Sticky note: junior high

“There’s no need to miss someone from your past-
There’s a reason they didn’t make it to your future”

"Never fight for anyone that isn't willing to fight for you"

These were over dramatic status updates from the same girl. She posted a series of
them like this for quite awhile and as much as I hated them I kept them. They seemed
dumb and at the same time they seemed like advice that I needed to be taking. Advice
that I neither wanted to take nor believe was true.

9/30/11

Sticky note: kiss a tree

"I'm so happy I could just kiss a tree!"

I have no idea. But someone said it and it must have brought
some joy to my day, because I wrote it down.

9/29/11

Sticky note: I'm gonna leave you

"I'm gonna leave you the first chance I get."
-"The River" by Manchester Orchestra

Every time I hear it I feel it. I don't like that this resonates with me.

9/28/11

Sticky Notes

The date is 11/21/11 at 3:34am. I have just gone in and filled up all the blank spaces between that day and this one with the contents of the virtual sticky notes on my screen. It's a documentation of the silly, the deep, and the things that strike me hard enough to make me write them down (only to be forgotten on my desktop). These quotes have been on my computer a long time and I think the fact that I put them up and left them there for so long says something. So there they are: a tribute to the days I left out and the sticky notes that abound.

9/27/11

You can't stop the beat

9/26/11

Etser

God made a helper for man.

An "etser"
And people like to tell me
that that sums up woman's relationship to man.
That that gives definition to my life.

Well I'm a woman.
And the same word is used to describe God's relationship to Israel.
He's an etser.
And he's a leader.
So I like to remind people that man needed something else.
Someone to be his partner.
A "kenegdo"
An equal.

So as being a part of mankind.

I feel like I need an etser.

And I think that's biblical.

9/25/11

Sit Back And Relax

Putting together James Project, had it been all in my control, would have been an epic failure this week. I had no food and no way for us to get there. And not very many people. And I was starting to panic a bit by the day before. But through an off handed conversation I realized that one of the people going was old enough to be van certified, and so I asked him early in the morning if he would take the quiz and lo and behold he took matters into his own hands. He took the quiz, got van certified, went and picked up the keys, and took care of everything.

Hallelujah.

I called Plant Services and there happened to be a van available at such short notice.

Hallelujah.

During the late night 80's Dance I ran into a friend who happened to be security and he met me afterwards to let me into a closet to get work supplies.

Hallelujah.

After the 80's dance I ran into two friends who decided they wanted to go to James Project as well. They drove me to the store after midnight to buy lunch supplies, helped me make decisions on what to get and the next day provided a cooler and ice for me to use for it all.

Hallelujah.

The next day some people showed up that weren't signed up and I didn't know they were coming, and after worrying all week that we wouldn't have enough people to really accomplish anything we had twelve people ready to go: just enough to fill the van completely.

Hallelujah.

And the whole day that we worked the sun was hot and we were dripping sweat but it was completely beautiful outside and we loved it. We laughed and worked hard and kept good spirits. We spent a long time relaxing and eating lunch together by the creek, dipping our feet in the cold water and collecting giant bugs. We laughed and connected and it didn't feel like work at all: it felt like we were a group of friends just spending an enjoyable day together.

Hallelujah.

God orchestrates everything to work out perfectly. He brings people into our lives that play Christ to us, and he makes sure we are completely provided for. Key people were Christ to me leading up to and during James Project and I could not be more thankful to them for their hearts of gold. I was shown grace and mercy when I most needed it, and despite the fact that I'm the leader of James Project, God clearly showed me that he is the leader of James Project and my only job is to set up the dates and allow his amazing people be his hands and feet in the world.

Hallelujah.

9/24/11

Left Behind

I thought you'd be here to help me:
now I feel left behind.


9/23/11

From Flickr
left: "••• Astrid" by Society Works
top right: "Good tea." by artistfriendship
bottom right: "indigo coffee for two" by charliegriffiths

Battery Days

I work better when battery powered,

But I'm looking to change that,

Permanently.

9/22/11

"Paul Helleu Sketching with his Wife" by John Singer Sargent, 1889

It's okay to breathe.

"It's okay to fail."

