Michigan!

"Four of spades."

"Five."
"Six."
"Seven is dead."
"Jack of hearts."
"Queen."
"King. And Michigan!"

And that was my introduction to Michigan Rummy, which is apparently a Davies family tradition (who knew?!). They play it every Christmas Day night at Aunt Susie's house when the family gathers for their annual Christmas celebration.

This year Mom, Dad, Tim and I drove out to spend Christmas with Grandma. After a leisurely Christmas morning and afternoon, we headed over to Aunt Susie and Uncle Wayne's for Christmas dinner with "the cousins" (this includes all my dad's cousins on my grandma's side and their kids). As soon as everyone was finished eating, the rumblings started....

"Where are the folding chairs?"
"Who has the matches?"
"Is it still twenty matches for a penny?"
"Who else wants to play?"

Well-- I said-- I don't know how to play, but if you'll teach me, I'm in!

And they said "Sure."

And so, Tim and I learned how to play Michigan Rummy.

Now we are official members of the family. :)

Every seven months....

Well, I've been in Brooklyn for seven months now. So you know what that means.... it's time to move again! I hate packing as much as the next guy, but I am pretty excited about this move. Remember that apartment that we were so in love with but fell through? Well, I got an email earlier this week from the guy renting it out, and he said that the people who were supposed to take it went with a different apartment! So if we want it, he said, it's ours!

We want it!!!

So now we are in the midst of frantically filling out paperwork, looking for necessary documentation (Sorry what? You're supposed to keep your tax forms??? Who knew?!), and finding people to take our spots in our current apartment.

Which, really, is the reason for this post. Please pray that God will bring just the right people and work out the details of this whole move in just the right way. I told our third roommate tonight that we are moving out, and obviously it is a lot to take in. Please pray that God will bring her good roommates-- and soon. We are aiming for a January 15 move date, so it doesn't give much time!

I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed, but I'm also excited. I think God has gifted both Gretchen and me in the area of showing hospitality, and we are eager to have space to do so! And, this new apartment will be only about twenty blocks away from where Ellen lives now and where she and Steve will live when they get married in April!

Also, this means even more flexibility for having guests come stay. So start making your plans!!!!

(Thanks for praying!!)

SanTea Claus

Yes, I own a Mrs. Claus apron. What can I say, I used to be a teacher. And it was the perfect "prop" for those class Christmas parties.

And now that I work at a tea shop, I figured it was a good excuse to whip it out again.

I wore it once just after Thanksgiving, but I wasn't prepared for the reaction I got-- which was, shockingly, no reaction at all. Do they think I think this is normal attire? and I got self-conscious and put it back in my closet.

But now it's Christmas week, so I took it out again. The reactions this time around were much, much better. Today the reactions went like this--

"Oh my gosh! Look at you! You're adorable!"

"It's Santa!!!"

"Thanks for our tea, Santa!"

"Where does one get an outfit like this? Other than the North Pole, obviously..."

"Oh! Oh! That's just wonderful!"

And then my personal favorite of the day....

"Look, kids! It's San-TEA Claus!"

(I'm pretty sure that guy was a math teacher, judging from his sense of humor.)

Christmas Party Fail

It had such potential to be a good story. Gretchen and I bought tickets to go to the Transitions Christmas Party at the DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) Loft space. (Transitions is the group for the 19-29 year-olds at Brooklyn Tabernacle). So we got all dolled up tonight and headed that direction.

Just as we were about to cross the street to the Loft, Gretchen slipped on ice and tore her brand new tights. And her knee (not as new as the tights, but slightly more valuable).

"At least it'll make a good story for your blog!" she quipped-- always a good sport.

Let's just say that was the highlight of our evening.

FAIL.

Stop the Rollercoaster; I wanna get off.

My mom used to tell me that if I didn't get so excited about things, maybe my life wouldn't feel like such a roller-coaster. Such highs. Such lows.

I used to counter her argument by telling her I didn't want to be a pessimist, that it was a good thing to expect a lot out of life.

