Siren Call of "The New"

Let it be said that I love new things. Whether it's a new toothbrush or a new outfit-- I just love getting something new. I even love going to the grocery store, putting all those shiny new fruits & veggies in my cart, looking at all the interesting items my friend, Trader Joe, has to offer. If it were up to me (and if my paycheck had an extra zero), the economy would be doing much better, my friends. I suppose I'm a capitalist at heart. Or maybe I'm just a material girl (hey, that's catchy-- I should write a song about that).

Despite the whole puny paycheck thing, it seems like I've been getting (or will be getting) lots of new stuff lately. I was recently treated to a manicure & pedicure-- a huge luxury. I purchased some amazing new makeup with a gift card (and every time I look at that pretty little bottle, it makes my heart soar). Tomorrow, I get an extra special treat of buying a super fancy new cell phone with some of our tax return money. We are even looking into getting a new car, and the excitement of getting to test drive so many pretty things, and smell all that new car smell is just almost too much for me!

The down side to all of this is that I have been reading this book called The Irresistible Revolution... and it's such a buzz kill. It's all about our responsibility as Christians to take care of the poor, to live simply, and to be (as he puts it) an "ordinary radical".

Now, if you know me at all, you would probably think that this book would be right up my alley. I mean, these are supposed to be principles that I'm all about-- principles that I get me fired up, and make me bang my fist against the table and get all teared up over.

The problem is that this guy, this Shane Claiborne freak, is way, way too radical for me. He's just over the top. He says things like "When Jesus tells us to sell our possessions and give them to the poor, he wants us to sell our possessions and give them to the poor." Freak. Where does he come up with stuff like this?

On Saturday, while we were enjoying the incredible warmth & sunshine, I was laying in the park, reading his stupid book. He said that in Matthew 25, when Jesus said "I was a stranger & you invited me in" he did not mean that we should write a check to the local homeless shelter and leave our spare bedrooms empty. He meant that we should actually invite people into our homes (whew, good thing we don't have a spare bedroom!). It was very challenging.

I was wrestling through these thoughts Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church. As I looked in the mirror, doing my hair, a homeless man stopped his cart outside the bathroom window & began rearranging his items. I was in a foul mood, and I was late for church, and it was so hard for me to straighten my hair & rush off to church while watching this homeless man carefully organize his treasures right in my line of vision.

You're probably waiting for the beautiful part of the story where I put down my flat iron and offered this homeless man some breakfast. Well, I didn't. What I did do was skip that church service (thank God for the noon service), and go for a walk with Chris while I processed through my foul mood and these deep thoughts.

"We don't know any poor people" I mused when we got to the park. "I think our first step should be getting to know some poor people. We can't help the poor if we don't know them."

At that very moment, a clumsy pit bull puppy rambled up and tackled Gavin. A thuggish 16 year old kid followed behind, and we struck up a conversation about his pit bull, Mafiosa. His English was broken, and I struggled to follow as he showed me pictures on his cell phone of Mafiosa's father, the biggest, scariest dog I have ever seen in my life (I almost wet myself just looking at his cell phone). But despite his puppy's heritage, this kid was really sweet-- I mean, I really great kid.

A half an hour later, as we were walking home, I smiled to myself, thinking, "Maybe this won't be as hard as I thought." Step One: Talk to a sweet teenage thug. It's a good place to start.

From there, maybe I can start slowly letting go of those little things-- the things that come in shiny new packages-- and work on some of the nutty, "radical" principles I keep reading in this book.

Malnourished [An Allegory]

I have a friend who is allergic to gluten. She spent her whole life constantly feeling sick, and only recently did she discover that the reason why was that she was poisoning her body with bread, pasta, and other "simple" foods that most people eat when they feel sick.

The doctor who discovered her allergy told her that, despite the fact that she didn't look anything like a concentration camp victim, she was actually malnourished-- practically starving to death because her body wasn't processing any of the nutrients she was putting into it. So, although she was eating & absorbing calories and feeling full, her body was wasting away because it wasn't getting what it really needed.

I tell this little story because I had a realization last week-- not about physical nourishment, but something a little harder to detect.

What I realized was that I am relationally malnourished.

I'll explain: Although Chris & I have many friends & acquaintances in San Francisco, we actually have few to no deep relationships-- the kind of people you would call up when you're crying or hang out with in your PJ's, or invite over even when your house is a mess.

I came to this discovery slowly over the last 2-3 weeks, as I was traveling all over God's Green Earth (Austin, San Diego, Pasadena, etc, etc) and connecting with all sorts of new people. I realized that during the 3 weeks I spent traveling, I had more deep, intimate connections and conversations with new friends than I have had in my 3 years of living in San Francisco.

[Correction: A huge chunk of my job is sitting & having deep, intimate conversations, both with students and with our staff team. I love that part of my job. I would have whithered up & died without that part of my job. But, there is something very different about connecting deeply with people because it's your job and connecting deeply with people because, well, you just connect.]

Over that last 3 weeks, I met some really great women. I had tons of fun getting to know them, laughing with them, having deep & personal conversations, and connecting in real & genuine ways. And as I did that, something ached inside. It's like something woke up inside me that had been silently hungry for a long time.

