the art of everything

i'm taking my "for fun" class (for my master's program) this term. it's called "artists are alive and well", but it should be called "art appreciation for dummies (or those who have never had memorable basic instruction in art)". i consider myself a creative, but did not have those memorable moments of art instruction (sorry, mr. collingham) so i feel like i am learning quite a bit in this class. i have moved from looking at a piece of art and saying, "it's pretty" or "i'm really drawn to it" to actually explaining, using basic art principles, why it's pretty or grips at a certain emotion. but i digress....

as we went further into the class, i found myself thinking more and more about Jesus and about the city. it all started with an article by roger rosenblatt centered on 'what is art.' while mr. rosenblatt was really talking about art and artists, i couldn't help but think about the way of Jesus. read these quotes first, and then i'll explain:

"the art of everything is to make one see what is present and real rather than what one wishes to be monumental and ideal."

"it is not simply a matter of catching the small stuff. it's about being alert to the non-ideal, the imperfect, the accidental gesture, the distracted gaze, to the pose that is not a pose. to be alert to the emotion of the continuum, rather than to search out a single lofty moment-one needs to look in the wrong direction to find the right direction."

"again and again to remind the artist to look for the eternal in the evanescence and not to wish life be better than it is because it's better as it is."

these quotes (and the article) are very much about not setting up a moment, but rather catching a moment. to catch a moment in process we often have to look in the places that are the least likely or that may feel wrong.

ten years ago at the end of this month, i was exposed to the city. not just the city, but the most visibly broken, struggling, rough parts of it. this is when i met the real Jesus (as opposed to the Jesus in my head). see, Jesus was very much in tune with the non-ideal and the imperfect. He went the "wrong direction" and in doing so, led people the right direction. He still does so today by leading people to humbly and faithfully cross cultural and economic barriers in order to build lasting relationships that change lives. my dealings with the city have taught me about community (as it takes a village not just to raise a child but to live life), authentic relationships (my life became much less stressful when i realized the value of practicing authenticity with all people), and most definitely humility (when i first came, i thought i would be helping people, but really they have helped me, or rather changed my life). i have learned to stop trying to create my moments and see my moments as they are happening. i never imagined that i would sit on the porch of an 88 year old african american and have him say to me that he never imagined he would sit and the hold the hand of a young white woman. i never thought i would get to walk alongside families who not only foster children, but try to connect with the birth family in a way that might bring them to know Jesus. it never occurred to me that i would get to be a part of what Jesus is doing in my city and even briefly in a city on the west coast. but here i am. just like mr. rosenblatt says, i'm learning to pay attention for the accidental, the forgotten, the thrown away. it's the "art of everything."

just as that third quote says life, even in the hard moments, is better as it is.

the whole dang thing

on april 10th, my roommate was proposed to by a seemingly wonderful man, ben. i am not known to do this on my blog, but today, i'm going to promote his blog.

ben has a strong love of scripture (as does andrea) and is taking it to new levels. he is manuscripting the entire Bible from front to back. for those of you that are unfamiliar with the term manuscript or inductive Bible study, it is a way of studying scripture that strips back a lot of what the world says about the Bible and just uses the Bible and your brain (and a few resources) to see what is being said. the passage is printed on paper that often gets marked up as the reader makes observations and poses questions. here is an example.

as you can imagine, this inductive study of the Bible is quite a process. ben is hoping to finish in four years (if i remember what he told me correctly) doing at least 4 chapters a week. the coolest part of this whole adventure, in my opinion, is that he is letting the world benefit from it as well. he is blogging about each and every chapter; hence the reason for my promotion of this blog. ben has some great insight, allows the Lord to speak to him through his studies, and then writes about it in a way that often infuses pop culture and daily life with that from the days of the old testament, not at all an easy feat. his writings are relevant, funny, and challenging. each time i read them, i not only learn something new, but find myself contemplating the concepts throughout the day.

so, check it out.....the whole dang thing

i've been trying to figure out how to write about this for days now; twenty-three to be exact. but for once i am truly struggling. i don't really know what will come out as i write this one, (and it will probably not be a well written piece) but i just need to let it flow. i'm one of those people that tends to hold onto hope, but there may be a fine line between hope and naivete or even hope and pure denial. i got to visit my grandpa in the hospital on february 12th. he had been there (unexpectedly) for several weeks. when i left that room, i honestly believed that he would get better. i knew it would be a long road of recovery, but i really thought i would see him again. hope or denial?

