a little friday good cheer

I just got to thinking that this world is hard, heavy and burdensome, and you know what? Sometimes we just need to laugh. Here are a few things that I find to be utterly hilarious:

-Will Ferrell as George Bush
-The Office (last night's marathon was awesome)
-When someone starts laughing and either snorts, cries or coughs because it's so funny
-Men who run in tank tops
-People who try to push or pull a door open the wrong way, then stare at it, perplexed as to why it won't obey
-Tiny dogs
-Children's jokes (Ask about my pirate joke. It's classic.)
-Umm...pirate jokes too

Deservedness

I've seen you walk unafraid
I've seen you in the clothes you've made
Can you see the beauty inside of me?
What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?

And I miss you when you're not around
I'm getting ready to leave the ground

- U2’s City of Blinding Lights

We all hunger to be known. There’s something uniquely human in this desire.

My friends and I have all been struggling with this in acute ways as of late. Feeling that no one truly knows us, sometimes we are left feeling vulnerable, unloved, undeserving, misunderstood, not valued.

I should mention that my friends and I are people committed to knowing Jesus and following his ways. But being a Christian does not exempt us from these feelings of loneliness. I used to think or hope that it did, but I’m finding now that perhaps it magnifies them.

I’m still mining through a rather pervasive feeling of grayness that swept over me in the middle of March. Life has largely returned to normal and I feel good again – loved well, validated, worthy, beautiful, even. But the unexpected hiccup reminded me that this world will always be cold. We will always feel misunderstood and dissatisfied for good reason - because we are made for so much more.

Our souls innately understand and respond to this. As Christians, we hold the truths of the world in our hearts through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, though our minds may be malleable, our hearts and souls will not be satisfied with this half foot-in, half foot-out sort of existence that our busybusyrushrush world advocates.

We will always long for the quiet, still spaces where God reveals Himself. We will always long for the revelation in those moments where we know our true identities – we are the beloved sons and daughters of a great King.

As with the best parental relationships, at the core we need not “be” anything more. Only with God, he made us so it would seem that He already is overjoyed that we exist. As the psalm says, “Because he delights in me, he saved me” (Psalm 18:19). Not “Because I have done so much good (or been so perfect or loved so many).” Not for any of the things we could ever do. Quite simply, because HE delights in it.

And so, with that simple truth taking root, I’m trying to keep daily life that simple too. I’m weeding out the excess crap that isn’t life-giving. All the while, slowing things down, I’m reminded that in these lonely times where we don’t know how to stop a war, feed a continent, or eradicate injustice, sometimes we have to step back and know that we’re loved.

Then maybe, just maybe, that love we feel and know to be our identity in Christ will overflow enough to start healing those bigger things.

After all, it only takes a spark…and the fire’s gotta start somewhere.

"For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”

- Wendell Berry

******

Cooking and chopping are holy work.

Standing over the waste bin,
weeding through chaff,
these modern, citified hands
touch the bounty of the earth,
blessing it with water,
storing and gathering for its full and intended use.

It is a very good thing to be a woman.

Ankles stand small and proud,
supporting these ever-expanding hips,
preparing for the fulfillment of
their future blessing.

The light hum
of this feminine heart
beats strong
as delicate hands
chopchopchop
singing a sweetly staccato song
in a tune older than time.

On reconnecting

New Ally, meet Ally circa 1999.

“Well my, my, you felt awfully insecure, didn't you. And you shouldn't be. Not with that sweet jean shirt. Still, trust me…it will get easier. Or you’ll care less. Or something like that.”

Sometimes it’s good to reintroduce our newest selves to our past lives.

Last night I had a long talk with a friend from college. It was refreshing to slip back into the same lingo, euphemisms and habits. When I talked about how much I’ve changed, he got it. When I mentioned my difficulties or weaknesses, he knew them well.

It felt like finding an old UNI sweatshirt of mine. Maybe it isn’t quite as new and novel (though I did look good in purple and gold). Maybe I don’t like a lot of the memories that come along with it. But damn, it’s sure nice that it is mine. It’s fantastic that it doesn’t need to be worn-in.

This season of lent has involved quite a bit of remembering. I’ve spent time recognizing that it’s ok to not progress at certain things – to remind myself that there are remnants of my past self that have always been worthwhile, kind and good.

I mean, growth is good and all, but how do you build a house, even a rickety one, if you don’t start with the foundation?

Food and fellowship

Meals have always had an unspoken sacredness to me.

By that, I don’t mean that my family approached them with a sort of “saintly” reverence. I mean, The Simpsons were frequently fighting in the background (much to the dismay of my Mom). Food was sampled off of other plates. We’d get up to answer the phone.

