Timing is a funny thing. It can be everything. It can be nothing at all. It can be excruciatingly long and it can just fly by us. It ages us. It's a thing... but it's kind of not. It's also just an idea. Time.
Today timing was a key element in making a hilariously enjoyable end to my day.
A couple of my house mates and I were sitting around talking this evening. Annie was cutting up vegetables, Ginny was preparing for her day, and I was sitting on the floor drinking wine (this is what my days have come to). Somehow our talking evolves into these elaborate ideas of... ready?... Group Blind Dates. We were coming up with the most grandiose ideas here. The main idea was that we would each set one another up with blind dates. We talked about prospects of different men for awhile. Who would go with who? Of course we couldn't go into too much detail here. It's supposed to be a blind date. Then, what are the rules? Can we say who we'd like to be set up with in hopes that our fellow room mates would choose that person for us? Can we say who we absolutely don't want to be set up on a blind date with? We agreed upon not being able to give out hints of who we hope for, but certainly we would be allowed to avoid being paired along with someone we are certain we would not go well with. Boundaries, guys. Boundaries.
Then it went on to how the dates would go. The idea of just going out to dinner somewhere is not all so exciting. Would the setter-uppers plan the date as well? Would it be a group date where we all go out together? Would we do a group date first, and then single dates afterward if all went well with the particular date?
Finally the consensus was a date in the city. It starts out with everyone separate (couples together, of course) and we end up in a place to dine together at the end of our day via a scavenger hunt. That way these blind dates get to go through some problem solving together, thus deepening the relationship and finding out if compatibility exists earlier than, say, after the 4th boring dinner date. Wins all over the place.
Now we run into the problem of how to find these men. Do we choose them from our churches? Surely we would then know these guys at least a little bit already if we chose them from a community we already had. Do we choose them from other churches? We'd need a little outside help with that. We've got to choose someone who's at least knowingly compatible in some way or another with the roomie we're setting him up with. We would need a networker. Someone who knows everyone else. Yes. Yes, that would be ideal. Where do we find that?
My mind wandered to all the people I meet at my job. I shared this with Ginny and Annie. "There are a lot of good looking, nice men who come in there that could be prospects, guys." It's true. Then I remembered someone particularly memorable from the night before while I was working. I was working the register and a man walked up to my empty line. I asked if he was ready yet and he told me, almost. He needed to find the applesauce and I could probably help him. Well he was right. I pointed him towards the right aisle and I told him which side it would be down. He repeated me to make sure he knew, to which I threw my hands up in the air and said, "You know, I'm not supposed to leave here but why I don't just take you." A rebel I am, and he pointed that out. To the applesauce we went.
Later on after I rung up a few more customers this man came to my line. Another cashier offered to ring him up but he declined the offer to stay in my line. I thought that was awfully nice of him. It's always nice to finish something you started, even if it's just a small interaction with that girl who helped you at the grocery store.
Once his turn came around we chatted a bit about applesauce and almond meal and what sorts of things you can make with almond meal. It was a relaxing and pleasant interaction.
I told Ginny and Annie that I could set them up with someone like that when I meet people in my line at Trader Joe's. I gave Annie the eye thinking about setting the two of them up, realizing how far-fetched it was, "He was really handsome, with nice blue eyes [wink]. I could tell he was a great guy. Now the only problem with finding guys that way s is it's hard to know about the whole Jesus thing." They both agreed, and we continued conspiring and giggling at ourselves about our Group Blind Date. It would go global! It would catch on and other people would get involved to meet others this way. Man, we're good. We knew it.
About twenty minutes passed by. I poured myself another glass of wine and repositioned myself on the floor in the doorway of my bedroom. Lauren was then home sitting around the dining room with us and, hark! What is that? A knock on the front door. Lauren looked out the window, waved, and let her friend in.
Drinking my wine, Lauren introduced me to her friend who is also friends with Annie, who also knows Ginny. We looked up to meet each others acquaintance and found that... well, we already have met each others acquaintance.
"Waaaait a second," He said, "You helped me find apple sauce yesterday!"
Friday, June 22, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
What happens in the snack aisle don't really stay in the snack aisle
Every other day is a hard day.
I can't quite put into words the thoughts I have. It feels like a sort of depression I'm in. People at work keep telling me how chipper I am, and joyful I seem all the time. How I look at the good things. That's is truly all of the Lord shining out through me. The feeling of much of my spirit is losing juice.
Why am I here? I ask again as I stock chips in the snack aisle. I pray, "Lord, I can't be here. Please help me. Send me someone, something, help me, please." I ride my bike down the same roads daily, and I know it's going to be that way for months. I only see the same time of day every day. I don't get to see the sun come up, or the sun go down. I miss seasons of the day.
I feel consumed by my surroundings, even though I try so hard not to be.
I don't feel challenged... let me explain. I feel challenged in the way that I am speaking of, being here. But that challenge makes me want to lay limp like a dead fish. If I do get challenged in any other way, I won't have the life in me to take it on. That's a depressing thought.
All I have to do when I am stocking those shelves is get lost inside my own head. I help customers, and then I stock cereal and my mind reels. Perhaps my mind would have more to write about than this if it had time to reel elsewhere; Somewhere challenging and adventurous.
Today after finishing one customers groceries I was met with a white-haired older woman. She put her basket down on the shelf and stood there as if to observe me and for me to observe here. It was a little strange, but so endearing as she stood there dressed in all white, hands clasped in front of her, and smiling huge.
She walked over to the other side of the counter and watched me.Then she spoke so softly. She had a quiviling voice, very quiet and old. She sounded like she had almost lost her voice completely... except for that one fact that I could faintly hear here. Somehow still, she spoke strongly. Her spirit was strong.
"Are you an artist?"
I looked up delightly suprised, "I am, actually!"
She looked back at me with knowing in her eyes, "I am too. I taught at the art institute for twenty years."
I enjoyed her. I ask what kind of artist she is.
Softly, she responded with such joy and confidence, "I am a writer".
"Me too!" I said this, surprised at myself. If she would have asked me that question first I would have had to think about it. I would have said something like.... I like to make mosaics? So certain I am an artist, yet so unsure of my medium. How silly. But there I was, just as certain as she was. Just as certain as she is. And she was ecstatic that I was a writer as well. She asked what I liked to write. Non-fiction, creative non-fiction, I told here. She did too. Her enjoyment of this conversation grew bubbly. I followed. There was a bond there that is hard to explain.
"We are so blessed," she said, "Never quite. Write every day. Don't ever forget."
She said it over and over again emotionally, as if it were the scene in the end of Titanic where Rose promises she'll "never let go", only less cheesy and freakishly real.
"Don't ever for get. How blessed we are. Write, and write every day."
I looked at her, "It's really good to be reminded of that."
She looked back at me still smiling, with her soft voice, "May God bless you very much."
She walked away with her white hair, dressed in all white, smiling brightly looking back at me over her shoulder, "Don't ever forget". I had to snap back into reality when the next customer walked up.
I have pretty neat interactions with people. Things that I love to write about and talk about. Things that give me hope in the world. Not often have I had an experience with a person that made that moment in time I had with them feel like a bubble outside of worldly reality. There was a spirituality in that which almost freaked me out. I wanted to hug her. I still do. I can't quite explain it. I so wish I could.
Then I went to stock the chip aisle....
Here we go again...
I can't quite put into words the thoughts I have. It feels like a sort of depression I'm in. People at work keep telling me how chipper I am, and joyful I seem all the time. How I look at the good things. That's is truly all of the Lord shining out through me. The feeling of much of my spirit is losing juice.
