Monday, August 30, 2010

A REVIEW, SORT OF // Eminem, "Love The Way You Lie" ft. Rihanna



Warning: Video contains obscenities...

I first heard this song on the radio. And if you listen to even the smallest amount of pop radio, chances are you've also heard it.

Naturally at first the hooky chorus by Rihanna got stuck in my head. You hear it once and you start humming it.

Then you notice the words: Just gonna stand there and watch me burn / But that's alright because I like the way it hurts / Just gonna stand there and hear me cry / But that's alright because I love the way you lie / I love the way you lie.

When I considered the words, I thought, "What in the world is he talking about?" I tuned in to the rest of it and thought, "Oh, got it! This is a bad, bad relationship. He's talking domestic violence." Not real difficult to catch on to that, once you listen to more than the hooky chorus.

And I have to admit as I listened to it, I really liked it. Not the idea of domestic violence, mind you. But I liked the bravery and skill with which he wrote about this issue. I get the feeling that this is a two-way issue; infatuation and regret on both sides keep this couple locked in a relationship stuck in a vicious cycle.

I in no way condone a man or a woman to stay in an abusive relationship and I hope to God that Eminem doesn't either but I think he paints a very passionate scene about what people feel in these types of situations and just how difficult it can be to get out of it when one feels the emotion of love (even if it's a false emotion). Oftentimes, people on the outside who haven't experienced such a mixed-up relationship of crazy emotions probably think it should be easy as 1-2-3 to snap out of such blind love and escape the abuse. But for those on the inside, like Eminem portrays here, it just might not be that easy.

As I thought about writing about this, I looked up the video. If you watch it above, I apologize for the language, etc. The video showed the scene in a harsh, passionate, painful, dark way but in the video both the man and the woman are the abusers, and together they burn the metaphorical house down. It doesn't fingerpoint at one or the other. You see the scenes play out between the two of them: the love and the alcohol-induced fights. Both people are players in the game and it makes me stop and think about how twisted reality becomes to both and how difficult it can be to extricate oneself.

It's not a situation I would ever want to be in, nor would I wish it upon anyone, but I think it gives us a visual of how tough it can be to escape our emotions and see clearly what's going on around us and what is unhealthy and unproductive and destructive. It'll make me think twice should I ever encounter a situation of domestic violence.

I'm not sure what my thoughts were about Eminem prior to this but for these four minutes at least, I'm a fan.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

LIFE IN MICHIGAN // Moving to Dearborn

Four weeks from today I'll pack my clothes and my cats into the Jetta and head to Michigan for two months. The cats are going to live with Grandma and Grandpa in Grand Rapids while I work on my practicum on the other side of the state in Dearborn.

Dearborn, Mich., is the home of Ford Motor Company and the second largest concentration of Arab Americans in the country (according to the 2000 Census). The city also has the highest percentage of population that are of Arab ancestry. A city of around 100,000 people, close to 30,000 are Arab Americans; that's 30 percent of the population. By comparison, New York City has the biggest population of Arab Americans but with over 8 million people and about 70,000 Arab Americans, less than one percent of the population is of Arab ancestry (numbers from 2000 Census).

Many of the first Arab Americans that immigrated to the area were Lebanese Christians but over the last couple decades more Arab Americans began to come from Yemen, Iraq and Palestine. These latter groups were more predominantly Muslim. In 1963, Dearborn became the home of the Islamic Center of America, the largest mosque in North America.

This is the community that I am going to live and work in. I'll be working with home missionaries Trey and Becky Hancock at Dearborn Assembly. As part of my project, I will do an ethnographic study of the community: learning the culture, language and traditions of the Arab community in Dearborn. I will also do a study of the church through interviews with leaders, lay leaders and members to discover the culture and organization of the church. I will then make suggestions to bridge the cultures by developing various marketing and communications pieces.

In a conversation with Becky, she mentioned that there are only two evangelical churches in Dearborn and that their call is to bring the church back to Dearborn. So I will look to help create some pieces for the church to send to supporters to share the story of the church and the community and their needs and to mobilize believers to reach out to the unreached people groups within our own borders, in some of our most popular and populated U.S. cities.

Pray for me! I'm jumping into a new city and new culture with a huge project on my plate. I believe this project could become a model for my future and I hope this initial trial run will shed some light on that.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A REVIEW, SORT OF // Jars of Clay, "Shelter"

I was driving home tonight and the new Jars of Clay album came on the CD changer in my car. When it hit track No. 5 (I think), I hit repeat at least twice, maybe three times. It was the title track of the new record, "Shelter."

I kept hitting repeat because it is the exact song that I needed to hear, the exact song that fit this next blog entry that I've finally reached.

*****

"Shelter"

To all who are looking down
Holding on to hearts still wounding
For those who've yet to find it
The place is near where love is moving
Cast off the robes you're wearing
Set aside the names that you've been given
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey
Bind you to hope
You will never walk alone

In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(Never walk alone)
In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(Your arms are all around us)

If our hearts are turned to stone
There is hope we know the rocks will cry out
And the tears aren't ours alone
Let them fall into the hands that hold us
Come away from where you're hiding
Set aside the lies that you've been living
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey
Bind you to hope
We will never walk alone

In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(In the shelter)
In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(You will never walk alone)
In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(In Your arms are all around us)

In the shelter of each other
We will live
We will live
(In Your arms are all around us)


If there is any peace
If there is any war
We must all believe
Our lives are not our own
We all belong
God has given us each other
And we will never walk alone


*****

It's really quite a beautiful song. But there are some lines that specifically capture what I've been feeling as of late....

To all who are looking down / Holding on to hearts still wounding ... May this place of rest in the fold of your journey / Bind you to hope / We will never walk alone

My heart has been wounded at a few turns this past year and I feel like I've been holding onto my heart, hoping that it would just heal itself given time. But I gave it a year or so and the heart still hurts. Maybe because I wasn't specifically attentive to its healing. I was hoping it would heal itself while I worked on other things: my job and school, etc. Yeah, that didn't work out so well. Seems I could have used some outside help in the process.

