Community

I've been contemplating the idea of community for the last few weeks. Now I do not mean the coffee, I don't think my boss would be too happy about that, I mean the act of "togetherness". An idea that is pleasing to hear but so often does not get practiced enough. I figure everyone has written something about community, whether it be a paragraph, a sentence or even a sermon. So, I guess it's my turn to leak my thoughts onto paper - or well computer that is.
The term community can apply to locations, groups of interacting people, and yes even a brand of coffee. The type of community that I am concerned with has no limitations on geography or caffeine content. It is the community of believers in Jesus Christ. Our connecting factor is the Holy Spirit.
I think that too often, as Christians, we mistake "having fun together" with community. Being part of a community does not only mean that you have fun with other members but that you also grow in the nitty gritty of life with other members. It's vulnerablity, it is expressing needs, and it is showing compassion with others. This idea of "togetherness" may be a little foreign to a country that is becoming increasingly individualistic but is so important to the vitality of life. We cannot live without one another. I know it is something we have heard before... but think about it. When was the last time you thought about someone, was reminded of someone, prayed for someone and did not tell them? You might have been embarrassed, felt awkward, or thought they did not care if you told them. Friends, I'm telling you, everyone wants to know they are thought of in some sort of way or another. So, stop being afraid and pick up the phone, write a letter or just give a hug. It might mean the world to someone.
I have been blessed by my community lately and is probably what prompted me to write this blog, that or the fact that I haven't written in awhile and am a little rusty.
It is through community that:
1. My mom sent me a sermon that spoke truth to me and helped me stand up to the devil and his lies.
2. After a really bad week, Daniel Cason and Jason Howell came to take care of lawn work at my house without me asking. It was probably the best gift I could have gotten this year. They did not know I was having a bad week, they just saw a need and acted upon it. I cannot explain to you the joy I have every time I pull up to my house and see a freshly mowed yard. It is not the trim grass that makes me smile. It is the reminder that two friends sensed the urge of the Holy Spirit and were obedient to Him. It is a reminder that the Lord cares about the details of my life.
3. My friends pray for me, love me through the junk in my life and do not judge.
4. I feel the Lord's presence and handle on my life.

When I think about Community I cannot help but think of the friends and family in my life that the Lord has used to shape me into the woman I am and the woman I am becoming. C.S. Lewis explains it better by saying, "In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles [Williams] is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s [Tolkien's] reaction to a specifically Charles joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald . . . In this, Friendship exhibits a glorious “nearness by resemblance” to heaven itself where the very multitude of the blessed (which no man can number) increases the fruition which each of us has of God. For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have."
Lewis talks about the death of his friend Charles and the impact it has on his community but I think what he says is clear. We need each other. I can say with all honesty that like Lewis " in each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out." So, thank you for being part of my community, for being willing to go through the nitty gritty with me.
I say all this to encourage you to pick up the phone next time you think of someone, or just send a little message, or cut their grass... you never know what kind of week they are having or what kind of impact you can be in their life.
Laugh. Love. Live for Jesus

Just me and a carry on

Let the adventure begin.....

So, I am heading to the great continent of Africa and had the challenge of packing two weeks worth of "stuff" in a carry on suitcase. I did it and still had room to spare. For a girl this is a very big victory. I got some pictures to document this momentous occasion - ok so it really isn't that big of a deal. Just check it out, though... notice the awesome neon band aid from the immunizations... ha ha


Ta Da ! Ok so it's 2 in the morning, I will be sleeping on that plane.

I was in the back eating cake

My friend Anne is a photographer who, at times, asks me to be her assistant at weddings. It's always interesting going to a stranger's wedding, meeting the bridal party and connecting with other vendors while the festivities carry on. Sometimes, though, at stranger's weddings you see someone you know (Grant Terry on this particular night) and there's always free food. Tonight was such a night. Other than holding video lights and grabbing lenses for Anne to quickly change I stayed in the background. Don't tell anyone but I totally snagged a piece of the groom's cake while everyone was dancing. And as I ate my cake filled of chocolate goodness I did a little analyzing.

