Questions and Answers

Recent weeks have brought a lot of questions to mind that I have been working through with God. Mostly, they are the result of the Broken Hearts ministry with which I am involved, and seeing how God uses - or doesn't seem to use - us. I'm not sure exactly where it came from, but a few weeks ago I began asking questions that I have never asked before:

"God, why do you send us out to spread the gospel, knowing that some people will never listen?"
"Why don't you soften people hearts? You did it in the bible?"
"Why must Christians suffer persecution and live hard lives of sacrifice? Why did you?"
"Should I even be ministering to these people on the street who are so hardened and don't care?"
"What is your glory? Where is your power? And are what I think experiences of it really something I just tell myself is true?"
"How can I experience you in a way that makes me want you more than anything else? And how do I share that with someone who doesn't know you?"

The list goes on and on. And every answer I get, my only response is that of a curious and discontent child - "But why?"

I have known Christ my entire life...I never had a radical conversion experience to know what life is like without him. And for that blessing, I am so so grateful...but just as the parable of the men whose debts are forgiven, the one who is freed of the greater debt is more thankful. I have not had as great a debt as some, and therefore have missed some of the miracle of God's grace. His Word tells us to believe without seeing, but also to ask questions and to seek God and we will find him. I am somewhere in the middle of that right now.

But this Thanksgiving weekend was amazing...God spoke to me, just as he has been doing recently. Did He answer all of my questions? No, but he answered some and did show me more of himself...and I feel like he left some unanswered that I might continue to pursue Him, seek him more, desire him more, and end my journey more prepared and more passionate to share my faith with those living their lives without Him.

On Wednesday night I shared a meal with some extended family, as well as my own. That in itself is an amazing blessing because my family is amazing. But as we sat around the dinner table, we began to share what we are thankful for. I don't know why it happened, but as I began to share, my eyes filled with tears and the pain mixed with gratitude choked my words. To better understand, it should be known that I never cry in front of people. I hate it. Just in the last few years I began crying when I was alone after I had stopped for many years when I felt like my tears had dried up. In front of my whole family, who NEVER sees me cry, never sees my weaknesses, I tried my best not to weep. I could barely get any words out, because once I start I can't speak and cry at the same time. But they patiently waited as I eeked out the explanation that I have had a very hard past several months, but I am thankful for the struggle and the pain, because I have come to know God so much better and to love and desire him more than anything he could or ever will give me. And so many blessings have come as a result of something terrible. All of that took about 5 minutes to get out between tears - how embarrasing! Soooo not me! And yet I saw how vulnerability breeds community and depth in relationships. No one got awkward, no one thought I was crazy. They patiently listened, and after I finished, my entire family gathered around me and laid hands on me and prayed. This was very hard for me, because I do not show much emotion with them, and I don't like being the center of attention. But in that moment, I saw a piece of God's glory. Part of being in his kingdom is that we have both earthly and eternal families. And at that moment my entire family stopped to care for me and lift me into Jesus' arms. I am not crazy for believing in Jesus, I saw him at work in that room and could not deny his power and love. And afterwards, what I NEVER would have expected, was that about half of my family sat and talked with me individually, and most of them THANKED me for sharing and for crying and getting upset. WHAT? was my reaction. But it was true, my entire family was grateful for my breakdown, for some reason, to see me vulnerable, to know me better, and to be a part of my life and see God at work. At least two people said that it basically made their night. um, are you kidding? But yes, it's true. I have never had an experience like that with my family, but I will never forget it. Or how God confirmed that Community is part of God's blessing and glory on this earth.

On Thanksgiving day, I spent the day with my immediate family, and halfway through the day I opened up a book by Brother Yun to read. God gave me these two sentences, so powerful that I had to stop reading so that I could think on them for a while and let them sink in: "It's only when we step out in obedience and share the gospel with people that we come to know God's blessing in every area of our lives" and "If you truly want to see God move, the two main things you must do is learn the Word of God and have the obedience to do what God tells you to do." I felt like God was saying, "You want to see me any my glory? Then keep doing, keep sharing your faith, keep pursuing me. In obedience to living and sharing the gospel, my glory will be revealed to you."

Then after dinner headed over to a friend's house for dinner with the Broken Hearts ministry and people from the streets of Hollywood. Only one came from Hollywood...and it was great to have him. Aside from that, it was basically a ministry bonding experience. As tradition calls for, we also went around the table and shared what we were thankful for this year. I looked around as people shared, and was once again reminded what an awesome group of people, and what an awesome family I had in front of me. A group of people who might never have known each other if it weren't for ministry, of different ages and races and backgrounds, all sharing a Thanksgiving meal together and acting as a family. Only God can unite such random people together who are still getting to know each other, in such a powerful way. And it's because we all have passion for Him and sharing Him with others and are sharing how he's been working in our lives. We listened to story after story of what God is doing. We listened to Nick praise God, a man who, just a few years ago was working on the streets of Hollywood, "partying with demons", invovled in the porn industry, doing drugs and loving it all. And now he just wants to know Jesus more and share him more, and to love the only Father he's ever had. That is a true testimony of what God does.

And as I listened, I was able to see an experience that I've never had, coming to Jesus out of a terrible life and really understanding his grace and love. And God showed me how he works, even if it's through hearing other people's stories. I could not deny this cloud of witnesses around me. We all believe in this awesome God for a reason, though it may be different for each of us. Then I listened to someone's mom cry as she expressed how thankful she is for our ministry and what we are doing, and how we are impacting so many people that we don't even realize. That was a big slap over the head for me from God. I have been asking more about this ministry and why he allows it to take so long, and should we even spend time with people that aren't ready and aren't broken? But knowing that people are impacted, even if they have nothing to do with our ministry...I felt it was words straight from God. And we all discussed the recent conversion of a man who used to be an angry transvestite prostitute and drug addict, who just gave his life to Christ and is going home to change.

Once again, God showed me a community of believers, a people united under Him to do his work, and I was amazed. This was another demonstration of his glory...and so much accountablity around me reminding me why God is so great and how many people desire to serve Him, just because of who he is. And after this great time together, we packed up food and took it up to Hollywood to hand out. We met some new people, had some interesting conversations, and even saw a few familiar faces.

And on top of all of that, I was reminded how God has been directing me recently. Nearly a year ago now, I was praying that God would lead me in the direction he wanted me to go. Knowing that my banking job is not a lifelong career for me, and wanting to impact his Kingdom more, I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go or do. A few thoughts were going through my head at the time, but I continued to pray and wait. And then I went to New Orleans to help with Katrina relief. That put a soft spot in my heart for the poor and needy. A few weeks later I went to Hollywood to write an article for church...and the next week I was part of the ministry. 7 months later I am in love with it, I think and pray about it all the time. And I'm taking Sociology because I desire to do more. I want to help people transition from the streets back into normal living. And I would not have this passion if it were not for this ministry. And this Thursday made me feel even more like that's what I want to do. I'm still praying and figuring that out, but I see how God has lead me over the past several months into somewhere I never expected, but great nonetheless.

And on top of all of that, I'm free from a past relationship, I'm not tied down, I have more time for friendships and ministry and education and learning new skills and family and on and on. And as I question God, I seek him more, and I know that is his desire for me.

So, I still have things to figure out and answers I need to dig deep to find, but that is just a glimpse of the power of God this past day and a half in my life. Who knew so much could happen in so short of a time? God, I suppose.

Holy Crap Moment

Holy Crap.

Have you ever had one of those moments with the Holy Spirit, where ideas and questions and confusion all intersect - and in my case end up crying - because Jesus is so near it’s unbelievable? He reveals himself, or an answer, in such a way that you know he’s come just to speak something to you alone? And the only response, aside from crying, is ‘holy crap!’?

I actually feel as though I’ve had several of those of the last year or so and I just had one right now. I’ve been reading the book of Ezekiel, which I’ve read only once or twice before, and apparently without much depth of study, because I feel like I’m reading it for the first time and finding it fascinating. It has raised many questions for me, most of which I have not found any answers in. It has made me uncomfortable, put me in tears, left me wondering, and provided much insight.

To be more specific, it has directly been speaking to the ministry I am involved with in Hollywood each week. Part of the fascination is that there are so many comparisons to God’s people being and acting like prostitutes. And it takes on an entirely different meaning when you actually have friends who are prostitutes. It’s given me a clearer idea of what God is talking about, and it’s given me thoughts to share with those people about their lifestyle, idolatry, and God’s intentions for his people.

My post previous to this one was written after sitting outside at lunch, crying through most of my break as I read Ezekiel; questions formulating in my head, and my heart breaking for those prostitutes and others who don’t know Him.