The strange part about all of this, though, was that when I got home, I didn't rush off to form deep friendships. It was actually the opposite. We had several opportunities to hang out this week-- opportunities we passed up because we were just so exhausted from all the traveling, all the extroverted people-time, all the intense conversations with students and all the "pouring out" that we do all week. I just couldn't make myself be social.

I realize that this sounds very bleak and depressing... maybe even a little martyr-ish. I don't mean it to be that way at all. Mostly, this is a problem I am trying to work out in my head-- like one of those awful math problems about how long it will take a train to reach its destination if it goes X miles an hour and has Y number of miles to travel.

I'm trying to figure out why it is so difficult to make friends here-- why people feel so closed off in the City, and why I myself can even feel that wall around me. Why is it so difficult to form relationships here, and how do I find the energy to do so when I am so drained by the end of the week?

I really am hungry for friendships & intimacy, but-- like my friend's strange allergy-- it seems like something is keeping me from taking it in.

I am hopeful, though. I really do believe that it is possible to find those relationships here... and maybe even help to cultivate a place where true community can take place. I hope & pray that I can be a part of developing that-- or at least getting in on someone else's great invention. In the mean time, I thank God that I have Chris-- and those beautiful, deep interactions with students a decade younger than me, that truly give me meaning & fulfillment.

Ugliness

I'm feeling a little cranky right now. It's nothing big-- mostly it's just my blood sugar being low, and having too many things on my "To Do" list. We leave tomorrow for Austin (which I am looking forward to), thus commencing our insane month of traveling, where I anticipate many mornings of waking up & not knowing where I am.

Instead of chipping away at that incredibly important "To Do" list, or even blogging about something meaningful (which I would love to do, but don't have the time or capacity for at the moment), I feel like complaining.

Either something a) is wrong with our mirror, b) something is wrong with my eyes/brain, or c) I am starting to resemble the creepy psychopathic killer in No Country for Old Men. Twice today, I have looked in the mirror at my outgrown hair (that I hate & feel like complaining about) & my tired eyes, and have seen Scary Psychopathic Killer looking back at me (seriously, I look just like him right now). Not good.

Hopefully it's just my mirror, and hopefully I won't start carrying around an air compressor (if you haven't seen the movie, that won't make any sense), but even more, I hope that I will make it through today feeling a little better than I am right now. I really want to keep a positive attitude. I really want to live each moment in a way that is balanced, peaceful & "at home" in Jesus.

I want goodness & patience & strength to flow out of me-- not shallow complaints about my appearance. Unfortunately, the truth is that I have both the good (the balanced, peaceful person) and the bad (the one that complains about the little things) living in me. On the inside, I probably resemble Gollum (& Smeagol) more than the scary dude from No Country for Old Men. I hate when the ugliness creeps out-- when I snap or speak with sarcasm or criticism.

Lately, I have been feeling such a deep sense of my need for God-- of who I really am when I'm worn out & the filters come off. It makes me want to cling tighter to Him, and I suppose that, in the end, that's a good thing.

My Cup Runneth Over

In the Bible, the phrase "My cup runneth over" sounds so nice and lovely & spiritual. In real life, everyday terms, it sounds like I spilled my coffee.

Life, right now, feels a little like both.

We are insanely busy. I realize that sometimes people talk about how busy they are in a way that is close to bragging-- as though busyness implies worth or importance. I am not one of those people. I love free time, sleeping in, reading books on the couch, etc, etc. That it not to say that I am unhappy (that's where the "cup runneth over" part comes in), just to say that sometimes, when you have too many good things in your cup, you spill your drink.

I have been "spilling" in little drips & messes all over the Bay Area lately-- trying to squeeze in far too many activities & not accounting for travel time, or my capacity for human interaction. Although life is full to the point of spilling, my heart also feels full to overflowing sometimes, and that is a good thing.

Sadly, though, I am aware that I cannot keep up this pace for long before I end up throwing the cup against the wall. I need to learn what to cut out, what to organize more efficiently, and how to take deep breaths and keep pushing through.

Somehow, it's been working so far.

Autobiography

Just a little update on my autobiography assignment: After blogging, journaling, thinking, musing, and even (I confess) a little crying, I came up with my "story". I have to say, it was really hard work, and I had to dig really deep. I was surprised to find how difficult it was to write a story about myself from someone else's point of view that was good, affirming & positive.

Without really realizing it, I borrowed from John Steinbeck's style of writing. Every now & then, he will interrupt his story with a 1-2 page chapter that kind of pans back from his characters and speaks about life or truth or courage. Although those chapters may not directly mention his characters, they are about the story they are telling, and are the voice of the narrator telling his audience of some deeper meaning of life. The story that I wrote was not about the details of my life, but about the inner story that was being told along the way.

I read it on Wednesday (with a slightly shaky voice-- it was so personal!), and got some really encouraging feedback. It was wonderful hearing everyone else's stories, too. What a beautiful assignment, and how healthy & even therapeutic it is to write about your own life. I think you should give it a try. Go ahead-- right now, think about what you would write...


ps. If you would like to read it, let me know & I will email it to you-- it's a little long for a blog!

pps. My next task (which was self-appointed) is to write the story of my life-- or what my life would have been-- if I had never known God. I have always been a little envious of those people who had amazing stories of life changing conversion. I realized, though, that I still have a story like that-- God just rescued me from it before it happened. I think it will cause a lot of gratitude to grow inside.

