Some days are very hard. The days are hard when I give up my rights, my freedom for fear of what the person standing behind me must think. When I let those little voices tell me that I don't smile enough, I don't clash enough, I don't talk to Strangers enough to be really important. Those little, ugly voices that say I'll always be misunderstood, that the person that I am, the light of the woman inside this frame will always be hidden. That I ought to succumb to my fears of judgement, that I ought to conform to the wobbly assumptions that the people around me wish I were something else. "You aren't what people take you for," he said-- and that makes me wonder sometimes what people do take me for? I forget that the substance, the nugget at the center, is what bleeds out through the epidermis. That those (like most of us) who don't take the time or don't have the time to look past the shallow surface just missed it. How do you find the balance of the interior and the exterior. How do you avoid maintaining your heart at the expense of letting it be known. How do you keep your focus on what is really true, to keep track of the beat of your true heart, when it is so tempting to get attention through something that you are not. How often do I let my fear of what might be going on inside the mind of someone else squelch the thing that is going on in my own heart? Its a painful suffocation that sometimes can only be felt once the toes and fingers are blue-- long after the noose has tightened.
And so I have to go back, loop back around on the trail to remember what it is like to accept me for me. To be okay with the clothes I have, to wear what I've got because it has flowed out of all sorts of experiences that are uniquely mine. Even if they sometimes blend in to the wall. Even if sometimes I feel invisible and silly, worthy of being forgotten. It is that continual journey towards wholeness-- a reconcilation between what my heart really beats for and the fluid that filters out through my pores, my mouth, the lights in my eyes.
Being who you are in this world seems to take a lot of grace, a severe degree of give and take. An okay-ness with the few that do know, they few that see in and trusting that as life ebbs and flows, so will those hearts that move in an out of the crevices. How much is enough? Are we still so greedy there too? I don't know. All so many questions that often feel like dehydration that may actually be opportunities to hold on so tight. Opportunities to hold the tension. To be suspended in the twilight of things.
I've been contemplating the holding of small things, the idea that sometimes that thing we are looking for are right under our noses. I've been looking for areas to love, to share, to serve, and more and more it is becoming impressed upon me that often times the places where this is most needed is in those nearest to us. I get so focused on saving the hurting across the world and then we continue to ask the question of why it is so hard to love the people closest to us.
We think that love often has to be this heroic act-- an act of the Samaratan to the Jew on the road. I've thought lately, though, why is it that it is those who are closest to us, the friend we've known forever, the sister, the brother, the family, the old family friend that are the most difficult to really hold close? We overlook them, like missing the forest for the trees. And I've just begun to wonder if they greatest love that we can give is not to the person we don't really know, the needy, the homeless, but those who are closest to us. I mean, not that the needy and the homeless are not important, but just stop and consider what would happen if we started putting our energy toward really loving those closest to us.
Over the last few months, as I look back on the state of my spirit, I realize that when I am in an environment when I know what real, sacrificial love looks like and it penetrates me, I begin to know how to love in new ways. It is in those environments that I am able to love the best-- only when I feel safe and loved and accepted and cared for in my immediate environment am I compelled to go out and smile at women in the grocery store and say hello to people in my 9 o'clock class and look people in the eye. I know that there is a source of love and compassion and care for me somewhere out in the universe, holding me like a rope. Suddenly the risk goes down when I can love without the need for reciprocation.
And I wonder what would happen if we began to take those risks with those who are closest to us, to let them in even deeper, how that would change the world. That maybe the things we need to give away aren't always to the stranger, but to those who don't seem to need it because they are standing so close.
Every few days, my eyes become drawn to the small things in life. I am reminded of the importance of small steps. I am reminded of the process that life is, that nothing grand is every accomplished in one fell swoop, but only after step by step by step. And I have to remind myself of this again-- that I am only a sum of my parts; when I feel lost and inadequate and I appear insignificant in my own mind's eye, I still can only be who I am. I cannot be anything other than how I am made up. And our lives are only made up of the things that are. I can only be me today. And I have to trust that that really is enough. Its enough.
Friday, September 28
Monday, September 24
As I have delved head first into my education classes this semester, a lot of my thinking has been challenged as I begin to really get small tastes of this profession I have chosen. This week, the subject of my Schooling in the United States class is the matter of diversity in the classroom. I must admit that among my personal and intellectual challenges have been some realizations of my own biases, and I am ashamed to admit even instances of racism that I had not allowed myself to acknowledge before.
Our current reading assignment comes from Peace and Freedom, an article by Peggy McIntosh entitled: "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack," in which the article addresses areas where whites are given privilege within the system in ways that keep us from realizing our power over other races despite all sorts of lip service given to the recognition of the underprivileged. McIntosh outlines 26 points of white privilege that we as Caucasians overlook that people of other races live through each day. Take a listen to these:
1. I can if I wish to arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time.
2. If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing in an area which I can afford and in which I would want to life.
3. I can be pretty sure that my neighbors in such a location with be neutral or pleasnt to me.
4. I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed of harassed.
5. I can turn on the television of open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented.
6. When I told about our national heritage or about "civilization," I am shown that people of my color made it what it is.
7. I can be sure that my children will be given curricular material that testify to the existence of their race.
8. if I want to, I can be pretty sure of finding a publisher for this piece on white privilege.
9. I can go into a music shop and count on finding the music of my race represented, into a supermarket and find the stable foods which fit with my cultural traditions, into a hairdresser's show and find someone who can cut my hair.
10. Whether I use checks, credit cards, or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability.
11. I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them.
12. I can swear, or dress in second hand cloths, or not answer letters, without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty, or the illiteracy of my race.
13. I can speak in public to a powerful male group without putting my race on trial.
14. I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race.
15. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.
16. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of person of color who constitute the world's majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion.
17. I can criticize our government and talk about how mich I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider.
18. I can be pretty sure that if I ask to talk to "the person in charge," I will be facing a person of my race.
19. If a traffic cop pulls me over or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven't been singled out because of my race.
20. I can easily buy poster, postcards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children's magazines featuring people of my race.
21. I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance, or feared.
22. I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having coworkers on the job suspect that I got it because of race.
23. I can choose public accommodations without fearing that people of my race cannot get in or will be mistreated in the places I have chosen.
