This afternoon i had some revelations...
when most people start working out to get in shape for bathing suit season around march...i begin to work out now to get in shape for snowboarding season. this is not an exaggeration but actually what i realized during my work out today..
also, i realized today i have not bought shampoo/conditioner since june. i still have some in the shower, but i have not run out. june people. its october.
third revelation to go along with that is...ITS OCTOBER. I cannot believe its fall, i love the fall, but where did summer go?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wedding week!
Well, it's been a busy week.
Wednesday was work and homework until around 2:20, and I had too much caffeine in me. So Wednesday I didn't really sleep.
On Thursday I helped move Haley into her new home! Since I was blessed with a talent for organizing the unorganized, Haley was a prime candidate for my gifts so I blessed her with them for hours to get her all moved in. I got home and tried to go to bed early, that didn't really happen, but I managed to get there at a decent hour I suppose. At 3:18am, to be exact, I was suddenly awoken by this:
yes, that is my closet, and those are my clothes. But they are not on my hanger, they are definitely on top of my shoes. I was suddenly awoken by what I thought to be Andrea falling through the ceiling. I literally jumped out of bed to see my closet door swing open. I was terrified and shaking for about an hour. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much on Thursday night.
Friday was work early and all day and then the REHEARSAL DINNER!! So excited! Everyone was there, everyone was rehearsing, everyone was eating great mexican food...which in the end, is all that really matters. I got home late around 11:45 only to see my closet was fixed. I couldn't really leave the ridiculous amount of clothes on my floor and chair, so I had to fix them...and I had to fix them until 1:45am apparently, because thats when I finished and went to sleep. On Friday night, I didn't really get much sleep.
But on saturday! I walked outside at around 9:30 to make it to the wedding when I was approached by a woman complimenting my outfit and telling me "GIRL! You should be a model! Look at you! So pretty, oh girl, look at your pretty little toes!" My response, "what a nice thing to say so early in the morning" her response, "Girl...can I get a bus token? Okay, i need three i'm going to doylestown and I am HURT!" She was drunk..therefore the compliment was now void. But thats okay because the day was not about me, it was about jason and haley.
They are married now! Jason and Haley Harmon! SO EXCITING!!! Here are some pictures from the wedding...
It was such a fun block party wedding and I really think everyone had a great time..after the party we all went out for a beer and satyed out way too late. So on Saturday night I didn't sleep much.
On Sunday I helped with the Bethesda Project, a shelter in the city, and it really reminded me how much I am called to serve and be in some sort of service with my life. Even with my delirious sleep deprivation headache, I loved serving and meeting the people where their most basic needs are being met and when they are the most vulnerable. On Sunday night I had another LiNK (Liberty in North Korea) screening at my house...a good turn out of about 15 people showed up...watch whats going on here:
And then I went to bed at 9:30. And I slept. For the first time in about three weeks. I slept for over 12 hours. And it was glorious.
I'm ready for a new week. Here is a little something I woke up to the other day. Hope it makes you smile.
Wednesday was work and homework until around 2:20, and I had too much caffeine in me. So Wednesday I didn't really sleep.
On Thursday I helped move Haley into her new home! Since I was blessed with a talent for organizing the unorganized, Haley was a prime candidate for my gifts so I blessed her with them for hours to get her all moved in. I got home and tried to go to bed early, that didn't really happen, but I managed to get there at a decent hour I suppose. At 3:18am, to be exact, I was suddenly awoken by this:
yes, that is my closet, and those are my clothes. But they are not on my hanger, they are definitely on top of my shoes. I was suddenly awoken by what I thought to be Andrea falling through the ceiling. I literally jumped out of bed to see my closet door swing open. I was terrified and shaking for about an hour. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much on Thursday night.
Friday was work early and all day and then the REHEARSAL DINNER!! So excited! Everyone was there, everyone was rehearsing, everyone was eating great mexican food...which in the end, is all that really matters. I got home late around 11:45 only to see my closet was fixed. I couldn't really leave the ridiculous amount of clothes on my floor and chair, so I had to fix them...and I had to fix them until 1:45am apparently, because thats when I finished and went to sleep. On Friday night, I didn't really get much sleep.
But on saturday! I walked outside at around 9:30 to make it to the wedding when I was approached by a woman complimenting my outfit and telling me "GIRL! You should be a model! Look at you! So pretty, oh girl, look at your pretty little toes!" My response, "what a nice thing to say so early in the morning" her response, "Girl...can I get a bus token? Okay, i need three i'm going to doylestown and I am HURT!" She was drunk..therefore the compliment was now void. But thats okay because the day was not about me, it was about jason and haley.
They are married now! Jason and Haley Harmon! SO EXCITING!!! Here are some pictures from the wedding...
It was such a fun block party wedding and I really think everyone had a great time..after the party we all went out for a beer and satyed out way too late. So on Saturday night I didn't sleep much.
On Sunday I helped with the Bethesda Project, a shelter in the city, and it really reminded me how much I am called to serve and be in some sort of service with my life. Even with my delirious sleep deprivation headache, I loved serving and meeting the people where their most basic needs are being met and when they are the most vulnerable. On Sunday night I had another LiNK (Liberty in North Korea) screening at my house...a good turn out of about 15 people showed up...watch whats going on here:
And then I went to bed at 9:30. And I slept. For the first time in about three weeks. I slept for over 12 hours. And it was glorious.
I'm ready for a new week. Here is a little something I woke up to the other day. Hope it makes you smile.
Monday, September 21, 2009
can i start over?
