think that the sting of rejection would gradually decrease time after time.

It doesn't.

little quiz

2006-12-14T14:30:00.000-05:00

Your Dominant Thinking Style: Visioning

You are very insightful and tend to make decisions based on your insights.
You focus on how things should be - even if you haven't worked out the details.

An idealist, thinking of the future helps you guide your path.
You tend to give others long-term direction and momentum.

What's Your Thinking Style?

be sure to pack light

2006-12-14T13:18:00.000-05:00

I work at a newspaper. Every December the newsroom has a massive book sale that makes me happy. They purge and those of us that dare, indulge. Today was the day. I walked down the hall with nostalgic thoughts of one my favorite days in elementary school known as the book fairs. These mentioned book fairs could have very well been the start to my shopping addiction, now that I think about it. Anyway, my purchases include a total of 4 hardback novels that sparked my interest, as well as 3 CD's that looked promising, a tiny Christmas book for a special kid in my life, and last but not least another cool and obscure book that is destined for a specific individual who will remain nameless due to the surprise element of the Christmas season. Justin has rubbed off on me, I suppose. Surprises aren't totally bad.

The grand total for all my treasures? A whopping $11. Love that. Sarah would be so proud.

I have been sitting here reading one of these books and had to stop. I have been struck and wanted to write it down so I don't forget. Written by Catherine Ryan Hyde, the novel is called Love in the Present Tense. It has a picture of a kid jumping off a cliff after some birds. It's a beautiful picture, and that is probably the reason it appealed to me in the first place. The visual learner in me can't be pursuaded to change. Good thing the writing is agreeable. I am engrossed already in the story and more, these characters that have stolen my heart. This story would make a great play or screenplay.

Anyhow, my stopping place that nudged me here was a description of Leonard, a motherless, fatherless kid who is so different he makes everyone around him ponder his existence.

"He just has this thing about transcendence. Doesn't want too many earthbound connections... That's Leonard's approach to life itself. He refuses to unpack."

Man, if that little piece of fiction doesn't make me stop and ponder not only Leonard's existence, but my own...

Please excuse me, I think I have a bit of packing to do.

break the monotony, for pete's sake

2006-12-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

Work is slow as molasses and believe it or not, I have run out of things to "google." It's funny to me as this word is a widely used verb.

Dear blogger, I feel numb these days. I wish I felt a little more passionate about, well, anything. I am not sure what I feel or where I am headed. Kathy's handwriting I have framed as saying, "Cling to what you know, and not what you feel." She wrote this to me during my summer in Zambia, while in the throws of grief and despair and searching for signs of my Creator (I found Him, by the way).

It is now years later, and I am reciting this to myself still.

As mentioned before, I am not exactly busy this day. Earlier, I took a curious look back at blogs past, not sure what I would find. All the way back to February, 2004 when tangosandflowers was birthed. Wow, has it been that long? Time flies, I say. Many twists and turns, victory's and defeats, growth galore... and friend's unmatched.

So I take this prime opportunity to evaluate. Rather than sitting on my arse waiting for the phone to ring and mindlessly surfing the web, I challenge myself to ponder.

What are the things that I know?

I am going to fight any urge to do this methodically, and just let it flow as it will- rhyme and reason set to the side.

1. I am still alive. There must be a reason for that.
2. I am blessed with a partner in this journey that ages like a fine wine, in every way. I still sometimes look at you in total wonder that you are mine.
3. I am still teachable.
4. I continue to be forgiven and redeemed. My God is one of second chances, and I can't fathom how much grace that actually takes.
5. Faith and strong values were instilled in me as a child when I was hardly paying attention. As an adult looking back, I appreciate this more than they will ever know.
6. It really is a rare thing to find true character and integrity in this world that we live in. I know this sad truth, but believe that one day...all will be revealed.
7. Hindsight really and truly is 20/20.
8. Family is THE most important thing. If we can't count on each other, even concerning the hard and "untouchable" things, what's the use? Really.
9. God really does care enough to weave in and out of our lives the hearts that are needed to move us forward. I am eternally thankful and grateful for this truth.
10. All things really do work together for good...(and the important part) for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.
11. Diversity begs to be embraced.
12. Vulnerability does not come as easy as it used to. Help.
13. No mountain is too steep.
14. Moments are so important.
15. Every day is an opportunity.

Thanks, Kathy. I miss you, you know. My life is still carrying on here, and I am remain clinging to the things that I know and walking with that knowledge at a steady pace. Perhaps too steady. Stepping on the gas a bit wouldn't hurt.

a day in the forest

2006-12-13T10:00:00.000-05:00

a few of my personal favorites of the Clarke's big day

2006-12-03T11:21:00.000-05:00

the week that was

2006-12-01T16:36:00.000-05:00

The clock is showing 4:37pm and I am almost free from what us girls affectionately call the "sweat shop" for the weekend. I am exhausted. My thoughts as I embark on 2 days of unscheduled time?

-My house is a wreck.
-My dog is attention deprived.
-My husband probably is, too.
-I need to get into the Christmas spirit.
-That's hard when it's 80 degrees outside on December 1st. Fine if you are in Florida.I moved north for a reason. Seasons are supposed to occur.
It's supposed to get cold again tomorrow.
-We need to get a Christmas tree.
-I hope Theo will not eat it
-Tomorrowwe should do that.
-After cleaning the house.
-We need to go on a date.
-tomorrow?

Various memories of the week:

-News of no babies. That's good for now.
-Monday evening I was working on a recording and got through the 2nd piece and puked all over the place about 10 seconds after the last note.
-Soon after the 1st bout, I ended up lying on the nasty bathroom floor of the academy of music in Justin's lap wishing I could die and come back to life when it was over.
-Finishing the grueling process on Thursday and sleeping well thereafter.
-Standing in the UPS store and asking the guy for the envelopes back, laying my hands on it and praying while he stared.I told him why.Maybe he will remember that?
Small opportunities.
-Hearing the fabulous news that more wedding planning is in the near future, which makes me very excited. Congrats to our dear firends Todd and Lindsey, I love love love you and am so excited for you.

My heart is full. My head and my body are ready to hibernate.

Psalm of the day: "Wait, I say, wait on the Lord." Psalm 27:14

2006-11-21T10:25:00.000-05:00

I survived the ice capades. Made it around 3 times and only fell twice. However, I must confess that there was never a moment where I wasn't attached firmly to another human body, clInging for dear life. That's ok, you know- we all have our issues...Thanks to Justin & Thomas for being my bodyguards, and tripping the snotty kid that rolled by nonchalantly as I was sprawled out on the ice and screamed, " Have a nice Fall?"

Theo is my hero

2006-11-16T10:48:00.001-05:00

Theo was barking his really big & scary bark non-stop this morning as I was drying my hair. I realized that it wasn't his usual random and short lived burst that happens when our neighbor pulls out his motorcycle. This was rediculous, he was barely letting up to breathe! I walked out into the hallway and saw him looking towards the kitchen stove. The hair on his back was raised and he was ready to take action.

Then I heard the whistle of the tea kettle. Since I had the hair dryer in my ear I hadn't heard it at all. I had a good giggle at him taking it so seriously and gave him a big hug and a treat for protecting the Street household. That kettle monster could have gotten me, man!

My hero... I love that kid.

Ice Capades, anyone?

2006-11-14T19:19:00.000-05:00

We have a double date lined up this weekend incorporating my favorite thing: Ice skating. I just LOVE the weightless feel of landing smoothly after a triple axle. It's my one moment where I feel what it's like to be a bird.

Wait, it's not even close to the middle of the list of my favorite things. A triple axle? I can't even do a cartwheel. Trust me, I tried and tried for years. Ask Sarah.

I hate ice skating. I am always afraid of breaking my bloody arm.

The repercussions of childhood trauma, I suppose. Anything involving my legs wobbling on top of 8 wheels or a single blade of metal results in a panicked lump moving slowly up my throat.At this point you can usually find me groping the railing all the way back to the little tiny opening leading back to the bleachers. Ah, the safe haven of bleachers and hot chocolate. OR, I play the whole thing off by becoming the photographer of the winter wonderland of friends and family frolicking on the ice. That gets me off the hook, too.

I may be posting some great pictures of the Ice Capades in the near future.

It's always so darn interesting to me how much we carry our childhood fears and inhibitions into our adulthood. You see, as much as we don't want our pasts to in any way define us, it somehow does. Like the age old fear of us women turning into our mothers the older we get, or even slightly resembling them at all. Then at family gatherings we watch our mother's acting just like our grandmothers. While it may be funny to comment about and have some nice friendly banter, we secretly begin to wonder if it's that obvious with ourselves, or will it be when I am her age?
And why is that the worst possible scenario?

I know there are ways I am just like my mother. I mean, we have virtually the same face; the only difference is that I inherited my dad's skin tone and more of a "Jewett" nose. The rest is obvious. There are similarities in the way we are very detail oriented in some areas- and not at all in others. We love creating comfortable spaces. We love decorating and have the ability to shop until we literally drop. She is an extrovert, I am an introvert. She carries her years of life experience with her as do I, making up quite different perspectives and goals. Ours are very different lives weaved into the same quilt.

How did I get off on a tangent about my mother? Not sure. I believe I have become so much more aware of family and what that means in the past few years. I don't think there is anything more important. Growing up, I tended to be a whole lot closer to my mentors and my friends than my own family. I let these other people see my heart, and my family usually only saw my arse. We tend to take our frustrations towards the world and everything else out on the people the closest to us. That's sad, you know, because none of us are promised tomorrow. I was home not feeling well yesterday afternoon and ended up watching Dr. Phil. There were 2 sisters on there that were so brutal and mean to each other, it was shocking. It made me sad for them, and grateful for the relationship that I have with my sister and my brother.

And so what if I have "Martha" tendencies? At least I will go out in style...

Hey guys, wanna go ice skating over Thanksgiving?

I remember

2006-11-09T11:52:00.000-05:00

So here I am, going through the whole application and audition process again for graduate school.A different school, different degree, different place. I have tried other things, other careers, and now I am back to my original plan I arranged for myself 10 years ago. Am I crazy? I think I may possibly be crazy. I am 27 years old, and I am just now going to try and revive what my heart has told me to pursue since I was 14? Why all the detours? Why now? Why put myself out there? Why do I have a chronic problem asking "why"? What I have lost what I once had? What if I have sabotaged myself? What if I fail? I know I could never live with myself if I don't at least go down fighting-

Perhaps I won't go down at all? I have to at least try.

