Blessed Are Those…

I LOVE summers. I think I may have written about this before, but I look forward to summers all year long. I love the smell of fresh cut grass in the air. I love lazy summer days that include going to the pool and having a bbq. I love walking outside without shoes on and the feeling of grass between your toes. I love that weird hissing sound of crickets at night. I love watching the sunlight sparkle in the water. I love the rustling of leaves of big Oak Trees. I love the glimmer of lightning bugs at dusk…ok I think you get the point.

Well, about two months ago I was looking forward to the best summer ever. I had so much to look forward too. First of all, Dan and I were going on assignment together to Wildhorse Canyon. Since I have been on YL staff I hadn’t had an assignment (spending a month at a YL camp in some kind of leadership role). Now that Dan was on staff we were both going to be heading out to Wildhorse Canyon in Antelope, OR to be head leaders together. It wasn’t my idea to go half way across the country and work with all people I had never met before, but Dan wanted an adventure and I knew that if we were together it would be totally fine. I was so excited about Dan and I having this shared experience…meeting new people, being in a new place, and serving God together each day.

Then when we got back from Wildhorse we would go spend up week up at the condo on Lake Erie to rest and relax. Then it was off to Frontier Ranch (best YL camp ever) with all the kids from WWSHS that we do YL with. This was something I had been praying for and getting excited about ALL YEAR!!! I just couldn’t wait.

To make things even more exciting, I found out a week and a half before we were leaving for Wildhorse that I was pregnant with my first. There were definitely some days where it just seemed like life was too good. Serisously.

I couldn’t believe how much I just loved life.

Four days before we were supposed to leave for Wildhorse Canyon we had Dan’s dad over for dinner. He was the first one we told about the baby. It was kind of a good bye dinner for the summer, seeing as how we were going to be gone so much. It was nice, but he didn’t seem to be feeling well and left early. Dan decided to go check on him later that night. He went over to find his dad laying unconscious and feverish. He was rushed to the hospital and we found out he had bacterial meningitis. Those first few days were so scary, so long, so confusing. Dan pretty much moved into the hospital. We thought in those first few days we would be saying our goodbyes to Stan forever, but in the ensuing weeks he fought through the bacterial meningitis. In those first few days, Dan had to make the decision not to go with me out to Wildhorse.

I remember sitting there in the snack shop on that first night with all the other assignment team (of which I knew no one) making our introductions and it was all I could do not to burst into tears in front of everyone. I felt lost…lonely…afraid…and angry. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be at this camp by myself in the middle of nowhere while Dan sat by his dad’s bed in Central DuPage hospital all month. I wasn’t supposed to be out there alone. WHY GOD????

After about a week out there things started to seem more normal. I started to get to know the team and they started to get to know me. My third week out there I started to have some problems with my pregnancy. I had to go to the hospital to have some tests. I was so afraid…but even more afraid to show it. I will never forget sitting in the emergency room in the most random po-dunk hospital when the hippie, burn out doctor came in and flippantly said to me…”well it looks like you are going to have a miscarriage.” I can’t imagine what the look on my face was. I was in shock. He quickly realized my shock and hurt and tried to immediately become more compassionate, but there wasn’t much he could say. It wasn’t for sure, but from what he could see it looked like I would have a miscarriage. WHY GOD????

I went back to camp and climbed up on my bunk and sobbed until I didn’t have any tears left.

I prayed that whole next week that if it was going to happen that it would wait until I got home. That is one prayer that God did answer this summer. I did not miscarry until a week after I got home.

I know that it is a common thing, but it is a deep hurt. Dan loved and comforted me with all he had…but he didn’t have much. He was so tired. Tired of living at the hospital. Tired of worrying about his dad. Tired of watching him suffer. Tired of praying prayers for healing. Tired of talking to doctors and nurses. Tired of the intensive care unit. Tired of not knowing what each day would hold…life or death. As his dad had successfully battled the bacteria meningitis he continued to be attacked by new bacteria, and every time he seemed to take one step forward, he would take two steps back. WHY GOD???

One thing that was helping to lift our spirits was our upcoming camp trip to Frontier Ranch. It was amazing all the kids that had signed up and were going. Some of these kids I had been praying for to sign up for over eight months. A group of freshman girls I was just really starting to connect with were signed up, as well as a group of junior girls that I absolutely love. I had never been so excited or ready for a camp trip.

