chasing the sun

Let's get something straight right from the off (she says with her hands on her hips in a suprisingly crisp, but obviously borrowed British accent), my neice is a miracle. I spent the holidays with my family. And though my little 14-month old neice passed on her viral infection to me, I couldn't hold a grudge for long because she is absolutely the cutest thing in the world...no, seriously...she is!

She is at that stage where she is growing and learning at an alarming rate. I won't bore you with cuteness stories, but sufficed to say, she makes me hopeful and she amazes me all at the same time, from her perfect little fingers and toes to the way she tries to say "banana" then giggles when she takes too big of a bite. I love the way she loves and cradles the soft little beanie-monkey I got her for her birthday. She cuddles it under her chin sweetly then passes it off to me, wanting me to love it too because she loves it.

And then I wonder if God ever sits in wonder of and awe of His creation, the way I sit and watch my neice. If he is delighted by me, the way I am delighted by her. And if he is pleased when we love so much the gifts in our lives that he has given us to love...and if he is more than willing to love the gifts we offer to him with sincerity and hopefulness.

All the stuff, the crap I have been going through lately, pales in comparison to the love I have for my neice. Nothing matters when she wants my attention...not even the fact that her mother doesn't love her like she should...because I am there and she has my undivided attention. I want all the world for her and I want her to know how much I love her, even though I can't be with her every day.

This metaphor could go on and on...I am just thankful for the small reminder. In the midst of the craziness that is my mind - always swimming in doubt and fear - I feel a little more peaceful thinking that God loves me unconditionally and finally understanding a little of what that's all about.

Happy New Year.

i am lonely...there, I said it!

This isn't a commentary on the dregs of singleness or anything like that, so don't be scared. It's just that, well, I miss my friends. There's nothing like having people around who don't ask you to repeat and/or explain yourself...people that know you and understand you and don't get upset when you're being ridiculous because they know you're just being you. Honestly, I miss having people around who are actually interested in me not because they have to be, but because they want to be...they aren't checking their watches, making sure they'll have enough time to get to the people they'd really rather be with, but they just sit and smile and make time like they've got time because you are a priority to them.

Maybe this is just selfishness talking, maybe I'm just no good at being a friend. I know that it is really difficult for me to put myself out there, to initiate relationship, to care no matter how my caring will be received. But I have come to this point where it's either fight or flight...either I stick it out and determine that I will care about and matter to this or that person...or else I will run as fast as I can to find someone safe and low-maintenance who will make me feel useful for a while because they are suffering with extreme mental or emotional problems and they need my guidance and help. Then, of course, the cycle will start all over again.

I just want someone to notice...to see that I'm tired of struggling to be important, to matter...(I used to be so tough and impervious to uncomfortable emotions...what the crap!!!)

I can't think about this anymore or my head will explode.

i like Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I like how she makes profound statements rhyme. I used to think I could write poetry, but I was too tempted to steal ideas from greater minds and I don't exactly know how to write a poem about social justice or church reform...so, I stick to prose.

I'm listening to Dido. She reminds me of London. I was only there for a week. Actually it was almost exactly one year ago...I can't believe its been that long. One of my favorite places we went there was the British Museum of History. I would need at least two days to see the thing properly. I think we only had two hours or something. Most of it was spent looking at old coins and the Rosetta Stone, which was very cool. There were also these Assyrian reliefs that depicted all kinds of awful and brutal warfare the Assyrian army concocted to ravage the ancient near east. Yikes. We learned about them in Isaiah class and I saw pictures before I saw the real things. They're monstrous things that take up practically a whole room of the museum.

How precious is history!! (Not a question, actually, its a rather old-fashioned exclamation). I've always loved history. This weekend I saw the history of Broadway on PBS. Very interesting. It's like watching the history of American ethos. I think it was Thomas Jefferson who said that those who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it. I think it is truly beautiful the way history keeps repeating itself. The Assyrians were not the first war-mongers and they definitely weren't the last. But kingdoms rise and fall and don't learn from the former's mistakes...that's why they keep falling.