But I've been suspecting lately that maybe she knew what she was talking about. If only I could find the balance of expecting great things and yet holding them loosely; hoping but not being crushed when things go differently than what I'd envisioned.

If only.

A different kind of tired

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Quite possibly my favorite Bible passage. I read it before heading out the door this morning. I bundled up, fought through the crowds for my spot on the subway, read my book while steadying myself against the spastic movements of the train, and then braced myself to face the cold air on my walk to work on the other end (I am still very thankful for my sleeping bag coat). As I walked the few blocks to the office (yes, I was working my grown-up job today), I just felt overwhelmed. Sad. Tired.

No reason, really. I am honestly in a much better place than I've been for a while. I am enjoying my life; I see God's hand on me in so many ways. But still I struggle to be joyful; I struggle to be content with how my life looks-- oh, so differently than I would have planned for myself. And I am so, so tired of struggling.

These verses came back to mind--

He does not faint nor grow weary. I'm glad of that, because I am faint and weary.
His understanding is unsearchable. Yes Lord, your ways are not my ways. But your ways are good.
He gives power to the faint. I am fighting to hope, and I am growing faint. I need your power.
To him who has no might he increases strength. I have nothing to offer; I need your strength.
Even youths shall faint; young men shall be exhausted. Yep, 29-year-old women, too!
But they who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. God, I need your strength.
They shall mount up with wings like eagles. Really? When I feel like I can barely walk? You promise that I will soar like the eagles?
They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint. In your strength I can press on. You can give me strength-- not just for daily life-- but for the daily struggles as well, both internal and external.

I'm physically tired, yes. I'm fighting a headcold, too, which really doesn't help things. But I'm also a different kind of tired... I am tired of fighting for hope and fighting for joy and fighting against the fear that I'll never really attain them.

But I will run this race, and I will not grow weary. I will walk this path and I will not grow faint. Not because I have it all figured out, but because I don't. Because I know that my strength for the challenges doesn't come from me; it comes from God-- and I will wait on him and trust him to give me the strength I don't have by myself.

Santa's getting crabby...

I wrote a letter to Santa the other day. (I copied my family on it, just in case they were curious.)

I got this reply....

Dear Ms. Davies,

Thank you for your interest in the North Pole branch of Christmas Enterprises, Inc. We regret to inform you that due to global overpopulation and current economic pressures, we are no longer able to accept requests from applicants over twenty years of age. We truly wish that we could respond to all the letters we receive but present circumstances preclude this. We wish you success in finding other means of fulfilling your dreams. (Perhaps try the Easter Bunny?)

Wishing you a joyous holiday season.
Sincerely,
S. Claus

dictated but not read
/td

Does anyone else think it's suspicious that Santa's secretary has the same initials as my older brother?

Death of an umbrella

I used to laugh at people when their umbrellas blew inside out. They usually try to fix it, realize they're getting even wetter because they're standing still instead of moving towards shelter, and then throw it disgustedly in the next trash can they pass.

Yep, I used to laugh at those people.

Until I became one of them. Then it wasn't so funny anymore.

Maybe I'll ask for a windproof umbrella for Christmas....

Ferdinand has a baby brother!

When Melissa and I were roommates, we got a tree in our bedroom. We slept with that tree lit up every night. And it was magical. So I got a tree in my room again last year. This year my Brooklyn bedroom is maybe a quarter the size of my Philly bedroom (that's a generous guess), so there's not really floor space for a tree.

This has made me very, very sad. I've been trying to figure out a solution, but fortunately my friend Mark helped me out.

Behold: the smallest tree you ever did see.

You can kind of see the family resemblance to Ferdinand. But Ferdinand definitely got all the height.

The Secret Handshake

"You know you're training a new girl tomorrow, right?" Gretchen asked me last night.
Yup, Dottie posted the training schedule.
"Her name's Lauren; she seems really nice."
Yeah, I met her; she seemed really sweet.
"In fact, I kind of think she might be a Christian...."
Really?? What makes you think so?
"Well, she went to the same college as one of my friends, and I think it's a Christian school. And I'm pretty sure on her resume when she applied it said something about a Christian high school."
Oh man, that'd be awesome! I'll do some investigating tomorrow and see what I can find out!!

