___ World Problems

As I sit on the floor in my childhood bedroom, staring out at the mixture of recent gifts and the things I've brought from home strewn all over my floor, I cannot find words to describe this feeling.

It's some mixture of discontent, wanderlust, and a light version of saudade, coming from a mixture of what I've been up to over the past week.

All year long, every year, I look forward to seeing all of my friends from high school around Christmas and New Year.  They're solid people, which I've come to realize in my 20-somethingness is not something found very often.  They're all over the country and world, for the most part - and here I am, still in the same state. There's the whole world out there, I'm young and able, and yet I've landed myself a comfortable 2 hour drive from my childhood home - while so many of my friends are out exploring elsewhere.

"You don't have to go so far to have adventures. You've had your own adventures," my dad tells me.  But that hardly feels true when I look at the lives of all of these fantastic people.

So there's that.

I'm currently reading Shane Claiborne/Chris Haw's Jesus for President.  They lay out this picture of how Jesus meant for Christians to act - and it's in their own community.  Yes, care for the poor, provide needs, act rightfully - but Jesus specifically did not go through the government to make that happen.  He called Christians to do it on their own.  Now, as a committed follower of Jesus and also a political nut, this is a hard pill to swallow.  But it not only makes a great deal of sense, it's Biblically truthful.

And my political ideologies and priorities are getting turned on their head a bit.  So there's that.

And then I went to the mall yesterday.  Bad idea.  I hate malls.  All malls.  Because I love things, a lot, but things aren't important (which I have to convince myself of constantly).  And when I walk into a mall it's a constant inner battle of "OMG THAT'S ADORABLE.  Wait no, don't!  Not worth it!  Probably made by slaves.  You don't ne...OMG now THAT'S SO CUTE!  Don't do it!"

But if malls get me thinking of anything, it's my own obsession with "stuff," and the unjust economic system that produces said "stuff" for the comfortable consumption by the entire US middle class.  And how I am a full participant of said middle class.  As difficult as I try to make my life by buying used things, buying fair-trade, consuming less than your average middle-classer... it doesn't ultimately make a lot of difference.  I'm not freeing any child slaves or rescuing poor women from sweatshops via my thrift-storing.

And then I feel like a prissy middle class girl with my needless first world inner dilemmas as I care about (but ultimately don't do much than throw money at causes about) third world problems.  So there's that.

Maybe I should move to a third world country and volunteer?

My Heart Breaks

Psalm 11:5
The LORD tests the righteous,
         But the wicked and the one who loves violence His soul hates.

Romans 12:17-21

"Repay no one evil for evil. Have regard for good things in the sight of all men. If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men. Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, butrather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. Therefore


      “ If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
      If he is thirsty, give him a drink;
      For in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.”
   

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

I feel like when God inspired Romans 12:21, he was thinking about how I would feel at this exact moment and what he'd need to say to calm me down.

The violence is awful.  The repaying of peaceful protest with brutality is horrible.  This is wrong, in every way.  Wrong.

I love that God is a God of peace, forgiveness, and love.  And at times like this, I really need that reminder to forgive.  To forgive those police, to love those who agree with this violence, to have mercy towards the media outlets that love showing this kind of news in other countries, but refuse to pay attention when it happens in their own country.

Peace.  Forgiveness.  Mercy.

Our God is a good God.  I couldn't be more glad to know Him, especially in hard times like this.

Reality Sinking In

This has been a week of reality in all its measures for me.

The joy of successful work, excitement about God, the treat of being among much of my college community, the homecoming of a housemate, new life.

The stomach pains, the stink of death around those close to me, the stresses upon stresses of work, the wearing-off of the novelty of this town, facing my beliefs through the end of the barrel of another's.

I feel as though I'm experiencing just about every aspect of life at once.  Life, death, family, community, loneliness, home, homesickness, healing, sickness.  All of it, all in it's complex-confused glory.

