the lie you've all been waiting for

kids, it is never good to tell a lie.  (imagine that in a ted mosby voice.  okay, okay, i admit, i've been watching too much of "how i met your mother".)  seriously though, lies, more often than not end in hurt, mistrust, and trouble.  but today, i'm not talking about those kind of lies.  i'm talking about the one lie that actually ended with one of the best things that ever happened to me. 

i've mentioned this lie before: here.  it was not my lie, but my friend nate's, er...uh...i mean cybertron (nate's has always wanted to have a robotic pseudo name to "protect the identity of the innocent".)

anyway back to the lie....

it was a year ago today. i was photographer extraordinaire in the kids area at our church for two services.  during a lull in my photo taking, i found myself hanging out in the boardroom with several of the musicians; three of them noteworthy:  alex (who was fairly distracted. he ended up proposing to his girlfriend later that evening. happy one year of your engagement alex and megan!), steve (some random guy that i never really paid attention to), and nate/cybertron (my friend who i talked to and hung out with regularly).  this was just an innocent time wasting session of no significance, but it was how the evening started nonetheless.

it was the very end of the evening that is of note. i was in conversation with a church intern when random guy steve, on his way out of the building, did the awkward hand in the middle of the back rub goodbye.  what made it awkward was that we were not friends; we weren't really even friendly.  and when one person does the awkward touch thing when two people of the opposite sex aren't even friendly, the other's mind starts to wonder. and what does one do when the mind starts to wonder?  of course, revert back to the ways of junior high and ask friends to give you the scoop.  and so, i called upon nate/cybertron.

my intentions really were to find out if steve was indeed exhibiting an interest in me, and if he were, to figure out how to squelch it as i did not reciprocate.  nate/cybertron answered my questions in what i believe to be an honest way: but little did i know, he was feeding steve total lies. 

"she thinks you're cute."  "you should ask her out."  and other assorted statements that i never even alluded to saying let alone actually said. 

did i think he was cute?  no.
did i want him to ask me out?  absolutely not. 
do i now want to spend the rest of my life with him?
i couldn't imagine spending it with anyone else. 

but i how i got there is whole other story.  and it starts with a phone call, involves a couple of people, a walk in the park, a movie, and of all things, ends (or begins) with another phone call.  

stay tuned.....

"cybertron" (hey just trying to protect the innocent)

nearly finished

1 paper, 1 presentation, 1 class session, 1 week. after two plus years, it's hard to believe that i am down to my final days of my graduate program. as most students find themselves doing, i have put much of my life on hold in order to write papers, have scheduled intellectual conversations, and pretend to read way more than one can read in a matter of seven days. in anticipation of my impending freedom, i've been making a list of what i am hoping to accomplish in the next couple of months. just for fun, i'll share :)

• take up regular blogging once again (yes, uncle vern dean, i'm going to try to provide you with some entertainment).
• play my guitar more than once a month and work to improve
• finish the dragon tattoo series and read more books of my choosing
• ride my bike (i know, i know...just in time for winter)
  
• spend more time with friends (two specifically)
• get back into my workout routine
• spend more time intentionally listening to jesus
• cooking! and meal planning and enjoy grocery shopping again
• shake the dust off of my camera and shoot again
• who knows what other fun surprises may come along...
  

what i did today

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.

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.

never in a million years

another exciting milestone occured this weekend. not only did i break my all time high of 72 by 43 points, but i won the game! the game just after this brought me a score of 90 and a second place finish. talk about an on night! i'm listed as "a town" in the picture below. no, i didn't come up with this. i was with a group of people from my new church and considering i'm still the new girl, i just went along with it.

another first

first of all, let it go on the record that i blog to you today from the comfort of my front porch!

i had another first today. i went to court. not for me, but to attempt to seek some justice on behalf of a child, or rather, three children. i can't write about the case, but i can tell you that court was a very interesting place to be.