grandpa passed away a week and a half later, and i found myself at my first funeral. i know, almost thirty and never been to funeral? i sat in the pew with my sisters and watched as person after person hugged my grandma. it quickly became clear that grandpa was a well-liked man as the room was packed. we had been hearing stories of some of these people for years. a handful of them read my blog and have followed my past adventures. in some ways, we felt like we knew each other, but we had never actually met. by the time i left for home, i had a deep admiration for my grandparents' friends.

it's been almost a month since his death and i'm finding it interesting the things we remember about him; my sister keeps talking about the clicking of his dentures when he chews his gum. i sometimes hear his voice, "well, ya know amanda...". and that darn pink frosting; at its mention during the funeral, i could no longer hold back my tears.

i don't know what else to say. it's not profound. it's far from funny. but it is therapeutic. and that's about all i can ask for right now.

revisiting an old post

i'm perched at a table by the big picture window, watching the big fluffy flakes swirling against the backdrop of brick buildings and moving cars. the focus of today was supposed to be grad school work. while i've been mildly successful, i've had to fight through the wanderings of my own mind. today, my thoughts are in two places.

last year, i attempted to write about 50 people who had left imprints on my soul. while there are definitely 50 people, i only wrote about half of them. as of today, one of them has been in the icu for three and a half weeks. i try not to think about it because it breaks my heart. i can't stand the thought of not having him in my life, despite the pink frosting he puts on my birthday cakes and the fact that he always firmly believes that mizzou will beat nebraska. i pray constantly that god will heal him, but he has a very long ways to go. just for fun, here's what i wrote about him in my footprints on the soul series:

i call him grandpa

we share not one drop of the same blood, yet he calls me his. when i was little girl, he'd make the process of washing my hair memorable and remind me to be a "good egg". now, he only reminds me to wear a life jacket.

he's an interesting fellow; confident but not showy in his uniqueness. once a successful business man; now retired, but retirement has not slowed him down. he has a great house on a big lake where he fishes from the dock and from the boat. every once in a while, he can be spotted cruising down the channel on a jet ski. he's put in over a thousand hours at the local fish hatchery which has involved days of untangling little kids' fishing poles.

he does things you would never expect, like collecting marbles. i can't even tell you how many he has, but he knows the story of each one; each artist. this knowledge almost makes the marble come alive; like looking at a glass painting. he took up quilting not too many years ago and likes to finish the unfinished he comes across. i'm convinced he can fix almost anything. if he doesn't have the right tool, he does research and figures out how to get or make the tool to fit the project.

he's traveled the world; china, the amazon, alaska, the middle east, europe, australia, northeast iowa, adding diversity to his stockpile of wisdom.

what i love about him? the fact that he makes my birthday cake every year intentionally with the wrong kind of frosting because its funny; that he'll shoot squirrels and geese and snakes for trespassing, yet he intentionally builds things to welcome hummingbirds and bluejays; that he's known for cheating while playing cards, although i don't think i've ever actually seen him cheat; that he never tires of my questions.

we share not one drop of the same blood, yet he calls me his. and me? i call him grandpa.

named

it isn't ironic. it's not even coincidental or fate or by chance. in the old testament, names were given based on personalities or characteristics of the individual. in many cases, God actually renamed people to fit who He had intended for them to be instead of the person the world defined them as. jacob became israel because he wrestled with God; abram, abraham as he would one day be the father of many. God told the newly renamed abraham to name his son, isaac because he was about to bring much laughter to the older, barren couple. later God renames saul to be paul.

my name is amanda, and god named me. my parents had been expecting a boy. they were so caught off guard by my femaleness that their lack of choosing a name caused a delay in my release from the hospital. out of desperation my parents agreed to pray as they parted ways one day. they reunited at the end of the day, each carrying a slip of paper. i like to imagine my dad walking down the hospital hallways with sweaty palms and a nervous heart, wondering if what he carried in his hand would match anything my mom had heard from God. when at last their papers exchanged hands, i picture shock and awe and gratefulness as they read "amanda" written by the hands of their beloved. just like God told abraham to name his son isaac, He told ron and denise to name their daughter amanda.

now, as a twenty-nine-year-old woman, i am finally understanding the depth of just why God chose that name for me. i have spent most of my life feeling broken down, tired, sometimes ugly, and often unloved (although many people have loved me very well). God knew that this would be a lifelong battle for me; that there would be days of extreme loneliness even in the midst of people; that i would be my worst enemy in finding a fulfilling kind of love; that even when i felt loved, i would be uncomfortable. He knew that there would be a need for a daily reminder, a sort of stamp on my soul. God gave me something i could never get rid of, even in spite of myself. He branded me with a meaning, a characteristic that the world could never reshape no matter the circumstances. God named me amanda, "worthy of love". in that, there is no irony.