Nate Rigby

Last year I definitely had to learn that it's okay to fail. I tried as hard as I could and studied hard, but I still got a D in Chemistry and should not have even gotten a C in molecular. I learned a lot, came to terms with the fact that those are not things I'm good at, and that I put in an honest effort even if it wasn't my everything. It wasn't my ideal situation but I was able to move on. Maybe because I decided it was okay to fail, but maybe it was also because I didn't care very much.

It hit me while sitting in psychology class as Nate Rigby said that's it's okay to fail, that that could apply to other things as well. Maybe it can apply to people and relationships of all kinds too. Is it okay to fail in relationships? Class is just class, a sport is just a sport, a hobby and skill are just a hobby and a skill, but people are much more sacred than those things. It means much more to have people fail you or to fail others--that's much more serious.

So is it an all encompassing statement that it's okay to fail? I asked my friend, "when is it not okay to fail?" and she looked at me and said: "Ice climbing." Point taken. Some failures will always be grievous. So are relationships one of them? The song I'm listening to ironically just stated, "Everything will be okay." And maybe that's the real point. It's okay to fail because in the end everything will be okay. It'll be alright.

I want it to be okay to fail in relationships because when I hear that I find great comfort: I feel like I can breath again. But I don't believe it. I don't believe it's okay and that's why I'm still tortured. It's like the classes I did so terribly in: I can't go back and do them again. I could retake them but that would set me behind, and I know I can't do better in them. Partly because I don't think I'm capable intellectually, but also because motivationally I don't think I have it in me to put that kind of effort forward.

And I know with my failed relationships I can't go back. Nothing will change, I wouldn't do anything differently, I need to keep moving forward, and I need to say it's okay and go on. Maybe the point is not that it's okay to fail, it's that I am a failure and that's okay. We're in a fallen world and I am not perfect, but it's okay to be a failure. Sometimes our failures are painful and the consequences severe, but the fact remains that those failures will always be disappointing to look back on, but what really sticks with us and plagues us is not the past, it's our present state and our not being able to forgive who we are.

I don't want to feel okay about the friendships I've had that ended in explosive disagreements, abandonment, and betrayal. I don't want to feel okay about the relationships that ended in apathy and lies. I don't want to feel okay because I don't care enough. I do want to feel the present and real forgiveness that God has bestowed on me as an imperfect failure in this world so that I can continue to function in peace. I do want to feel okay about the state of the present moment in time that I breath in and out every moment. It's not always okay to fail: that I have decided. But it is okay to forgive and live in forgiveness. That peace is healthy. Knowing that God has claimed that it is okay gives me peace that I was not allowing to exist. Restoration will come and it'll be okay.

I can breathe.

"Remember To Breathe" by Dashboard Confessional

9/21/11

Body=Soul

"Neurons that fire together wire together"

So says my General Psychology professor. It's like Pavlov's dog: you hear the bell and you automatically slobber. It's a conditioned response. It works the same way with addictions. People see their old friends that they used to shoot up with, familiar places and settings, and it doesn't matter if they've kicked the habit, those nerves have wired together and they start desiring a fix. I wonder how many other things in life this works with. And I look at my own life and my thought patterns and habits and it worries me. I worry about what has wired together in me and I need to know if those neurons can be separated, because I know there are patterns that I need to break and things that need to change. My spiritual struggles are linked to my physical and psychological functioning: my neurons are affecting my soul, and though observing my brokenness is tragic, I also observe the beautiful interplay of body and soul and see a more whole self. So often we separate the body and soul in our language and belief system that we don't recognize that they are so completely woven together and overlapped as to be inseparable.

My neurons need to be separated and it is a struggle of the soul.
And I do hope they can be separated.

9/20/11

TimeWise

Last year I was always busy with things I hated,
And I was overwhelmed and couldn't keep up.
This year I am busy with things I love,
And I am overwhelmed and can't keep up.

Just because you love what you do,
does not mean you have time to do it all.

9/19/11

Sometimes it hurts instead.