I’m sure much of my appreciation has to do with the fact I practically grew up in restaurants. My Mom comes from a restaurant family (my Grandpa started the Midwest franchise of Village Inn). All of my cousins, aunts & uncles have navigated serving platters through a packed restaurant during a rush. I dropped more than a few cups of ranch dressing on a customer once. After he’d finished eating and was on his way back to work. I wrote a note to his supervisor that apologized for his impending tardiness (due to a salad-dressing soaked uniform).

Outside of our professional travails (which is some ways makes you hate people who can’t appreciate all the effort put into a meal), there’s the unspoken marriage between big family meals and my Catholic upbringing. So many of these sacramental celebrations (communion, confirmation, weddings etc.) are treated with equal parts spiritual respect and familial reverie. We’d drive over to Lincoln (3 hours from Des Moines) basically to sit in church and then…eat. It was more or less accepted that any good meal took a few hours to prepare, so chip and veggie trays were in abundance. Grazing was key.

After years of attending these sacred feasts, I’m faced with an interesting scenario: How do I create them on my own without that family with who’s presence they are synonymous?

Now, my parents are 5 hours away. My brother is in the same town, but our schedules are opposite. My cousins and grandparents can’t “just get together” for birthdays when we’re separated by state lines. Although there is a new generation of great-grandchildren in the wings they are not ready for sacramental gatherings yet.

But community can be passed through blood lines or forged through who we choose to bleed with.

I find myself blessed with a new community to break bread with.

When I think about it too much, I’m flabbergasted by how perfect our imperfect allegiance has become.

We are family. Our laughter bubbles up out of joy. When a friend got a new job she so desperately needed and deserved, we confirmed her over dinner. We created a new sacrament to celebrate.

We know how to properly celebrate a birthday. We go to great places for dinner. (You know, those places where it’s better to not think about how much you’re gonna spend.) When we’re out we sit like hooligans at a country club. It reminds me of the Langston Hughes poem “We Real Cool.” I thought about that at Tasso’s a few weeks ago, “We real cool, we skip school, we lurk late…”

Sometimes when we go out like that, I feel like a 9 year old girl playing dress up – not quite out of place, but dreamy and content as time stands still around us.

These feasts are even more beautiful when they’re impromptu home gatherings.

Some of my happiest moments are when I get the urge to host a few friends for dinner. It becomes this beautiful ritual that blossoms out of a seemingly normal day: I’ll get up and grab coffee and steal off to the farmers market. Walking the rows of tomatoes, corn, strawberries and apples, my heart stirs. In my mind, I imagine the chopping, rinsing and organizing to come. Before I know it, I have five people crammed around my coffee table, on the floor and loveseat, breaking bread and having church.

It is a new season of sacredness. A new type of banquet.

Sun is shinin'...the weather is sweet...

It’s a beautimous day in KC and I'm feeling awesome.

In the vein of posts of old, I thought I’d throw out a few things that make me awfully happy about spring:

Walking barefoot through the grass.
Popping open my sunroof.

Veggie sandwiches.
Listening to the Gipsy Kings.
Making lemonade.

The clean smell of the air.

Going to the farmers' market.
Reading on my miniscule porch.
Sitting outside for lunch.

Iced coffee.

The "idea" that I could run outside...anytime I want.

Fresh fruit.
Resurrecting the age-old debate: Which bar has the best patio?
Wondering if I should put on sunscreen.
Whipping out the self-tanner.
Watching as the pile of unneeded jackets accumulates in my back seat.

What about you, peanut gallery? The best parts of Spring for you…go.

Today's soundtrack: Sunshine - Keane - Hopes and Fears

A "glass half-full kind of girl"

Some days all we can do is "try out" optimism while we:

Scrub ourselves clean.
Get up off the floor.
Tell ourselves that we’re loved.
Hope that tomorrow is better.

I mean, they SAY practice makes perfect, right?

“The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns; the pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious of the rose.” Kahlil Gibran

Wageni, mwakaribishwa

Translation: "Foreigners, you're welcome"

As most of the longtime FTS readers know, I went to Kenya last summer with my friends' organization Soulfari Kenya.

If you've been intrigued reading about my journey, I highly encourage you to consider going. This trip is a beautiful way to serve others - it's life-changing, humbling and is a great way to see firsthand what the media, Bono, Oprah and everyone else are talking about.

There are still spots left for this summer's trip from July 5-26, 2007. For details, check out soulfarikenya.com or read the Soulfari blog. (They'll probably accept travelers until the end of March or so.)

Also, you might remember my posts about the group's side project, FACE.AFRICA. All the artist's works can now be viewed on the Soulfari site! I'll be posting more news about this here in the future, but this art collaborative is amazing and going to yield great fruit. The portraits will be a beautiful gift to each of the children from Villa Teag orphanage. (They'll receive their portrait when the Soulfari group goes this summer.)

