)
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
what I've been up too...
I left the U.S. Feb 13th but arrived in France on Valentine's Day. I think the correct term is “lugged” two giant suitcases across the world and I was overjoyed to meet Candide, Dan, and Tim at the train station in Grenoble. We all ate Raclette for dinner (which is a very delicious cheese based dinner… where you heat cheese in little skillets and eat the melted cheese with potatoes and slices of meat). yummmm. The next day we dove right into our family camp. There were about 6 families, a few couples, and a few people who came along on their own and all together we were a good crowd. Our daily schedule during camp generally included:
8:30 Breakfast of chocolate chuad (hot chocolate) and bread
9:00 (for me cleaning dishes, sweeping floors, wiping tables until 10)
10:00 meet for worship (Seigneur, ton nom est élevé…)
10:30 I would baby-sit the youngest kids (Marion 3yrs & Laura 4yrs) while the parents listened to a local French pastor speak each morning. The girls and I played on “drums” made from pots and pans. We also found a giant cardboard box to use as a voiture (“car”) and a caverne (“cave”). In addition, to the copious amounts of toys, balls, and colors we had at our disposal. Yet, the simple drums and the old box were our favorite toys!
11:30 We would all grab our sack lunches that the cook (a fellow missionary named Gwen) prepared for us. A baguette sandwich, a piece of fruit, a lump of cheese, and (the French never forget desert) a chocolate bar.
12:00 By noon, all the families are scurrying about to get their kids into long johns, pack up the vehicles with skis… because the rest of the afternoon was free for the families to ski or snow-shoe, or go sledding in the surrounding mountains. I was fortunate enough to ski with the families for three of the days. A few days, I stayed at camp and helped watch the kids for parents who wanted to have a “kid-free” ski day. I got to go sledding with one of my charges and we built a bon homme de la neige. (“snowman”). One afternoon I stayed behind with a French woman named, Caroline Berger, and we had a French lesson. First, we started of with a French Bible and English Bible. She taught me how to pronounce and understand the first Psalm in French. Then we spent two hours practicing French words… before we knew it… the sun was starting to reach the mountains… and we had spent the whole afternoon together. It was lovely.
5:00 Everyone returned a little colder and perhaps a bit fatigued from the afternoon of skiing or tromping about in the snow.
6:00 I would help prepare for dinner, set the table, wash the cook’s dishes with my fellow staff members at camp.
7:00 Dinner is served! Beginning with a salad or cold vegetable, followed by the main course, and then desert. Meals were at least an hour, usually 2 or 2 ½ for me, including dish washing and cleaning up the kitchen each night. I love dinner. Mealtime is very important relationship building time. Each night, I find someone new to sit next to, or sit next to someone I want to talk with more.
9:00pm I am usually finishing my last corner of the kitchen with a mop by now and downstairs in our meeting room… all of camp is gathering for the night event! We start with more French worship and then games ensue. We spend time together until 10pm or occasionally 11pm (we sit together and have tea before bed a few nights). Then it is time to say “bonne nuit” and go to bed.
Camp ended on Feb 22d, and we said good-bye, exchanged emails. The families signed up to return to us for family camp in August. I can’t wait to see them again and will keep them in our prayers… each family struggling with the serious stuff that we all know; possible divorce, depression, and happier struggles like new babies on the way.
Since camp ended, we (everything I do... nearly always includes the camp staff team) have been cleaning camp! Scrubbing every toilet, vacuuming every room, washing mountains of sheets. We had a septic tank clogging issue… due to freezing temperatures, perhaps. We aren’t really sure what caused the block up and the overflowing of nastiness… but for almost a week… one of our bathrooms was disgusting! Poor Dan, fellow missionary, had to work on unclogging and dealing with the nasty. I also had to spend a few hours mopping up poo water one day!
There was a large retreat group using our camp this week. Apparently, someone in their group was sick, because I discovered some very nasty blankets in the washer… when I went to wash some camp sheets… and spent an hour cleaning the washer and the blankets… but at least the chunks were sanitized I kept telling myself. Since, I have worked at camps since I was 16, this definitely wasn’t my first rodeo, discovering and cleaning up vomit… but it never gets any more pleasant!
All in a days work at camp!!!
