i can't make you love me....if you don't

The post is brought to you by........random, disjointed thoughts that I have....they are not connected.



Every time I hear the song "I can't make you love me" sung by Bon Iver (and sometimes when I hear Bonnie sing it), I cry.  Every...single...time... I get so emotional. I start thinking about scenarios of unrequited love I have never even experienced. My imaginary boyfriend or love of my life I have never had comes into focus and I "well" up. I fight the urge to plan out and star in a sad music video. You've all done it too. I can't help it really, it's just so beautiful and dramatic. It makes my heart ache.

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A topic of my blog that has come up more than I would like is emotion. Crying over songs, stories, movies, COMMERCIALS. Uhg, this is just not me. I have written more on fighting the crying than embracing it. I have made more comments apologizing for tearing up than asking for a tissue and letting the tears flow. I have fought the emotions of being more than just a woman, but instead, human. I put my fists up brace the gut wrenching feeling of, well...anything. Mind you, it doesn't work and my emotions come out fractured and at the wrong time and towards the wrong person.

I don't think I'm alone in this. Three times this week, I heard a few friends say they used their husband/fiancé/boyfriend as a "punching bag". Ouch. Ok, not literally...but emotionally. And every time, the guy gives them space and they talk it out and all is good. But WHY do we do this in the first place?

I think it is instilled in us at a young age that we should not show weakness, and somewhere along the way we equated weakness with crying and sadness.  This makes us scared of being depressed, feeling lonely, and talking about emotion too soon. We are told to "guard our hearts" and "be strong" and there's "no use crying over spilled milk". There's not? I think its calling coping and dealing with shit that happens in our lives. Because life is hard sometimes.

Maybe I'm just getting older. And realizing in this short life, things are worth crying over. Sometimes, that's all you can do.

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This past weekend I went home. Sometimes I feel suffocated by the city. The demanding life of the city wears on me. I am not good at saying no, sitting still or being alone. Which makes living in the city a perfect place for an extroverted young adult like myself. Or maybe it makes it the worst place for me. I hide here in the busyness, in the activities, in the food and drink.

I don't think being busy is bad. I think its good, and like my last post explained, it is important. But I think when you get to the point where you "have to get out" and "just need to go home", I think you've let the city infiltrate you, crush you with its weight of expectations and, dare I say, broken dreams. I get to this point about every 6 months. I think this time it was expedited by the broken wrist, surgery and starting a new job within a month. But really, those are just excuses. Because regardless of my physical state, I get burned out more often that I care to admit. And now I've admitted it, and you know.

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My family yells. We are a loud, proud people and we want to be heard. I don't think this is bad, but sometimes it can get confusing. Our personalities are loud, except my mom, who is as cute, sweet and quiet as can be; but the rest of us.......whew.

 

So I went home to rest, and I yelled. I saw my little baby niece who is growing up way too fast and I love more than anything. She has fashioned herself with red hair and blue eyes, what a great combo. I love her, and I love my family. And apparently, I love yelling. But please, everything in moderation.

 

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As I write this post, I still feel burned out but full. I am peaceful about it, which is weird. I have come to find that life is exhausting when you live it with your heart open; when you chose vulnerability over isolation. I have been told, as a female, to guard my heart. While this is "smart advice" and I should heed it, it is hard to do. Because when I love, speak, listen, sit, read, watch, write, invite, pray, cry - I do it all with my heart. It's hard to keep my firsts up for that long.

I was watching a TED talk (gosh, I love them) about being vulnerable. The wonderful PhD woman said that we numb ourselves so that we do not feel pain, sadness, guilt etc. And that makes sense. But you cannot selectively numb. When you numb the bad parts of life, you numb the good ones too - love, vulnerability, happiness, contentment. You guard yourself, you heart from feeling anything when you skip over the bad feelings. So I just feel everything. And it makes me tired. But it makes me full too. And I will argue this point with my dear, big-brother-like-friend, John, to the death of the subject. But we will never agree.


“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” CS Lewis

Perspective. I don't love the right way or well, but I'm trying. I'm trying to give up the control of everything going perfectly. Of making everyone happy. Of thinking my life should look different than it does, or that I have to fix myself..to be someone I'm not.

I try, but I can't make you love me, if you don't.

thinking about justice

This weekend I met a guy.

...thousands of them, and girls too.  Now I have your attention, no doubt, good.

What I really mean is, this weekend I went to the justice conference in Philadelphia with thousands of men and women.  In order to process everything I experienced, I wrote a post when I came home Friday night, and another on Saturday and yet another on Sunday night after processing even more. I erased all of them. I don’t think that I have ever erased a post in its entirety before, but this weekend was a total mind F for me in so many ways. Its hard to process having all of the emotions of guilt, shame, sadness, hope and joy over the same topics.

