"Give me enough food to live on,
neither too much nor too little.
If I'm too full, I might get independent,
saying, 'God? Who needs him?'
If I'm poor, I might steal
and dishonor the name of my God."
[Prov. 30:8-9, the Message]

It gets this way; you don't know how to fix all the problems, so you start wondering why you're even trying to do anything, anything at all. I know Marlon feels this way. He sits with the same guys, with the same addictions, dismissing him in the same manner, day after day, week after week, and year after year. The story doesn't change much. He can make the call, he can get him into rehab. He has the connections to help this person not only move toward freedom from addiction, but also find housing, clothes, and job skills. Marlon has these connections. And still they refuse. Oh, there is the occasional (in every sense of the word) positive response. Clean for a few months. Abstinent for a few weeks. But it's a heart condition, and this is what Marlon knows, this is what we know, this is what we want all to know. That you don't have to live in bondage.

But still, the man at the car wash, who lives with the shakes, drinks hydrogen peroxide because it's cheap and somehow gives him the illusion that it's as good as the real thing. And he, day after day, refuses help, refuses to dial Big Dog's number, to let him pick him up and carry his burden for him. This is familiar. This is all he's meant to do. This is his "freedom," and so he stays at the car wash. He answers to know one. Yet his insides, including his heart, are slowly burning away.

Heavy week.

Ten children who I desperately wanted to shelter under the roof of my home, who were terribly surprised by my request for a hug, but so willing to give it. Do they ever get hugs? Or are they constantly made slave to the requests of their crack-addicted mother and tired and helpless older sister? What will happen to them? How can I stay in their lives? Answer, please! God, help us, ANSWERS!! Why, why, why, and how could this happen? WHERE DO WE BEGIN?

This is what happens when I think on it too long. You go through these cycles or deep grief, of anger, of helplessness, and too often, final retreat.

"This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing." [Matthew 10:42. the Message]

We're all just doing our best to make it through and shine our love heavenward and thus, outward to our neighbors, to our brothers and sisters, to each other, any and all.


Trying....

one month too long

gosh, I'm usually such a good blogger...

And I've missed writing, I really have. I'm having writer's block when it comes to songwriting, which really gets me down. Am I losing my ability to express myself in song? Am I just no good at it anymore? Am I just not inspired enough? I've had dry spells before, but I've usually come out of them by now.

I ache for another woman to have rich friendship with, the kind you go to have early morning breakfasts with and be really honest about even the things you dread being really honest about. I miss Aislinn something fierce, and I wish she were my next-door neighbor. Ah, but amidst those missings, we are experiencing a lot of newness here. We are making some great new friends and making new decisions.

I'm seeing money and possessions newly, too. Ronald J. Sider (author of 'Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger') has challenged me with the idea of ownership. The concept of God's ownership over things in our lives isn't something new to me, but I have never been challenged to take it seriously, to actually acknowledge and practice this. God's money, God's home, God's life. I mean, if everything "I own" is really God's, then shouldn't things be a lot different? Yes. It's actually freeing to grab hold of this. Difficult, but freeing. Yeah, so I'll let you know how that comes along.

Sleep would be good.... now.

This is a picture of the tornado that hit about 10-15 miles from our house in Memphis. Kind of amazing, huh?

We're here...

I really am happy being here in Memphis. So far, I really enjoy my job and the people I work with. Jeff and I are falling in love with some new friends, and for fear of getting our hopes up, they shall remain nameless--but we hope they like us as much as we like them and want to be our forever-friends (i.e., BFF). One of the guys I work with has a lot of the same values, theologies, concerns, and this makes for a hopeful time during my days.

We bought a[nother] car. We've been thinking about how it is hard to get around without each person in the house having a car, and so how can we reconcile that? Well, maybe one day we'll get to live with a couple of other folks, and we won't to have one car for each person, rather, we can work it out where we take the car at different times. It wouldn't be easy, but everything in life doesn't have to be easy in order to be simple.

So we're reading new books and having new conversations and watching our lives change. It is refreshing, and I am so thankful that God is so gracious.

We don't have cable, which is good, and hopefully we won't cave in and get it. Or at least, maybe we'll just stick to 13 channels--the cheap stuff. I mean, I like the music on weather channel, and there is something comforting about hearing the voice of Jim Cantori during a thunderstorm.

Seriously, come visit. There's so much room....

Oh, and if you want some outdoor tables/chairs (4 chairs, 1 table) then let me know. We left some in Hattiesburg and our ex-landlord is probably twiddling his thumbs [literally] wondering when we're going to send someone by there to come pick them up. Gheesh.


grace and peace for the journey.

From Here to There: The Journey of a Calling

:: Day 6 ::

Today was a little excruciating on the inside. As we were standing before our family at Court Street United Methodist, I felt as though my heart might scream, though I've been trying to tame it just so. Ever since I got the job, and officially decided to move to Memphis, I've done good work avoiding all the very emotional spots that I knew would bring me to the brink of tears. It's all happened to quickly, you know? No times for real goodbyes. [Pastor] Bruce has known for the longest, and though he's "ready," I don't think he's really ready to let us go. Am I even ready to let them go?

But, you don't really get ready, do you? You just leave a little piece of your heart with them, and take what you've learned (and boy, have I learned) with you, and spread it around to the rest of the world, thereby leaving the mark of Court Street on other people, even when they don't even know it.

So, we stood there this morning, as Bruce asked the church to pray for us on our journey, saying our their bittersweet goodbyes, I held it together [barely.] I couldn't look in the eyes of anyone but Bruce, for fear that I would really lose it then, bawling a little too uncontrollably! And I confess, I am glad it is over. I can't have my heart ripped out like that every single Sunday. Ever since I heard about the job (2 months ago,) I've been emotional every Sunday, thinking about what life would look like without the presence of this family I've grown to love. Ah, but there will be a new family of brothers and sisters. There will be new experiences. I won't replace anyone or anything, just add more family and friends to the email list and the "list" in my heart of those I hold so dear.