You ever have days when you want to crawl back in to bed and just start over?
Today was that day for me.
It started off at 1am. I got a call from India..so I picked up at 1am in a daze and certainly confused. I told Victor I needed to go to sleep and hung up.
I woke up about a half an hour early to read before my internship, while I was pretty exhausted, I happy with the fact that Iam starting to discipline myself again. It was a really good time in reading and praying and I thought to myself...today is going to be a good day.
And then I walked outside.
As I got to the corner, the light was red, I crossed at people from at least 4 cars watched as I fell, coffee travel mug in hand, I fell on my hands and knees, wearing a dress, coffee went flying, and my knees were all scrapped up. I got up thought about taking a bow, but simply kept walking like nothing had just happened.
I walked two more blocks only to see my bus pull up to the stop as I am about a half block away, I RUN with my bloody knees to catch the bus. I succeed. I get on the bus, winded, bruised, and searching for a bus token. Things are flying and I have to go into my bag to get my wallet to get my ouch with my tokens in a plastic wrapping. I finally put one in the meter when the bus jerks forward. My wallet's coin part was still open. And yes, I think you know what happened next. Coins EVERYWHERE. They flew across the bus landing on the floor, hitting people as they made their way to the back of the bus. Embarrassed and flustered from my morning, I just sat down and giggled. A little boy named Ian got on the bus after this happened. He found SO many coins on the floor that he picked them all up and put them in his pocket. At least someone had a good day.
After all of this, I still managed to get lost under City Hall trying to take the Broad St line.
...but after my internship, I did run into my favorite ladies at Anthropologie, sipped on a pumpkin spice latte and met up with my good friend Liz, who I have not seen in about 2 years...I mean hey, things had to go up from this morning, right?
Today was that day for me.
It started off at 1am. I got a call from India..so I picked up at 1am in a daze and certainly confused. I told Victor I needed to go to sleep and hung up.
I woke up about a half an hour early to read before my internship, while I was pretty exhausted, I happy with the fact that Iam starting to discipline myself again. It was a really good time in reading and praying and I thought to myself...today is going to be a good day.
And then I walked outside.
As I got to the corner, the light was red, I crossed at people from at least 4 cars watched as I fell, coffee travel mug in hand, I fell on my hands and knees, wearing a dress, coffee went flying, and my knees were all scrapped up. I got up thought about taking a bow, but simply kept walking like nothing had just happened.
I walked two more blocks only to see my bus pull up to the stop as I am about a half block away, I RUN with my bloody knees to catch the bus. I succeed. I get on the bus, winded, bruised, and searching for a bus token. Things are flying and I have to go into my bag to get my wallet to get my ouch with my tokens in a plastic wrapping. I finally put one in the meter when the bus jerks forward. My wallet's coin part was still open. And yes, I think you know what happened next. Coins EVERYWHERE. They flew across the bus landing on the floor, hitting people as they made their way to the back of the bus. Embarrassed and flustered from my morning, I just sat down and giggled. A little boy named Ian got on the bus after this happened. He found SO many coins on the floor that he picked them all up and put them in his pocket. At least someone had a good day.
After all of this, I still managed to get lost under City Hall trying to take the Broad St line.
...but after my internship, I did run into my favorite ladies at Anthropologie, sipped on a pumpkin spice latte and met up with my good friend Liz, who I have not seen in about 2 years...I mean hey, things had to go up from this morning, right?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Do you have a nickel?
I should be taking my quiz for my foundations class right now but I thought about this really beautiful moment I witnessed on the subway this morning, of all places.
I was sitting on the subway on my way to my internship, no one was talking and I was looking straight ahead to avoid all eye contact from all passengers when I heard her voice. "Do you have a nickel?" "Sir? Can I have a nickel?" She had on a purple dress and bedroom slippers that used to be pink but were now brown from the wear and tear of the streets. The dress was lose and missing buttons, so her stomach was uncomfortably exposed for everyone to see. She was, to say the least, down on her luck.
But it was a nickel. Five cents. Pocket change, and yet I kept looking forward averting the glares of the people around me. But we were on a subway, a moving lock box with no escape. There was no where to run or hide and moving or ignoring the only person talking would be rude, right? But I know what everyone was thinking. How rude of her to ask me for a nickel, to bother my "me" time on the train. The calm before the busy day at work. All these thoughts were going through my head when I heard another a voice, a smaller voice.
The young boy, about 7 years old, sitting across from me simply said, "oh, I've got a nickel" The innocence of the child and the selfless giving of someone who has not been ruined by the world. He wrestled to get into hi tight jeans for a while, he was no doubt going through a growth spurt and they no longer fit him. He asked his mom to hold his juice box while he reached in and grabbed the nickel from his pocket. He gave it to the woman and sat down, continuing to drink his juice box.
I was stunned. I had just witnessed one of the most beautiful pictures of love and non judgment I had ever seen. I was moved and judging from the fact that now everyone's gaze was no longer ahead, but instead on this young boy, I could tell others were moved too.
What a good reminder of grace and love.
I was sitting on the subway on my way to my internship, no one was talking and I was looking straight ahead to avoid all eye contact from all passengers when I heard her voice. "Do you have a nickel?" "Sir? Can I have a nickel?" She had on a purple dress and bedroom slippers that used to be pink but were now brown from the wear and tear of the streets. The dress was lose and missing buttons, so her stomach was uncomfortably exposed for everyone to see. She was, to say the least, down on her luck.