God sends Ezekiel out, telling him that people won’t listen to his message, that their hearts have been hardened, but to go out anyway. I wanted to scream, “WHY?? God, this makes no sense! You can soften their hearts and bring them to you, why harden them?” Part of my tears were also a realization that while at times it may be discouraging, our job is not to convert. It is to speak, to share the gospel, and to go where God sends us. The results are up to him. And this has been confirmed to me more than once since, and which was part of my 'Holy Crap' moment earlier, which I will explain in a bit. God also repeatedly speaks about how people will know that He is the Lord by the consequences that his people suffer and by the way that their nations fall – this seems so counter-intuitive to me. We hear about God’s glory being displayed by the great things he does, not by his destruction. Doesn’t this make him look bad, take his glory away? Apparently, that is not always the case. And as I read this book I watch Ezekiel having to do so many crazy things, demonstrating God’s prophecies to the people with his own life: shaving his head and beard, not being able to speak unless it is to prophecy, and even not being able to mourn after his wife dies as a demonstration of yet another of God’s messages. Are you kidding me?
On that same day that I read about Ezekiel not wanting to go, but going anyway. Wow…he felt it too. God asks him to do so many seemingly ridiculous things…and he always obeys. And nothing changes, the people are still rebellious and don’t listen. How does that not leave you with questions swirling through your head? And so often, God does not answer our questions…but oh, how hard it is when you have looked into the eyes of so many hopeless, homeless, hardened prostitutes and drug addicts and want them so badly to feel God’s presence in their lives. God, why do you send us and yet do nothing?

This afternoon, however, as I took a break from studying for a Sociology Exam and read part of our church’s newspaper called Motion, God spoke. Part of the reason for the Holy Crap response was the fascination in the ways God speaks sometimes. I can’t find an answer as I read Ezekiel, or even the study notes, I can get no answer from friends I’ve asked about this. But from one person who shared his story of a new experience with our church, someone who may never know that their story answered some of my questions, and who is still a seminary student simply speaking an honest response…God spoke to me so clearly that it left me in awe. This person had a brief but powerful encounter which he expected God to use, and ended up disappointed and with some of the same questions. The conclusion to his story is this: “The encounter I had with Stephanie was probably one of several that God was and is and will continue to orchestrate. My obedience didn’t guarantee me anything. God does not have to continue the story through me. He chooses who and when and why. All He wanted me to do was obey in that moment. The perfect ending to this story was never dependent upon what I did or did not do. My job is not to ensure that I’m around at the ending. My job is only to obey the Storyteller so He alone emerges as the true Hero.”

And there it was…the Holy Spirit in newsprint form. How narrow-minded of me. I don’t know the end of these people’s story. I don’t know how God will use my obedience, or if he is in the process of softening hearts, regardless of my blindness to it. How do I know he’s not doing anything? Do I have to see the end? Or is He using some encounters simply to shape me? And if I was there, until the end, to see the happy ending, would I take some kind of credit for it? If I see no good to what I’m doing, but that person ends up coming to Christ, is it not God who emerges as the true Hero? If he brings someone to Him, when it looks like it’s impossible, I can only give credit to him - it has nothing to do with me, or anyone in the ministry. Did Ezekiel know that his story would continue, preserved in hundreds of written languages forever? No, but he obeyed, he was faithful even when it seemed fruitless. God did the rest. Will I ever understand God, or why he does what he does? Hardly. My job is only to obey the Storyteller so He alone emerges as the true Hero.

His Grace is Sufficient

Over the last few days, I have been praying that God would give me a better understanding of both his power and might, that I might tremble in reverence before him; and also that I would be able to grasp his grace and mercy towards us, that pleasing him would me my greatest and only concern in light of who He is and how gracious he has been to me when I only deserve death. Because, it's true that God is our friend and father, but far too often I make him just that, so much less than all that he is, and don't come before Him in awe as creator of the universe. Last night, in Hollywood, God in his mercy gently began to open my eyes to his grace in my life... I just returned from my lunch break, where I spent a good portion of it crying because of the darkness and depth of despair that I have witnessed in this sick world. Last night I spent my evening in Hollywood, as I do every Thursday. For some time I wandered around with a young "girl" who even i have a hard time remembering that he is actually a transvestite, born as a man. He spent most of his time looking for work, getting groped by some strange man, and taking a few hits of marijuana. Apparently the week before he had come to our bible study, but was completely drunk and left with a scary looking man. After our bible study I sat with Antquan and a homeless man that we know well. He talked about his time in prison, his transgender girlfriend, pan-handling, and the car dealership that he sleeps at. The rest of the evening I sat with a17 year-old boy who recently ran away from a group home and is now living on the streets and prostituting for money. There are some people who seem to stick in my mind more than others, for whatever reason, and this was one of them. Many people either deny or hide their unhappiness...this was not one of those. He could barely smile, and almost started crying as he talked about how he has no hopes or dreams anymore believing that they would never come true, so he never lets his mind go there anymore. It was hard to find things to talk to him about, because everything seems to be depressing to him. He has aboslutely no hope and no happiness, and the sadness in his eyes is still seared into my brain. And it hit me after talking to me...what makes me any different? He was born to parents who abandoned him and has been in and out of foster/group care his whole life. I was born to loving, middle-class white parents and well taken care of. I did absolutely nothing to deserve the life I've been given. Granted, I have probably made some better choices based on my family and God-given wisdom and Holy Spirit, so my life has turned out well. And perhaps this young man has made some poor choices to end up where he is. But still, I have done nothing to deserve what God has given me. Why is that?...Well, His Grace. For some reason, God chose to give me great parents, great family, a nice place to live, and wisdom to make good decisions. I have a home, more food than I need, a great job to go to every day, and plenty of opportunity to do new things, see new places, continue my education, etc. When I look into the eyes of these people, I think...that could be me. I could be in the same place in my life if God had chose to put me in a different situation. There is nothing that makes me more deserving, except that God has been so merciful to me and allowed me to know him. I still have so much more to learn about his grace, mercy and compassion...so much that it causes me to fall to my knees...but this was a step in that direction. When you see with your own eyes what you have been saved from, how can you not turn and worship your Savior?

Tales of Surfing #2

It has now been several weeks since my first post about learning to surf and my sad attempts at balancing on a board and popping up. But oh yes, now I can almost wear that “Surfer Girl” shirt proudly.

Today was one of those memorable days, another blessing from God in its simplicity. Amazingly, the sun was just beginning to peak through the clouds hovering about the calm waters of Newport, just as we hit the sand with surfboards under our arms. As the water touched our feet, we were shocked at its warmth. We stared at the ridiculously calm water, wondering how we were going to do much surfing on what more closely resembled a lake. But we headed in, with a wide open space out in front of us, for once not packed with other surfers. It slowly turned into, what in my opinion, was a perfect surf day. Frequent sets of waves, but small enough to actually attempt to catch and not just be pulled down underneath and sent tumbling along the shell-laden sand beneath us. (Although I had my share of those moments as well and many underwater somersaults). The warm sun had quickly broken free from the clouds and we were surrounded by carefully lapping waves, shiny waters reflecting the sun and a view of golden sand stretched out in front of us.

Early in our day, we were visited by dolphins close enough to see the tops of their bodies come out of the water from time to time as we sat on our surboards, feet dangling in the waters below as we waited for waves. They revisited our surfing community throughout the morning, provoking smiles and excited shouts from all of us in the water who were close enough to swim to them.

Of course, even better than this was the fact that a few hours in I actually caught waves! And not only stood on the board, but actually rode them in before falling. Our favorite was the wave that both Maceo and I caught and rode next to each other, my scream of delight totally out of place among the experienced, manly surfers out with us. I knew at some point it would click, just as popping up. Yes, “Big Red” as the well the long-board and I finally bonded, instead of it just hitting me repeatedly, dragging me under waves and attacking me with its leash as is the normal pattern of behavior. We climbed on top of the rolling waves together, being pushed in to the shore, where I would fall off backwards into the water when the wave stopped, just as I have watched so many surfers do.

I finally had momentum to keep going and keep practicing, keep paddling like crazy with my tired arms each time a wave would come. The sun was out full-force, Maceo and I both wishing we had just worn rash guards and board shorts, instead of the wetsuits that were now almost too warm to wear.

As we chatted and hung out on our boards in between waves, we watched the hundreds of tiny silver fish below us, that from time to time would jump out of the water in groups. Which also made for the freakiest part of my day. We always joke about the fish jumping out and how we could have some sushi if they jumped over our boards. Unfortunately this time they actually did jump over my board, as I laid down staring out at the water in front of me, a group of them dove over my board as I screamed and dove off my board, trying to avoid them, then climbed back on quickly hoping none would touch my feet. And of course there was the pelican that kept landing in the water in search of fish, so large that I kept thinking it was a surfer or part of some other creature.

I don’t think there is anyone who could convince me that this is not one of the best experiences in the world. To start the day early when few people are out yet, and to spend hours in the midst of God’s beautiful creation. The calm sounds of waves and moving water surrounding you as you lay on top of it, warmed by sun and the sights of unique homes, piers, jettys and Lifeguard towers; families and friends dotting the long spread of glimmering sand and people out enjoying nature and activity; the beauty and calm that God created even among one of the most powerful forces in nature; the ability to laugh and goof around and learn something new even among waters that on the right day or time could cause serious injury; and constantly surprised by creations of His hand like dolphins and fish and birds. A place which requires no money, no perfect outfit, no make-up, only one piece of equipment, allows for total freedom and expresses so much beauty.

I always knew I was a beach-girl at heart, and while some may not appreciate living in California, I thank God every Saturday that he allows me the pleasures of the beach and the ability to visit anytime I want!