Dangerous Minds

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Dangerous thinking. The kind of thinking that I just know, five years down the road, will find me in prison. I know, you're scared-- I'll explain. The thoughts that keep running through my mind almost seem like they are planted there by some outside force: whispered to me as I sleep, or injected into my mind as I read or walk around our neighborhood. The thing is, I'm pretty sure these thoughts, these ideas, emotions & tugging on my heart strings aren't coming from me, they're coming from God. And if you've ever had crazy thoughts that you're pretty sure are coming from God, you know they are the most dangerous kind.

When I say this kind of thinking will land me in prison, I don't mean doing hard time for drug dealing (all though we sure could use the cash), I'm thinking more along the lines of prison visits. I mean getting to know the thugs in our neighborhoods, hanging out with the teenagers on parole staying at the ministry house nearby, and working with glue sticks & pipe cleaners at after-school tutoring centers.

Back in the day-- a hundred years ago, when I was a bright eyed, idealistic college student-- I had this very strong passion to save the inner city. Okay, I knew I wasn't actually going to save it, but I was really very serious about moving into the hood, loving some inner city kids, and bringing hope & restoration to their lives. I saw myself growing old, sitting on my front porch in Compton, with homemade cookies for all the neighborhood kids, and knowing them all by name.

So I graduated, moved to Compton (technically Lynwood, nestled between Compton & Watts), and stuck it out for 4 fairly miserable years of feeling like a failure, but not willing to admit defeat. When Chris rescued me & whisked me away to San Francisco, my dreams of the inner city were a little fuzzier, and it took me a little over 2 years before I realized that my little candle of passion had burned out somewhere along the way.

But then, sometime around Christmastime, those crazy, dangerous thoughts started coming into my mind. Honestly, they sprouted their little heads when Chris & I were thinking about quitting and leaving this whole Campus Crusade thing. Everything is changing, and it turns out that Chris & I will be the only ones left in San Francisco from our little Band of Brothers. Realizing that significant change in our lives (and our jobs) was a huge loss... but somehow, alongside it, came this little bud of hope & courage & vision that I haven't felt for a while.

It looks like in the Fall, we will be our own bosses, and will have the freedom to dream & experiment & do whatever we want. The big question, of course is "What do we want?" The more I dream & think & explore, the more I return to those desires from back in college-- but with less idealistic passion and a little more cautiousness and healthy respect, knowing just what a move like that could cost.

The beautiful think is that we don't have to move. We can stay here in the neighborhood we love-- we would just start living differently, spending our time differently, and giving of ourselves more freely.

I actually spent two days this week-- one of them being a Saturday!!-- out in Oakland listening to talks & seminars on inner city ministry. It's been a long time since I have surrounded myself with people like the ones at these seminars. These are the kind of people who are risking and giving more than I have even thought of risking or giving for a long time. It was inspiring & challenging, and made my heart beat a little faster in fear, anticipation and the excitement of what could be. And it just felt right. Although I felt out of place, it was strangely like coming home, too.

I don't know where these crazy thoughts will lead me, or what life will look like a year from now, but somehow it seems like my feet are on a path they are supposed to be on.

Writer's Block

I dragged Chris into this Creativity Workshop every Wednesday with this very post-modern emergent church group nearby. They do really great stuff, and (despite the fact that I was exhausted when I went last week) I enjoyed our first meeting.

Last week, we were given a bunch of random objects and were told to make something creative with them. Chris came up with a little man with a parachute. Keoke made a gas mask. Another girl made a crown. Mine was a little hard to describe, but it was rich with very personal meaning and I was bummed when I had to share with the entire group about it.

It's not that I am a private person, or that I hate talking in front of groups. Part of the discomfort was that this little group of Christians is really cool, in a way that I can never hope to be cool. They're Beat Poet cool. They are actual artists & musicians. They shop at thrift stores and have dreadlocks and don't bathe regularly because-- well because they don't have to. They're that cool.

I hate to paint them in the wrong light. They are very sincere, loving people. They love God in ways that challenge me, and they love each other generously. They just intimidate me ever so slightly. I think it's because I have always wanted to be artistic and edgy, but despite my nose ring & tattoo & red funky hair, I still shop at the Gap, and the extent of my artistic creativity lies in a blog and a few mediocre necklaces I've made.

Anyways, I digress. Our assignment for this week is to write a 1-2 page vignette about our lives in the third person. I think the idea is that when we take a step back and look at ourselves as an outsider or a narrator, we take off those harsh, self-critical lenses, and we can see our lives as a story that is good & full of meaning.

At first, I thought this would be great. I am much better at writing stories than at making creations out of cloth & plastic. But now I'm stuck.

I know that I have great stories to tell-- and I love telling them. The story of God bringing Chris & me together is amazing. I loved telling the story a few weeks ago about our old house and the meaning it had in my childhood. There's the story of me moving to the inner city, and getting chewed up & spit out, and learning to believe in myself again. There are so many things to tell.