But a tribute, now.
To Laurie, who always had room for lunch on her calendar, and let us ask the hard questions. Who closed her eyes during the communal singing on communion Sundays, allowing the meaning of the bread and the wine to enter into a place I had never let it touch.
Bruce, whose passion bleeds over into everything he does, and always shared my excitement about a new idea, even if no one else did. Whose passion for reconciliation is evident in every area of his life.
Toris, whose gentle spirit is noticeable to everyone around him, and whose eagerness to learn and grow is all but bursting out of him. Oh, how I hope he is given the chance in life...
Tyquel, who perseveres and overcomes, and who encourages and believes, after everything she's been through, after everything... Who is proof that God hasn't left us here alone.
To Imogene and Yvonne, who love us with a love that warms every piece of your heart, with their good cakes and meals and good lovin' that everybody needs. Who have known the loss of a spouse, loss of control, and have gone to hell and back, and still come out smiling and serving their brothers and sisters on the other side.
To the Schramms and the invitation to share free food and laughs on their front porch, when I wasn't even invited (or rather, I was always invited.)
To JB and Mark, who never fail to deliver their hugs and words of encouragements, who love us no matter who we are and what color we are.

Court Street...... Oh, my how you will be missed.

Today wasn't easy. But the journey is full of tough, bittersweet, and joyous moments like these that make us who we are.


Peace to you, dear family.

From Here to There: The Journey of a Calling

:: Day 3 ::

The house is a wreck, which is to be expected, I guess. But when you live with the world's cleanest/most organized husband, you kind of get used to the uncluttered atmosphere.

I don't think I'm a very good box-packer, either. I mean, I get stuff in there all straight and packed well, so it won't break, but I don't know how efficiently I use the space. I mean, I don't want to pack it too tight and put too much stuff in one box, or something might break, or just be too heavy to lift when we are moving things. I end up having two or three items leftover from each box, that I couldn't fit. So there is a buffet of items in a line on the floor, waiting their turn for a box.... candle holders, a few books, a jewelry box.
Mom was right when she said that you don't know how much you have until you start packing it. Geezam, what do people do with 3,000+ square feet of house? Just 2,000 +!! More space = more stuff. No thank you. [Please remind me of this later on in life.]

I'm having daydreams of what my job will be like. Will I have my own office? Will I get to listen to my own music? Who will I get to have cool lunch dates with?
Something I am very excited about, though, is having in-office coffee every morning!!! Do you know how much money this will save? Shooooo, I am totally keeping my own flavored creamer in the office. This is going to be fantastic. I have, however, become a little spoiled with french press coffee, which is kind of superior to all the rest.

Kim and Clifton and Larry and all sorts of other people are going to be within spitting (well, you would have to have grand prize in a spitting championship, I guess) distance, and I don't know what to do about that. Settlers with Larry (he promised), dinner with Kim and Blair, cookies to our neighbors.

This is another thing. I hope our next-door neighbors likes us. Even more, I hope we like them.

Daydreams. These are what the days are made of.

From Here to There: The Journey of a Calling

Here starts my journaling through the week and a half leading up to our move to Memphis, TN, and the first couple of weeks after we arrive into our new house, in our new neighborhood, with our new (and old) friends, at our new jobs.

I could preface with a lot more, particularly some of my anxieties and questions and the conversations born out of those, but instead I will let them be revealed in due time through this blog.

:: Day 1 ::

We have packed 11 boxes, give or take a couple. The walls are becoming bare, and the guest room is becoming maze-like, as we maneuver our way in and around the ever-rising boxes that have nowhere to go but up. I like this feeling. It provides evidence to me that this is really happening, we are finally moving to Memphis. I'm not sure why I've been itching to get there so badly. Perhaps when I first left SOS (where I worked [and consequently, had a life-changing experience] during summer 2005) it was because in my mind, I wanted to replicate that amazing summer, but now, that isn't the case. I've been back to visit too many times to know that the feeling is gone. Michael Buble is now mainstream, and our choreagraphed dance moves are probably far outdated. At least half of the support staff is now married, and Larry is keeping the books. So things have definitely changed.

But perhaps what I've really been waiting for is the calling to come back to Memphis.

I hesitate to use that heavy phrase, "God is calling me," because what about the times I'm not 100% sure that he's calling me to this exact spot? Thus begins a string of questions about how well I listen to God, and my capability to screw things up. But then, I might be giving myself too much credit. Maybe a portion of Psalm 106 can help me explain:

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.
Who can proclaim the mighty acts of the Lord or fully declare his praise?" (v. 1)

In other words, who really knows what they're getting themselves into? Who really gets God? Who really knows the extent of our means of praise and our deeds done for the sake of the call?We're doing the best we can, following the best we can, hearing the best we can. And I believe God is capable of the rest, capable of using my decisions and job and our next door neighbor to tell the good news of the gospel, the good news that he has not left us here to waste away alone, to just exist. The good news is that the way of Christ leads us into a fullness that is much more than the aquisition of wealth and security. It is much greater than making a name for ourselves. It is vastly greater than this rat race that propels us to always move faster and harder to make another dime, to climb another rung on the ladder of society.

The way of Christ is found in laughter and conversation; in meals together; in songs that cause you to close your eyes and breathe deeply; in innocent children who cling to you for their very life.

This much I know for sure: I am called to proclaim the love and laughter; I am called to proclaim the good news.



"Those things that are of value to the kingdom of God, look like rubbish and a waste of time to the rest of the world." --Matthew Clark (paraphrase)