Karibu Kenya!

Fun link: Click to listen to the famous Kenyan greeting song, "Jambo" (words here).

Birthday Dedications

Two of my favorite people have birthdays surrounding this weekend, so here's a little birthday shoutout from DJ A-gator.

March 2 - My Dad
A birthday dedication: Kashmir - Led Zeppelin - Physical Graffiti

March 5 - Kelli
A birthday dedication: Nice & Slow - Usher - My Way

See you in Iowa City, Pops! Opa, Kel!

Even better than a time capsule...

For all you folks that were brought up on the right music, you gotta check it out. This guy be bloggin.

Soundtrack for reading: Baba O'Reilly - The Who - Who's Next

Living amidst the storm

Photo by: Marc Graham link

Our journey with God is so uniquely personal. For one person, a certain practice is old-hand. For another, they’ll spend their entire life struggling to attempt it.

I was a bit hesitant to share my fasting experience here for so many reasons: the pull towards religious perfectionism in the Christian community; the intensely solitary nature of a fast; and because, well, it was between me and God.

Then I realized that’s not how I roll. I learn by hearing other people’s stories. I grow by telling my own.

These practices are better to walk out and discuss in public – not as an exercise in piety or dogmatism, but as a way to shape our beliefs and encourage each other.

****

So, yesterday I fasted…for the second time in my life.

What I learned is that the process reveals so much about the complexities of the human spirit. Throughout the day, my emotions sped and surged like a rollercoaster out of control. On a normal day I eat every 3-4 hours, so by mid-morning my system was pissed.

As my thoughts swirled, I prayed a lot. As I did, I got to thinking that it’d be a neat idea to step back and catalog my thoughts and feelings.

7:30: I wake up later than normal and rush to the shower…don’t want to remember that I’m not going to eat until dinnertime. I really, really love breakfast – especially peanut butter. Mmmm…peanut butter.

8:50: Pull into the parking garage, yawning. Stupid sexy coffee…my body misses caffeine.

10:30: Tired and worn, aware of a serious lack of energy, I’m irritable and can’t focus on work. It feels like I’m in a sleepy fog. I worry that I’m not depending on God enough to do this. Am I just doing this to prove some lame goal? I think through the people who must endure this sort of feeling each day and go for water or walk long distances. I feel weak for being this much of a baby after 3 hours.

11:15: I’ve been pulled into thinking of all the frustrations I’ve had recently. Everyone is talking about lunch. Not cool. How much do we talk about stuff we have or can access around people who can’t? Do they feel like this?

12:45: I leave a tough lunchtime prayer session at JW. My brain wanted to keep focusing on me or guilt and I kept fighting it and trying to re-center on peaceful thoughts. It’s like hunger stokes the flames of dissatisfaction in my heart. It burned. Someone prayed that we would find God in places of suffering and that really resonates. I sat in my car with my journal for awhile and wrote. It is gorgeous outside. I feel thankful for the first time today.

1:15: Come back to an email of encouragement from Cass. The littlest things and gestures mean so much when we struggle. I make a mug full of tea and all is right with the world.

2:41: Decide it’s a good idea to eat some of a protein bar so that I don’t go home and start ravenously eating. I’d like to make soup and really celebrate breaking my fast. This will help me make it until then.

3:24: All this water drinking makes me feel like I’ve licked the inside of a shoe. Gross.

4:01: I’m actually doing pretty well now. My energy level went way up after eating that little bit. My head still aches. I’m ready to get to the next step – eating food and praying and rejoicing for it.


Around 5:00: I’m ready to leave work. My stomach is starting to growl, but I notice it minimally. The sun is shining and life is heavenly outside. I went to my happy place at Shawnee Mission Park and sat in the middle of a field, facing west, looking directly into the sun. There, amidst this heavenly creation, I prayed and praised God and was fully present before I broke the fast. I wrote. I read. I let the sun lick my face and pulled a blanket up to keep the wind out.

I drive home as the huge thunderstorm rolls in. The change seems appropriate and I’m struck by how quickly things change. Sunny in one moment, storming the next.

****

I don’t know what all of the takeaways are from this yet, but I do know this: yesterday took me to a place filled with honesty, weakness and dependence on God. I guess that’s what taking something important out of our lives does…helps us get a new perspective.

It’s also apparent in these reflections that my brain is a lot meaner to me than I understood. Complaints don’t spill out of my mouth, but they can eat at my heart all they want.

Still the greatest gift was at the end of the day, seeing the finish line and knowing that God was with me. I was filled with a joy that I haven’t known or seen in a long time. It was simple, pure and vast…just like God.