I was talking to a new friend at one point during the weekend, and in passing he mentioned, “I think in song lyrics”. And my response was that “I think in narrative”. In fact, I have been writing and re-writing this post in my head for about 3 days. While I am driving or staring or when I should be listening, I am usually starting a new piece of writing in my head. Thinking through things.  When I hear about a person's story or when I replay conversations, it usually concludes in the form of a story. Weird, I know, but ask me how I remember your name sometime and you will discover my thought patterns are weird on all sorts of levels.

I was thinking about the conversation, and how thought patterns occur differently for everyone, in between being inundated with the harsh reality of talks on topics such as sex trafficking, immigration, racial injustice, and poverty. As I sat in the bleacher seating, I was thinking, writing, crying and these thoughts rolled over me almost like a dream....

And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?
For every stupid struggle?
I don't know.
I could buy you a drink.
I could tell you all about it.
I could tell you why I doubt it, and why I still believe.

But I can't say it like I sing it.
And I can't sing it like I think it.
And I can't think it like I feel it.
And I don't feel a thing.
Oh no - I don't feel a thing.
And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?


They were song lyrics (thanks pedro the lion). I think in song lyrics too, but also in narrative and in hopelessness and in a depth that makes my heart groan and stomach churn. I think, therefore I am, right? No. It feels like no one does think anymore. Because if they thought, I hope they would do. And no one does anymore. We hole up in our worlds of comfort and stability and we stay there. Or maybe, its not that no one "thinks" anymore its that no one "knows".

This weekend, the speakers brought to light a couple things to think about...

“Good is the enemy of great” - Jim Collins
“Everyone wants to change humanity, but no one wants to change themselves” - Tolstoy by way of Ken (iforgethislastname) 

“We can’t do everything, but we can do something”
“We (the church) are walking with purpose, in the wrong direction” - Brenda Salter McNeil

“There are currently 27 million PEOPLE held in slavery today” - Gary Haugen

“Mercy triumphs over judgment”
“The closer we are to God, the less we want to throw stones at people (John 8:1-11). God is in the business of loving people, sinners, back to life” - Shane Claiborne

“There have been 400 million babies killed since 1978 for being born a girl in China. Because of this, 500 women take their lives everyday there as well” - Chai Ling

“There are 11.5 million undocumented immigrants living in the US, 95 % of all the immigrants will never step foot in an American home”
“”The word immigrant appears 92 times in the bible, and it is constantly linked together with fatherless,widow and the poor, meaning we must help every group and not treat immigrants like actual aliens”. - Jenny Yang & Matt Soerens.

Over 24 million children live absent of their biological father.
90% of all homeless and runaway children are from fatherless homes
80% of rapists motivated by displaced anger come from fatherless homes
75% of all adolescent patients in chemical abuse centers come from fatherless homes
71% of all high school dropouts come from fatherless homes
63% of youth suicides are from fatherless homes
85% of all youths sitting in prison today grew up in a fatherless home


I think about these quotes  and facts from the weekend, and so many more and it stirs something up in me. I do not have the answers, and in fact, that is why I erased my first three posts of self righteousness and condemnation for those not “doing” enough. But I am encouraged to think, fast and pray about the injustice happening worldwide to human beings. The ones who cannot speak for themselves. And my hope is that out of these thoughts will spring action, not out of guilt but, instead, out of love.

And so I will leave this post well enough alone, ending with quotes, song lyrics, movies, and website links in order to serve every sort of thought pattern.




“Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.” - MLKJr

Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it's thinking of yourself less. - CS Lewis

This is what the LORD says: Be fair-minded and just. Do what is right! Help those who have been robbed; rescue them from their oppressors. Quit your evil deeds! Do not mistreat foreigners, orphans, and widows. Stop murdering the innocent! - Jeremiah 22:3

Oh, falling leaves should curse their branches
For not letting them decide where they should fall
And not letting them refuse to fall at all
David Bazan

Don't lose your soul as your eyes roll shut
Don't worry, it will be over
Hold on though, you're alone, I am there with you
That much at least I can promise you
You know what's to come to not accept this
Don't lose your soul, you must fight for each breath
Don't go quietly
David Roch

Your sadness it is quite lovely
But it is the sadness of a slave
Why don't you give yourself a rest
Give yourself some room
You can't get your arms round everybody
You cannot carry the doom...
AA Bondy

There is a design, an alignment to cry
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be
Love; it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
Mumford & Sons

"Why can't you be happy
You make me feel helpless when you get this way"
I said "I'm up to my neck in alligators
Jaws gnashing at me
Each one trying to pull a piece away"
Darling, you can't slay these beasts of prey
Some bad dreams even love can't erase
But in France they say
Everyday
Love puts on a new face
Love has many faces
Joni Mitchell

Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on

I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on
The Weepies

All it takes is a little faith, and a lot of heart - The weepies

for the visual learners
http://www.thelinemovie.com/
http://whichwayhome.net/ (movie available on netflix instant streaming!)
http://vimeo.com/54313053
http://libertyinnorthkorea.org/ (http://vimeo.com/libertyinnk/videos)

heyyyyy philllaayyy
http://www.workingfilmestb.com/  (http://neighborhoodfilmcompany.com/)
http://www.lcfsinpa.org/refugees-and-newcomers/
http://www.thesimpleway.org/
http://www.broadstreetministry.org/

i know you want to shop
http://www.tradeasone.com/
http://thembainternational.bigcartel.com/
http://yobelmarket.com/
http://befreerevolution.org/

get informed
http://www.ijm.org/
http://thejusticeconference.com/
http://www.npr.org/



GO NUTS! get involved.

the v word

8 long months since the last post. I must say that it dawned on me today that I might lead a boring life and have nothing to report.

I know I'm not bored, just boring. Thats how we all answer the question right?

"So what's new with you?"
"Oh, you know...same old. Nothing has really changed. How about you?"
"Yea, nothing is really different, I'm pretty boring I guess"
...and the cycle continues.

I cannot tell you how many times I have had this conversation. But is just can't be true. It can't be true because, well, I'm me and because I'm human and everyday there is something is new and different. Everyday I see a new building or person and experience a new Philadelphia smell.

The real issue is, as a dear friend put it tonight, the "v word". I had many guesses as to what she was eluding to....virginity? victory? veritas? no no no. Vulnerability.....duh.

No one wants to talk about smells, or a conversation that was funny at the time because of how this one person said it this one time in this one voice that they sometimes make; you know the way they say that one word. Repeating those stories never works...trust me, I have tried and tried. But instead, people really want to talk about life. They want to talk about what gets them excited and sad and what urges them to put one foot in front of the other day after day. Right? Maybe not, that may be too much for most people to dive in to, especially when they don't really know the person they are talking to.

The bottom line is being known. Everyone wants to be known. But no one really wants everyone to really know their faults. By default, revealing yourself involves revealing your flaws,  no matter how hard you try to hide them. When you become to known to other people, your insecurities are exposed, your weakness is on display and your heart is open for the stomping. And sometimes it hurts. It hurts in a way that makes your physically groan. I've been there. Recently. Everyday.

But sometimes, just sometimes...being known means real relationships. Not those fleeting kind that come and go. It means sharing life with others and talking through things that helps other people keep going when they think that can't possibly go another step. Exposure of your heart can mean growth, wisdom and a full life.

Being vulnerable is hard. But so worth every terrible, life giving, traumatic moment.

sleepwalking

I obsessed with the Civil Wars. Obsessed. When I come home at night I turn on grooveshark and type in "civil wars" almost subconsciously. Sometimes I don't even realize I do it until I'm singing along to Joy's voice and smile at her simple words and beautiful harmonies.  I listen to the words and the music as it fills my head and my room and I become full of emotion; contemplative.  Two things I try to actively avoid at all cost.   Last Sunday I attended church in West Philadelphia at a wonderful church called Antioch. I came home and sat on my back porch and basked in the sunlight of an unseasonably warm mid-April afternoon. I sat and listened to Joy and John Paul's harmonies.

Haven't you seen me sleep walking?

'Cause I've been holding your hand

Haven't you noticed me drifting?

Oh, let me tell you, I am

Tell me it's nothing

Try to convince me

That I'm not drowning

Oh let me tell you, I am

Please, please tell me you know

I've got to let you go

I can't help falling

Tell me it's nothing

Try to convince me

That I'm not drowning

Oh let me tell you, I am

Over the past 2 months I have felt the suffocating weight of drowning in this thing called life, and I didn't even know it. I have felt like I am 'sleepwalking'. I have listened to the repetitive and comforting words of song lyrics and words from those who love me and like water on a wet seal I have let them slide right off my back. 

The sermon this morning was about letting sin suffocate Jesus and the Holy Spirit out of you. Becoming complacent and selfish enough to test the Holy Spirit. Thinking you are better than someone else because you know the right verses to say and you are doing 16 different ministries. You know the motions, you know the words - you can fool the masses. I can fool many.

We sang songs about the Holy Spirit and we were told to pray, pray, pray. By the end of the sermon the pastor rebuked those guilty of spiritual pride and going through the motions of faith. Having an "us-them" mentality. He talked about stagnation because of too much religion. You get caught up in the motions, in the mindless obligations of the American Church.  With a pause and slight tilt in his head, one hand in his pocket the other outstretched; the words spurt out of his mouth like hot coals on my broken heart "God doesn't call the church to cuteness, he calls them to get down on their faces and repent."