The morning of our tirp we had all the leaders over to our house to pray. It was a beautiful time anointed by the Holy Spirit. I had never felt this excited for a camp trip. We were supposed to leave at 11:00 am. I went over to the YL office to finish up a few last details and at 10:30 am Dan called and told me that his dad had just died. WHY GOD???

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I started shaking. In those kind of moments it is like everything just becomes a haze. I don’t think that your mind, body, or soul can really function in those moments. I became sort of like a robot for the next few hours. I went to where the busses were leaving for our camp trip and told everyone the sad news and stood in the parking lot and waved goodbye to the bus full of kids and leaders that I loved.

I was supposed to be on that trip. I was supposed to be on that bus. I was supposed to be leading that cabin. I was supposed to be there when all the kids got off the bus and experienced Frontier Ranch. I was supposed to be at that volleyball tournament. I was supposed to be at those leader meetings. I was supposed to be staying up late at night laughing and talking and crying with all those girls. WHY GOD???

This wasn’t the way my summer was supposed to be.

Or was it?

When I was at Wildhorse canyon dealing with so much fear and worry and sadness and loneliness, I found myself drawn into a certain verse in particular. It is found in Matthew 5:4. The verse is simple and short but it became the theme of my summer. It says, “blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Hmmmm…

The first 20 or more times I heard or read this verse I didn’t get it. It just didn’t really make sense to me. How could it be a blessing to mourn? I thought that blessings were all happy things like, getting a new house, having things go really well in relationships, when you found that parking space right when you needed one, when your favorite pair of pants were on sale, when you won a race or succeeded in something you were working hard for. HOW COULD MOURNING BE A BLESSING??? How could all of this mess be a blessing.

Well, I am here to say that in the midst of all that pain, all the questions, all the fear, all the doubt, all the lonliness, all the seemingly unanswered prayers, the last two months have been by far the most blessed months of my life. It is true what that verse says, that those who mourn are blessed because they are comforted. Not just comforted, but comforted by the almighty, the maker of heaven and of earth.

The last two months have been blessed for me because in the midst of the pain and lonliness and fear and a million other struggles I was able to stand on the firm ground of God’s love for me and His comfort. I was able to feel the embrace of the almighty. I was able to get up each day and go to the giver of all good things and receive the strength I needed to get through the day. I was forced to trust in something bigger than me and bigger than this world. I was forced out of the world of things we can see and touch and into the world of the unseen. I was forced to let go of my illusions of control and security that comes from this world and trust the one who is control of all things and rest in HIS security.

There are no words that can describe the beauty of the comfort of Christ. There are no words to describe the power of the God of the universe. And, there are no words to explain how blessed I have been.

Seeing and Being

Tonight I am overwhelmed by beauty. It is all around me. It is everywhere. Beauty in my baked beans and beauty in the stubby and bitten fingernails of my husband. Beauty in the candle lit on my table and beauty in the soft fur of my kitty cat. Beauty in the rustling of leaves outside my window and beauty in the still silence of the night air. Beauty in the colors of my tablecloth and beauty in my old tennis shoes sitting by the door. Wherever I look, there it is. This beauty is swallowing me whole. I am becoming intoxicated by it.

This is a moment of worship.

So much of my life I have been TRYING to be with God. Trying to figure it out and trying to do it better. Trying to hold on and trying to let go. Trying not to slip. Trying not to fall. Trying to keep up. Trying not to get left behind. Trying to do it right. Trying not to do what is wrong. But…maybe it’s not about trying. Maybe it’s not about figuring it out. Maybe it’s just the opposite. Maybe it’s the trying that has become my focus. Maybe trying has actually fooled me into missing what’s right there in front of me. Maybe my trying has actually suffocated me from the air I need to breathe.

For the past couple of days…maybe weeks, I haven’t been trying so hard. And…it has been both weird and wonderful. I think I am starting to understand what it means to pray without ceasing. I think it has something to do with seeing and being.

I feel like I have these eyes that are just opening for the first time. Opening to all the wonder around us. Opening to the stories. Tonight I was thinking about how there is a story in each moment. A story in every step. A story in every sigh. A story in every breath. I sometimes think I would like to write a novel. I often think this after seeing even just a little bit into someone’s story…even my own. But, as I was thinking tonight I was struck that there is so much more story going on all the time than could ever be captured in a book.

