The Little Pearl that led me to the Sea...

Gearhart, Oregon

Young Life Breakaway Lodge

7/14/17 - 7/20/17
Part 1

It’s a rare, clear morning by the sea.  No one is stirring at the Lodge yet. I was going to get up before sunrise and walk down to the ocean and pick up sand dollars, but sleep held on a little too long for that to be a reality. Instead, I sit here on the deck of Breakaway Lodge as the sun peaks over the Oregon trees and it’s exactly what I needed on this last day of camp.

God has done so much.  And by so much, I mean SO MUCH.  I’m going to try to do some justice and share a fun part of the back story of how I got here for you...

Let me take you back to the beginning of this particular leg of the adventure.  It really started with hearing the Holy Spirit clearly say “Don’t forget about the music” at the beginning of November, but that’s a very cool God story for a different post...Suffice it to say I know more than ever that music is to be as much of a focus as the cracker business or anything else in this next season, so with that, let’s fast forward to this past April 1, 2017.

It was a normal Friday and I was at my shop, Hummingbird Cracker Co. in East Nashville doing a little sweeping to get the shop in tip-top shape for opening that morning.  I was not really paying much attention to the dust I was sweeping until I noticed something that was definitely not dust under one of the tables.  I bent down and upon closer inspection, I saw it was a little pearl.  It was the kind that looked as though it had come off of an earring.

Not being a pearl wearer myself, I figured “No one is coming back for this”, so I put little miss pearl back down on the floor and promptly swept her round little self right out the front door and into the parking lot with all of the cracker dust.  Here’s where it gets weird.  The exact moment I swept her out, I heard the Holy Spirit say, “Go get that.  You’re going to need it”.  Thanks, Holy Spirit.  You could have mentioned I needed it while I was holding it, but, okay.  It was definitely a strange enough scenario for me to stand there frozen for a moment considering what I’d just heard and wondering if this was really God.

Now, let me take a little detour for a moment as I realize that some of you may take issue with me saying I heard God say this or that.  Or you might believe that I do hear God’s voice, but you wonder “Exactly HOW do you hear God?”  The truth is, I don’t know! It’s a bit of a cool, mysterious thing, but at the same time, it’s not mysterious at all.  So here’s my recommendation for hearing God’s voice: Just start asking!  Start talking to God and asking to hear God talk back to your heart, which is the deepest part of who you are, much deeper than the external things that we often talk to other people about.  This is how you start any relationship! Ask questions! Even if you don't believe in God, or Jesus or Holy Spirit, take a risk and start a conversation. You might be surprised. God will talk to you about the heart matters, but it will be in a way that you understand, even if it doesn’t all make sense in the moment. The best way I can describe what God’s voice sounds like to me is to say that it is one step below audible.  It’s audible, but only on the inside, but it’s still so clear that it’s undeniable.  It’s all a journey because walking with God is a relationship that ebbs and flows...So, yes,  there’s that massive topic in a little bitty nutshell.  Anyhoo, now back to Parking Lot Pearl.

I paused, pondered and then proceeded to pace the parking lot looking for Pearl, the lost pearl.  Also, at this point, I began feeling like a ridiculous modern day mash-up parable of some form.  The Pearl of Great Price meets the The Lost Coin...You get the idea. Eventually, I found Pearl and took her back into the shop, dusted her off and set her down on the counter and then began to wonder why I needed her.  As I did the dishes I thought “Maybe I should read that parable about the pearl of great price...then I thought, “Hmmmm...Pearl”...  That would be such a pretty middle name for a girl”...yes, I generally think like a poetic squirrel...(Re-read that last sentence out loud slowly from “Hmmmmm...Pearl” and think Andre the Giant in the Princess Bride.  You’re welcome.)

Well, all was calm and bright and my good buddy Shannon stopped by the shop a tad bit later.  We caught up on life and then I went to ring up some crackers for her.  It was then that I realized that Pearl had rolled right beside the register and she caught my eye again.  I picked her up and said, “There you are! Thank you Jesus for this pearl!” (Because this is how I roll: I talk to Jesus.  And now pearls, apparently.)   At the moment I picked up Pearl and started talking to her, Shannon exclaimed, “That reminds me!  There’s this event next weekend-a women’s conference called “The Pearl Event”.  I was going to go, but now I can’t make it.  Maybe you would want to use my ticket and go?”

You would think I would be like, KA-ZOWEE! YES! Angels ascending and descending with unicorns and daisies...The PEARL Event!  Of course! Now it all makes perfect sense!!! But no.  I was like, “Oh, sounds neat, but I have to have the shop open on Saturday, so that’s not gonna work.  Bummer”.

So, after being bummed together for a little minute, I bid Shannon adieu and she went on her merry way. When I came back into my shop, I went directly to my computer to check emails...and lo and behold, the top email in my inbox that had just come in said in all bold caps in the subject line... (can you guess?  What did it say, people???)....That’s right!  The email said,

“THE PEARL EVENT”....Now you can enter the angels playing trumpets and riding on singing unicorns and such...And I’m like, “Alrighty then, there’s thaaaat. Meyyyyyybeeee God is trying to tell me something here?"  Three “Pearl” things in three hours?  I’m listening.

This particular email came from my friend Brittany who is friends with Sibi, the woman who started the Pearl Event. Sibi wanted Brittany to extend an invite to her friends to attend the event for free. In the process of reading the email, I also saw that they were going to have some vendor booths there as well, so I called Brittany and told her about my weird life and whirlwind relationship with Pearl and she got SUPER excited, gave Sibi a holler and told her all about the pearls and me and crackers and Hummingbirds who love Jesus, etc.  Sibi, in turn got super pumped, called me up and told me that I definitely needed to come and sell my crackers at the Pearl Event and that they’ll have a table all ready to go for me on Saturday...just like that. And while I’m at it, she says I should invite some more friends.  Done. I’m all in and now guess what?  I am PUMPED.

I LOVE PEARLS! AH HAHAHA! YES. I. DO.

Sorry, I have to backtrack again.  It’s important, I promise.  Meet my friend Crystal Mulloy. She’s a gem.  Literally, figuratively and every way you look at her.  For goodness sake, her name is Crystal.