I'm realizing that the hardest part for me is that (in my mind) all good stories are circular. They are the kind of story with a good ending that brings you right back to where you started, and tell you something about life, or show you how the character has arrived at some conclusion or reached a destination.

But I am not that character. I am still working on the ending-- so how can I write one? I am torn between wanting to write a story about the fairy princess who overcomes great obstacles and finds happiness at the end, or writing about myself like Nicholas Cage in Adaptation ("He sits down to write again: fat, pathetic, balding...").

I know that most characters are complex-- both a hero and a coward-- and that the good stories explore those complexities. But for some reason, it is so, so hard to do when writing about oneself. Especially when one is sharing it in front of thirty cool, hip, artistic types-- who probably wrote their stories in iambic pentameter.

I need your help, friends. What should I write about??

Yuletide Cheer

Yesterday was a truly wonderful Christmassy day. I mean, the kind of great day that makes me giddy & happy inside (that might have had something to do with the fact that I ended the evening with a margarita, but I'm not sure!)

I met my mom early at Nordstrom Rack for some Christmas shopping, and everything was strangely deserted. The shoppers that were there were all chatting with each other, admiring one another's finds, and telling stories. It was strange. No eye gouging, no pushing, no fighting for parking spots-- just peace, joy, and really great sales.

When lunch rolled around, I hadn't had quite enough yet, so we crossed the street to South Cost Plaza, and wandered for a few hours looking at things we didn't need, checking out Santa Claus, and (the best part!) listening to carolers. The mall had hired 4 carolers to wander around and sing to shoppers, and my mom & I were shameless stalkers. Call me crazy, but I truly had a worshipful moment in the mall, listening to Oh Holy Night! being sung by 4 college students dressed in Charles Dickens era costumes.

We ended with a Moroccan Mint Latte, sipping & chatting & people watching. I even felt relaxed and cheery as I sat in Friday rush-hour traffic for the 1 1/2 hours it took me to get home. There is something peaceful about sitting in a car in stop-and-go without anything to worry about (not even putting your foot on the gas peddle).

The other day, someone said, "I remember when Christmas used to be fun." It broke my heart to hear her say that. When I asked, she said that she supposed it was all the stress of shopping that took the fun out of it.

Thankfully, I happen to love Christmas shopping-- buying gifts for other people, and thinking of what will make them happy, or what fun extra thing you can add to their life. And I love all the decorations and seeing Santa at the mall-- even if it is just a ploy to get you to spend money. I love driving around the suburbs and seeing all the elaborate (and sometimes gaudy) displays on the front lawn, and walking around in the City, and seeing the high-rises lined with Christmas lights. I love Christmas music & Christmas movies... it all just gives me those warm fuzzy feelings the commercials tell you you're supposed to have. But it's not because I got some diamond necklace from my husband, or anything (like in the commercials), but something deeper and more subtle.

I have been thinking a lot about gratitude since finding out that we are going to Africa. Did you know that in a refugee camp there, there are some people who can't afford doors on their huts, and every night they live under the fear of being raped by the soldiers who should be protecting them?

I don't say this to be a downer, but because I have never thought about being thankful for a door. As I wandered around yesterday, looking at all the pretty things that I don't need, but that God has given me the chance to enjoy, I felt very, very grateful. Not guilty, or greedy-- just so grateful for what I have. It was a good day.

What Did I Get Myself Into??!

I just got off the phone with my new friend, Brodie-- the girl Chris & I will be leading our trip to Uganda with-- and I am a little shaky right now.


Remember all those things I was a little afraid about? Bugs, primitive living situations, running water, electricity?? Yeah, we'll get everything you could want out of a great African Adventure.


Here's some of those details I was missing:

• We will be staying in an "Internally Displaced People's" camp-- a refugee camp for Ugandans who have fled their villages to escape rebel forces in Northern Uganda-- 16K from Gulu, the city highlighted in the film Invisible Children.

• By the time we get there, there may be a volunteer housing facility set up by the ministry... or we might be staying in tents, with no running water or electricity for 4 weeks.

• If we really live luxuriously, we would stay in "guest houses" in Gulu, which have no hot water, and only sometimes have electricity. But that would really be living large.

• We will be working at one of the best medical clinics in the region (meaning they have medicine), and also with a rehab center (same site). The rehab center now has 15 women, and their 22 children. These "women" were girls abducted by rebel forces & raped. We'll be helping to rehabilitate them.

• The Ugandan government and the rebel forces are in peace talks right now. There has been no rebel activity in Northern Uganda for 20 months-- but there are Ugandan soldiers at our site for protection, just in case. Brodie said she felt safe when she was there.

• We will be bringing about 20 students with us-- mostly from Brown University, and some of our own (hopefully)

Okay, that's all I can take in now. I am literally shaking at the thought of living all of this out. Part of me says "This is the best thing you could ever do with your life", and part of me screams, "How in the world are you going to survive this??! You wear makeup when you're camping!"

The one thing I feel confident about is that God wants us to be there. And that Chris will be with me. Wheeew. Deep breaths.

Uganda, Here We Come

Well, I have stopped holding my breath for one "unanswered prayer": We are going to Uganda!