I had it all figured out. I was going to ask where she went to college and then see where I could take the conversation from there. But things went a little differently than I'd planned....

"So do you work here full-time?" Lauren asked me while I was showing her around the barista station.
Sort of... I work here four days a week (which is technically full-time), but I also have another part-time job.
"Oh really? What's your other job?"
I work with inner city kids.
"You do?! That's so cool! Where is it?
It's a Christian mentoring program in Midtown...
"It's not.... I mean, it's far-fetched.... But it's not Kids With A Promise, is it?"
(My jaw dropped open.)
You've heard of it?!?!?!
"Oh my gosh! Yeah! I've been emailing with Carlos to see about being a mentor!"
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?! How did you even know about it?
"I was visiting a church, and they mentioned it! I used to be part of a mentoring program in Atlanta, and I miss it."

Needless to say, we had lots to talk about. From mentoring programs to church hunting in New York City to working at Alice's. Oh yeah, and talking about how to make tea.... we did some of that too, I promise.

My friend Gelucc always used to say she felt like talking about church was a "secret handshake" between Christians. If you put it out there that you go to church, chances are that the other person will jump on it if they, too, are a Christian. I told Lauren that today-- told her about my mission to find out if she was a Christian, and told her how excited I was to find out that she "knew the secret handshake."

I'm excited to have another Christian on staff at Alice's. I'm excited that God sent me another little reminder that he's actively at work. And I'm excited to see what he's up to and what good things he's got planned-- for me, for Lauren, for Alice's.

The Glories of the Sleeping Bag Coat

I love winter. I love the excuse to snuggle under blankets, to drink hot chocolate, to play in the snow, to go snowboarding, to wear argyle sweaters.... the list goes on.

So yeah, I love winter. But I hate being cold. And that's not a winning combination. This past Saturday I went over to Steve's and ended up staying an extra two hours because I couldn't bring myself to go out in the cold again when I was just finally starting to thaw out!

That does it. I am not going to survive this winter with just this wool coat.

So I went coat shopping. And I made the Best Purchase of the Year.

I call it a "sleeping bag coat" because I think it's the adult equivalent to those fleece sleeping-bag things in strollers that you see all around the city. I can't crawl into one of those, so I will do the next best thing: I will wear a long down coat that keeps me just as warm! The best feature is this great collar that zips up really high. So on super cold days (like yesterday and today), you pull your hat down a little and the collar up a little, and the only thing exposed to the cold is your eyes. Genius!

Sure, I won't win any fashion awards. But I'm excited to enjoy winter from the warmth of my sleeping bag coat!

Ferdinand, the Christmas Tree

I have resisted the urge to post pictures on this blog, but I can't paint a word picture that would do justice to the newest roommate at our Brooklyn Digs.

Meet Ferdinand, who just got himself all dressed up for Christmas.

What is it about Christmas trees that just makes a house (or apartment, as the case may be) feel like a home?

Isn't he beautiful?

Settling In

They lit the tree by Lincoln Center this past Monday. That night was also Winter's Eve, apparently the largest holiday festival in New York City. They set up all these little booths along Broadway, from Columbus Circle to Lincoln Center where local restaurants sold their specialties for $1-$5 per item. You could get crabcakes for $3, pumpkin bisque for $1, Mexican hot chocolate for $2.... a wide variety of amazing goodies! There were decorations everywhere and live music along the way, and we stood shivering and listening to a great quintet singing Christmas and love songs.

But the best part of it? I went with a whole group of friends. First I met up with Hannah (one of my former students now at college in the city-- am I really that old?!) and one of her friends, then Teddy from Alice's and then Gretchen and Sue (also from Alice's). A couple minutes later Steve showed up, then Lorelei and then Andy. An hour later we ran into Brian and Laura. And then Ellen got off work and met up with us. We stood on the sidewalk talking as the stands started closing down, and all I could think was I have friends in New York!!

It's a wonderful feeling.