9/18/11

Sabath

It's always guess work when I try to figure out what I need. Sometimes I need to hop on my bike, sometimes I need to sleep, sometimes I need to charcoal someone dancing, sometimes I need to be outside, I need to be around people, I need to bake, I need to write, and sometimes I don't know what I need and it turns out to be...anime? When I was young I watched a lot of anime, and my older sister and I used to watch a show called Card Captor Sakura when I was in elementary school. After a long day of serving the community and being faced with my inadequacies as a leader and servant I proceeded to study until late into the night. I got home and didn't know what I ndeeded, exhausted and emotionally stuffed to bursting, I flopped onto my bed and prayed for the internet that never works at night. And God was merciful. Full bars appeared, I searched until I found the name of the old show, youtubed it, and watched episodes into the next day. And as exhausted as I was, I was satisfied and emptied of the overwhelming feeling that had threatened to break me down.

Sometimes I don't know what I need as a release. It's not always as simple as biking or drawing or taking some quiet time alone. We'll never completely know ourselves and as much as falling in love with someone is a continually process of learning about them and getting to know them as they change, falling in love with ourselves is a continual process of being surprised as we learn more about ourselves. I found humor, learning, and affection in being faced with myself today. My sabath came just in time and it came in the form of a fourth grade girl flying around in costumes capturing magical cards. Thank you, Jesus.

9/17/11

Better to smell the roses late than never.

Dressed nice for my average business oriented day and walking to a meeting, I got a text from a friend that said, "You've seemed to be pretty busy recently, so I just wanted to remind you to not forget to stop and smell the roses every so often, so to speak." I laughed it off. But I wasn't laughing later as I rushed about trying to make deadlines, get to meetings, and make tough decisions. Someone told me they hated me today: that's a first. I made the decision to not see someone because that's what was best despite what I wanted: that's a first as well. So I did what I do best when I'm stressed out: I hopped on my bike and rode away. I wanted to leave it all on the pavement. All the busyness: on the pavement. All the rejection: on the pavement. All the heartbreak: on the pavement. All the anger: on the pavement. The past: on the pavement. I rode to beat the sun: I could see it beginning to set as I whipped onto the highway. Past the corn fields and hazelnut farms, the sprinklers and the factories. As the sky began to turn orange and the sun began to float down behind the hills I came to my destination: the heirloom roses. A massive sprawling rose garden jammed packed with every kind of wild, tea, climbing, and whatever other kind of rose you can think of. I leaned my bike against a fence post, walked over to a tall yellow rose bush, and stuck my nose into the fragrant petals of one its flowers. I took a moment to stop and smell the roses. Someone invited me to to go the beach and said they had forgotten to invite me until just then: better late than never, they said. And I figure that applies to a lot of things. Better to pursue my hobbies late than never. Better to demonstrate self control late than never. Better to take time for myself late than never. Better to do what's best late than never. And as I jumped back on my bike and the day began to come to a close with a pink and orange sky contrasting against bright green fields split with green sprinkler water, I figured it was better for me to take the time and smell the roses late than never. And hopefully the things in my life that plague me ferociously or silently in my soul will find restoration someday, and that too I figure will happen and it will be better late than never.

9/16/11

Photograph titled "Wild Roses" by PhotoBal on Flickr

Just Joy

I've taken plenty of biology classes and I've used a microscope plenty of times. I know my way around a lab. But all the new basic skills we've been learning in microbiology have had me feeling belittled and lame. The first cell staining: three tries. The second type of cell staining: four tries. The third type of cell staining, two and a half hours later: one try. There is nothing like the feeling of joy that comes with success. After worrying, stressing, feeling inadequate and wounded, there is nothing like the elation that comes with a job well done. Especially on the first try. I've never been so excited to see E. coli and Staphylococcus in my life. My relationship with science has always been rocky and figuring out lab technique is always a challenge for me, but I am a capable individual and will remember perserverance and hope this year, even when they're so easy to forget.

But really the most important thing that stood out to me was how good it felt to be happy. To be overtaken with joy is a beautiful thing. To not be able to hold back from yelling and the smile that spreads across your face. I want more of that. Just that.

Just joy.