Well, here’s where we backtrack to 2004. Crystal and I became roommates and insta-friends in Alliance, Nebraska.  Long story short, among her many gifts, Crystal paints prophetically.  She asks the Holy Spirit to guide her, and then through scripture or worship, she begins to paint and really, I mean REALLY cool things happen.  So, late Spring of 2016, we were both pretty shipwrecked, burned out, washed up. Depressed.  We were depressed. Both of us. And so, during one of our epic catch ups, she asked me to pray and ask the Lord if there was anything specific to say to her.  That next morning, I woke up with two specific scripture references in my mind I didn’t know what either of them said. However, when she looked them up, they were EXACTLY what she needed.  So that was amazing. (Holy Spirit knows the Bible!)  I asked Crystal if she might pray and ask the Lord what she could paint for me....and a few days later, she sent me this beauty:

 “Beauty from Ashes: Isaiah 61”...Just take a moment to take it in...What she didn’t know was that Isaiah 61 was the scripture passage that I wrote in the very first page of my journal for 2016 and that was what the Lord has been taking me back to time and time again as a theme for the year.  SO COOL. I was so moved by her artwork that I asked her to get them reproduced on canvas and on smaller prints so I could sell them at my shop. These were special paintings and I knew it!  I had been storing them in a closet waiting for her to send the descriptions before I offered them for sale.  That is until the Pearl Event came along. That day, I felt compelled to bring the canvas and prints with me to the event and what happened from there was staggering.

It was like the women were drawn into the painting.  Over and over, they would come to the table and instead of talking about crackers they would say “Who painted this???”  It was unmistakable that there was something special happening.  I even texted Crystal mid-day and said, “You aren’t going to believe what is happening!”  For example, one woman who was leaving soon for a trip to Cambodia to help human trafficking victims bought 5 prints and was practically in tears telling me how excited she was to take these with her and give them to the women.  WOW.

So that’s when I started pressuring Crystal, (like any good friend would), to 1) KEEP PAINTING, and 2) Come to Nashville and visit me ASAP.  I think she took me seriously because a month later I picked her up from the airport.  Suffice it to say, her visit was like water to my soul and wind in my sails.  There is nothing so sweet as a long time heart friend.  Even on the very last day, she finally began to paint something and this is what she painted in about 20 minutes before almost missing her plane (leave it to us!)

(Kinda almost looks like two friends in Oregon, doesn't it? One painting and dancing and one playing guitar! When I told you she paints prophetically, I meant it!)

Okay, so are you still with me?  I find a pearl, I throw it away. Jesus says “go get that, you’re going to need it”, I go to the Pearl Event because of the pearl.  I sell Crystal’s paintings like hotcakes at the event, that leads me to insist that Crystal come to Nashville and visit, which she does and it’s epic...That’s where we are so far....just making sure you’re not bored to ever loving tears.  

No?  Good! I’ll carry on...

So after her epic Nashville adventure fresh in our minds, I get a text from Crystal less than a week later telling me this:

As you can see, when I got her text I kind of freaked out because unbeknownst to Crystal, back in the Spring, I felt the Lord say to go to the West Coast this Summer.  He didn’t say where, just “West Coast”, so I had been thinking of everything from LA to Bethel in Redding to Portland and had already started having conversations with Portland friends about it, but since I didn’t know what exactly the Lord was saying, I hadn't made plans. When she said they needed a musician for a camp on the Oregon coast?  Let’s just say it seemed like this might be more than just a fun getaway.  

So, I started praying and wondering if this is what God meant, then really wondered HOW in the world was I going to leave my shop for over two weeks.  It didn’t seem wise or feasible, but everything else said “GO!”

On June 12, I laid it out before God in journal form: He reminded me that he’d already told me that the West Coast was in the plans and that music was to be a very important part of this season, but I said “HOW?”  And he said “Step out and you’ll see.”  Funny how much that sounds like Jesus, right?!  So in my heart I gave my yes.  I feel that this is an important thing to highlight.  You don’t have to know the “How” to give your “Yes”.  Yes is always first!

That same night after I journaled, I got a message from a graduate of Mercy named Katie.  Katie is a rockstar.  Katie loves Jesus and Hummingbird Crackers.  Katie asked if she could come by the shop the next day.  Of course!  During that visit, she informed me that she’d just been laid off of her job due to job cuts and if I knew any place hiring for the summer, to let her know.  Well, in that moment, God delivered the “HOW”.  I offered Katie a job of running the shop for two weeks and then revisiting the rest of the summer once I returned.  It was a beautiful thing to behold as she then gave her “Yes”.  In one fell swoop, God fulfilled another step in the purpose of Hummingbird Cracker Co. (to offer employment and empowerment to graduates), but through that, he allowed me to say yes to the call to music as well.  I stood there in awe of this orchestration.  It was a moment of total joy to say “God, you did it.  YOU DID IT!”  So thus began the preparation for the West Coast.  Specifically to Gearhart, Oregon the home of the Young Life Breakaway Lodge to a camp of all 6th graders.

I couldn’t book my ticket any earlier than July 2 due to my niece being in town to visit, but it seemed to work perfectly and ended up being the last day of the second week of camp.  I touched down at the Portland airport and immediately met Lee Greenwood, got a selfie and gave him and his band some crackers.

So when you meet the man who recorded the most  iconic Patriotic song of our era during the 4th of July holiday ("God Bless the USA" for you young whippersnappers and anyone else completely out of touch with the 1980's), you feel like things are starting out on the right foot! I’m not saying that meeting Lee Greenwood was necessarily a God thing, I'm just saying it was cool. Top Gun, baby.

Next, I get a text from Jeff, the camp director telling me that he’d be picking up both me and Manuel, so I should keep an eye out for Manuel.  Only problem was, I didn’t know Manuel existed, much less was coming to camp!  Turned out that Manuel was another camp staffer from Tennessee coming to help out at Breakaway at the exact time that I arrived...So I immediately got to bond with a Tennessee buddy.

As we made our way from Portland to the coast, we grilled Jeff about all things Breakaway.  He then told us part of the history of the Lodge, saying that Breakaway was built in 1924 as a retreat center for nuns.  Of course, that got my ears perked.  Later on, after we arrived, I got settled and heard Jeff mention it again, so I thought, “I really need to read up on this.”  It just felt important.  I googled Breakaway Lodge and it took me to Young Life’s Website where it gave a more detailed history :

Originally known as The Convent of St. Margaret's by the Sea, it was built in 1924 by the Society of Sisters of Holy Names. Each summer, the sisters traveled by train from Portland to Gearhart to stay at the retreat for a period of about ten days throughout the summer. The convent closed down each winter.

Gosh!  How cool is that!  That meant that these walls and halls and grounds and rooms were soaked in prayer from the very start!  And how cool that the prayers would continue on after they were gone! I imagined a sweet sister in prayer years ago in my wonderful little room above the laundry room
and wondered what she might have been talking to God about.