I also developed a pretty inconvenient cold (sore throat, goobies, nose running)! Which I blame on the difference in temperature between Texas and here. There is a blanket of snow on the ground here… Thankfully, the cold hit me during a few days of rest.
Our next camp starts tomorrow. It is a kids ski camp that I will be helping to clean for… so more dishes and toilets are in my future. I also will get to practice my French with some kids, make them laugh, and I even have to take them skiing on Wednesday (I know… that is a terrible job, isn’t it!)
All in all, I am so content! I step outside into the snow banks and feel more alive. I see the grateful smile of the French people when they find me scrubbing their toilets or dishes. I am having engaging and meaningful conversations. I am forming lasting relationships.
AND! I get to be near the French loved ones that I already have worked for and loved on since 2002. Things are going merrily along… yet keep our work and health in your thoughts… there is so much work to be done. Miss you all and send my love.
8:30 Breakfast of chocolate chuad (hot chocolate) and bread
9:00 (for me cleaning dishes, sweeping floors, wiping tables until 10)
10:00 meet for worship (Seigneur, ton nom est élevé…)
10:30 I would baby-sit the youngest kids (Marion 3yrs & Laura 4yrs) while the parents listened to a local French pastor speak each morning. The girls and I played on “drums” made from pots and pans. We also found a giant cardboard box to use as a voiture (“car”) and a caverne (“cave”). In addition, to the copious amounts of toys, balls, and colors we had at our disposal. Yet, the simple drums and the old box were our favorite toys!
11:30 We would all grab our sack lunches that the cook (a fellow missionary named Gwen) prepared for us. A baguette sandwich, a piece of fruit, a lump of cheese, and (the French never forget desert) a chocolate bar.
12:00 By noon, all the families are scurrying about to get their kids into long johns, pack up the vehicles with skis… because the rest of the afternoon was free for the families to ski or snow-shoe, or go sledding in the surrounding mountains. I was fortunate enough to ski with the families for three of the days. A few days, I stayed at camp and helped watch the kids for parents who wanted to have a “kid-free” ski day. I got to go sledding with one of my charges and we built a bon homme de la neige. (“snowman”). One afternoon I stayed behind with a French woman named, Caroline Berger, and we had a French lesson. First, we started of with a French Bible and English Bible. She taught me how to pronounce and understand the first Psalm in French. Then we spent two hours practicing French words… before we knew it… the sun was starting to reach the mountains… and we had spent the whole afternoon together. It was lovely.
5:00 Everyone returned a little colder and perhaps a bit fatigued from the afternoon of skiing or tromping about in the snow.
6:00 I would help prepare for dinner, set the table, wash the cook’s dishes with my fellow staff members at camp.
7:00 Dinner is served! Beginning with a salad or cold vegetable, followed by the main course, and then desert. Meals were at least an hour, usually 2 or 2 ½ for me, including dish washing and cleaning up the kitchen each night. I love dinner. Mealtime is very important relationship building time. Each night, I find someone new to sit next to, or sit next to someone I want to talk with more.
9:00pm I am usually finishing my last corner of the kitchen with a mop by now and downstairs in our meeting room… all of camp is gathering for the night event! We start with more French worship and then games ensue. We spend time together until 10pm or occasionally 11pm (we sit together and have tea before bed a few nights). Then it is time to say “bonne nuit” and go to bed.
Camp ended on Feb 22d, and we said good-bye, exchanged emails. The families signed up to return to us for family camp in August. I can’t wait to see them again and will keep them in our prayers… each family struggling with the serious stuff that we all know; possible divorce, depression, and happier struggles like new babies on the way.
Since camp ended, we (everything I do... nearly always includes the camp staff team) have been cleaning camp! Scrubbing every toilet, vacuuming every room, washing mountains of sheets. We had a septic tank clogging issue… due to freezing temperatures, perhaps. We aren’t really sure what caused the block up and the overflowing of nastiness… but for almost a week… one of our bathrooms was disgusting! Poor Dan, fellow missionary, had to work on unclogging and dealing with the nasty. I also had to spend a few hours mopping up poo water one day!
There was a large retreat group using our camp this week. Apparently, someone in their group was sick, because I discovered some very nasty blankets in the washer… when I went to wash some camp sheets… and spent an hour cleaning the washer and the blankets… but at least the chunks were sanitized I kept telling myself. Since, I have worked at camps since I was 16, this definitely wasn’t my first rodeo, discovering and cleaning up vomit… but it never gets any more pleasant!