24. I can be sure than if I need legal or medical help, my race will not work against me.
25. If my day, week, or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it has racial overtones.
26. I can choose blemish cover or bandages in "flesh" color and have them more or less match my skin.
Just reading through these items made me realize how many things other people deal with that are simply not a part of my range of vision-- they are not obstacles in my life. The question remains, "what is it that we ought to do about this?" Is awareness enough? I don't know. What is it that I can do? Will it be my role as a teacher to instill in my students the values in others. Maybe it just means for me a challenge to move out of my own comfort zone, to see my tendency to gravitate toward those who look like me-- to stop seeing people of other races as unintelligent or unsafe (if I am going to be really honest)-- and move toward a life of seeking the image of God in people all around me (or maybe not all around me).
If you would like to read the full article (which I would recommend), it can be found in the July/August 1989 Peace and Freedom. Again, it is titled, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack" by Peggy McIntosh of Wellesley College Center for Reasearch on Woman.
A slightly different version of the article can also be found here
Our current reading assignment comes from Peace and Freedom, an article by Peggy McIntosh entitled: "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack," in which the article addresses areas where whites are given privilege within the system in ways that keep us from realizing our power over other races despite all sorts of lip service given to the recognition of the underprivileged. McIntosh outlines 26 points of white privilege that we as Caucasians overlook that people of other races live through each day. Take a listen to these:
1. I can if I wish to arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time.
2. If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing in an area which I can afford and in which I would want to life.
3. I can be pretty sure that my neighbors in such a location with be neutral or pleasnt to me.
4. I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed of harassed.
5. I can turn on the television of open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented.
6. When I told about our national heritage or about "civilization," I am shown that people of my color made it what it is.
7. I can be sure that my children will be given curricular material that testify to the existence of their race.
8. if I want to, I can be pretty sure of finding a publisher for this piece on white privilege.
9. I can go into a music shop and count on finding the music of my race represented, into a supermarket and find the stable foods which fit with my cultural traditions, into a hairdresser's show and find someone who can cut my hair.
10. Whether I use checks, credit cards, or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability.
11. I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them.
12. I can swear, or dress in second hand cloths, or not answer letters, without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty, or the illiteracy of my race.
13. I can speak in public to a powerful male group without putting my race on trial.
14. I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race.
15. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.
16. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of person of color who constitute the world's majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion.
17. I can criticize our government and talk about how mich I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider.
18. I can be pretty sure that if I ask to talk to "the person in charge," I will be facing a person of my race.
19. If a traffic cop pulls me over or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven't been singled out because of my race.
20. I can easily buy poster, postcards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children's magazines featuring people of my race.
21. I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance, or feared.
22. I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having coworkers on the job suspect that I got it because of race.
23. I can choose public accommodations without fearing that people of my race cannot get in or will be mistreated in the places I have chosen.
24. I can be sure than if I need legal or medical help, my race will not work against me.
25. If my day, week, or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it has racial overtones.
26. I can choose blemish cover or bandages in "flesh" color and have them more or less match my skin.
Just reading through these items made me realize how many things other people deal with that are simply not a part of my range of vision-- they are not obstacles in my life. The question remains, "what is it that we ought to do about this?" Is awareness enough? I don't know. What is it that I can do? Will it be my role as a teacher to instill in my students the values in others. Maybe it just means for me a challenge to move out of my own comfort zone, to see my tendency to gravitate toward those who look like me-- to stop seeing people of other races as unintelligent or unsafe (if I am going to be really honest)-- and move toward a life of seeking the image of God in people all around me (or maybe not all around me).
If you would like to read the full article (which I would recommend), it can be found in the July/August 1989 Peace and Freedom. Again, it is titled, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack" by Peggy McIntosh of Wellesley College Center for Reasearch on Woman.
A slightly different version of the article can also be found here
Thursday, September 20
It's Thursday night. I've written approximately 18 pages of single- spaced typed Art History notes in the last four days in preparation for my first test. First painting critique today. One more class tomorrow. Lots o f studying to follow. There are flying ants buzzing around my desk like unwelcome invaders, lost as they seem. I'm tired. Maybe a little too tired to put any cohesive thoughts together, but alas, I have had many many of them this week.
At the end of every week or so I find myself stopping for a moment to contemplate who I am, who I have become. I stop and look at the previous seven days and wonder who the hell I've been and how I got involved in this whirlwind that I have found myself in. Often, when I get to that place, I must ask myself if in my attempt to put myself out there, to stop hiding behind my observing eyes, if I have ever become insincere. If I have begun to get dressed in the morning for something other than myself. And I must ask myself if that person really even cares or notices or matters. I have to begin to ask myself if I have been accessible without being fake. I have to ask myself if I have tried too hard, spread myself too thin, got involved in too many places.
Someone tonight said this to me: Start with just one friend. I liked that wisdom. I've been working really hard to get to know the people that my life bumps into during the day, but my word-- there are a hell of a lot of people that my life bumps into during the day. I am discovering this little areas of balance. There are places where I have chosen to jump in, both feet, because I am tired standing on the sidelines, waiting for something to happen. But there are most times that I just feel like everything has become too severe, I've been blasting bright red and it is obnoxious even to me. And I fear that I have become too spread thin-- like going to school isn't quite enough so I have to do a million other things. And I'm not sure what to do with that.
I feel a little bit ugly tonight, a little mean and critical of the people around me. Sometimes I tired of being an art major and feeling silently criticized for the way I dress. And I wonder what it would be like just to be okay with me for the day, to believe that I might actually be free from the scrutiny I always feel but never quite hear outloud. I'm just exhausted. And I fear that somehow it is all an ugly blackness inside of me, that all of this judgement and thoughts about belonging are actually me, inside me, not coming in from the outside.
For the moment, I suppose that I will just sleep and tomorrow I will awake and prayer that the weekend will bring some clarity and freedom from all of this self-hatred.
At the end of every week or so I find myself stopping for a moment to contemplate who I am, who I have become. I stop and look at the previous seven days and wonder who the hell I've been and how I got involved in this whirlwind that I have found myself in. Often, when I get to that place, I must ask myself if in my attempt to put myself out there, to stop hiding behind my observing eyes, if I have ever become insincere. If I have begun to get dressed in the morning for something other than myself. And I must ask myself if that person really even cares or notices or matters. I have to begin to ask myself if I have been accessible without being fake. I have to ask myself if I have tried too hard, spread myself too thin, got involved in too many places.
Someone tonight said this to me: Start with just one friend. I liked that wisdom. I've been working really hard to get to know the people that my life bumps into during the day, but my word-- there are a hell of a lot of people that my life bumps into during the day. I am discovering this little areas of balance. There are places where I have chosen to jump in, both feet, because I am tired standing on the sidelines, waiting for something to happen. But there are most times that I just feel like everything has become too severe, I've been blasting bright red and it is obnoxious even to me. And I fear that I have become too spread thin-- like going to school isn't quite enough so I have to do a million other things. And I'm not sure what to do with that.