9/15/11

Bookmarks

I was excited to finally get to make one of the journals I kept seeing around: the ones made out of the covers of old books. I sat looking at the old novels in front of me: some with rough worn covers and a simple title and some old colorful childrens books. I picked up an old rough green book with the dark red words, "The Wright Brothers" printed on it. I began flipping through its pages when it stopped, the pages parted by a slim white piece of paper. I pulled the paper out of the book and read it.

In tight cursive:

Jeanne-
Sorry I can't buy any
film until about May 5th.
We just barely have enough
for our food.
From your Mother who is
too stupid to have a better
income.

In larger child's scrawl on the other side:

Dear Mommy:
HERE's Payment
FOR Film: TO
My SMart,
Beuatiful
Mommy (heart)me

My heart skipped a beat and I stopped and stared at the note for a long time. In the end I decided on a children's book and slipped the note inside. The girl who chose the "Wright Brothers" book to make her journal out of gave me the spine as a book mark.

There's such a story here. A story of a cynical mother who wishes she could do better for her children and a young child, I imagine a young a girl, who thinks the world of her mommy and wants to do what she can for her. It's a story of love, pain, forgiveness, and life. I want to honor their story through remembrance and also through my actions as I live by Jeanne's example of forgiveness, encouragment and giving, and sympathize with others for the sake of her mother. I will make their bookmark my own and hopefully one day when my books are sold and it is left in their pages, another soul will come along and find it, and learn those same lessons.

9/13/11

I will not be in want.

Today I was pushed to the brink and so overwhelmed I could barely function: a weekend gone, homework to do, a time crunch, a broken washing machine, hostility, apathy where there had been love. But lately God has been sending me acquaintances to take care of me and that is what he did today as well. As the last straw was pulled on me after a day of one thing after another, and I was about to walk away in tears, an old acquaintance stepped in asking me if I needed a friend, telling me that he would help me with the task at hand. Sweet relief. My faith in people has been nonexistent lately. It was significantly healing to be shown that there are still people out there that are willing to give of themselves and their time. And not just to give of themselves to those they love and are close to, but to give of themselves for someone they barely know and have no attachment to. God is in the acquaintance and God lives through other people. Thank you acquaintance for being good to me. Thank you God for standing there and catching me as my world collapsed today.




We sang this song on retreat and it's been with me all day long. I love this woman singing it. peartreemom on youtube singing aaron strumple's Twenty-Three.

9/11/11

Challenger

For awhile I've felt like God has created me to be a leader. On the Spiritual Life retreat we did a personality assessment test and I was labeled as the "Challenger." I walk a fine line between being domineering, controlling, intimidating and being a protector, motivator, and rallier. I find this to be completely true of myself and who I am. I am confrontational and unwilling to be controlled. I like to cut to the chase, get things done, and have an inner power to push and force change in my world. One part of the definition from www.enneagraminstitute.com says, "Decisive, authoritative, and commanding: the natural leader others look up to. Take initiative, make things happen: champion people, provider, protective, and honorable, carrying others with their strength." There's so much more to it, but being a challenger and understanding that I am an Enjolras in my world adds another layer to my understanding of what God has planned for me. The force of will that he's worked in me makes me believe that he has a plan to put me in a posititon where that character is needed: I think he'll place me in a position of great adversity and I look forward to being able to burn in my full potential.

9/10/11

Fallible

I recently saw a young man in the quad whom I thought was wearing a purple skirt. I even told some people that I'd seen him, no name included, and that I found it very peculiar. I saw him today wearing a pair of shorts that were baggy and had the same pattern. I carried on a minute or two argument with someone else today, (it was more like a playful disagreement) over whether or not they had sung a certain bridge during a worship service he'd led the other day. Finally he realized what I was thinking and said that yes there was a bridge to that song, but sang the one it really was and I realized I was wrong. In psychology we've been discussing confirmation bias and the fact that there are things we cannot test with science, the ways we perceive our world are heavily biased, and our memories leak. It makes me realize that I don't know everything, that the world is not always the way I think it is, and it scares me how fallible our view of God is as well.

