When worlds collide...

On most days, I thank God I don't have cable/dish/rabbit ears for my TV. I get along quite well, thank you, with watching a couple of shows online every week and keeping up with the major world events through Yahoo. And this time of year, most definitely, I'm especially grateful. I've been exposed to enough "Get up EARLY and don't miss the bargains!!" Black Friday commercials while at friends' homes the past couple of days to reassure me that I could live quite contentedly for the rest of my life without bringing any of that back into my peacefully oblivious existence.

I chose to participate in "Buy Nothing Day" today...a grassroots movement of sorts to attempt to take back this day from the mainline, media-driven, blindly-accepted, consumer insanity. While people are dying in the name of Black Friday bargains (yes, DYING--a WalMart employee was trampled to death early this morning in a 5:00 AM stampede) and getting injured, I stayed home, slept in, ate some Thanksgiving leftovers and started working through the backlog of snail mail/email/blog updates that have been piling up on me during the busy last couple of weeks.

And here's what I learned:

While people are mindlessly stampeding others for the sake of a $200 Xbox or an $800 50" plasma TV or an $88 Barbie Jeep or a $20 Hannah Montana beanbag chair, my C4C Disaster Relief (formerly God's Katrina Kitchen) friends Vickie, Vance and Ryan Weesner, Steve and Lezlie Anderson, and Mary Edna Thompson are serving those in Galveston who remain homeless after the devastation of Hurricane Ike (the mostly forgotten because politics were more important, but third most costly disaster in the US at $21 BILLION in losses). And Beverly Hayden, an amazingly talented lawyer-turned-photographer-turned-world-adventurer, is trampling through the garbage dump in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, handing out bread, apples, oranges, hugs, and love to the more than 300 hungry, sometimes naked and shoeless, beautiful children who live there in the midst of the stench and toxic waste.

A vast chasm between worlds, eh? One that leaves me feeling helpless and hopeless and broken and paralyzed...and wondering how the hell we got here. And if there's really a way to get out...or if it's too late to even have the smallest shred of hope that things can ever change.

Thanks, Alanis...

She's certainly been my "soul sister" in the angry days--there's nothing better than cranking up SFIJ or Jagged Little Pill and singing out the rage. But. Alanis has a sweeter sound these days. Kinda grown up and content and peaceful...even when life hurts. Kinda blissful. That's where I am right now. And, even though I'm not in Cali, this song pretty much fits my mood right now...

"Giggling Again for No Reason"--Alanis Morissette

I am driving in my car up highway one
I left LA without telling anyone
There were people who needed something from me
But I am sure they’ll get along fine on their own

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

I am dancing with my friends in elation
We’ve taken adventures to new levels of fun
I can feel the bones are smiling in my body
I can see the meltings of inhibition

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

I’m reeling jubilation
Triumphant in delight
I am at home in this high five
And I’m smiling for no reason

I am sitting at the set of cali sun
We’ve gotten quiet for its’ last precious seconds
I can feel the salt of the sea on my skin
And we still hear the echoes of abandon

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

Random gratefulness...

...or maybe "gratefulness for random things". In my best Erin-esque form (meaning bulleted, because I love it when she does that). :-)

