confessions of a suicidal squirrel

dear lady who hates me,

i did it. it was me. not the other guys. i just couldn't resist the juiciness of the pumpkins, and your flowers were the perfect place to bury my nuts. i will miss running on your window ledge early in the morning and making the choking noises outside your living room.

please don't forget me.
-the squirrelly one

squirrel attack!

it's a known fact that i have issues with squirrels. they eat my pumpkins, dig holes in my garden, knock over the plants on my porch, and run up the sides of my house. my life would be less stressful if it were squirrel-less.

there is another type of squirrel in my life; a particular class that i teach. like the animals, the kids dart all over the place, not paying attention, and knocking things (usually each other) over. they also cause stress, but it's only over such things as: potentially loosing one in the frenzy of outdoor pe, major injuries due to their lack of listening to directions, and their lack of listening to directions resulting in my having to repeat myself about twenty times. this particular class, mostly due to their age, is also pretty clueless so i was flabbergasted when they decided to think for themselves the other day.

we were trying to play kickball with nine students in the sprinkly rain. not only was it not enough players, but these specific kids were not enjoying it. (i know, how can you NOT love kickball!) one little fella decided he would try to knock the ball out of my hands in between pitches. when another of the more athletically inclined squirrels joined in, I had a much harder time keeping the ball away from them. before i knew it, most of the class was on me...most of them trying to get the ball, but a few of them attempting to defend me. the shock of their rebellion was paralyzing as they mauled me for the ball.

eventually order overtook the chaos, and i somehow managed to keep the ball in my hands. but in the meantime, my heart grew just a little bit for the squirrels. it's taken almost the entire school year, but i think i really like them.

this event, however, has no effect on my feelings toward the animal.

not the best i've ever created, but it was still fun

death of a favorite

(just for the record, that's my pocket peeking out, not unmentionables)

spring in my yard (the result of hard work in the fall)

sometimes i feel like i'm on such a huge learning curve, yet i'm grateful that i am still teachable. i'm often amazed that god isn't more frustrated with me, and continuously thankful for the grace i don't deserve. like most people, i'm scared of what would make me uncomfortable; that is often the very place where god decides to call me. i'm not in a place to elaborate on these two statements in a way specific to my life...just yet. but i will say that i'm having a good laugh (or maybe a good cry) at the fact that i still haven't picked up on the fact that god calls me away from my comfort. after a bit of resistance i'll step into the uncomfortable, be challenged, encouraged, see a whole new side of god's character, and eventually will begin to feel like i belong in whatever situation that may be. of course at the same time there is usually this "i don't think he would ever ask me to do _______" in the back of my mind. and of course, that "i don't think...." becomes the next uncomfortable thing he's asking me to do.

the discernment and transition stage is the worst. trying to figure out if god is really saying what i think he's saying, and then actually stepping into it. everything so new it's like stepping into a foreign land when it may only be across the street...or sitting right next to you.

while i college, i was assigned to work one year in the security department. for the first several months, i was assigned a student partner. we got to wear security ball caps and roam campus in the golf cart from 8pm to midnight one night a week. we would lock all of the academic buildings and just be certain that everything appeared safe. when the iowa winter began to hit, i was moved inside due to a circulatory disease which doesn't do so well in the cold. if you know iowa winters, you would think that was a blessing, but if you knew the reputation of the head of security you would think differently. john was an infamous name on campus. he was known for being quietly gruff, although many students would have chosen different adjectives for him. he showed little mercy when it came to parking tickets and had very little tolerance for the dumb things that college kids would do. ever the rule follower, i was a bit fearful of him and what would happen if i ever accidentally broke the rules (because i would never intentionally break the rules :) ) so when the winter chill came, i found myself sitting (scared) less than five feet away from him three afternoons a week.

one day while venturing across campus to the security office, i heard this voice say "ask john how you can pray for him". what? yes, i did what every normal person would do and quickly dismissed it. as i got closer to the building where the office was housed, "ask him." no way. there is no way i am going to ask him that. i entered the office and greeted john in the usual friendly, but cool way. "ask him." i shot to my desk and began to widdle away at the stack of parking tickets from the weekend. the further i got into the stack, the more i heard the words, and the more i heard the words, the more fearful i grew. "what if he's not a christian and he jumps down my throat? how will i ever be able to come back to this office?" eventually the room started to spin and my productivity decreased drastically. i kept praying that he would get called out of the office so that i could just be comfortable. but when that didn't happen, i closed my eyes and told the voice that i would open my mouth but that's as far as i could go alone.