All in a days work at camp!!!
I also developed a pretty inconvenient cold (sore throat, goobies, nose running)! Which I blame on the difference in temperature between Texas and here. There is a blanket of snow on the ground here… Thankfully, the cold hit me during a few days of rest.
Our next camp starts tomorrow. It is a kids ski camp that I will be helping to clean for… so more dishes and toilets are in my future. I also will get to practice my French with some kids, make them laugh, and I even have to take them skiing on Wednesday (I know… that is a terrible job, isn’t it!)
All in all, I am so content! I step outside into the snow banks and feel more alive. I see the grateful smile of the French people when they find me scrubbing their toilets or dishes. I am having engaging and meaningful conversations. I am forming lasting relationships.
AND! I get to be near the French loved ones that I already have worked for and loved on since 2002. Things are going merrily along… yet keep our work and health in your thoughts… there is so much work to be done. Miss you all and send my love.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
traveling mercies
This week was an adventure.
It started this last Thursday night…
Thursday night: Arlington and then home to Southlake
Friday night: Mason, TX (just northwest of Fredricksburg)
Saturday night: Brownwood, TX (central Texas)
Sunday night: Comanche, TX (little bit east of Brownwood)
Monday night: Missouri City, TX outside of Houston
Tuesday night (last night): Denton, TX north of Dallas/Ft.Worth
Friday night: Paris, France
Saturday night: Camp des Cimes, La Rivoire, Bourg d’Oisans, France
I’ve been reflecting on everything and I’m trying to crystallize all my favorite moments into memory…
Starting last Thursday… I played “volley-pong” around a ping-pong table with a crew of Indian students from University Texas Arlington. Goba and Anyesh (I know I have miserably miss-spelled their names) taught me how to play ping-pong using the rules of volley-ball… the result… little plastic ping-pongs flying through the air at break-neck speeds… running to hit the ball with your paddle to your team mate… running into the wall in your distraction… running while contortion-ing your arms like a Picasso painting to try and hit the ball back to the other side of the table.
Mason, TX is a beautiful small town in the middle of Texas mesquite flats and scattered scrub oaks. Surrounded for miles, by nothing but goat ranches, prickly pear, and pick-up trucks. I was there for a church retreat… we drove into the Texas sunset… up and down the hills… over cattle-guards… down a dirt path (for miles)… and finally descended down the steepest hill to discover a tiny little creek-bed valley that had whittled-out a beautiful hole between the hills. Lined with rock cliffs and floored with oak leaves. In this little hide-away were the largest oak trees… that grew horizontal to the ground, like crab-legs extending in long beautiful directions… littered with children climbing on their branches.
Conversations with people that I love to be around ensued. The hustle and bustle of a large group of people preparing a meal… and then all of us sitting down to eat it. Stories being told. Cooling temperatures in the night air… and as only country Texans know… that certain earthly smell… the aroma of the trees and soil that grows stronger as the earth cools.
Watching “Arrested Development” on the wall with a projector. Enjoying farm-made cheese and wine. Playing “salad-bowl” (a conglomeration of charades and word games) around a kitchen table while sipping peppermint tea.
Jumping on the trampoline with my two little cousins Hannah and Jack. Hannah is twelve and Jack is eight. Hannah asking me questions… about God… about loving enemies… about her 6th grade crush Thomas who is moving to a different school.
Driving through the pine forests along I-45 as rain sprinkled the car… and finally, out-driving the storm and reaching the line in the sky between the dark rain clouds and the light-blue sky. The sun had just showed up when…. glug-bump glug-bump glug-bump… my back tire went flat. The wind was whipping! The storm front was right behind me… blowing my luggage over and making it difficult to keep my page in the car manual open to the right page! I was half way finished changing my tire. I loosened the lug-nuts by myself… which took all my muscles combined… got the spare out… had gotten the car on a jack… I had grabbed my camera to take pictures of the little dilapidated white shack and the green field at which I was parked.... when all of a sudden…! A giant 18-wheeler pulled over, and Doug the trucker/ odd knight in shining armor helped me finish changing my tire. Good Samaritan incarnated.