i arrived to find the sterile waiting room fairly empty, and made my way to a chair by the wall. thirty minutes later, i looked up from my book to find the room buzzing with lawyers, social workers, children, and parents of all sorts --biological, foster, etc. it was easy to put the book aside and just watch the happenings of the room. that is what i did, for the next three hours. not too long into my people watching, i figured out that there is a magical and powerful clipboard that hangs on the door to the court room. once your case name gets written on the that board, you know that you will get to enter the clipboard once the big bailiff guy calls your name. he called a lot of names, but never the one i waited for. why? because our name had yet to make it on the board. my supervisor came and briefed me on what would happen once we were inside. all i needed to remember was to say "no, your honor." i was pretty nervous about remembering the "your honor" part. two hours into this adventure our name finally made it to the clipboard, but it was dead last.

many of the people that had occupied the waiting area had been in and out of the court and were out frolicking in the beautiful afternoon. (well, maybe not frolicking. they did just leave court.) so i settled back into my chair with my book. the social worker on my case joined me and somewhat interruptedly began telling me useless stories. i gave her my book to read.

after three hours of sitting, the big bailiff guy called our case. i followed my supervisor into the room and kept saying to myself "no, your honor. no, your honor. no, your honor." we were all introduced and the three attorney's got to say their piece. i sat quietly and listened taking in the new pieces of information. i was listening intently until i realize there was a rather quiet, but yet distracting noise coming from the back corner of the room. not wanting to do anything that might get me arrested, i made a slow small move to get a glance at mr guy bailiff guy, asleep and snoring at his desk, in court! stuffing the giggles inside i turned my focus back to the person speaking and reminded myself of the words i would speak.

the "no, your honor" came out just fine, and we exited the room within fifteen minutes of entering. yes, three hours of waiting for fifteen minutes, a "no, your honor", and a snoring bailiff guy.

however, i must say that my court report was actually mentioned by the juvenile officer, and an attorney stopped me afterward and told me it was a great report. it's good to know the report is really worth something!

yet another "first" to cross off my list....as if court was on my list of things to experience....

finally finished

i finally finished my grad school essay...one month after i started it. i know, i'm going to have to get a little faster at writing these things when i actually start classes. since it took me a month, i thought i'd make it worth the time and post it on here in addition to submitting it.

"What motivated you to become an educator and how do you think your participation in Webster's MAT program will help you to accomplish your personal and professional goals?"

I cannot remember what initially motivated me to become a teacher. The desire has just always been there, like a childhood memory. Saturdays in elementary school were often spent playing “teacher and student” in my friend’s basement. In high school, I was a “cadet teacher” which meant I spent a lot of time grading papers and designing bulletin boards. I loved the mark of a red pen, the crinkling of fresh butcher paper, and the bit of extra attention from the teacher. During those same years, I had a conversation with an elementary teacher about the overwhelming numbers of students that needed individual academic help. As a result of this conversation, I started a program that paired high school students with elementary students in an academic after school program. Working with the students in this program opened my eyes to the idea that becoming a teacher was about more than red check marks and pretty bulletin boards. It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized its true depth.

It was the summer of 2000 and I had just finished my first year of college. I found myself in the heart of one of the most dangerous cities in the nation attempting to provide some relief in a local school and writing curriculum for a summer program. I entered the school to find an atrocity; too many students in one classroom, third graders that couldn’t write their own names, and very limited resources for teachers. These teachers didn’t have access to a copy machine and many were forced to provide supplies for their students. Stresses like these often led to apathy among the staff and situations where teachers would take to calling their students inappropriate names. I stood outside one day after one such incident, tears gushing, and vowed to become the teacher that would make a positive impact on students. I would not be apathetic, but contagiously passionate. I would empower my students to think, to explore, and to become lifelong learners.

Almost ten years later, I’m living in that dangerous city in the middle of a neighborhood that often evokes raised eyebrows. Living here has stirred up a passion within me for children from poverty, abusive homes, and neglectful parents. Teaching these children is not enough. I want to have a home with beds and clothes for them. I want to leave little surprises in their lunches every day. I desire to be the one that finds solutions for the third grader who can’t read because his school and biological parents have failed him. I want to be a justice seeker, a family, and a source of love.