:)

Redeemed to be a servant

In a way that I've never experienced before, I'm feeling stressed out by Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I love shopping for presents, love the crowds that come with that, love all the parties and the crazy schedule, love the music playing everywhere. No, I'm not stressed out by the traditionally "stressful" aspects of Christmas at all.

So what's going on?

I want everyone to love Christmas as much as I do. Or at least to like that I like it as much as I do. But they don't. And I, the hopeless people-pleaser, hate that I am unintentionally stressing out the people around me. I don't care if other people buy me presents; I don't care if I get Christmas cards from everyone I know. I don't want people to come to my Christmas party because they feel obligated; and I don't care if other people don't want to get their own Christmas trees. I mean, I might judge them a little for that, but that's beside the point. Kidding.

I know that I get caught up in the externals of it-- I can be like the pre-conversion Grinch who thought that Christmas would only come with ribbons, tags, packages, boxes, and bags. I love the romantic feel of this holiday season; I love the lights and the music and everything about it. But why? I keep asking myself. Why do you care so much about Christmas?

I decided to do my own sort of Advent devotional series this year. I'm reading New Testament Christmas passages in the morning and Old Testament Christmas prophecies in the evenings. I've only been doing it for a couple days now, but I'd encourage everyone to try it. Did you know that Christmas has been part of God's plan all along? I think I forget that. Not the presents and trees part, but the coming-of-Jesus part. The whole reason we use this season to show others we love them: we love because he first loved us. And he loved us so much that he sent his Son. To a manger in Bethlehem. And that is what we celebrate.

Anyway.... that was a rather long-winded introduction to what I really wanted to blog about today. Since I'm early on in this Advent devotional series, I just read Luke 1. Zechariah's prophecy has been one of my favorite passages for a while now-- I feel like it's a condensed systematic theology based on Christmas, and that's a pretty great thing! Here's the part I've been meditating on today:

"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us. . .
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
and to remember his holy covenant, . . .
to grant us that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days" (from Luke 1:68-75).

I have been redeemed. But not without reason. I have been delivered so that I might serve God. And not serve him because I'm afraid of him-- serve him because I'm thankful for all that he has done for me.

So this is what I've been thinking about: if I truly serve God without fear, what does that look like in my daily life? If I believe and act like my life is not my own, how different would things look? God redeemed me to serve him, but that also looks like serving other people. Serving isn't always glamorous. Sometimes it means doing the dishes or cleaning the bathroom when you don't want to (and let's be honest, does anyone ever really want to?? I sure don't....). For me at Alice's, it means doing my sidework cheerfully and helping others whenever and however I can. Because I love these people, yes; but even more-so because that's why God redeemed me. He didn't just save me so I could be selfish and do whatever I want; he has claimed my life and my energy and my time.

Serve him without fear. Well now, that shoots my whole "cosmic killjoy" thing right out of the water, doesn't it? I have nothing to be afraid of, because my God is good. And it's not scary to serve him, because he loves me. He is a God of mercy who keeps his promises, and he has promised good things to his children.

It kind of changes the whole Christmas scene. I mean, I still love walking around New York with my iPod listening to "Silver Bells" and other Christmas songs. But today I was walking around looking at the lights and the Christmas decorations and thinking Jesus was born so he could die and I could be redeemed. Redeemed to be a servant! A servant who has nothing to fear, and everything to gain.

And that's worth celebrating!

O, Christmas Tree

How much are those trees? -- I asked the man, as I pointed to a short little Christmas tree on the sidewalk a few blocks from our apartment.
"The short ones are $25. They go up to $50," he said, as he pointed first to a 2 foot tree, then to a 3 foot tree.
Oh. Um. How much are the bigger ones? Maybe for some reason the short ones are more popular in New York because space is limited? Maybe the tall ones won't be crazy expensive??
"These are $180."
Wrong yet again.
Um.... what about the slightly shorter ones?
"They start at $90 and go to $180."
Okay, thanks. I'll have to think about it.
Think about it?? As in, do I have any other options?! I sure hope so!!

