Just flew into Amsterdam. On the airplane, I watched the movie Juno. Very cute. I was sitting next to four loud women who were traveling together. One was Italian. And drunk. In the middle of the flight, after one too many individual bottles of chardonnay, she started yelling at her co-travelers and cursing at them. It was awkward.
I’m reading a book by Miroslav Volf, it’s called Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace. What a great title. I’m only about 50 pages into it but already I am encountering some truths my soul desperately needs to understand. Volf emphasizes the fact that we are dependent on God and that He is the ultimate Giver. He quotes Martin Luther who said, “We are beggars – that is true.” It’s ironic that only in our utter reliance on God are we able to somehow find freedom. He created us, He gives us our every breath, and all that we have is from Him. That’s such a foreign concept. In this world, in our human relationships, dependency is a bad thing except for infants; being dependent on another strips us of dignity, it obligates us, it ties our hands. How is it that accepting our position as receiver to the divine Giver can set us free? How is it that we can present our open hands to Him in fearless expectation that He has given, is giving, will always give?
Next stop: Nairobi.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
On the move
Just off the phone with my mother and she reminded me it had been a while since I've posted...It's good to have a mom.
Since the last post, I've watched the lunar eclipse from a rooftop in Haiti and am now back at the Baltimore airport waiting to get on a plane that will take me to (Detroit, another plane to Amsterdam, another plane to Nairobi, an overnight in Nairobi, and finally a plane to) Kigali, Rwanda. Perhaps on one of the flights I will write something more insightful than that statement of fact. For the moment, I can't process much that's going on except to say I'm prepared to be in Africa for the next month.
My flight is boarding now...
Since the last post, I've watched the lunar eclipse from a rooftop in Haiti and am now back at the Baltimore airport waiting to get on a plane that will take me to (Detroit, another plane to Amsterdam, another plane to Nairobi, an overnight in Nairobi, and finally a plane to) Kigali, Rwanda. Perhaps on one of the flights I will write something more insightful than that statement of fact. For the moment, I can't process much that's going on except to say I'm prepared to be in Africa for the next month.
My flight is boarding now...
Saturday, February 9, 2008
the funny thing about feelings
By most measures, this week was a good week. Richard had his 5-year colonoscopy and the results were normal. I had a number of productive days and very good meetings at work. I went out with my closest friend to see a play. I made progress in "exorcising some ghosts" from my life, as I mentioned I had to in my last post.
So the question I ask myself right now is, Why do I feel so unimpressed with my life? Why is there a tightening in my chest and a restlessness in my heart? Maybe it's not even worth asking the question. I don't know.
For Lent (and for my own mental health) I have given up "TV." We don't actually get any reception on our television set, so what I mean is that I have given up watching television programs online. I knew I had to do something when I had finished one-and-a-half seasons each of Friday Night Lights, Gray's Anatomy and Heroes and all the available episodes of Battlestar Gallactica. All in a relatively short stretch of time. Truly, I have felt myself get stupider. I used to be so smart, it's quite sad really. So now I'm trying to remember how to read and do other things that don't involve streaming video. If I were really ambitious, I'd give up the internet too, but (let's be serious) that's not going to happen until I'm forced.
So the question I ask myself right now is, Why do I feel so unimpressed with my life? Why is there a tightening in my chest and a restlessness in my heart? Maybe it's not even worth asking the question. I don't know.
For Lent (and for my own mental health) I have given up "TV." We don't actually get any reception on our television set, so what I mean is that I have given up watching television programs online. I knew I had to do something when I had finished one-and-a-half seasons each of Friday Night Lights, Gray's Anatomy and Heroes and all the available episodes of Battlestar Gallactica. All in a relatively short stretch of time. Truly, I have felt myself get stupider. I used to be so smart, it's quite sad really. So now I'm trying to remember how to read and do other things that don't involve streaming video. If I were really ambitious, I'd give up the internet too, but (let's be serious) that's not going to happen until I'm forced.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Ghosts
Life is interesting. I wrote not long ago that change is in the air -- I can feel it, I can almost touch it. I don't know what it will be, but it is coming.
Maybe it's just a part of the preparation, but I feel lately like there are some ghosts I have to deal with. To exorcise. I was speaking with a pastor from Nairobi, Kenya, who was just visiting Baltimore for a few days last week. He said he felt like a lot of the sudden violence they're experiencing along ethnic lines was something that had to be released, like there was too much pressure and the top had to come off, and he predicted that people would be able to move on relatively quickly. Perhaps it's a silly connection for me to make, but the word "exorcism" is what comes to mind in both cases.