But it was a nickel. Five cents. Pocket change, and yet I kept looking forward averting the glares of the people around me. But we were on a subway, a moving lock box with no escape. There was no where to run or hide and moving or ignoring the only person talking would be rude, right? But I know what everyone was thinking. How rude of her to ask me for a nickel, to bother my "me" time on the train. The calm before the busy day at work. All these thoughts were going through my head when I heard another a voice, a smaller voice.
The young boy, about 7 years old, sitting across from me simply said, "oh, I've got a nickel" The innocence of the child and the selfless giving of someone who has not been ruined by the world. He wrestled to get into hi tight jeans for a while, he was no doubt going through a growth spurt and they no longer fit him. He asked his mom to hold his juice box while he reached in and grabbed the nickel from his pocket. He gave it to the woman and sat down, continuing to drink his juice box.
I was stunned. I had just witnessed one of the most beautiful pictures of love and non judgment I had ever seen. I was moved and judging from the fact that now everyone's gaze was no longer ahead, but instead on this young boy, I could tell others were moved too.
What a good reminder of grace and love.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Not for one second
My day started like any other..at noon. I woke up a little bit behind most of the city...well, maybe not most of the city but some of the city..I needed the rest because I went to bed at 3am last night..we went out to Fado's to celebrate my birthday which led to an dancing, gum on my shoe, UD reunion to the max, irish man trying to show me his hair in a place that is supposed to be hidden (later that night he got in a bar fight for hitting on some guys girlfriend - blood everywhere) and stuffing applesauce and a banana in a mail slot, it was glorious.
But today, today I ventured to New Jersey. I don't often go to NJ for many reasons. One - they wont let me pump my gas. I like pumping my gas, it makes me feel independent and competent. B, the round-abouts. they are pointless. And 3, I had a stalker from NJ once, he was a stalker..enough said. he's probably reading this right now (whats up?) and today I added yet another reason - i drove for almost two hours to get somewhere that should have taken a half an hour. Instead of taking responsibility - I will blame this on New Jersey. The armpit of America, the scapegoat. So screw you NJ for making me late for the Eagle's first football game of the season and for making me miss church later. It's always New Jersey's fault (remember if you are in Colorado blame it on the altitude, if you are on the east coast blame it on New Jersey)
After I got back into the city that I now have grown accustomed to, I met up with some people to go to Nako's play for the Philly fringe festival. I was walking downtown with a large group of people when I flashed Philadelphia. There was a tremendous amount of steam coming from a grate and I was wearing a skirt..when you put two together, you get lots of flashing and screaming and normally a few honks - I'm actually offended I didn't get any honks. But literally my skirt blew up to my face and I was completely exposed. Ahh its just like the days of the high school lock-in and the "sweat pants pantsing with thong" incident..details to follow in a later entry.
The play was phenomenal though. Nako, a friend and the playwright, did a great job about portraying the thought process of Henrik Isben..everyone should watch the second act coming in 2010.
After watching we all went our separate ways. I went home and realized not only do I dislike New Jersey, but I also hate Sunday nights for two reasons: the weekend is over and it is trash night. So I began to take the trash out but when I came back up the stairs he was back. This guy:
he was charging me again...just like he did a week ago when i put that red vase over him but he escaped. So i took off my shoe and I killed him. Thats right, dead on the stair. So I left him there. I thought it would serve as a warning for other critters that the ladies of the JACK house mean business and they shouldn't come around these parts anymore. Unfortunately, I don't think my roommates will be as excited about this theory, but I'm thinking its going to work.
With all the things I mentioned I hated, I must end this post with things that I loved from this weekend as well...rain, sunshine, driving with the windows down, singing at the top of your lungs, dancing and dance parties, good beer, friends, good food, parties, pizza from lazaros, celebrating friends, the theater!, "this american life" the tv show, coffee, laughing, talking through things, music and sleep.
But today, today I ventured to New Jersey. I don't often go to NJ for many reasons. One - they wont let me pump my gas. I like pumping my gas, it makes me feel independent and competent. B, the round-abouts. they are pointless. And 3, I had a stalker from NJ once, he was a stalker..enough said. he's probably reading this right now (whats up?) and today I added yet another reason - i drove for almost two hours to get somewhere that should have taken a half an hour. Instead of taking responsibility - I will blame this on New Jersey. The armpit of America, the scapegoat. So screw you NJ for making me late for the Eagle's first football game of the season and for making me miss church later. It's always New Jersey's fault (remember if you are in Colorado blame it on the altitude, if you are on the east coast blame it on New Jersey)
After I got back into the city that I now have grown accustomed to, I met up with some people to go to Nako's play for the Philly fringe festival. I was walking downtown with a large group of people when I flashed Philadelphia. There was a tremendous amount of steam coming from a grate and I was wearing a skirt..when you put two together, you get lots of flashing and screaming and normally a few honks - I'm actually offended I didn't get any honks. But literally my skirt blew up to my face and I was completely exposed. Ahh its just like the days of the high school lock-in and the "sweat pants pantsing with thong" incident..details to follow in a later entry.
The play was phenomenal though. Nako, a friend and the playwright, did a great job about portraying the thought process of Henrik Isben..everyone should watch the second act coming in 2010.
After watching we all went our separate ways. I went home and realized not only do I dislike New Jersey, but I also hate Sunday nights for two reasons: the weekend is over and it is trash night. So I began to take the trash out but when I came back up the stairs he was back. This guy:
he was charging me again...just like he did a week ago when i put that red vase over him but he escaped. So i took off my shoe and I killed him. Thats right, dead on the stair. So I left him there. I thought it would serve as a warning for other critters that the ladies of the JACK house mean business and they shouldn't come around these parts anymore. Unfortunately, I don't think my roommates will be as excited about this theory, but I'm thinking its going to work.