A degree from Webster University will allow me to professionally serve the students in opening doors to the love of learning, specifically in the science field. Engaging this career that I love on a deeper level will enable me to open my home to children who will need it. I realize that what I would gain at Webster University would not only change my life, but be the beginning of life change in many children’s lives. I seek to include Webster University in this great adventure.

the reason why i sometimes find it appropriate to use mild explicatives in the same sentence as the word squirrel

i finally met the neighbors today. you know, the ones across the street that i see coming and going quite often. yhis was not a Bree Vandekamp welcome to the neighborhood. there were no muffins involved; not even one piece of fruit. even my smile was unreturned, but at least she sort of shook my hand. she told me her name and gestured at her husband who was loading something into their car. then she pointed out their house (as if I didn't know which house it was) and proceeded to explain that they were held-up, at gunpoint, in their garage on friday.

"we're just trying to let everyone know," she said in a somewhat shell-shocked tone.

the semi-mothering side of me kicked in with "are you okay" and "do you need anything", but she just continued to say, "we just want people to know."

i'm not oblivious to the kind of neighborhood that i've chosen to live in. Iive seen a drug deal go down on the corner. i wonder if this couple knew or if they were deceived by the beauty of it's tree-lined streets. i am both saddened and scared, mostly with them. but what has haunted me since the conversation this afternoon: it took a horrible situation for neighbors to finally meet. when neighbors can't be neighbors or choose not to be neighbors: that's when evil sneaks into the garage.

like a stab to the heart...

when "pick" really means "choose"

I have never been pumpkin picking. My roommate, her sister, and I made the trek out to a semi-local farm that advertises "pick your own pumpkin" in order to partake in one of their family's traditions: pumpkin carving. As we drove down the field-lined highway, the excitement swelled in me; probably from the small town side of my soul. Thanks to the jedi-light-sabered-air traffic controlling-men, we found a parking spot with hitting any small children or oversized pumpkins that were being carted around the parking lot. We found our way to the giant stack of giant pumpkins...yes both the pumpkins and the stack were giant (sorry no photos)...and then to the pumpkins that were much easier to carry to the car. My companions immediately started walking up and down the aisles, looking for pumpkins with the perfect shape and the right stem. I tried to focus on the hints and tips they were giving me, but the country girl in me wanted to walk out into the field and pick a pumpkin, which the farm had advertised that you could do. It didn't take much convincing to get the ladies to saunter to the field with me; all the while envisioning myself pulling a pumpkin off the vine. Imagine my dismay when, at the field's edge, the pumpkins were already picked. More than at the field's edge, they were picked in the field's center and all the way to where the field faded into dirt. This farm did not mean that you pick, as in take directly from the vine. They meant that you could walk out into the field and pick, as in choose, your pumpkin. So I bought into the methods of my friends. I scrutinized the size and shape and stem. Instead of the from the field, my pumpkin came from the $9 row just beneath the giant tower of giant pumpkins

girls on the run 5k

Molly and I nearing the end - 35.07 was our time!

Katy and Rebekah

After the race, freezing and hungry, but we made it!

finding myself after years of wandering

author's note post-blog: I have never blogged in a way that reveals such detailed depth into my soul. this is a long, personal, reflective piece. something I would normally only write in a journal. as I have invited you into this post, I invite you to continue in prayer with me over the matters of which I have written....

I've spent months gearing up; weeks saying " at this time in three weeks, I'll be in...(the appropriate CA location)" This trip to California has been a long-awaited dream; even the work portion an escape from the reality of the busy-ness that left me in pieces this past year. The vacation clock is now winding down, and in between fun explorations, I find myself whispering, "Next week at this time, I will be pushing through financial reports, making conference plans, writing PE lessons, etc., etc., etc." It sounds sad, and while it may be a bit sad that I have to leave the vacation stage of life, I'm welcoming the return. But I return looking at my life from a different perspective.

Up until a few years ago, I had always had this plan...I had a passion...I had a goal...and I was going to make a difference, dang it! God had other plans and in the midst of those, I found myself feeling like one of those stereotypical twenty-somethings with no direction and no spoken purpose. Ashamed to speak to people about my so called job...or myriad of jobs, I pulled back from places where I would have to explain myself. Much like Habbakuk reflecting on God carrying Israel, I find God all over those few years of my life, and I can see how I've grown in tremendous ways. One thing that continues to nag at me is where my passion really lies. In the process of losing and refinding myself, I somehow started to believe that my passions had to be found completely in my giftings; and that if I wasn't doing something I was passionate about, then I must not actually really have that at-the-core-have-to-do-something-to-fix-the-ache-passion. Without passion, I feel, not useless, but purposeless...and without purpose life becomes this mundane, although very hectic, thing that I do. Like I'm existing, not living.

