. . . Mysterium Fidei at ye Old Mission

We’ve been saying it for over a year and half and it finally happened. I went to mass with Jessica. It has been so long, but it really is a beautiful event. It felt like everything was building up for an ultimate climax . . . and then I heard it echo against the adobe walls of the mission . . . “Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come Again.” (Mysterium Fidei)

Everything has, “been so hard,” recently. My Dad is sick, my boyfriend is so far away, I have a hate/love/hate relationship with the telephone, and now the happy stress of moving, finding a car, taking care of dad, and planning for the holidays when the key player is 900 miles away and it’s all making my head heavy. Then my Dad sent me on an errand to grab my brother’s truck in San Luis Obispo with the hopes that it would alleviate some of that stress . Needless to say, like a lot of Dad’s plans it temporarily added more stress and I, unintentionally, wound up on a three day road trip along the coast at the mercy of a friend and the generosity of others.

This morning I worshiped in the old Santa Inéz mission. Annie Dillard wrote something that I’ll sum up poorly, “I like to think of the Liturgy as a set of words that man has gotten away with saying to God without their getting killed” (Holy the Firm). I think she’s on to something. I feel God’s holiness and sacredness in mass like no where else in the world. Today in mass I noticed the full cycle of Christ: prophecy, life, death, and resurrection. It was all there today, and it ended with hope. Faith is troubling at times, but from what I’ve studied and felt I think that I prefer God’s kingdom to any other this world might endeavor to provide. Amidst all my worrying and frustration I forgot to hope. I am so grateful that God is so great and holy and awesome. No amount of mood lighting and music can make me feel the reverence that a simple chapel and mass can. These people mean it, and I gladly call them brothers and sisters. Why? Because they proclaim Christ – and that is enough for me right now. I hope it stays along those lines too. Scripture at least backs it up.

Faith is a mystery, but it is everything.

Does anyone have a happy story?

Naturalists are often encouraged to share their story with the students when we have a Christian school here at OSS.  I’ve seen God do a lot of amazing things in the middle of a genuinely shitty time of my life (both parents got cancer, the guy I’m in love with moved 900 miles away, my car was totaled, I’ve been overwhelmed and all over the place emotinally and I somehow forgot how physically and emotionall draining my job is–not that I’m complaining).

On Wednesday we always take the kids for a hike at night and teach them interesting things about their senses, chemical night vision, etc. I also include spiritual components or simple affirmation, depending on the school, to my hikes. At the top of the mountain I asked my students to look at the stars and then look at the lights of the town below. Both are beautiful yes, but which are going to last longer? Who’s bigger, the guy who made those lights or the God who made those stars? I get the answers they know they should give, but to a little deeper into their heads I ask them if I can tell them a bit of my story . . .

I’m honest. I don’t shortcut much about how hard it has been the last few weeks. I tell them that I don’t know why God allows difficult things to happen. Awful things like war and genocide and rape (now at this point I will concede that this sentence may have been over the top, but I stand by the rest of what I said). I don’t know why I’m in this really rough season of my life. A guy I know asked me how I could possibly still believe in a God that would let things like cancer into the lives of people I loved dearly. Without thinking I responded, “How could I possibly turn my back on the ONLY thing/person that is going to get me through this?” And that’s it you guys. At the end of the day I still know that God is good. Have you looked at Job lately? God doesn’t have to answer to me, but he IS with me . . . He is still good. This got some of the students talking about how they’ve seen some really hard things, but they’ve also seen God’s grace amidst it. Grandparents and friends dying etc.

It was right about at this point of sharing that one of the teachers that was accompanying my group interrupted and asked, “Does anyone have a HAPPY STORY?”

WHAT THE?

I was getting to that. She stopped me before I could continue into my overflowing gratefulness for God’s mercy, grace, and love. I was going to tell them about how in the midst of his silence sometimes I’ve learned to trust in ways I thought I would never be able to. He is a good God. I have no doubt about that right now.

It turned out that she had stopped me because one of the boys in my class was in the process of losing his mother to cancer. It had originated in her breast, but by the time they found it the cancer had already metriculated into her brain. Now, it was only a matter of time before the end. CRAP.

