Day One, Day One, Start Over Again

Everyday I begin with trepidation, reborn and shivering, everything is magnified or muted. I am lost and want to be productive, helpful, though it is hard to just do those things for my own edification. I lack the discipline to do good for good’s sake. Often loose touch with God. But, when I stop he says, “Follow me,” and I am often reluctant and frightened. I have this idea I think from God to just walk around the city on the max go down town and pray so I’d like to do that, each day seems to fill up with my own little tasks or distractions and I haven’t done it yet. So my goal, on Monday to do that beginning I guess in the morning sometime and come home in the afternoon. It be nice to have a friend to do things with like this, or tennis, but for now I think ti would be good to go in alone. It reminds me of Hong Kong, newness, when all of life feels like a risk.
I miss the wide-open space of the Rez, how easy it is to feel free and full of the sky. It feels like here everything is so closed in and hilly that the expanse of heaven has shrunk. But it is just my view of heaven that has shrunk not heaven itself. I really miss being able to have Christine close and her companionship, just staying up and talking into the night, or playing games, or watching TV, mostly I do that alone now and it feels so much more empty. My hope for this place I don’t know how to locate, so many things I can’t locate inside of myself, and still I feel blessed perhaps guilty for the blessing of such a insulated life and at the same time I’m not sure I enjoy this lifestyle as much as the one I had before. The city is exciting and scary, the traffic makes me cuss and hit my car, but I am starting to adjust. I guess this is what they call culture shock. I miss brown people and not feeling like I have to look nice to fit in. I hate not being able to walk to the store and being able to not talk to anyone if I don’t have to. Its weird, I keep expecting to see the same people I used to, to wake up and talk to Christine, or get a random call from Corey, or Kris Sohappy asking me for a ride. It’s like I half expect to show up at youth group next month and unlock the stinky Presbyterian Church building and see James, Tino and Caleb waiting for me to let them in.
Sometimes I feel so useless here, like I’m just taking up space and not affecting any sort of common good. It’s hard being a busy bee when you can’t see the flowers and miss the smell of honey.
Still I am looking forward to being in a different kind of community, with some friends from college we are starting a little small group. Also, the green trees are helpful, I really need growing things to survive spiritually, even if they are seeds that haven’t sprouted yet. I think I need to find some grass and stare at it long enough to see a couple bugs. Usually that lightens my heart, seeing little ants or flying things helps me to relax. Those sort of pictures of God help the feelings of inadequacy and fear subside and remind me that the Creator loves the flying things and he loves me more (not sure why). I’ve been reading this Anne Lamott book and she says something like, when all else fails, ask for help and follow directions. Which is helpful for me, but even before that, my insides usually need to be reworked, cracked open enough to let out the muddy gunk, allow the wax out of my soul’s ears so it can hear the million different ways God is saying, “I love you.” I am scared and nervous about life right now in all this newness. Most of the time I freak out and then finally get to the point where I have to choose between my freakish existence and simply believing that, one way or another, my Father in Heaven will be faithful, as he has been over the last 24 years of my life, and particularly the last three. In Psalm 37 it says, “Dwell in the land and feed on His faithfulness.” That I guess is what I hope to do, as scary as it is sometimes.