So when the guy at the stand near work (on the Upper West Side) told me that their 4-foot trees started at $30 and the most expensive ones were $90, I was thrilled. A group of us met up to enjoy Winter's Eve, one of the largest holiday festivals in New York City (it was awesome, by the way). When we parted, Gretchen and I headed back to that corner store to pick out a tree.

And yes, that meant we had to lug it home on the subway.

People smiled at us as they saw us carrying the 7-foot tree down the stairs and then standing with it on the subway platform.
"It's Christmas! Smells good!" said one woman as we waited for our train to come.
We worked the tree into the subway car and tried not to be in the way-- kind of hard to do with a 7-foot tree that's not wrapped very tightly. But people were gracious, and even entertained. Two guys got on the subway, took one look at us, and just started laughing.
"Where did you get that?"
At a corner store on 73rd and Columbus! It's the cheapest one we've been able to find. You should go there!
"And you're taking it on the subway. Awesome."

A few stops later another guy got on, looked at us, and said "That's amazing."
What, I don't get what's so funny? -- I quipped with a straight face.
"The tree. It's just funny! It's great! It's hard to move big things in New York. I'm glad you're taking the subway. It's just great!"

I love Christmas. I love that everyone is a bit more relaxed, is a bit more willing to smile and chat. I love that people in New York understand it's important to have a Christmas tree, even if it means carrying it from the far end of Manhattan to Brooklyn to get one you can afford.

I can smell our tree from my room, the fresh Christmas scent wafting in from the living room.

And it makes me really happy.

'Twas the Night before the Night before Thanksgiving

.... and I couldn't sleep.

Because I'm that excited for the weekend. No lie.

:)

Homeward Bound?

"What are you up to for Thanksgiving?"

It's a common question, given that the holiday is now just days away. The conversation usually goes something like this...

I'm going to my 'rents.
"Oh that's fun. Where's home?"
If I could tell you that, I would be able to answer the question that's been haunting me for months now.
Um.... well, my parents live in Maryland....
"But that's not home?"
Well, they moved there a couple years ago. I grew up in Jersey.
"I didn't realize you live in Jersey. I thought you just moved here."
I don't; I did.... I live in Brooklyn; I just moved here in May from Philly.
"Oh, I'm confused."
Don't worry. I am too.

A couple weeks ago I was trading numbers with someone so we could find each other at an event the next day. I recognized his '856' area code immediately.
You're from South Jersey?!
"Yeah! How did you know?! Are you from South Jersey too??"
No, but I lived there for a while.
"Oh, is that where you moved from?"
Sort of.... I moved here from Philly.
"Ah, so you have a '215' area code?"
No.... I used to have a '201' area code, but I just got a '202' number when I got my new phone.
"But that's DC... Girl, you have a story for everything!"
Oh friend, you have no idea.

So tomorrow I'm going to get in the car with two friends from Alice's, and we're going to drive south to the 'rents. On Friday I'll probably pop up to Philly with my padre to check on the house and take care of getting my car inspected and hopefully have lunch with some of my basketball girls. On Sunday I'll drive back to New York with my brother.

Which day will I be "home"? I'm not really sure....

I like to think it's actually a blessing to have so many homes. I mean, some days it's overwhelming. Some days I just want to scream because I feel like I don't belong anywhere. But then again, there's something kind of cool about also sort of belonging everywhere. Maybe it's all in the way you look at it??

The Constant Battle

We found an apartment. An amazing apartment, no less. Yes, it's a sixth-floor walkup; but I think that might be the only negative. It's at 100th and Lexington, about twenty blocks from where Ellen lives and where she and Steve will be living after they get married in April. It's about four blocks from the subway (and a Starbucks). It has two decent-sized bedrooms (one is small, but it's workable) and a kitchen that actually has a little bit of counter. The coolest feature is the brick wall between the kitchen and living room-- it has a large cutout that makes the whole apartment feel spacious. Hardwood floors, nice bathroom, granite countertops, sunny and bright atmosphere. Even better, it's actually in our pricerange; and there's not even a broker's fee. And the couple that's moving out offered to leave their dining room table (which we would have needed to buy) and the air-conditioner units (which would be a necessity on that sixth floor during the summer).