As I pondered this, the thing that really stood out to me in a highlighted way was the original name of the lodge: “St. Margaret’s by the Sea”. And it was built by the Sisters of the Holy Names.  There is something significant and powerful about names and why things are named what they are. I wondered what might be significant about the name Margaret and so I felt prompted to look up what the name Margaret meant, and when I did, I just about fell over in shock, laughter and awe...

The name Margaret means PEARL.

And this, my friends, this was just the beginning...

Matthew 13:45-48

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.  When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."

(As a final note, as I was writing this blog, I looked up more about St. Margaret and realized that while much of her true story is unknown, her day of martyrdom for Christ is today, July 20. Even if you're not much into celebrating saints, it's a powerful and important thing to remember all those who have gone before to carry the true light of Christ into the world. For that, I am very thankful. Let us be the light TODAY!)

Cooking oil, two nudges and a rope...

                                 

This is a crazy God story.

I think I need to tell it. I'm not even sure where to begin, and I'm still quite overwhelmed, but here goes. This rope was given to me a couple of hours ago by a man in the East Nashville Kroger parking lot. He told me he was going to use it to hang himself before Labor Day on Monday. Right? Right.

Maybe more than anything, this is a story of God's powerful love that intercepts the darkness in very unconventional ways. I'm reminded that He is always speaking. I've been asking to hear him more clearly and praying for courage to obey. Tonight, he pulled me kicking and screaming into the answer of that prayer.

I had a discouraging day. I flew back from Colorado yesterday. Truthfully, this time I didn't want to come back to Nashville...I miss my friends and family out West more than ever. I am stressed out about finances and really uncertain about what the future holds. There are a lot of moving pieces in life right now. So, that's what is really going on and I felt the weight of it today in an overwhelming way...I kept hearing, "give up, give up, give up".

Well, tonight, in the middle of all that mess of me, I realized I had no groceries, so I went to Kroger. While in the checkout line, the cashier accidentally charged me for a bottle of cooking oil that belonged to the man in line behind me. She deleted it from my bill, but right away I felt a nudge and I heard "buy it for him". I second guessed if it was really God, but then figured what the heck and told the man, "You know what? I'm going to buy that oil for you after all". He (and the cashier) looked at me like I was crazy, and both said "No, you don't have to!" and I said, "I know, but I want to-that's what makes it fun". I gave him a hug and walked out to my car.

I started to drive off and then I caught a glimpse of the man as he walked out of the store and I saw he had a limp. I felt the same nudge again-only even stronger: "Go ask him about that limp" "Ugh!!! WHAT??? Um...NO, Lord! I want to follow your lead, but this is getting weird and uncomfortable!! I want to go home, my ice cream is melting and I'm still kind of sad!"

But the nudge would not go away.

Holy Spirit and I went back and forth, so I circled the parking lot, trying to figure out what to do and how to get out of this. I was about to drive off, but no matter what, I could always see the man! It was kind of like weird slow motion-every time I looked, I could see him, even in a busy parking lot.

Super. Weird.

When I looked back the last time, I saw him getting into his car. He then started to drive away in a different row towards the exit and so I sighed in relief and literally thought "Oops, too late. I guess I can't talk to him now." I am such a brat. Phew! I dodged that Holy Spirit crazy bullet.

(I am adding this part, lest you think I'm some saintly angel who constantly drives around parking lots looking for people to talk to or pray for...I totally want to do this, I've seen God do some crazy stuff and I've told the Lord I want to be brave and I want to hear him clearly, and be on the front lines, but when things like this happen, there's ALWAYS a battle with my pride and fear, which wins about 50% of the time)...

So the man was driving away....and then he stopped his car...(I don't know why) and with that, our cars met in the parking lot and I waved. He rolled down his window and said something like "oh hey thank you", and then it got really real: Last chance to accept the nudge. I said, "okay, Lord, here we go, You lead". I said to the man, "I have a question for you!" I got out of my car went up to his car and asked him about his limp.

Long story short: He got shot in the head 20 years ago and had to re-learn everything. He said he knows God spared his life back then, but he's really hit rock bottom lately. He's about to lose his house, his kids are in trouble, money and job troubles, etc etc....He said, "I don't know why you did that for me tonight...I really don't know, but I ended up buying something for the man behind me to pay it forward and it changed how I was feeling..." I told him that was really awesome and that I sure didn't know either, except that I felt like God clearly told me to buy the oil for him, and maybe it was so he would remember that God knows him and loves him...

That's when he started crying. He paused for a bit and then said, "What you did in the store was nice, but what I can't get over is that you stopped again to talk to me here tonight...I know you don't know me and there's no way you could know what I'm going through in life right now...I can't believe I'm doing this, but I'm going to tell you something...I think you saved my life tonight..." (at this point, I'm like, "WHATTT?" on the inside)...He reached into the back seat and pulled out a long rope. He said, "I've really been wanting to end my life. I've tried different ways several times before, but it never worked, but I told myself I'd do it this way before Labor day. I've kept going back and forth about it in my mind because of my kids"...

Long story short, I listened. I asked if I could take the rope and he said no and threw it back into the back seat. So I listened some more. He let me pray for him and then I asked for the rope again. He said "No, I can't give it to you, I still might need it". Then I took a stand and said "You know, the enemy is messing with you and you are playing right into his hand if you don't decide for real. You've got to CHOOSE to live, but no one can make you choose. God is giving you a choice right now." He started crying again and kept saying "How did you know? How did you know?" And I told him I had no clue, but God knows him inside and out and he wants him to choose once and for all to live. He then grabbed the rope and handed it to me, bawling. I led him in a prayer renouncing death and choosing life and giving all of his life to God, asking for peace and healing. He told me he felt God's presence.

I don't really even know what to say except just to tell the story. I'm still really processing this. That freaking rope is now out on my porch and I know how close I came to ignoring the Holy Spirit.

God, thank you for inviting me (and sometimes dragging me kicking and screaming) into your story.

Starting up again...

Monday morning decompression at the Jam Coffeeshop

I am starting to use my blog again (!!!!!)  and am inviting others into the journey as I write. I came across this prayer that I wrote last year and thought I would begin by sharing it today...Starting with Psalm 23


YOU are my shepherd, so I will not want for anything.
YOU make me lie down in green pastures.
YOU lead me beside the still waters.
YOU restore my soul.
YOU lead me in paths of righteousness for YOUR name!
 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
 I will NOT fear evil, for YOU are with me!
Your rod and your staff, the comfort me.
YOU prepare a table laid out in front of me In the presence of my enemies;
YOU anoint my head with oil;
 MY CUP OVERFLOWS!
 Surely GOODNESS and MERCY will follow me ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE
 And I will dwell in the house of the Lord FOREVER!