I feel a little bit ugly tonight, a little mean and critical of the people around me. Sometimes I tired of being an art major and feeling silently criticized for the way I dress. And I wonder what it would be like just to be okay with me for the day, to believe that I might actually be free from the scrutiny I always feel but never quite hear outloud. I'm just exhausted. And I fear that somehow it is all an ugly blackness inside of me, that all of this judgement and thoughts about belonging are actually me, inside me, not coming in from the outside.
For the moment, I suppose that I will just sleep and tomorrow I will awake and prayer that the weekend will bring some clarity and freedom from all of this self-hatred.
Tuesday, September 18
Just when I thought all of my self-induced personal probing was being pushed out by some apparent need for focus on academic learning, I keep having all of these intense bombardments of analytical engagement. Its like I find myself sitting alone drawing for three hours in class and all of these things come to mind that I want to write down, but can't seem to justify stopping for it.
But truly, being back in school, back in the throes of a 25,000 member learning community, the thoughts have returned. In all honesty, I'm not sure how to articulate them all here, especially considering I ought to be studying still, but alas, I suppose out of a thirteen hour working day, I ought to be entitled a few minutes to record what it all means to my heart. (you can probably tell by my writing that I have been writing a few academic papers. Sorry for the heightened vocabulary, but I am in the midst, afterall).
A few months ago, I was doing a lot of praying about who I wanted to be sitting here at this desk, miles and miles away from my desert of solitude. I began to see this passion awakened in me regarding what the kingdom looks like for my life-- where my little body fits into the big open sky that is that reign of the creator. I did a lot of thinking and praying about being a person who lives for the connection with others. I did a lot of contemplation upon my intention of learning to "love well" and how that will come out in my over-piled schedule.
I was talking to a friend tonight and realized that a major facet of college life is the near-total necessity to be totally self-absorbed. It is nearly a matter of death to be distracted from self for a moment because the treadmill keeps moving whether you are walking or not. It is difficult to focus on much more than your own feet.
But I am determined not to allow my life to be consumed with what ought to be done before I consider who it is that is doing it. Upon my return, I could hardly stop thinking about the opportunities to make new friends, to try out my new relational wings.
So, each day, as I walk through my classes, around classes, to the library, on the lawn to the north of the education building, the lounge area in Clark, the curriculum that seems to occupy my mind is what it takes to make friends, how relationships are formed, what it takes to connect with another human being.
The conclusion I have drawn entail the realization that making new friends takes a great deal of work, perseverence, patience, and risk. People often say in college you must be intentional to maintain relationships, but I think it takes even more intentionality to make friends in the first place. It takes bravery to take the first step, to put out my hand and introduce myself. It takes a great deal of stamina to overcome that seemingly endless period of awkwardness that really seems to fade as quickly as it dared to arrive and linger. It takes a lot of strength to stay seated when the intimacy increases-- more questions getting closer to the heart of things. Patience when you see the ugliness, the brokenness come out.
Despite all of this work, I have observed a shift in my thinking. I am feeling the breathtaking pressure of classes and papers and midterms, but I don't feel suffocated or crushed. I do what I can, but something in me knows that this is not the end of all things. I finished my first set of paintings today. I don't really know how the teacher grades or what he will even say, how the critique will say, how my peers will slaughter my work, but today I was simply able to walk away. I did the best I could. A little part of me feels the blood pressure rising as I think about the crit I will sit through on Thursday, but today I was able to say to myself, "regardless of what the instructor thinks of my work, I did the best I could. There is nothing else that I can do to improve without the comments of that critique." And there is something very freeing in that. To know that my worth, my grade comes from my ability to work hard and respond to criticism rather than what I already know before I took the class.
I also know that there is a lot more to life than a C or even an A. There is something in me that has moved past needing to get the approval of the A because I know I did the best given the circumstances. life goes on. Maybe. I suppose I say that now, but my tune may change so quickly.
I am in the midst of a navigation of what balance looks like in my life and what it means to take the risk of letting my yes be yes. Getting involved, making commitments, even when I am not sure of the requirements or the outcome. I am taking risks that are going to throw me in the path of building relationships and finding belonging rather than self-preservation and the safety of hiding.
I am beginning to wonder if these systems of belonging and who is in and who is out is actually in my head, and is really less about other people laying that on me. Groups that make me feel like I am on the outside, like I am not good enough is less their fault and more of mine for putting any amount of stock in such thinking. Its false thinking. The world really is a lot bigger than certain clubs and opinions and massive groups that sometimes feel like they engulf everything and everyone. There are people who don't think the mainstream is for them either and there are people who have taken the risks to walk away and maybe have been just as shy as me to say so. And that is so refreshing.
I am working on crawling out of a hole that induces me to compare myself to other girls. Girls who are more stylish, wear more makeup than me. I am exploring what it means to find my own beauty in who I love and what I am passionate about. Working on letting it go if people judge me artificially and really working on tapping into the reality that all women are beautiful, including me. I am exploring the idea of becoming someone who is accessible, who smiles at others in the hall and takes the first step to get to know others because it isn't about worrying about what other people think of me as much as being honest about the fact that I want to know them, that something in me really is compelled to care for them.
But truly, being back in school, back in the throes of a 25,000 member learning community, the thoughts have returned. In all honesty, I'm not sure how to articulate them all here, especially considering I ought to be studying still, but alas, I suppose out of a thirteen hour working day, I ought to be entitled a few minutes to record what it all means to my heart. (you can probably tell by my writing that I have been writing a few academic papers. Sorry for the heightened vocabulary, but I am in the midst, afterall).
A few months ago, I was doing a lot of praying about who I wanted to be sitting here at this desk, miles and miles away from my desert of solitude. I began to see this passion awakened in me regarding what the kingdom looks like for my life-- where my little body fits into the big open sky that is that reign of the creator. I did a lot of thinking and praying about being a person who lives for the connection with others. I did a lot of contemplation upon my intention of learning to "love well" and how that will come out in my over-piled schedule.
I was talking to a friend tonight and realized that a major facet of college life is the near-total necessity to be totally self-absorbed. It is nearly a matter of death to be distracted from self for a moment because the treadmill keeps moving whether you are walking or not. It is difficult to focus on much more than your own feet.