I don’t want to spend my life living in the illusions of this world. The illusion of success. The illusion of possessions. The illusion of fitting in. The illusion of control. The illusion of trying. I want my eyes to see clearly. To see clearly the truths of Christ and His love and glory. I don’t want to live under the burden of my own invitation of all that this world has to offer into my life.

I really love the spring. There is a magical beauty to spring. When the whole earth is coming back to life, I can’t help but feel it in my veins. And I am reminded once again that I have also been brought back to life. I am continually being brought back to life.

What an unbelieving world finds unbelievable

In case you didn’t already know, the title for this entry is not my own, but a line from a DC Talk song. I first heard this song in high school when a boyfriend of mine put it on a mix for me. I thought it was a clever little play on words when I first heard it, but didn’t really give it much thought at the time. Well, as I sit here tonight, it seems a very fitting title for what I intend on writing about.

I’ll just get right to it. I am really struggling with church. Especially after this past Sunday, but in general, I am struggling with church.

Growing up my family always attended a United Methodist Church; one in Bay Village, one in Lakewood, and one in Symmes Township. The one in Lakewood was my favorite. It was this really big beautiful old church. The inside was all dark wood with really tall vaulted ceilings and HUGE stainglass windows. Before I really knew Christ, I can remember feeling Him in that church. I remember one Sunday, it might have been Easter I can’t really remember, but on that one Sunday I remember singing a hymn and looking at the beautiful windows and feeling so overwhelmed by beauty, by truth, by love, that I cried. I remember just standing there, not really understanding what I was feeling, with tears running down my face. I really like that memory. It was so real. So authentic. So mysterious. So tender.

I remember going to vacation bible school at the church in Bay Village. I remember teepees where we made crafts. I remember getting a jelly doughnut every Sunday in fellowship hall after the service. I loved those doughnuts. I remember getting a bible with my name in the front cover. I really treasured it and felt it was something very special. I used it up until about 3 years ago.

We didn’t get very involved at the church in Symmes Township, so I don’t have much to say about it.

When I was in high school I started to get to know Jesus. I was introduced to him by Young Life. I desired to have a church to go to. My junior year I found out about this church in Cincinnati called The Vineyard. A couple older kids from YL went there and said it was really cool. So, one Sunday my friend Katie and I got directions and drove there. We didn’t really know what to expect. But, we loved it. It was something totally new for me. I saw all these people who looked like they really wanted to be there. There were a couple guys standing out front smoking before we went in. The songs we sang made me feel alive. The guy who got up to talk to us seemed a lot like someone I might just run into on the street. He had love in his eyes. I kept going back.

After a couple of months my whole family started going there. At first they were a little leery, but it didn’t take long for it to grow on them. I really love that church. I have been embraced there. I went to college only 45 min from home, so most Sundays I would drive to The Vineyard. A few of my parents friends started going there too. My mom still goes with her boyfriend Pedro, and when I am home I try to always make it a point to be there.

So, what’s the struggle?

Well, the struggle is that in the past four years (since I have lived in Chicago) I have attended well over 10 different churches and I feel lost. Many of those we attended regularly for 6 months or more. So, not many people read my blog, but I’m sure that this would be the point where people might want to point the finger at me and say, “you’re not supposed to go shopping for churches, there is no perfect church, the problem is with you not the church, you need to stay committed and get connected, you’re a fickle bastard.” The funny thing is that I actually say all these things to myself.

About six months ago Dan and I decided that the church we were attending (which we really liked accept for the fact we had to watch the message on video cast) was too far from the community in which we are ministering and we were going to find a closer church and just commit to it, NO MATTER WHAT! Both of us were growing weary and frustrated. So, we picked one of the 1,000,000,000 churches in Wheaton and went cold turkey (no more church shopping), which brings us to the present.