 Thank you so much, Father, that even when life is hard, it is so incredibly, beyond words GOOD. You have said this to me, and I wasn’t sure if I could believe you, but I believe you now because you have opened my eyes, ripped off the layers in order to pour your healing, which is your very self into me, and you have caused my soul to feel and my spirit to be brought back to life. Thank you that you saw fit to give me new vision, new hope, new insight, new resolve, new peace, new strength and endurance and new inspiration for whatever you have called me to. You are just this good and I really can’t contain it, so now my tears leak out of my face out of sheer gratitude and thankfulness and how amazing you are. I feel like I’m living again, but I’m REALLY living, not just existing as a half-shadow, trapped in my thick glass cage that I could see out of, but was not really living and moving within as I slowly lost the oxygen. I know you’ve known and seen all along, but my heart still marvels…How did you know just what to do to me? How did you know when? How did you know what to speak to my heart? Thank you for this deep, deep life that you have awakened and thank you for being THERE. I don’t want to stop talking to you, communing with you. I know that there will be times when perhaps I feel distant or disconnected again. I know that there will be moments of confusion, but I know where you are and I know where I want you to be. I know when I wake up, where I want to find you- right beside me. When I close my eyes, I want you to be my last conscious thought, and then let me breathe thanks in and out in the night hours. Even if things get hard, be right beside me always. This IS what makes life right. YOU ARE what makes life right- absolutely NOTHING else! What a marvel! Burn up the false life and false self that so easily and readily searches for an opportunity to present itself. Point this out to me and let me not wallow in the shame of it, but rather rejoice in the fact that you have shown this to me in order to keep me free. Thank you that you have made me beautiful and whole and complete, not lacking any good thing. I move to pray for these people all around me- make their souls come on fire, too. Make us yours, Lord. We are only shells without being yours. We walk around as if to say that we own this life and our destiny, all the while so blind to the fact that it’s YOU, YOU, YOU and will always and forever be you- beginning and the end. Jesus, set your spirit- which is your life and heart and love within me, so that wherever I go, it is you going there with me and revealing yourself to the places I go and the people I see and any words that are ever said. I continue to receive this quiet, bold confidence of your place at the deepest part of my heart. Teach me how to articulate your life in me, when you call me to do so. But most importantly, let your fire burning within me begin to set the world on fire.

While shopping for guitars...

So, today I went and got my dog vaccinated in a part of town I've never been in before. Then I thought, "I'm hungry", so I stopped at a Starbucks. Then, I saw that there was a music store right in that same complex, so I decided to go peek at a couple of guitars. Or five. And I got a lesson in something else while there. The nice man, Greg led me back to the guitar room. Perfectly lit, wondrously humidified and temperaturized with that wood smell that makes a guitar player's heart melt. I love sticking my nose in a solid wood guitar. Amazing.
After convincing him that I wasn't looking for a $500 guitar, he led me over to the Taylors and Martins. This is more like it. We got down a couple of the ones in the $2,500-$3,500 price range. I sat on the stool, he plugged me in and I played away. He asked me for my first impressions. I had a hard time telling him. That's when I really started to pay attention, closing my eyes. I realized that I was trying to hear and understand the difference between guitars instead of just feel the difference of each one being played in my hand. Pretty soon, I was able to describe them pretty well. There was a particular Martin that was beautiful. I love how it looked. He asked me how I liked it after I played it for a minute. First thing that came out of my mouth: "Boring". I tried to convince myself that it was amazing, especially after looking at the $3,000 price tag. But truth be told, the guitar felt stiff, unresponsive, cold and boring in my hands. The guys eyebrows went up and then he said "good!" and took it out of my hand, praising me as if we'd just won a victory. Then it clicked. I said, "I think I just learned something about relationships". The guy laughed and said, "yeah, you're exactly right. It IS a relationship. I'm going to use that. Too bad I can't send you royalties!"
So what I realized is that I shouldn't feel bad to admit what a guitar feels like to me. I'm not passing judgement on it's actual value. I'm 100% sure that the Martin was a fine, well-crafted and valuable instrument. I was only expressing how it felt when I held it and played it. It just didn't work and didn't fit. I think this is how it is in relationships. I've gotten so technical and felt bad when I couldn't make it work instead of trusting that by passing on something, I am allowing that person to be discovered by someone else who feels that this is right, and I am also giving myself an opportunity to discover new sounds, if that makes sense. One thing I realized, too. Don't dismiss the feeling of "home" in guitars or relationships. I think I got so practical that I forgot to believe that finding someone you love like crazy does involve time and choice, but there still is magic and mystery and beauty as well. I think I'd convinced myself that this was all a bunch of "hooey", as my Uncle Bruce would say. So, here's another thought. No matter what guitar you choose to play, to do it well will take time, discipline, commitment, practice, error and more practice and patience. But, when you're playing on a guitar that you love, that feels good and that feels natural and like "home", it makes the practice much more fun and enjoyable. So, choosing a guitar is a lot like love, I think.

Daniel Fast... (Day 8, or so)

I have been embarking on a Daniel Fast. It began quite as an accident, but I use the word "accident" very loosely. With God, nothing is accidental. I thought I'd be very strict with myself, so as to beat these crusty demons out of me - (water only for 10 days, steel yourself for the battle)...then I fell flat on my face by the middle of the first day, so hungry and weak and unable. On the way home from work that day I thought "I'll just go get some vegetables from the store"...and right there in Sunflower Market, in the produce section, I hear the word of the Lord..."I want you to desire the things that are pure"... So, I bought stock in veggies and fruits that day, and I have become quite creative, but it is something, yes, it is something! It is the work of the Spirit in me...(so good is God)...that every time I eat I feel him rejoicing over me as I fill up on these vegetables and fruits...I mean, there is nothing magical about veggies...but just as Jesus revealed things through the commonplace, so that they weren't commonplace any longer upon his touch. So it is here.
I feel so much freedom and it is a beautiful thing.

I want to desire the things that are pure. I want to desire all of God.