• I spent the weekend at a church retreat. Not what I expected. Not really, even what I hoped for. But better than both. We talked a lot about what it means to be a "church" and a "family" and a "body". It would have been wonderful if more of our church family could have participated--many didn't, for a variety of reasons. But the ones who were there were changed...in small ways or big ways, but all in at least one good way, simply by virtue of the fact that we were acting like family. It was good.
• At the retreat, I got to hang out a lot with one of my oldest, dearest friends in my church family. He's the one who invited us to the church to begin with. He's the one who got me involved in Godstock. He's the one who wouldn't let me disassociate myself from Godstock when I was in the middle of my divorce. He's the one who listened to me rant and rave, let me cry, cried with me, prayed with me...and mostly just listened and stuck right by my side when things were horrible and sad. Our lives have taken different paths and we rarely see each other outside of Sunday mornings anymore. But we sat and talked a lot this weekend and I loved it. He's a godly man who's full of wisdom, but his voice is quiet and his demeanor is unassuming...and people don't listen to him nearly as much as they should. I'm so glad I got the chance to sit down and listen (again) to his heart.
• I'm cooking next weekend for a bunch of high school/college people. Which means I get to hang out with them. Which makes me feel young and hopeful. I love convo...and I especially love when it's at our church--it always helps me "see with eyes anew" to quote from my favorite Chad song.
• I spent last weekend in Texas with Chad. I needed the time away. I needed the time with my friend who likes to think he's my big brother. Actually, *I* like to think that, too. I'm grateful for our long, LONG friendship...never picture-perfect (hey, it's us--how could it be?!), but precious and affirming (almost) always.
• My job lately has been overwhelming and stressful and sometimes horrible, but I'm blessed to have a friend who understands and speaks peace and encouragement and integrity and desperately-needed laughter into my life and just diffuses all that stress and horribleness and makes it seem like nothing. Words can't express how grateful I am...I won't even try. It's beyond measure.
• I'm warm tonight. I bought an old handmade quilt at an auction years ago, because I wanted something pretty to hang on the quilt rack my granddad made for me. I needed something warm to take to the retreat this weekend and couldn't find my blanket, so I grabbed this quilt instead. It kept me warm all weekend and I realized how silly it was for me to keep something "for show" when I could snuggle up in it and feel warm and comfy and happy. So, I'm all wrapped up in my "new" old quilt and I'm so happy and comfy, I may start purring any moment.

Reading between the poles...

I've taken a little hiatus lately, because...well, because I really haven't had much to say, which is quite unusual. I took a small, much-needed vacation (really just a long weekend), have spent some time catching up on reading, and I've been working on "perfecting" my knitting skills (which will take a LONG time, since I'm still laboring over the first stitch I learned!)

When I got home Tuesday night, I had well over 100 unread emails in my inbox. I've been weeding through them, reading them a few at a time, and I'm finally caught up...that's a good feeling! As I was scrolling through the last of them today, something happened that made me stop in my tracks and really think.

I'm on an email list from Sojourners--a daily message containing a Bible verse pertaining to social justice and a thought-provoking quote from someone on poverty, justice, peace, etc. The email also contains ads for various Sojo publications, mostly small studies designed for home groups on a variety of socially just subjects. Today's email had an ad for a study on Christians and nonviolence (a subject near and dear to my heart right now, as I explore what it means to be a pacifist in the gun-toting, blow-'em-all-to-hell atmosphere in which our country seems to have found itself lately) and a study called "A Vision for Overcoming Poverty", also a subject I tackle every day--both in my workplace and out in the "real world".

Those subjects inspire me. To think less of myself and more of others. To do more than think. To give up that new movie/pair of earrings/book/coat and act more like the woman I say I am...that one who understands what being a "community" or "body" means, the one whose heart breaks at the thought of people going hungry or not having warm clothing for winter and shares what I have with someone else instead of thinking of my own selfish "wants". I stopped to remember how incredibly blessed I am here in my beautiful little warm house with plenty of food to eat and warm clothing to keep me toasty on cold days. I'm not "wealthy" by the standards of this country, but I'm blessed with more than enough.

And then I clicked to the next email. From MarthaStewart.com. An article, complete with beautiful photos of beautiful food, telling me how to have the most lavish Thanksgiving dinner yet. And decorate my whole house for the occasion with candles and gorgeous (expensive) fabrics and turkey-patterned china and all that good stuff.

Wow. What a contrast. Polar opposites.

My pastor is the former executive director at a not-too-distant rescue mission/homeless shelter. I read "Under the Overpasses" daily. The best thing I've ever done in my life is cook and serve meals to hurting people at God's Katrina Kitchen. For a moment, I pictured the two worlds colliding...perfectly coiffed and polished Martha serving turkey and all the fabulous trimmings on her beautiful china to the men and women at the Mission. Or under the big tent in Gulfport. One of those pendulum swing things...where do we find the balance? I refuse to stop believing that, as Shane says, "another world is possible". It's all around us. But unless we take at least ONE step in that direction, we will never make it.