I DON'T WANT TO JUST EXIST! As I boarded that plane two weeks ago, I asked God to show me specifically where that desire is within me...to guide me toward what tugs at my heart. Not what I'm good at....not what I CAN be good at, but what Papa has placed within me.

Instead of soul-searching; instead of turning to myself in desperation for the answers, I found my answers in the streets of Oakland where God reminded me of the injustice that once broke my heart and spurred me to think beyond my own bubble. I found more answers sitting in the White House in Fresno as Randy described moving into a life away from his degree and praying that the Lord would use it someday. Many years later, God not only used it, but aligned it perfectly with the path Randy was on. God knew...God knows...I just need to keeping asking and waiting patiently. (Side Note: Although Randy and I have really only known each other about a year, this is not the first time God has spoken to me through him..it's fun to see these things play out.)

Justice. Prayer. Patience. "Less general, more specific, Lord?" God responded by showing me this couple, who with open hands, left everything behind, and moved to California to care for the "orphan" only to have their reality stripped and rebuilt by God in a matter of days. I've been around people who foster and adopt and "adopt" neighborhood kids as their own for several years. It's not new to me, and it certainly is something I've been interested in for many years now. Somehow while playing Sorry with a six year old boy caught in the midst of the foster care system, I realized what really breaks the chords of my heart. Maybe it was the way he referred to his foster mom as "mom" and talked about her favorite color. Maybe it was the poem, framed and hanging in plan sight, that his 11 year old brother had written her for mother's day. Maybe it was his super cute little brother who would stumble backwards and fall to the ground in an attempt to play dead. These boys and the stories of my little friends back home break my heart and bring me great joy all in one.

"God, what will you do with this?"

Couple these things with a conversation and a new friendship that has been forcing me to think out of my normal thought pattern. Unexpected questions that have made me question myself in areas I was already questioning myself, but looking at them through the lenses of an outsider. "Why do I love the city?" Diversity? Amenities? Seeing God at work in something so broken? Witnessing visible justice? Yet, I find my greatest connection to God in nature. Why wouldn't I want to put myself in the place where I am most consistently and obviously in His presence? Because I love the city....I can do what God has called me to here...this is what He called me to...this IS what he called me to...this is what He called me to? What DID He call me to? And what did I call MYSELF to? (ouch)

The answer: He did call me to St. Louis, but I buried God's agenda underneath of my own. I came to heal when in reality, I needed healing. God knew.

The quest for passion: my heart breaks for the child that comes from extreme brokenness; from extreme poverty; from families that either don't care or don't have the means to take care of them. I burned out very quickly when I first moved to St. Louis because A) I was trying to do it all of my own accord and B) it wasn't taking the form that God wants it to take. The burnout disguised itself as lack of passion.

The reality: These children are everywhere...I can go anywhere..I can be rural...I can be urban...I can even be (wince ever so slightly) suburban?

God is giving me pictures...a passion reignited?

The quest for purpose: I'm not in a place at this moment where I can see God directly using this passion, but I hear Him reminding me that I am where He wants me to be for now. And in this place, I have purpose. In Him, I have purpose. It is not driven by passion, but by love and trust.

As if all of this wasn't enough, God met me one more time. Two days ago, my good friend and her husband left me alone in their condo while they visited a close relative recovering from surgery. After they left, I rummaged through my backpack, emerged with a stack of receipts, and set out to finish a major portion of a financial report for work. As I sorted the receipts into shorter stacks, my eye caught the guitar in the corner of the room. The thick dust it's voice just begging to be touched. I approached it as a child sneaking to the cookie jar. Within minutes, it was sitting with it in my lap, the computer blaring guitar for beginners next to us, and my fingers fumbling for Am7, Em7, and Bm7.

Yet another passion reignited? There is music within me that more than longs to come out.