I feel like there is a flower blooming right out of my heart. I feel like I just took my fingers out of my ears. I feel like I'm coming alive again.

slipping time, slipping soul (Fasting Day 1-3)

If someone would have asked me how long it has been since I had written a blog here, I probably would have responded with something like this: "Oh, it's been a while...maybe since the spring of '09"...Well, count me as wrong. I can hardly believe it, but computers never lie (they don't, do they?" It's been since April of 2008? Really??? What have I done since April of 2008? The answer is, I've done a lot, but a lot of it has just gone into the void space, which is sometimes okay, but mostly, I'd like to be able to look back and recount these things. I'd like to recount again the ways that the Lord has showed his goodness in the middle of so many emotions varying from depression, to utter elation in seeing his provision, to guilt and struggle, to apathy. How frail I am...but I am here.

So, it is Lent 2010, and I am fasting...ending day 3, actually. It has come to the point where God always seems to let me know when I need to begin a fast. Not a booming voice, but more of a familiar nudge. This familiar nudge has always been met with a certain sense of anticipation as well as a good dose of dread and anxiety, and this time is no exception to the rule.
I began thinking that I would do a 10 day, water only fast. I didn't feel extremely prepared, but thought I'd just push through. I didn't even do anything for the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday. I was going to fast just that day and totally flopped! I was so hungry at work and thought "well, I'll begin later". I knew I'd be singing in a wedding this past weekend and that it wouldn't really be an appropriate time to be fasting- for so many reasons...So, after little sleep and lots of food and beverages after a long weekend, I attempted to begin on Monday. This attempt was met with some of the most intense fatigue I've ever experienced during fasting, and all while I was at work. If I'd been home, able to lay down, pray, push through, that might have been something different. I don't know if it was mostly a mental hurdle of knowing I'd begun to go without food, but whatever it was, it translated to me literally falling asleep at my computer and being in a total dizzying fog while I stood scanning documents into the copier. So, what did I do? I ate 5 almonds. It helped. Some. I thought, "How can I justify fasting when I can't physically perform my job?" So, I began to ponder this thought and how I felt in my spirit and I thought about what I'd been reading in Daniel. The Daniel fast of vegetables and water only for 10 days. And I just landed there. Only vegetables (and fruit) for 10 days. And thus began this time of fasting.
I anticipated that it wouldn't be much of a fast because I wasn't REALLY going without. I changed my mind today when my boss asked me to go to Winchell's and buy donuts for everyone in the office. Oh, did I mention that we also had breakfast burritos? We did. I didn't. I really, really wanted to. Let me add one more "REALLY" to that sentence! Two words: apple fritter.
So, these are the things that have become readily apparent to me, and I believe a work of revelation of the Spirit, even in the last 3 days:

I've been feeling very weak in my spirit. There has been a slow crack of my soul with God. Nothing abundantly obvious. But a crack is a crack, even if only apparent by looking closely. It still has devastating effects. So it is with me, and I have felt it. Nothing is compartmentalized, even when we want it to be. We are Body, Mind, Spirit and when one suffers, so do the others. So, it became very clear on Monday the condition of my soul. This says nothing about God's love for me. I feel loved and treasured all the same. But there have been so many other fasts that have been relatively easy, as my spirit is strong and I am ready to bear down with God. Not the feeling this time.

Here is the beautiful thing: I went to Sunflower Market and bought plenty of fruits and vegetables. And this is what I feel like God is showing me:

This is not about how much you give up

Eat as many fruits and vegetables you like-to your hearts delight

this is about desiring (maybe learning to desire) what is pure

you will crave junk (physically and spiritually), and it is readily available, but it will never fulfill you


So, Lord, here I am
I'm kind of a wreck, and I will resist the temptation to compare my soul situation to others who are "more of a wreck". It doesn't matter. I see where I stand. You never move, but I have moved, so I feel the sting, although, still yet, I feel Love. Even if I didn't, I'd believe Love.
I'm tired of the lust and the discontentment of my soul. I'm tired of where it leads me. Much too far from your heart and into my own cravings for the temporary gratification. As if that ever gave me what I really desire. I don't deny the powerful desire to be in a relationship, to be a wife and a mother. But that still must be met through unselfishness and purity.
So, Holy Spirit, Come! Convince me of what I already know. As I stretch out my hand to yours extended, teach me a new facet of your face and of your heart.

So, Lord, thank you for meeting me and being ultimate Good. Thank you for speaking. Help me to listen well.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice. And the God of Peace will be with you" Philippians 4:8-9

Song of the Waiting Heart

What is it I hear through the trees
Coming down the mountains like the rushing onset of spring?
And what is brought to me on the wind,
Playing with wisps of hair as it pulls thoughts to my mind?
What is it that squeezes tears from my heart?
It is neigher of sorrow nor joy, but from a faint melody in which I start
to hear the voice of one that I've dreamed of for many days.
Do I imagine it now or will I turn around and gaze
Into soul windows of one with thoughts that speak to mine?
Yet still, I am left to wonder when it will finally be our time.

I could wander the paths that are shortcuts to love,
Waste life giving myself up
These painful paths lead only to ends
Littered with broken hearts trying to beat again.
O Hope, strengthen me to believe
That Patience will someday have its reprieve,
Gird me with the wings of Charity
Until Love be granted me.

And what is it that I hear through the trees?
The music of souls, the music of these things
Which confirm my sometime panging heart to wait,
To trust this song be not in vain.
Then on some morning, noon or night
When the tune of souls is playing kind,
then at one I know the dance will start
For the love that waits in these two hearts.


2-14-01

a vision of Jesus...

It is very humbling and terrifying to think that one can encounter the divine and live in the grace to tell about it. I know that I can count myself among the skeptics when, upon hearing another speak of hearing God or seeing God, I take a moment to pause and wonder if such encounters are simply of the imagination. Yet, I think there are the times in our own experience that prove to be so profound and so tangible, that no matter what skepticism enters the picture, there is the overshadowing indelible seal of the Spirit confirming that the unexplainable mystery of God has somehow encountered our own time and space.

I have been wanting to make such an entry of my encounter with the broken Christ since last May, and I have felt altogether lacking in my ability to even begin to explain it. Any words seem so inferior, but what makes me begin my effort tonight? I don't know, but nevertheless, I will try.

Last May, I attended a conference at Denver Seminary called the Spiritual Formation Forum. The three day conference was focused on Journeying with Jesus. I was just beginning my own journey into the possibility of what it would look like to become a spiritual director or counselor, so I attended. At this conference, I helped my brother in law lead worship as well.

There are often times that, as much as I feel a passion for leading others in worship, that I ultimately despise it as well. I'm sure this sounds almost blasphemous, but it is true. It is based on the fact that I know our worship here on earth is such a shadow of things to come and I feel that so acutely that I sometimes hate even trying. It feels so lacking compared with the holiness of God. What if we were to even get a glimpse? We would be doing something altogether different that what we do. I am convinced that we would be on our faces in such a holy and spellbinding silence that the world would stand still for just a moment.