As I've come back to life and engaged with the world around me, beyond the four walls of my house and my Internet connection to the world, I've discovered that in fact, the heart can heal quicker when you share your heart with others. There is hope and discovery and encouragement and peace from doing life with others. "We will never walk alone..."

In the shelter of each other / We will live / We will live

I think I was afraid to share my story or thoughts that I had because I felt the irrational fear that my friends wouldn't understand. Seriously, why would I think that? I have amazing friends and family. And I KNEW that many of them had been in similar situations. Yet, I didn't seek that shelter. With God under the blood of Jesus is shelter and I can share with my friends and family under that shelter. And not only share with them but reside there, live there, go about daily there. It's not about hiding away in some shelter, like a hermit's cabin in the woods away from all interaction with civilization. It's a shelter within the world we live in. And I have discovered this shelter among family and friends in the past month. Once I resolved to deal with my worries and anxieties of the past year, sharing with those in my circle of trust, I have found life, I have found a freedom, I have found a more carefree existence, a shelter.

And the tears aren't ours alone / Let them fall into the hands that hold us / Come away from where you're hiding / Set aside the lies that you've been living

I do not need to hold my tears of the past year alone. I believe that just as God knows the number of hairs on my head (including the gray ones), he knows the number of tears that fall. And I think the line of this song captures this image so perfectly. He knows the number of tears that fall because they fall in his hands, which also hold me. I'm not alone in that God is always near; I'm not alone in that I have a wonderful community and support system. I've never denied the existence of any of them; I just haven't utilized them as I should have.

And then there's the lovely call to "come away from where you're hiding"...something I've been working on for a month or more this summer. To come out of hiding and let myself be known. It's been a process but a process that has made me feel more alive and more a part of the world around me. I'm no longer just in my own little world.

We must all believe / Our lives are not our own / We all belong / God has given us each other / And we will never walk alone

This part, the bridge of the song, was the part that made me hit repeat the first time. "Our lives are not our own." I feel like up until recently I had fallen into a routine where life was what it was and it was work and school, school and work. While those were necessary things to focus on, I didn't give much thought beyond those. It was, I need to do these things to make things happen in MY life. I know it was a phase, that I needed to focus on work and school full-time to get to this next phase of life. But I was very much a hermit about it. I didn't want to see people; I didn't want to make time; and I didn't want to take the chance that someone would ask me the tough questions I didn't want to answer.

But you know what? "Our lives are not our own." No man is an island.

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory [a bluff, headland] were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." (John Donne, Meditation XVII).

What affects me affects my family and friends, and vice versa. When my life is somehow diminished, even by my own action or lack of action, those around me are diminished. Sounds kinda selfish, yeah? We are not separate individuals interacting with others on some level; we are like a body, parts working together to live a full, complete life. When I hold back, I don't just hold back from myself; I hold back from others. And together none of us reach our full potential. "We all belong." We are all meant to be together, to live together, in this shelter, under the grace and mercy of God, to not walk alone. "God has given us each other."

This is the entry I wanted to write about the importance of community and somehow this song found its way to my ears. I searched for my new identity and place in Nashville; I found that I couldn't do it by myself because I belong to others. I needed input from those around me because my life is not my own; it fits into a specific place and belongs to others as much as to me. Before, I was floundering around, wondering where I fit. Likely it was because I wasn't seeking a shelter among others, I wasn't living among them. You can't hide and truly be known at the same time.

I now realize that I need community. I need community for healing and I need community for growing. I know it now like I've never known it before. To have my family and friends ready and available to listen, to share, to sympathize, to empathize, to love me in spite of me and my oftentimes icy, sarcastic, cynical self is a gift beyond measure. I could not have returned to life or returned to my community without my actual community being there. But I will say, they may still find themselves needing to be patient with me as I'm still cautious with my heart.

Moral of the story: Don't be a hero and try to do it yourself. You weren't meant to walk alone.

Monday, August 23, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Talking about it

Tonight I hosted a little dinner party for my BFF Beth for her birthday. Granted, her birthday was a couple months ago but we finally found time to fit it in before the summer ended.

And I found that I could finally talk about that hard topic without washing out into a puddle of messy tears.

That topic is my dad.

I'm OK with the gray hair on my head but when it comes to my parents, the aging process is almost too much to handle. And after a year, I'm finally giving myself space to feel clarity and peace with my dad's stroke.

One year ago, August 10, we took him to the ER. Five days later, after a myriad of scans and tests, he went home with the diagnosis of having suffered a minor stroke. He's come a long way in the past year, recovering memory and ability to communicate thoughts. He's regained some of his confidence. And I am thankful to God for that!! But there are still enough differences in his personality and behavior that make me incredibly sad.

And I realized on my most recent trip home at the end of July that this sadness was grief, it was a deep sense of loss that I had not yet processed. I hadn't grieved the sense of loss that I felt in seeing my strong, reliable dad fall victim to a stroke, no matter how minor. Rather than deal with it, I dove into my work and I traveled and kept myself busy. I never took the time to process what this event in our lives meant to us and what it cost us and what it gave us. I just kept pushing it to the bottom of the "to do" list.

As that last trip home came to close, I was ready to get out of there. Because I knew I had to deal with this grief. But I couldn't do it there; the sight of my dad just was too much reality. Don't get me wrong. It's not like Dad is some vegetable with no reaction to the world. In fact, I encountered several moments with the "pre-stroke" Dad that gave me comfort. But it was the times that I faced the "new brain," as we call it, that I wondered if things would ever be as they were or if the new reality of aging parents (and aging selves) was something I just needed to accept. Grieve the loss and accept the new.

So, I came back to Nashville and I started to process - with myself, with my sister, with friends - and I discovered something: talking about it helps! (Another blog about the need for friends and community coming up!) It helps because I'm not the first person to go through this - plenty of my friends have faced the loss of a parent or the sickness of a parent - and it helps because whether friends can empathize or not, they are willing to sympathize and listen and I don't feel so alone. I can sob about it or just get a little misty-eyed and it's OK.