With all the things I mentioned I hated, I must end this post with things that I loved from this weekend as well...rain, sunshine, driving with the windows down, singing at the top of your lungs, dancing and dance parties, good beer, friends, good food, parties, pizza from lazaros, celebrating friends, the theater!, "this american life" the tv show, coffee, laughing, talking through things, music and sleep.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
i'm off the bus...
for all your young lifers out there...watch and enjoy some of this summer's program
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Community
"Be daring, be difficult, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it safers, the creatures of the common place, the slaves of the ordinary" - Cecil Beaton
I came across this quote when I looked through all the encouraging letters people wrote to me before I left for India. This quote was from my friend Liz Leaver who encourages me to be more daring than she realizes...I read this and reflected on the fundraiser I just had for the orphanage. Most of you don't know, but we raised over $1400 for the Kadesh Children's Happy Home in Bangalore, India....incredible.
After I sent the care package full of clothes and toys, and wired the money I had to go for a bike ride and reflect on the graciousness of God and His people. the spirit of giving was something I shouldn't even be surprised about anymore, but I still am. I see it constantly from those around me and in my community. I saw it before I left for India, I saw it during my time in the homeless shelter, and I see it now in this new community in Philly. It is so beautiful. I want everyone to be a part of it and to experience it..it is something we miss in the hustle and bustle of life in the city, but I think if we stop to look and see the beautiful spirit of those around us, it would change our mentality. It would change the way we lived.
I came across this quote when I looked through all the encouraging letters people wrote to me before I left for India. This quote was from my friend Liz Leaver who encourages me to be more daring than she realizes...I read this and reflected on the fundraiser I just had for the orphanage. Most of you don't know, but we raised over $1400 for the Kadesh Children's Happy Home in Bangalore, India....incredible.
After I sent the care package full of clothes and toys, and wired the money I had to go for a bike ride and reflect on the graciousness of God and His people. the spirit of giving was something I shouldn't even be surprised about anymore, but I still am. I see it constantly from those around me and in my community. I saw it before I left for India, I saw it during my time in the homeless shelter, and I see it now in this new community in Philly. It is so beautiful. I want everyone to be a part of it and to experience it..it is something we miss in the hustle and bustle of life in the city, but I think if we stop to look and see the beautiful spirit of those around us, it would change our mentality. It would change the way we lived.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
When I grow up....
Well contrary to what girls these days think growing up is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcEZrEPDV9k
I think being a grown up is much different than I thought it would be when I was younger. I remember being a freshman in high school and walking down the hall and looking at juniors and seniors as not only gods, but as the older kids. They always seemed so much older than me. When I became a senior, I still felt young. I was open to hanging out with freshman and often times did with Young Life and sports. They did not seem "that much" younger than me. I never felt old.
The other day andrea and I went out to find a 90's inspired outfit for the 90's party that never happened (sorry brucey and dano).
We found these amazing keds at urban.
...as we shopped she was saying she was going to wear them without socks because her mom never let her wear her keds without socks when she was growing up.
As I thought about this conversation an earlier conversation came to mind. I was making cookies for a care package and I had extra dough left over. Andrea started to eat the dough. This is normal. She made a comment that her mom never let her eat dough and it wasn't until high school (most likely at my house) when she discovered cookie dough was edible and delicious! Her Mom always told her it would poison her or something...lies. Parental protection, but lies none-the-less.
The point of these stories is not to make Andrea look sheltered, in fact, my parents did many similar things to me when I was growing up. These stories were told, instead, to point out one simple fact: we are grown ups. When did that happen?
We can eat cookie dough until we throw up, we can wear socks with our sneakers, but if we are feeling crazy then heck! Take off those socks, who will tell you otherwise? No one, because we are grown ups.
If we want to wear mismatched clothes and sleep til noon, we can. If we want to have a beer or glass of wine with dinner, we can. If we want to fall in love or get in fights or quit our jobs, we can. We are adults. We are all growed up.
This reality is humbling. I don't really remember the point when I felt like a true adult. Now my friends are starting to get married and have children, most days this feels normal, but when I really think about it..the days of being told to go to my room do not feel so long ago. We are adults. We make adult decisions and go to grown up jobs. And grown up bars. Some of us make monumental grown up decisions and mistakes. The decisions we make affect us and we must now take responsibility for all of our actions. We are no longer told what to do (by our parents) but now, if you get in to trouble it normally holds much more weight. Because now you are responsible. Soon we will have children of our own to tell what to do and how to wear their socks and comb their hair. I plan on dressing my children up in costumes everyday and taking embarrassing photographs of them all the time. One day. Not any time soon. Because although I am an adult, I do not feel like one just quite yet.
But thats just the thing. I am one. So are you...
We are grown ups. When did that happen?
for now i wont worry about it...i will just listen to regina and sing at the top of the lungs. because i can. because i am a grown up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcEZrEPDV9k
I think being a grown up is much different than I thought it would be when I was younger. I remember being a freshman in high school and walking down the hall and looking at juniors and seniors as not only gods, but as the older kids. They always seemed so much older than me. When I became a senior, I still felt young. I was open to hanging out with freshman and often times did with Young Life and sports. They did not seem "that much" younger than me. I never felt old.