Our team led worship the first night and it felt so forced to me. I was nervous, I was so self-focused and nervous as I sang. The second night was when everything changed. Another group led worship, so we were able to just sit with all the others. I sat about half way back and others were clapping along to the music, but my spirit was revolted by it all. I sat there and the last thing I wanted to do was clap or raise my hands and all the worship leader kept saying or yelling was "raise your hands, praise the Lord, dance!", etc. I just couldn't do it and I didn't know why, but I was almost nauseated by it. I began to feel a pull to the back of the room. When I say pull, I mean pull. It was as if some force was telling me to go there and I just followed. I had to get out of the crowd and have some space to just be with God outside of this experience.

As I went closer to the back of the room, I began to watch from the back what we looked like and again, the nausea came back. I began to scream inside "this is all wrong!" It wasn't that the worship wasn't genuine, but it felt so misguided as I watched everyone facing towards the front, towards the worship team, I almost felt like I was watching them worship the wrong thing. This is the best way I can describe it and yet, in that moment, I could not understand what was happening or why. And then the vision came.

In my mind's eye, but as clear as if I'd physically turned around, I had a vision of the back of the room behind me and to my left. I did not turn around, but I could see it and what I saw took my breath away. I saw a man slumped in a chair in the corner of the back of the room against the wall. He was absolutely broken and silent and his clothes were ripped and hanging off of him. His skin was dirty and sweaty and his hair hung down low, sticking to most his face. He sat, dejected and slumped in pain and utterly alone. His arms were limp and his head hung low to his chest, but he was able to barely lift his eyes and he just watched us. As I take time to describe him, it may seem that I looked and observed him for a while, but the opposite is true. It was in the same exact moment that I first took in the vision of him that I recognized him and I knew. It was the Lord. It was Jesus. It was him, there was no doubt and yet the sight of him absolutely shocked me. My breath was gone from my chest, and yet now it was not just in the vision, for I physically could not catch my breath and in a sob I said to him, "Lord, what are you doing here like this? I don't understand this". And yet again, in that moment I felt I did understand because I saw what he was seeing. I wanted to yell at all the people "Stop your noises! He's back here, don't you see him???" But the noise kept on. There was the biggest chasm I have ever felt in what I explained earlier about being unfit for worship.

I began to not be able to contain what I was seeing. It was too much for me to contain the image of his holiness combined with the vision of his brokenness and his poverty and how he was appearing. It was just that. Absolute brokennes and ugliness and yet, he did not lose one fiber of his holiness and beauty. I don't even know how to describe the distinct span of the depth of the Savior that I experienced that night. I ran out of the room and all the way outside completely overwhelmed by it all. It literally felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest and then came a gut-wrenching cry that I don't know if I will ever, or if I would ever want to feel that again as long as I live. I felt like he was uniting me to his Passion and I cried "Lord, I can't take this! Why, Lord?"

After awhile, as I somewhat regained my composure, I was able to begin to go back inside. All of this happened unbeknownst to anyone else and so it became all the more overwhelming to understand. I went back into the room and began to listen as the guest speaker, who I was unfamiliar with (both who she was and what she was going to be speaking on) began her talk. It was all I could do to not dissolve again when she said, "tonight, I will be talking to you about recognizing Jesus in the poor and the broken". I knew, I KNEW that I had seen and encountered our beautiful savior, revealed in all his brokenness.

I still have yet to fully understand this, and I'm certain that I never will completely grasp it, but I think of him often in this way and I still feel the pain when I do. Maybe as often as I remember, I also forget as well. But tonight I remember. I remember that I dare not "worship" unless I am worshiping him through the lens of serving the poor and the broken. I realize that I dare not forget the cost of his life for us and the justice he is bringing and calls us to bring. I realize again that I must align my worship in his presence and I must sit at his broken and holy feet and lose every part of me, if only to be found in him. I want to count everything as rubbish compared to knowing him and participating in his suffering.

This was the suffering servant of Isaiah 53...and why would he count any of us worthy to even share in his suffering, much less his glory?

Most often, as tonight, all the words cannot measure the scope of this greatness.

a vision of the Lord.

Things I did on my 30th Birthday...

A simple blog bid farewell to my twenties and just to say that I had a really nice day...

I got a great call from a friend who ALWAYS remembers my birthday, even if it's the one time a year we talk.

I got a call from my sis who tried to get the kiddos to sing and they all chickened out...I smiled.

Jen and Kevin Fuller called on their way to Chicago. Jen is my girl birthday buddy. Love that!

I picked up my friend, Jessica from Union Station. She rode the train overnight from Lincoln to get here early and hang out with me on my birthday.

We got breakfast in the highlands and had a great conversation.

We got manicures and pedicures!!! wonderful!

Had lunch with Jessica and my friend Alan from church who is my boy birthday buddy. We ate greasy hamburgers and then sang happy birthday to each other and paid for each other's meal, which is kind of corny, but FUN! I gave him a lightsaber. That's right, a lightsaber.

I gave Jessica a tour of Hope House and then dropped her off.

I came to work at Hope House as usual.

Right now, I'm wishing I was asleep already, but hey, I only turn 30 once, right?

So, Happy Birthday to Me, Jen and Alan
Happy St. Joseph's Day...give it up for Jesus' dad!
And Happy Spring!!!
And Happy Easter!!!

How life is...

A late night here at Hope House...it's my choice this time, but even when it's not, I don't mind. I'm sitting in the office here, eating an occasional chocolate pretzel, trying not to smudge chocolate on my white Macbook. All my stuff from my overnight bag to a projector and my trusty guitar is sprawled out all over the place now that the girls have gone to bed. To me, this is a beautiful thing. To me this is like home and home for my heart. So why did I take that other job? Well, that's what I've been asking myself for the past 3 weeks.

I thought it was God's plan, although there wasn't any over-abundance of peace, but it seemed that the outward circumstances and wisdom spoke louder than my inward doubts. It was what I'd been asking for, right? There certainly were a lot of green lights, so I decided to leap after pondering for a week after being offered the job. Maybe it is His plan, but as I've sat in that office for the past 3 weeks, I have felt that a very big part of me is just shriveling up. I feel almost withered and I dread going every single day, which by the way, is only Monday, Tuesday and part of Wednesday. I can honestly say that I can count on one hand the times I've ever felt that way about Hope House in the past year and a half...and that was just after an extremely tough week, but with this job it's every day. This can't be good, can it?