Chris & I had decided that we would wait until Friday to hear back about Uganda, and then after that, we would let it go & pursue other options for our summer. Really, I had already let it go in my heart and was resolved that it wasn't meant to be.

But then, on Friday afternoon, my phone rang. Uganda is a Go.

Apparently there were a lot of details that needed to get sorted through before we could get the final Yes (we knew nothing about those decisions!), but all is sorted, and we got a big green light. I can't quite wrap my mind around it yet, and I had to keep repeating to myself all day "We're going to Uganda this summer."

Part of the reason it's so hard to comprehend is that we know so little about our trip. Someone else has already started planning it (a Campus Crusade staff girl on the East Coast, who we will be leading with), and we have gotten almost no details.

Here's what I do know:

• We will be working with an organization called Child Voice International, working to rehabilitate child soldiers
• We will be bringing a team of students, mostly from Brown University (an Ivy League school in Rhode Island). Some will be Christians, and some won't.
• We'll be there about 6 weeks
• God still answers prayers
  

Waiting is the Name of the Game

One can only hold their breath for so long before they turn blue. I haven't quite reached "blue" yet, but it seems like there are a lot of prayers lingering out there in space, waiting to be answered.

Dad: My Dad finally talked to the doctor today about his biopsy. He said that there was a lot of cancer in there, but that he hopes he got it all. There was some indication that the cancer might have spread to an artery, but we won't know for another 2-3 months (when they do follow-up tests). Until then, we just wait & hope he won't have to go through radiation.

Money: Some [wonderful, incredible] friends of ours hosted a fund raising dessert for us last night. Of the 50+ "Yes and Maybe's" on the Evite, about 15 showed up, and one committed to giving ($15 a month). Now, I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I was so humbled & thankful last night for the love we felt at the dessert-- but I have to confess that I was a little disappointed this morning when I thought about how we lost money on a fund raiser. We were able to cover rent this month, but now we have to move on to Plan B in order to get the financial support we need.

Uganda: Still no word on whether or not we are going to Uganda this summer. We were supposed to hear the final decision by Thanksgiving-- but then they found "a few more options" that they wanted to look into before telling us Yes. Monday was supposed to be the next deadline, but still no answer. I don't mind so much being the last choice, I'm just eager to hear a decision one way or another!

Ministry: Back in October, we found out that our beloved director would be leaving our team, and that the scary, faceless "National Leaders" were restructuring the whole ministry. Now, we don't exactly know what that means, except that everything is about the change-- for better or for worse (and so far, I fear for the worst). Time will tell (sooner rather than later, likely), and I wonder if we will still be here when the dust settles.


Now, none of these "prayers" have ended tragically yet. Some are big & life-changing, and some are big at the moment, but will pass. They all, however, feel big, and I find myself waiting for one or all of them to fall on my head at any moment.

I'm working on trusting God's goodness lately. For some reason, that's been really tough for me, and I've found myself very fearful-- that everything is going to fall apart, that God will leave me again, that He won't take care of us, that He doesn't love me anymore, or that He can't be trusted...

I started reading Disappointment With God by Philip Yancey today-- I read 83 pages in one sitting!-- and I can feel my heart opening towards Him a little. I want to trust that each of these "prayers" will work out-- one way or another. More than that, I want to trust that God is good, and that He loves me, even if things don't work out the way I hoped.
I'm still pushing through...

Dad

I have been so very grateful for all the times people have told me that they are praying for my Dad, or have asked about his health. I always pass the thoughtful concerns on to him, and he has just been overwhelmed by all the love he has received. Just last night, he told me that my brother's ex-girlfriend, as well as an old Jeep racing buddy (one of the rougher, gruffer, uncouth individuals you will ever meet) planned on coming by to wish him well. Now that's being loved.

I have been waiting to send out an update until all the news was in, but I'm not sure when that will be. For now, here's the scoop: He had surgery the day after Thanksgiving. It went well, and the doctor felt that he got most of the cancer. We are waiting on the biopsy results to see if the cancer has spread, and if he will need to go on to radiation & chemotherapy.

He was supposed to get the results back on Friday, but the doctor couldn't make it to the appointment. The nurse told him that everything looked okay, but that there was a slight "glitch". Not to worry, she said-- she was sure everything would be fine. After a few questions, he learned that a "glitch" probably means the cancer has spread a little. It might mean radiation. It might mean a million things that one's brain can dwell on for ages. We just don't know until the doctor calls back. Grrrr. I hate glitches.

For now, though, he is at home, recovering well, and in good spirits. He plans on taking a walk today-- a pretty huge accomplishment for everything he's been through!

Keep praying! We really hope that this can be the end of the cancer scare, and that he won't have to go through chemo & radiation-- especially at that nasty hospital in Hollywood where he had his surgery. Maybe sometime I'll blog about Kaiser and my Dad's homeless, belligerent, painfully smelly roommate (this coming from someone who likes homeless people!), or the elderly woman they released from the hospital into the streets of Hollywood without notifying her family... but for now, I think I'll focus on the positive! =)

Keep praying!