But the poles are magnets. And somewhere, right in the middle, isn't there a spot where the two magnetic forces, working against each other, will hold a piece of metal in delicate, tenuous balance? That's what I want to see. I want to hang in that balance. Anyone else?

Don't feed the trolls...

...ahh, but it's SO tempting!!

In the past couple of weeks, someone with whom I'm (MOST unfortunately) acquainted but have never (thankfully--and let's keep it that way!) met face-to-face has been posting anonymous ugly, hateful, vengeful, rude comments on the blogs of people whom I love. I was also the victim of Madame Troll's vitriolic spite awhile back.

I guess I shouldn't be amazed that someone who claims to be a believer and spouts scripture to "back up" her crazy-ass rants ("crazy" being the key word here) would waste so much time (even as she accuses other people of wasting time online) attacking people who are "bad" solely by virtue of association.

My natural reaction is to go on the defensive and fight back. I guarantee if it's a battle of words, I'll win, because I know a lot of them...and I can use them well. But is that productive? And does that not put me right in the same category in which I've put her? And maybe worse, because she is, without doubt, suffering from some sort of mental illness--no one in their right mind behaves in such an atrocious manner.

I've never been a fan of the whole "WWJD" thing, because I'm never a fan of mass-produced crap, especially not crap that's supposed to "spread the gospel". Whatev. But in this situation, I have to stop and think about it. How would Jesus, if he had a blog, react in the face of such undeserved hatred? It's not in me to love this woman. It's not really even in me to have the slightest bit of compassion for the obviously wretched life circumstances in which she's found herself (self-created or not).

But God surely has some compassion and love reserved just for her...maybe someday she'll find the person in whom it's been placed. And maybe I can take a miniscule step (not even really a step--maybe just a VERY slight leaning) in that direction by not following the basic instinct I have to invite her to fully engage in battle with me.

This is NOT what I want to do, mind you. But, for the moment, I'm choosing to take the higher ground and give her that "grace of free will" that my beautiful and oh-so-wise girl wrote about here. It's tough, sometimes, to be a lover of God.

Oprah and I...

...have something in common. :-)

I've recently discovered Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, an amazing line of "aromatherapeutic" cleaning products--mostly natural ingredients (no ammonia or chlorine--yay!), biodegradable/environmentally friendly, no nasty anti-bacterial chemicals, and fragranced by essential oils.

I bought some of the basil-scented laundry detergent and all I can say is, I'm in love.

I've always thought it was silly for people to sit around discussing the finer points of cleaning products, so I'll just tell you that this detergent makes my whole house smell good--having a load of laundry on the drying rack is like burning a basil candle. And my clothes smell great!

When I told my mom about it, she informed me that Oprah uses this product line and talks about it on her show "all the time" (I find it funny to think that Oprah is one of "those" people who sits around discussing the finer points of cleaning products...).

It's good to know that Oprah has such good taste... ;-)

I'm a student!

I'm taking a photography class...and I'm pretty excited about it.

Tonight was the first class of an 8-week mini-semester. Dr. Scott talked mostly about terms that will be important to know as we discuss how cameras function. Tonight was a lot of technical stuff, which is exactly what I need to know. I have this amazing camera that I know can do some pretty amazing stuff in the right hands (its former owner was a wedding photographer) and I need some outside influence to get me disciplined enough to learn the "techy" stuff so I can make the artistic images I want to do.

I even have homework. I haven't had homework for 20 years. And, as some self-imposed "extra credit", I also have a really cool book on using light that Peck gave me to read. I AM going to learn this. And, after I learn this, I'm going to learn how to use PhotoShop--I have CS3 and haven't taken time to read ANY of the tutorials yet, so when I open it, it's like trying to read Swahili.

I know I can only rely on my artistic/creative nature so far--at some point, I've got to learn the technology so I can take full advantage of my creativity. I "see" shots all the time--I'm constantly framing things in my head, but when I don't know how to change my settings to take full advantage of lighting, etc., I'm doing a huge disservice to myself. So, I'm going to learn it.