And then I read this great article on Relevant on the reality of our relationship about God.  Just as I've been thinking about ow complicated life is, ow life isn't just "good," and isn't just "bad," and it's certainly not "inbetween," this article hit home.  Here's the past that it me most:

"These ideas are not opposed and...they must be understood together. I must see myself as clay under the hand of an artist or I won’t approach God with the complete reverence He deserves. But I must also see myself as a child or I won’t enter into the safety of His love to receive the gifts He offers. I must see myself as a servant or I will not serve anyone but myself. But I must also see myself as a friend of God or I won’t trust Him. I must see myself as a sheep or I may refuse to follow. But I must also see myself as the bride or I will miss the celebration."


Leave it to God to make my life into an object lesson, and I praise Him for that.  Without it - this would feel like a terribly worthless week.  I am far from believing that He caused everything that's happening - but boy has he turned these circumstances into something beautiful.  Something that can make me understand.


Life is complex.  And ya, so is our relationship with God.  It's a mixed bag, it's the world we live in.


The complexity in life is not good, or bad, or inbetween.  It's just the reality.


Good thing the complexity of God is good, is beautiful, is far less confused, if not less confusing.

I can't remember why I don't live here?

My conference this week went well.  Really well, actually.  Everyone was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there.  People seemed to like the training.  We got a lot done.  People bonded and left in a great mood.  I was overall very pleased, pretty happy.  Content, really.

And then I got to Isla Vista.  And I remember how much I love this place and these people.  How much it makes my heart happy just to be here.  How very, very happy I am to be here.

I know this is just a visit, and a short one - not exactly like living here.  I don't want my college life back, and I don't ever want to live in IV again.  But after just being here for a day, my hands are almost back to normal, I am not stressed out, and I am so happy.

I had pretty good reasons for leaving, but I really can't quite figure out what they were.

And it wouldn't exactly suck to live near here again.

Who knows where life will take me next?  Santa Barbara?  Modesto?  Bay Area?  Another state?  I'm not sure - but I'm so up for whatever is next :)

 It's so nice when the Holy Spirit makes it first nature to be loving at patient with people.  It really, really sucks to turn it back to that when it's not your first reaction.

This morning started off just fine.  Made myself an americano, got to work on time, and everything was good.

And then it exploded.

Question after question after question about the conference I'm planning.  People are mad, people are unhappy, and that's all I hear. Issues with just about every plan for the conference.  And everyone is stressed.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I lost my patience.  I lost my cool.

I'm generally calm, pretty stoic.  God has blessed me with a lot of patience and peace, and I love it.

Where did it go?  In all of the bustle and frustration, I've lost it.  I lost my ability to be loving and patient.  Where is the Holy Spirit, nudging me to keep my cool and exude the fruits if a life turned to God?

And then I came home to a letter, on the fridge.  And it got worse.

I'm over it.  I'm so over it all.

And I've lost my ability to be patient and loving as a first response.  That's the worst part.

God: the Master Gardener

God is crazy creative.  I love how all of like is a parable that points us towards him.

When you add water to a seed in the right environment, in rich soil and in favorable weather, a beautiful things happens.

It grows. 

Carrots: one of my winter crops

 It grows a lot.

From a little thing, a little speck that could be lost in the dust, grows life.  Beautiful, green, life.  God infused it with whatever chemistry it needs to transform from a negligible capsule into a unique something.  A unique, complex creation that exudes life and breath.

It doesn't happen overnight.  Or even over a few nights.  It takes time.  Some plants take just a few weeks to mature, and some take months.

A big, bright zinnia, 4 months in the making

I love that Jesus describes faith as a seed that grows.  Granted, he doesn't go into detail about the plant after it takes root.  In this parable, he just talks about the environment the "seed" needs to grow: protection from temptation, from the tempter, and to be deep enough in the soil to get a solid foundation of roots.

But what then comes next?  It has to grow more if it will be any good, if it will produce fruit, flowers, or more seeds.

It has to fight of the pests that would like to eat it (like temptation, it will never go away).

My baby snow peas; they survived an attack by snails :)

It has to have the room to grow roots (weeds can so easily overshadow it, block it from the sun, steal its water and nutrients - like our worldly desires for power, sex, and money).

It has to be pruned so it will produce good fruits or flowers - taking out the dead, dying, and weak parts to allow the energy to go to the good parts.

This marigold plant is wasting its energy on all of those dead flowers, and this new bud - which usually takes just a few days to emerge - has taken weeks.