Falling asleep next to my grandmother, Peep, under her canopy bed. Intricate wood arched over my head with white lace hanging along its frames… an old treasure that Peep and Pop have had since they married over fifty years ago. It was storming! Rain pelted the side-walk outside. I didn’t want to get my pajamas from the car… so I borrowed pajamas from Peep… a giant moo-moo pajama dress…white flannel covered by little pink rose-buds. Peep and I told stories… rubbed noses in an Eskimo goodnight kiss… and fell asleep to her favorite radio station… soft-rock… I think I fell asleep to Cat Stevens “Bridge over troubled waters.”
…it was a lot of driving… but worth every second.
It started this last Thursday night…
Thursday night: Arlington and then home to Southlake
Friday night: Mason, TX (just northwest of Fredricksburg)
Saturday night: Brownwood, TX (central Texas)
Sunday night: Comanche, TX (little bit east of Brownwood)
Monday night: Missouri City, TX outside of Houston
Tuesday night (last night): Denton, TX north of Dallas/Ft.Worth
Friday night: Paris, France
Saturday night: Camp des Cimes, La Rivoire, Bourg d’Oisans, France
I’ve been reflecting on everything and I’m trying to crystallize all my favorite moments into memory…
Starting last Thursday… I played “volley-pong” around a ping-pong table with a crew of Indian students from University Texas Arlington. Goba and Anyesh (I know I have miserably miss-spelled their names) taught me how to play ping-pong using the rules of volley-ball… the result… little plastic ping-pongs flying through the air at break-neck speeds… running to hit the ball with your paddle to your team mate… running into the wall in your distraction… running while contortion-ing your arms like a Picasso painting to try and hit the ball back to the other side of the table.
Mason, TX is a beautiful small town in the middle of Texas mesquite flats and scattered scrub oaks. Surrounded for miles, by nothing but goat ranches, prickly pear, and pick-up trucks. I was there for a church retreat… we drove into the Texas sunset… up and down the hills… over cattle-guards… down a dirt path (for miles)… and finally descended down the steepest hill to discover a tiny little creek-bed valley that had whittled-out a beautiful hole between the hills. Lined with rock cliffs and floored with oak leaves. In this little hide-away were the largest oak trees… that grew horizontal to the ground, like crab-legs extending in long beautiful directions… littered with children climbing on their branches.
Conversations with people that I love to be around ensued. The hustle and bustle of a large group of people preparing a meal… and then all of us sitting down to eat it. Stories being told. Cooling temperatures in the night air… and as only country Texans know… that certain earthly smell… the aroma of the trees and soil that grows stronger as the earth cools.
Watching “Arrested Development” on the wall with a projector. Enjoying farm-made cheese and wine. Playing “salad-bowl” (a conglomeration of charades and word games) around a kitchen table while sipping peppermint tea.
Jumping on the trampoline with my two little cousins Hannah and Jack. Hannah is twelve and Jack is eight. Hannah asking me questions… about God… about loving enemies… about her 6th grade crush Thomas who is moving to a different school.
Driving through the pine forests along I-45 as rain sprinkled the car… and finally, out-driving the storm and reaching the line in the sky between the dark rain clouds and the light-blue sky. The sun had just showed up when…. glug-bump glug-bump glug-bump… my back tire went flat. The wind was whipping! The storm front was right behind me… blowing my luggage over and making it difficult to keep my page in the car manual open to the right page! I was half way finished changing my tire. I loosened the lug-nuts by myself… which took all my muscles combined… got the spare out… had gotten the car on a jack… I had grabbed my camera to take pictures of the little dilapidated white shack and the green field at which I was parked.... when all of a sudden…! A giant 18-wheeler pulled over, and Doug the trucker/ odd knight in shining armor helped me finish changing my tire. Good Samaritan incarnated.
Falling asleep next to my grandmother, Peep, under her canopy bed. Intricate wood arched over my head with white lace hanging along its frames… an old treasure that Peep and Pop have had since they married over fifty years ago. It was storming! Rain pelted the side-walk outside. I didn’t want to get my pajamas from the car… so I borrowed pajamas from Peep… a giant moo-moo pajama dress…white flannel covered by little pink rose-buds. Peep and I told stories… rubbed noses in an Eskimo goodnight kiss… and fell asleep to her favorite radio station… soft-rock… I think I fell asleep to Cat Stevens “Bridge over troubled waters.”