Last Sunday. It started off as a really bad day. We’re watching some dogs that are really sweet but they got into the garbage and dragged it all over the house. UGH!! Well, Dan and I did finally make it to church without killing each other or the dogs, but barely. We enter and find our seats, which may I note is one of my favorite parts about going there. We know exactly where we like to sit and no one is EVER in our seats. Anyway, we enter, take our seats and start to worship. The worship team leads us in one of the 20 songs we sing at church, any of which can be heard on K-LOVE 20 times a day. To be honest, it’s not the song choice that I have a hard time with, it’s the way it is lead by the worship team. Same huge smiles EVERY WEEK. Same hands raised EVERY WEEK. Same sway and intense look of devotion EVERY WEEK. This is what an unbelieving world finds unbelievable. Forget an unbelieving world, this is what a believing world finds unbelievable.

I decided not to sing and instead to watch the little girl in the seats in front of us. She was turned around staring at us. She was probably about 3 or 4. She had beautiful chestnut hair that was silky and straight. Her eyes were huge, and enchanting. She looked around with such wonder in her eyes. Her smile was curious and cunning. She kept ducking behind the seat so I couldn’t see her, and then she would pop up and giggle a little bit as I caught her eyes. Now here was a reason for worship. The beauty of this child made me love God more, made me want to know God more.

So, I’m struggling, but I’m getting through. Then like a ton of bricks falling on my soul I see this high school kid walk by with a sweatshirt on from the Youth Group retreat a couple weeks earlier. On the back I see in huge letters, “…go talk to firewood.” You might not understand, which I hope you don’t. A couple weeks earlier I was at a Youth Pastor Fellowship meeting. The youth pastor from the church I attend was there. He’s a pretty nice guy but always seems like he’s had just a bit too much coffee…OK actually more than just a bit too much. Anyway, he started sharing about his youth group (too much info I’ll have to put it in another entry). But, one thing he shared was that he just got back from a youth retreat where he taught the kids about how they must get better at talking to their friends who are firewood because they are going to burn in hell. I’m not kidding. Not kidding at all. I wish I was. I really really wish I was. I must say that at the meeting I was taken aback by his flippancy and lack of compassion, but I was TRYING to give him the benefit of the doubt.

UNTIL…I see this kid walk by at church with this sweatshirt on. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Who writes that on a sweatshirt. Who writes that on a sweatshirt and THEN gives it to high school kids to wear around??? “GO TALK TO FIREWOOD,” What an unbelieving world finds unbelievable.

When I saw the kid walk by at church, my jaw dropped, literally. I couldn’t get it to go back in place. I just stood there with my jaw on the floor. Then, I cried. I couldn’t help it. I’m a pretty emotional person. I didn’t feel it coming, but the floodgate opened and the tears came and they couldn’t stop. I was crying for a lot of different reasons. I was mostly crying at this misrepresentation of God’s heart toward unbelievers. Firewood? That was a really hard moment for me, but it was also a moment of grace. Many times in these kind of moments I wonder, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just go with the flow more? Why don’t I fit in better with this Christian culture? But…in that moment I heard the whisper of the holy spirit. That whisper said to me, I love you. I love you just the way you are. I love your sensitive heart. I love that that makes you cry. It was a beautiful moment.

I come to the end of this entry without any real answers. Without knowing where I should or will continue to go to church. I am honestly confused. And, I am saddened at how many parts of the Christian culture and unbelieving world finds simply unbelievable.

I just needed a place to process and get this all off my chest. Thanks for listening.

The Mystery

About a week ago I turned 26. I really like birthdays. I especially like my birthday. Each year I try to prepare myself that it will be just like any other day. Each year I try not to expect a surprise party, or being showered with presents. Yet, each year I can’t help but wake up really really excited and throughout the day wonder what treats might be just around the corner. Luckily I have some really nice friends, a truly romantic and thoughtful husband, and a mommy who remembers to send wrapped presents so that they arrive right on your birthday.

I once read something by Henri Nouwen (definitely one of my favorite authors) about how important he believes that birthdays are. We live in a culture that celebrates only the worthy. Our culture celebrates success. Our culture celebrates accomplishment. Our culture celebrates achievements. The one possible exception to this is the celebration of birthdays. When we celebrate someone’s birthday, we are celebrating the fact that he or she is alive. We are celebrating them for just being them, not for having achieved anything. We are celebrating them in the way that God celebrates each of us every day. I think that is part of the reason why I like birthdays so much. It just feels so good to be loved in that way.

Something that I can’t seem to figure out no matter how hard I try is why God loves us. If I had to sum up the entire bible, I think I would say it is the story of God’s desperate love for his children. But, I still don’t really know why God loves us. You know, I actually don’t think most people, including me, really live out of a belief that God loves us. I think it’s just too big. Too unimaginable. Too confusing. Too weird. Too mysterious.