"Andrew Peterson is my friend"...

I have one of those shirts. One of those OLD shirts from back in the day. Back when Andy looked like he was about 15 years old but was singing "old soul" songs--the words coming out of his mouth never looked like they matched with the boyish face.

He's still singing the songs of an old soul. And though he doesn't look "old", he does finally look grown up, so the lyrics aren't quite so incongruous with the face anymore.

Andy and I aren't really "friends" in the way I define friendship, even though I have a shirt that says he's my friend. I could count on one hand the times we've had "real" conversation. But he knows my name and, obviously, I know his. Our paths don't cross much--every couple of years or so at a show and we chitchat a bit. I baked him my famous chocolate cake once. And I think I made a lemon tart for him several years ago. (I know how artists are normally fed by their venues when they're out on the road.) And I'm pretty certain that if he and Jamie and their children lived in this town, we would be "real" friends--I know they would fit in perfectly with my little gang of ragamuffinish friends.

I'm holding a copy of his new CD in my hot little hands right now. (Well, not while I'm typing, but you get the idea.) I listened to it all day Friday. And I'm convinced all over again that Andrew Peterson is a genius. And by "genius", I mean "he writes songs that I understand". Songs that tear my heart out. Songs that remind me that, when no one else does, God understands.

Here's the song that I've played over and over and over the past couple of days. This is SO where I'm at right now. It always seems that when I think I'm finally getting myself back together, God shows me just how NOT together I am. The past year has been much harder on me than I've been thinking it was. But that's another blog post for another day...for now, I'll let Andy tell the world how I've been feeling. I'm glad he's my "friend". :-)

"I've Got News"--Andrew Peterson

So you think I'm something special, like I know a thing or two?
Like my eyes don't ever wander, like my aim is always true?
So you think I'm not a dirty rotten scoundrel through and through?
Lady, I've got news for you.

So you think that you're the only one to cry yourself to sleep?
That you're the only one who's scared they all forget you when you leave?
So you think that you're the only one whose heart is black and blue?
Listen, I've got news for you.
I might as well just tell you that it's true: listen, I've got news for you.

So you think you don't need anyone to love you?
So you think you don't need anyone to love? But you do.

So you say there is no hope. Maybe God is dead and gone.
So you think that he can't break a heart that's harder than a stone?
So you feel so wrecked and dirty, he could never make you new?
Man, have I got news for you.
I'm so compelled to tell you that it's true, so true: listen, I've got news for you.

I've got good news for you.

My love/hate relationship with FaceBook...

Unless you're my blog's RSS Feed Reader on FaceBook, this is a pointless post. I moved the RSS Feed box from the Boxes page to the Wall page and now it won't display until the application updates itself. So...I'm posting something to get it to do just that.

Technology just irritates me sometimes.

When the boss is away...

...the sluggards will play. No...make that SLUGS.

Before I left for the weekend, I got all the laundry washed and hung up on the drying rack in my laundry room.

When I went to collect said laundry for folding today, I noticed something shiny on the first shirt I picked up. And then saw that same shiny stuff on every piece of clothing hanging on the rack.

Every shirt was covered with the snot-trail of a nasty, slimy slug. That is about the single-most disgusting thing I've ever encountered. If you know me, you know that I LOATHE slugs...the thought of one of them in my house sends me into near-hysteria. It's really almost worse, I think, than the time I found the snakeskin on the closet shelf right after we moved into my previous house.

And the worst thing is, I've re-washed all the laundry, swept, vacuumed and mopped the laundry area of the room, but I STILL can't find the icky, slimy slug. I hope it crawled under the washing machine and died. Or maybe the cat ate it. I've moved the drying rack to the kitchen and am praying that I don't find more trails when I get home tonight.

Y.U.C.K.

Oh, people...please!!

I'm not posting the video OR a link to this because I flatly refuse to perpetuate the spread of utter nonsense, but if you really want to see it, do a search.