I feel like I am 7 years old again, waiting to go on stage for the "Little Miss Keystone" pageant at Sunbeam camp. I was scared out of my mind as I walked out on stage ready to sing. The words of the song were:

I am a promise, I am a possibility
I am a promise, with a capital "P"
I am a great big bundle of potentiality
And I am learning to hear God's voice
And I am trying to make the right choices
I am a promise to be,
Anything God wants me to be.

This time I am sure won't end in my tears dropping all over the stage and running off due to overwhelming stage fright. I seem to have gotten over that through the years of forcing myself through it, or perhaps just learned to handle it better.
Nontheless, I feel like that terrified brown eyed girl with the perm and shaky knees again.

Perhaps because I am still that kid, just a lot bigger with a whole lot more baggage, a lot more life experience under my belt, wisdom, regrets, and thankfully a few mustard seeds left in my stash.

I hear a soft whisper.

"My Grace is Sufficient."

Could it be? I am still a promise?

And through it all, I am still yours, God.
Do with me what YOU will.

10.7.06

2006-11-07T09:06:00.000-05:00

It's election day and I am (ahem) wearing red. Haha. That was an accident, definitely an accident. However as I was driving to work this morning whilst being inundated with negative ads for Virginians Thelma Drake and Phil Kellum once again, I realized that I was donning a bright red shirt and had a nice giggle. And no, I had not yet had a cup of coffee.

Since that time this morning, I have since consumed my daily cup of joe, and have already had a healthy political discussion with my fellow cubicle counterparts. I have also been offered stickers and necklaces, reminding Virginians to "Vote no". Apparently, I do not work in "PatRobertsonville" any longer. Otherwise I would be gunned down on my way back to my car tonight. Perhaps.

Which reminds me of something- Sunday morning I was challenged and inspired by what I saw on television. We didn't go to church because Justin was flying to Atlanta (for his grandmother's funeral- which is today- praying for the family) and I had to take him to the airport. So, like a good wife I laid in bed and watched church on TV while he scrambled around looking for ties and socks, etc. Sorry, honey.
I heard a good sermon on being "a chosen generation, a royal priesthood..." I Peter 2:9. It was a good teaching on Spiritual giftings...

When I got home from the airport I was flipping channels again and landed on Cspan,
where Barack Obama was talking about his new book, The Audacity of Hope at Boston University, I believe. I must say, I found myself responding out loud as he answered questions about the book which holds his approach to politics & more. The involuntary response from me wasn't because I am ultra enthusiastic about politics or the like. My attention span is usually about as long as a bobby pin when listening/watching political programming. I mean, I have my views and vote accordingly like any other citizen, but I don't choose to spend my time absorbing political propaganda or debating issues until sunrise.

My father was the one that somewhat introduced the good Senator from Indiana to Justin and I, and told us we should check him out. I have been lately, and especially after seeing that press conference with him, I plan on reading his book in the near future. He made sense.

So, I sat and actually took notes as he spoke. Do you think I miss grad school?
Here I am , taking notes from the TV.... yes, I miss school alot. Anyways, he said some things that have really stuck with me regarding seperating church & state, faith issues, how he approaches the "hot button" issues that dicated the last presidential election, etc, etc.

I think he has a lot of things to say. I think I will listen.

Man, I am long winded today. I still feel like writing.

Justin and I have recently subscribed to Netflix and we are enjoying it immensely. I got a movie in the mail yesterday that was not on our list and yet had my name clearly on it. I was intruiged and opened it up. It was a movie called "Frankie and Johnny are Married" and I watched it last night. It was throughly enjoyable. I can't wait for Justin to see it, I think he will like it a lot. MY question is: Does Netflix have psychic powers and now sends out movies that they know you will love? Or maybe they knew that I wouldn't have anything to watch on TV Monday night due to the Country Music Awards and felt they needed to fulfill their promise to entertain me? I missed that in the advertising. Wow- what's the world coming to. No need for humans anymore. Really.

Ode to Netflix?

Clever marketing- these are just cool

2006-10-31T15:32:00.000-05:00

Experience this

2006-10-26T09:00:00.000-04:00

‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?

You are a child of God, small games do not work in this world. For those around us to feel peace, it is not example to make ourselves small. We were born to express the glory of god that lives in us. It is not in some of us, it is in all of us. While we allow our light to shine, we unconsciously give permission for others to do the same. When we liberate ourselves from our own fears, simply our presence may liberate others.’

- Marianne Williamson in Return to Love: Reflections on a Course in Miracles

We watched "Akeela and the Bee" a few weeks ago, and this quote used in the film was so beautiful and profound, it sticks with me. What a great movie, and so well done.
If you haven't seen it, make sure to add to your Netflix list- or whatever. It's worth it-

Defensive Postures

2006-10-25T10:35:00.000-04:00

I have found myself in a situation I want to run from as fast as I can.
I have a recent history of doing so. I wonder if that is why the doors aren't quite opening for a miraculous act of deliverance, God? Perhaps...

I feel persecuted, misunderstood, taken advantage of, and offended beyond belief by the unethical and immoral actions of people that I spend a good portion of my days with. I want so badly to defend myself and make sure that everyone knows the TRUTH.

I am sure that you know nothing of that kind of feeling, Lord?

Through my thick costume of sarcasm, my heart hurts for them. Through my costume of defeat, my pride suffers like a gaping bloody wound. My innate need for justice wants to shout out. My selfish flesh wants to just vacate the building and wash my hands of the entire place, which of course would include some people that I have come to care about.

I don't know what to say anymore.

And yet the more I talk to you about it, God, the more I begin to see reasons... That hurts, too. I have to ask myself "what matters more?" The child in me wants to throw a temper tantrum. Maybe this is one of those defining decisions in life which begs me choose the path that is slightly more narrow?

I talked with you this morning, and I opened the book on my desk to the page that said "October 25" and I read this:

"I find myself threatened, challenged, and exhilerated by Christ's freedom from human respect, his extraordinary independence, indomitable courage, and unparalleled
authenticity. In preaching the gospel I have been graced to speak fearlessly in the knowledge and conviction that the Word of God must not be fettered, compromised, or watered down; but in my personal life my fears and insecurities lead me voraciously to seek the approval of others, to assume a defensive posture when I am unjustly accused, to feel guilty over refusing any request, to doggedly live up to others' expectations, to be all things to all men in a way that would make the apostle Paul shudder." - Manning, "Reflections for Ragamuffins"

If only my flesh could be banished...then I could be more like you.

Wait, that's the point, isn't it?

sarah & jeff 10.8.06

2006-10-13T17:20:00.000-04:00

A few snaps from the big day

Moments

2006-10-10T10:34:00.001-04:00

So, my baby sister is a married woman. That's just weird. Not a bad weird, a good weird? Booth and I just sat on a hill in the woods in dark silence after the last guest took off and the place was somewhat cleaned. And life continues to change. As always.

We now have a slew of International extended family, and I think that's great. Jeff's family is fabulous. Several hilarious moments and heart to heart talks alike. One of my favorites was when Carly and I were picking up Sarah's wedding dress from the cleaner's in Denton and the lovely lady beind the counter was talking about a yard sale where she bought a cat that looks so real- it's in the window of her car, etc... Carly looks at me and says, " I don't understand a word she just said!" And this was the beginning of the translating back and forth the very different versions of this language we call English. Very funny.

The rain forced us inside for the ceremony, but it was still great and they are still married, so....mission accomplished.

And the fun begins for you, Sarah dear...

congratulations. Now the bets are on as to who's going to reproduce first. Dad isn't getting any younger, you know. He's waiting on a grandchild....you better get to it!

2006-09-29T18:41:00.000-04:00

I have had some of the most humbling moments of my life thus far in the past few weeks. And...although painful, those are always good.

And Jesus keeps reminding me that I need to come to Him by myself...to a quiet place, and get some rest. Get some rest because without spending time in quiet, listening very carefully, there is a danger of making a decision in my flesh and not in His Spirit. OK.

In fact, Jesus Himself never made a big decision without going to a mountaintop, or garden and spending isolated time with His Father first.

So, to the one who saves me, heals me, loves me, and made me....I think it's time I shut my mouth and listened.

california or bust

2006-08-30T18:53:00.000-04:00

Yes, he is something special.

Off to San Diego tommorow to visit my dearest amiga and her little bambino. Can't wait for a few reasons. One being that although I have travelled quite a bit, I have never been outside an airport in Cali. I am excited. A weekend away-

-yes- away from it all.

2006-08-11T10:52:00.000-04:00

Aug 11 is a birthday that I will never forget. My fear in recent months is that he has been forgotten, but deep in my heart I know that can't be true. It just can't.
So...we celebrate tonight. Clay is coming over and we are going to toast on the sand to a life lived to the fullest. We will probably laugh, as we usually do, about the fact that Aaron was buried in Clay's black dress shoes by accident, and though expensive as they were, there couldn't have been a better fate for the black leather kicks.

It's nice having somebody nearby that knew his face and his laugh, his kindness and his smile. Although he will never be forgotten or moved from his permanent place in my heart, it is easy to live this, my own life as a completely seperate and detached one, with all new faces and names,places, new hang outs, cars, homes, friends, jobs, (and most importantly) husband, dog and all. But I have to continue checking myself and retracing the common threads that have come together as one all encompassing journey.

Again, it's nice to have someone, well, 2 someones, around today that can remember with me. It's comforting.

I usually don't get this candid about my feelings regarding this special person that I lost 5 years ago. Very, very recently, however, my spirit has been freed up to do just that. I like that.

Time goes on. It's already Friday of a busy work week. It's already August of a whirlwind year. It goes by fast. How often do we actually think about and assess where we are and how far we have come? How often do we tell the people that have walked through so much of life with us that we love them and wouldn't trade them for all the riches in the world? How often do we take the moments to return favors, and return encouragement, and return praise?
These are the questions I am asking myself as I remember him today.

2006-07-27T09:22:00.000-04:00

My daily reflection with Brennan Manning had my heart screaming "YES" in agreement, while simultaneously whimpering "forgive me for the times that I fail to be like you, Jesus."

Gilbert Chesterton met the question squarely."Christianity has not been tried and found wanting," he wrote. "It has been found difficult and untried." Mahatma Ghandi once said, I like your Christ, but I don't like your Christians." He gave as his reason, " They are so unlike your Christ." Unless and until we have men and women who live by the inner dynamism of the Spirit, human torches aglow with the fire of love for Christ, Christianity will be a musty antique of a medieval past.