The Pursuit of Thankfulness

Chris & I watched The Pursuit of Happyness with some friends on Friday, and I have been thinking about it ever since. I have seen it several times (in fact, we own it), and I just love that there is a sweet-but-not-sappy [true] story out there of a father who is devoted to his son-- who is honest and loving and affectionate, and who sacrifices everything he has to follow a dream & provide for his boy. It's beautiful.

But that's not why I have been thinking about it.

I have been thinking about it because we're broke. At least, we think we're broke. Our cars are definitely "broke".

Our paychecks have been short (like Danny DeVito short), and we are going to have to take some time off from our campuses and work on fund-raising again. Both of our cars are in need of various degrees of repair (we can't drive one of them right now), and we have already shelled out hundreds of dollars on repairing them in the last month. It's a bummer.

It's easy to look around at the lives that my friends lead and feel sorry for myself. They go out to dinner, and buy new clothes for themselves, and go on vacation, and drink wine that's not Two Buck Chuck... Chris told me a few days ago that we couldn't buy groceries for the rest of the month. I was shocked & frightnened-- and then I realized that "the rest of the month" meant Thursday!

When I watched The Pursuit of Happyness, I realized just how much we have. It's ridiculous to feel sorry for myself. I am well fed (a little too well fed lately!), I get plenty of sleep at night (again, a little too much lately!). We have an incredibly comfortable, warm bed to sleep in at night, and we never have to wonder if it will be there for us when we get home. We have family & friends who love us, and we would never, never have to end up on the streets. We have beautiful things-- furniture, and clothes, and "toys", and a kitchen full of stuff. In fact, our little apartment can barely hold all of our junk. I think that's a pretty good sign that we have too much!

I could go on & on listing the things in my life that I can be grateful for. I probably should. I think that gratitude is the key to happiness & contentment. It is something I need to develop more of.

Thoughts on Africa

Chris & I have an interesting decision before us. We have been dreaming of going to Uganda for over a year now. Our hope & plan was to lead a group of college students to Uganda this coming summer to work with a ministry that rehabilitates child soldiers.

Last year, it seemed like God was opening all kinds of opportunities for Uganda, and it seemed like everywhere we went, we met someone who was from Uganda, had lived there or was going there. It was amazing. We even met a student, named Wadri, at one of Chris' campuses who himself had been a child soldier in Uganda. As we got to know him, we talked about his dreams to restore his country, and had big hopes of joining with him. I truly believe he could have been the president someday-- his energy & charisma were so compelling.

It's difficult to even write this down like a story, but shortly after meeting Wadri, he died mysteriously in his car of heat exhaustion. Chris & I found ourselves one Friday evening last Spring at a funeral home filled with Ugandan immigrants, listening to them memorialize Wadri. After that, things started to slow down with the whole process.

Fast forward to 2 weeks ago...
We have been talking with The Powers That Be in our company about leading a summer project to Uganda, and things were looking good. But then, 2 weeks ago, everything changed. They said our region would not be going to Uganda this summer. We were offered to lead a trip to Johannesburg, South Africa, where we would be working with college students & leading AIDS awareness classes. Very cool, and interesting-- but not what we were dreaming of. It looked like the doors to Uganda were closing, and I have been mourning that loss for the last 2 weeks. Although it seems strange or even silly to mourn something I never had, it was a dream over a year in the making, and something I felt so deeply connected to.

But the story took another turn on Friday when we found out there there is still a chance we might be able to go. It's a small chance, and it hasn't been given approval by any means, but it has gotten my heart beating fast again.

There is a ministry called Child Voice International that rehabilitates child soldiers, and they are working on a special project to "construct a center in northern Uganda where children affected by war can live in a supportive community until they are emotionally, spiritually, and physically restored; educated; trained in a profession; and prepared to earn a living." Just reading about it makes my heart ache and my eyes tear up.

Unfortunately, when I think about the South Africa trip, I feel nothing. Maybe it's because my first introduction to the idea left a bad taste in my mouth. There were some miscommunications, some hurt feelings, and some big frustrations at the time, which have all been cleared up. I wonder, though, if I just have attitude about it now, or if this simply isn't the right project for us.

We have a few weeks to get things worked out. It seems like if we can organize some contacts in Uganda fast enough, we might be given the Green Light from the Higher-Up's. It's a long shot, but my feelings run so deep that I've at least got to try.

I guess if it doesn't work out, we'll go from there...

Worn

I feel empty. I think all the events of the last week have started sinking in, and I am realizing that I feel like I don't have much to give. I would much rather hide behind my laptop & answer emails than actually meet with students, have conversations, and give of myself emotionally. Thankfully, I have had the freedom to do that today, and have taken full advantage of it. =)

I met with a friend today for lunch, and we shared about our lives & our relationships with God, and we prayed for each other. We are going to try to meet every week (or so), and I can't even begin to say what a God-send that is.

When I came home, I realized that (outside of ministry) that was the first time I have met with a friend like that since I moved to San Francisco. Saying that felt very profound.

I mean, we have hung out with friends (as couples) since we've moved here, and I have had deep conversations with friends from home and in ministry, but this was the first time that I have ever sat down with a friend from San Francisco and gone deep with each other. It felt very profound, and very right, and yet also so sad. As I shared with her, I felt how deeply I needed someone to just listen-- someone to minister to me. I hadn't realized how much I was aching for it.