Why am I here? I ask again as I stock chips in the snack aisle. I pray, "Lord, I can't be here. Please help me. Send me someone, something, help me, please." I ride my bike down the same roads daily, and I know it's going to be that way for months. I only see the same time of day every day. I don't get to see the sun come up, or the sun go down. I miss seasons of the day.
I feel consumed by my surroundings, even though I try so hard not to be.
I don't feel challenged... let me explain. I feel challenged in the way that I am speaking of, being here. But that challenge makes me want to lay limp like a dead fish. If I do get challenged in any other way, I won't have the life in me to take it on. That's a depressing thought.
All I have to do when I am stocking those shelves is get lost inside my own head. I help customers, and then I stock cereal and my mind reels. Perhaps my mind would have more to write about than this if it had time to reel elsewhere; Somewhere challenging and adventurous.
Today after finishing one customers groceries I was met with a white-haired older woman. She put her basket down on the shelf and stood there as if to observe me and for me to observe here. It was a little strange, but so endearing as she stood there dressed in all white, hands clasped in front of her, and smiling huge.
She walked over to the other side of the counter and watched me.Then she spoke so softly. She had a quiviling voice, very quiet and old. She sounded like she had almost lost her voice completely... except for that one fact that I could faintly hear here. Somehow still, she spoke strongly. Her spirit was strong.
"Are you an artist?"
I looked up delightly suprised, "I am, actually!"
She looked back at me with knowing in her eyes, "I am too. I taught at the art institute for twenty years."
I enjoyed her. I ask what kind of artist she is.
Softly, she responded with such joy and confidence, "I am a writer".
"Me too!" I said this, surprised at myself. If she would have asked me that question first I would have had to think about it. I would have said something like.... I like to make mosaics? So certain I am an artist, yet so unsure of my medium. How silly. But there I was, just as certain as she was. Just as certain as she is. And she was ecstatic that I was a writer as well. She asked what I liked to write. Non-fiction, creative non-fiction, I told here. She did too. Her enjoyment of this conversation grew bubbly. I followed. There was a bond there that is hard to explain.
"We are so blessed," she said, "Never quite. Write every day. Don't ever forget."
She said it over and over again emotionally, as if it were the scene in the end of Titanic where Rose promises she'll "never let go", only less cheesy and freakishly real.
"Don't ever for get. How blessed we are. Write, and write every day."
I looked at her, "It's really good to be reminded of that."
She looked back at me still smiling, with her soft voice, "May God bless you very much."
She walked away with her white hair, dressed in all white, smiling brightly looking back at me over her shoulder, "Don't ever forget". I had to snap back into reality when the next customer walked up.
I have pretty neat interactions with people. Things that I love to write about and talk about. Things that give me hope in the world. Not often have I had an experience with a person that made that moment in time I had with them feel like a bubble outside of worldly reality. There was a spirituality in that which almost freaked me out. I wanted to hug her. I still do. I can't quite explain it. I so wish I could.
Then I went to stock the chip aisle....
Here we go again...
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Piece of dirt? Why yes, I am.
I was looking down at the metal grade beneath my feet which I walked on. A hundred feet or so below the sight of my pink toenails and dirty feet was the Illinois River. I walked over it, not looking for too long or I'd lose my balance and topple towards the bicycle I supported with my right hand. A pick-up truck with a boat following zoomed past me and I jolted a bit, stopped, and smiled as I re-gained my balance. There was but a few feet between me and cars, and inches between the bike I was walking and the shoulder of the bridge we crossed together. It arched up a bit in that way bridges do. I encountered all sorts of little goodies along my walk across it: tattered clothing, fishing lines, old shoes, plastic something-or-others. When I reached the end of the bridge the decline in elevation had still a bit further to go. Looming over the end of that downhill was a massive incline. Fast cars whipped around a curve and I couldn't exactly tell how long that up-hill went for, but I looked at it straight on and said aloud to myself, "here I go", as I saddled up on my bike and headed straight for it along the road's shoulder.
Exhilarating was launch. I peddled hard to keep my speed while grinning a giggly grin. You know that kind you just can't wipe off? I know it all too well from any sort of downhill cycling exploration.
Once I started to reach the beginning of the incline I switched gears, and soon I switched again. I got into my lowest gear and put all my muscle into this bad boy. Pumping hard, the grin was replaced with a very serious game-face. I focused on one pedal at a time synchronizing it with steady breathing. I focused not on how difficult the hill was making my life, but on how amazing it was that I had just climbed that hill on two wheels, how God made our bodies beautiful, how I. am. awesome. Conceit, there was none of. You have to tell yourself you're awesome when you're doing something tough. Your body listens to your mind. I've been on some difficult runs through the Rockies that I wouldn't have finished if I didn't tell myself how amazing my body was through the entirety of the run. Truly. All of the sudden I was at the top of this looming hill faster than I had anticipated. It was amazing that I had climbed that hill so thoughtfully, reaching the top, then as soon as I put my mind to rest rolling along flat road my body started to weaken. I felt shaky and light-headed. I could hear my body, "alright Mind, I heard ya', I listened to ya', we got up the hill. Now listen to your Body and make a little pit stop, woodgya?" You got it.
I pulled over and lay flat on my back in the grass staring up at the opaque Midwestern sky. It was white with deepening pale-blue waves throughout. There is no more a satisfying moment than accomplishing something with your mind and your body in cahoots with each other, and then stopping to nurture them both. I drank my water, I ate my Cliff bar, and I reveled in the beauty I was surrounded by as my body slowly repaired enough to bike my way back to my campsite.
Each time I do something like that I remember why I love riding my bike, running, hiking mountains that peak in the sky. There is a deep connection with body, soul, mind, nature, that these things force you to have if you want to succeed.
With each of these things I am brought close to my Lord.
"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,
intricatly woven in the depths of the earth."
PS. We are God-breathed dirt. We are formed from this earth. We are intricately a part of this earth. This is no metaphor, God-breathed dirt. This is what we come from. And if you want to know any of the amazingness of dirt I recommend "Dirt! The Movie" (Netflix, man), but more so than this incredible substance that covers the earth from which we were made, we are also made in His image and God-breathed. No wonder we have such a connection with nature.
Take care of your God-breathed body. It's sacred. Even more sacred than the earth we live in. Don't litter the earth, don't litter your body. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Exhilarating was launch. I peddled hard to keep my speed while grinning a giggly grin. You know that kind you just can't wipe off? I know it all too well from any sort of downhill cycling exploration.
Once I started to reach the beginning of the incline I switched gears, and soon I switched again. I got into my lowest gear and put all my muscle into this bad boy. Pumping hard, the grin was replaced with a very serious game-face. I focused on one pedal at a time synchronizing it with steady breathing. I focused not on how difficult the hill was making my life, but on how amazing it was that I had just climbed that hill on two wheels, how God made our bodies beautiful, how I. am. awesome. Conceit, there was none of. You have to tell yourself you're awesome when you're doing something tough. Your body listens to your mind. I've been on some difficult runs through the Rockies that I wouldn't have finished if I didn't tell myself how amazing my body was through the entirety of the run. Truly. All of the sudden I was at the top of this looming hill faster than I had anticipated. It was amazing that I had climbed that hill so thoughtfully, reaching the top, then as soon as I put my mind to rest rolling along flat road my body started to weaken. I felt shaky and light-headed. I could hear my body, "alright Mind, I heard ya', I listened to ya', we got up the hill. Now listen to your Body and make a little pit stop, woodgya?" You got it.
I pulled over and lay flat on my back in the grass staring up at the opaque Midwestern sky. It was white with deepening pale-blue waves throughout. There is no more a satisfying moment than accomplishing something with your mind and your body in cahoots with each other, and then stopping to nurture them both. I drank my water, I ate my Cliff bar, and I reveled in the beauty I was surrounded by as my body slowly repaired enough to bike my way back to my campsite.