the words of a 10 year old

i had a pretty rough day today. the kind of rough that leaves you in tears for a couple of hours when you finally get home and let your hair down. the truth is, there are parts of my life that have been hard for a while now. as i last wrote, there are days when i struggle to find words; a tension that spills over into my relationship with God. today as i cried, i wrestled with this and just as i was about to give up, my fancy phone lit up. as she sometimes does, my 10 year old friend had nabbed her mother's phone to text me. she told me about her day and asked about mine. while i may spare the details, i'm not okay with lying to children. when she heard about the generalities of my day, she said the age old christian cliche 'i will pray for you'. but nothing about her words fit "cliche" as the next thing she said was 'dear god, i pray for..." after the 'amen', she said she loved me. it's a profound moment that i will probably never quite be able to grasp. in the very second that my internal pain paralyzed my lips, my 10 year old friend stood in the gap.

when i can't speak, i sing

sometimes i go through phases where there is so much going on, that i can't find the words to write. my blog silence started as busyness while in the midst of papers for grad school, work, and prep for oakland. now, i just can't find the words. my soul spends days both aching and rejoicing which makes verbal expression quite difficult. when i can't speak, i sing. like any artist or a spiritual person, there is an indescribable something that happens when i connect to the part of my soul that unleashes the music. i have both art and god, and this is what i have been singing lately:

violet eyes, white cloud skies
she was plainly ordinary
no silver wings, no big dreams
she never bothered anybody

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

wounded soul
with no home to go to
but really nothing so unusual
she learns to deal
and maybe not to feel
and leaves the light on
while she's sleeping

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

is there more than breathing
or motionless hoping for
kindred ties, orphan lies
easier to run than reconcile
mountains high, cursed nights
when you run, you drag it all behind

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

--sandra mccracken

big and unexpected. those were the words i used in my prayer just days after i realized that i didn't pray with real belief and expectancy. there has been a restless feeling in the pit of my stomach for months now; like something great is around the corner or just out of my reach. so i prayed, literally for something big and unexpected, and made a firm decision to believe god was going to make it happen.

two weeks later i found myself saying "are you serious?" to the face of a man who was very unexpectedly inviting me into something bigger than i could have imagined. in the moment, i didn't recognize it as god's answering that prayer. perhaps i don't dream big enough for myself so i'm easily caught off guard.

this man was serious and just seven days later, i found myself committing to the big and unexpected; to moving westward for a season; to stepping into something i never viewed myself as having the ability to do. there are a lot of lessons i could pull from this; there are a lot of lessons i'm going to pull from this before this whole thing is over, but the one thing i do know is that praying with great confidence in my god is something i will continue to do.

and i'll try not to be so surprised when he answers in the truly unexpected ways.

for those of you who are dying to hear the specifics:
i'm going to be spending the summer in oakland, california, directing intervarsity's bay area urban project. those of you that have been "traveling" with me over the years would be familiar with citylights in st. louis and the chicago urban project, both of which i was a part of as a college student. bayup (bay area urban project) is the same. while each project has it's own specific vision and structure, all projects have the same underlying mission: for students to be exposed to/wrestle with, have a rich understand of, and cultivate a desire to live out the biblical view of justice--for the urban poor, the orphan, the immigrant, the refugee--, reconciling races and nations, all the while seeing the gospel interwoven into the bigger picture.

what does this look like practically? most projects include an element of study, both of scripture and experienced authors. students live in community with each other and the neighborhood in which they are placed (most often an inner city). the largest component is similar to an internship where students spend each day or portion of with some sort of non-profit/church/organization that is doing work among the neighborhoods in which they live. in st. louis, students are sent to places such as a summer tutoring program, a spanish speaking medical clinic, and among burundian refugees. in all cases, the idea behind this is that the students will dive into these sub-communities and find that is is through relationship that the gospel can begin to breed justice.

what will i be doing? because every project is structured differently, and because i'm just stepping into what is normally a year round position for only a summer, i don't fully know yet. it will involve some pastoral care for students and staff, some administration/logistics of the day to day stuff that comes up, maintaining networks and checking in with placement sites for students, a couple of talks, and really helping students and staff put the various pieces of what they are learning together.