It has to fight of disease (weariness?), it has to get plenty of water and sun (like food - spiritual food in the Bible, teaching, and prayer), and it needs some good organic matter in the soil to give it the nutrients it needs (like we need a pick-me-up from the rest that God so brilliantly designed for us).

And did you know, some plants need others nearby to pollinate.  It's not incredibly likely that corn will pollinate itself.  Stalks of corn depend on the wind to blow its pollen onto another corn plant - which means the pollen needed to make the corn grow is often blown away from the baby ears of corn on the plant it originated from.  It has to be plants in blocks of rows because it relies on the other's pollen.  It's like community.

Okay, peppers don't need community.  But look at all of the cute peppers hanging out together :)

I have to say, I never thought I'd learn so much about God by gardening.  I swear, every day I go out to my garden, I feel like I finally "get" a parable or an image from the Bible or something new about who God is and the earth He created.

He's a pretty cool fella with very fun ways of getting his point across.

Running Youth

It's fleeing.

I last saw it 4 or so years ago.

4 years ago, I was confused.  My hand hurt.  Why did it hurt?  I hadn't knocked it, I hadn't bumped it.  Had I done something in my sleep?  Why was it so swollen and why did it hurt so bad?

Doctor 1 wasn't so sure.  Maybe it was a sprain?  I should see a specialist.

Specialist 1 wasn't so sure.  Wear a splint, he said.  Do some tests, he said.  Take it easy.

Then I got this weird back pain.  Bad back pain.  I-couldn't-move-without-crying back pain.

Doctor 2 wasn't so sure.  Take some Vicodin, he said.  And see the physical therapist.

I took the tests, I saw the right people.  No clues, no evidence.

More tests, Specialist 1 said.  An MRI, he said.  So I dragged myself to the lab with the big machine, and I laid there with my arm stretched way above my head for an hour or so.

Oh, that's funny.  "You should see Specialist 2," Specialist 1 said.

Specialist 2 was a nice man.  I liked specialist 2.  And he made things clear.

"Psoriatic arthritis."  Arthritis with the bonus of psoriasis.  I'd need treatment.  Serious treatment.

And that's when it ran away.

I had to switch to Specialist 3.  He was nice.  He was conservative.  And had terrible taste in art.

His treatments didn't work.

I went back to Specialist 2.  For a year or more.  His treatment was better.  His receptionist made me feel cared for.

His treatment makes me violently ill when I'm in the sun for more than 15 minutes.  But I wasn't in pain.

Then I moved, into a new town and into the offices of Doctor 3 and Specialist 4.

I don't trust Specialist 4.  But my options are few and I went anyhow.

He gave me shots.  Painful shots, shots that I made my medic-in-training friend administer to me, because I'm way to squeamish to do it myself.

And then I went to Specialist 5.  When my psoriasis was getting so bad that I wanted to rip my skin clear off my muscles, because I was pretty sure that would be less painful.

He dug a hole into my arm.  I don't know how deep the hole was, I didn't look.  But I smelled it.  I smelled the sweet-salty smell of my own flesh burning, when he had to close the wound from the biopsy.

"That's not psoriasis."

What?

"You don't have psoriasis."

Are you sure?

He was sure.  He was also pretty sure that I'm allergic to shellfish.  Or sharks.

How can you have psoriatic arthritis if my skin problems weren't psoriasis?  Why hadn't anyone ever done any tests like that before?  Why did they let me stay on supplement that I was allergic to, and never think twice about sending me to another doctor who might know more, if they were unsure?

What now, now that my diagnosis is unsure, and I don't trust a single one of my doctors?

I wish I didn't have to be a big girl all the time.

Bakebakebake

I love to bake.

My last house had a cramped kitchen, which made baking quite difficult.  My new home as a big, wonderful kitchen with a huge island.

Which means I've been baking :)

So far, I'm most proud of my peach cupcakes with Swiss Meringue Buttercream frosting I made to welcome my roommate Brianna back from her mission trip to India. I subbed 1/2 of the oil in the cupcakes with applesauce, and you couldn't tell at all.  And the frosting was from my Martha baking book, so of course that was a winner.

Yes, that is "welcome home" in some sloppy Hindi. :)

The smells of soil and mildew

My new house has been an adventure thus far.