Now, don't get me wrong, the job I have is probably amazing. There are people who would kill for a job like this. A fairly high profile organization that does such amazing non profit work and the job just fell into my lap, out of nowhere. There was no application process, it was like it was there for the taking and I don't even know why. I still don't get why they thought I was the best candidate for the job. I really, really don't know.

On top of that, I didn't even have to totally quit working at Hope House. I just dropped down from 4 overnights to 2 overnights a week, so I thought it wasn't a big deal. But you know what? I hate it! I hate being gone from here. I honestly had no idea how much I'd miss being here with the girls and kids and feeling connected to their lives. Laughing, crying, praying, dealing with the annoyances and loving them and their kids all the more.

The thing is, if God's doing something bigger than what I can fathom and immediately see, then fine. I'm all for that. But at the risk of being a drama queen, I'm starting to feel like Marty McFly in back to the future. Remember that scene when he goes back in time and his future mom starts dancing with another guy besides his future dad and he takes out the picture of his family and they are starting to disappear and his hand is, too? I kind of feel like I'm venturing down some weird path that sets my stomach to flipping at the thought of it. It's not even that I think there's this one selected path and if I miss it, God's gonna strike me down. I feel freedom there, but with the freedom of choice comes the desolation and consolation and boy, do I feel desolate at this point in time.

I feel like I could drop this job in 1.5 seconds and never look back in regret. But, how do I balance these emotions with what might be something that I'm supposed to learn from? Just because something is uncomfortable, doesn't mean it's wrong, but where do I place my emotions?

Also, this is a tough time because I'm still missing mom after 11 years and today is her death day. I know it's truly for her a passing to LIFE day, but for us down here, it's still death and it still stings temporarily. So many days I just want to call her on the phone like I used to. How I would love to hear what she'd have to say about all this.

I'm 29, teetering on the edge of 30, which means that this year and at this particular time, I'm the exact age mom was when she had me. The void feels bigger each year. I used to get annoyed when friends would whine about their age and so now I'm annoyed at myself! I think, "Get over it!!!: But I do feel bummed that my 30th birthday is next Wednesday and is sandwiched on either side by two weddings: One the weekend before, and one the weekend after. One of the things that happened when I thought about taking this job was that my boss here at Hope House said "You won't be a residential counselor at Hope House forever, but this opportunity could be your career" And I thought immediately that I don't want or care about a freaking career because I really just want to be a wife and a mom and I know I'm called to music and to ministry.

I felt God calling me to a strict focus this year and now I just feel like I'm all over the place, in such a place of unrest. So where does this leave me? Well, before I say anything else, I know that if you read this blog, you might begin to wonder if I'm perpetually depressed and bemoaning my single state and in a constant mode of reminiscing. I really don't think that's true, it's just that when I get to a point of needing to vent something out, it's usually here that I do it to get some semblance of order.

Again, where does this leave me? Well, must God change my feelings? What if that doesn't happen? A couple of weeks ago as I was working, I felt an overwhelming sense of just wanting to leave and not come back and then in the depth of that feeling, there was this Peace, and I mean Peace, as in it was like a tangible person, which I can only assume was Jesus was right beside me. I felt something touch my head, akin to when a dad or grandpa pats his kids on the head to comfort. That's what it felt like and I heard him say, "It's okay, there's a reason for this, just hang on". I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that means.

cars, weddings, and supermodels...

It's a strange title for a post, I know. The fact of the matter is that I haven't blogged in quite some time and so the outcome of that is that I'm going to smash three random thoughts together in quick fashion because it's late, I'm tired and my dishwasher is running. That last fact is true, but really has nothing to do with anything at all. Just thought I'd add that explanation in case anyone might get stuck wondering about the significance of my dishwasher and miss the rest of my brilliant blog. Do read on.

Two days ago I set out to write the list that I've been meaning to make for a while now. It's always been just because I wanted to, but recently it became necessity. I'm singing in a wedding in late March. The day before Easter and 3 days after my 30th birthday, in fact. I don't really know these people, but I said yes anyway. Well, they needed some suggestions for wedding songs, so I thought it's high time to make that list of all the songs I've sung at weddings. In the process of doing this, it made even more sense to make the list of the weddings I've sung at. That way I could actually picture and remember what I sang. Want to know what I came up with? I bet you do! I've been the wedding singer 17 going on 18 times! This doesn't count the times I've also been a bridesmaid...and yes, it's more than three times, so there! Now, I surprised even myself because I've never made the list before and once I started I kept remembering more and more...I've felt honored to be asked each time, but gosh, it sure seems like a lot...

I was laying in bed thinking last night about the list and when I came to the number of 17, it gave me pause...I thought to myself, "Hey, that's the same number of cars that I've had!" Yes, I've had 17 cars in my lifetime...crazy, but still true. So really, there's no corelation there, just random at best...I think. I started driving at 16 and I sang in my first wedding at 16, too. Is this some kind of strange coping mechanism??? Okay, I'm just kidding.

So, on to my third thought. Today was Superbowl Sunday. God bless football. Patriots vs. NY Giants. The underdog Giants kicked some undefeated Patriots tail. Pretty impressive. Well, anyone who's been watching tv knows that the media talks about the Patriot's quarterback Tom Brady a lot. But almost more that his football abilities, they stalk him obsessively about his relationship with girlfriend Gisele Bundchen, you know, that model from Victoria's Secret that makes you NOT want to ever buy anything from there because 1) my legs will never be 10 feet long like hers and 2) I'm not really sure I would want 10 foot long legs...(maybe one size bigger bra if I was ordering it up, but that's another topic never to be discussed...yeah.) Well anyway, one of the guys I watched the game with said something about Gisele having this weird birth defect that made her legs grow ridiculously long and so it made her the supermodel she is when Victoria's Secret capitalized on that. So after I got home, I hit my trusty Google to find out if it was true. I didn't find that out, but I did find Gisele's very own official web site. Turns out that at 27, she's the world's 16th richest woman...and then here's why I'm rambling about Gisele. She had sections she wrote about growing up, teen years, ambitions, interests and dreams...You want to know what she put as her one dream? Hmmm...let's guess: Make a few million more bucks? No. Buy out Oprah by the time she hits 30? No. Get a leg reduction? Noooo...Her dream is to have a family of her own and that it would be as good as when she grew up with her 5 sisters and parents in Brazil. So, Ms. beautiful, rich, successful Gisele has one dream and that is to be a wife and mom. Go figure, eh? And so, not that I use Gisele as my moral meter, but it did give me thought that when it all boils down, we're all pretty much the same in those ingrained desires. So, even with 10 foot legs, I hope Tom dumps her or makes an honest man of himself...maybe with a baby she'll even out with 10 foot wide hips...okay, I'm done!