The other day andrea and I went out to find a 90's inspired outfit for the 90's party that never happened (sorry brucey and dano).
We found these amazing keds at urban.
...as we shopped she was saying she was going to wear them without socks because her mom never let her wear her keds without socks when she was growing up.
As I thought about this conversation an earlier conversation came to mind. I was making cookies for a care package and I had extra dough left over. Andrea started to eat the dough. This is normal. She made a comment that her mom never let her eat dough and it wasn't until high school (most likely at my house) when she discovered cookie dough was edible and delicious! Her Mom always told her it would poison her or something...lies. Parental protection, but lies none-the-less.
The point of these stories is not to make Andrea look sheltered, in fact, my parents did many similar things to me when I was growing up. These stories were told, instead, to point out one simple fact: we are grown ups. When did that happen?
We can eat cookie dough until we throw up, we can wear socks with our sneakers, but if we are feeling crazy then heck! Take off those socks, who will tell you otherwise? No one, because we are grown ups.
If we want to wear mismatched clothes and sleep til noon, we can. If we want to have a beer or glass of wine with dinner, we can. If we want to fall in love or get in fights or quit our jobs, we can. We are adults. We are all growed up.
This reality is humbling. I don't really remember the point when I felt like a true adult. Now my friends are starting to get married and have children, most days this feels normal, but when I really think about it..the days of being told to go to my room do not feel so long ago. We are adults. We make adult decisions and go to grown up jobs. And grown up bars. Some of us make monumental grown up decisions and mistakes. The decisions we make affect us and we must now take responsibility for all of our actions. We are no longer told what to do (by our parents) but now, if you get in to trouble it normally holds much more weight. Because now you are responsible. Soon we will have children of our own to tell what to do and how to wear their socks and comb their hair. I plan on dressing my children up in costumes everyday and taking embarrassing photographs of them all the time. One day. Not any time soon. Because although I am an adult, I do not feel like one just quite yet.
But thats just the thing. I am one. So are you...
We are grown ups. When did that happen?
for now i wont worry about it...i will just listen to regina and sing at the top of the lungs. because i can. because i am a grown up.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
But you put the happy in my ness
This week I can't stop listening to ben harper's "walk away"....
But you put the happy in my ness
And it's so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes - sometimes,
you just have to walk away - walk away
Lyrics define my life. Music is a daily necessity.
Lately I have been reminded about how much I talk...I realize when I lie in my bed at night about how many stories people, and they nod and smile and ask themselves why I told them the story about the horse I saw on the street earlier, in the first place....I don't think it's a phenomenon I can explain, but I just like talking..I'm trying to break myself of the habit.
But you put the happy in my ness
And it's so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes - sometimes,
you just have to walk away - walk away
Lyrics define my life. Music is a daily necessity.
Lately I have been reminded about how much I talk...I realize when I lie in my bed at night about how many stories people, and they nod and smile and ask themselves why I told them the story about the horse I saw on the street earlier, in the first place....I don't think it's a phenomenon I can explain, but I just like talking..I'm trying to break myself of the habit.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Hallelujah
I love this song, and I love this woman singing it. I just feel like it is a song full of emotion and raw vulnerability and I think its absolutely beautiful... the pictures are pretty cheesy on this video, so just press play listen to the sweet sweet tunes but dont watch...
Sunday, August 2, 2009
name the new sammy
As most of you know...I traveled to Chicago/Detroit on June 18...and on that day US Airways lost my luggage. I was a pretty good sport about all of it because i figured, hey it can't be lost forever, right?
wrong.
gone. forever.
I got a phone call the other day from a US air rep...they are reimbursing me for all ym luggage and giving me a free plane ticket. This is all great and I am excited about this. But it doesn't bring back my grandmothers ring. And it doesn't bring back the last gift from my other grandmother (a watch). Or Sammy, my childhood hippo
but most of all it doesn't bring back my tweezers. Yes, thats right. I said it. If youare a female. You understand. Tweezers are a necessity and they can be expensive. But they are something I dont want to spend a lot of money on. At all. So I went out and bought these for abotu $4...thought I had found a steal.
These were great until I realized they sucked. So i did it I bought a pair of $12 tweezers...and ladies I tell you, i will never got back. They are the best investment I have ever ever made.
And i would have never bought a new pair of tweezers if it hadn't been for US air losing my luggage....so thanks.
And also thanks JessCo for replacing Sammy with this little gem that turned up on my door step :) What should I name him???
wrong.
gone. forever.
I got a phone call the other day from a US air rep...they are reimbursing me for all ym luggage and giving me a free plane ticket. This is all great and I am excited about this. But it doesn't bring back my grandmothers ring. And it doesn't bring back the last gift from my other grandmother (a watch). Or Sammy, my childhood hippo
but most of all it doesn't bring back my tweezers. Yes, thats right. I said it. If youare a female. You understand. Tweezers are a necessity and they can be expensive. But they are something I dont want to spend a lot of money on. At all. So I went out and bought these for abotu $4...thought I had found a steal.
These were great until I realized they sucked. So i did it I bought a pair of $12 tweezers...and ladies I tell you, i will never got back. They are the best investment I have ever ever made.
And i would have never bought a new pair of tweezers if it hadn't been for US air losing my luggage....so thanks.
And also thanks JessCo for replacing Sammy with this little gem that turned up on my door step :) What should I name him???
Friday, July 24, 2009
it's like ive waited my whole life....