I went home and prayed, prayers of humility and begging for grace. More words from the sermon came into focus. "For every one look you take at your own heart, you should look at the cross 10 times" Grace, mercy, forgiveness. 

"Too many believers are living in too much compromise" conviction.

Later on, I went to our monthly prison ministry at CFCF. The topic was the Holy Spirit. Joseph and Wayne talked at length about who the Holy Spirit is and I felt lead to speak about what the Holy Spirit can do. Fight. The Holy Spirit fights for you, you need only be still.

I feel exhausted and like I'm losing the battle. As the words of Joy Williams fills my room, "haven't you seen me sleepwalking?" The feeling of sleeping through life fills my heart. I have been doing all the work. The Holy Spirit intercedes and gives us life and peace. Be still, you need only be still, and the Holy Spirit will fight for you. Wake up and be still. Be. Still.

wake up. its time to wake up.

the waiting room

There is something jarring about a hospital waiting room. People sit in the waiting rooms with expectation. Whether its good news or bad news - they want news. Everyone wants to hear something. We are impatient people...

As we sat in the waiting room, anyone who walked by in scrubs got an expectant look. We had been up since 5am and the carbs from the bagels has long worn off. We were getting grumpy. They told us the operation would take 5 hours. So we waited 5 hours. And then we got nervous.

Others came in and out of the room. They sat, read, looked around trying to avoid eye contact mostly. Except one man, who apologized repeatedly for bothering us - he was just so nervous. He had no one to wait with him, his expectant looks went unnoticed by anyone but him. He felt alone. He was scared. It was his wife, and he was scared.

I was scared and I knew my mom was too. She spoke a lot, more than normal when the 5 hour mark had come and gone. "We should have heard something by now"...."do you think we should ask someone"...."surely they have to be done by now".

My response was a smile and a deep breath reassuring her that her expectant looks and questions were heard but they would have to remain unanswered. There are so many questions I can't answer for her, so I look around for someone to notice my stare. Not a single sign of recognition. I could only sit with the unanswered questions for so long.

I got up to stretch my legs. Took a walk down the hall. I noticed I swing my arms a lot when I walk and maybe I have gained a couple pounds because my ankles felt heavy. Should I be thinking about more serious things? Should I be praying? Why wasn't I praying? I started to worry - it was hour number 7.

I couldn't help but think everyone walking around today looked too normal. Didn't they know my Dad was going in for a major operation? Shouldn't they have perceived that today was a hard day on me? I am in a hospital, afterall. This was not a normal day for me. Shouldn't their looks and gentle smiles be more sympathetic?  Someone get me flowers, buy my coffee. Nothing.

I started to think perhaps this is how I walk around the streets of Philadelphia everyday. Head directed inward to my own thoughts, not thinking about how the woman walking towards me is feeling. And to be honest, most of the time I don't care. Because I am busy. And I probably can't help. And because she wouldn't care enough to tell me or talk to me about her private issue. No one talks anymore.

 The looks of expectation and worry in a hospital room are so much more obvious in their context.  Would I notice them if I were walking around Rittenhouse Square on a beautiful mid 70's Sunday afternoon while drinking my delicious iced vanilla chai? Maybe somewhere along the line I stopped looking around.

I sit back down. My mother looks at me and smiles, she rubs my arm and asks how my walk was. I nod, "fine".  When in reality, my level of anxiety about life and death and all of the heartbreak that happens in between has been heightened from a 4 to a 28 in the matter of ten minutes. Silence. I hear foot steps behind me. I spin my head more dramatically than I would have liked and startle my Mom. A doctor. My breath stops as if it's a reflex to seeing a man in a white coat.

"Everything's fine...he's going to be fine"......

Run.

It's 1:21 am and I should be asleep. But my head spins as I think of the days ahead of me. Decisions, plans, fun.

Pandora is on. "good to sea you" by pinback is playing. The words..................
it's good to see you,
its good to see you go.

are playing on repeat.

it's good to see you,
its good to see you go.

Followed by Foster the people, words repeat

run, better run....

I can't help but think its a sign.

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Tonight I finished Season 2 of the Walking Dead. Its a zombie show, and before your head spins with judgement and your mouth spurts words of disgust in my general direction, albeit under your breathe. Hear me out. 