Only the Holy Spirit conveys the dynamic character of the moral life and nurtures the willingness to accept initiative. External law had bred a don't get involved attitude. Stressing the mere and minimal fulfillment of precept, it makes Christians cautious about making waves. Just float through life like a majestic iceberg taking no chances. A prominent American churchman remarked recently: " Other people, often not even Christians, are speaking out the sound principles of Christ in the struggle for racial justice more faithfully than we. They are looked upon as fanatics- YET they are doing a very Christian thing- things we should be doing if we see Christ in our fellow man."

What a strange breed of Christianity the law has ushered in! What little resemblance it bears to the Gospel of Jesus Christ!

"So that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." Romans 15:6

I have had some conversations, confrontations, and experiences lately that have
really brought me back around to the basics. I am grateful for this, because I believe Jesus stuck to the basics, and I do want to be more like Him.

Much to my shock, (when I take a look at my life and where I "thought" I would be at the ripe old age of almost 27) I work in the corporate world. Sometimes I stick out like a sore thumb and I cause eyes to roll at times. My boss refers to me as "artsy fartsy" one. I do find this amusing- and sometimes I wonder if God is just having fun with me, seeing how far He can stretch me in this unfamiliar land. The more time I have spent in this environment and getting to know the people around me, I am reminded that everywhere is a mission field, and every action, response, attitude, etc. is an opportunity.

So Romans 15:6 applies. All the time.

2006-07-03T15:22:00.000-04:00

"For Thou art my Hope." Psalms 71:5

In other words, what I hope in can never disapoint me.

What a thought. I need to work on that!

I met a St. Bernard on Sunday named Frank that stole my heart.

I wish Justin would let me get one. I feel like a kid again asking for
a pony. Besides, Theo needs a brother. And that's all we need, is a little
more slobber shooting across the room.

2006-06-26T10:55:00.000-04:00

There are people's names that are mentioned and my heart stops beating momentarily.

This means something. Sometimes it stops for a second and then resumes normal speed.
Other times, depending on the shock of it and/ or the circumstances, the effect on me is longer lasting.

After receiving an email this morning, I feel as though my brain can only function at around 50% capacity because my heart is taking all of the blood flow.

I am affected. My heart can only handle so much.

drip, drip, drip

2006-06-23T23:12:00.000-04:00

My soul has found a tiny little crack where it can leak out.

From the standpoint of someone who's soul has always leaked from a crack that has flowed into a sort of "people approval" vein, a new hole opening up is a welcomed happening. I almost want to jump on the bed in gleeful abandon.

Funny how it has all happened. I started singing again. Because I wanted to. For the first time in my life. I even practice my Bellini aria on my own, not because my teacher is expecting improvement in that measure of hell that needed smoothing over, but because I actually believe in MYSELF, and believe that I actually enjoy it mYSELf enough to work it out and make it happen.

I used to sing for validation. To prove to the world, and more so, myself, that I am worthy. Worthy of what? Beats me. To fulfill a role? To inhabit a place?

So, the pressure got to be too much. The pressure I placed on myself. There was a point when I decided to sing nothing but worship songs. To lead others, to let go and focus my instrument on the worship of God in a certain thread of hymns, psalms, and Spiritual songs. I came to hate myself in the midst, because I was a walking contradiction. Not that I wasn't used or that I wasn't really worshipping the One has given life...but I could not, for the life of me, step away from the fear of being "approved" by others. I bought into the lie that told me it mattered more.
In the midst of trying NOT to forsake HIM, I found yet another way to take the focus off of HIM. Yikes, I am so bloody human.

So I quit. I literally avoided music that made me feel. I lived a music-less life.
And since this was the only way I "thought" that I could let my soul leak out and not get so bottled up that it would explode into 5,000,000 pieces, more of me shriveled up. I walked down the street invisible. A shell of a person. The exact opposite of what I was created to be.

{thank you, Debbie Downer...Let's get to the redemptive part}

So, as I mentioned, I have begun to sing again. For ME, and for the only audience I really could give a rip about is the one who created...me. Quite the cycle, but I feel as though I may be back on track.

This "new" crack is not only welcomed, but so liberating and free. While singing has become a more healthy and freely focused passion, I cannot negate the fact that it is still a "performance art." There will and will always be critics. And no matter what I want to think, my fragile little ego needs to grow much stronger still if I am to accomplish what I am meant to in this field. Dying to self, I suppose? Duh.

Chapter 2

A public thank you to the student at Harrison Arts Center in the year 1994 that sold me their painting. It was a silent auction, and I won! The painting spoke to me, and
although I seem to have lost it somewhere between these 12 years and dozens of moves, I have gone a whole 7 days this week thinking about your painting. It spoke to me... and I remember, I HAD to have it. I remember bidding $15 (all that I had from saving my allowance) and hoping and praying that no one would go higher than me, taking away all of my happiness forever

{melodramatic pause}

That little piece of art hung on many, many of my walls in it's little lifetime. But you, my faceless, nameless friend...That was an expression of you. Thanks for sharing. That painting has been haunting me this last week, in a good way.

Colors. Colors have always spoken to me so much clearer and concisely than words, actions, or even promises. Colors make me dance inside. There is nothing more bleak than a white wall. It says nothing, it proclaims nothing, it bleeds nothing.
I have been playing with color, and with no audience and/or critic, I can be free and create with color what I cannot seem to articulate with a string of words. I do not wish to don the walls of art galleries. I just want to leak out. My soul needs to be released. My insides cannot stand the drought any longer.

I have found in the past few weeks that this release is vital to my being. I know I don't HAVE to paint, but I am truly enjoying it thoroughly. To create and express my heart through color is a truly lovely thing that I don't have to show anybody if I don't want to. I like that. It's my own. I can leak.

Drip.

2006-06-16T15:10:00.000-04:00

"Lead me in a plain path." Psalms 27:11

Some days I'd just like life to be simple.

2006-06-14T08:27:00.000-04:00

"The voice of the Lord is upon the waters" Psalms 29:3

So waves crashing on the shore aren't just waves crashing on the shore.

The Big day

2006-05-30T22:33:00.000-04:00

2006-05-30T22:29:00.000-04:00

vacation 2006

2006-05-27T21:24:00.000-04:00

2006-05-27T21:18:00.000-04:00

2006-05-27T21:13:00.000-04:00

Addendum to "Click"

2006-04-24T00:42:00.000-04:00

It is now approaching 1am and my brain still will not shut off!
After my previous blog and frustrations therein, I decided to implore Google and see what came up when searching "Desperate Housewives + Morality."

What I came across was a site called hollywoodjesus.com, & more specifically a blog by a woman named Melinda. Her words resonated with my spirit, and reading all of the comments and responses were astonishingly challenging.

Go and check it out if you dare here.
Make sure to read all the comments as well.

It really doesn't matter if we agree or disagree. Much like the conversations I have had with my friends in the green room this weekend, it's what we DO when these questions and challenges are posed that matters. We need to get in the Word, and seek our Father's heart ---only THEN will we know how to live out our faith.

What I agree with the most in this write up is this : Having these conversations about these shows that people are inevitably watching is an open door to the road that leads to Christ- the Way, Truth, & Light. What is the answer to all of this?

Jesus.

So... there is not a "redemptive" ending to the episode or the show. As Disciples of Christ, are we then just going to shrug it off and blame it on the writers of the show for not taking us viewers to the finish line? OR are we going to take the torch and run with it- finishing the glorious story of grace and redemption? In our own lives, and in the lives if those that need it desperately?

Will I one day face Jesus and He says to me, "What you did NOT do for the least of these, you did NOT do for me"? That He will say to me, "You did NOT meet these souls where they were and finish my story."

This whole thing was birthed out of frustration this evening. I have, in the midst of frustration, become convicted and challenged. Challenged to be more pro-active. To share what is revealed to me as truth and as opportunity. It's more than a silly TV show, yes. However, if this silly TV show and countless other "silly" things that are relevant to this culture can open a door for me to share the Truth, I will take it. I should be "seeing with Spiritual eyes" the world around me, and RESPONDING accordingly.

Challenged & fired up,

anna

"click"

2006-04-23T21:38:00.000-04:00

If someone were to take a picture of me right now, it would reflect a furrowed brow and possibly pursed lips. Maybe even a "stink-eye"~

I am frustrated. It has been a long weekend of unnecessary loafing and sitting around. Backstage. In the green room, waiting for scene shift announcements. I hate technical rehearsals. I can respect the need for them and understand their importance, however as an actor, it sucks. 13 hours on a Saturday and back again on Sunday is wearing me down.

Besides, Sunday nights are precious times for me. When I am quiet and at home, watching TV whilst doing all kinds of other domestic duties, (yay for multi-tasking) inwardly gearing up for the week ahead. It's literally like an IV being stabbed into my drained introverted personality.

I am not bitter because I was yanked out of my Sunday night ritual. Just frustrated.

What I am equally frustrated at right now are ignorant comments. All I wanted to do was watch what I could of "Desperate Housewives" in the green room, and I got bombarded by "That show is so immoral" and "How can watch that garbage?"

I really don't care that I missed it, because it turned out to be re-run. That's not the point.

I get that we are all on different paths and all have our own personal convictions. But that just screamed IGNORANCE to me. None These tow people have never even sat through an episode to see the show for themselves.

First problem: Regurgitated.

I CANNOT STAND REGURGITATED. Especially when it comes to Christians spouting off at the mouth about moral issues.

Yes. It's ridiculous. Yes, from a very wide and blurry view, the show involves sex and . I just want to ask you to look a bit deeper, or simply watch to the end of an episode!! Never does a mistake happen without a consequence. These characters learn from their screw ups. It is written and executed in a very clever, witty, and satirical way. That's what sucks us in and keep us watching. But... The end never ceases to pose a question to the viewer.

In this post modern society that we live in, the questions need to be asked.

There are numerous opinions, I am aware. This is mine.

2006-04-18T21:52:00.000-04:00

I like grass. I don't know exactly why, but I have always liked grass. Even when it makes your legs itch. I still gravitate towards it.

Today I want to rewrite the entire lyrics of that song by Jewell- what's it called?
The one that starts "It's like rain on your wedding day..." Because, well, life is just one big smelly pile of irony today. Wait, is it called "Isn't it Ironic?" or is that just another line in the song? OH, who cares. I have always found that song to be quite clever, her with her analogies-

NO, really , I have enough to fill up that entire song today. Really.

