The camera, the car, and the chocolate chip cookies, and that's all I need...

Today I grabbed my camera, drove to the river, and romped and stomped in the snow. Falling flakes tickled my face as I spent hours shooting photos and marveling at God's creation. When I got cold, I sat in my car, cranked the music (and the heat) and ate chocolate chip cookies. It was a great day.

Thanksgiving

Sometimes giving thanks hurts. In a good way.

When I strive to see all the good in my life, and, even more, when God enables me to see the good inside of the bad in my life, I become overwhelmed with this joyous feeling of awe and this incredulous feeling of, "Why me?"

Sometimes that "Why me?" is focused inward. I, as a sinful being, don't deserve anything. I deserve death and separation from God. And yet, God gives me life and life more abundantly. He gave his son, Jesus Christ, to die in my place that I might enjoy fellowship with Him--both on this earth and through eternity in heaven. That would have been enough, but then He also gives a roof over my head, food to eat and water to drink, two jobs, a loving family, supportive friends, thrilling adventures, and on and on and on.

Sometimes that "Why me?" is focused outward. I've seen heart-breaking poverty in El Salvador, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, and China. I've seen poverty under the bridge just blocks from my apartment. I've seen it through the pages of my reporter's notebook and through my camera's eye in Seattle and Denver and New York. I've seen it when patrons apply for a library card and are rejected because they have no permanent place to call home. And yet, here I sit on my comfy couch, listening to a CD, drinking coffee, writing on my laptop and texting on my cell phone all while surrounded by my bike and snowboard and a closet full of warm clothes.

It boggles the mind. It hurts the heart. In a good way.

I am grateful, but I hope I would be willing to give it all up if God asked that of me like He did of Hudson Taylor, a missionary to China who sold all his possessions to give to those he was serving and live among them as one of them. Until that day, should it come, I will be grateful.

And I will be generous--with my money, my possessions, my prayers, my time, my food, my encouragement, my voice for those who suffer, my written words, my care, and my empathy. As it says in Luke 12:48, "When someone has been given much, much will be required in return."

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I hope you are filled not only with good food and memories, but with a sense of God's goodness and love.

Xie Xie

The beauty of hearing others speak their native language.
Books, which allow us to EXPLORE and SEE and UNDERSTAND.
Pumpkin.
Pecan.
Pie. My favorite in the whole world.
Pumpkin muffins,pumpkin crostata,pumpkin soup,pumpkin.
Whipped cream. Happiness in a can.
Ways to communicate with friends and family in AK, S'pore, WYO, Penn., Washington, SEAsia, Europe, TX, Nebraska, Idaho, CO, ND, AZ, Missouri, Kentucky, the Middle East, NewYork, and the like.
Spoons.
And bowls.
Lamps.
Joanna. Love you bunches, beautiful!
DaveSarahBeckyNathanJoshJohn. We go together well, and I miss you.
Have I mentioned pumpkin yet?

Thanks for sweet potato rolls and so much more

Oscillating space HEATers.
Grace.
Bobby pins, cause my hair is an annoying length right now.
Hair.
JOSH Josh. Our friendship keeps getting better and better.
Cameras.
My Grampa, who taught me to love photographs.
Lattes made with WHOLE MILK. Ohcreamygoodness!
Pans of warm, golden-orange sweet potato rolls fresh from the oven at work.
Anti-lock brakes.
Clocks, even though mine is telling me I'm about to be late for work and I haven't even begun to consider what clothes to wear...

Thankful for: A list

I'm a big fan of expanding Thanksgiving Day into the whole week.

Make that month.

Scratch.

Year...I mean...

Life.

I want to be thankful my whole life. Every moment of every day. But for purposes of this blog, we'll do this week. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Thankful for: A List

SNOW! sparkles. Briskwalkingthatmakesmefeelalive.
e.e.cummings, who reassures me it's okay to play with words.
Boots, hats, scarves, gloves.
My BROther. My SISter(in-law). My NEPHEW/or/NIECE to be. I can't wait to meet you!
Bikes and kayaks and snowboards and fishing poles.
Socks.
Mom and Dad and their no_strings_attached_love,love,love,love,love. LOVE!!!!
Cereal. I would be either very fat or very thin without it.
Lindsey. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. I love you.
God, always God. Because I am nothing without Him.

Who You love, I'll love

Music seeps into our souls and touches hurts, sins, and dreams that we thought were carefully tucked away, safe from scrutiny. It seeps in and, like rising tidal waters, buoys these hidden things to a level of consciousness where it becomes nearly impossible to ignore them.