Each time I do something like that I remember why I love riding my bike, running, hiking mountains that peak in the sky. There is a deep connection with body, soul, mind, nature, that these things force you to have if you want to succeed.
With each of these things I am brought close to my Lord.
"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,
intricatly woven in the depths of the earth."
PS. We are God-breathed dirt. We are formed from this earth. We are intricately a part of this earth. This is no metaphor, God-breathed dirt. This is what we come from. And if you want to know any of the amazingness of dirt I recommend "Dirt! The Movie" (Netflix, man), but more so than this incredible substance that covers the earth from which we were made, we are also made in His image and God-breathed. No wonder we have such a connection with nature.
Take care of your God-breathed body. It's sacred. Even more sacred than the earth we live in. Don't litter the earth, don't litter your body. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Christians who are dooming the world. Need I say more? Yes, actually
Napverville.... come ON now. I don't even know what to say.
Already I don't really like Naperville, and I feel the liberty to truly say that since I lived there. I realize not EVERYONE has their nose stuck up in the air in that city, but a lot of them do.
Since I've moved back to the suburbs from the mountains I have done my darn best to stay away from that city. The drivers get meaner there, the skin gets more cancerous there (tanning beds), the makeup gets thicker, the douche bags get douchier. You get the picture. It just is. I don't like even merely walking the sidewalks. But that is not the point of this.
The point is the closest Barnes N Noble to me is in Naperville, and I was doomed to drive into the depths of this city to go browse the books. This time around my experience wasn't turning out so bad. I went in, I browsed, (the guy at the checkout line had some serious anger issues, but nobody's perfect) and I walked out holding the door for a couple of folks walking in. Just about to turn the corner for my escape those couple of folks came charging around after me introducing themselves as So-and-so Blah-Blah from the Theological Yadda-Yadda there in downtown Naperville. Okay, I thought, this aught'a be interesting. And, on she goes. And on and on and on and on, "Yadda yadda blah blah, over and over and some more blah blah, and the bible says that God represents both male and female, so he has a feminine side as well. So what are your thoughts on that?"
Let's get a clearer picture of not only what I'm hearing, but what I'm looking at. I'm looking at a trendy girl with point to make. She's standing with one foot closer to me and the other foot back, and from the waist up she is leaning at me, talking at me (not to me, there's a big difference), uncomfortably close to my face, looking me straight in the eye. If she's actually a friendly person, she didn't show it. It seemed like she was ready for a fight.
Back to the "conversation". I respond to her inquiry, "Well that's a really broad thing to just give my thoughts on all of the sudden. Can you narrow down what you're looking for a little bit?" That's a pretty direct question, right? You'd think a direct answer would be simple. But on she goes, "Well, the bible says that yadda yadda blah blah blah blah blah, and blah blah, and Jesus is coming a second time, and he already came once, so when he comes again that will be the second coming of Christ, so blah blah blah blah blah. Are you a Christian?"
"Well, yeah, actually," I responded.
"Would you be interested in getting together to talk about this more?"
"Not really. I have my own church and community that I'm a part of. I'm actually not really interested in talking about this right now, either."
That was a shocker. She was ready for defense at this point.
What would be the proper response to someone who you bothered on the street corner minding their own business who said that they didn't want to continue the conversation? Say, "thank you for your time", and be on your way. What's the very, very wrong way to respond to this? Look to the woman in my face...
"Well the bible says that Jesus is coming a second time, yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda, and on and on and on and on............................" I kid you not, she talked so much I really just stopped listening.
I interrupted getting a bit angry at this point, "Okay, so what is your point here? Are you trying to 'save' me? I told you that I am already a Christan and I'm still not interested in talking about this with you. So can you tell me what the point of all of this is right now? I came in to get my book and go home. Now I want to go home. I'm not interested in this conversation." How many times do I have to say it?
It became clear that everything I say to her went in one ear and out the other, and her voice got louder and more dominant, "Jesus is coming a second time................... blah blah..................... blah blah...............[more loud talking at me]"
I interrupted again, "Listen, I told you I have a church and a community who I can talk to this stuff about if I want to, and right now I don't."
There was a man who was standing off to the left of her and a little bit behind her, her back-up. Finally she gave up on my salvation and looked back at him. He chimed in saying the exact things that this girl kept repeating over, and over, and over, and over again to me about Jesus' second coming, and ends with, "We really need you to just consider this".
Did I NOT just tell you that I wasn't interested in talking about this? Did I not just say that I had a church and community of other Christian folk? Because it sure as hell sounds to me like you're still trying to save my soul? Have you no ears or eyes?
What really gets to me is that these people are walking the street so of Naperville doing whatever they're trying to do, in people's faces, and refusing to listen to the other person. They are so ready for a fight, for someone to disagree, and they can't even tell when someone is NOT disagreeing, they just simply don't wish to engage when someone pulls them away from their day and refuses to let them go.
These people are representing Christians. It really makes my blood boil. That was far from a Christ-like encounter, and in the name of Christianity.
I'm having horrible flashbacks to prayer and witnessing nights in high school going on the streets with other youth group members and talking to people in Naperville about Jesus. Let's see how impersonal we can make Christianity. Let's see how annoying we can be. I actually ache for the people that get encountered on those sorts of things. What a travesty.
I do commend the courage it takes to walk up to someone and just start doing that. I do commend the passion one must have to do this in such a way. But really don't agree with it. Maybe in another time, another place, or another culture. Not here, guys, not here.
Not only is it pissing off those who are not Christians, but it's pissing off those who are.
I still have no idea what the student's point was. They were very defensive and kind of offended by the end of the "conversation", which is a shocker. They're offended? Who pulled me away and talked at me in my face with disregard to anything I had to say?
After the man told me to "consider this" I stared at him with my eyebrows raised and said, "Okay" in an angry tone, and walked away. My grace was gone. I had none for them. Not entirely Christ-like on my end either, but it seemed as though there was no other way to escape.
Who is raising up Christians like this? I'd like to write a letter and let them know what's on my mind.
Already I don't really like Naperville, and I feel the liberty to truly say that since I lived there. I realize not EVERYONE has their nose stuck up in the air in that city, but a lot of them do.
Since I've moved back to the suburbs from the mountains I have done my darn best to stay away from that city. The drivers get meaner there, the skin gets more cancerous there (tanning beds), the makeup gets thicker, the douche bags get douchier. You get the picture. It just is. I don't like even merely walking the sidewalks. But that is not the point of this.
The point is the closest Barnes N Noble to me is in Naperville, and I was doomed to drive into the depths of this city to go browse the books. This time around my experience wasn't turning out so bad. I went in, I browsed, (the guy at the checkout line had some serious anger issues, but nobody's perfect) and I walked out holding the door for a couple of folks walking in. Just about to turn the corner for my escape those couple of folks came charging around after me introducing themselves as So-and-so Blah-Blah from the Theological Yadda-Yadda there in downtown Naperville. Okay, I thought, this aught'a be interesting. And, on she goes. And on and on and on and on, "Yadda yadda blah blah, over and over and some more blah blah, and the bible says that God represents both male and female, so he has a feminine side as well. So what are your thoughts on that?"
Let's get a clearer picture of not only what I'm hearing, but what I'm looking at. I'm looking at a trendy girl with point to make. She's standing with one foot closer to me and the other foot back, and from the waist up she is leaning at me, talking at me (not to me, there's a big difference), uncomfortably close to my face, looking me straight in the eye. If she's actually a friendly person, she didn't show it. It seemed like she was ready for a fight.