On Christmas Eve this past year, my three siblings made me, forced me to watch The Walking Dead, Season 1, Episode 1. I was horrified. And vowed never to watch another episode, but before the end of the night I was on to Episode 3 and then 4. I was hooked, and so were they. They watch this show almost religiously as week after week humans are being eaten and the world seems to be coming closer to an end with every hour that I watch. But I was hooked. Every episode I watch with tense shoulders and a blanket covering my mouth as if to save me from zombie attack out of my television screen. I scream out loud and I cover my eyes. I yell at the characters and my roommates ask my why I continue to watch. But I'm hooked. I cant stop watching. I have recently roped in my roommate and her boyfriend so at least I don't have to watch alone. This helps me feel like the zombies can't get me. 

My siblings and I are very different. Very. Different. But for some reason, we all watch this show about the end of the world. It makes me feel connected to them in some small, strange way. I text them after the show and talk about what happened and see if they know what will happen next. In the midst of feeling like I need to run to escape the impending doom of the end of the world, I watch to feel connected to my family all spread out along the East Coast, the opposite of running. 

Most of the time, running feels good in the moment. But sometimes running doesn't feel good, and even when it feels necessary it doesn't make it the best decision. Sometimes you have to stay and watch the story unfold to feel the most connected. And I feel like that's what we were made for - connections, relationships, staying. 

I tried to be vegetarian

This past weekend, I watched Forks over Knives a riveting documentary about health and Americans. Needless to say, I have been scared meatless. Or so I thought...

I have always been one to respect others views, but no meat? That is just un-Amur-a-kin. Until I saw this movie and my views began to shift. With the recent severe health problems and surgeries my father has been facing, and watching all of our patients come in day and and day out with laundry lists of medications and the inability to walk without assistance at age 45....one has to stop and think about what we are doing to our bodies. The movie promoted a vegan, "all plant" diet. But like  Nicole I could not think about giving up meat AND dairy at the same time (only she actually did). I am not as strong as she is, so I thought I would start with forfeiting meat from my diet and being aware of the amount of dairy that enters my mouth on a daily basis. I am very aware now, that I am really good at having an all meat and dairy diet.

I tried to forego meat, I tried so hard.  But today, one of the patients brought in wings from reading terminal and they are just-sooo-good and I was just SO hungry and thought, "well, one won't hurt anything right?" And then, without thinking, I ordered potato soup for lunch....complete with bacon.

I am trying and I am failing, but I will try again. I will be healthy, even if it kills me.

thanks for today

Some days I feel like I have lived my life in a perpetually bad mood. Arms crossed. Eyes gazed towards nothing on the ceiling. Bangs blown upward by the audible exhale of my sigh. All of these things are going on in my head as I go through my day, whether or not they physically manifest themselves is another thing. Like all human beings, I feel beat down by the world, realizing my cynicism makes me all the more cynical - all internal of course. I can get caught up in the little things.

But then something happens. Something bad, really bad happens. Not "someone stole my pen" bad... but something like 

"my dad had major surgery" bad or 

"my grandfather passed away" bad or 

"i cant make ends meet" bad or 

"i lost my baby" bad or

"i lost my faith and myself with it" bad

Bad, bad. 

These things spiral my thoughts into reality. I am able to watch my community band around those hurting, those in need and those who are lost. I have watched as people pray, they reach out and they believe that everything will be okay because we are loved by God and because He sent us each other. 

I realize I exaggerate everything and I'm not always in a bad mood. But I have realized that I do tend to focus on the smaller mishaps of life until something spins my head - something like prayer tonight.  Tonight I listened as people prayed after arts and crafts, there were 6 leaders, 3 elementary school kids and 1 high schooler. We sat in a circle and praised the Lord for his blessings, prayed for his provision in the ministry and asked for grace and guidance for future weeks. But then the young woman in high school said:

Dear God,

Thanks for giving us today.

Amen

so simple. so easy to miss. today, tomorrow and the day after are not promised. thank god for today.

a mindless post for a heavy week....

I am burdened. This is an understatement. So instead of ranting before properly processing how I am feeling this week, I am going to post my favorite cooking secret that I have ever learned and that came in oh-so-handy last week while making a peanut butter mousse pie...

My roommate Emily is from Michigan...Holland Michigan to be exact. She really likes to bake and she is dutch - just like everyone in Holland Michigan...even adopted children from other countries are considered Dutch (i.e. Nicole - Asian, but Dutch).

Before moving out of Delaware I knew about zero people from the great state of Michigan....or maybe I had encountered one or two and I skipped over them not thinking much of it. When I moved to Colorado, I met 3 Michiganders and thought that was crazy. Then I moved to Philly and it seems like just about everyone I meet is from Michigan. As amazing as that hand-shaped state is, you all seem to be moving pretty far from it by moving here though.. (just a thought).