Seriously, it's perfect.

And another couple wants it, too.

If God wants you to have this apartment, you will get it-- I have told myself repeatedly.
But what if he doesn't want me to have it?-- the cynical, in-fear-of-a-cosmic-killjoy side of me answers back.
Then he has something better.

And that's the constant battle. To believe that God has good things in store for me. To believe that he is able to do exceedingly and abundantly above all I could ask or imagine. To believe that he delights to give me good gifts. To believe that he is working all things together for my good, because I am called according to his purpose.

New York Real Estate: The Real Scoop

Things I've learned about New York Real Estate during my apartment search--

- closets are NOT a necessity. They are a luxury.

- if you can fit a bed AND a dresser in a room and still have space to walk, it counts as "spacious."

- if an ad says "Convertible 2-bedroom," it means one person can sleep in the living room and they'll charge you like it's a two-bedroom apartment.

- you can choose for your apartment to be spacious, safe, or affordable; but you cannot combine any of these options.

- you can knock off about $50/mo from your rent for every extra floor you walk up above the third floor. This means a 6th-floor walkup is the best bet-- not only will you save money on rent, but you also won't need to pay for a gym membership. Of course, you might melt in the summer when all the heat rises, but at least you don't have to think about that for another six months....

- "Elevator building" is actually a bad thing when you're looking in certain sections of Manhattan-- especially East Harlem, West Harlem, and Washington Heights. There are some people with whom you just never want to get stuck in an elevator. Many of those people live in those "elevator buildings"; and those elevators look suspiciously likely to break.

- when someone tells you a certain neighborhood isn't safe, listen to them. And never, never go check it out at night with the goal of seeing the real neighborhood. You don't want to see the real neighborhood. That was the point in the first place-- you should listen to people who know.

- if you didn't listen to the people who know and you're in that sketchy neighborhood and you are walking past abandoned building after abandoned building and are tempted to turn around, do so. "We're so close, we may as well see it while we're here" is a dumb thing to say. (I'm sorry, Gretchen. But at least we made it out okay, right?)

- you just can't think about what kind of housing you could get in Philly.... or anywhere else, really.... for what you're paying in the Big Apple. You will just get depressed.

Love them like Jesus

One of the ways I love people is that I feel very personally what they're feeling. I'm not sure yet if this is a strength or a weakness. I do know that it can feel very overwhelming at times. This week has been no exception, as people that I care so much about are going through really hard things. I want to fix their problems; I want to give them the right answers-- but I've got nothin'. I don't have the solutions, I can't fix them, I can't even make things hurt less. And boy, do I hate being out of control.

Quite randomly this morning, I chose to listen to Casting Crowns on my commute to work. When this song came on, it hit me hard:

Just love them like Jesus, carry them to Him
His yoke is easy, His burden is light
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves them and stay by their side
Love them like Jesus

I want so badly to have the perfect words to say. I want to give the right answers to all of life's questions. But I give myself too much credit. Nothing I can come up with will be the magic solution. The real thing I need to do is to show my friends who are hurting that Jesus loves them even more than I do-- and that even my love for them is because of Jesus' love for me. And that when I love them imperfectly, Jesus loves them perfectly.

It kind of takes a load off. I don't have to come up with anything. I just have to bring them to Jesus; he'll provide the answers they need.

The God of All Hope

I've been having a rough week so far, and it's only Tuesday.

I got a text from my mom yesterday telling me that Gramarie fell (again) and broke her (other) hip and her wrist. Last time she fell, I went down and was there for the surgery-- and was so glad I was. This time, that's where I want to be-- not on the receiving end of the text updates.

I miss my Philly friends, but I know I'm not supposed to be there right now. But boy, do I miss them.

We need to figure out where we're going to live, and none of the options are very promising. Safety, space, or location. You can choose one of those, but apparently not all. I was hoping to move by December 1. It's not looking likely.