But I am determined not to allow my life to be consumed with what ought to be done before I consider who it is that is doing it. Upon my return, I could hardly stop thinking about the opportunities to make new friends, to try out my new relational wings.
So, each day, as I walk through my classes, around classes, to the library, on the lawn to the north of the education building, the lounge area in Clark, the curriculum that seems to occupy my mind is what it takes to make friends, how relationships are formed, what it takes to connect with another human being.
The conclusion I have drawn entail the realization that making new friends takes a great deal of work, perseverence, patience, and risk. People often say in college you must be intentional to maintain relationships, but I think it takes even more intentionality to make friends in the first place. It takes bravery to take the first step, to put out my hand and introduce myself. It takes a great deal of stamina to overcome that seemingly endless period of awkwardness that really seems to fade as quickly as it dared to arrive and linger. It takes a lot of strength to stay seated when the intimacy increases-- more questions getting closer to the heart of things. Patience when you see the ugliness, the brokenness come out.
Despite all of this work, I have observed a shift in my thinking. I am feeling the breathtaking pressure of classes and papers and midterms, but I don't feel suffocated or crushed. I do what I can, but something in me knows that this is not the end of all things. I finished my first set of paintings today. I don't really know how the teacher grades or what he will even say, how the critique will say, how my peers will slaughter my work, but today I was simply able to walk away. I did the best I could. A little part of me feels the blood pressure rising as I think about the crit I will sit through on Thursday, but today I was able to say to myself, "regardless of what the instructor thinks of my work, I did the best I could. There is nothing else that I can do to improve without the comments of that critique." And there is something very freeing in that. To know that my worth, my grade comes from my ability to work hard and respond to criticism rather than what I already know before I took the class.
I also know that there is a lot more to life than a C or even an A. There is something in me that has moved past needing to get the approval of the A because I know I did the best given the circumstances. life goes on. Maybe. I suppose I say that now, but my tune may change so quickly.
I am in the midst of a navigation of what balance looks like in my life and what it means to take the risk of letting my yes be yes. Getting involved, making commitments, even when I am not sure of the requirements or the outcome. I am taking risks that are going to throw me in the path of building relationships and finding belonging rather than self-preservation and the safety of hiding.
I am beginning to wonder if these systems of belonging and who is in and who is out is actually in my head, and is really less about other people laying that on me. Groups that make me feel like I am on the outside, like I am not good enough is less their fault and more of mine for putting any amount of stock in such thinking. Its false thinking. The world really is a lot bigger than certain clubs and opinions and massive groups that sometimes feel like they engulf everything and everyone. There are people who don't think the mainstream is for them either and there are people who have taken the risks to walk away and maybe have been just as shy as me to say so. And that is so refreshing.
I am working on crawling out of a hole that induces me to compare myself to other girls. Girls who are more stylish, wear more makeup than me. I am exploring what it means to find my own beauty in who I love and what I am passionate about. Working on letting it go if people judge me artificially and really working on tapping into the reality that all women are beautiful, including me. I am exploring the idea of becoming someone who is accessible, who smiles at others in the hall and takes the first step to get to know others because it isn't about worrying about what other people think of me as much as being honest about the fact that I want to know them, that something in me really is compelled to care for them.
Thursday, September 13
Tuesday, September 11
As I was putting away my paints
The sun was getting out his
Preparing to set
I pedaled my bike home
As the trees threw cool blue shadows
across the warm gray sidewalk
sparkling in the champagne sunlight
I rode up the hill twice today
Burning muscles pushing against the gravity
I whispered under my breath on Friday
Asking for a friend
I thought no one would hear
Impossible request
But there she was
"I love your bag,"
she says. Just like that.
And on monday
Plop down in the next seat
hi.
And I remembered intimacy
Letting in strangers
The walls
I stood there today
Four hours straight
A-shaped legs
Stroke after stroke
Hoping
things might come together
(the reds and greens)
Wondering
How people become friends
Letting each other in
I saw an old friend today.
A genuine friend
Same room
Different class
different world
I wondered how things
in theory
Seem so simple
But in reality
become so complicated
Convoluted
Over-analysis for the unclear
I pedaled home in the half-twilight that is still falling
And thought about
An artist statement
And someone who once said
Trust in the Lord
With all your heart
Lean not on your own
Understanding
I read some words on a sheet of typing paper
"I called the lady"
he said,
"And said I needed to study art.
And give up all financial security"
He wrote the word God
Three times
Taped it on the wall
Right there
Where everyone could see it
And I began to wonder
Why I don't say things like that outloud
if they are true.
I suppose I wonder
If when I say
GOD
people will color in the lines with the wrong color
get the wrong idea
We all have our own images
So I tell myself
I'd rather use a picture
Accurate to my heart
Than some pop culture icon
Dirtied with blood and greed
Or maybe I really am ashamed
But I'm not sure how much
the name
The label
the language
matters
I'm not defending someone
who might melt without defense
But still
I pedaled that brown frame
Hard against gravity
Wondering
Trust
Financial Security
"God"
Insecurity
echoing off my mind
And I don't know much about tomorrow
All I have is this twilight
Clutching
Holding on, hoping
seeking a kingdom
warm with the touch
A lover
a Provider
One who knows all so well
But is simply calling me deeper
into warm arms
Today
in the midst of the twilight
Getting out its paints
Preparing to move forward
Hoping something would come together
(the red and the green).
The sun was getting out his
Preparing to set
I pedaled my bike home
As the trees threw cool blue shadows
across the warm gray sidewalk
sparkling in the champagne sunlight
I rode up the hill twice today
Burning muscles pushing against the gravity
I whispered under my breath on Friday
Asking for a friend
I thought no one would hear
Impossible request
But there she was
"I love your bag,"
she says. Just like that.
And on monday
Plop down in the next seat
hi.
And I remembered intimacy
Letting in strangers
The walls
I stood there today
Four hours straight
A-shaped legs
Stroke after stroke
Hoping
things might come together
(the reds and greens)
Wondering
How people become friends
Letting each other in
I saw an old friend today.
A genuine friend
Same room
Different class
different world
I wondered how things
in theory
Seem so simple
But in reality
become so complicated
Convoluted
Over-analysis for the unclear
I pedaled home in the half-twilight that is still falling
And thought about
An artist statement
And someone who once said
Trust in the Lord
With all your heart
Lean not on your own
Understanding
I read some words on a sheet of typing paper
"I called the lady"
he said,
"And said I needed to study art.
And give up all financial security"
He wrote the word God
Three times
Taped it on the wall
Right there
Where everyone could see it
And I began to wonder
Why I don't say things like that outloud
if they are true.