Back to the "conversation". I respond to her inquiry, "Well that's a really broad thing to just give my thoughts on all of the sudden. Can you narrow down what you're looking for a little bit?" That's a pretty direct question, right? You'd think a direct answer would be simple. But on she goes, "Well, the bible says that yadda yadda blah blah blah blah blah, and blah blah, and Jesus is coming a second time, and he already came once, so when he comes again that will be the second coming of Christ, so blah blah blah blah blah. Are you a Christian?"
"Well, yeah, actually," I responded.
"Would you be interested in getting together to talk about this more?"
"Not really. I have my own church and community that I'm a part of. I'm actually not really interested in talking about this right now, either."
That was a shocker. She was ready for defense at this point.
What would be the proper response to someone who you bothered on the street corner minding their own business who said that they didn't want to continue the conversation? Say, "thank you for your time", and be on your way. What's the very, very wrong way to respond to this? Look to the woman in my face...
"Well the bible says that Jesus is coming a second time, yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda, and on and on and on and on............................" I kid you not, she talked so much I really just stopped listening.
I interrupted getting a bit angry at this point, "Okay, so what is your point here? Are you trying to 'save' me? I told you that I am already a Christan and I'm still not interested in talking about this with you. So can you tell me what the point of all of this is right now? I came in to get my book and go home. Now I want to go home. I'm not interested in this conversation." How many times do I have to say it?
It became clear that everything I say to her went in one ear and out the other, and her voice got louder and more dominant, "Jesus is coming a second time................... blah blah..................... blah blah...............[more loud talking at me]"
I interrupted again, "Listen, I told you I have a church and a community who I can talk to this stuff about if I want to, and right now I don't."
There was a man who was standing off to the left of her and a little bit behind her, her back-up. Finally she gave up on my salvation and looked back at him. He chimed in saying the exact things that this girl kept repeating over, and over, and over, and over again to me about Jesus' second coming, and ends with, "We really need you to just consider this".
Did I NOT just tell you that I wasn't interested in talking about this? Did I not just say that I had a church and community of other Christian folk? Because it sure as hell sounds to me like you're still trying to save my soul? Have you no ears or eyes?
What really gets to me is that these people are walking the street so of Naperville doing whatever they're trying to do, in people's faces, and refusing to listen to the other person. They are so ready for a fight, for someone to disagree, and they can't even tell when someone is NOT disagreeing, they just simply don't wish to engage when someone pulls them away from their day and refuses to let them go.
These people are representing Christians. It really makes my blood boil. That was far from a Christ-like encounter, and in the name of Christianity.
I'm having horrible flashbacks to prayer and witnessing nights in high school going on the streets with other youth group members and talking to people in Naperville about Jesus. Let's see how impersonal we can make Christianity. Let's see how annoying we can be. I actually ache for the people that get encountered on those sorts of things. What a travesty.
I do commend the courage it takes to walk up to someone and just start doing that. I do commend the passion one must have to do this in such a way. But really don't agree with it. Maybe in another time, another place, or another culture. Not here, guys, not here.
Not only is it pissing off those who are not Christians, but it's pissing off those who are.
I still have no idea what the student's point was. They were very defensive and kind of offended by the end of the "conversation", which is a shocker. They're offended? Who pulled me away and talked at me in my face with disregard to anything I had to say?
After the man told me to "consider this" I stared at him with my eyebrows raised and said, "Okay" in an angry tone, and walked away. My grace was gone. I had none for them. Not entirely Christ-like on my end either, but it seemed as though there was no other way to escape.
Who is raising up Christians like this? I'd like to write a letter and let them know what's on my mind.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Looking through these windows
There are many things Facebook is not good for. Two weeks ago I took a week off from the F-book and barely want to go back on for some of these good-for-nothing reasons. What, might you ask, are some of these things? Well, there is the obvious, of course. There is the fact that it starts to slowly suck up more time than you had ever planned it would, that it is an easy thing to jump onto when you're bored.
Things that I wasn't expecting to feel when I finally signed back into Facebook after that 7th day, though, have become more reason than the rest for me to want to stay away: Envy, nostalgia, longing, sadness. It mostly has to do with where I am at in my life right now. I'm sure not everyone signs onto Facebook and has a rush of these feelings being sent through every vein in their body. My news feed is packed with those Colorado friends of mine doing awesome things, going awesome places. Photographs of big rocks, and mountain landscapes, wild animals. Then I look out my window which sits behind my computer screen and see a lattice fence, a big house, but just a sliver of sky. My front door? More houses, fancy cars. Out my windows at work? A Starbucks drive-thru, stoplights, more fancy cars, giant grocery stores.
When I looked out my windows in Colorado I saw herds of elk, Mt. Ypsylon towering over the surrounding snow-caps, bathing in the sun. I saw trees and trees and trees. My heart is aching in pain thinking about it all.
The excitement and freshness of being in a new place (I use "new" loosely) has now officially worn off. No longer do I feel like I'm on another adventure in life. I feel like I live in the Chicago Suburbs. I feel horribly different from the people around me. I feel like I don't really fit in anywhere here. I can't get out to anywhere that gives me life until I jump in my car and drive at least two hours away, but the mind of the culture here in the suburbs is to keep you close by making these gas prices ungodly high. That way you don't go too far. You keep close to the shopping malls, salons, fancy restaurants and expensive coffee shops. A day off here is going to get ice cream, going out to eat, or some other form of spending money.
What was a day off in Colorado? Mountains. Nature, activity.
I know God is everywhere. He is omnipresent. He meets you where you need to be met. But I am having trouble finding him here. My most glorious experiences of God is in the nature of the world around us. I see His bigness in those Mountains and rock formations, and his delicacy in wild flowers and small wild animals. His strength in the elk and mountain lion, and the rushing rivers. God surrounds me while I'm traveling in adventure whether I like it or not, whether I ask for him to or not. He's there.
Now I'm in a culture that doesn't really celebrate that part of the world. God's artwork has been striped and replaced with four, five, six-lane highways, big buildings, and car dealerships. I'm sitting in a cafe now, and looking out this particular window I see the neighboring store: Autumn Woods. Nice, right? Actually it's a home furnishing store. "Kitchens, Bathrooms, Bars, Entertainment, Counter-tops, Home office". Everything you need to stay couped up in your air conditioned house and never leave.
It feels like a part of me is dying inside. I listened to God when he asked me to move here for community, for whatever the hell it is that he want's me here for. It was exciting not to know. But now I'm here. I'm living day to day, hour to hour. I had a dream last night that I moved back to Colorado. I was SO excited to be going back so soon. As soon as I had unpacked all my things, I plopped down in my bed and realized that I had made a HUGE mistake. I had to get back to Illinois and I had no idea what for.
What's going on here? I don't want to just wait around for some big awesome thing to be happening. I want to live my life, but I don't know what that looks like here, now. I know that part of me is just waiting for whatever to happen so that I can leave and get on with my life. That's not right either. But I'm afraid my soul might die here before I can ever start to find life in this place.
Holding back my tears in this public place, I pray God, please meet me here. I have so much more to pray for, but have lost the ability to express it.
Things that I wasn't expecting to feel when I finally signed back into Facebook after that 7th day, though, have become more reason than the rest for me to want to stay away: Envy, nostalgia, longing, sadness. It mostly has to do with where I am at in my life right now. I'm sure not everyone signs onto Facebook and has a rush of these feelings being sent through every vein in their body. My news feed is packed with those Colorado friends of mine doing awesome things, going awesome places. Photographs of big rocks, and mountain landscapes, wild animals. Then I look out my window which sits behind my computer screen and see a lattice fence, a big house, but just a sliver of sky. My front door? More houses, fancy cars. Out my windows at work? A Starbucks drive-thru, stoplights, more fancy cars, giant grocery stores.