I may see green where he sees blue, I may remember the thief wearing a red shirt when someone else says it was stripped, I may remember a song wrong based on my previous experiences and memories leaking, and I may perceive God in the world completely different than someone else, maybe even completely different than the truth. It says in Job 9:11, "Behold, he passes by me, and I see him not; he moves on, but I do not perceive him." Everyone is fallible including myself and it makes me wonder how I will find complete truth in world that doesn't know how to go about discovering it. I ask the question, and even as it leaves my finger tips God reassures me that he will make known his truth. He's got that small confident smile on his face as he looks at me, I believe his hair is a shaggy dirty blond and he is relatively young, and he tells me: you will know. I will make sure you know.

I have no worries about my own fallibility, just trust that he will make sure I know.

9/9/11

See Ya Later

For serve day today we went to a families house that has two extremely sick children. We had an opportunity to complete their back patio, spruce up their garden and their three neighbors across the streets' gardens, clean their house, and just fellowship. The family told us all about how hard it has been for them to have two children in and out of the hospital, constantly on medications, going into surgery, and never knowing how long they have left with either one. But I was inspired as their father spoke to us: his strength, hope, and perseverance were so evident. They were marks of courage that could only be God breathed.

As I heard the stories of their sons it got me thinking about the value of life. Thousands of dollars, hundreds of hours spent in a hospital, so much maintenance, surgery after surgery after surgery to save a life that may not last beyond the next moment. Month after month of exhaustive effort to keep a body alive that is practically comatose. When is enough, enough? Is there ever a point in which the quality of life does not outweigh the action of living? It was a frightening thought process: one I didn't care to admit. I wondered if it made me a monster to even consider such a thing. Or maybe my ethics are simply different than the typical Americans. Maybe my ethics are damaged.

But there was a moment in which I experienced a parents love. As their son sat slumped in his wheelchair, him being awake or sleeping never an option to know, his mother leaned over him from behind and pressed her lips to his cheek for a long moment. She looked at him and then leaned in again to give him a long long kiss. God had given this boy life, and that life had been entrusted to two parents who where hellbent on giving him the best quality of life they could muster. Theirs was a parents love that directly demonstrated the love of God to his children and it spoke volumes. There are people on earth that God knows are not going to make it. That he knows he will never walk on streets of gold with. But he leans down from heaven and gives them a prolonged kiss: lavishes his grace on them for as long as he can before it's too late. This family taught me the love of God today. They taught me his character and they taught me that every second is worth fighting for to give love and love and more love to a human being.

The "See Ya Later" foundation was founded because of a boy, Scotty, who had cancer but was always the face of hope. He would go to the other hospital rooms and encourage the other sick children and share the gospel with them. And up until his last gloriously encouraging breath he told people that he would see them later. As I shook the father's hand before we left his house, I, without thinking, told him, "see ya later." It was a pink spoon moment. As the irony hit me and as I realized the legacy of Scotty and God's grace was being passed in a handshake I experienced a piece of heaven.

Life is so very worth it.

9/7/11

http://www.seeyalater.org/

The Chain

9/6/11

A Taste Of Heaven

On Sunday I went to Newberg Christian Church and a friend and I were handed little pink Baskin' Robins taste tester spoons. When the sermon was told it was all about heaven and it's characteristics. The pastor began to talk about what it means to get little "tastes" of heaven: watching his sister preach to children in a third world country, watching his son by a bonfire. I left that day and didn't have much time to change and get my bike ready for a ride. I met up with an aquaintance and it turned out to be just him and I. So we took off down the highway onto a route I'd never been before. Down a country road with no shoulder, past open yellow fields, and overflowing rose gardens, past hanging hops farms, giant factories and dark skinned workers. I felt like I was in a foreign country surrounded by things I had never seen before and couldn't completely understand.

We found a clearing to the river with mexican workers playing their loud salsa music, carried our bikes down the rocky beach and leaned them up against the twigs and vines. He went and changed into a pair of shorts and I stripped down to my shorts and sports bra, and like a couple of kids from Huckleberry Finn he jumped in the river and I climbed out across a giant fallen tree to leap into the water. There was a moment in which I swam out to a thick tree limb submerged in the water, resting in the sun, and I sat down on it and let the sun warm my feet through the flowing icy water, while he was climbing around on the end of the tree trunk trying to figure out how to use it like a diving board, and I got a taste of heaven. It wasn't an "aha" moment, it wasn't filled with incomparable joy, but it was certainly freedom. There were no expectations, no anxiety, no discomfort; just the filtered sun, the chilly water, the smell of animal on the river, an adopted cousin, and beautiful moment.