I've read a few books on healing and spiritual warfare but I can't say I understand much about it or even deeply believe, although I know I should. In countries all around the world, people experience the spiritual realm in a very physical way, they witness healings regularly, and yet I am confined to my western rational mind that reduces everything to neurotransmitters. I want to see the truth, I want to know the truth. I want to be set free from the demons that haunt me. I want to fight, to stand up and fight.
I'm reminded of the Caedmon's Call song, The Lord is a Warrior. The words are comforting to me. He is mighty in battle, He is mighty to save. And a battle it is.
Maybe it's just a part of the preparation, but I feel lately like there are some ghosts I have to deal with. To exorcise. I was speaking with a pastor from Nairobi, Kenya, who was just visiting Baltimore for a few days last week. He said he felt like a lot of the sudden violence they're experiencing along ethnic lines was something that had to be released, like there was too much pressure and the top had to come off, and he predicted that people would be able to move on relatively quickly. Perhaps it's a silly connection for me to make, but the word "exorcism" is what comes to mind in both cases.
I've read a few books on healing and spiritual warfare but I can't say I understand much about it or even deeply believe, although I know I should. In countries all around the world, people experience the spiritual realm in a very physical way, they witness healings regularly, and yet I am confined to my western rational mind that reduces everything to neurotransmitters. I want to see the truth, I want to know the truth. I want to be set free from the demons that haunt me. I want to fight, to stand up and fight.
I'm reminded of the Caedmon's Call song, The Lord is a Warrior. The words are comforting to me. He is mighty in battle, He is mighty to save. And a battle it is.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Happy Fracking New Year
Richard got me watching Battlestar Gallactica this Christmas. I'm officially a fan. I'm officially compulsively addicted. Add that to the list.
So I now have to update my profile to say "just turned 31," and I should probably also confess to giving away our very fat tabby cat.
Today I passed the homeless man I always pass on my way to or from work. He didn't make eye contact for more than a fraction of a second, and he waved in a dismissive, uninterested way. It was sad, it made my heart hurt. He didn't feel like putting on a smile or nodding his head or pretending like we had some special connection because we saw each other from time to time on Baltimore Street just 4 blocks from the Inner Harbor in front of an abandoned field where he'd built a makeshift fort out of cardboard and old folding chairs and scraps of clothing. Tonight was cold. There was a long line out in front of the shelter/soup kitchen across the street, he didn't seem interested in standing in the line. I wonder, what is the right thing to do?
This weekend I was singing at church -- I was asked at the last minute because two vocalists had to cancel. I always enjoy being on the worship team. This time, I was on with a drummer I've known for a few years now. He's about 26, really sweet guy, very sincere, loves to drum. He used to be part of this Christian boy-band that was popular at our church and has moved onto Nashville (but this drummer stayed behind). He has always seemed a little sad, a little bit like he's wandering and feels like there's something else he should be doing. He seems to truly love God and to love people. He's the sort of person that makes you feel welcome, that makes you feel good. In September, he broke his back. I don't remember the whole story of how it happened, but he had surgery to fuse his spine back together. The pain hasn't gone away -- he walks with a cane, carefully, slowly, he is gentle when sitting down and standing up. He grimaces in pain. It breaks my heart. So this weekend was his first weekend back on the team since the accident, and it was hard. He looks remarkably at peace when he's playing the drums and he plays them perfectly, but it takes all the energy he has and the pain must be almost unbearable after each service. I didn't think he'd make it all the way through the 4 weekend services (and his doctor had advised against it), but he did. He felt he had to, to prove that he could do it, that perhaps all hope was not gone and perhaps God would see that He really needed to heal him. Perhaps God would work a miracle.
This week at work is difficult. I don't feel like I have the skills or the patience or the wisdom to make our partnerships successful. I feel unworthy. I feel frustrated with our organization for its chaos and dysfunction and petty arguments. I was directed to Psalm 77 this morning, instructing me to remember God's work and God's deeds, to remember He is a God who performs miracles. I am unworthy. We are dysfunctional. I don't have what it takes to make everything work. But I remember God and all that He is and does and will do. May this be a year of miracles.
So I now have to update my profile to say "just turned 31," and I should probably also confess to giving away our very fat tabby cat.
Today I passed the homeless man I always pass on my way to or from work. He didn't make eye contact for more than a fraction of a second, and he waved in a dismissive, uninterested way. It was sad, it made my heart hurt. He didn't feel like putting on a smile or nodding his head or pretending like we had some special connection because we saw each other from time to time on Baltimore Street just 4 blocks from the Inner Harbor in front of an abandoned field where he'd built a makeshift fort out of cardboard and old folding chairs and scraps of clothing. Tonight was cold. There was a long line out in front of the shelter/soup kitchen across the street, he didn't seem interested in standing in the line. I wonder, what is the right thing to do?