This IS my wedding. Thanks Leah wonderful hatton for making my morning complete by showing me what I had forgotten to plan for the day i get married.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
the life of brian
Carolyn: where are you going on vacation?
11:15pm
Brian: drum roll
... wisconsin ...
wah wah wahhhhhhhhh
11:15pm
Brian: drum roll
... wisconsin ...
wah wah wahhhhhhhhh
Processing
I love throwing a football around. Not aggressively, but just a casual toss of a football brings me enjoyment. I never knew that before.
I leave this Friday for Lake Champion to see Christa. I am excited and ready to take a break and reflect. I have been doing a lot of thinking, praying, and talking to others, but I think its time to leave so that I can process all of it. I cant process it here and I sometimes feel the more I talk about it, the worse it gets. I have had such encouraging and uplifting conversations over the past week and I am honestly excited to put them all together into one thought and figure out where I stand with everything going on in my life.
I have been listening to this song on repeat (in between listening to Fireflies by Owl City) and I just think it is so beautiful.
A thousand times I've failed
Still Your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
I'm caught in Your grace
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
Your will above all else
My purpose remains
The art of losing myself
In bringing You praise
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
In my heart and my soul
Lord I give You control
Consume me from the inside out
Lord let justice and praise
Become my embrace
To love You from the inside out
I leave this Friday for Lake Champion to see Christa. I am excited and ready to take a break and reflect. I have been doing a lot of thinking, praying, and talking to others, but I think its time to leave so that I can process all of it. I cant process it here and I sometimes feel the more I talk about it, the worse it gets. I have had such encouraging and uplifting conversations over the past week and I am honestly excited to put them all together into one thought and figure out where I stand with everything going on in my life.
I have been listening to this song on repeat (in between listening to Fireflies by Owl City) and I just think it is so beautiful.
A thousand times I've failed
Still Your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
I'm caught in Your grace
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
Your will above all else
My purpose remains
The art of losing myself
In bringing You praise
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
In my heart and my soul
Lord I give You control
Consume me from the inside out
Lord let justice and praise
Become my embrace
To love You from the inside out
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
no touchy
Sitting in class and watching a video about social interactions.
The speaker was talking about public space, social space, personal space, and intimate space.
He discussed a study of 6 business men and their personal space according to their culture.
2 business men from America, 2 from France, and 2 from South America.
There was a camera in the room of the meeting and they observed how many times the men touched during the meeting.
American men: 2 (think about it shake hands when meet, shake hands when leave)
French men: 110
South American men: 180
incredible how much our culture hates touching and loves our bubbles of personal space. No wonder we're all so depressed.
The speaker was talking about public space, social space, personal space, and intimate space.
He discussed a study of 6 business men and their personal space according to their culture.
2 business men from America, 2 from France, and 2 from South America.
There was a camera in the room of the meeting and they observed how many times the men touched during the meeting.
American men: 2 (think about it shake hands when meet, shake hands when leave)
French men: 110
South American men: 180
incredible how much our culture hates touching and loves our bubbles of personal space. No wonder we're all so depressed.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
This Beautiful Mess.
Suffering is on my mind. It helps to read this with The David Crowder Band playing Deliver Me in the background
A few years ago, about fifteen friends had gathered at my friend Clint's place in Nassau. We were not suffering. We were enjoying great food, tropical sun, and white sand beaches. Even better was the company - amazing passionate, humble, subversive servants of Jesus from many different parts of the world. We sat in a circle sharing about where the kingdom seemed to be showing up most in our different ministries and areas of interest. The talk turned to suffering.
I remember that a few of us from the West seemed to dominate the conversation. Our brothers from elsewhere mostly listened. But I remember something else: When we spoke of it, suffering was an idea; when they spoke of suffering, they shared a big part of their story.
Cuba came up. Someone said the church there, led mostly by women, was thriving but desperately needed medical supplies. How to get help into a mostly closed country? The idea guys suddenly fell silent. We felt sympathetic but didn't have much to say.
Celestin, our friend from Rwanda, spoke up. "What would happen if you took medical supplies to Cuba to your sisters there?"
"You would get arrested," I said. Someone else began to explain to Celestin the embargo and other legal roadblocks. But Celestin interrupted.
"Wouldn't that preach?" he asked.
At first I didn't get what he was saying. I figured he was having trouble translating his thoughts into English. But he said again.
"Wouldn't that preach to the world if you got arrested while taking medical supplies into Cuba for your sisters?"
At that moment, I felt like I had taken a baseball bat in the ribs. I'd been hit with the dangerous side of the kingdom and, I'm embarrassed to admit, by a thought that never would have come to mind in a millions years. Clearly my creativity for the gospel ended at the point of suffering. Celestin's simple question suddenly seemed rich with revolutionary genius.
What would the world think if we loved our sisters in Cuba enough to take them medicine? And how much could our lives sat without speaking if we were willing to suffer for the sake of the kingdom?
The act alone would preach volumes.
Celestin is no stranger to suffering. He has been imprisoned for his faith in Jesus and for preaching. He has been beaten in those prison cells. And in those cells he has spoken with boldness and compassion to the guards who threatened his life. A guard once said to him, "We have the tapes of your sermon. We know what you have been saying."
"Good!" Celestin replied. "Did you listen to them? Are you ready to believe? You can kill me-I know where I am going. But I am worried about you."
Celestin told me that when he is in jail, his church thrives. Weird paradox. He told me about another pastor who, along with his sons, was maimed and then killed in front of his wife. But she now lead the church, even though she is illiterate. A boy comes by a couple of times a week to read her the selected Bible passage. On Sunday she gets up and preaches the message. Her church too is flourishing. "You cannot kill the church -you cannot," says Celestin.