Do you ever feel so damn misunderstood that you would give anything for a "rewind" button, and right next to that, the big red "ERASE" lever?

I do.

Watched the movie "Capote" the other night. Besides the fact that I totally agree that PSH EARNED the bloody Oscar that is now gleaning his mantle, I haven't been able to stop thinking about one of my all time favorite books for the past several days. "To Kill a Mockingbird." What a great story that we should all read once a year.

I can't dwell in this land right now. On a break from rehearsal. Back to the irony.

I am gonna read that book again on vacation. I owe it to myself.

"Hell is full of musical amateurs."

2006-03-26T20:25:00.000-05:00

This quote by George Bernard Shaw held a mirror up to my pride today.
When I first encountered it, my heart lept in agreeance, because there are moments when I actually think that my personal hell would be this very thing. What a rediculous thought. Who am I? Who gives a flip that my mind has been trained to critique each and every singer I hear?

To my detrement,I am afraid I do. I care. Because when I step up onto my little pedestool I have created for myself and look down on the artistic and musical efforts of others, a strange dichotomy happens. I struggle inside, and my heart hurts. On one hand, I feel as though the years of hard work and dedication to my craft has handicapped me in the area of "grace." Most of the time, it comes so naturally to me to critique and rip apart technique, I don't even realize that I am doing it.And my (dum dum dum) PRIDE wants to defend myself, as if I am justified and qualified to make these judgements. On the other hand, as a follower of Christ, I wish I could throw it all away and FORGET these skills, these habits. Because it really doesn't matter when it comes to living out the Gospel, does it? Or does it?

I mean, why do we work and try to perfect our gifts or our craft? As a Christian,
We do so to glorify God, right? That doesn't shield us from pride, which can be a sneaky, sneaky thing. I realize that these questions and these personal struggles are no new thing, and by no means exclusive to myself and/or music. This is simply the vehicle that brought my heart to a crossroads once again.

Pride. Pride. Pride in what we are good at vs. how to be like Jesus while doing it. It takes so many forms it is mind boggling.

So, because of these inner struggles, I have seemed to have gone to the other end of the spectrum in my life and lived for years in fear of succeeding. In fear of myself.

Is that just as bad?

I am thinking that it is. Either way, it's not giving God the credit, is it?

Yikes.

Ready or not, the rawness of my heart:
I have forsaken my gift. I have tried every medium of sabotaging my instrument, of taking a different path, of succeeding in a career in SALES (hahahahahaha) because I wanted to prove that I can succeed in something completely opposite of what I created to do, etc etc, etc. It's quite funny to me in this moment when I break it down like that.

I started writing this post on Sunday night and here it is Wednesday afternoon and
I am still...well, here. Just checked my MySpace account (no, I am not addicted, it's just fun) and Todd posted a bulletin of a devotional he gets , and ironically (or divinely) it applies:

THE ADVERSITY OF SUCCESS

I've always contended that success is far more challenging than adversity. Adversity is self-evident...you expect it to be tough, uphill sledding. At least, the pace is more manageable. Success is a mountaintop experience that leads to downhill sledding. It seems fun until you hit a rut at break-neck speed. Mount Everest kills far more climbers on the “decent” after a success accent to the summit. Coming down the mountain is far more dangerous than going up. Adversity invariably drives us to the Lord. Success takes us by surprise because it lures us away from God. I'm not suggesting that you make a sacred vow of failure or mediocrity. You just have to be sober, that with money, possession, fame and power comes the gravitational pull away from Christ. It’s no wonder that Jesus says it is as hard for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle as it is for a rich man to get into heaven. Oh, and by the way…wealth isn’t just measured by dollars. Problem is, most of us in America are rich relative to the rest of the world. That's why we pursue God with our whole being, in full stride, not hindered by the baggage of success. Holding on to the cross requires two hands. You can’t hold on to the Cross with one hand, and success (or whatever) with the other. Drop your success (or whatever) and get a two-handed, firm grip on the Cross of Christ Jesus. Give God your success, so it never becomes your treasure. Wherever your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:21). Treasuring success is idolatry…the most abominable sin to God. Treasure God, and nothing else. Most importantly, keep your success to yourself, praising God for helping you conquer a mountain. While on the summit, keep a firm grip on Christ. On the way down, let Him be your guide…He will keep you from falling into a crevasse. Finally, if success leads to financial prosperity, then give more abundantly…sacrificially, and give quietly. Jim Elliott, a missionary to Ecuador said it best, “He is no fool who gives up that which he cannot keep to gain that which he will never lose”. Jim gave his everything, being tragically martyred for Christ in the jungles of Ecuador.

Ok. That helps me sift through all this.

We do walk a tight line. Whether we are artists, sales associates, pastors, secretaries, students, etc , etc, etc..... Bottom line is- humility is not humility if it is false. Taking "pride" in ourselves is not an option. Slander is slander, even if it is cloaked in the elaborate costume of " constructive criticism." Having a high standard for yourself can way too easily be transferred to others, letting pride get a hook in ya.

Working through my mess, and yet clinging to grace,
anna

justin & noah

2006-03-25T17:27:00.000-05:00

The week that was ~ just an update with visual aids

2006-03-25T08:55:00.000-05:00

The week was eventful.

Said "goodbye" to our friends. They are just moving to San Diego,
but that seems really far right now.

This kid makes me happy. Little Noah...

Interviewed for a new position at work. Could be a good thing.

Theo was ...well, castrated yesterday. Poor baby. Walking around bumping into everything with that huge collar thing on his head. Can't scratch, can't play with his paws, or his stitches- that's a good thing. Justin keeps referring to a line from a play written by Kahle, a friend of ours. That "he is now a mere husk of what he once was." And mom talks about it "breaking his spirit..." I don't think so. He will live longer and be healthier. So there aren't "sexcapades" in his future? He'll be alright.

my sweet Theo.

Family news: Booth won the "Billy Graham Evangelistic Award" at youth councils. I am so proud of him. Of course I had to find out from dad. I am so proud of you, my brother. You are having a great year, and you deserve it, baby.

Sarah and Jeff are in Atlanta. Praying for you guys as you keep getting closer to discovering the "right fit" for your future together. Praying for your discernment, wisdom, and open doors. Getting more and more excited about the big day -

Lazy Saturday mornings are nice.

Tomato, Tomaaaahhhhto

2006-03-20T16:21:00.000-05:00

I usually write out my heart on paper a hell of a lot better than actually speaking it, however it seems that I run into similar problems either way with confusing words at times. (I am almost sure that probably 90% of this can be attributed to the pot that was smoked in the bathroom of Lakeland Senior High School back in the early 90's. Consequences... we all have our skeletons)

For instance, it seems as though for a while now I have had the words "masochist" and "narcissist" backwards. I called my husband a "masochist" in error the other day in the midst of friendly banter on the way to pick up sushi for dinner, and he lost it. Belly laughing, so to speak. I was then gently informed of my error. Glad he told me, but secretly wondering how many times I have done that, and how many of my friends just let me get it wrong. Jerks...

So the post I wrote about Theo being a masochist was backwards as well, in case anyone out there was scratching their head wondering what planet I was on, like Justin. I am not going to change it now, it's just too ridiculous. Now you know what my dog is...narcissist. narcissist. narcissist. narcissist.

And even now, after spell checking my post in a fit of paranoia, I have discovered that I always spell ridiculous wrong. Darn. That's years worth, right there.

Stream of consciousness on a Sunday night in March of 2006.

2006-03-19T19:48:00.001-05:00

It has been a while. Not because life hasn't been happening. It has, and abundantly for that matter.

Growing pains, conviction, humbling, opportunity, challenge, relationship, stretching, attack, battle, and victory. Victory, of course, because when walking in obedience, as painful as it can be at times, always ends in an exhilerating victory dance.

So here I exist in my bathrobe this evening, looking forward to each day as a gift and an opportunity, casting off lies, defeat, and discouragement. Even when in the midst of a storm, the "eye" is as peaceful a place that exists.That can only be attributed to one person, and the Creator of the Universe as well as my small peanut-sized life deserves the Glory that it only His.

I am sitting here as I write watching my favorite show on TV, "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." I have a friend that rolls her eyes and calls this show "emotional manipulation..." Well, I am sure there are elements of it that are just that. Now, I can be easily emotionally manipulated, HOWEVER, that seems a minute and insignificant point to me when I actually see real people being touched by the open arms and selfless giving of others. Who cares about the way it is portrayed, filmed, and executed with the soundtrack and tears? I, for one do not. So it makes me cry. So it makes me sad, and it touches my human and fragile side. The fact of the matter is is spins my overstimulated and stressed out brain into a downward spiral, back to the heart of why I exist. The bottom line. Love. What a great way to start a week, in my opinion. It's what I decide to do with what I have seen that matters. I can't help but go to bed afterwards thinking of how I can make a difference in someone's life tommorow. Thinking about how I can love somebody in not necessarily the way I want to or in a way that comes naturally to me, but in the way that will make a difference to them. So, let me be manipulated -- but more importantly, let me be reminded in the midst of this WHY I WANT TO HELP PEOPLE AND LOVE THEM. Not for my own glory, but for the Glory of my Father, who gave me life.

I have been reminded lately of a huge lesson. It is this: The utter importance and value to the Kingdom of sharing my story. Not that "my story" is that significant in itself, but as followers of Christ, our experiences and more importantly, our victorious completion of these experiences serve to edify, challenge, and encourage others. In recent years, I have become deluded into thinking two things on a regular basis. One: That the things I have experienced in my life are to be hoarded and protected by me, because only people that have proven themselves trustworthy would be priviledged enough to know where I have come from. Yikes. The moment I realized the selfishness and ugliness of that attitude was a dark one in which I could only find myself on my knees in repentance. Two: That what I have to share isn't worthy enough to be heard. What a lie! A lie that I bought into and one that kept me from being a light in a dark place. This personal revelation lifted my head from the floor, forced me to look up to Heaven, and ask for the courage to walk in obedience again. To ask for wisdom and discernment and a fearlessness of leaving my flesh behind and simply obeying and allowing the Spirit to speak through my life.

My friend Todd, while walking through the valley himself, boldly yanked me out of my wallowing and proclaimed this to me. He probably doesn't even know it. That' s what is so great about how God works. Despite ourselves! Thank you, my dear, dear friend, for your obedience.