I admit, I am feeling rather emotional tonight as I type away, and I'm not sure how much to attribute to low blood sugar, or hormones, or all of the impending changes & disappointments. It's probably a little of each. I do know that I plan to lay low this week, spend as much time connecting with Chris as possible, and taking time to process my feelings. I think I need a little time to take inventory, and take care of myself... Wish me luck =)

Tropical Depression Kernaghan

It's been a long week. I feel like, lately, I have been living through a bit of a hurricane inside. Circumstances have kept me pretty busy, but it's more than just that. There is a difference between walking forward ten feet on solid ground, and walking forward ten feet in shoulder-deep water. Either way, you're only walking ten feet, but your surroundings make the task significantly easier or harder.

These last few weeks, I have been going onto campus, meeting with students, praying, sending emails, tutoring, talking on the phone, making fliers, and organizing events. All these things are normal, and don't sound very difficult or stressful-- unless you're under water.

And I have felt under water lately. Some mornings this week, it felt like I was in the middle of a hurricane. Some moments, it was only a tropical storm, some moments, a tropical depression, and right now, it is currently [physically] softly raining outside my window-- which reflects my reality inside, too.

There have been moments this week where I have felt completely overwhelmed with emotions, with self-doubt, with negative thoughts, fear, discouragement & lack of motivation. I believe very much in God, and also believe very much in an Enemy who does not sit around in red tights with a pitch fork, but who comes after us in our thoughts, in our relationships-- in any way he can. Each time I have felt this overwhelming weight, I have done my best to pray (or asked someone else-- usually Chris-- to pray for me), and almost every time, it has gone away. But eventually, it comes back.

I could go into details: details about why my week has been hard and emotional; details about my Dad not being healed of cancer [If I was a good Christian, I would say "yet"]. Details about my funk & disappointments on campus, or about our paychecks being only $300. But I don't feel like details.

This morning, I learned something that will be fairly significant to my life, my job, my career path, and even where I call home (and No, Mom, I'm not pregnant!) ;) As the thoughts & questions swirled around in my head, I looked outside at the rain, and felt it a little in my heart & my soul. I need to process and to think & reflect, but Chris had to go immediately out to campus (poor thing), and I am here, alone with my laptop (and the sleeping pit bull pup).

I feel surprisingly calm, though. I am at peace-- although I don't feel like I have much capacity to pray or to work, or do much of anything. I feel like curling up on the couch, turning on the "fireplace" DVD, and reading a book. Watching a mindless chick flick & painting my nails sounds nice, too. I don't anticipate that these difficult feelings, questions or circumstances will go away on their own. For now, though, I can take a deep breath, hear the rain falling outside, and know that I am safe and dry in here.

Staying Afloat

Right now, I feel like I'm having a hard time staying afloat. I've been trying lately to live in a place that embraces both the hard things and the good things-- not being overwhelmed with the hard, but not trying to push them out of the way and pretend they aren't there, either. I have been meditating on Jesus' words (in The Message translation) "Make your home in me as I make my home in you." As things get stressful, or start to feel overwhelming, I try to center myself and find a home in Christ, and just feel at peace with where I am.
It feels different from just "pushing through", and dealing with my emotions when I have time. I have an image in my mind of holding sadness and joy and peace all together, and embracing them all as the stuff life is made of.

Yesterday, I was really struggling in this department. I was rushing out the door to get to Cal State East Bay-- one of my main campuses about 45 minutes away that was having their big club fair. My plan was to make a 5 minute stop at Kinkos, run a few photo copies, then get to campus & the club fair by 11am-- a half hour earlier than I needed to be there. I won't go into details (they just make me angry!), but it took 2 hours and 15 minutes for me to actually walk onto the campus. Let's just say that although it's listed as a Kinkos, a FedEx-Kinkos Shipping Center is not quite a Kinkos. It took me over 1/2 hour to make 40 copies on a self-serve copy machine. It also took me 45 minutes to find a parking spot on campus. Yuck.

The brilliant ending to my club fair was when I was talking to a thug-looking kid with gold chains galore, and my shirt broke. Yes, my shirt broke. I was wearing a stretchy tunic shirt with thick tank top straps, and one of the straps just broke while I was telling this guy about when we meet for prayer. I was so stunned, I just kept talking & pretended that everything was fine until he walked away. Luckily, we carry some cute little button pins (pictured right) in our tabling box, and my friend was able to fix my shirt, but it was one of the more awkward campus experiences (and I've had a few!)

I have to admit, I am living in fear that more great things will happen on campus (lots of great things have already been happening-- and no, my shirt breaking was not one of them, whatever thug-guy might tell you!), because I won't be able to handle the work it will create!

I am definitely looking forward to the weekend (although not with quite as much desperation as I was last week), and taking lots of deep centering breaths. But as I go to sleep tonight, I feel much more at peace than I did earlier. I think I'm going to make it...