Christmas...

I wanted to fashion a song I could bring
to lay at the feet of the one I call King
But as I drew nearer to his manger throne
I just fell on my knees and I worshiped alone
I fell on my knees and my heart found a home

There were the angels singing, the star was shining bright
to welcome the entrance of God's perfect Light
Creation joined together to shout the Savior's birth
So let heaven resound, let there be peace on the earth
Now Heaven's come down, there is peace, peace for the earth

Just think of Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and kings
Such unlikely people, but miraculous things
And still goes the story in our world today
Will our hearts find the room to prepare Him the way?
Will our hearts make the room to prepare the Lord's way?

Oh Jesus, Jesus, Love of God shown
Why would you make a manger your throne?
To rescue a people who stumbled and fell....
This was the hope that the prophets did foretell
And now this is the story that I want to tell...


Merry Christmas to All...May God fill you will His Light, His Peace, His Joy and His Hope as we wait and trust in Him, the One who is ever-faithful to fulfill His promises. Blessings...

Drove to a high place in the city...

Drove to a high place in the city
looked out at the mountains
And the sun was blazing fire
watched as the last ditch ray tried to shine
til' it was swallowed by the blue jagged line
And wondered about the people in the plane
Above my head
until now, this view was undiscovered
But the freedom to explore where I like
has brought me here
And I had a strange thought-
That at this exact moment
there is no one in the world
who knows where I am-
And even if they tried to find me
it would take a while
So it left me feeling a little lonely
but it left me knowing I'm still with you
And you see me here
overlooking my life
here in this time and space
I'm listening to hear who I am
Because the sun goes down so fast

Advent Reflection...

I just got this from an email from the Chaplain at Denver Seminary, who is also my professor for the class I've been taking this semester called "Readings of the Spiritual Masters". Somehow, Advent snuck up on me this year. I will blog more later about it's personal meaning, but for now, I wanted to post this Advent Reflection from our Chaplain to help in preparation...

This Sunday, December 2, is the beginning of Advent season in which we look forward in hope to the celebration of the Feast of Christmas. I hope this reflection will begin your preparation for the coming of Christ in a new and fresh way into your heart and into your world.

Luke 3:1-6---A time of preparation
"We have come to understand a threefold coming of the Lord. The third coming lies between the other two. Two of the comings are clearly visible, but the third is not. In the first coming the Lord was seen on earth, dwelling among us; and as he himself testified, they saw him and hated him. In his final coming all flesh shall see the salvation of our God, and they will look on him whom they pierced. The intermediate coming is hidden, in which only his chosen recognize his presence within themselves and their souls are saved. In his first coming our Lord came in our flesh and in our weakness; in the intermediate coming he comes in spirit and in power; in his final coming, he will be seen in glory and majesty. This intermediate coming is like a road on which we travel from his first coming to his last. In the first, Christ was our redemption; in the last, he will appear as our life; in his intermediate coming, he is our comfort and our rest." ---Bernard of Clairvaux

Advent trains us to recognize His hidden comings. How has He come to you recently?

"Loving Saviour, be pleased to show yourself to us who knock, so that in knowing you we may love only you, love you alone, desire you alone, contemplate only you day and night, and always think of you. Inspire in us the depth of love that is fitting for you to recieve as God. So may your love pervade our whole being, possess us completely, and fill all our senses, that we may know no other love but love for you who are everlasting. May our love be so great that the many waters of sky, land and sea connot extinguish it in us: for many waters cannot quench love. May this saying be fulfilled in us also, at least in part, by your gift, Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen." ---Columbanus (543-615)

a year in the life of me...

I am having a stare down with the big 3-0 and I feel strangely excited about it. Today marks the one year anniversary of working at Hope House. Once again, I marvel at what has happened in the last 365 days of my fleeting life. Here are some things I've learned:

I've Learned That...

1) When God really wants to get your attention, don't worry, he will. It might even be while you're buying makeup at Target.

2) Having to give your dog away really, really, really sucks.

3)It's possible to have the flu, a cold, sinus infection, bronchitus and pinkeye all at the same time...and survive to tell about it.

4) that my "mommy" clock is ticking, and that's okay.

5)Just because I don't see an outcome doesn't mean that God isn't doing something behind the scenes.

6) I miss the Catholic Church, but that doesn't necessarily mean that's where I'm supposed to be right now.

7) You can run a full marathon and a year later not be able to run 2 miles without having to stop...dangit!

8)That I really miss being in a close community of people my own age.

9)God cared that I wanted a sunroom in my next house

10) When I get depressed, my house gets dirty

11) It's okay to admit that I'm really lonely. It doesn't mean I trust less, it just means I feel more.

12) I miss youth ministry

13) I love working with teen moms

14) I can really love someone even when they're about to punch me in the face.

15) Getting snowed in at work for 3 days isn't really that bad!!!

16) Craigslist ROCKS!

17) Jettas are evil

18) Having your own space is a really healthy thing.

19) Dressing up as Tigger for Halloween 2 years in a row is great fun

20) The smallest gesture of interest means A LOT when you've waited a really long time for it.

21) God has it all.

I need a man...to change my oil

Wait, let me rephrase that. I need a man to unscrew the bolt on the bottom of my oil pan, so that I can go ahead and do the rest. I usually find myself quite capable, usually fairly intuitive and resourceful. I've needed my oil changed for a while now and I'm going on a trip next weekend. My brother in law was the last one to change the oil in my car and I should have known better. It is true: I am no match for Jerry's bionic arm, which keeps tightening things until he himself can barely undo it the next time (except that he has the bionic thing going for him, so he finds a way). One time, he pulled the emergency brake on my car so tight while parking it, that I had to call him to come and release it. Man.

So, I got the oil, filter, wrench, gloves, oil pan, rags and proceeded to crawl under my car. This feels good. I am woman. Watch me change oil. 15 minutes later, the only progress I've made is a fairly good workout, a cramping leg muscle, one piece of tumbleweed and two leaves in my hair and many repetitions of "you piece of crap". I don't really know what I was referring to or who I was slurring with that statement. Maybe my arm, which apparently is NOT bionic.

So, I gave up...for now. I know how to do the rest. It's just that stupid bolt which will not budge. So, like I said, I do need a man...with a wrench in his hand. Maybe I'll post it to Craigslist.