We can ignore. And often we do. But sometimes, if we allow the Holy Spirit to lead us into the churning tide, we can pick up those sins and dreams and deal with them.

I come to this blank page this morning wet from head to toe. I've been treading deep water since the worship service at Fresh Life church last night. We sang a song we've sung before--many times--only this time I couldn't ignore it. Written by Chris Tomlin, the chorus goes like this:

Where You go, I'll go.
Where You stay, I'll stay.
When You move, I'll move.
I will follow.

Who You love, I'll love.
How You serve, I'll serve.
With this life I lose, I will follow You.

I'm not going to say what each line pinpointed in my life, but I do want to share a couple thoughts.

First, I have not been serving how God serves. I have not been serving much at all. I want to change that, and I'm asking to be held accountable.

And second, I have not loved who God loves. I have been feeling intense anger--hatred, even--for a friend of mine who cheated on his wife of ten years and their two kids. He wants out of the relationship he vowed to fight for. He wants out of love to follow lust.

I still do not understand this. I never will. But I do understand the words of the song. If I claim to love Christ, I must love this friend. I know there is a place for righteous anger, but what I've been feeling is not righteous. It is vengeful. It is wrong. And I need to say I am sorry--to him, to my best friend, to God.

So, I am sorry. I seek forgiveness, and I ask God to help me love who He loves.

Vandolvaded

Vandolvade vb: To vandalize someone's personal property; esp vandalism that makes owner of said property feel uneasy and invaded.

I've been vandolvaded. Yes, it's a made-up word. You must forgive me; I've been reading 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac, and his free-wheeling beat prose is influential.

Anyway, back to the point.

My landlord called yesterday morning to tell me some bad news: "Your car was vandalized last night."

Me: "Seriously? That's weird. Is it the f-word or something bad I can't drive around with?"

Landlord: "It's just some stars. Seven other cars were hit, as well as a nearby house. The cops have already been here to take photos and do a report. You may want to call the police, though, and make sure they get your name." Pause. "I'm really sorry."

Me: "No need for you to apologize. Stuff happens. I'll go check it out."

"Just some stars" turned out to be poorly drawn representations of the Star of David. My star was on my hood, big and black. Now, I'm not Jewish, but I am a child of God, so I didn't mind the mark so much.

I did mind the Nazi swastika on the side of a nearby house, though.

I realize the handiwork in my alley was likely some youngsters raising a ruckus. That's pretty probable. Still, I don't think it's a good idea to mess around with symbolism that represents such atrocities--especially when my town is currently harboring three known anti-Semitic/white supremacist groups.

Yes, three. One is lead by a man who is allegedly connected with the murder of a U.S. District Judge's husband and mother. That same man was also kicked out of two other countries for violating hate speech laws before he landed here.

Two of the three white supremacist groups use the public library's meeting room to show videos promoting their perverted cause. They aim the First Amendment's right to free speech at library workers and law enforcement alike, threatening to shoot (i.e. sue) any challengers. And so, since the library's collection stands on the First Amendment, we are expected to tuck our tails and hand over the keys, lest we be hypocrites.

Well, I'll be the first to declare myself a First Amendment hypocrite. And I certainly hope our library and local law enforcement will do so soon. Free speech is not meant for those who threaten people and incite violence, those who walk the line so closely all it would take to make them do something punishable by law is a good punch in the face.

My brother helped me scrub the black paint off my car. It just took some soap and elbow grease. But I still feel icky and invaded when I think about it. And I wonder when this town will man up and fight for both the memory and the present and future dignity of not only God's Chosen People, but all mankind.

Writer's block

Why I'm attempting to write after titling this post writer's block, I don't know. I have already written several poorly worded, rambling leads to this post...and deleted them. I guess I write because I must. If I don't put some words on paper soon, no matter how bad they are, I am going to go crazy. And I'm really too young to pull of the crazy writer schtick. I'll save that for later.

So I write. I write badly. I feel badly for anyone reading this writing.

Why the block? you ask.

I suppose it's too much other stuff cramming my heart and brain. Worries over employment, money, my purpose in life. Sadness -- snot-faced, sobbing sadness -- over a marriage on the rocks that I would have never dreamed would be on the rocks. Ugly on the rocks. Idiot-throwing-away-a-good-life-for-momentary-pleasure on the rocks. It makes me sick.

It makes me write badly. It makes me cry in public places. It makes me want to punch and hug the same person...my friend who I love who is hurting another friend I've loved much longer.

I can do nothing. But love. And write badly because I must write or go crazy.