Older

"Waited all my life for this day to come
I feel like letting go
Life goes on.
Wasting no more time
So much to be done.
Everything works out
So they say
Over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
Yeah, yeah

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
I always thought that I knew where I'd want to go
Now I'm here and I find that I'm still getting colder
It's kinda tough getting older

Here before my eyes
Many roads ahead
Time for me to choose one way now.
If I take a chance
What lies down the road
Feeling so confused
Turned around
On and on
On and on
Yeah, yeah

Waited all my life for this day to come
I feel like letting go
Life goes on
Over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
Yeah, yeah'

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older"

-Lyrics by Colbie Caillat

Paradoxical Worlds

We seem to live in a world of two dimensions, of being in 2 places in once. Not physically per se, but spiritually, emotionally, mentally.

I just came from an afternoon with one of my best friends, who coincidentally is my ex-boyfriend. Over the past few months, I have lived in a parallel universe of pain and joy. Loss, rejection, fear, depression, pain, anxiety – that is the one world which resulted from our breaking up. Yet each day I get up and pray and thank God for my day. I cover my face in make-up and dress in nice clothes and go to an office with a smile on my face and when people ask me how I am, generally reply, “Good, how are you?” without even thinking about it. And some days that’s the honest answer…other days I say it with a twinge of hope and the desire to conceal the hurt that lies underneath. Sometimes I feel the need to pretend, while other days I simply want to believe that, and by saying, “Good! How are you?” gives me a few seconds of feeling like everything is ok. And I know that many others are doing the same…we put on facades of everything being ok, living in a world of “good” and smiles and laughter, while our heart lives in a world of pain.

Yet some days I really do feel good. Some days I feel pleasure in small delights, in God’s hand of blessing, and in Him growing me. I rejoice in my friends, in a good job, in the sunshine and the outdoors, in the laughter and peace that comes from swinging at a park like when I was 10 years old. Some days I sense God’s presence and find joy in realizing he is giving me new dreams and desires and I nearly explode with excitement and anticipation of all that I could do, all the ways he could use me. I can go to bed crying one night, and be overwhelmed with peace the next morning. This is one of my two-dimensional worlds that I live in; Pain and Joy.

This morning I was first struck with this idea of having two lives, living in two-dimensions. On Thursday night I went down to minister in Hollywood as I do every week. Here, drugs are rampant, they are a known cure for covering pain and staying awake to avoid having to fall asleep on the street. Transvestites are absolutely normal, prostitution is an accepted form of making money, homosexuality is more common than heterosexuality, sex and alcohol and clubs and staying up on the streets until 3 in the morning or later is life as usual. Being in and out of prison is a common occurrence, homeless people are a typical sight on the street, violence, bad relationships, drama and poverty are a way of life.

This past week I found out that one person in particular, a young transvestite prostitute who I had so badly wanted to get to know and show Christ’s love to was murdered before any of us had the chance. I’m guessing there aren’t many people who will miss him….and that whoever so brutally murdered him will probably get away with it…and that this type of crime probably happens from time to time, though you won’t ever see it on the news or in a newspaper…you won’t even see a funeral being held. And yet all I have to do is drive 20-30 minutes and I’m back in Orange County, where I generally feel safe, where a transvestite would look terribly out of place, where street-sweepers keep our streets clean once a week. You don’t hear about murder around here too often, or see many homeless people, or even see people walking very often because everyone drives a car and affords gas. Here the biggest worry is what brand of jeans you wear or how big your paycheck is or if you’re driving the coolest new car.
I observe one lifestyle on Thursday nights, and am back in my comfortable bed on Friday mornings. Weekends I spend at the beach, in God’s amazing beauty, having fun and laughing and eating and watching people ride bikes and walk dogs and sit on the patios of their multi-million dollar beach-front houses. And if I so choose, I can forget that someone I knew went to spend eternity with Satan this week. How strange is that?

And as I thought about these paradoxical worlds, I thought about how this all relates to God. Since the fall, we live in a world that is not our home, that God never intended for us for eternity. We are to live as strangers in this world, knowing that we belong in Heaven and not on this earth. And so here, we also live in 2 worlds. One that enjoys the life given to us here on earth, but that is so full of sin and destruction that it always leaves us longing for eternity with our creator. Our lives here are but a mist, a vapor, because while we live here, our hearts are focused on Heaven and the joy that God has planned for us for all of eternity.

So I guess it’s okay that we live experiencing so many things at once, that our hearts are in different places at once, that we cry and laugh in one day, that we are content and still experience longing in one day, that 20 minutes can transport us to an entirely different lifestyle. God placed us in one world with a longing for another, and in this world that lets us experience contradicting emotions and desires and countless paradoxes. I’m just happy to know that one day it will all make sense, one day all we will do is worship and rejoice.

Reflections on a crazy God

"After the tears comes silence:
The slow night, the still sad time.
Rinsed, empty, scoured and sore with salt,
Spent, waiting without hope.
After the night comes the Lamb:
Bright morning star, with living water free
And fresh, the fruit of Friday's toil." - NT Wright


"This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
'Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved.
In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it.
You said, 'No, we will get our help from Egypt.
They will give us swift horses for riding into battle.' But the only swiftness you are going t osee is the swiftness ofyour enemies chasing you!...

So the Lord must wait for you to come to him
so he can show you his love and compassion.
For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help....
He will be gracious if you ask for help.
He will surely respond to the sound of your cires.
Though the Lord gave you adversity for food and suffering for drink, he will still be wiht you to teach you. " ~Isaiah 30:15


"Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strengh; He makes my feet like the feet of the deer, He enables me to go on the heights." Habakkuk 3:17-19

Socks, Dolphins, and Fish Tacos

"Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin…or a kind and loving gesture…or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort. Not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs...an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters…and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause."

This is a quote from the movie Stranger Than Fiction, which is also the title of one of my first posts, about this movie and the concept above. Thinking over this past weekend, I felt a smile pull at my lips as I recalled those nuances and subtleties that were sprinkled across three days to serve a much nobler cause.

Friday, to start, was a friend's birthday party...more akin to the birthday parties of elementary school with good friends and games; as opposed to the typical loud, drunken, stupid-fest that we so unoriginally participate in as we grow up. Not that the occasional dance-party laced with alcohol isn't fun, but there's something lovely about a pure, unadulterated hang out with pizza, cake, and party games. And I'm not sure if I need to say much more than this: men and women in their mid-20's playing at a park, sitting and standing on opposite sides of two bedsheets hung over a rope between two trees, throwing balled-up socks at each other until it all became so pointless that we were laughing at how competitive and fun throwing soft objects at each other could become.

Saturday was another simple day, yet filled with many pleasure and subtle joys. An early morning surf with a friend, and though we lovingly referred to it as "Lake Newport", there were a few good practice waves for me to briefly stand up and attempt dropping in to, and lots of time to lay around on the board, enjoying the small but calming waves. A few dolphins also swam by to our delight, and the rare ability to enjoy the water and some brief conversation instead of being pounded by waves made it one of those special surfing days in my mind.

The rest of my day was just my kind of afternoon...breakfast at Charlie's Chili...a casual walk down towards Balboa, then back the other direction past the pier...a stop in a donut shop for a Hawaiian Hazelnut Coffee, reminding me of a coffee I drank in Hawaii, which just seemed so appropriate at the beach...a jaunt down to the water, observing other beach-goers set up with tents and enough food for a week, and then a trip down the pier and a conversation with a guy doing some fishing. I would say for me, one of my greatest "subtle encourgements" is the beach...it's like a happy, mini-vacation filled with the sound of crashing waves, warm sun, and wind blowing through the palm trees. And nothing like the souvenier of a sunburn to make you feel like you've fully enjoyed the outdoors.

Saturday night I had the pleasure of going to church with a friend, followed by dinner at Wahoo's (which totally went with the beach, surfing theme of the day). Good conversation, girl-time, and the bright smile and encouragement of one of my newer friends was a huge blessing. Sunday was even more of that, a delicious lunch and drinks with a friend, and a day of rest, reading, and conversation. Friends, talking, people to spend time with...especially in the face of a difficult time in life, are perhaps the biggest, most sugary-sweet "Bavarian Sugar cookie" that God can serve us.

I didn't do anything particularl extraordinary or impressive this weekend, but all those little accessories to my days truly served a much greater purpose - healing, refreshment, and the reminder that it is God in all of those seemingly insignificant moments, joyfully blessing us, repairing hurt, preparing us for all that he has in store, and making each moment worth living because He is there.

He Changed Me

“You change me, You change me
Thank You, Jesus
I can see You change me

Like a bullet in a wound
It needs to be removed
But only by You, only by You
And though I feel so stuck
The hope in Your eyes is enough

To change me, You change me
Thank You, Jesus
I can see You change me”
-Bethany Dillon, Change


I’m feeling a little awkward posting this, because it’s really more like a journal entry which will make me vulnerable through telling ways that God has changed me. If he’s changed me, it means I had things about me that needed changing, and that is always humbling to admit. However, we rejoice when God works in people’s lives, and I suppose that includes mine. God is always at work in all of our hearts but we don’t often share, although it is often worthy of praise. So…here we go….