I suppose I wonder
If when I say
GOD
people will color in the lines with the wrong color
get the wrong idea
We all have our own images
So I tell myself
I'd rather use a picture
Accurate to my heart
Than some pop culture icon
Dirtied with blood and greed
Or maybe I really am ashamed
But I'm not sure how much
the name
The label
the language
matters
I'm not defending someone
who might melt without defense
But still
I pedaled that brown frame
Hard against gravity
Wondering
Trust
Financial Security
"God"
Insecurity
echoing off my mind
And I don't know much about tomorrow
All I have is this twilight
Clutching
Holding on, hoping
seeking a kingdom
warm with the touch
A lover
a Provider
One who knows all so well
But is simply calling me deeper
into warm arms
Today
in the midst of the twilight
Getting out its paints
Preparing to move forward
Hoping something would come together
(the red and the green).
The Lord is in His holy temple
Let all the earth keep silence before him.
Hab. 2:20
The earth is the Lord's for he made it. Come, let us adore him.
The rustle of wings stopped us on the trail. We were all mid-sentence, mid-stride. In the grasses to our left was the powerful struggle of a large bird emerging from the grasses. And we fell silent, to watch. The animal was so large, our first thoughts were bears, or foxes, or something with legs none the less. "Quiet," we had admonished each other.
The wind settled over the mountain, moving grasses, rocks clapping their hands. Stillness.
The idea of stillness keeps coming up in my heart day after day. stillness a voice whispers. Solitude. Find quiet places. Listen. Stop your moving and your chattering or you will never see me, you will never find me.
For those of you who have ever been in school, you know how impossible it seems to find quiet, stillness, peace in the midst of all the hustle of students rushing from class to class, job to job, thought to thought, friend to friend. I find myself there. More than once has someone so kindly said, "Heidi, you are so easily overwhelemed. Here you are again." Here I am again. And someone keeps talking to me about silence, stillness, quiet.
When I first arrived here in Colorado and I was surrounded by all of these people again and had so much to do suddenly, I immediately noticed a contrast in my soul and began to reflect on what had been different in the last few months. And I realized that although I was very busy at times last semester and in the summer, it was still very much a time of quiet, of wilderness that helped me find the silence to find myself at the deepest, most still parts. I noticed, when I was here, surrounded by people or surrounded by to-do lists and the impressive importance of time-management, I was beginning to loose myself. Loosing my own heart. Who is Heidi? What is it that I really care about? What is at the heart of who I seek to become? And in those flashes of moments of questions, I realized that stillness is of the utmost importance to keeping track of that person I once knew.
These last few weeks, I have been needing to ask myself, I am still the deep, sincere person that I once was? Or have I retreated to the edges, the surface where the drawings and papers and readings are due because that is all there is time for?
So last night, I was offered a job. It will not start for a few weeks, but the thought of it overwhelms me still. How will I ever find the time for stillness? Where will it come from? This past weekend, how refreshing it was to get away to the mountains, to go for a hike and just breath in the air and revel in the sound of silence. Nothing but the Father whispering through the trees. Stillness, he whispered, doesn't it feel good to your soul?
I have a notorious habit of never stopping for the sake of those I feel I must please. Never stop, Never admit that you are tired, that this is too much. And I ask sometimes, "What choice do I have? I must make money to survive, to eat, to stay in school." But I fear I will loose my focus, loose my joy, loose my love in this grand pile of things I must get done before tomorrow. And all I can say is Lord help me. Oh Lord, Help me.
Stillness. More than ever I find it so illusive, so hard to find time for. ANd yet more than ever I see my need for it. More than ever I must ask myself who I want to become and where that breeding ground will be? Will my spirit be borne out of the stagnant pond of obligation, of rushing around, or will it be out of the stillness of the soul, listening for the gardener as he walks through the brush?
How I long for it to be stillness. How I seek to find that balance in the midst of all that I said I would do. How will I do it? I do not know. But all I have is this moment, all I have is the step in front of me, today. I can do what I can with today because as I look out on this expansive field of snow, all I feel is cold and overwhelmed, but there before me are the tracks of One who goes before, deep wells of His footprints, inviting me in. I've been invited to trust a little deeper, to clutch a little harder, to seek a bit more earnestly. And I suppose this is the deeper place that he is always calling if we are able to stop and listen to the stillness of his voice.
""
Let all the earth keep silence before him.
Hab. 2:20
The earth is the Lord's for he made it. Come, let us adore him.
The rustle of wings stopped us on the trail. We were all mid-sentence, mid-stride. In the grasses to our left was the powerful struggle of a large bird emerging from the grasses. And we fell silent, to watch. The animal was so large, our first thoughts were bears, or foxes, or something with legs none the less. "Quiet," we had admonished each other.
The wind settled over the mountain, moving grasses, rocks clapping their hands. Stillness.
The idea of stillness keeps coming up in my heart day after day. stillness a voice whispers. Solitude. Find quiet places. Listen. Stop your moving and your chattering or you will never see me, you will never find me.
For those of you who have ever been in school, you know how impossible it seems to find quiet, stillness, peace in the midst of all the hustle of students rushing from class to class, job to job, thought to thought, friend to friend. I find myself there. More than once has someone so kindly said, "Heidi, you are so easily overwhelemed. Here you are again." Here I am again. And someone keeps talking to me about silence, stillness, quiet.
When I first arrived here in Colorado and I was surrounded by all of these people again and had so much to do suddenly, I immediately noticed a contrast in my soul and began to reflect on what had been different in the last few months. And I realized that although I was very busy at times last semester and in the summer, it was still very much a time of quiet, of wilderness that helped me find the silence to find myself at the deepest, most still parts. I noticed, when I was here, surrounded by people or surrounded by to-do lists and the impressive importance of time-management, I was beginning to loose myself. Loosing my own heart. Who is Heidi? What is it that I really care about? What is at the heart of who I seek to become? And in those flashes of moments of questions, I realized that stillness is of the utmost importance to keeping track of that person I once knew.
These last few weeks, I have been needing to ask myself, I am still the deep, sincere person that I once was? Or have I retreated to the edges, the surface where the drawings and papers and readings are due because that is all there is time for?
So last night, I was offered a job. It will not start for a few weeks, but the thought of it overwhelms me still. How will I ever find the time for stillness? Where will it come from? This past weekend, how refreshing it was to get away to the mountains, to go for a hike and just breath in the air and revel in the sound of silence. Nothing but the Father whispering through the trees. Stillness, he whispered, doesn't it feel good to your soul?