how can you be praying?
1. for my upcoming trip to mexico city (jan. 27-31) to join other urban project directors and global project directors for the annual training.
2. for a leadership team to come together.
3. for preparation--josh (the former bayup director and now national coordinator for urban projects) will be doing a lot of the initial planning and passing things off to me.
4. for the ability to learn and retain quickly. this particular project has a structure that i've not been a part of before. oakland is a new city. all of the agencies, partners, networks will be very new to me.
5. for the students and staff that will be calling bayup home for the summer.

my one year anniversary

it's often the things and people that i judge the harshest that end up most radically changing my life; a book that i'll never read, a place i'll never go, even a person i'll never be friends with. god finds ways of changing my heart toward the "judged", then allowing the "judged" to trample all over my life, ruining it (for the better).

it was a year ago today that i walked into just such a place. i had begun the search for a new church to call home, and was certain (in my self-righteous heart) that the building i walked into on january 3, 2009 would not be the place for me. but because i was invited by someone i trusted, i entered anyway. the first words spoken from the stage (by the worship leader), put a hole in the wall of things i believed to be true about this church. each time i came back with a "yeah god, but what about________?", another hole was punched into my wall until eventually it could no longer stand. it was then that my heart heard the invitation to call the building "home", the "herd" "family", and delve with honesty into an authentic community with an open mind about where i might be pushed.

authentic community is the first thing i found. from a pastor that actually wanted to know me by name and story when there are thousands in the church to the two ladies who decided that i was worth it to complete the triangle of friendship to the lady who recently took a gamble and is investing some time in guiding me through life to the incredibly unexpected and transparent friendship formed with another in the last eight weeks; there is really nothing i feel that i could tell these people that would make them stop going deeper with me. for the first time in my life, i never feel the need to wear a mask at any moment. authenticity lends itself well to growth, for when people can see the real you, they will call out your stuff and push you to become even more like christ. and i've definitely done my fair share of growing this year.

the theme of this year has really been one of discovering my "true self". when god invited me into this new church, he greeted me at the door with just the right people to continue the unveiling process. it started with the simple act of commenting on a man's blog and then accidentally meeting his parents and finally him. his kind and simple words made me squirm and then wrestle, and then one day it all released from my head to become a part of how i lived. this same man, in his natural pastoral way, gave me one of the greatest christmas gifts ever when he pointed out change that he had seen in me over my year at this new church. what he didn't know as he spoke, what no one knows, is that i had first asked god for that part of me to change ten years ago; prayers fulfilled in unexpected ways years after the hope of fulfillment subsided.

then there came this woman who, in her quiet beauty, found a way to encourage the insecure artist in me. whether she really believes that my art is good enough doesn't matter because in her choosing to validate my show design (co-design), my photos, my poetry, she opened a door that allows me to write freely, to sing with abandon, and have confidence in what comes when i choose to create.

i lack the eloquence to paint just what i'm really feeling in this moment, just one year after i was certain that this would not be a place for me. i'm humbled that god chose to bring me into such a great place where i'm free to fail and to succeed and to love and to create and to cry and to boisterously laugh. the gratitude i have for the people who have chosen to walk with me in this community replaces words with tears. god is overwhelmingly good, perfectly sovereign, and answers prayers that sometimes don't even get spoken.

(to julie, adrianne, monty, tim b., viv, jamie, ced, lauri, nancy and bill, and to the leadership and community that graciously opens their arms to all becoming the hands and feet of jesus in the moments that often seem so insignificant. moments that are most significant in the kingdom.)

snow covered and pulling a heavy wagon

this is a photograph. a photograph that i snapped one thanksgiving when the snow, a rarity in my city, showed it's face at my parents' house. this photograph was chosen for a 2010 calendar that circulates locally, and most recently, it was chosen as part of a little art show too. it was truly a picture that i took in a quick moment as my mom was yelling through the kitchen for me to shut the door, and my bare feet refused to step out into the snow. i didn't realize in that rushed minute, i captured something much deeper.

the red wagon is a child's toy. little boys fill them with dirt. little girls fill them with dolls. parents fill them with their children in an attempt to avoid carrying their sleeping bodies ten blocks home after late night fireworks.

this particular red wagon never got to be a child's toy. it didn't hold dirt or dolls or sleeping children. instead, it held gallons of milk, boxes of cereal, and other meal supplies as the nine-year-old hands gripped the handle and tugged it up the hill toward home. the wagon never got to be a child's toy, in truth, because the nine-year-old had to stop being a child.