It can't be more than a few decades old, but after years of college-aged guys living in it, it has the wear of a much older home.  Broken electrical sockets, spit on the walls (about 15 or 20 feet off the ground... kind of impressive, actually - and the reason we haven't been able to clean it off yet), mildewy old carpets, broken blinds, dented doors (I think the guys who lived ere used to kick in the door instead of turning the knob to enter the house...).  And the list goes on.

At least we have a nice landlord who is fixing a lot of it.

And the house does have its perks.  Mostly, my beautiful little garden that is doing quite nicely.

LOVE this basil plant.  It grows back like crazy.

My adorable little chives.

 Cucumbers!  I think they might have gotten a disease though... we'll see how they pan out.

Peppers, but I think they're growing too slowly to get any peppers before it gets too cold for them.

Lettuce!  I had my first little harvest today, so they can grow me some more :)

<3 my Marigolds

And Zinnias!

Corn!

The house also come with some nice yard bonuses, like these lovely little flowers, and a huge plum tree:

Also we live about a 5 minute walk from some delicious wild blackberry bushes.

Also I've been able to decorate a bit.

Also we have nice friends who take care of us and fix things :)

Ah, this house.  Both terrifyingly janky and wonderfully awesome.

Updating, finally!

Hey there lovelies :)

It's been a while!  Whoops.  I now keep up a blog for work, and so I forget that I have my own blog to update.

So, so much has changed in the last two months.  I moved into a wonderful new home with some friends from church, I started leading a Life Group (Bible study) at my church, I started an organic garden, almost all of the other members at my organization have ended their terms, and I'm gearing up for a position change at my organization in a little over a month.

I'll have to update more soon.  But basically, life is good.

Oh, other than my general frustration about how things tend to work out in this country.  I love America, but nonsense like this drives me crazy: the Supreme Court passing up a case basically because too many female employees were mistreated by WalMart.  Nonsense.

Cigarette Smoke and Terrible Situations

Most mornings, I walk out my front door and am greeted with fresh, crisp Sonoma air.  Full of the smells of moisture, pollens, plants, and animals that reside in the creek about 30 feet away and all about the county.  It's a nice way to greet the morning.

Some mornings, I walk out and immediately greeted with wafts of smoke from my neighbor Leanore's cigarettes.  I smells like my grandmother did, so I don't mind.  And in some ways, Leanore reminds me of my grandmother.  She's spunky, she speaks her mind.  Now, that smell of smoke means I get a nice conversation with Leanore as I walk towards my getaway.  We've talked relationships, we've talked work, we've talked politics.  Just about everywhere you can go in a nice neighborly conversation.

Easter morning was rushed.  I was late to celebrate with my church just how cool Jesus is.  In my mixed-confused culture, I only care about being late insomuch as others care, so I try to be on time - even though to be frank, it doesn't matter to me too much.  So I walked in a hurry out the door to quite the unusual situation.

It smells like smoke.  There are tears in Leanore's eyes.  It's not a triumphal day for her.

Her son-in-law died, suddenly, a few days before.  She's concerned for her grandchildren, for her daughter, for his family.  A couple of neighbors also come by to talk, but clearly don't want to be there.  After some conversation, after the subject changed a few times from the death and the family, I excused myself to go to church.  I think I made the wrong choice, but I did leave.

There aren't words.

What do you say when someone is experiencing such a close death on the anniversary of the rising that in one fell swoop, saved humanity - if only they accept that?  I don't think he knew Jesus.  I'm certain Leanore doesn't.

There just aren't words.

This week has brought a new experience walking out the door: cherry cigars.  Leanore's son-in-law was also best friends with a guy a couple doors down.  This week he's spent a lot of time outside, smoking cherry cigars.  Days in a row, I've found him in front of his house, in front of Leanore's house, in front of another neighbors.  Always with the distinct scent of that smoke.

I'm so in awe of everything Jesus did and is doing and all of the promises of what will come.  I love my God deeply.  But being in a neighborhood mourning two losses in the last 6 months, the awe turns into a funny little cocktail of thankfulness and pother.

There's no end here.  Because they're still living it all.