I have a notorious habit of never stopping for the sake of those I feel I must please. Never stop, Never admit that you are tired, that this is too much. And I ask sometimes, "What choice do I have? I must make money to survive, to eat, to stay in school." But I fear I will loose my focus, loose my joy, loose my love in this grand pile of things I must get done before tomorrow. And all I can say is Lord help me. Oh Lord, Help me.
Stillness. More than ever I find it so illusive, so hard to find time for. ANd yet more than ever I see my need for it. More than ever I must ask myself who I want to become and where that breeding ground will be? Will my spirit be borne out of the stagnant pond of obligation, of rushing around, or will it be out of the stillness of the soul, listening for the gardener as he walks through the brush?
How I long for it to be stillness. How I seek to find that balance in the midst of all that I said I would do. How will I do it? I do not know. But all I have is this moment, all I have is the step in front of me, today. I can do what I can with today because as I look out on this expansive field of snow, all I feel is cold and overwhelmed, but there before me are the tracks of One who goes before, deep wells of His footprints, inviting me in. I've been invited to trust a little deeper, to clutch a little harder, to seek a bit more earnestly. And I suppose this is the deeper place that he is always calling if we are able to stop and listen to the stillness of his voice.
""
Monday, September 10
I do not want to be one of those people
Mistaking purity for cleanliness
Mistaking safety to security
Mistaking bright clean smiles for joy
I do not want to be one of those people
Afraid of mud
Who shies away from mess
Avoids complication and questions
To ask the questions
To venture into the woods
I'd prefer to be free from the label
Away from the lie
That says security is in fact found in appearance
I don't want to be one of those people
Who fears being uncomfortable
Who gives lip service to
the outside boundary of the "comfort zone"
But never really venturing too far out
I don't want to be one of those blond-haired smiling girls
One of those girls who were encouraged to stay in at night
One of those girls
Whose religion is fear
And whose spirituality is safety
I'm not sure I want to be classified with those
Who pursue a certain brand
Of what "righteousness" looks like
Who finds safety and comfort in feeling
squeaky clean behind the ears
Keep your nose clean, they say
But noses don't stay clean long
When you venture out into the places
no one wants to go
No one will go
Without a word of condemning fear
But I also don't want to be seen
As one of those angry
Bitter or cynical
For I am no better
I don't want to be one of those who blame
Who cut off souls
for the sake of a different fear
A different safety
A hard shell of a heart
I don't want to be one of those who won't listen
Who walk by
Roll their eyes
Talk to the hand
Condemn in the name of greater intelligence
Where is the line
Between turning over tables
And being a person of forgiveness
A listener
A seer
Full of compassion and mercy
I just don't think I can be one of those
Who buys into the black and white
Too far from the walls
The rules
the Formulas
That tell me I am going to be okay
I'd rather be able to be okay
In the middle of the wilderness
When the rain stops falling
And the desert becomes my solitude
To hear the voice
of truth
reason
The Reality of How Things Are.
How they always are at the center.
To be defined by
The still small voice
That is only heard in the hush of the voices
Telling me how clean to be
What goodness looks like
to them
I am not interested in those
Who settle for the shower
The clean face
The airbrushed photographs
For the sake of waveless seas
(I think I remember someone saying
they had power over even these rushing waters)
I'd rather get dirty
Attempt that which is ultimately
Messy
Let you point and stare
Whisper behind by back
When you can't understand
Why the boxes are too small
Too square
If they feel like safety
warmth
to you
Mistaking purity for cleanliness
Mistaking safety to security
Mistaking bright clean smiles for joy
I do not want to be one of those people
Afraid of mud
Who shies away from mess
Avoids complication and questions
To ask the questions
To venture into the woods
I'd prefer to be free from the label
Away from the lie
That says security is in fact found in appearance
I don't want to be one of those people
Who fears being uncomfortable
Who gives lip service to
the outside boundary of the "comfort zone"
But never really venturing too far out
I don't want to be one of those blond-haired smiling girls
One of those girls who were encouraged to stay in at night
One of those girls
Whose religion is fear
And whose spirituality is safety
I'm not sure I want to be classified with those
Who pursue a certain brand
Of what "righteousness" looks like
Who finds safety and comfort in feeling
squeaky clean behind the ears
Keep your nose clean, they say
But noses don't stay clean long
When you venture out into the places
no one wants to go
No one will go
Without a word of condemning fear
But I also don't want to be seen
As one of those angry
Bitter or cynical
For I am no better
I don't want to be one of those who blame
Who cut off souls
for the sake of a different fear
A different safety
A hard shell of a heart
I don't want to be one of those who won't listen
Who walk by
Roll their eyes
Talk to the hand
Condemn in the name of greater intelligence
Where is the line
Between turning over tables
And being a person of forgiveness
A listener
A seer
Full of compassion and mercy
I just don't think I can be one of those
Who buys into the black and white
Too far from the walls
The rules
the Formulas
That tell me I am going to be okay
I'd rather be able to be okay
In the middle of the wilderness
When the rain stops falling
And the desert becomes my solitude
To hear the voice
of truth
reason
The Reality of How Things Are.
How they always are at the center.
To be defined by
The still small voice
That is only heard in the hush of the voices
Telling me how clean to be
What goodness looks like
to them
I am not interested in those
Who settle for the shower
The clean face
The airbrushed photographs
For the sake of waveless seas
(I think I remember someone saying
they had power over even these rushing waters)
I'd rather get dirty
Attempt that which is ultimately
Messy
Let you point and stare
Whisper behind by back
When you can't understand
Why the boxes are too small
Too square
If they feel like safety
warmth
to you
Friday, September 7
Delight yourself in the Lord
and he will give you the desires of your heart
Commit your way to the Lord
trust in him and he will do thi
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him
do not fret when men succeed in their ways
when they carry out their wicked schemes
The wicked borrow and do not repay
but the righteous give gernously.
ps37
In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame
delver me in your righteousness
How great is your goodness, O Lord,
which you have laid up for those who fear you
which you have done in the sight of those who put their trust in you
Be strong and let your hearts take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.
ps 31
I need thee,
O I need thee.
Every hour I need thee.