So, as I've processed and talked it out, I've discovered that one thing which upsets me the most is the idea of aging. I'm just not ready for this "taking care of the parents" business. Even though I know that my mom was my age when her mom started making regular hospital/doctor visits. (And it certainly didn't help that in the months following my dad's stroke, I kept finding gray hair on top of my head.) The idea of growing old, especially of my young-at-heart parents growing old, shouldn't be on our minds yet.

The other thing which upsets me is that anyone I introduce to my dad now won't know the old dad in his entirety. We have moments with him now but it's not all the time and that's hard. Because you never know which dad, or which brain, you're gonna get. New or old. That old brain was a wonder. Dad has always been the quiet one, observing and listening. When he spoke, you listened because you knew his words were carefully chosen. Loyal as the day is long. Gentle but firm spirit when it came to discipline. “Measure twice, cut once” showed his thoroughness; his brain worked in a very linear fashion, with a tendency toward perfectionism. And a sneaky sense of humor, that if you hung around long enough, you’d see it often.

People tell me, like Beth did tonight, that given time, it could all come back. I pray that's so. Cuz I miss that dad. That's what brings tears to my eyes; I miss him. But even if it doesn't, I know life, as it does in many cases, will take on this new normal, and that'll be OK, too. And like I said in my previous blog entry [Here] the same power that conquered the grave lives in me and in my dad, and while things might feel less than whole and less than perfect in both me and him, by God's truth, they are not. And it's there that a smile takes over my face.

The tears still come from time to time, but I find they are shorter in duration now and less frequent. And I'll keep talking about it with friends and family because I've discovered that really helps. And hopefully for next time, I'll remember not to run and hide but to face it and deal with it.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // The blog entry that might never be ends here

So I'm into Day 2 working on a particularly difficult story to post here. I'm still debating how much to post. I'm also wondering how much of what I'm writing about is just for me to process this difficult part of my life.

So, as I continue to wrestle with it, let me show you were it's going, a conclusion of sorts....

*****

"You Are Here" by Dave George and Grant Pankratz

There is a love that I know
A strength for the weak and the broken heart
My Shepherd and King
I find You within me
For you are here
My Lord forever
You are here

You carried the cross for the world
Gathered the lost and the fatherless
My Shepherd and King
I find You within me
For You are here
My Lord forever
You are here

In this place, you are here
By Your mercy, I draw near
In my heart, take your place
You are here

Your word is the light of the earth
Your glory resounds in the universe
My Shepherd and King
I find You within me
For You are here
My Lord forever
You are here

The same power that conquered the grave
Lives in me, Lives in me
Your love that rescued the earth
Lives in me, lives in me

The bridge of this song has been used in various worship song arrangements and it was the bridge that impacted me in Fall 2008.

On September 12, 2008, a Metrolink train in Los Angeles collided with a freight train. Maybe you remember hearing about it. [L.A. Times coverage here] I remember where I was that night. I was sitting at an IHOP in Hollywood eating dinner with my friend Lara before we went to the El Rey Theatre to hear Brooke Fraser play.

I found out the next morning that a friend of mine from church, Racheal, was not only on that train but in the first car that was most damaged. [A story on her is here] She spent two months in ICU in a coma and when she woke up there was a long road to recovery ahead of her.

One of those days early on after the crash, I remember praying for Racheal when this song (or at least the abbreviated bridge version) came on: The same power that conquered the grave lives in me. Your love that rescued the earth lives in me. I was overwhelmed by the power of those statements. And then I was even more overwhelmed by the actual truth of those statements. It was a time when I didn't really know how to pray and I found myself just repeating these lines over and over, believing that the same power that conquered the grave, that overcame death, that gave life where there was no life, lived not only in me, but in Racheal, someone who really needed God's healing, who we really wanted to see come back from the edge of death.

Which brings me to today. We sang this song at church tonight and I was reminded of Racheal and what I felt when I first heard this song. I thought about my own current wrestling with my dad's recovery from his stroke last year. I thought about my friend Amber who is sitting by her dad's bedside as he reaches the end. I thought about my friends Lindsey & Jeremy, Amanda and Kathy who are sitting in the critical care unit with their father and husband. All of us are at different stages in the battle or recovery but the statement remains true: The same power that conquered the grave lives in me, and in my dad, in Racheal, in Mr. Jim and the Crawfords, in Amber and her family.

And for all the sadness or dismay, for any pity party we might want to throw ourselves, we need to remember and rejoice that the same power that conquered death, disease, fear, loneliness, anxiety, etc., lives inside of us. That very same power of God that brought instant life to the body that was really dead actually and truly lives inside us. It heals and it brings life. It is a power that I cannot begin to comprehend; it is a power that I'm pretty sure I could never harness. And yet, it lives in me; it operates in me; it's available to me. And it's available to my dad and my friends' dads for healing in all the various forms in which it comes.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Still working on today's blog

I've been working on today's blog: about life with my dad post-stroke.

It's proving as hard to write as I imagined it would.

This one will take two days.

I need to sleep on it....

Sunday, August 15, 2010

A REVIEW, SORT OF // You'll Come

"You'll Come" by Brooke Fraser

I have decided, I have resolved
To wait upon you Lord

My rock and redeemer, shield and reward 
I'll wait upon you Lord

As surely as the sun will rise
You'll come to us
As certain as the dawn appears

You'll come

Let your glory fall
As you respond to us
Spirit rain,

Flood into our thirsty hearts again
You'll come
You'll come

We are not shaken, we are not moved
We wait upon you Lord
Mighty deliverer, triumph and truth
We wait upon you Lord


As surely as the sun will rise
You'll come to us
As certain as the word endures

Chains be broken
Lives be healed
Eyes be opened
Christ is revealed


*****

FIRST, SOME BACKGROUND:

I've actually been meaning to share some thoughts on this song for two years now. Good grief. And since we sang this song in church this morning, I figure there's no time like the present.

I first heard this song probably, what, Spring 2008, I guess? It was about the same time I was finishing up my New Testament: Gospels course.