This is what I would like to call my "I want to put on my my my my boogie shoes and boogie with you" section. Everyone loves to dance at weddings, especially if an open bar is involved. The Cupid Shuffle and Cha Cha slide are every photographers aggravation and every white person's favorite songs. Let's just face it white people can't dance, so put some directed step and a little ghetto beat and everyone on the dance floor feels like they can dance. And not everyone can dance. You got the guys who are all into the dance, arms wailing, feet flying and then you have the bouncers. They just stand there and bounce to the beat. Then there are the ones who don't want to put the drink down so they dance as carefully as they can with a cup still in there hand. And there are those who surprise you, they actually have some smooth moves.



This is what I would like to call my "I will suffer for beauty" section. Girls love their shoes and boy do the crazy ones come out at weddings. Even if a girl has band aids all around her heel she will still wear those 5 inch stilettos because they look good. A sister to the stiletto is the wedge. A slightly more comfortable option but still can be a little crazy. The higher the shoe, the crazier it seemed to be. Some will stick out the pain for the price of beauty, others don't care and kick them under the table.

So here's what I learned at the wedding :
Free Food = awesome
Free Cake = even better than awesome
Cupid Shuffle = white people can't dance
5 inch heels = aren't worth the band aids

The Beauty of God's Silent

For years I had been tormented with the idea that God was silent in my life. As if the very nature of those words meant something bad, or even worse that God was distant. If He didn't answer me then surely He wasn't there. Shouts of "Why?" or "Can't you hear me, Lord?" were exclamations that occupied my mind and my heart. Sadly, because of that mentality I fear that at times I had failed to recognize the divine presence in my life. Why is it that when God is silent we automatically think He isn't there? What is it about His silence do we actually fear? The Lord tells us He will never leave us so why fret? Franis Chan states in his book Forgotten God, that "it is safer for us to avoid situations where we need God then to stake it all on Him and risk God's silence. " This is where our thoughts live. We don't go to God because we are afraid that God will be silent. But here's the deal, God's silence is not a bad thing.
Have you ever been in a room with someone you love very dearly and yet neither of you speak to one another? You don't feel forgotten by this person you feel so comfortable and intimate with them that there are no words needed to validate your relationship. Even if you are burdened with something and you tell them; yet they have no words there is love shown by the fact that they are there for you. The Spirit has awaken me to the idea that God's silence is one of intimacy. His answer of silence means He wants you to delight in Him and know Him more. His silence means He has it all under control and all we need to do is trust. I think so often I look for the earthquake and fire when I need to be listening for the small voice(1 Kings 19). It is in this silence that comes a process of stillness in which we can grow in our identity as the beloved. So maybe instead of being fearful of God's silence we can look forward to it.

The ticking noise

Sometimes I wonder how such a small creature can make a grown woman stand on her bed as if it were a raft drifting in the middle of the sea. I sat there stranded on my mattress looking at the bedroom floor in search for that little ticking noise that was driving me nuts. I just knew it was a bug. Even worse I figured it was a roach. Just two days ago I saw one creep from under my desk, wiggle his little antenna, and then scurry back under the desk before I could squish it. He had some nerve showing his face, taunting me, with an attitude that he was somehow quicker and smarter than I. Oh, he held the power to keep me on my toes all right. It was like walking on eggshells every time I came into the room. I was so nervous he would show up again while I was sitting at my desk doing homework. Just this time I was afraid he would land on me. After a couple of days of no show I put that pesky roach out of my mind. Until tonight. I came in to my room and immediately heard a strange ticking noise. I had my sister come check it out, but of course, when she came in the ticking stopped. I knew I wasn't going crazy but maybe it was just the plastic walmart bag crinkling in the corner. But it wouldn't stop. My bed became my only safety as I searched over the endless sea of hardwood to find the source of the noise. I finally found it. It was a bug, I was right, only smaller than a roach and mostly dead. It's ticking made it jump and I threw a flip flop over it. The ticking stopped. It's still there, dead under the flip flop. I just hope the "you know what" under my desk is gone too.