At first I felt AWFUL. Then it hit me, maybe that was EXACTLY what that kid needed to hear. As someone who is also in a state of intense pain, granted my parents are likely to live it has been overwhelmingly challenging, it is absolutely infuriating when people want to paint over your suffering with rainbows and ponies. Someday those kids are going to grow up and be pissed when they find out that the world is hard, and bad things happen to good people . . . often. But that shouldn’t be a point of hopelessness. Hopelessness comes when when we refuse to admit the truth of life’s many difficulties and so we are then paralyzed in doing anything about it. I would much rather grow up aware of how hard it can be and empowered to do something with it than gow up in bliss until I someday got hit by the 2×4 of reality.

Am I still a bit bitter? Maybe a little. I got my first negative comments on the teacher evaluations that week. For being too detailed in my personal narratives and for being too sarcastic. I’m sorry, when we show up to a body of water that’s curving around branches and sand banks and is only about 6 feet across and maybe two feet deep and there’s a cliff face in front of us and nowhere else to go and the students ask, “IS THIS THE CREEK??????” How can I not respond with, “NOPE! IT’s the OCEAN!”

Touché

Do not try to satisfy your vanity by teaching a great many things. Awaken people’s curiosity. It is enough to open minds; do not overload them. Put there just a spark. If there is some good inflammable stuff, it will catch fire. – Anatole France

P.S. Dear Destiny, what am I supposed to do now? Sometimes, as a teacher, I feel more like I’m lighting farts on fire instead of placing burning embers within the souls of children. I guess that’s the downside of only having students for a week. I’m over this already and it’s only our third week of actual teaching. Crap.

Why I’m glad I don’t have a dog . . .

. . . because that would just be another thing that could go wrong/die.

R.I.P. Rosarita . . .

I loaned her to a friend and, sadly, never made it back. The driver is thankfully unharmed and not at fault. Accidents really do happen, and in the end, regardless of who-done-it . . . it’s just stuff.

Things that have gone wrong in 7 days:
1. Danny moved 900 miles away
2. It was a rough first week of OSS
3. My car was totaled
4. Dad started chemo and Radiation
5. I lost my wallet (social security card, credit card, cash I saved to ride the train home)

God is still really good, but don’t go thinking perseverance is pretty right now.

If we could’ve have “danced” through Breast Cancer . . .

It would have looked like this. Beautiful.

Esophagus coated in happiness

I’ve been thinking about the throat lately. There’s a lot that goes on in there. It’s the speedway for breath and nourishment. The spinal column resides inside and is surrounded by huge veins and arteries. It can also use it to make amusing trumpet-like sounds when someone is bored.

I went surfing for the first time this morning and am still a bit frigid, but every sip of my mocha (post-surfing splurge) is like a warm hand squeezing my esophagus as it glides into my stomach. This is totally worth the shakes I may potentially get later from the espresso. Back to the throat . . .

They found cancerous cells in my Dad’s lymph nodes on the left side of his throat. After seeing my Mom go through cancer (her hair is just starting to grow back and it’s ADORABLE!) I know that it is entirely possible to knuckle down, pray a ton, and get through it, but it’s also terrifying because . . . well . . . people can still die of cancer. And he doesn’t know my friend Jesus yet. (that’s right Dad, I’m praying you meet God BEFORE the white light, and if you didn’t know I guess this is as good as a medium as any to let you know . . . I’ve been praying for you since I was in 4th grade. When I wasn’t mad at you that is, so there was a bit of a lull in my teen years).

So, there’s a lot on my mind right now. My world was taken for a ride in Buffalo (more on that later). A new season of OSS is starting up in September, and I’m signed up for a whole year. I’m so damn wishy, washy I’ve been looking for loopholes to get out of it, especially since Danny will be moving to Seattle at the end of September, but I think God is rebuking the snot out of me. I saw the ugly, ugly face of my pride flare up yesterday, and it makes me sad to look back on it. Uncertainty is definitely a condition that can make one’s resolve very weak in the face of trials requiring perseverance . . . I think we call that faith, no?

There are also a half dozen other semi-major decisions coming up and relationships that require intentional effort and a lot of apologizing on my account. OYE!

SO . . .I went sufring, for the first time, with Laben and Alana this morning. It was glorious, salty, cold, and wonderful. The ocean is big, its creator is BIGGER and loves me very, very much. In the end, I at least know where I’m headed and towards whom I am running.

Three reasons today rocked: Desk, Boyfriend, Community.

I’m not well equipped for life in suburbia. Case in point: I think I drowned our lawn. While doing so I put another hole into my poor pants in an attempt to jump the white picket fence.