I wrote my final paper for that class on Luke 13:10-17, the story of Jesus healing a woman with a disabling spirit on the Sabbath:

Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And there was a woman who had had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said to her, "Woman, you are freed from your disability." And he laid his hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and she glorified God. But the ruler of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the people, "There are six days in which work ought to be done. Come on those days and be healed, and not on the Sabbath day." Then the Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it away to water it? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?" As he said these things, all his adversaries were put to shame, and all the people rejoiced at all the glorious things that were done by him.

In my study of this passage, I found that in Luke keeping the Sabbath meant more than just honoring the fourth commandment and ceasing from all work. Luke uses the word “Sabbath” not as a time indicator to signal the day of rest but as a signal that reveals Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath with power over Satan and the power to proclaim freedom for God’s people and restoration to God’s creation.

I could go into more detail (ask me if you like) but the ruler of the synagogue did not have an issue with the healing of the woman on the Sabbath, but with the minute detail that Jesus used his hands to do the healing.  There were two previous Sabbath healings by Jesus in Luke (ch. 4 and 6); neither of which brought a response such as the one in ch. 13. The difference between the three was in ch. 13 Jesus laid his hands on the woman, which to the ruler of the synagogue constituted work on the Sabbath, a no-no.

Which is the point where Jesus (via the author Luke) refers to the woman's bondage to Satan for 18 years. Sabbath is the time for remembrance of Israel’s liberation from slavery. Luke has already revealed that Jesus has the power to overcome Satan (4:31-37). Now “God’s activity” for liberation is present for the woman. By signaling that it is the Sabbath, Luke announces Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath with power over Satan to liberate people from captivity. The laying on of hands, a creative work like God creating of the world, was a matter of doing good over evil, even if on the Sabbath.

Luke uses the terms “free,” “bound,” “loosed,” “bond” and “Satan” (13:12, 16) in conjunction with healing the woman. She was a slave to Satan in such a way that even her physical body was bound. Jesus makes it clear in his pronouncement (v. 16) that on the Sabbath, a day of freedom, she was set free. Jesus overcame the power of Satan over her so that she might experience the freedom and restoration of Sabbath. As Lord of the Sabbath, Jesus rescues Sabbath as the appropriate time for liberation and freedom.

The work of Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath in 13:10-17 reflects the words of the prophet Isaiah that Jesus read in Luke 4:16-21:

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. And as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written,

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
      because he has anointed me
      to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
      and recovering of sight to the blind,
      to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor."

And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."


His anointing to “set at liberty those who are oppressed” is seen in his setting the woman free from disability and straightening her on Sabbath. The “year of the Lord’s favor” refers to the “year of Jubilee” (Lev. 25), which was to be a period of Sabbath for Israel’s land. Jesus proclaiming that the Scripture was “fulfilled” in the people’s hearing would mean that his time now on the earth would be a time of Jubilee.

Sabbath is both about acknowledgment of God's creative and restorative work; it also is about liberty from slavery. Luke shows that Jesus exhibits both of these purposes of Sabbath in healing the woman with the disabling spirit.

*****

SECOND, THE SONG:

It is my belief that there is no greater Sabbath song than "You'll Come." If there is any song that should be sung on the Sabbath, this is it.

The bridge first caught my attention as I thought about Jesus revealed as Lord of the Sabbath in Luke 4 and 13:

Chains be broken
Lives be healed
Eyes be opened
Christ is revealed

In Luke we read about Jesus revealed, coming to set the captives free, those bound by Satan. I hear this bridge as a celebratory prayer spoken by worshipers and/or over worshipers about the truth that Jesus has come to restore and set free those bound by Satan. It became even more powerful/meaningful to me as I learned the above about Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath in Luke. The words in this bridge are not meant to be nice Christian words or cool sentiments on Jesus. They should be believed as an actuality. This is why Christ was revealed to us: to break the chains of slavery and bondage, to heal lives, to open eyes. This is what he came to do! I think worshipers should feel overwhelming joy and celebration in these words; Jesus has been revealed for this very real purpose. Why wouldn't you sing these words like an excited prayer?

I like it when the song starts with the bridge. It then feeds into the idea that in fact Jesus will come. As surely as the sun will rise, you'll come to us, certain as the dawn appears. But not only that. He comes in response to us. We sing of "waiting for upon the Lord" and we acknowledge him as rock, redeemer, shield, reward, mighty deliverer, triumph and truth. This "waiting upon the Lord" could be like one would wait tables, in devoted service to a lord. And as we have decided and resolved to not be shaken or moved from our service to the Lord, he comes and responds. In these words we acknowledge him as the authority, as the Lord, of the Sabbath, of the day when the people acknowledged God as their liberator from slavery. And when he responds, when he is revealed, as the Lord of the Sabbath, chains are broken, lives are healed and eyes are opened. We make the proclamation of commitment to Jesus and have the promise that he will come; this song is our commitment vocalized to invite the Holy Spirit to do the work.

I don't know. With such powerful imagery and understanding of Jesus as Lord of the Sabbath, I can't imagine singing this song any other way then full-on celebration and expectation of healing and liberation. I just can't.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

A REVIEW, SORT OF // Our Second Birth

I recently finished reading Our Second Birth by Henri Nouwen. The book is drawn from his year on sabbatical from September 1995 through August 1996. Each chapter features a month's worth of daily (or almost daily) reflections on his year away.

As I was reading it, I was inspired by this passage or that passage or this thought and I wanted to stop and write but I decided to finish it once through and then go back and read it again, stopping to write about a passage as it struck me.

So here we go...the first one:

Saturday, September 2 and Sunday September 3 entries, right at the start of his sabbatical, Nouwen writes thoughts on prayer:

"I am starting this year with the prayer of Charles de Foucauld, the prayer I say every day with much trepidation:

     Father, I abandon myself into your hands.
     Do with me whatever you will.
     Whatever you may do, I thank you.
     I am ready for all, I accept all.
     Let only your will be done in me, 
     And in all your creatures.
     Into your hands I commend my spirit.
     I offer it to you with all the love that is in my heart.
     For I love you, Lord, and so want to give myself,
     To surrender myself into your hands,
     Without reserve and with boundless confidence,
     For you are my Father.
                                        Amen. (13-14)

"Prayer is the bridge between my unconscious and conscious life. Prayer connects my mind with my heart, my will with my passions, my brain with my belly. Prayer is the way to let the life-giving Spirit of God penetrate all the corners of my being. Prayer is the divine instrument of my wholeness, unity, and inner peace" (14).