i slowly turned in my chair to face john. he saw this which was my cue that there was no going back. i opened my mouth, and from what seemed like someone removed from me, came tender and calm words "i was wondering if i could being praying about something for you?" my heart was pounding in my ears. i watched the expression on john's face go from the gruff security man to a very tender, broken, vulnerable human, and he proceeded to tell me about how he was once a pastor. he shared with me the intimate story of why he was no longer a pastor and continued with the fact that he was trying to discern if he should return. and he just wanted prayer to really hear from god!

it was a highly uncomfortable situation, sitting next to him everyday. this man that was rumored as mr. tough on campus when really he was just doing his job. i prayed for john that day, and i prayed for john every day after that for a month. our greetings were no longer chilly, but covered in smiles and authenticity. i began to look forward to going to work, and when my time as a security worker was over, i found myself stopping by often just to say hi. then one day, several months later, the office wasn't the venue any longer. one sunday morning, i found myself, along with a couple of friends, leading worship for a little congregation that god had brought john to pastor.

even though the process isn't always so fun, i love that god pushes us into tiny little offices to sit next to uncomfortable so that we can get even the smallest glimpse of grace and redemption and relationship and his character. pieces of him that i'm certain i would miss out on if i only lived unyielding to the call from comfort.

in a funny mood

i'm feeling both lighthearted and lightheaded today. i'm not sure of the cause of either, but the following are some effects:

1. realizing two hours after putting pants on that the reason they are so uncomfortable is that they are on backwards! (in my defense...they were sweatpants)

2. allowing my students to bend the rules a little more than normal while playing floor hockey (btw - i think one of my students cracked the knuckle on her thumb today..she took it like a champ!)

3. taking time to laugh at videos like this: (i love these guys by the way...i highly recommend taking the time to watch ALL of their videos...i've been following them for about 3 years now)

blogging failure

do you ever find yourself in the middle of speaking, but unable to recall just what the point was you had so eloquently planned to make? the words are there just circling through the back of your head, dipping down towards your tongue in hopes of making a connection, but you just can't seem grab them as they come along.

this seems to be happening to me a lot over the last few days. the first signs manifested during a conversation with a new friend. i was internally embarrassed as i was unsure about what impression my stuttering and inability to form coherent sentences would leave on the one sitting across the table from me. last night, it continued in conversation during a fundraiser for my school. good thing donors don't give based on my ability to process quickly enough for conversation.

earlier today, i had a blog post all established in my mind. perfectly formed sentences arranged in a manner to make a point; all lost in the cycle of my brain. somewhere between forming the piece in my mind and actually sitting down to write, it just left. no stuttering. no incoherent sentences. just gone.

i sat looking at the blank screen for about an hour in hopes that it would dip close enough to my tongue so i could snatch it up. obviously it didn't. so instead, i blog about the failure to blog. hmm.

they will renew the ruined cities

in my last post when i said "more thoughts of the serious variety tomorrow", i really meant "more thoughts of the serious variety in the near future when i can slow down enough to turn the jumbled mess in my brain into understandable, organized statements on paper." that time, as it turns out, is now.

last weekend, i boarded a plane that took me from one dangerous, dying city to another in an attempt for a bit of vacation. rather ironic, i know, but the abandoned houses, barred windows, drug house across the street felt more like home than other "vacations" i've taken. i even slept better than i normally do when away from the comfort of my own bed.

even though it felt like home, it didn't look like home. i've been in enough "inner cities" to know what one stereotypically looks like, but this city was different. this city didn't seem to have hope. in "my" city, you can drive through the worst neighborhood and come across a street of people who have intentionally moved in to be neighbors, to do life. they shop at the local stores, walk to church, and choose not to use air conditioning so that they sit on their front porches. with that comes hope for restoration; for peace. in detroit, very little of that exists. the people that afford to, are moving out of there quickly, leaving houses and buildings boarded up and falling down; causing the local economy to fall apart; making the poor become even poorer. the hopelessness was like a foggy polution.