I recently ended a relationship; and to be honest, a relationship that I thought would never end. I suppose that to some extent big life changes like these cause us to pause and reflect, and hopefully teach us to seek God more and to find ways in which He might be speaking to us. I know for me this is true…I have had much time to reflect on what went wrong, how God is moving, what he is now filling that void with, etc. So for me, an easy measure of my life and how things have changed is about 2 years ago, because that is when this relationship began. In fact, it was exactly 2 years just this past week.

So I’ve been thinking lately, how was I different two years ago? How did I think, act, feel, relate to God, when I first started dating this person? I actually find it ironic that we broke up due largely to the fact that this person saw something he did not like in me, thought maybe I had changed, or my character had weakened. So of course, I am reflecting on what things he saw and what I need to be working on. The irony is that I feel that if he had truly seen all of me when we started dating, that he would see now that I have grown and changed in so many positive ways and am so much stronger spiritually now than I was then. But if that was the case, how would God have used this person to shape and mold me into the person I have become? I believe God used him as a mighty tool in my life, “as iron sharpens iron”, to create a much better Holly.

Some of these changes may seem small or not a big deal, but I do believe they please God, and that is not trivial. I already wrote one post about this - basically how I grew up very comfortable and privileged and assumed that the big house, nice cars and well-decorated house were what you aim for, that a good comfortable life is the best goal. These days, comfort is still appealing of course. Who doesn’t want a nice place to live? But the things I used to think about having: the nice decorations in the house, clothes, the nice cars and nice stuff flooding my life…it really is not that appealing anymore.

Mahatma Gandhi said, “May I live simply, that others may simply live.” In the face of what others lack, the idea of me having more than I need, or even want, just seems ridiculous. Why buy more clothes when I could give them away to people without jobs? Why buy more jewelry when really a few pieces will do? Do these things really make me more attractive, more important, more happy? Not at all. Yesterday I heard about a girl who sold almost all of her stuff, packed what she could into a few suitcases, and is moving to South America to teach. Why is something about that so appealing? No, I don’t want to move to South America, but the idea of living with only what you really need so that you can better serve others…that is attractive. I’ve begun to feel overwhelmed by the needless “stuff” I have in my little apartment, and have decided to get rid of some of it, simplify, and give what I can away to people who can’t just go out and buy this stuff.

I spend my Thursday nights with people who sell their bodies to afford a place to sleep, with homeless people and drug addicts who can’t find jobs because of the situation they’re in. Am I really going to go and buy more stuff to fill my already crowded apartment? I think a new outfit for work or a new shirt from time to time is reasonable, but the pleasure I used to find in shopping has basically turned into a constant “buyer’s remorse”. I feel yucky when I come home with bags filled with anything but food, like I’ve done something wrong. And perhaps is wasn’t wrong, but was it the wisest choice in how to use the blessing God has given to me? This was all a very slow and subtle change. I don’t think it happened all at once…but mostly through God’s use of this “ex” in my life to influence me. My perspective has shifted, and my eyes have been opened to so much around me…and I love it!

Another change hit me the other day. I was thinking about my vacation coming up in September, and what I should do during that time. I have a few options open, some of them costing more than others. And perhaps for the first time in my life I gave serious thought to whether I should actually spend the money to do something fun for myself, or to keep it simple and stay around home and use the money for something else. Or to spend my time doing ministry work, or going somewhere like New Orleans on a missions trip with my time. I still haven’t decided…but I remembered talking to a friend last year near vacation time about how she struggled with deciding between her desire to travel and get out of the US, and the need around her for missionaries to be supported and friends who needed money, etc, and how she should choose to use that money – for herself or for someone else. I still remember that conversation, and what went through my head, and it honestly makes me embarrassed to think about. Truly, my reaction (kept in my head) was, “hm, I’d spend it on the vacation. I mean, she makes a good point, but if you want to travel, go travel. Spend a little money to see the world, get away, experience something new.” I love traveling, and that too has ways of spurring growth and character development. But my first thought was always where I wanted to go and how I wanted to spend the money. Yes- give to others, support missionaries, etc; But sacrifice your vacation time, time with friends or family for that? I wasn’t quite sure about that idea. And in the course of the year, I realized in my heart I’ve done a total 180. I’m now faced with the same decision, deciding what God wants me to do with that money. He’s a crazy guy, God is. If you’re not careful, He’ll completely change you without you having the slightest clue.

2 years ago, I never would have thought I would sacrifice sleep and comfort once a week to hang out with prostitutes and drug addicts. 2 years ago, I had no idea I would love these people and my heart would break for them…2 years ago I wanted to continue in Personal Training, or Marketing, or PR….not consider full-time ministry. 2 years ago I thought I was supposed to aspire to the nice house, the comfortable job, the nice retirement, the perfect family, the nice vacations, and a strong relationship with God. 2 years ago I loved God and graduated with a minor in Bible…but I knew little of what Faith truly lived out is, I knew little of total dependence on God, little of asking him for direction before taking any action, little of sacrifice and giving up the things I wanted most for God. I didn’t look for ways to give my money away, I simply tithed because that’s what I was supposed to do and I wanted to give back to God. I didn’t get excited to share the gospel with people, I just tried to be an encouragement to those around me. 2 years later I find my confidence and beauty in Christ and what my Father says about me, not what others say or magazines tell me. 2 years ago I knew I had pride, but didn’t realize the depth of it….I knew I preferred comfort over obedience, but didn’t realize how it hindered my relationship with Christ. 2 years ago I couldn’t forsee the hurt I would experience in a serious relationship, and really didn’t expect a broken heart. But seeing how God has changed me, and how I needed to have this relationship to make some of those changes, I wouldn’t trade it in, even knowing it would end. And I have to say, knowing that this relationship may or may not ever be what it was again makes me incredibly sad. But I am confident that God has a good work to complete in me. And if this is part of his plan (as I already see that it is in how God is moving in my life), then I will continue to take it day by day, trusting in God for his best, expectantly waiting to see how he will mold me into the woman he desires me to be.


In the words of “Shane and Shane”:

“When I think about the Lord
how He saved, how He raised me
how He filled me with the Holy Ghost
how He healed me to the uttermost
when I think about the Lord
how he picked me up
turned me around
how He set my feet
on solid ground

It makes me want to shout
hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus!
Lord, you're worthy
of all the glory, and all the honor
and all the praise!
Hallelujah! thank you, Jesus!
Lord, you're worthy
of all the glory, and all the honor
and all the praise!”

Surfer Girl To Be

When I came out to college....6 years ago (yikes, when did I get old?...and old enough to ask a question like, "When did I get so old?")....I came with hopes and dreams of learning to surf. I've always loved the beach and everything about it...always envisioned myself marrying some blond, tan surfer dude from California. We would of course be rich and own a beach house, and spend our Saturday mornings running on the beach, or surfing together.

So, I told my brother-in-law that I wanted him to teach me. When that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, I asked a friend a college to teach me. 6 years later, and after asking a few other people, I'm finally learning. Surfing, the quintessential beach and summer sport. What true Californians do...what cute guys do...what tough chicks do.

I had visions of getting up on my board my first time out and finding out what it felt like to ride on a wave. Sure, it would take a while to get good, and it would be tough swimming past all of those waves, but it would be great. I'd go out every weekend and surf with all the dudes out early in the morning, the hardcore surfers. I'd finally be able to wear that "Surfer Chick" shirt I bought in Hawaii 6 years ago with pride; nevermind the fact I already got rid of it because I so wasn't a surfer chick, and had moved onto other, more trendy styles.

Oh, how foolish I was. My first time out with my friend Maceo went a bit more like this:

Get to the beach, and pull on our wetsuits and meander down to the sand with surfboards under arm, loving the feeling of totally fitting in with the Newport scene. Get to the sand, and realize that when the wind is blowing and you're carrying a 7-foot heavy slab around, the wind carries the board and you almost get knocked down. So, make it past the first element and get near the water. Study the waves (what am I looking for?) and head out into the cold Pacific water, ready to finally learn how to surf. We get to the point where you lay on the board and begin to paddle out. This is where my hopes and dreams are essentially dashed and I realize I am not going to be "surfer chick" anytime soon.

Laying down on the board apparently requires balance - who knew? I lay down, and pretty much immediately fall right off. Get back on, and paddle while wavering side to side, trying with all my might not to fall off again. "Why is it so hard to lay on a board?" I ask Maceo. The laughter begins, as I realize I'm such a joke and so not athletically inclined. I mean, I'm a pretty good swimmer, I have good core balance, but throw a board under me and it's all over. I find that I have this weird inclination to lean my weight to the right, and have to intentionally tell myself to shift my hips so that I don't keep falling over. We make it past the breaking waves, now out where we can sit on our boards and watch the waves come in.

Now if laying on the board was tough, sitting on the board is pretty much a comedy act. Over and over, I sit up on the board, and when the tiniest movement of a wave comes around me, I'm already off. I thought I had some semblance of balance, but apparently not. Why did no one ever tell me that simply sitting on a board requires mass skill in itself - forget actually standing up on a board. The next 20 minutes or so are basically a montage of me sitting on the board, bumped by waves, my board turning over, feet flying up in the air, hands batting the board away so as to not acquire any laseratoins, splashing, spitting, and laughing so much that it makes all of this that much harder.