"The truth is that I do not feel much, if anything, when I pray.... Whereas for a long time the Spirit acted so clearly through my flesh, now I feeling nothing. I have lived with the expectation that prayer would become easier as I grow older and closer to death. But the opposite seems to be happening. The words darkness and dryness seem to best describe my prayer today" (15).

He continues wondering if this darkness and dryness in prayer is a result of overactivity but he wonders less about how he got there but what the darkness and dryness are calling him to. "Are the darkness and dryness of my prayer signs of God's absence, or are they signs of a presence deeper and wider than my senses can contain? Is the death of my prayer life the end of my intimacy with God or the beginning of a new communion, beyond words, emotions, and bodily sensations?" (16)

He says that while his prayer might be "dead as a rock" within him, the Spirit's prayer within him is not. It was time to let of his prayer and join the Divine prayer.  "For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!" The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God" (Romans 8:14-16, ESV). He notes that our spirits join the Spirit of God as we cry out to Abba Father.

*****

I experienced a "mmm-hmm" moment here. There have been many days in the last year that I felt the "dead as a rock" prayer within me. Either "I've got nothing to say to you, God, because you already know it" or "I've got nothing to say to you, God, because I'm afraid of what you'll say back" or "I've got nothing to say to you, God, because you're sovereign and you'll work it out." Prayer that was going nowhere.

None of those words I tossed God's way made any of the connections that Nouwen mentions: mind with heart, will with passions, or brain with belly. Prayer is about connecting and I wasn't doing a good job of it. Maybe it was the stuff on my to-do list and the amount of work that filled my day, the overactivity that he mentions. And maybe it was all the distractions and avoidance I placed in my own path. Whatever it was, it felt like what he described: darkness and dryness.

And I loved what he wrote about the darkness and dryness calling you to something new because even in the times that I've felt the darkness and the dryness in the past year, I never felt like I had been left for dead. I never felt that God gave up on me; I never felt like the Spirit left. I still felt the Spirit's presence deep in me, keeping me. There was something deeper inside me than my own surface choices, keeping me. Where my thoughts and prayers to the Divine ended, the Spirit picked up. I was a child of God, I am a child of God and the Spirit bore witness with that and picked up the prayer.

I admit to sitting down to pray and feeling nothing, blank, no interest, and saying, "God, I got nothing," and immediately feeling that inexplicable stir deep down: the Spirit making a plea. Oh, how grateful I am for the deep down plea, for that unexplained stirring. How grateful I am for the keeping. The prayer of benediction that Aaron gives at the end of each service is running through my head right now as I hear part of it for the first time:

The LORD bless you 
     and keep you;
The LORD make his face shine upon you
     and be gracious to you; 
The LORD turn his face toward you
     and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24-26)

That first line, the LORD bless you and keep you.... May the Spirit of the Lord keep you.... I look back over the past year and I understand what it means to be kept by God, to be held by the Divine, to learn about a new communion that has less to do with my saying all the right words but my connecting mind, heart, will, passions, brain and belly, united with the Spirit, to engage with Abba Father.

Friday, August 13, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Underwhelmed & Overwhelmed by the Meteors

Last night about this time I was situating my hammock in the backyard so I'd be ready to take in the Perseid meteor shower.

From midnight to 2, I laid in my hammock and waited patiently for falling stars. In those two hours I saw six really good ones. Each time I squealed with glee like a little kid, pointed at the part of the sky where they appeared and then I cheered, like it was the 4th of July.

I can imagine I looked pretty silly out there. I was the only person watching. None of my neighbors were out looking for meteors. The dogs that live behind me were all passed out in their yard. It was just me pointing and shouting at the night sky in Old Hickory Village.

But I wasn't alone. Because anytime I look at the night sky and its enormity, I feel God. As if in that terrific expanse of outer space where God is sovereign, he is still as close enough to help a puny little me on the earth. And I think God was there with me, hearing my cheers for the meteors, and maybe he even said, "Thanks!"

There was joy in seeing a few meteors, even though all the predictions told me that I would see more falling stars than I did. I tried not to be too disappointed in only seeing six. I remember being underwhelmed and overwhelmed at seeing Saturn through the giant telescope at Griffith Observatory in L.A. Read my original blog post here: [Seeing Saturn] With the meteors, I had to remind myself that I was still in the city, with extra light pouring into the sky. I might have seen more meteors zipping through the sky but they were drown out by the light and the ones I did see were like gifts. They made me cheer. And I think God was pleased.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A REVIEW, SORT OF // Up in the Air

Have you seen the movie Up in the Air?

I saw it at New Year's with friends from Fuller as we welcomed the arrival of 2010 in Boston.

That movie slapped me on the wrist and then slapped me across the face. And it was actually a big catalyst in my admitting to myself that I was on the run. That's how long I've been dealing with this...since New Year's!

While I have a better relationship with my family than George Clooney's character Ryan Bingham, I related with a) his ability to efficiently pack a suitcase, b) his ability to navigate airports, security and rental car places and c) his desire to not be at home, to not be known. I felt that I was watching my own life from the previous six months play out on the big screen (not in every way, obviously, but in the overall idea, yes).

Bingham didn't put any roots down. Home was a place to store a few items. He didn't have any significant relationships. He really just survived in his own little frequent flier mile-collecting, city-hopping reality. He gave a motivational speech on the bare essentials that one needed in his or her backpack. He preached a light and mobile existence. An existence that stripped away relationships, so he didn't have to know or be known.