I am in the process of gaining back my existence. My existence in Christ- the reasons why I was created. I will no longer shrink back. I will no longer forsake my giftings. I will no longer try to be invisible. I will no longer doubt my abilities. I will no longer worry about making people uncomfortable by sharing my heart. For I am crucified with Christ, therefore I no longer live. All I can do is obey- and contend, leaving the rest up to One much more qualified to handle it all.

If anybody is reading this little post, and I am not presumptuous enough to think that you are- but just in case, I realize it is personal and is vulnerable. Nevertheless, I am to be transparent; that is who God called me to be. I pray that you will be encouraged in your own journey with God, and if you don't know Him, I pray that you will come into contact with Him soon. I am sick and tired of filtering my heart. Adios to that mentality and bondage.

Sometimes we need to proclaim our victory from the rooftop. As we were talking about this morning at about 3:30 am, hate is contagious- like the freaking plague. We see enough of this epidemic in our country, from those that are lost, and sadly, from those that claim to be enlightened as well. I venture to say that love is even more contagious, more powerful, and spreads faster. I want to be in that camp~

little orange beads ~

2006-02-02T14:38:00.000-05:00

Eating caviar last night left me in a scary place. A place where all I could think about while attempting to peacefully drift off to sleep was tiny orange fish eggs making a cozy home in one of the crevices of my mouth, resulting in little fishies being birthed there.

This panic ensued even after disinfecting my mouth with Listerine.

This is what haunted me in the late hours of Wednesday. I don't think I will partake of this delicacy again. As much as I love california rolls, I am sure they are just as delightful without the tiny orange beads. However, if stringed together on a nice, sturdy thread, they would make a charming little necklace. Then I am sureI would fear them hatching ON me.

Caviar is a garnish, after all.

thelma

2006-01-23T19:36:00.000-05:00

So I learned how to play bridge on Sunday. Because Thelma plays bridge. I like Thelma. And I think I like bridge. I knew I was a closet "old lady."

She is a lot like me, I think. This 50+ character that unexpectedly eased herself into my life. Well, not like me as I am, but me as I could be if I allowed life to live me, rather than me live my life. And I don't want to be playing bridge one day with a bunch of other old ladies and realize that there is more to my life. That I should seize the day. That I should love. And be loved.

I don't want to be transformed THEN , at that age, from hard to softer. I want to be soft now. I want to love now. I want to be loved now.

Thing is, I am loved. How often do I not accept it, though? Too often. There is so much talk about loving, but how can we really love if we don't accept love?

I am excited about knowing Thelma more deeply. Thank you, Shirley, for writing her into your story. I think this is one of those opportunities in life that I have been given for the sole purpose of growing more and more out of the mold I have shaped for myself. The one that needs to be broken. I need to learn from Thelma, therefore providence stepped in and collided us together. Splendid.

I don't believe anymore that "everything happens for a reason." In fact, I think that's a bit of bullshit somebody came up with along the way, making us feel better in whatever circumstance we may find ourselves in at the given moment. I do, however, believe the promise that "all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose." Big difference in my opinion between the former and the latter.

The rubber must meet the road in my life. The time is now, and the day is mine to seize. No more ashes. Much like when I was a child holding a dandelion, I am making a wish--NO-- a declaration. And with a deep breathe and release I will watch those ashes drift away with the breeze. Adios.

Anchors with Issues

2006-01-20T16:01:00.000-05:00

Those of you that aren't on My Space haven't had the priviledge and joy to see this lovely
little piece rediculous-ness. Justin at his finest, people...

http://www.reelgood.tv/filminfo.php?film=105ANCWIS&play=true

2006-01-11T19:42:00.000-05:00

Last night Theo saw his reflection in our bedroom window and freaked out. Barking, then just staring. Masochist.

This morning Theo farted and scared himself with it, going around in circles trying to find the sound that "seemed" like it was coming from his butt.

My dog reminds me of the lighter side of life. Alot like my dear husband.

happy tears

2006-01-10T09:07:00.000-05:00

CONGRATULATIONS JEFF & SARAH -BO!!!
My sister is engaged to be married and I am sitting here giddy...like it's me all over again. I am so happy for you two.
Jeff couldn't be a better choice or a more perfect match for my baby sister.

New York, New York

2006-01-09T22:00:00.000-05:00

New York. One great city. One great weekend + 2 days that were...needed, peaceful, inspiring, challenging, & ..needed. Justin was right.

2006-01-03T08:26:00.000-05:00

December 31, 2005. "Be wise" Psalms 2:10
May this be the year I listen to you more.

January 1, 2006. "Stand in awe." Psalms 4:4
I'll begin this new year filled with wonder just to be alive.

January 2, 2006. "He dealt bountifully with me." Psalm 13:6
If I begin counting my blessings today, I won't be finished until NEXT January.

Barreling forward

2006-01-01T08:43:00.000-05:00

So at about ... 7 of the last 10 second countdown last night to 2006, I panicked. Literally. "I am not ready for 2006, I haven't had a chance to reflect on 2005 yet..."

Happy New Year to all. I need to catch up.

burning question

2005-12-30T09:08:00.000-05:00

Why is that certain people have to deal with the same hardships over and over and over?
I can't help but assume that, like Paul...she suffers with a "thorn in her flesh." Paul's thorn kept him "on his toes" so to speak spiritually as I understand it, and my friend experiences the same...it keeps her broken. I get that. We all have those things in our life that are irreplaceable and yet "ours", but perhaps carry pain with them. I cart along with me certain thorns, that's for sure. Reminders of the journey and the amazing power of God that dug me out of the mud. Things that can be painful, but simultaneously humbling & motivating. The pricking when we shift from one position to another always brings with a sting, that's true. It's a welcomed sting, though...residue of the human condition.

It's still hard to watch someone you love suffer so frequently, you know? I want her to be delivered from it and healed for good. God can do this, of course...but let's be honest... Sometimes he chooses not to for reasons we cannot comprehend. Still believing that she will be whole.. just thinking out loud this morning my burning question. Emily Dickinson once stated, "Dwell in possibility." That serves as a reminder of faith to me, whether or not it was intended as such.

Dwelling is different than groveling.

"Those who dwell in the shelter of the Lord will find safety within his wing..." Psalm 91.

to my friend...safety today.

windows of the soul

2005-12-29T08:00:00.000-05:00

A person, in a real sense, is what he or she sees. And seeing depends on our eyes. Jesus uses the metaphor of the eyes more often than that of the minds or wills. The old proverb, "The eyes are the windows of the soul," contains a profound truth. our eyes reveal whether our souls are spacious or cramped, hospitable or critical, compassionate or judgemental. The way we see other people is usually the way we see ourselves. If we have made peace with our flawed humanity and have embraced our ragamuffin identity, we are able to tolerate in others what was previously unacceptable in ourselves.

"I am sending you to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me." Acts 26:17-18

~ reflections for ragamuffins- brennan manning

This is so true, and has been proven over and over again in my own life. I can look back and see that what my eyes see and perceive has changed over the years, and the battle against being critical, judgemental, and "cramped" has become less grueling the closer I have come to my Father, and yet the battle is by no means over. It's a daily surrender, and a CHOICE to take the fleshy filter off my eyeballs, so that I may see what my creator sees, in others, and also in myself.
The thought of being free of all this is a hope almost beyond my comprehension...but if we were free of the battle, we wouldn't really have to make the daily CHOICE, would we? And thus our will to love and be loved would diminish over time, I am afraid. We wouldn't want to fight to make the choice anymore.
He is a clever and wise one, our Father. He wants us to fight to get closer to him- I think that's what " take up your cross and follow me" is all about. Of course, HE and his love and grace are free for the taking, but we have to battle through all of the obstacles that stand between us to get to Him. I like that. That means I am not just "free loading", so to speak.

Thoughts and convictions...and reminders in an early morning. Thanks, Brennan. I am, in fact, the most ragged a ragamuffin.

anna st.

Christmas snaps

2005-12-28T21:27:00.000-05:00

Christmas snaps

2005-12-28T21:24:00.000-05:00

Christmas snaps

2005-12-28T20:41:00.000-05:00

anna& lindsey's gingerbread brothel

todd & justin's section 8

our neighbor's, Bo & Africa's winter wonderland...putting out
the electricity in P-town

Relationship before task

2005-12-20T17:01:00.000-05:00

"Most people do not listen with the intent to understand. They listen with the intent to reply."

"To listen emphatically is the whole essence of commmunicaton."

Twas in a seminar today about "leveraging differences." Took these two quotes away.
Good stuff.

2005-12-16T18:51:00.000-05:00

I have read alot on the blogs of friend's & strangers alike as well as in publications expository opinions of the church as a whole, where it is going, and the hearts & minds of those in specific denominations. Dialogue always ensues. How do we reach people? How do we move out of tradition and legalism into becoming a living, breathing, walking, talking, and praying church? How do we move out if the political arena and into being salt & light? More and more I find that discussions among friends who are redeemed inevitably circle around to the subject sooner or later.

I don't relate anymore. I have a hard time responding. Not that I don't get it, it's just that there has become this language barrier. My heart is there, but the arena & lingo have changed.

My lack of a church membership in the past year (or so) in conjunction with a strong hesitation to acquiring one has stemmed from these deeply rooted facts: 1. I have no desire to spend my time in a place of worship that runs like a business- and that's that. 2. I have yet to go to a church in the past year ( and we have visited several) where my heart has been at peace on the way out the door, and I have been compelled to return. Simply put, not a one has been the right fit. Until last Sunday.

We have felt a recent pull toward one place, and if it aint the Holy Spirit doing this in both of our hearts, then I don't know which way is up or down. It's the people there that are beginning to capture our hearts. That has always been my prayer, that I will allow what capture's the heart of Jesus to capture my own. My flesh frequently refuses to comply, but thankfully GRACE covers that moment and I get up and try again. I want to walk in obedience, so if this is the right place and the right people, and the place where I am to use the gifts that my creator has given me- than so be it. Still anticipating a confirmation verbally and in my spirit for the answer.Ever since I read a certain post on my friend Desmond's blog a while back, my heart has been convicted and stirred to get up and use what I have been given. So, this is what I seek.