…it was a lot of driving… but worth every second.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
something looming on the horizon
beautiful things are happening. it was very very cold today. I spent most of my time indoors. sitting in front of one of those plug-in-the-wall heaters...keeping toasty warm as I sent emails... talked with people on the phone... filled out forms... all working toward getting to France sooner than later. Finally, having been cooped up in my pajamas in the house all day (oh the joy of working from the house! pajamas worn nearly the whole day!) I decided to go for a walk with the dog... through the cold and dreary woods.
Did I mention that sleet was falling from the sky?
It was a glorious decision.
I bundled up.
Long Johns.
Fleece lined pants.
Monkey Fleece (I love my friends... thank you again for my lovely monkey fleece)
Big- waterproof- winter boots
Favorite gloves.
My new SCARF-HAT! (Yes! it is both a hat and scarf in one! the little hangy-bobs from the side of the hat are actually long and knit like scarves so I can wrap them around my neck.)
My dog, is the shaggiest, largest, dog. He is quite warm (half Great Pyrenees...with a thick winter coat).
So we started on our way... as the sleet made icicles on the top of my hat and the sides of the leash. We trudged quite happily to the trail-head near the house that winds endlessly through the woods around the local Lake Grapevine.
We splashed through icy creeks. We carved through bramble-bushes anointed with frozen droplets. We slugged through cold mud. We didn't see another soul.
The gray sky grew darker and darker gray. We were in the thick woods but far off lights popped up on the hills along the skyline... as the houses atop the hills were somewhat visible through the naked trees.
It seemed to be really quiet... but listening... I could hear the swishing of my pants. the crunching of dirt under my boots. the padding of the dogs prints on the ground. the fluttering of little bird wings. a very distant bark (probably from the houses on the hills). an even more distant train blaring it's horn. the rumble of a plane engine high in the cold atmosphere.
and the tiny-splittering of sleet hitting the world.
Nothing exciting is happening right now... I make it home... covered in ice. (My curly hair is actually frozen that way.) Eat leftovers (Pad Thai...yum yum). Send emails and write my blog.
Today was a quietly beautiful day. and tomorrow is coming!
Friday, January 23, 2009
stumbled across this
A brief rainstorm,
in which I was lathering away the daily sweat,
suddenly burst forth
Thoughts that seemed well-dressed
I treasured. Curiosity
wondered around
the thought:
want is the seed of interest.
To peer under every stone,
and mound of earth,
to filter fingers through pages
and minds, mining,
to fuel the exertions of comprehension,
humility is the spark.
The premier map-writers admire
the grid and squirm to think
what’s beyond the edges.
The politicians
the pastors
the professors
the planners
do not seem passionless, but the
pursuit of viable alternatives
are not advantageous.
Advancement,
fuller pockets, greater pulpits,
projects and pledges are preferred to the
Truth taboo.
Simplicity too complex:
ignore–angst is their diet.
They make defining
popular.
They make everything
logical,
seeming so, they disguise
starvation-bellies, orphan-farming, savagery-cycling.
Proud fools
caress the phantom:
omni-science. (comforting thoughts so they can remain comfortable)
Explaining the world,
they ignore it. (graph the hungry)
Ruling the world,
they destroy it. (kill the opposition)
The Renaissanced are sparkless.
Dingy ignition: love & modesty,
yet nothing finer
shines
than limited ones
plumbing the limitless.
No one asks the spark-people
Where their imaginations have gone?
Except those who have lost their own.
in which I was lathering away the daily sweat,
suddenly burst forth
Thoughts that seemed well-dressed
I treasured. Curiosity
wondered around
the thought:
want is the seed of interest.
To peer under every stone,
and mound of earth,
to filter fingers through pages
and minds, mining,
to fuel the exertions of comprehension,
humility is the spark.
The premier map-writers admire
the grid and squirm to think
what’s beyond the edges.
The politicians
the pastors
the professors
the planners
do not seem passionless, but the
pursuit of viable alternatives
are not advantageous.
Advancement,
fuller pockets, greater pulpits,
projects and pledges are preferred to the
Truth taboo.
Simplicity too complex:
ignore–angst is their diet.