--Annie Hawks
I am being reminded of how emotionally trying this environment is. These last few weeks of school have been hard. Ithas been hard to readjust to studying and the long days, but more than that, it has been hard not to compare myself to others. On this big campus, I feel like I have gotten lost, I've lost myself. It seems as though the size intimidates everybody-- everyone is afraid a little. How do you find connection in this big place? How do you learn that in the midst of all the competition, you are still the same, valid person? It seems very challenging.
and he will give you the desires of your heart
Commit your way to the Lord
trust in him and he will do thi
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him
do not fret when men succeed in their ways
when they carry out their wicked schemes
The wicked borrow and do not repay
but the righteous give gernously.
ps37
In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame
delver me in your righteousness
How great is your goodness, O Lord,
which you have laid up for those who fear you
which you have done in the sight of those who put their trust in you
Be strong and let your hearts take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.
ps 31
I need thee,
O I need thee.
Every hour I need thee.
--Annie Hawks
I am being reminded of how emotionally trying this environment is. These last few weeks of school have been hard. Ithas been hard to readjust to studying and the long days, but more than that, it has been hard not to compare myself to others. On this big campus, I feel like I have gotten lost, I've lost myself. It seems as though the size intimidates everybody-- everyone is afraid a little. How do you find connection in this big place? How do you learn that in the midst of all the competition, you are still the same, valid person? It seems very challenging.
Thursday, September 6
There are some days that I am left feeling discouraged.
Today on the plaza there were a number of religious campus groups advertising their programs while a man with a long beard and a weird haircut stood on the free-speech rocks shouting at students to stop "fornicating." Every three or four condemnations he would throw in "you can be cleansed in just one day!" At most of the tables were very old people with outdated clothes who looked as bored as the students walking past.
I got an advertisement in the mail for a seminar on "How Close to the End are We?" Complete with the most horrifying pictures I think I have ever seen. My favorite part was the listed location was "Church Auditorium" and then some more specific address referring to some cross streets, but no actual name of a church. The topics included "Unmasking the Anti-Christ," "The Hopeful Parts of Revelation" and "Left Behind and the Mark of the Beast" (which I found especially humorous considering Left Behind is fictional with little substantial evidence."
I just can't help but think that there has got to be a problem with some things that fall under the label of "Christianity." It just seems like we've gotten away from the heart of God sometimes. So please stop telling me to have grace and love the church made up of imperfect people. This is a whole different issue.
My job choices are dwindling and I am getting really tired of this whole game. Going on five weeks of the same phrase, "hi, do you have any job openings?" "Hi, I brought in a resume a few weeks ago and was wondering when you are looking to fill your positions?" The wind is blowing all the pollen around today and my throat is dry.
I'm not doing very well at resisting the temptation to compare myself to others. I feel plain and mannish and can't figure out why someone else got hired instead of me. Wishing I could just lay down and take a nap and let someone else take care of my life. I am tired of persisting but not ready to give in or settle. I don't look trendy enough to be taken seriously apparently. I just can't help but give that thought some airtime.
Today on the plaza there were a number of religious campus groups advertising their programs while a man with a long beard and a weird haircut stood on the free-speech rocks shouting at students to stop "fornicating." Every three or four condemnations he would throw in "you can be cleansed in just one day!" At most of the tables were very old people with outdated clothes who looked as bored as the students walking past.
I got an advertisement in the mail for a seminar on "How Close to the End are We?" Complete with the most horrifying pictures I think I have ever seen. My favorite part was the listed location was "Church Auditorium" and then some more specific address referring to some cross streets, but no actual name of a church. The topics included "Unmasking the Anti-Christ," "The Hopeful Parts of Revelation" and "Left Behind and the Mark of the Beast" (which I found especially humorous considering Left Behind is fictional with little substantial evidence."
I just can't help but think that there has got to be a problem with some things that fall under the label of "Christianity." It just seems like we've gotten away from the heart of God sometimes. So please stop telling me to have grace and love the church made up of imperfect people. This is a whole different issue.
My job choices are dwindling and I am getting really tired of this whole game. Going on five weeks of the same phrase, "hi, do you have any job openings?" "Hi, I brought in a resume a few weeks ago and was wondering when you are looking to fill your positions?" The wind is blowing all the pollen around today and my throat is dry.
I'm not doing very well at resisting the temptation to compare myself to others. I feel plain and mannish and can't figure out why someone else got hired instead of me. Wishing I could just lay down and take a nap and let someone else take care of my life. I am tired of persisting but not ready to give in or settle. I don't look trendy enough to be taken seriously apparently. I just can't help but give that thought some airtime.
Monday, September 3
I went on an adventure this weekend (mostly) by myself. I embarked on my own and got a little help. I found out that the me that I discovered is still with me, just moved, transplanted. The explorer is still alive. I realized it has been a very long time since I felt like the little girl I used to see in the mirror.
There were people everywhere, the loud bass, the drums booming through the park. All the colors of skin and clothes and hats and strollers mesmerizing between the booths, jammed in the thoroughfares. Try a taste. Look at this. The lavender of the tickets flies past-- a lightning speed exchange of purple paper for the delicacies to be offered. Espresso taste. Double Espresso. Americano iced-- single for four, double for five. Gelato Affagoto -- yes, it is just like the picture. Try some. Have some. Single for six, double for ten.
I imagine it is all quiet now, now that is is nearly ten and everyone began to clean at eight. I imagine all the white tents coming down, tables folded, golf carts whizzing around carring cardboard boxes and metal serving trays, boxes of leftover meatballs and empanadas and cobs od unraosted corn and icecream. Tomorrow the city will be all business again. All the dancing women will be back in suits or uniforms or home with the children or back in the grocery store and all the workers will be back at school or back at the temp agency or back to whatever they do. All will be quiet again.
I learned the things I like the most are those that give me a chance to talk to people about what is good, what they enjoy. I learned that you never know when you will find a new friend and how natural and right it is when you let yourself be open and you stop fearing. I was reminded of the danger of blaming others, relying on others, fearing others instead of just taking responsibility, accepting, moving on. I am sickened in a soft sort of grievous way by people who let others walk all over them, who put on fake accents to people please, beat around the bush because they are afraid of their own power.
There was a woman, couldn't have been too far ahead of me-- she was sitting on the street, leaning on the marble column of the bank. Her Khaki pants were clean and dry but her black shell was soaked through and as she huddled there strangely, permanently on the sidewalk in the dark, breezy night, it was as if the affluent crowds were invading her living room and she wanted to sink into the sheen of the concrete.