It's not Friday. And this isn't Santa Barbara.

No, despite that terrible Friday song going through my mind, it's not Friday.  I have work tomorrow.  And then a long Sunday.  And then work again.  So I'm about a week away from a weekend.

All week, every day this shortened week I had, I was daydreaming of Santa Barbara and the highly fabulous weekend that I was blessed with.  Friends, worship, more friends, chili cookoff, farm, friends, a mansion pool party, my favorite church on the planet, pancake brunch and hangout like the old times, friendsfriendsfriends, boba, my 3rd favorite coffee shop, beach.  And awesome friends.

And this isn't Santa Barbara.  It's far from it.

I don't dislike it here, but nothing quite compares with that fabulous home I knew for four years :)

Ah, what a great weekend it was.  All that fun is thankfully enough to propel me through this non-weekend I have coming my way.

Wrestlessness

I feel like running away.

Every time I start to get comfortable, a small but strong sense of strange restlessness begins.

What if I just drive up to Washington?  Straight into the beautiful wilderness and exquisite cities there.  Leave everything here behind and start something new?  Something great.  Something big.  Something freeing.

That whole thought flashes through my mind as a feeling in less than a second, and as quickly as it came, my sanity turns it back around.  Of course I can't leave.  Of course I don't even want to leave.  The friends, the familiarity, the skills I'm all building - I love all that.

Right?

Maybe it's a part of who I am, because this is all very familiar.  Every time anything settles at all, I feel this.  Exactly this.  Like something deep down isn't okay with normalcy, like the rest of me is.  Like something in me needs to stretch it's cramped legs and take a run through the great unknown to be satisfied.  Like something just can't quite handle sitting still or focusing or breathing for an extended period of time.

And like usual, this strange feeling will pass in a week or so and I'll move on.  

Because afterall, I don't even know what I'd be running from.  

A Restorer of Streets with Dwellings, A Repairer of Broken Walls

(Isaiah 58:12)

Isaiah is by far my favorite book.  Not just of the Bible, but of everything.

Full of toil, full of truth, of power, of hope.  Of promises - promises that have come to pass, and promises that will come to pass.  Of justice for the poor, justice for the broken.  Of the most beautiful, profound, magnificent savior.  Of rebuking and of encouragement, just about hand in hand.

I wish I didn't get so angry.  Injustice makes me very angry.  Corruption makes me so very, devastatingly angry.

I don't know what happened, but since I got back from Peru I just can't stop being angry when I see the oppressed, when I see needless death and sickness and neglect, senseless poverty and hunger, unjust homelessness.  When I see businesses purchasing unjust laws with millions of dollars.  In fact, just thinking about it makes me want to scream, to throw something.  It makes me restless.

It makes me useless, as I sit and writhe in anger and frustration and am, in the end, paralyzed in my passion.

Really, what I want to be is a restorer and a repairer.  I want to use my passion in constructive ways.

What a challenging encouragement: "do away with the yoke of oppression, [do away] with the pointing finger and malicious talk... spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed." (Isaiah 58, obviously with emphasis added)

And for me that says: "Shut up, stop complaining, stop judging, stop blaming - just stop.  And just do what you know is right.  Toil for what you know is right.  Toil in the way you wish everyone else toiled for what is right."


I know God will restore, God is the only one who does true transformation in anyone/anything, and God's the only one with the proven power to truly turn things around. And he is doing all those things.  He has, and he will continue to do those things.  And honestly, that's the only hope I have.

But he asks us to join in.  He asks me to join in.  And stop boiling in the corner.  I need to stop just being angry.

I just love Isaiah.

The Resolution for a Girl who Hates Resolutions

So I don't really do New Year's Resolutions.  It's the big national joke that no one keeps any... and I'm no different than anyone else.  Picking an otherwise arbitrary day to list all the things you'd like to change and decide to do it all at once?  It hardly even makes any sense.  All actual decisions for change in my life have sprouted organically after an actual desire to change something specific, not because I pulled some ill-thought idea out of nowhere.

Well, if my pastor just didn't crush my own resolution to not have a resolution.  