Mystery. I think that has been my favorite word lately; especially when thinking about, or praying to God. Maybe lately I have been most in love with the mystery of God. When I think upon God’s mystery, I compelled to fall upon my face. I am so unworthy of His mystery. Yet, he blesses me with little pieces of it each day. To me the mystery of God is in all those things that allow us to taste his infinite beauty, but yet still be left wondering and yearning; seeking and searching.

His mystery is in the sound of a song that reminds you that you are alive; you are alive in a way that there are no words for. His mystery is in the first songs of birds after a long winter of cold silence. His mystery is in the soft fur of my little cat Billy. His mystery is in the way you can look at the face of your spouse after having looked at it thousands of times before and see something new, something more beautiful than you have ever seen before. His mystery is in the scent of rain on a spring day. His mystery is in how some of my happiest times are sitting in my living room talking and laughing with a group of high school girls. His mystery is the tiniest most beautiful flower that was made just for you to see.

There is mystery in every day and each moment. It is there, but sometimes I ask myself where are we?

Do we believe?

The other night I got into a really interesting conversation with my sister. Before I even get into that, I just want to say how much I love my sister. It’s hard to even imagine life or who I would be without her. She has just always been there. Even though we are really different in a lot of ways, I feel close to her in a way that I don’t with anyone else in the world. I love that Lauren is who she is. I love that she is learning more and more to be more and more who she is. I love that I feel special when I am around her. She’s kind of like a warm blanket on a cold and rainy day.

Anyway, back to our conversation. We were talking about the lack of authenticity in the Christian community of America. It’s something that I have been giving a lot of thought to recently. Mostly as it deals with me specifically. A few blogs back I wrote about the song Yahweh. Since then I have been thinking a lot about my desire for significance and approval from those around me. How much of my life seems to be lived in hopes of being “good enough.” It gets tiring, and there is always a sense that in the end I just never will be. I will never be the best at anything. I will never be as good as I want to be. I will never live even a day without sin. I will never have completely pure thoughts. I will never free from my fallen nature. I will never be the me that I want to be!

As I go down this road of trying to win approval, I am brought back to thoughts of God’s love and approval of me. I am brought to the place where I realize that God is the only one who knows me fully, and the only one who loves me fully. That’s a lot to think about. Do I even believe that? Seriously, do I really believe that? Do you believe that? Does ANYONE believe that?

If I did believe it, why would I live my life trying so hard all the time to prove to everyone that I was good enough and that I deserve their love? Why would I be so consumed by my image? Why would I want everyone to like me? Why would I be afraid to make waves for something I believe in? Why would I be afraid to be open with the areas of my life that are dark and scary? Why wouldn’t I engage in more intimate relationships? Why would I hide from God?

Another question that I have is; does the Christian Church in America believe that? Does the Christian community in America believe that God knows us fully, and God loves us fully? My answer has to be no. Of course almost every church would say that they believe this. But, the reason why my answer is no is because of all the acting that goes on inside of the Church. More that almost anywhere in my life, I’ve felt the pressure to act in church. I think this must be part of what is so confusing to people who don’t know God. They might hear that God knows them and loves them unconditionally, and yet the very people who proclaim this live as if they must hide every part of their lives that isn’t worthy of love.

OK, so here’s my point. As followers of Jesus, Christians should be the group of people in the world that feel and act most freely and authentically because we have assurance of love to the core, and there is nothing we can do to move outside of that love. Doesn’t that make sense? It seems like people that didn’t believe or know that there is a God that loves them fully and unconditionally, would be the ones who would be afraid to be authentic because they would need to PROVE that they are worthy of love. In my experience on this earth, this isn’t the way it works.

WHY????

I ask myself that a lot, especially recently. Why don’t Christians feel free to be real? To fail? To mess up? To fall flat on our faces? To admit that we don’t have it all figured out? To admit that our lives can be really messed up? To admit that we have hurt people and continue to hurt people? To admit that we struggle with all kinds of addictions all the time? To admit that we feel empty? To admit that we aren’t faithful? WHY?

I want to be free. I want to live among a community of free people. Real people.