Someone sent me a link to a video on GodTube--it's a 2 minute clip of a microphone-clutching toddler, stomping about the stage at a church, waving his arms and shouting angry-sounding baby-talk gibberish.

People in the "audience" are clapping and cheering and shouting and (it may be the wielder of the video camera), you can hear a woman saying "thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus" over and over, as if this little knee-biter is actually preaching the Word.

There are about 70 pages of comments attached to the GodTube page. Some people think it's really cute and hilarious (I found nothing amusing about it at all and I love kids). Some found the video "disturbing" because the kid: 1) sounds angry or 2) is "entertaining" a crowd and disrupting a church service. And a lot of people (like me) found the whole thing disturbing not because of the child, but because of the crazy reactions of people who were posting responses to the video.

Aside from the semi-normal people who said it was better for the kid to be mimicking a preacher than a foul-mouthed rap singer (the anger level seems to be about the same as some of those "bad" rap singers I've heard, though), many people took it a step further and quoted scriptures and said this was fulfillment of prophecies about children leading in the last days. And then there were those "out there" people who swear the kid is speaking in tongues.

Out of a somewhat morbid fascination, I read about half of the pages before I got fed up and quit. It WAS quite interesting, though, to read the "people, if you really believed in God and were filled with the holy spirit, it would be blatantly OBVIOUS to you that this baby is saying: blah, blah, blah..." I think I read about 5 of those posts. And each one translated the "obvious" as something com-plete-ly different.

Don't get me wrong--I'm pretty sure God can do anything he wants. But. I think we as believers spend way too damned much time looking for demons lurking under every rock or "prophetic words" or gold dust or whatever, instead of setting ourselves to the task ALWAYS at hand, which is to just simply love God and let him love people through us. Certainly not glamorous, usually not very exciting, but it's WAY cooler in the end than listening to a toddler act like an angry, hate-spewing pastor.

A moment of pure, unadulterated clarity...

...in the midst of the murkiness of my life.

See, I've been (mentally/emotionally) chasing this thing. This thing that I've been telling myself would make me happy. Not solve all my problems, and, in fact, would add a "whole 'nother" layer of...well, issues, at least, if not all-out problems, to my life. But I've had myself convinced that this is what I wanted. Needed, even.

It's really a beautiful, good thing. The idea of it makes me smile. Makes me almost giddy at times. But would it make me happy? I've told myself and others that it would. I've chased it for so long, I feel like King Pellinore on his endless search for the Questing Beast. It's been a delightful hunt, what? (Read "The Once and Future King" if you want to chase down that obscure reference.)

So. Moment of clarity. Curtains pulled back. Daylight pouring in. Dispersing shadows. This thing is NOT for me. It absolutely will not bring me happiness. And now, with all this light pouring in, I'm taking a good look at my heart...and I'm realizing that, somewhere deep inside, I knew it all along. And you know what? This isn't another one of those "kill your hope on the altar" kinds of things like I went through a month or so ago. This is just another step toward authenticity. It doesn't hurt. In fact, I laughed out loud when I saw how clear it was.

Maybe when you let go of things that aren't really yours to claim, it opens the door to what really COULD be. Guess we'll see.

Not sure it fits, but I've had Andrew Peterson's "The Chasing Song" on my mind since my little epiphany, so I'm sharing it.

The Chasing Song
Words and music by Andrew Peterson

Now and then these feet just take to wandering
Now and then I prop them up at home
Sometimes I think about the consequences
Sometimes I don't
Well, I realize that falling down ain't graceful
But I thank the Lord that falling's full of grace
Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus
And you know that's all it takes

Well I wish that I could say
that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving

'Cause Job, he chased an answer
The wise men chased the Child
Jacob chased her 14 years and he
Captured Rachel's smile
Moses chased the Promised Land
Joseph chased a dream
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

Well, they say a race can only have one winner
And you know you've got to pull out front to win
God knows the only time I'm winning
Is when I'm chasing Him

Well I wish that I could say
that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving

'Cause Samson chased a woman
and he chased the Philistines
I'm not quite sure what Jonah chased
But I know he caught the sea
Cain, he chased the harvest
While Abel chased the beasts
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

And Jesus chased the moneymen
And he chased his Father's will
He chased my sin to Calvary
And he caught it on that hill
Saul, he chased the Christians
Till his blindness made him see
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

Tending to my knitting...