Anyway, my Michigander roommate taught me the best baking trick ever. Have you ever tried baking with peanut butter? The recipe may call for 1 cup peanut butter, but by the time you have scraped all the PB into the 1 cup and then scraped all the PB out of said measuring cup into the mixing bowl you are likely to be missing at least 1/4 due to PB sticking on the side of cups and on spatulas and in my hair....Well Michigan has brought us all the answer by way of Emily. If you need 1/2 peanut butter, fill a measuring cup up to 1/2 with water and then add the peanut butter until the water reaches 1 cup, drain water and MAGIC! You are left with 1/2 cup peanut butter and no PB stuck to the side. To demonstrate I took pictures of my baking experience last week.....please see below and be amazed. 

measuring out 1 cup peanut butter (1 cup water, 1 cup PB)

drained water, pb in mixing bowl and measuring cup almost all clean! I didn't even use a spatula

finished product, it was wonderful.

thoughts on crying, strangers and ethiopia

Before 2008 when I moved to Philadelphia, I never cried. Never. I mean it. I could count the number of times I cried in high school on one hand.  Okay let me rephrase that, I could count the number of times another human being saw me cry on one hand.  But I moved to Denver, and I grew up in many ways, both big and small. Then I moved back East, thinking I left the West behind. But unbeknownst to me, the west must have gotten into my soul in a way that unleashed the waterworks of my eyeballs. I started to cry in 2008 and I just don't think I ever stopped.

I have a tendency to cry at the most inopportune moments - like on the bus  where it is quiet and full of strangers, in front of boys who become paralyzed with fear and anxiety when they see the welling up of a girls eyes, while wearing make-up, and at work.  

There is something exposing about crying, because at least when I cry I know it is not pretty and I tend to say things I don't mean. Picture this...my mouth turns downward and the cheeks wrinkle towards my ears, tears stream and the make up runs with it, my voice starts to get really high-pitched and then all my words start to run together to form one-giant-run-on-sentence. I see the look on people faces, the look of utter concern and utter shock that my face could distort in that way. In order to break the tension and awkwardness of the situation, I begin to talk and say exactly whats on my mind, throwing "appropriate conversation etiquette" right out the window.

Over the years, I have realized that I tend to exaggerate things...including the way I describe my levels of crying. This past summer, I was talking to a friend and I while I was recounting a story I used the phrase "I started to sob" (using hand motions and all). He stopped, looked at me and said "Sob? Like really sob? Or were you just welling? Were there even tears? I think you need to work on your vocabulary". Ever since this conversation I have categorized my tears into: welling, tearing, crying, and sobbing.  This has really improved my story-telling skills, of which I need little improvement but I guess we can all work on life skills. 

On thursday this week, I was at work and having a pretty rough day. There were several moments that I checked my phone waiting for my Mom to call and give me an update on my father's doctors appointment and status of his surgery. My heart would race every time my phone blinked, beeped or someone called. All day - I welled. 

I went into exam room 5 at one point in the afternoon and was so deep in thought that I didn't notice who the 2 people in the room were. I set up the computer and was in the middle of wiping down the slit lamp, when the husband looks at me, smiles, and says "hello" in a tone of recognition and familiarity that caught me off guard. I looked at him and was equally caught off guard by who it was, a patient who was from Ethiopia.  He and his wife came here to have a surgery done. We met about 3-4 months ago and I talked to them at length about their work - missionaries in their home country. 

The husband looked at me and spoke in a manner that I couldn't help but think of Rafiki from the Lion King. He smiled and asked if I had given any more thought to the mission field and I simply replied I have, I'm in it. 

We spoke even more briefly about my father and the wife felt urgency to pray, and so, because I am obliging to patients, we prayed. She shut the door, I closed my eyes and she began. As she spoke, welling happened, and then tears and then sobs. The beauty of prayer from someone who feels the spirit and knows Him intimately is one that leaves an impression on the heart. They spoke with the peace, knowledge and wisdom of knowing that a great and powerful God is in control. I listened and surrendered to the fact that I am not. 

Sometimes when I am at work, my patients give me hugs before I leave. On Thursday, a day I was upset and discouraged, and on edge I received far more hugs than normal  and prayer from a fellow life missionary.  God is present, but sometimes I like to think all of my life happenings are coincidental or that I had some say in the way my day panned out.  Sometimes I think I have to give name to what is really happening - God is happening all over the place. 

leave

About 5 years ago, I left home.  I packed my things, moved to Colorado and I started this blog. I'm really thankful for this blog because I can look back on my time in the 'rado and remember how I felt when I was away from "all-things-comfortable". So that when I start thinking about going back to "all-things-uncomfortable" I can either get really terrified or really excited (depending on the day, hour or minute). I was looking back on a post from 2007 when I first moved out west, and I quoted Donald Miller because it was relevant to my life (having just left home)....as I re read it tonight, it feels relevant again, like I was supposed to read it again on this night, with this mood, and this mindset.....it feels alive to me again but in a very different way. Here is the quote I am referring to:
"It is interesting how you sometimes have to leave home before you can ask difficult questions, how the questions never come up in the bedroom you grew up in, in the town in which you were born. It’s funny how you can’t ask difficult questions in a familiar place, how you have to stand back a few feet and see things in a new way before you realize nothing that is happening to you is normal
The trouble with you and me is we are used to what is happening to us...........