I finally realize that sitting on the board is just not the way to go for me. Nor is laying sideways to see the waves. Instead, laying on the board, facing the shore, and waiting for Maceo to tell me when a wave is coming is a much more effective plan. I try to ignore the other surfers who can obviously tell I'm new and have no idea what I'm doing, and am pretty much just getting in their way.

The rest of the day goes a bit better, learning to watch and paddle as waves come, and simply riding them in body-board style. This part actually seems to work quite well for me. I don't know whether to aim right or left when I go with the wave, I just let Maceo tell me that. But riding them in works quite well for me; standing on a board, pfsh - who needs it? I always enjoyed body surfing in Hawaii, this is even better...perhaps I'll just stick with this....But no, that image of the surfer girl, the one who tells people, "Yeah, I surf. I go out about every week...no, I don't use a long board....the news said the surf is going to be great this weekend, I'm totally going out"...is stuck in my head. I wanted to learn how to surf, and gosh dangit I'm going to learn...I didn't come out here to body board.

The last hour of the morning I spend in the "white wash", attempting to "pop-up" on the board. Which turns out to be more like shallow body-boarding, legs flailing, feet getting cut up on shells, bashing against the board but never really making it up, and drinking a lot of salt water. But I can say for myself at this time, I would be a great knee-boarder. I'm a pro at getting my knees on the board and riding a wave. Even kneeling on one knee and one foot attempting to get up. Perhaps I will trade in my board for a boat and a knee board...oh wait, no, I'm here to learn how to surf.

3 hours later I am no surfer girl...I can't stand up on a board. But i can sit out in the water and watch waves and ride them in lying down. And I can kneel on my board when dropping in on a wave, er, foamy white wash breaking at shore. However, I am still triumphant. I am one step closer to being a surfer girl...I am on my way to learning and standing up on the waves and riding them in like the big boys.

(I've been out a few times since, and can happily say that I am now able to stand up on a board. Last night I was planning to actually try to ride the real waves, but the sky was overcast, the waves were choppy, and most of my time was spent trying not to be to swept down the shoreline and being taken out by a 9-foot board that probably weighs more than I do. )

One day soon I'll be able to strut proudly in my wetsuit, board under arm, knowing that I'm actually going out to ride the waves and cut through water with elegance and ease, instead of just being a poser with a borrowed surfboard and lots of bruises.

"Be Still and know that I am God"

I believe it was Rick Warren who said in a sermon, “When you worry, you replace God with worry.”

Why is it so hard to believe and trust in God to do what is best for us, that he has a better plan for us than we could come up with, and to give him control of our lives? Why do we always think that we know better, when there is a sovereign, infinite God watching over us who sees everything that we don’t – even the future? The psalms are full of verses about God giving us the delights of our heart, of blessing us, or taking care of those who love him.

I agree with what my friend Cynthe wrote on her blog, that “good” does not always mean comfortable, easy, joyful, etc. God is good, and he wants what is best for us, even if that doesn’t look like what we believe to be the best for us.

I have a situation in my life that hurts, it’s difficult and disappointing, yet I know that God is at work in it, and have seen him give me a tremendous amount of peace despite this situation, even as a result of the situation. Yet I still find myself struck with fear, almost daily, of what the future will bring, and of losing something that I so desperately want to cling to. Each day, I have to remember once again that God is in control, he has something better for me, and to surrender it back to him.

As a result, I have recently found myself living with fear and impatience for my future, the unknown, and unfulfilled desires. I know this time is good for me, I see God more, and yet I daily replace God and his wisdom with my own worry and the feeling that I know better. This quote from A.W. Tozer sums it up so well, “As long as we question the wisdom of any of God’s ways our faith is still tentative and uncertain. While we are able to understand, we are not quite believing.”

I understand about 22 hours out of the day God’s goodness and best plan for my life. But maybe 4 of those hours are actually spent believing. If we truly believed in God’s best for us, in his promises, why would we fear? Why would I worry and become anxious and ask him for help?

I believe my car is safely parked outside in the parking lot where I left it this morning, I have absolutely no fear that I will be able to drive home today as I normally do. I know my car is there, I will be able to walk to it when my day ends, and I don’t think about it during the day. (Well, except maybe when I hear a car alarm go off and wonder if someone is breaking into mine, but that’s very rare). Likewise, if I truly believe that God is good and that he loves me and that he is in control of my life, why do I so often worry about what He’s going to do? If I look at past experiences, when God lead my life in a way I didn’t want it to go, I shortly after realized it truly was best and had a much better outcome than if I had gotten what I wanted.

I know God has a good plan for me, yet I have my own perfect plan for my life, and I am anxious that the two will not align; all the while aware that if my plan fails, His will be better. Oh, it makes me so irritated with myself sometimes!
“Faith is simply the bringing of our minds into accord with the truth. It is adjusting our expectations to the promises of God in complete assurance that the God of the whole earth cannot lie.” – A.W. Tozer.

I suppose it is part of dying to ourselves daily, and of moment-to-moment surrender, to see God for who He is and to truly believe that He always does what is best, even when we can’t see it. He is, after all, the Creator of the Universe…perhaps he really does know just a bit more than we do. Praise God, for He is good!

Blessed are the Poor in Spirit

I have worked and lived in Orange County, CA for the past 6 years, one of the most affluent, materialistic, comfort-seeking areas in America. I grew up in Littleton, CO, a beautiful, quiet suburban town outside of Denver. I have been upper-middle class my entire life, along with most of my friends, and lived under the idea that life should be that way. Of course, as Christians we shouldn’t prize our possessions too highly, or put too much worth on outer-beauty; and I would even say that I and the people I know have done a decent job of that. We try our best to put God first and never make idols out of material things or wealth. Yet I’m willing to venture that deep-down, we aren’t quite convinced that we really need God. We say we do and we think we do, and in many emotionally empty ways we know we do…yet I hesitate to say that we truly believe it. I mean in the way that we live, where every action and decision speaks to our dependence on God and his plans for us.

People like me grow up in nice large homes, full of more food than we can even eat before it expires; we dine out several times a week, we go out and buy new clothes whenever we feel like it. We attend church and youth group functions, maybe give a few weeks over the summer to missions trip. Go to good schools, study, work hard to get good grades and achieve our best. Of course this is so we can get into a good college, and then pray that our choice is in God’s will. We get jobs to pay for our nights out with our friends, movies, cell-phones, or the newest fashion trend. We network and go to special events to meet the right people in order to find the right jobs, and take internships to slowly climb the ladder and build our resume. Then we graduate and get jobs which pay for our bills, our homes, our food, our cars, and build up our savings for our futures, or to afford bigger and better things. We budget, we set aside money for vacations and 401k’s, nice retirements and work towards the perfect home, the perfect husband or wife, the perfect family. We get involved at church with children’s ministry or in small groups. That’s pretty much life. We strive, we work hard, we plan and prepare and make good lives for ourselves. I mean, of course we pray daily, we tithe, we study God’s work, we ask for His will and blessing, we strive to please him in all that we do, we hope to serve him with our lives, and we whole-heartedly love Him.

There isn’t necessarily anything wrong with that path…I have plenty of reason to believe from reading God’s word that he desires to bless his people, that he wants to give to us and offer us joyful, peaceful lives. However…might I also be so bold to say that, just maybe, that was not all God had intended for us. That a happy home, nice job and serving God’s people may not be God’s ideal for our lives
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven…” – Matthew 5

These are not the most pleasant of ideas when you really look at them. Mourning….meek…poor in spirit….hunger….persecuted. None of these seem to factor into my life, not really anyway. Now, these may have been directed at a certain audience in Jesus’ time who lived much different lives than we do. Perhaps they are not saying that we should be like this necessarily, but that if you are you will still be blessed. It may not be theologically correct to say that God is saying these exact things to us today, or telling us to be this way. However, I would say that there is something to living with this kind of mindset that still applies to us. Not just that it offers hope when you are down, but that there is something in this kind of hard life that brings us closer to Jesus, makes him sweeter than before, and teaches us true faith and dependence on him.

I used to read these “beatitudes” and think they were a nice idea, but didn’t fully understand them. A person who mourns, who is poor in spirit, who is meek – is a person like this truly blessed, fully at peace, enjoying a full life, or even find it easy to praise God all the time? I’d be willing to say no. But you know what? They need God…I mean, they really need him. He’s not just a nice idea to them, no, they actually know what it means to hunger and thirst for him…often because they are so low they don’t even have any real food to eat.

God has given me several opportunities over the last few months to spend time with these types of people in many different capacities. And I have to say, that in my 24 years of living, I have probably learned more about God from these people than anyone else.

One of my best friends is this type of person, due to circumstances that God has put him into. His life just plain sucks sometimes; but he’s dependent on God for everything. His heart is so willing and open to what God wants, no matter how hard, no matter how “poor in spirit” it makes him. But his faith is inspiring, it teaches me something new almost every day, and it shows me that I am far to prideful, too in control of my own life, and that I should be willing to put my own comfort on the line to sacrifice for Jesus every single day.

I talked with many homeless men in New Orleans last month whose lives are hard and scary most of the time. They are not always happy, they worry, they fear, but they are also utterly dependent on God. The repeat phrases of scripture to get them through the day. And if they don’t already know God, they know that they have need of something bigger, need of hope, and their hearts are open.