I loved the movie while I was watching it but at the same time I felt so guilty, so convicted! Because as much as I enjoyed watching him travel and do his thing, I knew the point of the movie was that his lifestyle was out of balance. It wasn't healthy. His relationships were shallow or broken and it was just plain sad.

So I left the theater. I left Boston. I got home to Nashville, January 2010, started winter quarter of classes and still felt so convicted. I felt God telling me to stay put for winter quarter. "What?" I asked. "You mean, 10 weeks straight with no traveling, no airports, at home, being around the same set of people." I didn't get an audible answer, a "yes you heard me." But I knew. So I stayed put for winter quarter (minus two quick weekends away with family).

I wonder if it was simply a test to see if a) I would listen and obey or b) I would actually start to work on the relationships that were shallow or broken or missing (you know, the lesson of the movie that so convicted me). If it was a) then I sort of passed. I stayed put, though I bargained for two weekends away for birthdays. If it was b) then I failed miserably because I still made NO effort to connect. I went to church; I met up with friends. But I mostly tucked myself away like a hermit in my house to do my work and school. I hid even though I was in Nashville city limits.

Could I have done better this past winter? Yes. Spring? Sure. Summer? Finally got there. And as I process things and consider the choices I made and start to see where things went awry, I must say that I could have made better decisions, I could have processed more efficiently, if I had shared with family and friends, if I hadn't closed off from others.

Maybe more now than ever before I understand the need for community and relationship. It's not just about fellowship or accountability with "like-minded" people, though it is about those things. It's about connecting with other people and sharing experiences and advice and beliefs and convictions; it's about sharing our lives with one another in what could be a very scary deep way, a very open and honest way. Community and relationship is about being honest about the hurts and the failures and the shortcomings and the joys and the successes.

When you try to carry that all yourself, it slows you down; you can't keep up with the group. "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30, ESV). When oxen are yoked together to do the work on the farm or in the field, they share the weight of the load. They can do more work together than alone. I think the same holds true for humans - sharing the burdens and load of life will help us go further. In fact, I'm convinced of it after my experience this past year.

*****
FYI, I read the book afterward and it's nothing like the movie. I actually liked the movie better.

Monday, August 9, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Hindsight via old blogs is 20/20

I looked back at a couple old posts to find some inspiration, some encouragement from the Jackie of 2008.

Both posts were from July 5, 2008. [Life Outside Tennessee] and [My Box]

What is interesting about these two posts is that they consider my identity, who I was and who I was becoming: one drew from the past while the other broke with the past. Reading them again, I feel like I did a decent job of expressing what I thought and felt and believed at the time. I can sense confidence in those posts.

And I wonder what happened to that confident, clear-thinking Jackie. Somewhere between July 2008 and July 2010, she become bogged down in the process and faced an identity crisis, a strange relationship, a healthy father falling ill. She allowed herself to be buried under it all rather than deal with it all, process it all, grow with it all, make good choices through it all.

I'm happy to report, though, that I see her poking her head out from underneath that pile now.

The "Life Outside Tennessee" blog reminded me of my love for California, of my reason for being there and of my confidence in being there. I remember knowing that I had to break with my Nashville identity. That things were starting over, my life was starting over. So why when I came back was I not better prepared for that? If by being in California I was breaking from the old, why was I not surprised that I felt identity-less when I returned. It's basic math: 1 - 1 = 0. Zero identity. No wonder I felt lost and unknown. But instead of dealing with it and working to discover and integrate my new identity...I ran and hid! That's real helpful, Jackie. Nice work. Good job.

Identifying your identity takes time and effort. Meeting new people, time and effort. Finding where you fit in, time and effort. And I made NO effort. For some reason, I wasn't ready to do it; I didn't want to do it. Why, I don't know. Selfishness, perhaps. I didn't feel needed. People didn't expect me around. My community didn't feel like my community anymore. Not to shift blame in any way because I admit I could have done A LOT more, could have asked more questions and could have been more engaged, but I didn't feel like anyone worked to bring me back into the story of Nashville. Like we were distant friends and no one (myself included) worked to break the ice. Doesn't help that I'm an independent introvert soul that doesn't ask for help very often or very easily. Thankfully, this week I'm coming back slowly to individuals and telling them all this and reconnecting as best I know how because there's safety in numbers (note to self: there's another blog).

So, I guess I successfully broke with a past identity in Nashville. Problem is, I didn't have things processed enough upon my return. Lesson learned. Which is where the "My Box" blog comes in....

The "My Box" blog reminds me to sift through all my notes and papers and thoughts from classes and experiences so that I can start filing them in the appropriate places in my much larger box, in my new, revised identity. That's what I'm doing now. One thing that struck me while reading this previous blog was:

So this Midwestern-by-way-of-the-South girl knows that God doesn’t want her to get rid of her box, her world, for a bigger West Coast one. It just doesn’t make sense. The West Coast box would certainly cost more. But God is adding some West Coast things to my life, my world, but it's still me. I thought I would have to start over and get a new box for all the California and seminary experience. But really this is all growing with me. It [my box] won’t be too small for all these ideas, visions and perspectives at the end of the journey. I don't have to become an entirely new person. God didn't start over with me; he just took me to a new location.

This is where I am. This is what I need to do. Meld the old with the new. Look around my bigger box and see what's there, see what is making me me these days. What all have I collected on this journey to California and back again. What do I want my life to stand for now. What do I want to do with what God has taught me and given me. It's time to make some assessments and decisions. So I will.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Elijah ate ravens; where does that leave me?

Now Elijah the Tishbite, of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, "As the LORD, the God of Israel, lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word." And the word of the LORD came to him: "Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there." So he went and did according to the word of the LORD. He went and lived by the brook Cherith that is east of the Jordan. And the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook. And after a while the brook dried up, because there was no rain in the land. (1 Kings 17:1-7)

This was the scripture used in church this morning. Aaron is speaking about provision for a couple weeks. This week was about provision in famine.