I still have four days and one more stop on this westward journey. These reflections have come early, but really they feel four years in the making. Now, I pray and wait. Pray and wait.

Lord, what will you have with what you have shown?

can you guess what I did for 15 hours today?

This is Mickey's phone found on Mickey's desk in Mickey's house in Toontown. Incidentally, 5677 is also the last four digits of my parent's phone number, the number I grew up with....

yes...i'm STILL in california...

The posts have been few since the boogie boarding as I've mostly just continued to boogie board and love the beach. Ma and Pa Rohde got a baby-sitter one evening and I "took" them to one of the most beautiful places I have ever been (it was my only request for my stop on the Central Coast), Montana de Oro.

The last time I was there, a friend and I sat with our feet dangling over the cliff and arms resting on the fence who has the precarious job of keeping the curious from falling into the ocean. The sun, low on the horizon, swirled its pinks and purples around the sky and danced them on the ocean like a thousand little fairies. The incoming tide sent waves crashing high against the rocky shoreline at the foot of the cliff. Beautiful and menacing all at once. The whales in the distance perfected the picture as we sat in awe of the creation before us.

The sunset wasn't quite the same. The whales were replaced by otters and lizards, but Montana de Oro once again shown in the beauty of the sunset. It held it's place in my heart as one of the most awe-some places I have ever been.

look what I did today!!

I'm the top one with the boogie board.















Above: That's me! Ridin' a wave!!

Below: Instructor Jaron and me after an afternoon of waves.

Chillin' with the Rohdes

Back in the college days, I had this friend named Joel. One weekend, Joel took me to his family's home in the metropolis of Wilton, IA. I had heard stories of this lively family, but even those couldn't have prepared me for what I was to enter into. Mark and Lisa, whom I occasionally affectionately refer to as Ma and Pa Rohde, greeted me with open arms, offered to do my laundry, and fed me extravagantly all weekend. In addition to Ma and Pa and Joel, there was Jake (a humorous, baseball-loving, high school senior), Jaron (a pig-collecting freshman), and Jase (honestly, your typical 8th grade boy that sat in the back of a van and poked me incessently). All of the boys were active in many sports which warranted the "Don't mind the nut cups, we use them as candy dishes around here" comment Lisa made within the first five minutes I was in her house. Within days I discovered this quirky family loves Jeopardy, Mario Kart, baseball, and trampolines. That weekend was only a small taste of their hospitality. Two years later, they converted their backyard into a campsite for about 20 college students!

That weekend forged a realtionship much unexpected. I've gotten to hang out around through weddings and babies and transitions. Seven years later, Mark and Lisa live in California where God has called them as advocates and caregivers for foster children. Joel married his college sweetheart, incidently so did Jake. Jaron is a committed marine, and Jase is still a somewhat annoying, but highly loveable college coed.

I can't imagine a trip to California that didn't include a trip to their house, and just as I thought, Ma Rohde has fed me extravagently, offered to do my laundry, and ordered me to relax. It's always great to spend time with family on the other side of the "world."

the fresno leg of the journey

Both yesterday and today have been spent with the folk of Frenso Institute for Urban Leadership (www.fiful.org). Fiful is the parent "organization" for all of IV's urban stuff going on in Fresno...the summer internship, the week long plunges, the weekend dips, and the 10 month Pink House (as well as a few other things). Fresno has the highest number of concentrated poverty in the nation, and ya know what? God is at work here! There is no way of denying it. I've not yet seen an inner city so full of non-profits, churches, and relocators that are committed to their neighbors. Committed to revitalization. Committed to the shalom of the city.

My stop here in Fresno has mostly been about listening and learning. I have a lot more processing to do which means I'm not really in a great state to write.

I will say, however, that I can't believe how much humidity really effects the way weather feels. It's been in the mid to upper 90s here (same as St. Louis). We've done a fair amount of walking, and I've yet to actually sweat. In St. Louis, I would be drenched! And they have these really cool things called "swamp coolers." Apparently they put humidity into the air and help cool down the house/building. They don't work in humid environment hence the reason I had never heard of them.