A song just came into my heart, written by one of my personal "heroes" in my life. The lyrics are , "Only this I ask, only this I seek, that I may dwell in His house all the days of my life....that I may see the beauty of the Lord.." perhaps this "detox" (as Justin puts it) we have been through has taught me most of all that HIS house is not a place we go on Sunday mornings, but it is a state of being. Some people don't need such a dramatic sabbatical from corporate worship to learn this fully, but I am afraid I did. If I had kept going in the direction I was, I fear I would have been lost indefinitely. And furthermore, this season has been one of the most spiritually free and liberating times of my entire life. I have learned to worship without song, and without being in front of a crowd. I have worshipped in silence by myself. I have worshipped in groups of laughing friends. I have worshipped reading His word, and driving my car. I have worshipped ...and I want to live my life worshipping in wonder. I needed this drastic lesson.

So that the next time I commit myself to a body of believer's, I will go worship and fellowship because I want to and LONG to with every fiber of being. That's why. No interest in faking it.

One day I woke up and found myself in a tightly wound caccoon , unable to escape and unable to decipher what was real and what was not. Now I know. There is no better place to be.

Petitioning prayer for direction & discernment,

anna st. ~

the "other" space

2005-12-14T12:04:00.000-05:00

I was coerced by my lovely, persuasive friends into creating a "My Space" at http://www.myspace.com/tangosandflowers This was after much hesitation on my part. Wasn't really interested. Blogger was enough of a web presence for me. And for someone who at times has a deep hatred for all things electronic, blogger was a big step.

Alas, I stand rebuked. What a cool site. Do you know that within 3 days I have been reconnected with several people I have lost touch with over the years? I am talking high school - 9th grade, NCSA, & Asbury. People that have remained in my heart all these years and I have wondered what has become of them. I look forward to re-connecting. Memories have been flooding back these past few days of great times- it wasn't another life, it was just 10+ years ago.
So, to Steph, Mandy, Sara, Bee, Christie, Haley~ it's good to see you again. Really good.

2005-12-11T19:53:00.000-05:00

divine intervention - just what I needed today

2005-12-09T12:27:00.000-05:00

Directionally-challenged may be an understatement to describe my condition. Perhaps compass-impaired or spatially-disoriented would be more accurate.

As a child, my sense of direction was so predictably wrong that when we were lost on a road trip, my mother would ask what direction I felt was right and take that as a cue to go the opposite way. As a college student I lost my car at a mall. After hours of searching I frantically called my parents who calmly instructed me to rent a taxi…and drive row by row until the wayward vehicle was found. As an adult, I missed the turn going to my house and did not start wondering why the 20 minute drive was taking 90 minutes until I saw a sign which read, “Entering Mark Twain National Forest.”

Given my history you can imagine that walking in the woods for me takes the courage of Indiana Jones. This is a serious endeavor which requires intense concentration. Where other friends gifted with interior homing beacons stride out in confidence, I carefully examine my surroundings, attempt to find points of references, and then make every effort to stay on the path.

Which brings me to a simple but very personal assortment of thoughts about physical (and spiritual) paths:

~Many see the path, fewer take the path.
~Once selected, paths do not keep you, you keep to them.
~Paths are easier to identify when you STAY on them.
~Though a path seems clear when you are on it, each step taken away from it exponentially increases its obscurity.
~If you lose your way, don’t sit there like an embarrassed tree stump, start screaming at the top of your lungs for help.
~Always remember, being lost is serious stuff.

Though spatial-disorientation doomed my fleeting childhood ambitions of becoming a forest ranger, it has served to emphasize the importance of finding, enjoying, and not straying from God’s good path. His path—and only His path—leads to Eternal Life.
guidance for reflective journaling

One ~ For every soul there is a path called obedience which leads all closer to the heart of God. Spend a few moments describing the path that God has set before you. Does it seem poorly lit or clear? Uneven or level? Spacious or narrow? Lonely or comforting?

Two ~ Disappointment, pain, greed, loss, cravings…many voices invite us to stray from God’s path. But no matter how difficult our path may be, God’s path is always the safest place for His children. Each step away from obedience obscures our vision and makes finding our way back home more difficult. In prayer, talk honestly with Father God about any voices you are tempted to listen to that would cause you to entertain departing from the path of obedience.

Three ~ Recommit your entire self to pursuing God’s path of obedience. Consider Psalm 25.4-5

"Show me Your ways, O LORD;Teach me Your paths.Lead me in Your truth and teach me,For You are the God of my salvation;On You I wait all the day."Psalm 25:4–5

~alicia britt-cole

2005-12-09T11:47:00.000-05:00

Lindsey's shindig
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangosandflowers/sets/1543674/

strikes

2005-12-05T16:24:00.000-05:00

So the game was this: bowl strike and strike a pose. Check em' out- there are some doozies:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangosandflowers/sets/1461192/

2005-12-02T16:48:00.000-05:00

So I walked into the office this morning and ran into my boss, wearing the exact same
sweater as me. How charming.

The Streets are here for the weekend. Theo will never be the same.

Did anybody tape the finale of the "Biggest Loser"? I missed it... :( Will pay for shipping-

6 minutes until the weekend. Praise God.

2005-11-27T20:59:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving 2005 at CWJ was great ~ although over in a flash, as usual. Highlights were:

1. Needham's & Jewett's together again in their entirety (with a few additions since...1992? I am trying to remember the last time this happened? )
2. Rex & Carly - the cutest kids ever
3. Harvey & Theo and their shenanigans
4. Singing "Travel along in the Sunshine" around the Thanksgiving dinner table as Meemee led us-
5. Christopher video taping himself telling what he is thankful for
6. Sheri learning , and losing poker after a valiant effort
7. chocolate pie & yams

2005-11-23T11:41:00.000-05:00

"Don't throw stones if you live in a glass house," I overheard the wise woman saying.

boomerangs & other unlikely gems

2005-11-20T15:23:00.000-05:00

I have always been drawn like a magnet to people who are unapologetically themselves. This, by definition, makes them unique. No pretense; they are who they are, with their quirks and all. Nothing is more attractive, appealing, nor desirable in my humble opinion! At first, anyways. Later comes the indescribable stuff, when you really get to know someone, and you begin to uncover what lies deep in their soul...in their hearts. However, what remains the same is the state in which you met them, the moment when you were blessed enough to have found them just as they were. At this point is when your eyes start opening and you can learn.

I sound like a manual of sorts. Oops! I have to say , going through this journey of discover with someone is by far one of the greatest pleasures we have as humans. My favorite part always remains the initial ...wonder.

Karen. A middle aged woman who sits caddy - corner of me at work. She is a wonder to me. Ever since she wore the pirate costume on Halloween, she has been making these noises every so often. "Aaaarrrggggg," she growls as I stifle a giggle. Her, with her vocabulary filled with words such as "snafu" and "lolligag" is a wonder. She has a servant heart and a sweet, sweet spirit. I can learn from her.

Michael, on the other side of me. The other day he walks in to work after locking up his bicycle, and proceeds to pull none other than ..boomerangs out of his backpack. Many, many boomerangs. Who knew? He then proceeds to tell me of boomerang competitions that he attends. Again, who knew that this quiet guy who tends bar in the evenings, eats a lot of hot and sour soup, sneezes a lot, and lives in our old neighborhood collects boomerangs and competes with them? After another brief encounter with Michael, I found that he just moved back here a few months ago from Germany where he helped to pilot the very first jazz radio station there. My interest has just exploded at this point. What a character. Justin tell me to "stop staring" a lot, and Caroline now has jumped on board, reminding me not to stare at Michael. I'm not staring, per say, I am just in awe. I can't help it! Michael, is a diamond mine, in my opinion. I can learn from him. Michael ...is a wonder. I can learn from him.

Then we have Noah. This creature that had only been out in the world for a few hours on Friday when I had the pleasure of holding him in my arms ... staring again, of course. In mind- stopping awe. When everything goes blurry like in the movies except his little face and wiggling fingers and toes. The yawns, and the sneeze, even the poop is simply...a miracle. The little juicy lips and the big eyes...I can already tell he will be an expressive communicator like his mommy, and by his lack of screaming I can tell he will be kind and gentle like his daddy. Noah, it was a pleasure meeting you, and your "Auntie Anna" can't wait to finger paint with you. I can learn from you, dear Noah.

Wonder. May we look at each other with wonder and appreciation. If I did more of this, my heart wouldn't have room for the nasty things that the Enemy tries to sneak in. The things that God did NOT intend for me, for us. Our hearts would be so full of awe in how he made us all, we would be filled to the brim and overflowing with nothing but love! I think that was part of his plan - He has made it easy for us. Like " How to be like me - for Dummies." If we could only open our eyes a little wider and see one another...and the wonderful joy and priviledge that truly is.

2005-11-18T16:26:00.000-05:00

Noah Dustin Rowe was born today- 8lbs and 3 ounces. Going to meet him in a few. Can't wait! Poor Rowe, she has been through it the past few weeks. Glad he is finally here.

Ever have so much going on (schedule wise and also internal) you can't seem to express it?

Maybe it will thin out and clarity is on the horizon.

Red Bull?

2005-11-01T21:38:00.000-05:00

In Atlanta for a few days with Justin's family. Pa Street went to see Jesus peacefully in his sleep, and for that we are grateful. Tomorrow we celebrate a life lived to the fullest. I have to be honest and say I am glad that we are not celebrating a life lived for the Lord with a "but" attached at the end... again. Such as, "but he had so much ahead of him" or " but she was only a kid" or even, "but why did she have to suffer so?" These departures have been far too frequent. Thankfully, Otis lived a vibrant and long life. Although the prospect was there, he didn't have to suffer for long, and he was ready. That's awesome. It is probable he is playing the ultimate game of golf he always dreamed of...

Being in Atlanta is sort of surreal. Driving down 85 looked so different. New signs, new buildings, new billboards...Twas another time...why is it that we have moments where it feels like we have lived several lives, and connecting the dots seems almost impossible? Weird, I tell ya. Hard to believe it was even me that lived, worked, and walked the sidewalks of this campus daily.
There are many many memories attached to this city.
I plan to get some Mo-Joe's wings down the street, even if I have to sneak it~ it has been way too long ~ the depravity is over...

I hope we can see some of you cool cats that we miss so much, even for just a moment.

To drastically change the subject, anyone drink Red Bull out there? I have never given these energy type drinks a second thought, even though I have taken my share of Vivarin back in the college days. Anyways, Red Bull can't be good for ya. I was sitting in this exhaustingly boring corporate training at work on Friday, and we began the day by introducing ourselves and giving everyone else a glimpse of who we are ~ and there is this woman, Tina. She is from new Jersey and she looks....well, tired. Coming straight from pharmaceutical sales and marketing, who wouldn't be? Come on now, all that time and energy spent robbing the American public en mass? Sorry- that's a whole different subject.