Laughable

Today was what one might call a laughable day. I do not mean the kind of laugh that you get when you watch the Three Amigos sing "My little buttercup," in a saloon full of Mexicans. Though that is quite enjoyable. I do not mean the kind of laugh when Matt Stone makes some sort of inappropriate joke, nor do I mean the good-hearted chuckle of friends having a good time. When I say laughable I mean the kind of laugh that makes you slump in a chair, lean your head back, laugh to yourself and say "are you serious? That would be something that would happen to me today."
Waking up before the sun rises is never fun but though my day started at 5am I had no worries. It took about 30 minutes for my eyes to get adjusted to being awake but somehow I had managed to get dressed and get to work without a hitch, even though I couldn't see. By the time I had arrived at work my eyes were alert and properly functioning but the rest of my body did not respond in the same fashion. Some people would say I was a bit clumsy at work. I had made an excellent sampling of our new latte and then in the same manner gracefully spilled it on the counter. I made whip creams that seemed to explode from the top and drip down the sides and I spilled a bunch of stir sticks on the condiment bar. Not a big deal, messes happen daily at the bucks ..... then I dropped an entire drawer of money on the floor in the back. " Seriously," was the only thing I could muster up as I picked up pennies that had flown all the way under the supply shelves. No matter, it was 11:30 and time for me to go home. On my way home I stopped by the bank to drop off the daily deposit. So, in the drive thru lane at Chase I preceded to drop my bag into the sliding box but had not realized in my hurried state to get out the door I did not tape the bag shut. Money flew out of the bag, onto the ground and under my car. I hurriedly picked up the money I saw next to me and placed it in the box and began to read as I waited for the teller to count my drop. " Um, mam"..... I heard the teller say to me. " Did you drop some more money because I'm short sixty dollars." Imagine the look of a deer in headlights. That's about how I felt. In full Starbucks attire, hat, apron and all I get down on my knees and pray the money is on the ground. Here's the scene : 20 bucks under my car, 3o dollars behind my car and two gentlemen in a tan truck across from me yelling " Girl, if you're letting money blow away send some our way." I waved, chuckled and said " oh if only I could." The gentlemen were nice enough to point out the last 20 dollar bill behind me and so I gave it to the teller, got in my car, sighed a little and continued to read. "Um, mam...." he said a couple of minutes later. "We can't deposit a 50 cent euro." Where did that come from? I knew the coin looked strange when I had put it in the bag but I didn't think much of it. I found 50 American cents in my wallet and gave it to the poor teller, who by this point has a good story to tell his workmates. After the 50 cent switch I received my receipt and headed home.
Oh, but the fun doesn't stop there. The school quarter is ending and with the mess of scattered papers on my floor and misplaced bills I decided it was time to organize my life. I would go to walmart get some file folders and binders then head to campus and print things out for class. I never made it to campus. I grabbed my school bag and found myself sitting in walmart's parking lot looking for my purse in my car. I had left it at home. At this point I just leaned my head back and laughed. I mean what else could I do - of all the days. I just knew something like this would happen. I drove back home, found my purse on the chair where I had left it. "Walmart run try #2," I said to myself as I backed out of my carport. From there my day went better and I was able to buy my file folders and binders and begin the organization process. But I had to just laugh, sigh, and maybe groan a little at the events of the day. What else could I do? At least I got a euro from all this mess.

The Arctic Winter

My house is well, let's just say cold. When I say cold I do not mean a light breeze, or circulating coolness from a ceiling fan. Oh no. When I say cold I mean ARCTIC WINTER. Some of you may think that's a bit of an exaggeration but when you sit on that cold porcelain toilet seat and it makes you want to jump right back off as if you stepped on a caterpillar then you know what I mean. Even as I type this I shiver ever so slightly waiting for the space heater to fill the room with warmth. But warmth can't come soon enough. Sometimes sitting in this Frigidaire of a house makes me think of people who try to climb Mount Everest and sleep in snow covered caves and like it. I mean I love camping and hiking and all but that puts it on a whole new level. At least I can't get frostbite in here. I wonder if those adventurous hikers ever hear wolves howling at night and owls hooting in the distant trees. I think I have my version of the howling wolves right next door. The lady who lives next door, I've never met, but I've heard tales of her calling her cats into her house at night with a singsong nature and undistinguishable words. It happens late at night and my roommates find it quite funny. Well tonight I heard it - wow. I don't think I've ever heard anything like it before. It was as if in a high pitched voice she was singing some kind of cat opera in a language I couldn't understand. Maybe it was a cat language. Funny thing is it kind of put me at ease. I guess when you sit alone in your cold living room it kind of feels nice that there is a crazy cat lady living next door. I think she successfully called in her cats because I can't hear her anymore. The neighborhood is going to bed and though my fingers and toes are still cold I still wonder about the hikers on Mount Everest. I wonder if in that cave they just wished they would have brought a snuggie along with them.