We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?
It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you.

Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed."

~Through Painted Deserts, Donald Miller

It makes my heart leap and sink when I think about leaving Philadelphia. To think about what I have done, and all I have accomplished; the friends I have made from then until now. But that yearning to leave is still there...on the tip of my tongue, tugging on my heart strings, hanging on every thought. I wonder if it's because I am naturally a wanderer. If I will ever be satisfied. Sometimes I think the word "stay" is a harder concept for me to grasp when so many others love it and just roll around in it until their hands get all pruny.

I have stayed in Philadelphia for 3.5 years now. I have tried out "staying" and I think it fits me. But, ironically enough, the feeling of  "leave" never quite exits my mind and heart.  For now I am here and I am content because like most Christians the point is to be content where you are, right?  Find fulfillment in Christ and the rest will follow suit. I just always questions why then, am I always leaving...

blue to the berry

On Saturday I was in Binghamton with my Annie Bannanie. We went blueberry picking for the first time ever!! It was SO wonderful to just stop and slow down long enough to eat blueberries and raspberries (even though we weren't supposed to) right off the branches! Life the way its meant to be lived!

I had only one problem afterward....I had SO MANY blueberries! I got back to Philly and thought to myself...I always complain I can't cook/bake, so I went at it. Here is what happened when i had a lot of blueberries, a little bit of motivation and an empty house.....enjoy :)

music for my soul

The Weepies have a special place in my heart. They are and will always be my go-to music. Whenever I listen to old albums I start to reminisce about college. Road trips, lazy study days, cooking in the kicthen, cleaning our entire house and bonding moments with my best friend Hales. Recently we got to go to see the Weepies in concert at World Cafe Live. We are both out of college, working full time jobs in a new city very different from Newark, and she brought her husband along. Standing one row from the stage next to all the girls making out (it was very strange) I couldn't help but think how much has changed in our lives but how much Deb and Steve still connect us and make us happy.

So now I turn on their new music and although its new, their voices bring a sort of familiarity that makes me so happy. So I sit at work and I listen to the Weepies and just smile, sing more loudly than appropriate in a work type setting and find myself in another world. It just makes me so happy.

Today I listened to "Slow Pony Home" on repeat....but some of my other favorites include All This Beauty, Be My Thrill and Simple Life.

If you like to know my heart and soul...listen to those songs. I know that is a scary invitation, but it will be worth it, I promise.

Happy Flag Day!

heat wave....

Today is my "late day" at work. Which means I arrive at 10:30 and leave at 7:00pm. I am used to riding my bike to work around 7:45am which is nice because the heat hasn't had time to become oppressive.

Today I rode my bike around 10:15am and I wanted to die. I will never complain about being cold again. I actually really enjoy the cold weather, and unless its bone chilling, hypothermia cant get warm cold and I have on a bathing suit...I probably won't complain about it. I will simply grab a blanket. The heat makes me want to run around naked. Which apparently is "inappropriate".  I got to work and naturally, the first thing I did was look at record temp highs for Philadelphia. And what do ya know...this is what I discovered.

The best part about this is that Philly is supposed to reach 99 degrees today....breaking the record high from 1933. Congratulations Philly, my deodorant stopped working 15 degrees ago and I look like I just stepped out of the pool. I sure look attractive and my smell is out of this world.

puppy!

BEST PICTURE EVER!!

today i am......

...listening to Bloodstream by Stateless...over and over and over and over................

...anxious for tonight

...thinking about buying a new bike with a lil help from my friends.. (ariel)

...feeling blessed by prayer this morning with my girls

...excited about this weekend

I will wait for you.........

Who done it?!

LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!!!! This absolutely MADE my Saturday. As I was spring cleaning the whole house the nice little post man delivered this to my doorstep. SO THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

 Whoever you are :)

Keep calm...

I need this somewhere in my house/room/office/life. I love this.