Something that is kind of funny about me is that I love the show Roseanne. Dan always asks me, why are you watching that show? Why do you like that show? For a long time I couldn’t even really say why. I couldn’t explain it. I mean I think it’s kind of funny but it’s definitely not the funniest show. Recently I think I have figured it out. I love the show Roseanne, because it is refreshingly real and authentic. It is a bunch of people that aren’t afraid to show each other hot messed up they really are. That’s why I like it.

I don’t want to live the rest of my life acting. I am thankful that I have people like Lauren in my life who don’t want me to act and don’t expect me to and love me regardless. I pray for myself and for the Christian community in this country that we might really understand what it means to be known fully and loved fully.

Monotony

Sometimes life is really funny. Do you ever look around you and find it hard not to laugh. It isn’t that there is anything inherently funny in the scene around you, but just the ironies of life happening all the time around us. That happened just a minute ago for me as I was sitting here at my dining room table reading a book for the class I am auditing at Wheaton College this semester. Anyway, I am sitting here and I look over to my left and see three little sets golden retriever eyes staring at me. All three of them are huddled together just standing there watching me read. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Mostly I was laughing at myself. Laughing at the reality that at the moment my house is inhabited by three golden retrievers, a really fluffy cat, and myself. Laughing at how my friends think I am weird for volunteering to watch two full size golden retrievers. Laughing at the strange comfort I feel at having these dogs snuggled around my feet.

I love that about life. I love how weirdly entertaining it can be. I think that is why I really love the new show “Arrested Development.” Various people have been telling me for months that I HAVE TO WATCH IT!!! Sometimes that kind of thing can actually keep me from ever giving it a try, but for some strange reason my Tivo just started recording it. Seriously, I’ve asked everyone who regularly comes into my house if they set up Tivo to record Arrested Development and everyone swears it wasn’t them, so I guess I was meant to watch it. I’m glad that the Tivo gods decided I needed to see it, because I love it.

Maybe you’ve been reading this blog saying to yourself, what the heck are you talking about, and what the heck is funny about three golden retrievers. I understand if that’s what you’re thinking, because I often feel like I am most free and alive in the weirdest moments of life that other people are annoyed by or think is just stupid. I think that I got this from my dad. Thanks a lot daddy, for making me certifiably abstractly disoriented emotionally. I wonder if there is an official diagnosis for this problem. (I remember in college seeing the ridiculously, hideously, thick, small printed book of diagnoses for psychological disorders. There must be something in there for me.)

So I grew up in a world of imaginative scenarios, and make-believe words. Here’s one of my favorites: When we would be on a road trip and the weather would start looking ominous, my dad would predict our impending arrival into a pig’s belly. Yes a Pig’s Belly. As the rain and wind would start to come we would all yell, “Are we in the pig’s belly yet?” And he would reply, “not yet.” It wasn’t until we would almost be forced off the road by the weather when my dad would finally and emphatically insist that we had officially entered the pig’s belly. He would make no small show about it. Hands waving in the air. Yelps of anxiety ridden excitement. Maybe this was a way for me dad to escape reality, but it became easy and comfortable for me.

So, I’ve found that when watching shows like Arrested Development that I feel a sense of commonality with the world around me. That even if there is a diagnosis for me in that book for psychological disorders, there are other people who could be similarly diagnosed. My husband for example would be one. That is actually something that I thank God for regularly. I’m so thankful that I am married to a man who not only really genuinely appreciates my strangeness, but has a lot of strangeness to add to the world himself. One thing that I always remember my dad saying to me, is that one of his worst fears in the world was being bored. That could explain a lot. But as I take this into my own life I realize a couple things. One, there are worse things in life than being bored. Two, I hate being bored, and I am continually thankful for people in this world who just by living are putting boredom on the endangered species list.

As I have gotten older, (I recognize that 25 is not old at all), I think I have gotten better at letting who I really am live more and more. I like that. And, I like that in other people. I think the boredom and monotony (a better word I think for what I am getting at) comes in as we are so often trying to assimilate, be accepted, make no waves, fly under the radar, keep up with the Joneses.

Just for clarification, I’m not really trying to make any philosophical point with this blog. If I was, I think I’d be in trouble. I’m just putting words to some things that float through my head from time to time.