Just last week I was in Hollywood until about 2am spending my time with homosexuals, druggies, and transvestites. They know their lives are hard, empty, and full of hurt. The get caught up in vicious cycles of prostitution to pay bills, then drugs, then prostitution to support their drug addiction. When we talked, they shared their lives and their hurts and they know how depraved they are.

Of course Jesus hung out with these types of people! It makes so much sense. If I was Jesus, I would have hung out with them too, not Pharisees like me. There are plenty of days when I know I need God, but I don’t honestly feel it. I’ve spent years thinking I could handle it and that I was in control, and God was just kind of my backup and my buddy. Why would Jesus want to spend his time with people like me? People who barely realize that without him they are nothing? As I become more aware of my need, my sin and weaknesses…as I experience hurt and pain, and see others in the middle of it, I get it. Those are the times that I cry out to God, that I talk to him the most, that I need him the most, when I truly feel his presence and blessing, and when I learn what it is to praise him. That is when he teaches me compassion, love, and grace for others; because then I know just a little of what it feels like to hurt and need compassion and need love.

My Orange County / Littleton life does not lend itself, at least in my case, to a meekness or humility or mourning, the life that Jesus addressed in Matthew. That is a life about me and my comfort, not about him and suffering for his name and living in desperate need of him in view of his mercy. I want to know God the way that the poor and needy and orphaned do. I pray that my life would not be about me and filling my hopes and dreams and desires. And that’s hard, because even other Christians lead me to believe that’s what my life should be about. But instead, I hope that it would be used to show God’s love to those who don’t yet know him. That I hand out with those that Jesus did, and cling to him in the same way. These words from one of my new favorite songs sum it up perfectly:

“You sit at the table
With the wounded and the poor;
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore.
And when you could just be silent
And leave us here to die,
Still you sent your son for us;
You are on our side.”
-Bethany Dillon

Sad Day

Today is a sad day for me…a day of mourning and regret. It is the end of an era, the loss of a happy time….yes, it’s the TV series finale of my treasured Tuesday night vice, Gilmore Girls. I wrote in a previous post about Bavarian Sugar cookies, the idea of those little things in life that make your day, and add joy to the mundane. And now it as if I have been eating my Bavarian sugar cookies every Tuesday, and this time, someone came over, ripped it ruthlessly from my hand, and took a huge bite out of it. No more sugar cookie for me.

If you know me at all, you know that Gilmore Girls has a significant role in my life, as sick as that is. Some people watch sports, other gossip about Hollywood fashion and who’s dating who….but I watch Gilmore Girls. Every Tuesday night. And not just Tuesdays, oh no, that’s only when a new one is on. But when those aren’t playing, I am often watching DVD’s from previous seasons while I eat, or check e-mail, or just feel like doing relaxing.

It’s like…the ultimate show. Funny, dramatic, full of pop culture humor, and characters that talk faster than any normal person would ever talk, but with each line so full of wit and brilliance. The characters are unique and random, and you never know what to expect. It’s not forced, it’s not predictable, it’s not a lame sitcom or overly dramatic mystery show. In fact, it rarely has a really good point or deep lesson. But sometimes the characters do or say things that remind me so much of myself, I can’t help but find it humorous and be amazed. It captures daily life and unique, quirky people, and actually makes you think that living in a tiny town with nosy people would be fun. I say, it’s one of the best-written and most creative shows on TV. And it’s leaving me. I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. Cry, I suppose…whine…hold a memorial service…and then I think I will get on with my life like a normal person...

Failing Gloriously

I spend my days living in my own version of the TV show, The Office, and am often left with lots of spare time at work, unsure of what to do. Right now is one of those moments, in which I was randomly inspired to write, mainly for the sake of Erin, who just mentioned playing tennis.

And when she asked if we play tennis, I had a flashback to my days of “Ghetto Tennis”, which I played with my friend Lindsay on the dark, cool summer evenings in Littleton, CO. That thought prompted a reminder of something else my best friend often says, “If I’m going to win (or succeed), I’ll win gloriously. And if I fail, then I’ll fail gloriously.”

I have come to terms with the fact that I am just mediocre at many things. I was just not born with certain skills, or the drive to perfection in certain areas of my life. But with this realization comes a child-like joy in the fact that if I’m going to be mediocre, I’m going to be gloriously mediocre!

And so as an example, I will relive my days of “Ghetto Tennis.” I believe our motto was, “We don’t got no shoes, we don’t got no keys, we don’t go no skills….we be ghetto.” (and yes, this was coming from 2 middle-upper class suburban white girls of about 18 years old). Lindsay and I were both aware that we just plain sucked at tennis. Some random summer evening, we scrounged up some tennis rackets (who knows where, since I don’t think us or our families really played), a few tennis balls, and got the idea to go attempt to play. Attempt being the key word. And from this mediocre attempt, “Ghetto Tennis” was born.

Ghetto Factor #1: the tennis courts were locked after a certain hour, and we both had keys from around 1990, meaning the locks had been changed. So, depending on the time and our luck, we would either find a court that had been left open, or somehow climb into the court. I forget exactly how it worked, but it was something like that. So basically, we had to break into the courts in order to play.

Ghetto Factor #2: I think after we arrived at the courts (and since no one was around to look at us funny), we just took off our shoes and messed around. We took our stance on either side of the net, and began running around on the dirty court in bare feet. It’s not like either us really hit the ball, or hit it quickly, so there wasn’t much running back and forth to do anyway.

Ghetto Factor #3: Feeding off of the last factor, we really had no skills. We could both serve it over the net at least (probably making up our own technique), and from time to time the other person would actually hit it and send it back over the net. Although I recall several times when Lindsay would hit it to me and it would bounce 2 or 3 times before I actually hit it. Or the best were the classic moves where one of us would swing the racket with all of our might, and completely miss the ball. If I recall correctly, in the midst of this, there was a lot of making fun of each other, jokes about how our thunder thighs were cracking the ground beneath us, and a lot of laughter about how we sucked. Of course, there those rare moments when we would hit it back and forth, maybe 10 times (of course we would count, because it amazed us both), until one of us would eventually mess it up (probably me), and then we’d go back to 1 or 2 hits at best before it flew past our racket, or got caught up in the net.

And after about 15-20 minutes of this, we would both start moving slower, hitting carelessly, and eventually we’d both be sitting down on the court, talking about the latest happenings at school or in our friend’s lives. And so we’d sit for another good 30 minutes or so and just chat and make fun of each other some more, discuss boys, and laugh. And of course, that was when we came up with our slogan: “We ain’t got no keys, we ain’t got no shoes, we ain’t got no skills…we be ghetto.”

So yes, we were both mediocre at best. But we were gloriously mediocre – we made a big joke of it, we laughed at our lack of skill, and we made some dang good memories together. And to me, that’s much more significant than a really good round of tennis.

Tears

Her vision becomes blurry as small drops of water form,
Gradually growing until they spill over onto her blushed cheek,
Down past the crevices of her mouth and fall onto her lap.

She closes her eyes, the beads of water becoming steady streams;
She lifts her hands to her damp face and drops her head into them.

They fall continually, until it becomes hard to breathe;
A slight gasp, a groan, and then her cries are silent,
so intense that she cannot make a sound.
Her whole body begins to ache as they support her quiet tears,
And she wonders if they will ever stop.

For a moment, perhaps, but they will continue with no immediate end in sight.
They hurt, her body hurts, and her heart breaks.

Her face is now drenched, her hands full of water,
her eyes becoming swollen and raw,
even her clothing is moistened from the tears.

And then He speaks to her, into the silence, out of nowhere.
He doesn’t say that everything will be okay,
He doesn’t tell her to stop, He doesn’t tell her not to worry,
In fact no words are spoken at all.
But His hands stretch out underneath her chin,

And she watches through cloudy eyes,
As her pool of tears trickle down into secure, steady hands.
They are big, and they are weathered, and they are there to catch her tears.

And though the tears keep coming, and the hurt still stings,
His Hands catch every drop that falls,
and it is well.

Love

Love is patient and kind.
Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.
It does not demand its own way.
It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.
It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."
1 corinthians 13:4-7

Irreconcilable Differences

"In the United States it can be one ground, often they are used as justification for a no-fault divorce. Any sort of difference between the two parties that either cannot be changed or the individual does not want to make the change can be considered irreconcilable differences."

Irreconcilable Differences….what does that mean? Why is it that hundreds, maybe thousands of people, break their wedding vows and use the lame excuse of irreconcilable differences? Did God say: “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate….unless they have differences that they just can’t resolve".

I often wonder what this means, as you hear this as the basis for so many celebrity divorces. Britney and Kevin, Nick and Jessica, Elizabeth and Hugh….What was so hard that they couldn’t fix or work through? Or did they just lose “that loving feeling” and are out to find it again in someone else?

I find it very interesting that part of this definition states: “or the individual does not want to make the change”. Wow, really? I mean, ok, if your husband wants you to become a porn star, or the wife wants her husband to be a drag queen (I mean, what girl doesn’t want that?) then okay, maybe those are things you shouldn’t want to change. And I’m not exactly sure what God would have to say about that, either. And yes, there are some terms for which divorce may be the best answer….physical abuse or a partner that can’t stay faithful…then divorce may have potential. After all, a relationship is intended to glorify God.