I imagined what it would be like to only have those khaki pants, the black shirt and the contents of one small bag. A black canvas tote with a zipper, filled with plastic grocery bags, organized neatly-- maybe organized into bathroom, laundry room, kitchen, bedroom. I wondered this as we checked our cell phones, talked about our new Chacos, waiting for the charter bus with the TV screens, hoping that it would not be air conditioned because we were awaiting our cars to take us to our warm homes where a closet full of dry clothing would be waiting. I wondered what it would be like to sit outside four city blocks closed off for the soul purpose of enjoying the finest foods in the state and hoping for perhaps one simple meal in the next day.
I wondered how I could say that I am poor when I drove my own car home--to an apartment with my name on the lease. How I can be poor when I am receiving a serious education, am typing on this very computer. And I can't help but ask myself, what am I to do? Should we all become homeless, give it all away and go sit on the wet sidewalk? Or how do we invite them all in?
I've been thinking a lot about what money is for, whether it is really as exact as we make it to be, and something in me fights the idea that everything should be numerically even. And the more I think about what I have been given, the more I think about how important it is to share. When we are young, our parents try to convince us that sharing is the best, we tell kids that instead of fighting over toys, we need to be "nice" and share. (and remember that when Billy goes home, the toy will be ours again). And doesn't it seem like that concept never really seems to stick? I mean, it is something we tell the kids to cut down on the yelling and fighting, but it never reallly seems get ingrained in us to the point of actual belief.
But I've been thinking a lot still about the Shrewd Servant and how Jesus tells us that if we are trustworthy with a little, he will entrust more to us as well. And I can't stop thinking that what he meant was that if he gives us a little and we are willing to share, he is certainly going to give us more to really spread around. And I can't say that I am convinced that the answer is that no one should have more than someone else, but it just seems like those people have the greatest responsiblity to share what they have been given. It is sort of like we are more willing to share if we know that our Father is just waiting with hands full to give us more. We are simply the hands through which is passes.
So this weekend, I went on an adventure. I was exposed to more people, more diversity that I have in most of my lifetime and it was frightening, but growing. My eyes are changed a little. I realize I need to go on more of these adventures so I can keep running into this side of me that breaks out of the little sister and into this woman of great joy and celebration-- drinking life full. It is so life-giving to find that you are able to make your own choices, to live your life in such a way that you choose to enjoy all that has been made instead of letting yourself being pushed into corners by fear. To venture into unfamiliar territory and discover that you might make a new friend, or realize that you really love greek food, or get a little more used to driving on the freeway. You never know what kind of a person it will make you into!
There were people everywhere, the loud bass, the drums booming through the park. All the colors of skin and clothes and hats and strollers mesmerizing between the booths, jammed in the thoroughfares. Try a taste. Look at this. The lavender of the tickets flies past-- a lightning speed exchange of purple paper for the delicacies to be offered. Espresso taste. Double Espresso. Americano iced-- single for four, double for five. Gelato Affagoto -- yes, it is just like the picture. Try some. Have some. Single for six, double for ten.
I imagine it is all quiet now, now that is is nearly ten and everyone began to clean at eight. I imagine all the white tents coming down, tables folded, golf carts whizzing around carring cardboard boxes and metal serving trays, boxes of leftover meatballs and empanadas and cobs od unraosted corn and icecream. Tomorrow the city will be all business again. All the dancing women will be back in suits or uniforms or home with the children or back in the grocery store and all the workers will be back at school or back at the temp agency or back to whatever they do. All will be quiet again.
I learned the things I like the most are those that give me a chance to talk to people about what is good, what they enjoy. I learned that you never know when you will find a new friend and how natural and right it is when you let yourself be open and you stop fearing. I was reminded of the danger of blaming others, relying on others, fearing others instead of just taking responsibility, accepting, moving on. I am sickened in a soft sort of grievous way by people who let others walk all over them, who put on fake accents to people please, beat around the bush because they are afraid of their own power.
There was a woman, couldn't have been too far ahead of me-- she was sitting on the street, leaning on the marble column of the bank. Her Khaki pants were clean and dry but her black shell was soaked through and as she huddled there strangely, permanently on the sidewalk in the dark, breezy night, it was as if the affluent crowds were invading her living room and she wanted to sink into the sheen of the concrete.
I imagined what it would be like to only have those khaki pants, the black shirt and the contents of one small bag. A black canvas tote with a zipper, filled with plastic grocery bags, organized neatly-- maybe organized into bathroom, laundry room, kitchen, bedroom. I wondered this as we checked our cell phones, talked about our new Chacos, waiting for the charter bus with the TV screens, hoping that it would not be air conditioned because we were awaiting our cars to take us to our warm homes where a closet full of dry clothing would be waiting. I wondered what it would be like to sit outside four city blocks closed off for the soul purpose of enjoying the finest foods in the state and hoping for perhaps one simple meal in the next day.
I wondered how I could say that I am poor when I drove my own car home--to an apartment with my name on the lease. How I can be poor when I am receiving a serious education, am typing on this very computer. And I can't help but ask myself, what am I to do? Should we all become homeless, give it all away and go sit on the wet sidewalk? Or how do we invite them all in?
I've been thinking a lot about what money is for, whether it is really as exact as we make it to be, and something in me fights the idea that everything should be numerically even. And the more I think about what I have been given, the more I think about how important it is to share. When we are young, our parents try to convince us that sharing is the best, we tell kids that instead of fighting over toys, we need to be "nice" and share. (and remember that when Billy goes home, the toy will be ours again). And doesn't it seem like that concept never really seems to stick? I mean, it is something we tell the kids to cut down on the yelling and fighting, but it never reallly seems get ingrained in us to the point of actual belief.
But I've been thinking a lot still about the Shrewd Servant and how Jesus tells us that if we are trustworthy with a little, he will entrust more to us as well. And I can't stop thinking that what he meant was that if he gives us a little and we are willing to share, he is certainly going to give us more to really spread around. And I can't say that I am convinced that the answer is that no one should have more than someone else, but it just seems like those people have the greatest responsiblity to share what they have been given. It is sort of like we are more willing to share if we know that our Father is just waiting with hands full to give us more. We are simply the hands through which is passes.
So this weekend, I went on an adventure. I was exposed to more people, more diversity that I have in most of my lifetime and it was frightening, but growing. My eyes are changed a little. I realize I need to go on more of these adventures so I can keep running into this side of me that breaks out of the little sister and into this woman of great joy and celebration-- drinking life full. It is so life-giving to find that you are able to make your own choices, to live your life in such a way that you choose to enjoy all that has been made instead of letting yourself being pushed into corners by fear. To venture into unfamiliar territory and discover that you might make a new friend, or realize that you really love greek food, or get a little more used to driving on the freeway. You never know what kind of a person it will make you into!
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