When I looked out my windows in Colorado I saw herds of elk, Mt. Ypsylon towering over the surrounding snow-caps, bathing in the sun. I saw trees and trees and trees. My heart is aching in pain thinking about it all.
The excitement and freshness of being in a new place (I use "new" loosely) has now officially worn off. No longer do I feel like I'm on another adventure in life. I feel like I live in the Chicago Suburbs. I feel horribly different from the people around me. I feel like I don't really fit in anywhere here. I can't get out to anywhere that gives me life until I jump in my car and drive at least two hours away, but the mind of the culture here in the suburbs is to keep you close by making these gas prices ungodly high. That way you don't go too far. You keep close to the shopping malls, salons, fancy restaurants and expensive coffee shops. A day off here is going to get ice cream, going out to eat, or some other form of spending money.
What was a day off in Colorado? Mountains. Nature, activity.
I know God is everywhere. He is omnipresent. He meets you where you need to be met. But I am having trouble finding him here. My most glorious experiences of God is in the nature of the world around us. I see His bigness in those Mountains and rock formations, and his delicacy in wild flowers and small wild animals. His strength in the elk and mountain lion, and the rushing rivers. God surrounds me while I'm traveling in adventure whether I like it or not, whether I ask for him to or not. He's there.
Now I'm in a culture that doesn't really celebrate that part of the world. God's artwork has been striped and replaced with four, five, six-lane highways, big buildings, and car dealerships. I'm sitting in a cafe now, and looking out this particular window I see the neighboring store: Autumn Woods. Nice, right? Actually it's a home furnishing store. "Kitchens, Bathrooms, Bars, Entertainment, Counter-tops, Home office". Everything you need to stay couped up in your air conditioned house and never leave.
It feels like a part of me is dying inside. I listened to God when he asked me to move here for community, for whatever the hell it is that he want's me here for. It was exciting not to know. But now I'm here. I'm living day to day, hour to hour. I had a dream last night that I moved back to Colorado. I was SO excited to be going back so soon. As soon as I had unpacked all my things, I plopped down in my bed and realized that I had made a HUGE mistake. I had to get back to Illinois and I had no idea what for.
What's going on here? I don't want to just wait around for some big awesome thing to be happening. I want to live my life, but I don't know what that looks like here, now. I know that part of me is just waiting for whatever to happen so that I can leave and get on with my life. That's not right either. But I'm afraid my soul might die here before I can ever start to find life in this place.
Holding back my tears in this public place, I pray God, please meet me here. I have so much more to pray for, but have lost the ability to express it.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
flowers, bitches.
If I could I would work 20 hours a week, be super poor, and do all the fun things that I love to do. I'd have all the flexibility in the world, and be completely happy. All you two-jobbers out there amaze me. That is not something I would ever want to put upon myself. Never will I submit myself or my time to the position of holding two jobs... except for this one week.
I'm currently in transition from going from Starbucks to Trader Joe's, and the working is overlapping by one week.
Shoot me now.
Yesterday I got to enjoy my first day at Trader Joe's at a not-so-bright and early hour of 5am. After getting off work at 130pm I made my way right over to Starbucks where I worked a full shift from 2pm-10pm. That's allotah work, dude. But it gets better.
The next morning I oh-so enjoyed waking up at 4am to start my second day at Trader Joe's at 5am for another hearty eight-hour shift (no Starbucks to follow.. thank the heavens above).
But oh, it get's better.
Errit. Rewind. When I first scheduled my interview I actually forgot the day it was scheduled for about five minutes after I hung up the phone with the person. Awesome. I had to call back later to find out when my interview was scheduled for.
tirrE. Fast forward. Yesterday, when I showed up for my "first day" everyone was acting funny around me for a few minutes until I was approached to be told that I actually wasn't supposed to start until the next day. Oh, wait, you mean that brain thing up there is for storing useful and important information such as really essential things about when I'm supposed to be interviewed and start a new job? Why did they hire me again?
Because I work 23 hours in two days and don't complain about it, bitches. Okay. Sorry. When my eyelids start to shut down, the gloves come off, the vulgarity comes out. Deal with it, bitches.
Just kidding ;)
Anyway. Now I'm going to transition this from saying vulgar words to talking about Jesus. It's a big leap. Live a little (I should be telling that to myself for the last 48 hours of my life I just lost spending most of it clocked into a time-punch, answerin' to Tha Maan.)
Back to Jesus.
Yesterday when I had about four hours left of my working day I was about to lose it. I was trying to multitask with little to zero brain power, and then a poor new-hire got stuck with me to train him on Drive Thru while I was being the miserable, sad little girl that I was. Whaaaa. No coffee in the world could give me enough energy for this. But I pushed through, so, so, so in love with my bed when I got to un-gracefully trip into it when I finally got home to take a nice long nap in the middle of the night before my long morning at TJ's the following day, my "first day", right? Serious run-on sentence.
This morning, going in for that last, long full shift at TJ's I was summoned to go work with Cindy in Flowers for the morning. From 5am to 830am Cindy and I talked and arranged flowers. I unpacked the most beautiful calla lilies, orchids, sunflowers, marigolds, and savored the aromas of the potted herbs. My whole morning zipped by in a joyful, sensual chapter. As soon as my fingers grazed the edges of those velvet flowers I felt the Lord taking care of me. I prayed all week that I would survive these long few days. On the home-stretch God pairs me up with the flowers and says, "I take care of you, Sarah". I was energize by the life, the colors, and the beauty. All my senses were adrift, thinking mostly about a fluffy bed, probably. At 5am this morning they came together and were brought to life.
I was struck by how fragile those flowers seemed... and were, really, but how resilient they actually were with the help of a little water, sun, and love. I felt like those flowers in a lot of ways today.
They thanked me for taking care of them by giving me life.
And I thank my God for taking care of me by being a part of his body and taking joy in his creations, including the people around me, and those colorful flowers.
I'm currently in transition from going from Starbucks to Trader Joe's, and the working is overlapping by one week.
Shoot me now.
Yesterday I got to enjoy my first day at Trader Joe's at a not-so-bright and early hour of 5am. After getting off work at 130pm I made my way right over to Starbucks where I worked a full shift from 2pm-10pm. That's allotah work, dude. But it gets better.
The next morning I oh-so enjoyed waking up at 4am to start my second day at Trader Joe's at 5am for another hearty eight-hour shift (no Starbucks to follow.. thank the heavens above).
But oh, it get's better.
Errit. Rewind. When I first scheduled my interview I actually forgot the day it was scheduled for about five minutes after I hung up the phone with the person. Awesome. I had to call back later to find out when my interview was scheduled for.
tirrE. Fast forward. Yesterday, when I showed up for my "first day" everyone was acting funny around me for a few minutes until I was approached to be told that I actually wasn't supposed to start until the next day. Oh, wait, you mean that brain thing up there is for storing useful and important information such as really essential things about when I'm supposed to be interviewed and start a new job? Why did they hire me again?
Because I work 23 hours in two days and don't complain about it, bitches. Okay. Sorry. When my eyelids start to shut down, the gloves come off, the vulgarity comes out. Deal with it, bitches.
Just kidding ;)
Anyway. Now I'm going to transition this from saying vulgar words to talking about Jesus. It's a big leap. Live a little (I should be telling that to myself for the last 48 hours of my life I just lost spending most of it clocked into a time-punch, answerin' to Tha Maan.)
Back to Jesus.