[Here I'm combining some of what Aaron said in service and some of what I took in from seminary.] Aaron pointed out that in verse 1 God is challenging another god, Ba'al. Ba'al could refer to various gods like a title "lord" and in some texts it can be a substitute for Hadad who was a god of rain, thunder, fertility and agriculture. Hadad might also be known by other names, depending on your scholarly source. The point being, Elijah gives the LORD's word to Ahab that the rain would stop. The LORD, one true God among many other gods in the land, gave the word that he would stop the rain, the domain of the god Ba'al or Hadad that Ahab worshiped. And then the LORD sends Elijah away to hide by a brook....

Now, Ahab was the king over Israel in Samaria, a no-no in that the LORD was to be worshiped only at the Temple in Jerusalem. Ahab was worshiping this other god, Ba'al, Hadad, a false God, which was pretty much a failure of the book of Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy repeatedly makes the point, "Do not follow any other gods. Do not follow any other gods. Do not follow any other gods." Ahab is in violation of that command of the LORD's. Way to go, Ahab. So here in verse 1 we see the epic set-up for this famine that the LORD is sending to show, once again, that he is the one true God in a land of many, many false gods.

Here Aaron made the point that famine challenges which god or God we trust. To which I make the note, God started the famine. Or did he not? Did he just withhold the rain and their lack of foresight brought the famine? Either way, moving on.... Aaron noted that every story needs a hero and a villain, and oftentimes we blame others for what we've caused ourselves, and when faced with a challenge, what role is God going to play in your life/story?

I'll admit it. Here Aaron started talking about the god of wealth and I turned my brain a different direction briefly. I asked myself, "Over the past 12-18 months, what god have you been trusting?" My current though probably still unclear answer is that I've been trusting God but allowing other distracting voices into my head. Maybe that other god is self, thinking that I could handle the day-to-day knowing that God had the bigger picture in mind and I'd learn more about that when he was ready. But I see what kind of burden you end up carrying even when you think you can handle the day-to-day. Especially when you're hiding the weight of it from those who love you and can help you. I was the villain in my own story.

The second point Aaron made was that famine changes the old rules. He pointed out that in Leviticus 11, the LORD gives a list of birds that are unclean to eat and verse 15 says, "every raven of any kind." The people of Israel were to have nothing to do with ravens of any kind, and in 1 Kings 17:4 it says that the LORD commanded the ravens to feed him. In verse 6 it says that the ravens brought Elijah bread and meat. They were the meat. That was something left out of the flannel graphs in Sunday school growing up. I remember the story of Elijah and the ravens and the bread crumbs they dropped at his feet. But what wasn't in the flannel graphs was the killing of bread-offering ravens. And Elijah had permission to eat the unclean birds because God changed the rules in the famine. 

Point being, in a famine you will find that ways of provision have changed. God sent a new, unexpected source for food but he was still the same God. I didn't completely check out from Aaron's message at this point; but I did think to myself, "Yes, the ways of provision have changed, are changing and will change." And this has been one of my concerns in recent weeks. Not a major concern, but one to be considered. I'm nearing the end of my degree and would like to actually use it as a means to pay the bills. But I have example after example after example of God providing me with work and jobs and money over the last 12 years. I have never been in want and while I've accumulated some more debt in the last three years, I've never been behind in any payments. That said, I took much hope from this point. It confirmed what I already knew. The times, they are a'changin' and God has that next phase worked out and I'm confident he knows the amount of many money I need to make - and how I'm going to make it.

Aaron's last point was that famine points us to the Provider and not the provision. Because when you're down to nothing, where else are you going to look? Again, I think my brain went in a different direction here as Aaron talked about when the paycheck doesn't arrive on time (which has happened to me). 

As he talked about that, I mused in my notebook about the season approaching that I need to be at home, in Nashville. Aaron mentioned that God directed Elijah to a brook, likely a seasonal brook that was filled with previous rainwater run-off, until it dried up from God's withholding rain and dew. Not to say that Nashville is a seasonal brook that will dry up (or maybe it will and I move elsewhere) (Pssst! God, NYC!) but come December/January, I feel like I'm supposed to stay put. And by stay put, I mean get involved in life again in Nashville, at my church, with volunteer work, etc. That doesn't rule out a trip to Portland or L.A. or Michigan or elsewhere but it does mean, when I'm here in Nashville, which will be most of the time, I will be seen. Kind of back to my old self but a more educated, more understanding, new old self.

*****
I still have so much more to say...like a blog on the need for friends, a blog on the recovery of my father, a blog on fear and anxiety, a blog on seasons, a recap blog of this seminary journey (that'll be fun)....

Saturday, August 7, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // Free-falling vs. Soaring

Your love's enough to see the broken hearts
Gain a brand new start with a brand new heart
And as the faithful hope in things unseen
You're enough to see all the things they dream come to life

'Cause we're living in the Savior today

And this day is what we have now
In this moment we have chosen to praise
And it's changing how we live now

Your love it broke my fall

It's more than enough and I need it
'Cause I've never known better
And I'll never know better

Your love's enough to see the humbled man

Find the cause of Christ with His outstretched hands
As the cripple grabs his mat to walk
You're enough to save him from the pain he bore

'Cause we're living in the Savior today

And this day is what we have now
In this moment we have chosen to praise
And it's changing how we live now

Your love it broke my fall

It's more than enough and I need it
'Cause I've never known better
And I'll never know better

This love will see me soar

It's more than enough and I need it
'Cause I've never known better
And I'll never know better

My Savior, You'll never let me go

My life is now secure

My Savior, You'll never let me go

And in Your hands my future's brighter

Your love it broke my fall

It's more than enough and I need it
'Cause I've never known better
And I'll never know better

This love will see me soar

It's more than enough and I need it
'Cause I've never known better
'Cause I'll never know better

'Cause I'll never know better

And I'll never know better


I was out running this morning, with the Hillsong United EP on the iPod. This song "Love Enough" came on and it was good to hear it again for the first time.  Especially the chorus: Your love it broke my fall / It's more than enough and I need it / 'Cause I've never known better / And I'll never know better / This love will see me soar / It's more than enough and I need it / 'Cause I've never known better / And I'll never know better

I've been feeling grateful in recent days for God's love breaking my fall. I feel like life's been in a free fall for a while and now I've finally felt the courage to pull the ripcord of the parachute that I've known was there all along. All this while I've heard the voice in the back of my head, "Come on back around," but kept putting it off, not wanting to face it. It's true. God's love is more than enough and I need it. I can spend time focusing on other things, other people, other places, and know that nothing else will replace the God-shaped hole.