The Daydream desk is home now. I need to get a clear coat for the drawers and maybe a plastic top. The epoxy is pretty hard, but I’m nervous about damaging any part of this precious piece. Seriously, how gifted is my boyfriend? Not only that, he gave me this desk amidst his own need. So, if you have kids, or are like me and just like amazing things, give him a call or hit me up for info about getting something customized by “The Painted Robot.” Homeboy needs money for school like the rest of us.

On another random, yet spectacular note, my Pastor, Sean, met up with Danny this morning for breakfast. He made it specifically clear that his main purpose in meeting with Danny was to assess whether or not he was “good enough” to be dating me. Who else has a pastor who will personally check out the significant others of their congregation? Not in a creepy way. It’s not like they gave him a lie detector test or asked him for a detailed description of his doctrinal beliefs (Sean and I are actually in an ongoing dialogue about doctrine because we have some differing views and I have lots of questions about this church community). He gave Danny both thumbs up. What an amazing group of people God has placed me in this summer. They care for me in a way NO group of people have ever cared before. These people have my back and my heart – no doubt about it.

Writhe: How God works on my struggles with providence and peace

I’m a writher.

When I feel myself drifting in a wrong direction or I feel like I’m in a very awkward and disjointed situation I have a tendency to feel my insides twist violently. It’s not a very good feeling, and it has the potential to affect others outside of myself negatively. The violent innerds may also be a result of negative interactions with others.

Lately, I have been having strange and awkward conversations about faith at work. I asked my manager about possibly not working Sunday mornings so that I could attend church. A few nights later at a BBQ I was put on the spot about my faith and a group of engaged in a very passionate discussion about relgion in general. Most of these people have been hurt by the church and shake angry fists at God. Some are even angry at a God they don’t believe exists. The problem I’ve been having is that a lot of these conversations feel forced and are started in the manner of a debate rather than a discussion. If you know me you also know how terribly I handle debates.

The seemingly forced and awkward conversations/debates that have ensued have left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I wrestled with awareness that, if asked, I doubted my ability to sit down and give a thought out answer to the question of why I believe what I do. So, I showed up to work early a few days ago and sat on the steps outside, listening to my music, and wrote out a quick blurb. It flowed better than I could have imagined and it reminded me of God’s great purpose amidst all this tension. He loves, so I love to the best of my ability.

Tonight was a different story. I’ve made a new friend with a lovely girl on my Pool team. She’s stellar and we share similar senses of humor (she majored in Lit too, hooray!).  Tonight she and her girlfriend (we’re actually not certain about this point, I’ve asked, but didn’t get a straight answer-pun not intended) gave me the sweater vest of my DREAMS! As we were chatting at the back of the van she asked me about why I chose religion, specifically Christianity.

It’s like GOD KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN! It was such a good conversation and it was amazing to be able to share my heart with this awesome girl and know that I believed every word that was coming out of my mouth and why. God used my writhing to settle truth in my heart. I have so much hope for furthering a friendship with this girl. It truly is providence.

I’m also writhing on another front of my life and in a different relationship. The response there, sadly, is not as simple as sitting on some steps, though I am sure it will be part of it at some point. No, in this instance I believe God is calling me to a strange sort of fast. Normally, I’m not a big participant in fasting, which my explain why I have no practice in self-denial and discipline. Hmmm. If you know me, I could really use some prayers this next month, if the fast actually happens.

So this is me settling after many weeks of writhing. It’s like God grabbed my body with both hands and made the churning stop. This is a beautiful moment and I have peace which surpasses all understanding. It was also cool that my pastor sat down and had a conversation with me about relationships, sex, sexuality and community. I love these people.

Hope endures all things.  Even writhers.

The Daydream Desk

I just moved from  Mount Hermon to Santa Cruz proper, and realized that I do not own a single piece of furniture, not even a mattress. A desk, I thought, would certainly be handy for sewing and writing projects. I found one at a garage sale around the corner for $10. It was white and dull, but I figured it’d be a fun painting project even though I know nothing about painting in general, and then it hit me: DANNY’S AN ARTIST! We could paint it TOGETHER!

The beginning: Dull

Step One: Sand the entire surface and peel off any of the already existing paint that is flaking. I loved this part.
Danny: You pick at your scabs don’t you?
Me: Maybe . . . (I said as I gleefully pulled off  another long strip of paint and then began hacking away with a scraper)

The choosing of the color was tricky. Some of Danny’s old acrylics recently turned up (making this entire project feasible on our super tight budgets), but there was not a great amount of any one color. We scavenged through some ancient latex paint in the garage and found some pastel white that had not rusted into nastiness. After adding a TON/ ALL of the Pthalo (so fun to say over and over) he had we somehow got this BRILLIANT blue. Love it, but it was only the beginning.