Yesterday when I had about four hours left of my working day I was about to lose it. I was trying to multitask with little to zero brain power, and then a poor new-hire got stuck with me to train him on Drive Thru while I was being the miserable, sad little girl that I was. Whaaaa. No coffee in the world could give me enough energy for this. But I pushed through, so, so, so in love with my bed when I got to un-gracefully trip into it when I finally got home to take a nice long nap in the middle of the night before my long morning at TJ's the following day, my "first day", right? Serious run-on sentence.
This morning, going in for that last, long full shift at TJ's I was summoned to go work with Cindy in Flowers for the morning. From 5am to 830am Cindy and I talked and arranged flowers. I unpacked the most beautiful calla lilies, orchids, sunflowers, marigolds, and savored the aromas of the potted herbs. My whole morning zipped by in a joyful, sensual chapter. As soon as my fingers grazed the edges of those velvet flowers I felt the Lord taking care of me. I prayed all week that I would survive these long few days. On the home-stretch God pairs me up with the flowers and says, "I take care of you, Sarah". I was energize by the life, the colors, and the beauty. All my senses were adrift, thinking mostly about a fluffy bed, probably. At 5am this morning they came together and were brought to life.
I was struck by how fragile those flowers seemed... and were, really, but how resilient they actually were with the help of a little water, sun, and love. I felt like those flowers in a lot of ways today.
They thanked me for taking care of them by giving me life.
And I thank my God for taking care of me by being a part of his body and taking joy in his creations, including the people around me, and those colorful flowers.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Beatus and praus
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Yesterday morning I woke up and read the Beatitudes. The term comes from the Latin word Beatus, which sort of translates to Blessed. Fortunate, blissful, happy. Here, Jesus presented to us an ideal for Christianity that has more to do with compassion and and love. These are the values that Christ cares about out.
Blessed are the meek.
This one stood out to me.
They shall inherit the earth.
It's easy to read the Bible and take some of it in literally, and some as some sort of figure of speech that really means something else. I'm really no expert on these ancient times, their ways of speaking, the translations, the culture. Often times I can get left in confusion, so I take a little in at a time.
But here I find myself reading:
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
Jesus probably doesn't clump these things together with some of them having just a spiritual meaning, and some just having a literal meaning. It's got to be one or the other. Most all of these beatitudes can be said literally. We shall be called sons of God, and we will be in the Kingdom of Heaven, we'll receive mercy. All these things I learned growing up in Sunday school.
But what about inheriting the earth? That one is a little different. If the rest are to be heard literally, then this one should too. How do we take literal inheriting the Earth? What does that mean? Is it going to matter one day when the Christ returns to us to take us home. Home, I have often hoped, is much like this earth we live on, this beautiful place He made. Maybe it is this earth, restored to what it was meant to be.
Will the meek inherit the earth in the days to come before Christ returns to us? Will the meek inherit the earth after Christ returns to us? Will heaven be here on earth? I understand that we should be stewards of the earth and take care our planet here, but how does inheriting the earth compare to the rest of these beatitudes? If we follow these beatitudes we can see God, have the Kingdom of Heaven, receive mercy, be satisfied with our hunger towards righteousness. These are very literal, and spiritual-based things. Inheriting the earth is a much more tangible thing than the rest, and if it were meant to be spiritual as well, how does that work? How do we spiritually inherit the earth?
Now let's talk about what meek means. From the Greek word praus, it was used to refer to domesticated animals. Not wild animals. Powerful domesticated animals like oxen, who serve great purpose. Meek, we could say, means strong and in control. Not weak or passive. I read somewhere that "the meek see God, and they see God in everything." Truly. He is in the world around us and the people around us just as an artist is in all of his artwork. So we can be comforted that, although the wicked occupy this world for a time, God is in all things around us. God is in beauty and truth.
To become meek, we must take a sense of belonging of the earth, but only through God, as all things are His. We must be humbled by his presence in these things. When I think of meek, now, I think of a mountain man: living off the earth, taking care of what is around him, respecting the power of nature, as well as the beauty delicacy of it all. Living with it, not living on it, or despite of it.
I want to be meek. I want to inherit the earth. I want to be an advocate for this creation we live in.
Still, when I take it apart I understand it more. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. But I still have questions that go along with this beatitude. I don't need answers always. The desire is to be meek. God will take care of the rest.
"...Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body and what you will put on. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?... Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."
Yesterday morning I woke up and read the Beatitudes. The term comes from the Latin word Beatus, which sort of translates to Blessed. Fortunate, blissful, happy. Here, Jesus presented to us an ideal for Christianity that has more to do with compassion and and love. These are the values that Christ cares about out.
Blessed are the meek.
This one stood out to me.
They shall inherit the earth.
It's easy to read the Bible and take some of it in literally, and some as some sort of figure of speech that really means something else. I'm really no expert on these ancient times, their ways of speaking, the translations, the culture. Often times I can get left in confusion, so I take a little in at a time.
But here I find myself reading:
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
Jesus probably doesn't clump these things together with some of them having just a spiritual meaning, and some just having a literal meaning. It's got to be one or the other. Most all of these beatitudes can be said literally. We shall be called sons of God, and we will be in the Kingdom of Heaven, we'll receive mercy. All these things I learned growing up in Sunday school.
But what about inheriting the earth? That one is a little different. If the rest are to be heard literally, then this one should too. How do we take literal inheriting the Earth? What does that mean? Is it going to matter one day when the Christ returns to us to take us home. Home, I have often hoped, is much like this earth we live on, this beautiful place He made. Maybe it is this earth, restored to what it was meant to be.
Will the meek inherit the earth in the days to come before Christ returns to us? Will the meek inherit the earth after Christ returns to us? Will heaven be here on earth? I understand that we should be stewards of the earth and take care our planet here, but how does inheriting the earth compare to the rest of these beatitudes? If we follow these beatitudes we can see God, have the Kingdom of Heaven, receive mercy, be satisfied with our hunger towards righteousness. These are very literal, and spiritual-based things. Inheriting the earth is a much more tangible thing than the rest, and if it were meant to be spiritual as well, how does that work? How do we spiritually inherit the earth?
Now let's talk about what meek means. From the Greek word praus, it was used to refer to domesticated animals. Not wild animals. Powerful domesticated animals like oxen, who serve great purpose. Meek, we could say, means strong and in control. Not weak or passive. I read somewhere that "the meek see God, and they see God in everything." Truly. He is in the world around us and the people around us just as an artist is in all of his artwork. So we can be comforted that, although the wicked occupy this world for a time, God is in all things around us. God is in beauty and truth.
To become meek, we must take a sense of belonging of the earth, but only through God, as all things are His. We must be humbled by his presence in these things. When I think of meek, now, I think of a mountain man: living off the earth, taking care of what is around him, respecting the power of nature, as well as the beauty delicacy of it all. Living with it, not living on it, or despite of it.
I want to be meek. I want to inherit the earth. I want to be an advocate for this creation we live in.
Still, when I take it apart I understand it more. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. But I still have questions that go along with this beatitude. I don't need answers always. The desire is to be meek. God will take care of the rest.