...because I'm not really up to tending to anything else right now.

I did some "real" knitting tonight. Several rows, as a matter of fact. It took me quite awhile, but I was actually starting to feel somewhat comfortable with it. I'm quite proud of my accomplishment, small though it is.

Knit one, purl two...

...or something like that.

I am mastering the art of casting on. I really want to learn to knit. I made a half-hearted attempt last winter, but never really got further than having 3 people show me how to cast on and making a few knotty, messy attempts. So I gave up.

But I still want to learn. So, I found a website tonight and got out the lovely fuschia knitting needles and tried again. It actually doesn't look too bad, considering it's my real first attempt.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try the purl thing.

And someday...someday, I'll have my very own hand-knitted blanket.

No more politics...

...after this. ;-)

Disclaimer--I did NOT compose this...

...nor do I (completely) agree with everything the author (Matt Taibbi, published in Rolling Stone) says. But. It makes me think. And that's what we should ALL be doing, instead of allowing ourselves to be blindly led to-and-fro by media frenzy. If you've talked to me at all, you're probably well aware that I am NOT a Palin-for-VP fan. She may be just lovely as a person, as a soccer mom, as a smalltown mayor, and maybe even as a governor, but she is NOT vice-presidential material. What I saw of the debate last night pretty much sealed that for me.

Let's not be swayed by emotion, people. I'm hoarse from yelling correct pronunciations at the poor woman. And I'm not a professional speaker, but when I DO speak in public, I do my best to lay off the droppin'-my-Gs-at-the-end-of-my-words so I don't sound like a complete dumb-ass hick. Of course, that might have been just the population she was gunnin' for last night. ;-)

Anyway...here are the excerpts from the piece by Taibbi:

"Here's the thing about Americans. You can send their kids off by the thousands to get their balls blown off in foreign lands for no reason at all, saddle them with billions in debt year after congressional year while they spend their winters cheerfully watching game shows and football, pull the rug out from under their mortgages, and leave them living off their credit cards and their Wal-Mart salaries while you move their jobs to China and Bangalore.

And none of it matters, so long as you remember a few months before Election Day to offer them a two-bit caricature culled from some cutting-room-floor episode of Roseanne as part of your presidential ticket. And if she's a good enough likeness of a loudmouthed Middle American archetype, as Sarah Palin is, John Q. Public will drop his giant sized bag of Doritos in gratitude, wipe the sizzlin' picante dust from his lips and rush to the booth to vote for her. Not because it makes sense, or because it has a chance of improving his life or anyone else's, but simply because it appeals to the low-humming narcissism that substitutes for his personality, because that image on TV reminds him of the mean brainless slob he sees in the mirror every morning.

Sarah Palin is a symbol of everything that is wrong with the modern United States. As a representative of our political system, she's a new low in reptilian villainy, the ultimate cynical masterwork of puppeteers like Karl Rove. But more than that, she is a horrifying symbol of how little we ask for in return for the total surrender of our political power. Not only is Sarah Palin a fraud, she's the tawdriest, most half-assed fraud imaginable, 20 floors below the lowest common denominator, a character too dumb even for daytime TV – and this country is going to eat her up, cheering every step of the way."

Worth quoting...

...from Under the Overpasses, one of my favorite blogs right now:

"I was married to fundamentalism until I cheated. I had an affair with God and everything changed."

The stuff that matters...

Okay, so I'm excited about the prospect of the Cubs winning a World Series Championship for the first time in 100 years. BUT. It's. only. baseball.

I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.

Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.

"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.

All together now...sing with me!! :-)

If you've not heard the news...

...the Cubs clinched the division title Saturday!! :-)

Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.

This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.

Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!

I. AM. EXCITED.