But if one person just doesn’t want to change…I just don’t understand that. There may be things that are hard to change, or take time and willingness…but for someone to simply say they don’t want to make a change, and therefore their own personal comfort and happiness is more important than keeping a bond together that God has formed…. It’s a bit of a mystery to me. I guess we all have a tendency to think that we are right, and we want everyone else to think and act like us. Or God has revealed something to us, and we assume that anyone who hasn’t had that revealed to them is worse than us?

Marriage is supposed to reflect the relationship of God to the Church. Does God just give up on the church, and stop trying to work with it? Does the church just say, “I’m over it God. This is too hard and I just don’t want to change to be more like you. Peace out!” Well, I guess lots of people do that, but hopefully the church as a whole doesn’t. We constantly strive to be more like him; and we fail, oh yes we fail miserably. But God waits and he helps us with his Holy Spirit, and slowly that change happens. And sometimes there are consequences to our failures, but God still loves us, he still chooses us.

So are there really differences that can’t be overcome? I guess if at least one or both of the people involved just don’t want to put in the effort necessary to overcome them, then yes, it’s possible. After all, God created us all very differently. But I would like to think that just as God demonstrates his love and faithfulness and abounding grace in our lives, that we can live our relationships in accordance with that model.

After the Tragedy

Perhaps the most horrible part of tragedy is not the actual event, but the repercussion and consequences of that disaster. In light of recent national events, and time to reflect on my own experiences, I am compelled to pray for so many people in need, and ask others to do the same.

When a “tragedy” strikes, there is generally a lot of instant sympathy, prayers, rescue aid, support, media attention, etc. The individuals or group going through the tragedy realize that they have many people who are watching and praying and thinking about them. Money, donations and support pour in, notes of sympathy, moments of silence, news coverage with titles like “Special Report” accompanied by sad music and somber voices of reporters. In the middle of chaos and shock, all that matters is getting through the moment, releasing emotion through tears and sadness, and dealing with loss. And there seem to be many supporters to help them grieve and cope.
This can be seen with the incident at Virginia Tech recently, right before the anniversary of the Columbine shooting. Another example is Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans and Mississippi.

Though these incidents are horrific and traumatizing that in the aftershock, there is so much sympathy and support and understanding, it actually makes it slightly easier to manage. But as a former student of Columbine High School, and recently having seen the state of affairs in New Orleans, Louisiana, I know for a fact that the ripple effect of these “storms” is often the hardest part.

Just as it was with Columbine, so it will probably be with Virigina Tech. In a few weeks and months, people will forget. The nation will go back to its normal worries of money and Iraq and distractions like tanning salons and nice cars and designer purses. They will deal with their own issues, and forget about those students that they mourned with for a day or two. As they move on with their lives, they will assume that the students affected by this horror are also moving on, and forget to pray or show support.

Meanwhile, these students will be left with memories of friends and fellow students, the sickening sound of gunshots, and media cameras buzzing around like annoying mosquitoes. They will be haunted by images of Cho speaking angrily into a camera, holding guns that he employed to kill 32 people. They will attempt to go back to classes and concentrate, attend funerals, avoid movies with guns, break out in tears for no reason….and move on slowly with their lives while everyone else around them forgets. Forgets to pray, forgets about them, and only remembers their own problems. And in one year, it will be plastered across the news again when the anniversary comes around, for people to mourn and remember for one day, and then forget again. Meanwhile, the survivors will carry on with wounds in their heart and bad memories, missing their friends and family. They will still have nightmares, still be frightened by certain sounds or images, and have no one but each other to remember to pray for them or offer encouragement.

Of course, I am not exempt from this behavior. Having just been to New Orleans, I realize my own tendency to do this. In fact, I tend to lack the empathy from the beginning – when you are not close to the situation, it just doesn’t impact you much. But I realized the need for compassion and for a helping hand going down there. I can’t even begin to imagine what they went through, even when I hear their stories. It didn’t hit me hard when it first happened 20 months ago, because it’s far away and does not affect my daily life. My job and friends and time were just more important to me. But my prayers and efforts are so appreciated, and I had no idea. Why didn’t I go down to help from the beginning? I’m trying to figure out which pair of shoes to buy, and they’re just trying to find a pair of shoes to slosh through the water with.
The residents of Louisiana are also forgotten - a few months pass, and people move on. The news shows a Mardi Gras celebration as the city rebuilds, and everyone feels warm fuzzies, happy that they are getting on with their lives. But they are left to live with it every day, with little help from the government, and few volunteers to help them rebuild. They struggle on by themselves now, struggling for food and clothing and a place to live, while people in other parts of the country go to a home every night, out to eat, and shop for anything they want from their local mall or boutique. Is anyone still praying for these people?
As I write, I realize this concept applies to anyone going through a hard time as well. Everyone is compassionate in the beginning, but somehow we all get caught up in our own issues and forget about each other. (And also something that I desperately need to work on). Sometimes all you need is a listening ear, a compassionate heart and some prayer, months or even years after the ordeal.

“A religious man is a person who holds God and man in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair. “ – Abraham Joshua Heschel

Windows to the Soul

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. I’m not sure that I always feel that to be true, though I know there is truth in this poetic idea. But this past week…well, I guess you could say that I saw many souls. And beautiful souls at that, ones that have impacted me beyond what I ever expected.

I spent 5 days in New Orleans helping with Hurricane Katrina Relief work. God opened the door about as wide as it could go for me to travel down there to help. And so I walked through it, not sure of what to expect, but stepping out in faith for Him to use me…

Imagine the brightest pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen – not as light as the blue sky, not as dark as the ocean waters, but piercing swirls of a blue more akin to what you might see on your computer screen, a bright, cerulean kind of blue. They sparkle, surrounded by deep lines which display the laughter and smiles that have lifted these eyes in their many years, and are almost warm as they say hello. Step back a bit, and you see gray hair, the round body of a true New Orleanian accustomed to fried foods, and a bit of a tired demeanor. But the eyes – a window to the soul of a man who devotes his days to serving the people in his community, to giving out pounds and pounds of food, water, clothes and diapers, to people who cannot afford it by themselves. Sure, he probably struggles to buy these things for himself, but he’d rather worry about other’s needs. If you ask him how he’s doing, you will probably hear something like, “Blessed by God.” A man who will not let one of these go from his presence before lifting them up in prayer to the God he serves so diligently and so joyfully….

Ron invited our team to step into his crazy world for a few days, in which we were able to catch a glimpse of many more souls whom he meets on a regular basis. Now imagine the contrast of these bright, joyful, sparkling blue eyes…

Dark, nondescript circles of brown or gray….nearly a reflection of the flood waters that carried dirt and dust for days and days, and which hold little purity anymore. Eyes that rarely sparkle or shine, which also carry lines around with them - lines carved in from worry, tears, fear, and discouragement. Just like the waters that savagely cut through and carved into their homes, workplaces, cars, and their lives. When you look through these windows, you see a deep, dark pit of frustration and just a slight tinge of hope, which keeps them pressing on through the remnants of those dirty flood waters. Person after person seemed to display souls very similar to that of the next person. You ask one of these how they are doing, and you’ll probably hear, “Making it through,” “Doing okay,” or, “Surviving.” How it hurts to hear them say it. These are people who survived a deadly hurricane 20 months ago, and are still barely making it because there is so little help, and so little hope.

And do you know why their windows are so cloudy? Well, one is living in a trailer, unsure of when the government will take it back from him, asking for food after coming straight from a funeral. A woman’s son is angry and mean and can’t comprehend what has happened, while she also deals with the guilt of the loss of her mother, who she found dead after the storm kneeling in prayer. One man’s sister was left for dead in a nursing home, another’s father is in the hospital having a triple bypass while she prays that God take her instead of her parents, one tells a story of cutting herself out of her attic with a chainsaw after being stuck for 4 hours in fear of the growing waters and wind. These souls do not scoff when you ask them if you can pray for them, they are not opposed, they gratefully accept, even if they don’t know Jesus….and then come back week after week for the same thing, forced to humbly depend on other people for survival.

Imagine another pair of dark, clear, empty eyes that as you speak slowly become brighter and feel creases as they lift in a smile. A soul so tired and worn, eyes that have seen too much. And yet there is joy…because he knows Jesus. Step back and you see a tall, skinny, 60 year-old black man in search of a warm meal. A man who is temporarily homeless…who dragged himself to a New Orleans Mission simply to get some food….who lost nieces and nephews as they drowned in those terrible flood waters of hurricane Katrina, trapped in their home. A man who survived because God told him a way out…and who repeats to himself Psalms 37:16, “Better the little that the righteous have than the wealth of many wicked.” He can barely see the words in the bible because the words are so small, but he doesn’t need to see to know these words. Because he feeds off of them, he lives on the very words of God. He didn’t come to the mission looking for love, or even conversation, just food. But he left with someone who showed they cared and that the Holy Spirit used to keep him around to hear scripture and encouragement shared by many others like him.

There are so many others like this in Louisianna, struggling to make it through. But I saw, maybe truly for the first time, what Jesus saw in his time on earth. These are who He came for, this is who he loves, who he spent his time with.