"...Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body and what you will put on. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?... Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Bikes and Bodies
Two summers ago I decided to let this boy I knew wisk me away to Branson to be his girlfriend. I had everything on my back. My travel pack was stuffed full of everything I needed (and probably more than what I needed). I had been living in Central California with few responsibilities, less money, and nowhere to be. It turns out it's a lot easier to live without a car out West than it is in Southwest Missouri, so one day Aaron found some bikes on craigslist for me, fixed one of them up, and once again I was mobile. I first got on it and wobbled around a bit, unsure of where the height of the seat should be, afraid to turn a corner too sharp, scared of steep hills. Guy, my childhood neighbor, taught me how to ride when I was five years old. I spent many childhood years riding my bike to the candy store and to the park. It had been awhile, though, and it felt like it was going to take some good practice to get back into the rhythm of this riding-my-bike thing. I struggled up small hills (emphasis on the small), yet braved my way through the streets of Branson in the rain or shine. When I say braved, I mean it. Bransonites aren't exactly used to anyone riding their bikes on the streets. Most of them had no idea what to do with themselves when they found me peddling away off to the right of the lane. But for the sake of my freedom, I endured.
Soon enough I found riding my bike to be some of the most enjoyable moments in my day. I loved leaving my neighborhood on my way to work and passing the RV park next to the lake, shaded and content, old men playing guitar under their awning lit with chili pepper lights. I dreamed and hoped that one day my future husband and I would be a happy old RV couple with chili pepper lights. Laugh. But it's true.
On my way home from work it was usually dark. The humid night air felt refreshing on my bare skin after changing out of my work clothes and into bicycling clothes. My headlamp dimly lit my path in front of me as I headed home and down the hill towards the RV park, once again. A wall of cold air would hit suddenly when I neared the lake, and my soul was filled with joy.
That bike brought me freedom and joy.
Fast forward a bit.
January 2011: It was horrible. I lost my nephew, my first love left forever on a train, my car broke down, I was broke (all within the same week, mind you). So I moved to Champaign on whim. I had a fever and a sore throat the morning I left to catch the train from the Burbs down to Central Illinois. It was 4am and blizzarding outside. I had a garbage bag and a backpack full of what I needed to get settled but barley had the strength in my body to hold on to it all. Once got moved into Kati and Jeremy's spare bedroom I was going to bed at 8:30 on a nightly basis; My heart was deeply sad.
I finally decided to make a special trip up to Chicago to pick up my beloved bike. My baby. My freedom. I took her everywhere. I fixed her up, gave her new handlebar tape, protected her from the elements, and rode her around town like nobodies business. Once again, she gave me freedom.
My nightly bike rides back from work started to liven my soul and invigorate me once again. Endorphins were flying all over the place! I felt alive. My body loved it, my soul loved it, and I'm pretty sure the environment loved it.
Relying on my bike brought me out of deep pit of sadness. I truly think things would have been different if I hadn't been dependent on her.
Once again, now, back here in Illinois, my bike saves my soul. Coming from a place in Colorado where I was surrounded by beauty, adventure, and freedom, I'm now surrounded by stoplights, cars, and beauty salons. Escape comes but two blocks away from my front door where the Prairie Path begins. I can follow it towards marshes, forests, little lakes, and most recently... Wisconsin.
I have come from struggling up teeny little hills in the road to feeling like my bike is now just another appendage of mine. How amazing is it that we can fit whatever we need on the backs of those things, and they roll with us? Bigger adventures are yet to come. Perhaps one day I'll even get rid of my little Abigail Von Wedge and seek to live with only Abigail Von Bike. Ride Across Illinois? Down the Pacific Coast? Across the Country? Around the world?
I am inspired and invigorated. That bike carries me through and away from hard times, and into adventure and freedom.
What a truly wonderful blessing it has been that my car was stolen three years ago in January. That one incident continues to shape my life. Without that, none of the following years would have evolved as they did.
Our bodies are strong and AMAZING things. God has gifted us with these amazing bodies. Treat it well, do with it what you love to do. Get drugged up by those endorphins. They're life savers.
Remember, though, our bodies and minds are linked together. So much of it is mental. If you think you can, you can. I truly believe that. Tell yourself that you're amazing. You are.
This is a great link:
Women on Wheels
Soon enough I found riding my bike to be some of the most enjoyable moments in my day. I loved leaving my neighborhood on my way to work and passing the RV park next to the lake, shaded and content, old men playing guitar under their awning lit with chili pepper lights. I dreamed and hoped that one day my future husband and I would be a happy old RV couple with chili pepper lights. Laugh. But it's true.
On my way home from work it was usually dark. The humid night air felt refreshing on my bare skin after changing out of my work clothes and into bicycling clothes. My headlamp dimly lit my path in front of me as I headed home and down the hill towards the RV park, once again. A wall of cold air would hit suddenly when I neared the lake, and my soul was filled with joy.
That bike brought me freedom and joy.
Fast forward a bit.
January 2011: It was horrible. I lost my nephew, my first love left forever on a train, my car broke down, I was broke (all within the same week, mind you). So I moved to Champaign on whim. I had a fever and a sore throat the morning I left to catch the train from the Burbs down to Central Illinois. It was 4am and blizzarding outside. I had a garbage bag and a backpack full of what I needed to get settled but barley had the strength in my body to hold on to it all. Once got moved into Kati and Jeremy's spare bedroom I was going to bed at 8:30 on a nightly basis; My heart was deeply sad.
I finally decided to make a special trip up to Chicago to pick up my beloved bike. My baby. My freedom. I took her everywhere. I fixed her up, gave her new handlebar tape, protected her from the elements, and rode her around town like nobodies business. Once again, she gave me freedom.
My nightly bike rides back from work started to liven my soul and invigorate me once again. Endorphins were flying all over the place! I felt alive. My body loved it, my soul loved it, and I'm pretty sure the environment loved it.
Relying on my bike brought me out of deep pit of sadness. I truly think things would have been different if I hadn't been dependent on her.
Once again, now, back here in Illinois, my bike saves my soul. Coming from a place in Colorado where I was surrounded by beauty, adventure, and freedom, I'm now surrounded by stoplights, cars, and beauty salons. Escape comes but two blocks away from my front door where the Prairie Path begins. I can follow it towards marshes, forests, little lakes, and most recently... Wisconsin.
I have come from struggling up teeny little hills in the road to feeling like my bike is now just another appendage of mine. How amazing is it that we can fit whatever we need on the backs of those things, and they roll with us? Bigger adventures are yet to come. Perhaps one day I'll even get rid of my little Abigail Von Wedge and seek to live with only Abigail Von Bike. Ride Across Illinois? Down the Pacific Coast? Across the Country? Around the world?
I am inspired and invigorated. That bike carries me through and away from hard times, and into adventure and freedom.
What a truly wonderful blessing it has been that my car was stolen three years ago in January. That one incident continues to shape my life. Without that, none of the following years would have evolved as they did.
Our bodies are strong and AMAZING things. God has gifted us with these amazing bodies. Treat it well, do with it what you love to do. Get drugged up by those endorphins. They're life savers.
Remember, though, our bodies and minds are linked together. So much of it is mental. If you think you can, you can. I truly believe that. Tell yourself that you're amazing. You are.
This is a great link:
Women on Wheels
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Of all the places
Today I surprise my parents. By the time this blog is posted my family and I will have stood around my new bedroom in my new house and explained that I'm not actually visiting... I'm staying, man.
That is scary. This week has been an overwhelming one. I'm from here- this greater Chicago area. I've also been back here countless times after I moved away into the world of traveling gypsy. This is different. This time I am over-sensitive to my surroundings. After having lived in Estes Park for eleven months (a big feat on my part- The Drifter) my surroundings have become not only a place my body is, but a place my spirit is and a place my spirit feeds off of. Mountain after mountain lined up, just miles away from where my feet were planted, huge snow caps. When the darkness falls it still does not cover the majesty of the mountains; the moon will shine and the snow caps will still glow. The bears and foxes come out. In the day time the elk gather in massive herds, and all things feel as though they should be.