Back to Tina ~ she proceeded to tell us that she is addicted to caffeine, and her favorite dessert is beer and red Bull. Ok~ whatever, dude. At 11:00 we took a break and there I sat, watching with my mouth gaped open as she proceeded to pull not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Red Bulls out of her purse and set them in a line in front of her binder like these shots were about to go down. And that they did. By the time the break was over all four of them were empty aluminum cyllinders sitting like trophies of alertness on the desk in across from me. Wow. The thing is, she didn't look that alert. Or awake for that matter. I am worried about her heart. it just may explode. For some reason I can't get Tina and that little episode out my mind.

To addictions ~ may we kick them to curb and be free for good.

2005-10-24T17:50:00.000-04:00

Well, seems we are getting a tiny taste of Wilma up here, I am sure not even close to what people in Florida are experiencing. All these hurricanes....Justin wants "comfort food" for dinner, whatever the heck that means. I suppose that means hot , fattening cuisine that sticks to your bones...? Poor guy's been out in the cold wet rain all day. That's the least he deserves. Nothing screams pasta or chili or soup like a cold rainy day. Just thinking through my options.

It's been nice these past few weeks, us being home together every night. I know it's not going to last forever, but I am savoring it while I can.

There is a glimmer of a chance that I may have the priviledge of witnessing the miracle of child-birth in the coming days. My thoughts (and my stomach) jumped back and forth all day from excitement to nausea. How awesome would that be? Hope I can handle it if I do in fact, get the opportunity.

Theo is barking at me and the Dell, and I am ignoring the piercing noise. Seems to be the only method that works. Can't say I won't be a tiny bit happy about the puppy growing out of him.
Every post lately has included Theo, hasn't it? Oh, well...he's a Street now, I must include him and his daily escapades.

Intercession calls me today. Lori, Rhonda, Otis, Street family, Booth. Mockabees. Rosita. All dealing with loss of some kind. You are their comfort and their help. You are their refuge. Draw them close. Let your love surround them.

2005-10-22T18:45:00.000-04:00

"I took off my pity party dress and I don't dance no more..." ~ antigone rising

Gratitude

2005-10-21T15:15:00.000-04:00

Over the past week, I have had 4 different people approach me and tell me that I am "glowing." One person said they have never seen me looking this content and happy.

No, I am not pregnant, this is not the reason for it. And it's not the puppy, because the amount of poop I have to clean up on a daily basis keeps me from remaining "sparkly" ~ although I love the furball immensely.

I am, however, at peace. The comments do make me wonder what I must have looked like before...but I can't dwell on that, can I? The truth is, the past 5 or so years of life have been chock-full of growing pains and birthing pains that although hurt like hell, haven't killed me. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger..." Although incredibly cliche, it is a true statement.

I AM content. I AM free. I AM peaceful. I am in a good place right now. In a job that keeps me on my toes and does not allow complacency. I am surrounded by a diverse group of people that challenge my faith and give me opportunities to share HIM- my all. I am not stuck in one network, but have established relationships with people of polar sides of the spectrum. All of which can teach me so much more..I have always dreamed of this. Now I must be faithful, a good steward of what has been given to me.

I sort of wonder why it is that we all thrive in different atmospheres. I have always felt displaced in a certain type of environment. And on the other hand, I always have thrived in a particular environment as well. I don't know if God has done this on purpose or not, but I feel like I have finally served my time and learned what I needed to learn to be set free in the world where I am to make the most difference. Does that make sense? I am sure that some would disagree with my logic, but my journey can only be traveled by me, can't it? I know that feelings aren't all that matter, but when such an emotionally - charged person like me can finally FEEL what she knows to be true, the sky is the limit. Flying is the only method of travel.

So, apparently I am glowing. What is in my heart in displayed on my face. All I can ask now is that you USE me.

I want to live my life with a spirit of gratitude.

kicks and giggles

2005-10-20T18:28:00.000-04:00

2005-10-13T17:46:00.000-04:00

Theo likes cat food. Go figure.

Do you like me? Check yes or no or maybe in the middle...

2005-10-11T19:54:00.000-04:00

The last thing I ever want to be is a walking contradiction.

What do I believe, why do I believe it, and do I act like it?

Examples: from the rediculous to the more rediculous- stick with me.
Disclaimer: these are not true stories.

1. Outward proclamation: "I only eat organic, whole foods."

Inner monologue: "Whatever you do, don't look in my freezer, because you just might find the plethora of frozen, processed cuisine in my possession, bought with my money, often frequenting the warm, cozy oasis of my stomach."

2. Outward Proclamation: "I am very politically active and among other things, I vote and stand for the cause of the poor people of this country.

Inner monologue: "I hope that bum walking towards me doesn't say anything to me. He smells." OR, "I would NEVER live in that neigborhood, those people are ghetto."

Given, these are simply random scenarios I am offering at this juncture. However they uncover, at least in me, the contradictions that creep up and out of my own mouth. What are they and how can I more solidify my "yes" and "no"? More importantly, how can my "yes" reach out and love someone, and how can my "no" become a challenge with eternal implications? Or vice versa?

I think we all contradict ourselves from time to time. Perhaps because we simply changed our mind from the first time we declared our thoughts (mind you, this is coming from a chic who changes her bedroom decor with the seasons). Or perhaps we were even proven wrong (dum dum dum) and gained more wisdom from somewhere and humbly changed our stance due to revelation. Praise God for the latter, eh? I love it when that happens. Means we are changing. Hopefully more into the image of our Maker.

So, the good news is we can turn the baby food consistency of contradiction into solid, healthy nourishment. The key ingredient is ... clay.

stay at home doggie mommy

2005-10-10T14:24:00.000-04:00

I realized this morning that I would be a great stay at home doggy-mom. After spending the monsoon of a weekend at home with Justin and our little furball, getting up this morning and having breakfast with Clay, going grocery shopping, and rushing home to clean up the bio-waste that was invetitably on my floor, I found I was at peace with the domestic life.

One day off of work and I am transformed. Right. Reality is, I would suck at being a stay -at-home mommy of anything. I am actually just enjoying my two days off of the daily grind before journeying into the unknown. My last day in "cubicle-hell", as I have often referred to my former (that feels good to call it former) job was on Friday. I start anew at The Virginian Pilot on Wednesday morning with a fresh resolve - to stretch and grow, and settle for nothing but the best that I have in me. That's what the season I am embarking on holds. I am sure of it.

Not that I don't value the last year or so of my life. Of course I do. What I have learned has proven invaluable to me as I move forward now. Funny, I remember having the same thoughts when I started my old job. If we can't look back and see how we grew and how our experiences prepared us for now, what's the use? If what we are beginning to climb today isn't a mountain bigger than the last one, we are cheating ourselves...stunting our growth, so to speak. So, I stand at the base of this new mountain, looking up and wondering what adventures it holds. I don't look up and wonder how I will survive the hike as I have in the past, because I know now. I look back at those tiny hills and laugh with joy at how far I have come. Free of fear, I lunge forward with gusto.

I am sitting here looking over at Theo, stretched out on the floor for his bi-hourly nap. These are the things we have learned about our little Theophilus (which means "lover of God" in case you were wondering) in the week he has lived here:

1. He sleeps. And can't be bothered when that is next on the agenda...like me. Priortities!
2. Likewise with playing... Justin.
3. He digs Classical music, and prefers opera...take a guess. We sat on the floor this morning and listened to Renee Fleming in awe together, leaning our heads to the right at just the precise time. In was a special moment.
4. He is a fan of "Lost" and "Desperate Housewives" too. Well, it is a pre-requisite.
5. He is on the accelerated potty training track.

He's the perfect addition to the Street family. Adds a special touch of not only poop, but fuzzy, cuddly lovin'.

The time has come to potty...outside. Adios for now.

Nothing like being a doggy mommy.

Amazing Grace

2005-10-06T11:28:00.000-04:00

My God is so revelant.

Last weekend, just before we embarked on our journey to the middle of nowhere, South Carolina, I noticed a book on one of Nicole's bookshelves that looked interesting. I grabbed it and ran out the door. I proceeded to read aloud the first three chapters to Justin on the first leg of the trip, and we just sat there and let it soak in, pondering the thoughts of Kathleen Norris in her book, Amazing Grace- A Vocabulary of Faith. The last chapter struck us both as so utterly relevant to the discussions we have been having with each other, as well as the recent posts from Phil regarding the definition of a covenant.

I desperately want to type out the whole chapter...at least for you to read , Phil. Perhaps only a few excerpts. We'll see. It is entitled -

Inheritance : A Blessing and a Curse

Human inheritance is both a blessing and a curse. And in religious inheritance this paradox is acute. For many of us religion is heavy baggage. Stories of love and fear, liberation and constriction, grace and malice come not only from our own experiences, and our family's past, but from an ancestral history within a tradition. What curses do we need to shed, in the process of growing up? What can we hold to, as blessing? My inheritance, my story, is of protestant Christianity- Methodist, Congregational, and Presbyterian- whose roots lie deep in Judaism . And in recent years the Benedictine monastic tradition has given me an expanded sense of my Christian roots. To me, these monastics represent my deep heritage, the ancients, my ammas and abbas in the faith, who reflect a time when Christianity was neither Orthodox nor Protestant, but simply was.

And is. I find it a blessing, now, to be able to invoke the saints who have formed me a beloved grandmother, say, as well as Saint Paul, St. Benedict, St. Therese of Lisieux. I am blessed to be able to enjoy the worshipping assembly of any Christian church as including both those present and absent, both the living and the dead. When I come to the end of the Apostles Creed, they are all there, in the "communion of saints." Those who have helped me to be, and those who have helped to being me to this place of song and story, worship and praise.

But it's far less pleasant - it can feel like a curse- to include in my welcome the difficult ancestors: the insane, the suicides, the alcoholics, the religiously self-righteous who literally scared the bejesus out of me when I was little, or murdered my spirit with words of condemnation. Abel is welcome in my family tree, but I'd just as soon leave Cain out. Yet God has given me both, reminding me of that line in Psalm 16,"welcome indeed the heritage that falls to me," can be a tough one to live with. If, as Paul says, "all things work together for good for those who love God" (Rome 8:28), then in giving me a mixed inheritance, both blessing and curse, God expects me to make something of it. Redeem the bad, and turn it into something good. And if I must start with my roots, with where I have been placed in my family, my marriage, culture, and religious tradition. But the urge for denial is strong. And when something feels like a curse, when it doesn't correspond to who I'd like to be, it is tempting to try to simply toss it out. I might hire someone to channel my personal angels, or purchase and Indian name from a company in California. I might look into my "past lives" and discover that I was, as some now claim to be, an Indian in a former life. The religious marketplace is full of spirtualities that can costume us in fancy dress.