Trail of Hope

The rubber is hitting the road again, on tires and on shoes. Here I am on another road trip, with 13 youth group kids in tow, three vehicles and 6 other staff. Still, we carry a lot more with us than our luggage and food. We also carry our insatiable hunger. I would be essentializing if I tried to sum up what it was we are all hungry for. But there was a speaker this morning at this "Trial of Hope" conference we've traveled to that said in his people's language the word "God" is translated as:"The Chief over and above everything." It seems too, our hunger is narrated in so many ways as we live out our life, and what we are hungering for feels even more elusive than our thoughts. Even the sages of the past like, Lao Tze, searched out what he could only call "the way of heaven". I think if he lived today and was an indigenous person he might of called what he was searching for, the "trail of hope." I'm not sur exactly what it is, the long days, and constant mental and spiritual work out, but this trip I have been especially ravenous in my hunger for the living God, for the Chief over and above everything.
I've been thinking about this song during my time here in Durango, CO at the Fort Lewis College Campus. It talks about this trail of freedom we have to find amidst the painful history of this country. Its the part that talks about looking at the past trail of broken promises, hearing the footsteps of tears along the way and then continuing to look for the trail that will lead us home...and I would add, our home in the Creator.
"There's a trail of tears we could follow, can you hear the footsteps of the Cherokee. Its a trail of broken promises, will you walk this trail with me...
Hey brothers, we must walk with the pride of Cheif Joseph, have the courage of Geronimo. For this trail its long, so you have to be strong, just to find your way back home..." -Bill Miller "Trail of Freedom"
In this time, if I stop and let myself be still for a few moments it doesn't take long to taste that hunger and to feel just how broken I feel inside as well. To see how often I am quick to anger and wrath even though the psalmist said, "Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil." Yet, again I find myself stuck with a choice, to respect the Lord's love for me and let go of my own hurt, or remain in the darkness of my own will. So what is it that I am hungry for besides a meal that isn't from Mcdonalds or Burger King? It seems trite to say, but I think what I desire is communion with God. Not to put him on this list and make sure I've "placed" Him first somehow. But, a deep connection so deep that I am known by Him. Yet,it is my own darkness that keeps me from walking in that direction.

Growing Things

Lately I've been thinking about growing things. Maybe this phenomenon has occurred because lately I've been pretty stuck and having a hard time with personal growth. But, there is something so precious and hopeful about something that hasn't arrived, but is on its way to being grown. Sometimes in the pruning process the outside looks a bit more like mutilation than growth. But, if you don't cut down the wild direction less and diseased branches the rest of the plant will suffer in the long run.
The other day i was sitting at home listening to the familiar sounds of my apartment and surfing the internet when I heard a not so familiar sound. It was a little chirp, but I thought I was imagining it until my roomate came in tenderly and held up a small box and said, "Surpise!" I looked eagerly into the shoe box and found a little black speckled chick. It was adorable, and this fragile being that needed our care. We rescued it from a teenager, its a long story, but I'm sure you can understand the need. For the next couple days we fussed over our chick and tried our best to care for it. The first night I had a dream that it died because it was too cold, so I woke up and rushed into the bathroom to look into its new box and saw it sleeping soundly its little furry body moving slightly with its chick breaths. All the sudden there was this great visual, a little growing thing. Its been hard for me to find hope lately and Percy the chick really helped me to remember that as long as we're growing there is hope. Sometimes I just want to find the fix for my failings, or for other peoples failings and forget that I have often left out the part where Grace enters into the picture. The grace of growing things is that they are working towards a better picture of who they were meant to be, but it is ok that they are not there yet. In my perfectionist mind I often get stuck on the ways I am not right and then I'm paralyzed. I feel hard and distant from God who I assume is disappointed in me. When in reality he is waiting in love, and correcting me perhaps, in love, wanting to embrace me even though I'm covered in sin, if i am willing to let Him in and trust Him. This lesson is a difficult, and good. But, i must remember that I too am a growing thing. That when I look at a little growing flower, a little growing chick, I see something precious and beautiful and I don't dislike them because they are not blooming or full grown chickens. In the same way when God looks at me he sees a growing thing and he loves me as that. What a comforting thought, and this thought saves me daily.