the red wagon, rust-covered and missing a wheel, sits semi-forgotten in the corner of the porch. it has become a symbol of sadness, and this photo a bittersweet reminder of a life once lived. despite it's blemishes, someone deemed the wagon good enough to hold overflowing pots of fire red mums. someone decided that it was worthy enough to be placed next to the orange roundness of new pumpkins. someone decided that it still had life and was worthy of beauty.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old has realized that she is not much different than the wagon, full of rust and missing parts. nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old has realized that even though she isn't deserving, she has been offered a grace that covers the rust in a new layer of beautiful red paint. she realizes that there is a power in the death of one man, and that in that death, she was given an incredibly beautiful life. a life worthy of fire red mums and perfectly shaped pumpkins.

when i took this picture, it didn't occur to me that there was no logical reason that the mums should still be fire red beneath the snow. there was no great explanation for why the pumpkins had yet to rot in the winter air. both retained their color, their life despite the frigid temperatures and precipitation that beat down upon them.

there is this really cool thing about following jesus called life that comes through walking in the gospel of grace. it's a life that can survive the pounding snow and ice. it's a life that manifests itself in the beauty of smiles and kind eyes. a life that prevails when death is present.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old is realizing that this life has made her beautiful. she's seeing that without this man named jesus she may not have survived being a nine-year-old. she's understanding that being a nine-year-old with a wagon not used as a toy has paved a life of truly relating, to knowing the souls, of those less known. nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old only hopes that this life given to her brings life to others in moments when they are covered in snow and pulling a heavy wagon up the hill.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old wouldn't trade one moment for another.

"for it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of god-not by works, so that no one can boast. for we are god's handiwork, created in christ jesus to do good works, which god prepared in advance for us to do." ephesians 2: 8-10

tucking the covers around the broken-hearted children

a mother is supposed to be a safe place. her arms are supposed to be protective; nuturing. her voice and words soothing in times filled with fear; her presence bringing confidence in times of doubt. every mother fails at some point, at multiple points even, but there is the mother that chooses not to feed or clothe her child. the mother whose hand becomes something that makes a child flinch. the mother whose words are the cause of fear and doubt. becoming a mother is one of the things i most look forward to in this life. honestly, it is the restoration, the redeeming, of the concept of mother to the neglected "little ones" that makes my heart beat wildly.

as i approach the day that officially makes me a year older, i find myself in the midst of a lot of contemplation of life; where i've been; where i thought i would be; where i might be headed. year after year i ask "when, lord?" the answer is often silence to be followed or surrounded by instances the prove he's not saying "no", but rather "not yet."

about a month ago i started asking the question again, and the silence prevailed. initially discouragement began to find it's way into my heart, but then i made an unexpected new friend. i don't know all of his stories, but i know enough to know that he probably quite desperately needed the concept of mother redeemed as a child. his stories are not mine to tell, but i can say that i stand amazed at what he has come through and how it is evident that god was protecting him in every moment, even when the adults in his life were not. every now and then he tells a little story from his past, usually to make a point about the power of the gospel in our lives. the stories are often short, but in the few minutes it takes to tell them, i feel the urgent need to be a source of hope and love.

i love to sing; especially when i am alone and can sing from that place deep within that holds secret desires and tears and words yet to come. in the brief moments my sister graciously lets me have with my nephew before his bedtime, he often asks me to sing to him. there's something about singing a lullaby to a child that feels protective, soothing, loving, hopeful.

last week, i spent a five hour car ride listening to the same album over and over. it was an album new to me, and immediately i was drawn in by a desire to know the words and the melodies. last night, after hearing another of my new friend's childhood stories, i was sorting through the mixture of sadness, marvel at god's goodness and grace, and a little frustration when one of the songs from this album came over my speakers.

the artist is singing from the perspective of god to us (i think), but it really feels like something a mother might sing to a young child as she tenderly tucks the quilt under the child's chin. i'm pretty certain that my new friend, much like the kids i will one day bring into my home, did not have a mother that sang this kind of life and hope over him. yet somehow he became a man truly seeking to be like jesus. what we forget, what i forget, is that god is really the one singing life over these children. god sang life over my new friend as a child, even though my new friend didn't hear, couldn't hear.

he's singing over the child right now that is being neglected by the mother in his life; as she is being lost in a system defined by numbers; as he is trading bicycles for jackets and eating food off the ground out of fear it will be his only nourishment for the day. i am honored that god has seen me fit enough to place the desire in my heart to bring life back to these children. someday i will get to sing his song over them too, as i tuck the covers around the broken-hearted little one.

here's the song on youtube. ignore the video. just listen to the words.
jj heller. keep you safe.

so i didn't do it in fifty days....

but i'm not a complete failure. here's the next installment of "fifty people." more to come soon!