I read it and I have seen it in Jojos kitchen and I have always been curious about it..so I read up on it...this is what I discovered about my new favorite slogan:

Orginally made in 1939 by the British. The poster was third in a series of three. The previous two posters from the series, "Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory" (800,000 printed) and "Freedom is in Peril" (400,000 printed) were issued and used across the country for motivational purposes, as the Ministry of Information assumed that the events of the first weeks of the war would demoralise the population. Planning for the posters started in April 1939; by June designs were prepared, and by August 1939, they were on their way to the printers, to be placed up within 24 hours of the outbreak of war. The posters were designed to have a uniform device, be a design associated with the Ministry of Information, and have a unique and recognisable lettering, with a message from the King to his people.

I just love history! Now who wants to buy me the poster?

...and we pray

A friend of mine, Esther, sent me this email from her pastor yesterday. I read it this morning and was completely moved and aware of how much we need to pray.

I copy and pasted the email below so you could be aware of whats going on in Japan as well. It's times like these that I feel so helpless and so unaware and so...we pray.

*******************************************************************

Geoff Bradford posted a prayer entitled "How to Pray for Japan -- From Danielle (formerly Guevara)" in the group Site Group:


Danielle & Matthias sent this to me--thought I'd pass it along. She was a liberti missionary for several years in Japan...

Dearest Friends,

Matthias and I really wish we could be in Japan right now. Oh, that God will use this suffering to draw millions of Japanese to Himself! I used to live in Sendai, the city closest to the epicenter and am still waiting to hear back from church friends and former English students. I used to teach an English class 3km from the shore where the tsunami hit and donot know if the students are okay.

We didn't know if beloved missionary friends in Sendai, Cal and Edie Cummings, were okay until late last night. Their daughter wrote,"After trying every couple minutes for about 17hrs, my brother Luke was finally able to get through to my parents on their landline. They have no water, gas, or electricity, but they are alive and their house is still standing. Their whole neighborhood is fine. They live far enough inland (8mi) that they did not get any flooding." The daughter of other missionary friends in Sendai writes, "Par ents' house and possessions destroyed."

This might be a helpful list of how to pray for Japan right now. Part of it comes from a message I received it from the PCA missions group, Mission to the World.

Love and comfort for grieving families

Rescue for those who may be trapped/ buried alive

Safety from aftershocks, which have been quite large

Shelter for those whose homes are destroyed

Wisdom and clarity for response of Christians in Japan

Open doors for Christians in Japan to share the gospel

Restoration of power and communication

To give some background to the spiritual condition of the area hardest hit:

The areas affected by the earthquake and tsunamis of Miyagi, Fukushima, and Ibaraki are some of the most spiritually needy places in Japan. With over 4.9 million people yet only about 9,000 active Christians (about 0.15%). Fukushima has the lowest average worship attendance with only 19 per church. There are one city and 44 towns with no church. There are 86 missionaries assigned to these prefectures.

One town in Ibaraki has over 46,000 people with no church and several others have over 24,000 people with no churches. Average attendance for all the churches in Japan is the lowest in Fukushima prefecture. Ibaraki prefecture has the least number of people claiming to have any religious beliefs. (Sources: CIS News 12/2012, JEMA Directory 2010)

Here is a clip from my former team leader, Michael Oh:

"Over the years I've often described our mission in Japan as praying and preparing toward the day of opportunity in Japan. In the back of my mind I've often thought of the possibility of great suffering being a part of the opening of the heart of the great nation of Japan. A massive earthquake or a nuclear missile from North Korea topped the list of possible devastating ways the Lord might awaken that nation that I love. This, perhaps, could be one of the ways the Lord pierces the darkness of Japan with His light (John 1:5)

Japan is the largest unreached nation in the world. In Japan they are reporting upwards of 1100 dead so far. Again, it is very possible that that number will multiply 10 fold. But every 11 days an equal number of Japanese (1100) take their own lives. In hopelessness they turn to suicide."

Mission to the World Japan team leader, Rev. Dan Iverson adds:

1100 killed= 12 day total of suicides in Japan

To put the spiritual darkness of Japan in perspective, Japan averages about 90 suicides per day. It is so sad that already 1100 people appear to have died in the earthquake/tsunami and that is making world-wide news. It needs to also break our heart that this very rich country is really so spiritually impoverished, with so many with no hope. But if indeed 1100 are dead from the killer earthquake, we need to also remember that a normal 12 days in Japan brings about this many suicides. But it does not make CNN news.

An exciting thought is that perhaps in these days there are more prayers being prayed for Japan throughout the world than at any time in the history of the world. What purposes could God have both in this tragedy and in the active response of the Church of Jesus Christ?

So please do pray. Pray not only for the physical life and well-being of the Japanese but for their spiritual salvation. And may the prayers of Christians around the world be used not only to bring the comfort of Christ to Japan but also as a prayer tsunami to break the powerful dams of the rock-hard hearts of the Japanese.