We dried off in the sun and he skipped rocks while I only managed to spin them clumsitly into the water. We biked back in the baking sun, flying down the side of the road pushing ourselves hard, and making good, easy conversation. It was like a day in the Kingdom. And maybe I can imagine it someday; racing out the gates of the new Kingdom down golden side walks with a brother, finding new places, traveling great distances, pushing ourselves hard, jumping in rivers, and enjoying the never ending time.

It was a pink spoon day.

9/5/11

FAT

I did a survey to get credit for my psychology class and it was a survey completely geared toward women and their self image. I didn't think much of it before I took it-I realize that my culture puts pressure on me to look perfect and skinny and what have you; it's not a new concept to me. But the questions started out asking about my mother. What is her self image like? And I answered honestly, confirming that she wishes she were thinner, feels the need to diet, comments on women being beautiful when they're thin, and has been critical of my image, even if it's not my weight. And the questions about my father went the same way. And the questions about my close friends went the same way. And I got off my computer, walked into the kitchen, and there were two of my close friends for the next half hour on and off, one male and one female, complaining about how they're overweight, how they shouldn't be eating so much, and talking about the way other people look as well. Ah. The idea that my culture puts pressure on me took on a whole new meaning.

Every single person that has influenced my life growing up and sharing life with me now has been critical of body size. Critical of their own and critical of others. It surrounds every conversation about clothes, food, beauty, and excersize. People larger than me want to be thinner and people smaller than me want to be thinner. People smaller than me talk right in front of me about how they wish they were skinnier because they think the way they look is disgusting. They think "fat" people are disgusting. And it makes me look at myself and worry. Worry that every single person around me is determining their own worth by their body size, judging others according to theirs, and therefore making assumptions about me based on mine.

I look at myself, and I am okay with myself. But I interact with the world around me and feel fat. Feel "not good enough" because no one seems to think they look good enough so why would anyone think that I do? And there's no pretty conclusion here. Just the realization that I am surrounded by physically critical people that have been making me physically critical of myself since birth.

So to all of you people that look just fine
and are obsessed with criticizing your weight,
(Please) Shut up.
You're making me uncomfortable.
The oldest sculpture we have,
The oldest glimpse into the first culture,
which honors a woman's beauty
is this:


Where did those days go?
I want them back.

9/4/11

Mine

I am tired.
And I don't want to write.
I don't want to be personal.
And I don't want to give you a thing.
I don't want to give anyone anything.

I just want to write.
I want to write my soul.
And it's certainly not for you.
It's certainly not for anyone but me.
So that I can learn from my honesty.

And no one is going to learn anything tonight but me.

9/3/11

Forgiveness

I dreamt last night,
oh marvellous error,
that there were honeybees in my heart,
making honey out of my old failures.
-Antonio Machado

While sitting in Old Testament Literature it rushed upon me and crashed like a swelling wave. My story of rejection is God's story of rejection. The story of God's relationship with humans is a story of a broken relationship. He forms a relationship with his soul mates and they go behind his back and betray him, he's angry and he's hurt and he's tempted to completely throw them out forever. But he knows what's holy, and he wants to forgive them so he keeps his relationship with Noah and stays faithful to these people as they wrong him over and over again. He never stops pursuing the renewal of that relationship. He continues to help us, forgive us-which is a process, teach us what's right and how to relate to him-while still allowing us the free space to be ourselves and have our own personalities. I have gone through so many relationships with people that have ended in being wronged and rejected, and that is also the way it is with God. He is searching for that renewal with us. The woman searching for the coin: God searching not just for us but for the renewal and forgiveness of the relationship between each one of us. If God is that example to me, than how much more should I seek out doing the same with others? How much more should I seek out PEACE? The King forgives the servant and I the servant need to forgive my fellow servant.