Then I hopped in my car and changed my life. How did I change my life? I don't know yet, I just have this deep feeling that this coming year in life will be a big one. A huge one. Probably not and easy one. But here I stand in the middle of too many cars, busy roads, and an over-stimulated culture. I am overwhelmed. A pretty big part of me just wants to be back to where I am comfortable. Back in nature, where I can just walk to the base of most of those mountains from what used to be my front door. I miss my dear Joanna, and I miss going to work at probably one of the best jobs I've ever had. The reasoning for that being the people; the people I worked with who I keep so close to my heart, and the people who would come into our store for their caffeine fix. I have a whole lot of love for them.
But now I pray for continuing trust, and peace. If I didn't have either of those things to begin with I wouldn't be sitting in my new house, in my new living room, right across the street from my sister and her family in Wheaton, Illinois. Wheaton... of all places. Of all the places in the world I have lived, of all the beautiful things I have seen and done, of all the ties I have and places I could be, here I am.
The Lord is doing something exciting. I'm actually a little scared. I feel like I am sitting here in the dark waiting to have a glimpse of light be revealed to me about what I am here for. Right now I know nothing. I just trust.
A fitting week this is to move here: Holy Week. I've attended some of the services at my new church here and already have had an inexplicable flood of emotions come from just a couple of powerful evening services. These services are meant to mourn the death of Christ before his Resurrection. How fitting these services are to my emotional state here, now. I feel as though I am also mourning a death of a part of myself, eager to have a resurrection of my own.
Until then, I sit in the quiet darkness with my God and I trust him. In that I find comfort.
That is scary. This week has been an overwhelming one. I'm from here- this greater Chicago area. I've also been back here countless times after I moved away into the world of traveling gypsy. This is different. This time I am over-sensitive to my surroundings. After having lived in Estes Park for eleven months (a big feat on my part- The Drifter) my surroundings have become not only a place my body is, but a place my spirit is and a place my spirit feeds off of. Mountain after mountain lined up, just miles away from where my feet were planted, huge snow caps. When the darkness falls it still does not cover the majesty of the mountains; the moon will shine and the snow caps will still glow. The bears and foxes come out. In the day time the elk gather in massive herds, and all things feel as though they should be.
Then I hopped in my car and changed my life. How did I change my life? I don't know yet, I just have this deep feeling that this coming year in life will be a big one. A huge one. Probably not and easy one. But here I stand in the middle of too many cars, busy roads, and an over-stimulated culture. I am overwhelmed. A pretty big part of me just wants to be back to where I am comfortable. Back in nature, where I can just walk to the base of most of those mountains from what used to be my front door. I miss my dear Joanna, and I miss going to work at probably one of the best jobs I've ever had. The reasoning for that being the people; the people I worked with who I keep so close to my heart, and the people who would come into our store for their caffeine fix. I have a whole lot of love for them.
But now I pray for continuing trust, and peace. If I didn't have either of those things to begin with I wouldn't be sitting in my new house, in my new living room, right across the street from my sister and her family in Wheaton, Illinois. Wheaton... of all places. Of all the places in the world I have lived, of all the beautiful things I have seen and done, of all the ties I have and places I could be, here I am.
The Lord is doing something exciting. I'm actually a little scared. I feel like I am sitting here in the dark waiting to have a glimpse of light be revealed to me about what I am here for. Right now I know nothing. I just trust.
A fitting week this is to move here: Holy Week. I've attended some of the services at my new church here and already have had an inexplicable flood of emotions come from just a couple of powerful evening services. These services are meant to mourn the death of Christ before his Resurrection. How fitting these services are to my emotional state here, now. I feel as though I am also mourning a death of a part of myself, eager to have a resurrection of my own.
Until then, I sit in the quiet darkness with my God and I trust him. In that I find comfort.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Mother Nature: Mama Hater.
Driving home in the cold night air, thinking about how wonderful my two-hour massage on Thursday is going to be, and how so very much I need it.
I pull into my neighborhood that is well-known to trap vehicles into the abyss of the mountain hills for a long, long time. So I gun it. Thirty miles an hour and I make it to my driveway, the deep snowdrift in my driveway not phasing me because my mind is not in the snow. It's in the clouds. Until a snowball hits my nice little daydream and my car stops.My car is severely stuck halfway into my driveway.
Temper ensues. Rage. My dirty sailor mouth tells Mother Nature how I really feel about her, and instead of her giving me a little gust of wind behind me to boost my fruitless slander and smashing my gas petal, she laughs at me in anger. Mwah ha ha.
I get out of my car, wind thrashing my hair into my eyeballs and whipping the straps from my backpack in my face (sweet revenge from Mama Hater). Every step I take balances gently atop the snow drift, and then my foot plunges deeply to the depths of the ground beneath me almost sending my face to the snow every time. "EFFF YOU WIND! EFFF YOU SNOW! YOU SUCK MOTHER NATURE!!!", my voice lost in the roar of the wind. I kick the snow at her with no avail, and almost fall again. Snow fills my boots, wind in my face, cold darkness surrounds me, and my front door seems like it's 97 miles away.
The door slams shut an hits me in the butt. I throw my keys on the counter and pout like a little girl.
Joanna's suggestion: A flame thrower. But she doesn't suggest a flaming torch to melt the snow in our driveway; she quietly knocks on my door with a soft voice, "Sarah," and I open as she shares her idea of a flame thrower complete with motions as if she's holding a machine gun, feet planted, torching our hellish driveway with what it deserves. Death. Flames. Melting horror! All I see is Joanna outside in her pajamas with goggles on, fiery glow in her face, holding a giant torch, laughing heartily, hot wind blowing, and melting away the evils of what Mama Hater has brought upon our household.
We fall to the ground in exuberant laughter.
Mother Nature, why you hatin'? Next time you bring this upon us Joanna and I will indeed flame your ass.
I pull into my neighborhood that is well-known to trap vehicles into the abyss of the mountain hills for a long, long time. So I gun it. Thirty miles an hour and I make it to my driveway, the deep snowdrift in my driveway not phasing me because my mind is not in the snow. It's in the clouds. Until a snowball hits my nice little daydream and my car stops.My car is severely stuck halfway into my driveway.
Temper ensues. Rage. My dirty sailor mouth tells Mother Nature how I really feel about her, and instead of her giving me a little gust of wind behind me to boost my fruitless slander and smashing my gas petal, she laughs at me in anger. Mwah ha ha.
I get out of my car, wind thrashing my hair into my eyeballs and whipping the straps from my backpack in my face (sweet revenge from Mama Hater). Every step I take balances gently atop the snow drift, and then my foot plunges deeply to the depths of the ground beneath me almost sending my face to the snow every time. "EFFF YOU WIND! EFFF YOU SNOW! YOU SUCK MOTHER NATURE!!!", my voice lost in the roar of the wind. I kick the snow at her with no avail, and almost fall again. Snow fills my boots, wind in my face, cold darkness surrounds me, and my front door seems like it's 97 miles away.
The door slams shut an hits me in the butt. I throw my keys on the counter and pout like a little girl.
Joanna's suggestion: A flame thrower. But she doesn't suggest a flaming torch to melt the snow in our driveway; she quietly knocks on my door with a soft voice, "Sarah," and I open as she shares her idea of a flame thrower complete with motions as if she's holding a machine gun, feet planted, torching our hellish driveway with what it deserves. Death. Flames. Melting horror! All I see is Joanna outside in her pajamas with goggles on, fiery glow in her face, holding a giant torch, laughing heartily, hot wind blowing, and melting away the evils of what Mama Hater has brought upon our household.
We fall to the ground in exuberant laughter.
Mother Nature, why you hatin'? Next time you bring this upon us Joanna and I will indeed flame your ass.
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