That's the short update for tonight. More to come as I process and travel on...

from 77 to 100 degrees in 3 hours

Today was mostly uneventful. I went to church with Josh and Margie. They go to a small church located in their community in Oakland. I wouldn't say that their actual church service spoke to me, but their sense of community and they way they live it out is very attractive. Throughout my stay in Oakland, Josh and Margie would refer to community meals, invite people from the community to do various things, and even had housemates. There is just a genuine sense in the air that they need each other, and is evident in their actions.

After church, I said goodbye to the Harpers and to Oakland and headed out toward the mountains in my little rental. As I drove through them and on to the other side, I watched the thermometer in the car climb from 77 to 100 degrees, all the while wishing it were just a dream.

The dry grass transformed the mountains into sand dunes to these midwestern eyes. And I marveled at the long roads lined by tall palm trees.

I arrived at the White house in Fresno, a house and people that I had read about in books. To walk in the front door, to sit at the dinner table, to simply be felt as though I had stepped into the book; as if I were a character on the fringes.

I'm excited to see what I will learn here, to get a brief glimpse at the amazing way the Lord is working in Fresno, and to sit at the feet of a very wise couple for a short time.

if you're going to san francisco...

I awoke to the sun in my eyes this morning, like a small child standing at your bedside begging for attention. It took me a moment to remember where I was…oh yeah, in West Oakland in a house owned by World Impact with another of the IV teams. I had arrived the night before and spent some time learning about what their project site is all about before delving into a riveting game of Outburst Junior. Although this team was not as eager to share or ask questions, I did learn that they spend their days with kids and participate in many of the community events and happenings that World Impact sponsors; one of those being a community breakfast which I attended this morning.

When we arrived at the World Impact building, we were greeted enthusiastically by Hendrick. The stories of this man, shared the night before, had left me thinking of him as a bit insane, in a non-threatening way of course. Meeting him in person did nothing to dispel those thoughts. When he spotted the IV team coming up the sidewalk, Hendrick threw open the door and then his arms, spouting off rapid little hellos as each intern passed through. Without saying anything, he grabbed my hand and did a version of a secret handshake as if I were to know it. It wasn’t until another moment in the morning that we actually exchanged words, the gist of them being “Oakland needs me.”

We worked our way out back to the patio/playground where about 20 people, many homeless, were waiting to be let in the gate. Hendrick unlocked it, greeted everyone, said a prayer, and stepped back as they did a half run half walk to get to the line. Hendrick remained at the gate, attempting to greet them as they flew by in eagerness for the meal. I was not able to stay long, but just long enough to find out that Hendrick had started cooking the breakfast at midnight, and that one of the volunteers had come to Berkley for graduate school from West Frankfort, Illinois, a small town outside of St. Louis.

I saw San Francisco today. Josh and I started at Twin Peaks, the highest point in the city. The view from the top was an essential introduction to the city as you could see from ocean to bay. After driving the streets, we stopped at The Painted Lady houses, a television icon for my generation. Golden Gate park shined as the home of the botanical gardens, two art museums, a Chihuly exhibit, and a plethora of tall palm trees. The path through the park led us to the ocean—one of only a handful of times I’ve seen the clear water. We fought the hordes of tourists, cyclists, and joggers at the Golden Gate Bridge to find ourselves at the center of the rusty red structure discussing people who commit suicide in its arms. God redeemed that conversation by showing us a dolphin, a rare sighting in the area. The last leg of our journey was through the Haight-Ashbury District and down Lombard: the Crookedest Street in the World.

Josh left me at Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 where I discovered WWII vessels including a submarine and a ship built by women, clam chowder, sea lions, and the bushman. I hopped over to Ghiradelli Square, and then walked to Chinatown and Union Square. After exploring the 4-story Old Navy, I rode the bart (UNDER THE BAY!!!) back to my 24 hour home in West Oakland.

The team I am bunking with had gathered around the table for dinner. Though I wasn’t hungry, the opportunity to sit and for fresh water was most welcome. We discussed our days and chocolate before the team members scattered. I was not a quick to move and soon found myself at the table with the two team leaders processing some of the heavier team dynamic issues that are often brought up during the last weeks of an urban project.

I am ending the day completely exhausted, yet satisfied on a mattress at Josh and Margie’s house in the heart of Oakland.

Tomorrow it’s on to Fresno.