They make defining
popular.
They make everything
logical,
seeming so, they disguise
starvation-bellies, orphan-farming, savagery-cycling.
Proud fools
caress the phantom:
omni-science. (comforting thoughts so they can remain comfortable)
Explaining the world,
they ignore it. (graph the hungry)
Ruling the world,
they destroy it. (kill the opposition)
The Renaissanced are sparkless.
Dingy ignition: love & modesty,
yet nothing finer
shines
than limited ones
plumbing the limitless.
No one asks the spark-people
Where their imaginations have gone?
Except those who have lost their own.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Yes, I am one of those...
...girls that loves all things Jane Austen. I own every book. and I have read them all. repeatedly.
I found the audio book Pride & Prejudice the other day and took it with me to drive to east Texas on Monday. I started listening to this wonderful book in the car... and listened to it the next day on the drive home... and then... popped the CD in my computer and listened to the book all the afternoon. I listened to the whole book in one day. I could not put it down, so to speak.
After listening to the most classic love story ever written... I, of course, wanted more... so then I watched the movie. The really really old version. Black and white. Laurence Oliver as Mr. Darcy and Greer Garson as Miss Bennet (See picture below). Yes, I own the black and white version of this movie.
and the newest version with Kiera Knightly. and the Bollywood version (Bride & Prejudice). and I am dying to own the 6 hour BBC version... but it is really expensive... so I am waiting on that one.
In the meanwhile, I have Pride & Prejudice on my mind. I keep wanting to speak like English nobles in the 1800's. I want to use words like ...
consequence...affability...civility...attachment...decorum...
And say things like..."Pray, do tell!"
Pray, do tell me, why has the habit of throwing a ball fallen out of fashion?
I found the audio book Pride & Prejudice the other day and took it with me to drive to east Texas on Monday. I started listening to this wonderful book in the car... and listened to it the next day on the drive home... and then... popped the CD in my computer and listened to the book all the afternoon. I listened to the whole book in one day. I could not put it down, so to speak.
After listening to the most classic love story ever written... I, of course, wanted more... so then I watched the movie. The really really old version. Black and white. Laurence Oliver as Mr. Darcy and Greer Garson as Miss Bennet (See picture below). Yes, I own the black and white version of this movie.
and the newest version with Kiera Knightly. and the Bollywood version (Bride & Prejudice). and I am dying to own the 6 hour BBC version... but it is really expensive... so I am waiting on that one.
In the meanwhile, I have Pride & Prejudice on my mind. I keep wanting to speak like English nobles in the 1800's. I want to use words like ...
consequence...affability...civility...attachment...decorum...
And say things like..."Pray, do tell!"
Pray, do tell me, why has the habit of throwing a ball fallen out of fashion?
Friday, December 26, 2008
Warning!! Christmas Confessions
I wanted to blog lately but I didn't have anything nice to say... I've been haunted by harsh emotions that have mostly revolved around three main states of being...
(1) piercing sorrow (perfunctory tears...without provocation)
(2) flagrant rage (i want to punch a face... i want to break my knuckles on someones jaw)
and...
(3) extreme self-loathing (for feeling the above two emotions)
I mean... it is Christmas. We are celebrating Emmanuel. He humbled himself, became a baby, shed salt tears, had pooped that smelled (I mean literally, HOLY CRAP!) He became human. The cross was a horrible, painful ordeal. But think...LIMITLESS God confined himself to being a human. That must have been a very difficult change.
I should be shocked by joy. Filled with gratitude. Awed by mystery.
Instead, I have been choking on my own snot. Crying uncontrollably into my pillow until I'm so fatigued that I fall asleep. I want to be sedated... as The Ramones say.
Here is a snap-shot of my current living quarters I've shared with my sister. (There is Darby smiling sweetly in the picture. And she should be smiling! Wes proposed to her on Dec. 23rd! Hoooray! That was one very happy night. Like I said earlier... my emotions are like a miller's wheel whirling through rapids.)
My mom's house is like the inside of a high-school cafeteria microwave...there is stuff splattered everywhere. All of our family's collected crap, as well as all my step-dad's family crap, are crammed into this house. Twenty-five years of stuff. Living in this space enrages me. Especially, since I have tripped, stubbed, and fallen my way around this room... and the fact that the door to the driveway is in this room...so people are always walking through...when I am sleeping... or trying to change clothes.