Not long ago, Celestin stayed at my home. WE walked the hills looking out at Mount Saint Helens and talked. He'd completed another term of study at seminary and was preparing to return to Africa.
I asked him how he dealt with the threats to his safety from his constant travel, both inside and outside Africa. Every time he returns he risks arrest, beatings, torture, imprisonment. I asked him why he didn't just stay in the States longer on his student visa. He said, "I would rather die in a jail cell in Sudan, preaching the Gospel to my enemies, than on I-75 in Dallas."
Then he said, "Rick, my family knows what I am doing. They are committed to the Good News of the King and His kingdom coming to my people. My twelve-year-old son has told me, 'It will be okay if you die preaching Jesus, Father, because we have God as our Father.'"
Conversations with a disciple like that can rock you to the core. In Celestin's life I see so much beauty and a willingness to suffer in the mess for the sake of his King. I, on the other hand, am the guy who doesn't want to go to India because I could get an upset stomach. I might suffer in the hear. My mind likes to think of ways to strategically avoid suffering.
The act itself preaches.
It is not my fault that I was born in the West. I don't need to feel guilty about that, but rather receive it with gratitude. But I notice another way that my freedoms shape my assumptions: I have felt superior to those who suffer.
It is an ugly truth. I have subconsciously assumed that their suffering is due to their inferiority-they have pulled a sort of second-class seating assignment in God's big, blue kingdom bus. Facing that shameful prejudice has been a harsh awakening for me and has required a lot of repentance. If it's not my fault that I was born in the West, then neither is it to my credit. Celestin's son would cry as hard if his father were killed as my son would cry if I were killed. Those mothers in refugee camps in Darfur hurt the same way a mother in Iowa would hurt if she were watching her child slowly starve to death.
During another conversation at Clint's, I was struck by our global friends' compassion toward the Western church. In many ways, they feel sorry for us. They see our arrogance toward the rest of the world, our addiction to pleasure and comfort, our culture of sensuality and excess, which make it hard for us to fathom many of Christ's teachings-they see these not as evidence of superiority, but of disadvantage and poverty. they mourn our deep losses and have told us that they pray for us about these very things.
"We see what you're up against," Celestin said. "When you have medicine for the dandruff in your hair and for the fungus in your fingernails, it;s hard to believe that you need God on a daily basis. That's a difficult thing to be up against."
C. Rene Padilla, a leading theologian from Central America, looked at us and said, "We love you. We love the church in the West, and we're praying for you." But he said it as if we had a bigger problem than they did.
Praying for us? Another baseball bat to my rib cage. How right these "have not" friends are about the spiritual poverty of the "have it all" world.
I left the circle of conversation thankful that at least some who see us clearly for what we are and who we are not...are praying for us. ......
.....If your wife were dying of cancer, you would suffer with her. you wouldn't just show up once a month with flowers and a nice card. You would think about her day and night....
Suffering with others around the globe may look different than we instinctively think it does. For example, suffering with doesn't necessarily mean rushing in to fix their problem for them. In fact, our friends who live in the midst of suffering have told us that fixing the problem is not necessarily their goal for us either. What they desire more than money or programs or American know-how is relationship. Relationship means more than reading their e-mails. We're seeing that it means loving them enough to know them, to be with them, to eat at their tables, to sleep in their beds, and to come up know their world. Until we know our suffering friends like that, we will always treat them as ideas, not as brothers and sisters of the road.
-Rick McKinley, This Beautiful Mess
A few years ago, about fifteen friends had gathered at my friend Clint's place in Nassau. We were not suffering. We were enjoying great food, tropical sun, and white sand beaches. Even better was the company - amazing passionate, humble, subversive servants of Jesus from many different parts of the world. We sat in a circle sharing about where the kingdom seemed to be showing up most in our different ministries and areas of interest. The talk turned to suffering.
I remember that a few of us from the West seemed to dominate the conversation. Our brothers from elsewhere mostly listened. But I remember something else: When we spoke of it, suffering was an idea; when they spoke of suffering, they shared a big part of their story.
Cuba came up. Someone said the church there, led mostly by women, was thriving but desperately needed medical supplies. How to get help into a mostly closed country? The idea guys suddenly fell silent. We felt sympathetic but didn't have much to say.
Celestin, our friend from Rwanda, spoke up. "What would happen if you took medical supplies to Cuba to your sisters there?"
"You would get arrested," I said. Someone else began to explain to Celestin the embargo and other legal roadblocks. But Celestin interrupted.
"Wouldn't that preach?" he asked.
At first I didn't get what he was saying. I figured he was having trouble translating his thoughts into English. But he said again.
"Wouldn't that preach to the world if you got arrested while taking medical supplies into Cuba for your sisters?"
At that moment, I felt like I had taken a baseball bat in the ribs. I'd been hit with the dangerous side of the kingdom and, I'm embarrassed to admit, by a thought that never would have come to mind in a millions years. Clearly my creativity for the gospel ended at the point of suffering. Celestin's simple question suddenly seemed rich with revolutionary genius.
What would the world think if we loved our sisters in Cuba enough to take them medicine? And how much could our lives sat without speaking if we were willing to suffer for the sake of the kingdom?
The act alone would preach volumes.
Celestin is no stranger to suffering. He has been imprisoned for his faith in Jesus and for preaching. He has been beaten in those prison cells. And in those cells he has spoken with boldness and compassion to the guards who threatened his life. A guard once said to him, "We have the tapes of your sermon. We know what you have been saying."