my friend chris is one of those people that i never imagined living in barred house across the street from both a pimp and a drug dealer. chris was a small town preacher's kid, and the counselor who worked his way up to supervisor at the mostly white, christian, suburban kid's camp where we met. he went to a mostly white, very conservative reformed college. during his senior year (shortly after we became friends), he showed up in the exhibit hall of a conference called urbana where i happened to be working, and he said to me, "i think god might be calling me to teach in a city." i spent some time showing him around my city (which had just topped the most dangerous city chart a few months earlier) and processing what a decision like that would look like. i wasn't surprised when a few months later he chose to teach english in japan instead. chris needed that year in japan (although it was very hard), but god brought him back, set him right in the middle of a decrepit neighborhood, and said "enter into this mess. love the kids. bring some hope." chris has done just that. he's been there all of six months and has done what many experienced teachers in mainstream classes cannot do: he brought his students up to grade level in math and reading. urban children that live in small houses with eight-ten other people; in single parent homes where drugs and alcohol and a number of boyfriends and girlfriends keep children up at all hours; where good nutrition is not affordable; in a school with very little money and fewer resources; in a city where the graduation rate is 27%. chris brings hope.

a part of me really wants to rejoice that i live in the city where hope exists in little pockets; to be proud that i live in the city that is no longer dying. but then faces of the students in chris's little school give life, give a name, to the hopelessness. they didn't choose to live there, but they unknowningly depend upon the people who do choose to live there for a chance to "get out" or even just a chance to survive.

there's a promise in the bible that i have loved for years which takes on an even greater meaning after my visit. it's a promise i'm choosing to believe in and pray over the city of detroit. it's a promise that i hope will bring encouragement to chris and jessi and jessica and eric and dana and the few others that believe god has not yet forsaken the city. it goes a little something like this:

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
(this is the best part)
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.
They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.

bedtime story

i just spent a re-energizing weekend in detroit with an old friend

and a new friend.

we went to this little place where it is christmas all year.

we could partake of gingerbread houses,

speak many languages,

and spy on santa.

we also visited the silent night chapel (a replica of the real silent night chapel in austria) because christmas is really all about jesus.

then we visited a quaint german town

where i got to introduce my old friend to food from my ethnic heritage



the deliciousness made me happy.

the next day, we went over the bridge to canada.

we did not eat at a canadian mcdonalds,

but we did gaze at the detroit skyline

before taking the tunnel under the river back to the states.

i saw funny things while in michigan.

i saw impactful things while in michigan. (the bus rosa parks rode. ironically, i sat in the back.)

i had a great time while in michigan.

the end.

more thoughts of the serious variety tomorrow.

these pictures are way too fun not to share

there's creativity oozing from my closet

i'm taking this class at my new church that deals with aspects of how we live life together as the church (not just that church, but the church). tonight dealt with spiritual gifts. i have been thinking a lot lately about giftings, specifically mine. it's pretty obvious that i've got the administrative stuff. (hey don't judge me by my freezer.) over the last four years, god has been deconstructing and rebuilding me, along the way revealing things about me that i didn't know or that i didn't recognize. one of those things being what i think might be some artist personality tendancies. something about that feels very awkward - a creative "type a". the pastor who taught the class tonight was talking about different personality types and he said, "there are those who have their closets all neat and tidy and organized by color. and there are those whose closets you can't even see, but those are the people that ooze creativity." i know that god is the creator and he can create whatever the heck he wants, but it's hard to wrap my mind around creativity oozing out of my organized closet. it causes me to wonder if i'm really just one posing as the other. so which would i be? (note: i do know that a person can have more than one gifting, but seriously, how often do these two go together?)

i can't escape the administrator in me. i don't love the administrator in me, but i love the order and effciency the administrator in me produces.

as for the creative side (which by the way my new church calls the creative communicator spiritual gift). i've got that whole singing thing...for like 22 years now, worship teams and worship leading, saxophone for 9 years, guitar now for 3 months, some photography (which has been affirmed in the sense that a couple of my photos have won very local awards), and i've been hearing more and more lately that i'm a good story teller. i also love to create with food by deviating from a recipe or figuring out how to mesh random things from my fridge into one dish. i feel incredibly close to god in nature and through music, and often hope that when people look at my photos or listen to me sing or allow me to lead them in worship, that will find some sort of connection to their creator. can those things justify my being a creative communicator? is it okay that i'm just mediocre at all of these things, instead of a master of one? how do explain the feeling i get when i touch my guitar or take photographs that move me to closer to the center of god's character?

this post is a lot of processing aloud. i'm interested in what you have to say, not to affirm who i am, but more just to gather some opinions on what feels to be two naturally conflicting giftings, if the one is really my gift. so please, leave your thoughts. start a discussion.