Dido is singing about sand in her shoes...its amazing how that can be both an annoying and delightful experience simultaneously. I like the way the sand feels when you stand in the tide as it comes in and then washes the sand out from under you (this is where high arches come in handy - you can build your very own bar). Even though the ocean is salty and can burn ferociously if ingested or inhaled (accidentally, of course), I love it. I love the sound and the smell and the way it rocks you if you're a skilled floater, which I am.

Do you think God was being literal or hyperbolic when he said Abraham's descendants would be like the sand or the stars? Just a thought...

Anyway, I'm just a little silly and day-dreamy on this cold, bitter cold Monday. Props to my friend Karla who has made me feel a lot better and little less crazy today.

XXXVII
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
And vibrant tail, within the temple gate

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
from Sonnets from the Portuguese

i started reading "Blue Like Jazz" again today...if you haven't read it please stop reading this, go buy the book, read it and then come back and tell me what you think...seriously, I'm not kidding. I like that book because I feel like I'm listening to the thoughts in someone else's head and heart, the kind you can only put in print because if you said them out loud you might laugh at yourself, or worse, cry and not be able to utter one sentence entirely.

what I am beginning to understand more and more about myself is that I always seem to need to understand the reason or reasons things have for happening or being. Most recently I've wondered what my reason is for happening. Then I think about Jesus. I wonder if he ever wondered why he was who he was...especially when he was a teenager and going through that "awkward phase." Did he have an "awkward phase"?

Jesus was a new thing, a new idea. He wasn't what everyone thought he was supposed to be. He fit few molds as he reached out and touched the dirty, the poor, the prostitutes and sinners that were much too unclean to suit the religious leaders of the day. The thing is, though, that Jesus didn't favor one people group over another...he favored his Father and his Father's ways, which meant he loved everyone. So, if Jesus came on the scene today, maybe he wouldn't be a republican after all...or a democrat...or a Catholic...or a Protestant...or a poor man...or a rich man...or a conservative...or a liberal. Maybe he would be just what he always was...a peacemaker. He was someone who stood between and above the divisions humanity had created for itself.

I think this way of living strikes others as non-participatory. Its like you have to choose a side. You have to be on this side or that side, but you can't just not choose a side because that, well, that's just not how we do things here in America or wherever.

I want more beauty in my life, more mystery. I feel spent and discouraged by the discouragement all around me. It drains me of all enthusiasm for life because I am surrounded by non-magical things. Maybe romantic is a better word than magical…not sappy romantic, but romantic as in unrealistic and impractical. We have lost our souls to pragmatism and “12 steps to happiness” programs that really only make you a program junkie…always looking for the next Purpose-Driven Prayer of Jabez or Chicken Soup for the Five Love Languages of Beth Moore Bible Study.

Yet life passes us by because we’re so busy trying to figure out how to live right, how to be on the right side of things, that we miss actually living. What happened to figure things out as you go?? I think some folks are trying to figure life out before they even attempt it…maybe I’ve just been in seminary too long.

A while ago a friend of mine was recounting an experience she’d had in a restaurant when the waiter was flirting with her.

“Did you flirt back?” I asked.

Her response floored me, “Well, no,” she began. “He was obviously not a Christian!”

“How do you know he wasn’t a Christian?” I prodded.

“Because…” she said, shocked that I didn’t already understand what she was getting at, “He was flirting with me!!!”

My sweet, naïve Christian friend has never experienced the joys of flirting with a Christian boy, therefore she associates flirting with hedonism and refuses to respond to or participate in it.

Can this be true? I ask you. Do nice boys really not flirt at all?

I simply will not believe that flirting is outside the realm of modest and appropriate behavior and I truly wonder at people who, even when they are attracted to someone, resist the urge to flirt a little bit with them. Perhaps that makes me too immodest for some…oh well. I think that flirting can be an excellent self-esteem booster and, as long as there are no expectations attached, it can be really fun.

Maybe I assume too much by thinking Christian guys even know how to flirt. Maybe they're relying on their strong character and high-morals to attract the opposite sex. Or, maybe the waiter was a good Christian boy who just wanted my friend to know he thought she was cute…or maybe he just wanted a big tip…either way, she’s still grinning from ear to ear…