"Good!" Celestin replied. "Did you listen to them? Are you ready to believe? You can kill me-I know where I am going. But I am worried about you."
Celestin told me that when he is in jail, his church thrives. Weird paradox. He told me about another pastor who, along with his sons, was maimed and then killed in front of his wife. But she now lead the church, even though she is illiterate. A boy comes by a couple of times a week to read her the selected Bible passage. On Sunday she gets up and preaches the message. Her church too is flourishing. "You cannot kill the church -you cannot," says Celestin.
Not long ago, Celestin stayed at my home. WE walked the hills looking out at Mount Saint Helens and talked. He'd completed another term of study at seminary and was preparing to return to Africa.
I asked him how he dealt with the threats to his safety from his constant travel, both inside and outside Africa. Every time he returns he risks arrest, beatings, torture, imprisonment. I asked him why he didn't just stay in the States longer on his student visa. He said, "I would rather die in a jail cell in Sudan, preaching the Gospel to my enemies, than on I-75 in Dallas."
Then he said, "Rick, my family knows what I am doing. They are committed to the Good News of the King and His kingdom coming to my people. My twelve-year-old son has told me, 'It will be okay if you die preaching Jesus, Father, because we have God as our Father.'"
Conversations with a disciple like that can rock you to the core. In Celestin's life I see so much beauty and a willingness to suffer in the mess for the sake of his King. I, on the other hand, am the guy who doesn't want to go to India because I could get an upset stomach. I might suffer in the hear. My mind likes to think of ways to strategically avoid suffering.
The act itself preaches.
It is not my fault that I was born in the West. I don't need to feel guilty about that, but rather receive it with gratitude. But I notice another way that my freedoms shape my assumptions: I have felt superior to those who suffer.
It is an ugly truth. I have subconsciously assumed that their suffering is due to their inferiority-they have pulled a sort of second-class seating assignment in God's big, blue kingdom bus. Facing that shameful prejudice has been a harsh awakening for me and has required a lot of repentance. If it's not my fault that I was born in the West, then neither is it to my credit. Celestin's son would cry as hard if his father were killed as my son would cry if I were killed. Those mothers in refugee camps in Darfur hurt the same way a mother in Iowa would hurt if she were watching her child slowly starve to death.
During another conversation at Clint's, I was struck by our global friends' compassion toward the Western church. In many ways, they feel sorry for us. They see our arrogance toward the rest of the world, our addiction to pleasure and comfort, our culture of sensuality and excess, which make it hard for us to fathom many of Christ's teachings-they see these not as evidence of superiority, but of disadvantage and poverty. they mourn our deep losses and have told us that they pray for us about these very things.
"We see what you're up against," Celestin said. "When you have medicine for the dandruff in your hair and for the fungus in your fingernails, it;s hard to believe that you need God on a daily basis. That's a difficult thing to be up against."
C. Rene Padilla, a leading theologian from Central America, looked at us and said, "We love you. We love the church in the West, and we're praying for you." But he said it as if we had a bigger problem than they did.
Praying for us? Another baseball bat to my rib cage. How right these "have not" friends are about the spiritual poverty of the "have it all" world.
I left the circle of conversation thankful that at least some who see us clearly for what we are and who we are not...are praying for us. ......
.....If your wife were dying of cancer, you would suffer with her. you wouldn't just show up once a month with flowers and a nice card. You would think about her day and night....
Suffering with others around the globe may look different than we instinctively think it does. For example, suffering with doesn't necessarily mean rushing in to fix their problem for them. In fact, our friends who live in the midst of suffering have told us that fixing the problem is not necessarily their goal for us either. What they desire more than money or programs or American know-how is relationship. Relationship means more than reading their e-mails. We're seeing that it means loving them enough to know them, to be with them, to eat at their tables, to sleep in their beds, and to come up know their world. Until we know our suffering friends like that, we will always treat them as ideas, not as brothers and sisters of the road.
-Rick McKinley, This Beautiful Mess
Thursday, July 2, 2009
the key to happiness
so i love lap swimming. but i keep losing my goggles.
goggles. such a funny word, such an annoying necessity for swimming. they never fit my face right. ever. water always gets in, no matter how tight i squeeze the cords, i have cut off circulation before until today...i bought kids swimming goggles.
bright pink ones.
and i went swimming today and it WORKED! i finally figured it out....i have a tiny tiny childs face on a grown ups body...is my face small? did no one ever tell me i have a small child-like face?
Also...on my way back from swimming i saw a man riding his bike with no hands...just riding along..sitting upright and i have to say i am so jealous of people who can do that....how do they do it? who can teach me? to quote a famous song...i can ride a bike with no handlebars...HOW?
look at how happy these people are...this is the key to my happiness
goggles. such a funny word, such an annoying necessity for swimming. they never fit my face right. ever. water always gets in, no matter how tight i squeeze the cords, i have cut off circulation before until today...i bought kids swimming goggles.
bright pink ones.
and i went swimming today and it WORKED! i finally figured it out....i have a tiny tiny childs face on a grown ups body...is my face small? did no one ever tell me i have a small child-like face?
Also...on my way back from swimming i saw a man riding his bike with no hands...just riding along..sitting upright and i have to say i am so jealous of people who can do that....how do they do it? who can teach me? to quote a famous song...i can ride a bike with no handlebars...HOW?
look at how happy these people are...this is the key to my happiness
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