Did you notice there is no door in the doorway? I should be able to get over this. This shouldn't be a problem. I know that I am being really immature and selfish and mean and ungrateful.
and Dad is so alone. He doesn't want to talk on the phone. He worked the entire holiday. He worked and 18 hour day on Christmas eve and spent the night in Pittsburgh, alone, in a hotel room. (my step-mom died in october... ) joy escapes me. My dad is physically alone... brother is off with friends... sister is off with fiance.... mother is off with husband and his odd relations.
but still... I have a roof over my head. A warm place to sleep. I have everything I need and more. my family loves me. God never forsakes me (no matter how LAME I am being...like right now)
The Lord has impeccable timing. I am reading two books by Shane Claiborne (The Irresistible Revolution and Jesus for President)...unveiling the absolute anit-Jesus way of life that suburban Americans tend to be living surrounded by their material belongings. Shane sleeps in the streets at night to love and spend time with the homeless. He discusses the rich young ruler from scripture... you know... the one Jesus tells to sell all his stuff and help the poor. And literally does that.
But more importantly than that...Shane discusses love... he would be showing some love to the strangers... I mean "relatives" that have now married into my life and inhabit most of the house (including all the rooms with doors...grr....trying not to be jealous...trying not to be jealous)
conviction. no one is seeing Jesus in me.
everyone, I humbly repent.
Lord, I repent.
(1) piercing sorrow (perfunctory tears...without provocation)
(2) flagrant rage (i want to punch a face... i want to break my knuckles on someones jaw)
and...
(3) extreme self-loathing (for feeling the above two emotions)
I mean... it is Christmas. We are celebrating Emmanuel. He humbled himself, became a baby, shed salt tears, had pooped that smelled (I mean literally, HOLY CRAP!) He became human. The cross was a horrible, painful ordeal. But think...LIMITLESS God confined himself to being a human. That must have been a very difficult change.
I should be shocked by joy. Filled with gratitude. Awed by mystery.
Instead, I have been choking on my own snot. Crying uncontrollably into my pillow until I'm so fatigued that I fall asleep. I want to be sedated... as The Ramones say.
Here is a snap-shot of my current living quarters I've shared with my sister. (There is Darby smiling sweetly in the picture. And she should be smiling! Wes proposed to her on Dec. 23rd! Hoooray! That was one very happy night. Like I said earlier... my emotions are like a miller's wheel whirling through rapids.)
My mom's house is like the inside of a high-school cafeteria microwave...there is stuff splattered everywhere. All of our family's collected crap, as well as all my step-dad's family crap, are crammed into this house. Twenty-five years of stuff. Living in this space enrages me. Especially, since I have tripped, stubbed, and fallen my way around this room... and the fact that the door to the driveway is in this room...so people are always walking through...when I am sleeping... or trying to change clothes.
Did you notice there is no door in the doorway? I should be able to get over this. This shouldn't be a problem. I know that I am being really immature and selfish and mean and ungrateful.
and Dad is so alone. He doesn't want to talk on the phone. He worked the entire holiday. He worked and 18 hour day on Christmas eve and spent the night in Pittsburgh, alone, in a hotel room. (my step-mom died in october... ) joy escapes me. My dad is physically alone... brother is off with friends... sister is off with fiance.... mother is off with husband and his odd relations.
but still... I have a roof over my head. A warm place to sleep. I have everything I need and more. my family loves me. God never forsakes me (no matter how LAME I am being...like right now)
The Lord has impeccable timing. I am reading two books by Shane Claiborne (The Irresistible Revolution and Jesus for President)...unveiling the absolute anit-Jesus way of life that suburban Americans tend to be living surrounded by their material belongings. Shane sleeps in the streets at night to love and spend time with the homeless. He discusses the rich young ruler from scripture... you know... the one Jesus tells to sell all his stuff and help the poor. And literally does that.
But more importantly than that...Shane discusses love... he would be showing some love to the strangers... I mean "relatives" that have now married into my life and inhabit most of the house (including all the rooms with doors...grr....trying not to be jealous...trying not to be jealous)
conviction. no one is seeing Jesus in me.
everyone, I humbly repent.
Lord, I repent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