It's language that I've heard before. All themes that have been presented to me in the past about renewal and forgiveness, but it was never so personal as when I realized that I am to God as all the people I've been battling to forgive are to me. God's relationship with me became much more real, and the state of our relationship and what him and I are working toward became much more clear.

God opens our eyes. He gives and he takes away in Good time.

9/2/11

I found that quote in the art gallery at our school at the new exhibition. I think God has placed honeybees in my heart that seemed like the turmoil of failed friendships and are now creating honey out of my past.

War

My heart was made very apparent to me recently. Something I couldn't explain occurred, and instead of digging deeper to the core of it, I placed the blame on who I believed was most likely in error. Because it made sense, because it's happened before, because it's in their character, because it gave me an outlet for the anger I already had stirring against them. And then the situation turned out to not be at all the way I thought and I realized that for all my intentions of forgiveness, the brutal and vulgar feelings I was carrying around in my heart, though carefully hidden, were still very much there. And I was mortified by the state of my heart, the state of my soul, and the depths to which my anger had ingrained itself. The war raging within me had never been more mortifyingly apparent.

There's a war of the flesh, and it rages between our desire for the holy and our desire for the righteous. I heard a sermon this last Sunday that was all about forgiveness and the process that it entails. The pastor used the acronym PEACE: Prayer Empathy Act Confess Example to describe the process of forgiveness: forgiveness defined as a renewal and a peace between two people, but it comes with wisdom as well. Wisdom that tells you when it's okay to be with someone and maintain a living relationship and when it's better to keep space and distance as acquaintances or nothing at all. In both cases, renewal and peace can still be worked. And in my life there are people in which tension, anger, judgment and revenge still boil in my intentions and part of my soul screams that I've been wronged and am entitled to cut them out, never say anything to them again, and think the worst of them. Another part of me wants to pray for them, empathize with why they do what they do, be honest about how I feel toward them and my desire to change, take ownership for my part of the dissension and remember the example that Jesus lived for me to follow. But it's a constant war. There are plenty of people that keep telling me that I'm sending mixed signals about what I want with people, that I just need to make up my mind, but it's war of the heart and it's not that simple. As the pastor at Newberg Christian said, "We need to act ourselves into a new way of thinking instead of think ourselves into a new way of acting." I want to take action toward forgiveness even if my other actions won't always line up with that.

The song "Skin & Bones" has been stuck in my head for days and seemed fitting, but I got it from this dance on SYTYCD and upon watching it back realized that the dance is quite fitting as well. It fits not only as an allusion of my struggle with myself but also as a representation of my struggle with others, the parts being interchangeable.

9/1/11

Long and short moments in one day.

A second can make all the difference. How long did it take me to get out of bed when I heard a loud knock at my door? How long did we stand there talking before I invited him? How long did I pursue searching half heartedly for his wallet in my house? How long did he choose to make small talk before leaving? What are the odds that after looking both ways before crossing a street a bike and a car would be trying to occupy the same space at that exact moment in time? Right after leaving my house today my friend got hit by a truck while on his bike, and came out of it with just a slightly damaged body and spirit. And it makes me ponder the second. Ponder the moment. What are the odds that we would have taken just the right amount of time at each and every step to place him in that position? I remember that during the whole exchange I felt pushed along, like I was on fast forward for some reason, as though time was trying to meet a deadline and I was being swelled forward as on a wave. I envision that each moment is a snap shot on a movie reel, each second is designated for a slow upward treck or a fast downward hurl as on a rollercoster track, and as I let the moments steep in the systematicaly fading now, I am made accutely aware of the feud bewteen coincidence and destiny.

*

When you're busy with things you love, it makes all the difference. But still there's something more important than loving what you do, and that is loving who you're with. There are plenty of people that I am surrounded by that are real friends to me. But there are plenty of real friends that I am surrounded by that, though they have taught me the real definition of unconditional patience, loyalty, and forgiveness, are not my soul mates. They are not the kind of people that stop breathing for the same things as me, but the kind of people in which rolled eyes, confused furrowed brows, and laughing alone are common. So I've been lonely, but have also found immeasurable comfort in the presence of another soul typing away next to me, slipping in and out of long silences and short chatter late into the night, night after night.

8/31/11