(oh yes, the irony almost hurts)

The whole reason I landed at my current church is because I could tell I would be challenged in my faith there.  I know that one of my downfalls is to be complacent in my faith if there isn't anyone to challenge, at least a little.  And, I'm so glad my first impression was right.

Two weeks ago (a week an a half?  who's counting?)  Pastor Ron gave a sermon of faith to start a new sermon series.  He made the analogy of faith as having 4 "levels."  It was cheesy.  And pretty simple.  

But it spoke truth straight into my life, loud and clear.  Basically, God's just not the center of my life, and I'm not seriously committed to growing in my faith.  Agh.  A half a year after leaving InterVarsity, from my community, from a life where I lived for God and was growing in my faith... I've actually taken a step or two backward.

And the challenge of the message?  Commit to growing to the next level of faith this year.  It's so cheesy that I might actually need to rephrase it to hold onto it, but until then my commitment is loud and clear:  I will grow to level 4 in 2011: "Christ-Centered."

Here's the description of Level 4 that separates it from others, as per handy sermon notes:

• Passionate about connecting with Christ on a personal basis most days
• Willing to make significant sacrifices for His kingdom
• Thoughts/concerns about His kingdom dominate most days

So, I have a resolution for the year.  And it's one I'm quite [excited, nervous, happy] about, and one that will actually stick.

So of course I've turned to my arsenal of IV Press books.  To get inspiration and further challenge for growing in my faith I've turned to Faith on the Edge: a book I've attempted to read multiple times but haven't actually made it through.

So here's to the best year ever and the best resolution I've ever had :)

MLK : The Best 12-Hour Work Day

In my office, MLK Day means many things: service, compassion, justice, heroism...

...and a (quite enjoyable) 12-hour+ workday for everyone.

Every year, MLK celebration night at my organization consists of about 3 hours of acts, poems, and songs performed by hundreds of kids from the after school program.  It was adorable and actually quite inspiring to see all those kids relaying what they knew about civil rights and their feelings about it. 

Putting on this great affair for children and parents takes a ton of hands from the staff and AmeriCorps members - people who have been working since 8:30 (or earlier), who are there to make it all happen until the last bit of spilled coffee ad cookie is picked up off the gymnasium floor around 9 pm.  

And no one was grumpy, I didn't hear a singe person complain - in fact, everyone seemed quite pleased to be there - including the entire audience, from what I saw.  Even the parents who came straight from work with hungry kids who hadn't had a chance to have dinner yet.  Even the man I accidentally sent in the wrong direction to a water fountain who spent 10 or so minutes looking for it.  A handful of kids even smiled at me joyfully when I had to turn them away at the refreshment bar because the only hot beverage we had was coffee.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of getting 100s of kids on and off a stage and shuffling 100s of parents and siblings in and out of an auditorium and not having enough refreshments and the iPod dock not working correctly and the translators showing up late... I saw no one who was upset (other than a couple of kids who dropped their cookies, that is).

Isn't that how it should be?  No one taking themselves too seriously, people enjoying being together, seeing kids perform, celebrating some of the richness of our history and the idea that it's not okay to treat anyone wrongly, we should all serve one another, and everyone should be able to be friends.

Above all I think I learned last night that I love, lovelovelove, working with people who are so happy to serve.  Isn't that, afterall, how God intends it?   

We were made free to serve one another in love (Galatians 5:13)  :)

What are your plans for MLK Day on Monday?  Consider using your day off to serve someone else.

Goodbye : Hello

Dear 2010,


Thanks for everything.  Really, it's been wonderful.  


You gave me the most wonderful community, saw me graduate, took me to Peru and showed me just how wonderful God really is, gave me the best 1.5 months I've ever had in SB, a new job (ish) that I love, and caught me up with some wonderful old friends.  Oh, how I loved you so.


Even despite the whole passing out in a Peruvian hospital thing, the whole changing my life plans thing, and all the stress around school, graduation, and moving twice, I think you were wonderful.


But I'm moving onto your more attractive younger brother, 2011.  He's just so exciting, and I can't wait for what he has in store for me.


Thanks for the sweet ride,


Lauren



Dear 2011,


I'm so stoked!  I cant wait to pursue my passions, learn how to live my post-college life to the fullest, and grow closer with God.


I just know you'll be epic.


Love,


Lauren