What I heard differently today in this song was the line: This love will see me soar. I can fall on that love and go from free-falling to soaring - letting that parachute glide through the air. Which is to say, either way, I'm up in the air (which reminds me of another blog I need to write). I can either let myself tumble around in no particular direction or I can fall back on God's love and soar. It's a question I have to ask, a choice I have to make: Do I want to be tumbling in no particular direction? Or do I want to be soaring in particular direction?

I'm tired of the free fall. I want the stability of soaring, so to speak. I want the stability of God's love to break this fall and hold me up as I soar. It's his love that will see me soar. I'm pretty sure I've been there before but some stuff knocked me down and I can feel myself getting things back in order and I'm ready for things to be straightened out, and that puts a smile on my face.

In this moment I've chosen to praise, and it's changing how I live now....

*****
Have you heard the song? Here's a video:

Friday, August 6, 2010

OLD TESTAMENT WRITINGS // A Psalm I Wrote

My entry today is a psalm of testimony that I wrote for my class on the Old Testament Writings this winter. What's really interesting is how it applies even more to where I'm at right now. I wrote this in early February. This is the first draft; not sure if I'll ever revise it.

I give all thanks to the Lord;
          by his steadfastness, I am glad.
Now my heart and spirit can rejoice,
          for the Lord is faithful.

Listen to this!
          Come here!
Let me tell how my heart was sad;
          how my spirit was overwhelmed.

For many days life was good, and I heard from God.
          But the ways of life grabbed me, and I became distracted.
I moved from one place to the next,
          to be unknown,
          to hide.
But I kept going,
          filling the days with reasons,
          keeping my feet to the road.
Those I loved fell ill
          and I found new reasons to not be still.
“I must take care for them. I will return soon.”
          But I always meant to stay away.

I thought some days his voice would grow more distant,
          as I flew from one place to the next.
But always, no matter where I was,
         the Spirit was there to say, “Be still.
         Come away from those places.”

I knew I could not last like one lost in the desert.
          I was thirsty and hungry.
My spirit more overwhelmed than I realized,
          tears were my ever-present companion.
I said to the Lord, “I will go home.
          I will be known.
          I will be present.”
Then the overwhelming darkness within lifted.
          The Spirit came and removed it.
I allowed the Lord to enter, and he blew it all away.
          Like the storm clouds give way to sunlight.
Gone were the heavy feelings,
          lifted were the sorrows.
The Lord dried my tears,
          and my heart felt free again.
I could smile;
          I could speak.

People, people, listen!
          I feel a million times better.
I did not realize how deep the sadness had grown,
          how all the excuses kept me trapped.
And from this day forward,
          I will speak honestly to myself
          and speak honestly to my God.

Don’t try to fill your days so as to numb the pains.
          Let the pains hurt so God can heal.

God is so good.
          He is so faithful.
He knows and yet he still loves.
          He cares and comforts.
Heal, Lord, so that your name is glorified.
          God is awesome! Glory to his name!

Thursday, August 5, 2010

LIFE IN TENNESSEE // At the Bottom of the Pile

There's distraction buzzing in my head
Saying in the shadows it's easier to stay
But I've heard rumors of true reality
Whispers of a well-lit way

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
Every fear and accusation under my feet
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you


Things looks a little clearer this week. I decided to turn over a new leaf in August. I gave myself the month of June off to recuperate from full-time work and classes. Before I realized it, it was July 15. Oops. With August I returned to a self-imposed set schedule for work, chores, freelance, the right food, and working out. I decided I would write a blog entry once day, either on this blog or my other blog, The Traveling Auntie. I started on a list of projects that had to done.

And only three days into my new/old routine, I'm feeling more relaxed, more at home, more in control, more accomplished, more confident in what lies ahead. Even when I'm not sure what lies ahead. I'm actually excited about my life.

That feels really strange to admit.

It's not like I've been unhappy in my life or unexcited about what lies ahead. It's more like I haven't had the time to be excited about my life. I haven't had the chance to work on what lies beyond school. And I've been avoiding dealing with some tough things from this past year by keeping myself on the move.

But this week and last (while I was in Michigan) I've had the chance to tackle some of each. And in doing so, I discovered some hope. I've finally found some excitement about this next phase of my life. It's like the "whispers of the well-lit way" are getting a little louder and I can hear them clearer and they're replacing any "distraction buzzing in my head" telling me to hide. And that's exciting because for a long while now, I didn't search for excitement or hope for what lies ahead. Quite frankly, I just got up every morning and devoted long days to work and homework because it needed to be done. And now I'm feeling more confident: more confident in getting through this funky time and more confident in what's going to happen next.

I've been reading Our Second Birth by Henri Nouwen, which has been really helpful - seeing how time away, time to process, time to think and pray and write really matters and really helps. Now I'm making time to think and process and pray because I need some hope and excitement, I need to discover my passions again and not just go through the motions, I need to hear what the Spirit says.

I'm still processing the low points, my points of weakness from 2009 and 2010, places where it seems the world fell out from underneath me by either external circumstances or internal choices, times of fear or panic, but the reminder of recent days is that I'm still standing. I'm still found in God. I'm in the right place. I'm in a good place. It's not an easy place but that's probably because I allowed stuff to pile up. So now it's time to find my way out from the bottom of the pile.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Get Ready....

If I'm a writer, then I need to be writing.

Starting tomorrow, August 3, I will be blogging once a day through the end of the month. Either here on Learning or on my other blog, The Traveling Auntie.

I have a lot in my brain and a lot on my mind that I want to get out, that I need to get out.

I meant to just take June off after classes ended but that kind of stretched through July. So now it's August and it's time to get back to writing, writing more than papers for school.