As I post blogs I really go back and forth between hoping there might actually be some people out there who read this, and hoping that I’m the only one who reads this. Maybe most people feel that way about their blogs. I haven’t yet mastered the art of the blog.

p.s. I just decided to include a pic of RJ with this blog because; 1. I like putting pictures with blogs, 2. I think RJ is one of the lease monotonous people I have ever known. 3. The look on RJ's face is one of complete boredom (that's what spending time with the fam over christmas can do to a 19 year old boy.)

Stuff

It’s kind of weird to start blogging again, because it’s been awhile and I feel a little out of practice. I think that I need to jump right back in and go for it. I got a new lap top for Christmas. I’m pretty excited about it, but as I explained in one of my previous blogs I’m also a little scared of technology. Anyway, I’m hoping that my blogs will start being more consistent.

My new computer isn’t the only change in my life right now. Dan just started on YL staff this week. It’s pretty exciting for him, and for me. For years he has been following this path that has been so uncomfortable for him. Every day he would wake up and sleepily walk to the closet and put on some stupid collared shirt, tie, and dress pants. Then he would rush out of the house to make it on time to the train where he would get the first of MANY cups of coffee for the day (you gotta get by some how). Then he would make his decent into the hum drum business world of downtown Chicago. He would get off the train and step into the sea of suits and high heels. Everyone climbing the invisible ladder to somewhere that would surely be better than where they were. He would step onto the escalator that would lead to the front door of Performance Trust Captial Partners. He would then walk over to his desk and sit down. He would sit there and look at his computer and his phone, he would stare at his two foot by four foot desk and ask himself once again, just like every other day, WHY AM I HERE??? Why am I spending my life doing a job that I don’t believe in and I don’t even like? Why do I get up every morning to come to a place where I can’t be myself, to a place that sucks the self right out of me?

I wonder if a lot of people sit down at their desks each day and ask that same question. I think so.

Because of Dan’s change in career we’ve had to make some minor adjustments in our life style. We now have a budget that we are following, or I should say trying to follow. I’m not very good at budgets, but I think that it will be a really good thing for us. Anyway, it’s got me to thinking. Thinking about stuff. What is stuff? Why do I have so much of it? Why do I want more? Why am I always comparing my stuff to someone else’s stuff?

I started reading my first Tom Robbins book the other day. It’s called Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates. Lauren told me I HAD to read it, and I usually love her recommendations, so I though I would go for it. I’m only about 50 pages in, but I’m already hooked. First of all, Tom Robbins has to be completely out of his mind, which I LOVE. Secondly, he offers some great thoughts on life amidst the wildly funny scenes he creates. One of these thoughts seemed to jump off the page when I was reading it the other day. Here it is:

“Things. Cosas. Things attach themselves like leeches to the human soul, then they bleed out the wetness and the music and the primordial joy of being unencumbered upon the land. Comprende? People feel tremendous pressure to settle down in some sort of permanent space and fill it up with stuff, but deep inside they resent those structures, and they’re scared to death of that stuff because they know it controls them and restricts their movements.”

When I read this I must admit that it really rang true for me. But, where do I go from here? Do I sell my house and all my belongings, and give away my pets, and … and then …. And then what?? That’s the part where I get confused. Maybe I’m on the baby steps program. I decided that one of my new years resolutions** was to give away more, throw away more, buy less, take less, and bring less into my house. The day after I made this resolution I was reading in 2 corinthians and I found the perfect theme verse for this resolution. It’s 2 Cor. 8:15 “whoever gathered much had nothing left over, and whoever gathered little had no lack.” I like this verse. It’s really simple but it communicates so much. I would like to live by this principle. The problem is the same day I went to the mall with my friend. I was DETERMINED not to buy anything. I was doing really well. Until…(it always seems like there is an until) we went into this one store and I saw this purse that I completely fell in love with. Kind of like how I felt when I met Dan. Just kidding. Anyway, I really needed (I don’t really think I know what need means) this new purse, so I bought it. Should I have? I could live without it. Thus my confusion ensues.

I pray for God’s grace in my life. I ask his forgiveness for my ignorance. And I pray that some day I might better understand what it means to “give away all your possessions”, what it means to live a life free of the stuff that “controls and restricts my movements.”


** I think that new years resolutions are kind of wierd, funny, and stupid. But I also think they are kind of cool because it feels like you get a fresh start to make changes in your life.