Running on Empty

It seems like weeks since I've blogged. I am realizing that blogging is a nice creative outlet, but that it's hard to "outlet" when you're drained (there's nothing really pushing to get out when you're running on E). It's been a loooong week (maybe more-- I can't even really remember normalcy!)
I wish I could put into words why it has been so crazy.

Our Quarter-Schools are starting (Semester schools started weeks ago), and the first week of classes means driving out to campus every day (this particular campus is an hour away), dragging 100lbs of boxes and tables out to the Student Union, setting up a table with banners and fliers and goodies, and talking to students all day.

See what I mean-- putting it into words makes it sound like a nice day out of the office. But there is something incredibly draining about doing all of that. It's really an emotional & spiritual drain (although it's fun, it's very tiring). Add on top of that 5 hours in 95 degree heat, a sunburn, and possibly even a little heat stroke (I almost passed out at Target on the way home-- weird!). After coming home from tabling, one has to sort through all the contacts, print out fliers, arrange for activities the next day, buy more supplies, order food, and make a trip to Kinkos. Most evenings I was done by 10, 11 and even 12 at night!

Wednesday was our 3-year Wedding Anniversary. Chris & I were so exhausted that night that we canceled our reservations at the fancy restaurant, dragged ourselves to the nearest strip mall (Daly City) and enjoyed a romantic evening of Daphne's. The most pathetic part was that neither of us minded that we were having such a pathetic anniversary! Afterwards, we drove down to Pacifica and walked along the bright, moonlit beach, watching Gavin chase the waves.

Now that Saturday has rolled around, I feel much refreshed. It's been a wonderful day so far (more on that later), and I finally have the energy to "outlet". =)

A Stingy Sodomite

Part of my job is to be a champion for the poor.

I am supposed to provide opportunities for our college students to serve in the community, and to encourage & motivate students & staff towards compassion.

The other night, I was having this great conversation with this guy who is doing inner city ministry in East Palo Alto, and everything he was saying was right on-- exactly the kind of thing I would want our students to be involved in. But as I was listening to him and "Amen-ing" his efforts and telling him how passionate I was about ministering to the poor, there was a little pit in my stomach that didn't ring true-- not for him, but for me. I was lying.

I've been thinking about it throughout the weekend, and I realized that somewhere along the road, my mouth kept talking, but my heart wasn't following. I've been sensing it for a while, and wondering, Why am I not excited about getting out there anymore? Why is it such a chore to even think about planning service projects? I thought this was supposed to be my thing.

As I reflected on these thoughts this morning, I felt a stinginess in my heart. I don't want to give up the things that I love. I don't want to get my hands dirty. I like college students-- they're so clean (comparatively!) and easy to work with, and it's so easy to shut off at the end of the day.

I give this talk often on God's Heart for the Poor. I always start with this startling comment "I am a Sodomite." After a few moments of silence and shocked & confused looks, I go on to explain that often the sinful city of Sodom is associated with homosexuality. In Ezekiel (16:49), however, it says that Sodom's sin (the reason God destroyed it) is that "She an her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." Then I explain that it is so easy to be overfed-- caught up with what we have-- and unconcerned about the poor around us, but that God's heart is for the poor, and that we need to follow Him in that. It's a great talk... I just hate living it out.

What do you do when you've fallen out of love? What do you do to re-create passion? My mind tells me Just go out there and do it, but nothing in me wants to-- especially out of obligation, or because its my job. I want to want it, but I don't. I'm comfortable. I like my things-- I don't want to give them up. I like my free time-- I don't want to loose it. I know what it takes-- it takes everything, and I only want to give what's comfortable.

God, please change my heart.

Foggy Day, Wonderful Night

Yesterday, I was in a sort of a fog all day. I am catching a cold (again!), and felt lethargic & sleepy all day. It didn't help that our worn out puppy (who I'm convinced has a cold, too) shivered in his bed all day with bloodshot eyes, and made the room feel even more sickly & sleepy. And because we had a "virtual staff meeting", I stayed in my PJ's until after lunch. All those factors add up to a drab sort of day where one never quite feels like they have accomplished anything.

I was supposed to go to a friend's for dinner, but canceled because of my cold (she has a newborn). As the evening rolled around, however, I started feeling a little better, and decided to go with Chris to a hang out with some of his SF State students at Starbucks. What really turned my day around was when Chris asked each of us to share a little bit about our stories-- our spiritual journeys-- and how we got to this place.

One student shared about how her life was "trash" when she arrived at college, until she met Chris, and began exploring faith. She talked about finding meaning & hope.
Another student from Taiwan shared about her spiritual journey, and how she now wants to go to Kenya & serve the poor there.
Still another student shared about living in Botswana, Ghana, Sri Lanka, Canada, and now San Francisco, and how the tsunami in Sri Lanka devastated her life. She found hope again on an inner city missions trip a few years ago that turned her life around and introduced her to a relationship with God.

All their stories were so beautiful, so different, and so meaningful. There was this sweet little moment where they were telling me how much they admired us for being "missionaries" and for sacrificing so much for God. I laughed and told them, "My job tonight was sitting in Starbucks & listening to how God changed your lives. I don't feel like I've sacrificed anything."

And even though my cold has definitely suffered from staying out late, I am so glad I had the privilege of hearing those students' stories, and that I get to do what I do.