There may be few people in New Orleans who are truly happy….their lives have just been too hard, and continue to bring struggles each new day. But from those who know God intimately, to those who are just trying to make it through….they live on slices of hope, on a bit of laughter, from the help that comes from others, and on the very words of a miracle-working God. Oh, that my eyes might one-day reflect a soul like these, so humble, and so in need of Jesus....“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Stranger Than Fiction

A friend suggested that I see the movie Stranger Than Ficton, and so I took her up on that advice, not setting my expectations too high, but happy for an excuse to enjoy a relaxing evening at home.

And I’m so glad that I did - I would highly recommend it, mostly due to the complexity of the movie. Simple, yet very deep and very true. It was one of those movies that everything pulled together so well in the end, and this last quote had me smiling like a big dork, alone in my small apartment. The way it was written, and the way it rang true to me, left me feeling very pleased with these few hours spent on my futon. For those who have either intentionally sought out this movie, or like myself, just happened to kind of stumble onto it, the following quote might sound familiar. (To be read slowly, and with a British accent):

“As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin…or a kind and loving gesture…or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort. Not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs...an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters…and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.”

It is so true. Now of course, it is God who saves our lives…but he allows us these little blessings in life which are really what it is all about, and what makes each day better, special, unique, joyful. This is something that I have been realizing in my own life, which is why these last few lines were so profound to me, and gave me goosebumps.

My pastor spoke recently about how we believe we are entitled to certain things. You live a Godly life, and you expect good things. For him, it is an issue with his son, who has developmental problems. This has been a huge struggle for him and his wife, and one of those things that leaves them feeling like: “We should have a normal son. We deserve normal children.” But they have also found dependence on God through this, learning what dying to yourself means. They have found trust in Him and the realization that they are not entitled to anything….and the pure joy that comes when his son accomplishes something so small. To most parents, some simple acts are normal, and not nearly as “celebrated” as when his son is able to accomplish something. And in the middle of hardship, they are able to appreciate the smallest milestones with huge gratitude and celebration, because they realize how prized that is, and that they were never deserving of it in the first place. And he followed, nearly in tears: "what better way to live?"

There have been 2 times for me which, when losing myself in fear, routine, or hopelessness, that those “accessories” were realized as the most important parts of my day. My boyfriend and I spent two-weeks apart with no communication. And it was in the absence of what I felt was normal, deserved and routine…that I was able to truly appreciate all of the subtleties that make our relationship such a treasure. The phone calls to start and end each day, enjoying music together, our frequent trips to Rubio’s, our boxing matches in my apartment, our conversations of workouts and protein that most would find crazy…the conversations about entirely inappropriate things that are somehow so funny…a hand to hold when you’re scared or worried, having someone to tell about your day, and knowing there’s someone who wants to tell you about their’s… These are my “Bavarian sugar cookies”.

And out of that break came similar revelations about God…that there are so many blessings and joys that come from simply knowing him, that we often neglect to recognize. The way he always shows himself when you really seek him out…friends he has put in my life, who turned to be more plentiful than I even realized…the support of prayer….a coffee date with someone that provides immense comfort…the joy that he can shower on you when you simply wait in his presence and cry out to him for peace…wisdom He gives, even in the strangest places…and knowing that if He never gives you any of those things, he is still good and knows what is best and loves us, and that is all that truly matters.

That same pastor said something to the effect of “it is sometimes in the valleys, the hard times when it almost feels like He’s not there... that God teaches does His greatest work, and it is almost proof that he is working as he strips away our selfishness. Without the empty, hard, unpeaceful times in life we might not ever recognize the best things in life, and never appreciate the blessings and grace that God has poured out on us. Without the valleys, can we ever really know his grace?

Just like the quote says, the anomalies don’t just accessorize our days, but they are effective for a much nobler cause. And so now I wake up thanking God for a shower, for friends to pray for, for an amazing best friend and boyfriend that I can count on… for a great bed to sleep in, for few money worries and for the joy in giving it away….for silly e-mails at work that seem like a waste of time, but truly enrich the soul…for food to enjoy…for a job that’s fun and easy, for a cell phone, for a car to drive me anywhere I want to go…for friends to talk to…for good coffee in the morning – or at night – and for the knowledge that in times of drought, we can still bear fruit and have confidence in God. (Proverbs 1).

These things are not just part of my day, they are what make my day worth living and which always turn me back to God in thanksgiving, knowing that He is what I live for, but he has chosen to bless me with all of the “nuances and anomalies” which serve for a much greater cause.

Drinking Drinks

I have been perusing the postings of some friend’s blogs (which I used to think were one of the most ridiculous inventions), and appreciating the humor that comes out of the most simple things in life. This goes right along with my previous post and the idea that is it these seemingly minor things in life that really make it great.

And this led me to think about beverages. Now, I share this with some hesitation due to childhood trauma inflicted by my brother who used to joke about me and my fondness of “fun” drinks. As if it were my only hobby, he would tease, “You love drinking cool drinks”. He meant it in a loving way, but I became a bit paranoid about sharing my love of certain beverages…although I will admit that I really did enjoy trying new and interesting drinks. Virgin pina coladas, strawberry lemonade, sparkling cranberry/orange/raspberry/who-knows-what-else specials found on restaurant menus.

“Dad”, I would lean over and whisper as we went out for a birthday or Christmas celebration at Red Lobster, “Can I get this drink?” I would ask him innocently as I pointed to the menu, trying to keep it on the down-low that I once again wanted the opportunity to entertain my taste buds and try something new and exciting. And knowing that I would once again hear my brother mock me: “You love drinking drinks.” Yeah, yeah, I know.

Now, much of this drink consumption (and I’m not talking alcoholic-necessarily) has been halted due to my increased awareness of these pesky little things called “calories” and this other annoying substance called “sugar”. But I’ll be honest, that love of certain beverages still lurks inside of me…they are my “Bavarian sugar cookies” (see post above). And this is proved to me as I sit at my desk, looking at the 3 different cups/mugs staring mockingly at me. Coffee, water, and an empty mug often filled with unusual teas.

Erin, a friend at work, recently posted about Diet Coke, which is what actually made me think about the whole beverage phenomenon. I think I got roped into the whole artificially sweetened drink-thing that I used to be so opposed to when I started working at ECCU. Constantly surrounded by co-workers unknowingly enticing me into the pleasure-filled world of calorie-free drinks. Erin’s post cracked me up, because it really is a great (yet mostly artificial) beverage. I mean, why is that when I forget to pack a diet soda in my lunch, I will scrounge through my wallet and purse and car about 5 times to find every last dime and nickel, hoping to find exactly $.65 in order to have that glorious diet coke from the vending machine at lunch? It’s sad, really.

And then there’s wine – and no, I don’t drink it every night or scrounge for money to be able to buy it, so don’t be thinking I’m a lush. But it’s a symbol of many things to me, and there’s something very pleasant about drinking it (and not just because it makes you feel pleasant). But really the first times I enjoyed wine were in countries where it is part of the culture, and so much more than just a means to drunkenness.
In France it is an atmospheric part of a meal which lasts for hours, enjoyed as part of a ritual, a role in bonding with friends and family over good conversation and rich food. Or as part of a grown-up dessert of wine and cheese. It is sipped slowly, for taste, each representing a different region from whence it came.
And in Italy…what goes better with pizza or pasta? A rich, smooth glass of red wine, cultivated in their own backyards. It is part of tradition, of culture, an experience of sorts. And there was something in the back of my head dreaming, “maybe one day a nice-looking man will take me out for an elegant dinner and we’ll chat over a glass of wine.” In the mean-time, my friend Lindsay and I would have to romance each other along the Grand Canal, splitting the cost of a small bottle of wine. When I returned to the United States, drinking wine reminded me of those times, of those cultures of which I had became very fond. It was a classy, enjoyable, grown-up drink which encompassed so many memories and people and places, having nothing to do with the fact that it makes one’s head feel fuzzy

And then there’s the most popular beverage of choice - coffee. I’ll quote my favorite television show- Gilmore Girls. A male teacher is trying to ask out the main character, Lorelai, and asks, “Do you like coffee?” To which she dryly responds, “Only with my oxygen.”
Ah, yes, I know the feeling. It’s a mystery as to what makes coffee so wonderful…but allow me to throw in another quote. “This seems to be the basic need of the human heart in nearly every great crisis - a good hot cup of coffee.” ~Alexander King.

Again, I completely agree. It tastes good, it’s soothing, it wakes you up (unless you’re immune, like me, or just totally unaware of its effects), it’s a huge part of our social practices, you can find it anywhere in the world, and you can have it in just about any form. Perhaps it is the joy found from something so simple as a small paper cup, full of rich, dark, aromatic liquid which, with just one whiff comforts you, brings back memories, begins or ends a day, swishes warmly through your mouth as it slides smoothly down your throat, and then brings a smile to your lips as it warms you like a blanket.

So okay, yes, I like drinking drinks, I admit it. My brother was right and I can’t pretend like he wasn’t. But I would argue that many other people feel the same way – perhaps about coffee, or diet coke, or tea, or alcoholic beverages. Whatever the reason may be, it is a huge part of our social culture, our experiences, our memories, our vices. And it is one of those little things make our days that much more enjoyable, even tolerable. Cynthe knows what I mean: “Happiness is a cup of coffee in the morning.”