BRAINSTORMING IN THE KITCHEN AT THE RANCH:

Danny: So now we have a base color. . . what else do you want to paint on your desk?
Me: I have no idea . . . maybe a tree?
Daniel: You should have a robot dancing around in an elephant skeleton!
Duane: A Racoon!
Me: I want a robot and lovers reading a book or a bunch of worms playing poker in the roots.
Danny: What about a dirigible and a tree house?
Daniel: Giraffes with wings!
Me: YEAH! Giraffes with wings!

(Sadly, it doesn’t look like ALL of the ideas will make it onto the desk, but the few that did are certainly special in their own right.)                                                                   The rough sketch:

Let the Tree begin

I am, in no way, an artist, but I’m trying to help out as much as possible. The tree was the last stage I was able to work on. I actually spent the whole time peering up to see what Danny was doing on the main surface, I was working on the drawers, because I had no idea what I was doing. Apparently, you don’t just paint a tree using one color of brown with green leaves. There are highlights and low lights and knots and . . . yeah.
Who knew?
Danny, I suppose.

So here’s what the amazing boy has done lately:

And a close up of the top:

AMAZING!

He’s calling it The Daydream desk.

And it’s perfect.

I’ll keep you posted as the desk nears completion. I LOVE GETTING TO WATCH HIM WORK. What an amazing gift this is.

Also, Danny is starting to remember how much he loves to paint and is going to be starting up a miniature furniture painting business. So, if you have a desk, bed, table, or anything that you would like painted by a fantastic local artist (p.s. School is expensive and the job market sucks!), let me know! Kids furniture especially!

The artist and I after step 2

Bed dwelling caterpillars and new leaves to be turned

I just found a tiny red and yellow caterpillar in my bed. I have since lost him, and assume he is now a squished caterpillar in my quilt. Ah well. The tragedies of leaving the window open for three days straight.

I haven’t been able to write anything for far too long. In the last two months I’ve done a few things: flew to Washington to meet Danny’s parents for his sister’s wedding, OSS ended, my first plan for summer totally fell through, I moved, I got a new job, one of my best college friends got married, officially burst out of the thick christian bubble for the first time in 5 years and I’ve been trying to adjust. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least. I haven’t even been able to think in literary/story format all this while. And I actually have to leave for work in twenty minutes, but I need to get back in a writing groove.

Things to look forward to (my own personal to do list):

Crépe Chronicles – the first installation should be in this week, that’s my goal. Tales and tribulations of a busser at a hip local restaurant/concert venue/bar. It’s a smorgesborg of possibilities when it comes to stories. Did I mention that, as far as I know, I am the only Christian and only one of about 3 or 4 straight people? Everyone has been ridiculously nice, it’s an amazing team of people, and when they drink they all get very passionate about serious topics and like to yell at the same time.  I am SO excited.

THE DESK – I bought a desk for $10 at a garage sale around the corner of the house I am living in. Apparently I don’t own a single piece of furniture, not even a mattress. I might sail by with just my foamy mattress topper, which, despite its age, isn’t terrible once I inflated my camping pad and stuck it in the middle where it’s condensed over the years. Anyhow, I needed a desk where I could work on lesson plans, read, sew and sit like a normal person. After four months of dating I am finally getting to see more of Danny’s artistic side. He’s taking on this project with/for me and in the end I will have THE COOLEST DESK EVER!!! We’re poor, and it’s going to be GREAT!

COMMUNITY LIFE (Indealized and Realized) – I am living in a lovely little room with several members of my church. My housemates are a married couple that lives in the mini-loft upstairs and two single gals that share the first floor with me. Anyone remember how I would go on and on and on about community and the church? Yeah, well the first rent check was due and this summer I am living it. The tension created between my idealized visions and the reality of life together is going to be a trying and blisfful season. I am giddy and mildly terrified at the same time. The last two weeks have forced me into new stages of vulnerability with these people and also with Danny in ways I had never before dreamed.

It’s like running through a forest at full speed and coming to a screeching hault in order to stare at a few leaves for three months straight. This summer is definitely going to be about the details and Jesus is totally holding my hand.