This weekend I was singing at church -- I was asked at the last minute because two vocalists had to cancel. I always enjoy being on the worship team. This time, I was on with a drummer I've known for a few years now. He's about 26, really sweet guy, very sincere, loves to drum. He used to be part of this Christian boy-band that was popular at our church and has moved onto Nashville (but this drummer stayed behind). He has always seemed a little sad, a little bit like he's wandering and feels like there's something else he should be doing. He seems to truly love God and to love people. He's the sort of person that makes you feel welcome, that makes you feel good. In September, he broke his back. I don't remember the whole story of how it happened, but he had surgery to fuse his spine back together. The pain hasn't gone away -- he walks with a cane, carefully, slowly, he is gentle when sitting down and standing up. He grimaces in pain. It breaks my heart. So this weekend was his first weekend back on the team since the accident, and it was hard. He looks remarkably at peace when he's playing the drums and he plays them perfectly, but it takes all the energy he has and the pain must be almost unbearable after each service. I didn't think he'd make it all the way through the 4 weekend services (and his doctor had advised against it), but he did. He felt he had to, to prove that he could do it, that perhaps all hope was not gone and perhaps God would see that He really needed to heal him. Perhaps God would work a miracle.
This week at work is difficult. I don't feel like I have the skills or the patience or the wisdom to make our partnerships successful. I feel unworthy. I feel frustrated with our organization for its chaos and dysfunction and petty arguments. I was directed to Psalm 77 this morning, instructing me to remember God's work and God's deeds, to remember He is a God who performs miracles. I am unworthy. We are dysfunctional. I don't have what it takes to make everything work. But I remember God and all that He is and does and will do. May this be a year of miracles.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Week in Winnipeg
There's something that feels so right about being surrounded by mounds of snow at Christmas time. We are virtually buried here and it is cozy and cold and comforting. The temperature has been quite mild, all things considered, and although that is probably the fault of global warming, I'm enjoying it.
Richard and I have carelessly spent the last six days in no rush to do anything more strenuous than watch Battlestar Gallactica, breaking up our days with short walks or card games or visits to friends' homes. Two things have marked our time here: food and family. Both available in abundance, both more than I feel I can handle at times, both I've been tremendously grateful for. There is love and joy here, and much laughter. There is history. We are blessed.
In an hour or so we will go to church, the same church in which Richard grew up. But first, of course, a meal...
Richard and I have carelessly spent the last six days in no rush to do anything more strenuous than watch Battlestar Gallactica, breaking up our days with short walks or card games or visits to friends' homes. Two things have marked our time here: food and family. Both available in abundance, both more than I feel I can handle at times, both I've been tremendously grateful for. There is love and joy here, and much laughter. There is history. We are blessed.
In an hour or so we will go to church, the same church in which Richard grew up. But first, of course, a meal...
Monday, December 24, 2007
Five Degrees
That's the temperature outside. Five degrees. Farenheit. Welcome to Winnipeg.
I am a bad blogger, I know. It's been ages since my last post. I realize that my posting style, like my style of communicating generally, is to only post things that I've thought through somewhat. Or to post about things that I don't ever expect to figure out. I don't really enjoy writing about things that I am wavering about, going back and forth on, changing my mind about every other day but ultimately feel like I eventually have to know the answer. Or eventually I at least have to choose something. And right now, with my life, as I ponder the future, I seem to be stuck in the position: I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. And yes, of course I know there's probably not one right answer, not one path to take, no one decision that will make my life either a Success or a Dismal Failure. But my black-and-white mind categorizes things in this way. So my silence online is matched by the opposite in my head -- endless chatter, noise, thinking, playing out different scenarios. Something is coming, a change is coming, but What Exactly?
Maybe the cold air will clear my head of the noise...
I am a bad blogger, I know. It's been ages since my last post. I realize that my posting style, like my style of communicating generally, is to only post things that I've thought through somewhat. Or to post about things that I don't ever expect to figure out. I don't really enjoy writing about things that I am wavering about, going back and forth on, changing my mind about every other day but ultimately feel like I eventually have to know the answer. Or eventually I at least have to choose something. And right now, with my life, as I ponder the future, I seem to be stuck in the position: I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. And yes, of course I know there's probably not one right answer, not one path to take, no one decision that will make my life either a Success or a Dismal Failure. But my black-and-white mind categorizes things in this way. So my silence online is matched by the opposite in my head -- endless chatter, noise, thinking, playing out different scenarios. Something is coming, a change is coming, but What Exactly?
Maybe the cold air will clear my head of the noise...
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