Yet this I call to Mind

Life is full of strange fragile moments. One moment I am greedily playing tennis and then the next a ball slips under my foot and I am bearing down under the pain in my ankle unable to move. This recent event is significant for me because it marks an intense difficulty, a split moment that takes a long time to work out its consequences. Somehow God always uses stuff like this to really get to the point. Like a big pruning shear in the sky, sometimes he swoops down and cuts us down with precision and it hurts but it is definitely bearable and better than eternal separation from God. Through it all I do feel a bit mangled and dragged around like Jeremiah in Lamentations, although he has more right to feel that way than I. I don't mind as much as I used to that I now have to rely on friends to get around, eat, pick up after myself etc. But it is a reminder that one of my fundamental problems is that I am proud of being independent and often think I am a person unto myself, unconnected to God or anyone else. Though I am learning that I'd rather be a sinner with a forgiving, loving heart than a righteous person harboring bitterness and unforgiveness. Still, I am more like Simon the Pharisee who criticized Jesus for letting a "sinful" woman touch him than the woman who poured out her alabaster jar upon our Lords head and wept at his feet in adoration. I long to be the one close to Jesus though, the one who was forgiven much and who loves much. In this process of being hurt and uncovering more of my rotten heart, I have learned that I have been forgiven much even the hidden sins in my heart that no one sees. So, I am encouraged this morning by the words of Lamentations that Jeremiah writes. This man of sorrow who has seen every kind of suffering can call to mind why he has hope.

He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.

I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.

So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

Ashes to ashes

Ashes to Ashes
On a back road open hills
dodging birds, dogs, drunks and road kill
I am growing up too fast and I hate it
she said
round brown face
black eyes obsidian
eligance hidden under trailor parks
dust to dust
out here swirling in the sage brush
tumblweeds stuck from one
place to another
lost so lost you want to find them
or avoid them
From dust we came
sixteen girl living on a prayer
on a yell
she puts a dark hood on
and lifts her hand in the air
i could tell you things you don't
want to hear
and dust we'll return

/e passionate

E passionate
Wait the line
Bump bump ching
Clack grrrrrung gruuung pa cha

The brick fell all the way down
Let me go I’m grown
Lift up and inside are bright
Explosiv-sions
Revisions

You are worth it he said
Am i
Is he
Yes
Wait the line
E passionate
It’s not time
At the greyhound at 8:45pm,
I wait for you.

I like it when he comes home.
Then I can hug him and the puffy
Vest is bright and says shhhhhhhhhh

Tired Rubber soles

I found out recently that I have vegan shoes, yes, unwittingly I am vegan in my shoe tastes. Converse shoes are made of rubber soles and canvas so no animals are used nor animal products, in the making of my little shoes. But, do I ever feel like I am wearing these little shoes out. I've been burning the pavement with them over the last couple months and getting tons of miles out of them. I've been to San Diego and back by car from Toppenish, Washington. Which is a feat in itself. Stopping every where in between, San Fransisco, Eugene, Portland. Although, my mind/heart has been even more places than my feet it seems like. Yeah, I started running for the first time ever in my life on my own and so I finally feel that my life is reflecting something more of who I am. I certainly am a runner, not that I really enjoyed running for running accept for when I was little. In elementary school, I ran to school almost every day, there and back just because I could and it was like four blocks. Man I wore out my shoes fast, i was hard on them. Now I'm hard on my tires making them work overtime. In some ways it seems that Gods been doing his best to slow me down a little bit since I can remember. This time I hope I'm running with Him and towards something just as good as my life now. there is this song lyric I think by U2 that says "we're running to stand still." And I think that is part of the design in me, to run to stand still and not to just run to burn out. I'd like to think someday I'll find the way to run hard and rest hard. Right now my soul feels as warn and dirty as the soles of my vegan shoes.
Life takes us on strange pathways, the one before me is too big for me and I know I don't have what it takes today to handle the challenges of tomorrow. It is my hope that somehow on the way I'll find it, pull it out from deep down, give out and still find a treasure at the bottom of my gas tank, an oil field in the bottom of my empty belly. Often i find that is where God is the most tangible and present. Not because he's only there when I'm weak, but because it is there I am humble enough to notice Him. At times I am overwhelmed by the ever changing landscape of this life, with family disbursed, with dear friends out of arms reach, as I struggle to keep time with this chaotic world, and make sense of the decisions we must face in order to survive as whole people. Whole people, not the fractured pieces of selves we strip into to feel loved and accepted. Uncertainty is scary, but I wonder are we ever more certain than we are when we tuck ourselves in bed holding our tired feet and say to to the Holy skies, the mountains, our loved ones, the coyotes, and God almighty, "I'm thankful, whatever it is, I am thankful." With a sigh we are still thankful and that is how we know we're not beyond hope and its still worth the run.