All or any of this may be therapeutic, but therapy is not the purpose of religion. Nor is feeling so special that one is able to boast of a contact with the spiritual world that most people lack. Christians often speak of having a call to a particular form of ministry. But from the days of the earliest churches,it has been brought to our attention that this is mostly a matter of pedestrian inheritance.

When Paul, in his first letter to the members of the church in Corinth, ask them to "consider your own call", he emphasizes that "not many of you were by human standards,not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth." Declaring that this is for the very reason that God chose them, so that "no one might boast in the presence of God (1 Cor. 1:26,29), Paul makes it clear that if we take inordinate pride in the spiritual gifts we have been blessed with, the joke is on us.

Like so many American children of the 1950's, I played Cowboys and Indians. In my grandparents house, the house I now live in, are the early artifacts of the television cowboys that spurred us on: a "Matt Dillon, US Marshal" pin that reads on the back, "CBS 1959." A card from a savings bank, containing Hopalong Cassidy's Secret Code. I have long suspected that our games always had more to do with dreams of riding on horseback through open spaces, free of parental interference, than with race or denomination. And we have also to consider the timelessness of the childhood imagination--a few years ago, when I walked past a group of kids playing in my neighborhood, a little girl pointed to one child who was dragging a big, leafy branch behind him and roaring mightily. She explained to me, "we're playing Cowboys and Indians, and Andy is the dinosaur."

Play is an important part of human development, but some games are meant to be outgrown. We are fortunate, as adults, if we can trace what we hold scared back to our childhoods, to our "original vision," a phrase coined by he English writer Edward Robinson for the title of his thoughtful book on children's religious development.But in order to have adult faith, most of us have to outgrow and unlearn much of what we were taught about religion. Growing up doesn't necessarily mean rejecting the religion of our ancestors, but it does entail sorting out the good from the bad in order to reclaim what has remained viable.

It's a balancing act: to recognize the blessings, even the ones that come well disguised, in the form of difficult relatives who have given you false images of Jesus with which you must contend. And it means naming ad exorcising the curses- not cursing the people themselves, who may have left you stranded with a boogeyman God, but cleansing oneself of the damage that was done. The temptation to simply reject what we can't handle is always there; but it means becoming stuck in perpetual adolescence, a perpetual seeking for something, anything, that doesn't lead us back to where we came from.

When I see teenagers out in public with their families, holding back, refusing to walk with mom and dad, ashamed to be seen as part of a family, I have to admit that I have acted that way myself, at times, with regard to my Christian inheritance. A hapless and mortally embarrassed adolescent lurked behind the sophisticated mask I wore in my twenties: faith was something for little kids and grandma's, not me. I lived for years in a sublimely sophisticated place, the island of Manhattan, and the thought of crossing the door of any of the thousands of churches there did not occur to me. I suspect that it's only because I so blindly and crazily embraced my inheritance- leaving the literary world in New York City for a small town, the house my mom grew up in,the church my grandmother belonged to for sixty years--that I am now glad to identify myself as an ordinary Christian, one of those people who, to the astonishment of pollsters, still totter off to church on Sunday morning. It's been a lively journey. And I am still the same person who departed, so long ago, and not the same at all.

Storytelling is the way I've sorted through all this, and tried to make sense of it. I continue to be amazed at how long it takes me to figure things out, how long to tell it. Other people's stories of religious inheritance have long attracted me, partly because I learn from them how individual experience can be made meaningful to others, so that it does not remain exclusively private or personal. When I think of recent books that have mattered to me, that have conveyed useful messages concerning inheritance and conversion, I think of Nancy Mair's stunning Ordinary Time, which related hMer conversion to both Catholicism and feminism. And I think Roberta Bondi's Memories of God, in which she speaks with great affection od her Baptist aunts, including one who entertained Sunday School children by reciting the names of the books of the Old Testament in one breath. But she also unravels for her adult self exactly what was wrong with the revival -style theology that frightened her as a child, which sums up "only believe that God loves you or he'll send you to Hell forever." Bondi's book also contains the best contemporary reflection that I know of on the image of God the Father. As a feminist who is also a patristics scholar, Bondi realizes that she cannot simply excise the image of the Christian lexicon, as some feminists try to do. Instead, she begins praying to the Father in her personal devotions and to her astonishment finds that the practice leads her to a reconciliation with her own father, with whom she had always had a tense and difficult relationship.

A book that epitomizes what it means to come to terms with religious inheritance as both blessing and curse is Phil Jackson's Sacred Hoops. He is best known, of course, as the coach of a basketball team, the Chicago Bulls. But when a friend gave me the book, she suggested that I would find interesting as reflection on religion. And she was right. Jackson was raised in North Dakota, by parents who were Pentecostal preachers. And his story is that of someone who realizes, early on, that he doesn't belong in his religious tradition but must find another way.

The best thing about the book (to me, that is; I didn't understand most of the basketball stuff) is the loving way in which Jackson speaks of his parents, and the respect he conveys for their faith, while acknowledging that he felt placed in a religious tradition in which he was destined to feel displaced, as the gift of tongues never came to him. The pain is there-- he tells of coming home from school one day to find his mother gone, which was so unusual as to put him in a panic. He assumed that what Pentecostals term the Rapture - the sudden appearance of Jesus to herald the end of the world- had occurred, and that he was left behind. The pain is real, but Jackson writes as a grown-up who has come to terms with it, so that love, not fear, prevails. He began using meditation techniques as a high school athlete, which led him to a serious study of Buddhism. Now, it seems, the Buddhist practice has led him to a new understanding and appreciation of his Christian inheritance.

I doubt that Jackson has often been compared to Emily Dickinson- I think she would rather enjoy it- but when I read his book, I was reminded of her painful experience at Holyoke Seminary, when she first began to discern the extent of her difference from her friends. The worship there was a part of what scholars now call the Great Revival, and often had a highly emotional pitch. Girls were asked to stand, or come forward, as a sign that they declared themselves for Jesus. But at one such meeting, Emily Dickinson, age sixteen, was the only one left seated after the altar call. She sums up the experience in a flinty remark: "They thought it queer I didn't stand. I thought a lie would be queerer." Describing the experience to a friend (sadly, I believe, but also with a sharp critical eye), she vividly portrays the alienation that a sensitive, thoughtful person can feel during the enthusiastic worship of the Christian assembly. " What a strange sanctification is this- that brings Christ down, and shows him, and allows him to select his friends!" Her exclusion from the fold of those who had converted to Christ was the first great exclusion of a life that would have many.

In many ways Dickinson epitomizes the range of blessings and curses that it is possible to have in one's religious inheritance. She also evinces what it can mean to take it all and make something of it. Through her poetry she became a Christian contemplative, meditating on the crucifixion as few poets have done. Even though the revivalist Christianity of nineteenth-century Amherst was not large enough to contain her, and she stopped going to church in her thirties, the Bible did have room for her, and she explored it freely. It permeates every poem, every letter that she wrote.

The word "curse: does not appear in Dickinson's poetry, but she often wrote of pain. In her poem, "A great hope fell," she writes:

A not admitting of a wound
Until it grew so wide
That all my life had entered it
And there were troughs beside

A closing of the simple lid
That opened to the sun
Until the tender Carpenter
Perpetual nailed it down

Reading that poem, I think of a friend, a Benedictine monk, who in his early thirties begin to recognize that he had been sexually abused by a priest as a teenager. Previously he had adopted a typically adolescent form of denial and seen the experience as evidence of his own precociousness, and even sophistication. But in working with victims of sexual abuse, he began to understand what happened to him and began to tell his story. First to a psychiatrist, then to his monastic community, and finally to other victims of abuse by priests. Over time, his dreadful pain over the irretrievable loss of innocence began to be converted into a blessing for other people. As someone who had been abused by a priest, and had himself become one, he found that he had something to say, both to victims and to priests who were seeking to understand and avoid the abuse of priestly authority.

Converting a painful inheritance into something good requires all the discernment we can muster, both from what us within us, and what we can glean from mentors. The worst of the curses that that people inflict on us, the real abuse and terror, can't be forgotten or undone, but they can be put to good use in the new life one has taken up. It is a kind of death; the lid closes on what went before. But the past is not denied. And we are still here, with all of our talents, gifts, and failings, our strengths and weaknesses. All the baggage comes along; nothing wasted, nothing lost. Perhaps the greatest blessing that religious inheritance can bestow is an open mind, one that can listen without judging. It is rare enough when we recognize it in another when we encounter it. I often see it in people who have attained what the monastic tradition terms "detachment," an ability to live at peace with the reality of whatever happens. Such people do not have a closed off air, nor a boastful demeanor. In them, it is clear, their wounds have opened the way to compassion for others. And compassion is the strength and soul of a religion.

Man, that was a lot of typing. Worth it, though. I hope that if anyone else reads all the way to the end of this that they will have a lot to chew on, as I did. Food for thought -

a slice of wisdom from Charlie

2005-10-05T11:30:00.000-04:00

The following is the philosophy of Charles Schultz, the creator of the "Peanuts" comic strip.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winner for best actor and actress.

How did you do? The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Acheivements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners. Here's another quiz.

See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

The lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.

"Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It's already tomorrow in Australia." (Charles Schultz)

Going home...

2005-10-03T10:28:00.000-04:00

I wish I could be there to say goodbye.

You brought such a unique joy to our lives, bringing unexpected laughter at just the right moments. You posessed a quiet strength that was not always transparent, but unfaltering. You leave us with good memories, most if not all bringing a smile and laughter to our hearts and faces. It's hard to imagine you are gone. You, my friend, will be missed greatly.

You are dancing with the author and the finisher of our faith. It can't get better than that. Can't wait to join you there.

"...face to face, how can it be? "

Peace that passes understanding to your family and your wife who are experiencing the deepest lost.

Goodbye, friend.

theo street

2005-10-03T10:24:00.000-04:00

abstract morning vision

2005-09-30T09:05:00.000-04:00

Miscommunication can put hearts through a paper shredder if the Enemy gets a foothold. Hearts that had a chance, and yet in the long aftermath of the battle the future of connection is grim. And yet we move on, God redeeming all that is lost. He is so good at that.