I got a text from my friend who is coaching my old basketball team in Philly. Two of our girls aren't playing this year. Might not sound like a big deal, but it is. I'm worried about them, and I'm in New York-- not in Philly. I struggle with feeling guilty for abandoning them.

There's other stuff too, but it's not bloggable. That's probably the stuff that has been the hardest this week. I know that's not fair, sorry. Let your imagination run wild.

On my walk home tonight, I prayed Lord, I'm struggling; I'm having a really hard time. Please don't let me lose my hope.

And then this verse came to mind-- a verse that I painted on canvases in my kitchen back in Philly:

May the God of all HOPE
Fill you with PEACE
and JOY as you trust in Him.
(Romans 15:13)

Trust in Him. Trust that his plans are perfect, even if things are going a different direction than you would have chosen for yourself. Even when the details aren't adding up the way you thought they would.

God of all hope, please fill me with peace and joy and help me to trust in You.

Location, Location

Gretchen and I went apartment hunting today. I guess I'm naive, because I thought this was going to be really fun.

Wrong.

The first apartment I looked at was tiny. The second apartment was spacious and beautiful-- and in a really sketchy neighborhood. The third one was small-- we could choose to have a living room OR a second bedroom, but not both. Oh, and it was $200 more than our maximum. The fourth one was great-- and we got harassed walking to and from the apartment building. The fifth one got rented to someone else literally five minutes before we got there. And the sixth one... well, let's just say it was next to this huge abandoned building on a pretty abandoned street in a sketchy neighborhood in Brooklyn. And the only closet was a tiny linen closet in the hallway. So we'll start again tomorrow.

I don't think we're being that picky. Our third roommate now doesn't like it when we have people over-- and if you know me at all, you know that this is killing me softly. I itch to entertain. So does Gretchen. We just want a place that's big enough to have people over-- sushi-making parties, movie nights, for dinner, apple pie parties, sleepovers with out-of-town guests, Christmas parties. Yes, plural.

I really wrestle with where we should look. As single women that often get home late at night because of our jobs, I know we need to take safety into consideration. But I also know that God is just as in-control of my safety in East Harlem as he is here in Cobble Hill. When I heard Nicky Cruz speak at Brooklyn Tabernacle last Sunday, he told about his mentor David Wilkerson who came into a dangerous neighborhood where Nicky was a gang leader. The police told Wilkerson they wouldn't go with him, but he told them that was okay because God was going with him instead. I'd actually never heard of Nicky Cruz before that special service at BT (yes, sometimes I'm convinced I live under a rock...); but it's clear that he has committed his life to serving his new Master. And he is winning many souls for Christ-- and I bet he's glad that David Wilkerson didn't listen to the safety warnings about going into that neighborhood.

So how do you balance it? What is the right relationship between trusting God and being responsible? Part of me would love an apartment with nice granite countertops and hardwood floors and a doorman in the lobby (if I could afford all that!). But the stronger part of me wants to find the roughest neighborhood I can, with kids whose parents don't pay any attention to them and who just need to know that Jesus loves them so much-- and to live there and know them and tell them all about him.

I am wrestling with where God has me in life right now. So many questions. Not enough answers to go around.

I remember when I attended the church-planting assessment last year, the man in charge talked about God showing us footprints that we needed to place our heel in-- and it wasn't until our heel was planted that we could tell which direction our toes were pointing to know where the next step was.

I have planted my heel in New York City. I just still can't tell which direction my toes are pointing.

What's in a name?

"Miss! Miss!"
"She has a name. Use her name!"
"Miss?"

Uhoh, they're talking about me. And I turned around from my barista station to see Miguel (or "Miguelito," as they call him to distinguish him from the other two Miguels that work at Alice's) trying to get my attention to hand me something, while Sue (the baker) reprimanded him for not using my name.

"She has a name," Sue repeated. "It's Anne."
"Aahn?"
"No, Anne."
"Aahn."
"Anne."
My Spanish name is Ana-- I interrupted.
"Ahh.... Ana!" said Miguelito.
"Anita!" said Adolfo.
"Anita Bonita!" said Teo.

Miguelito doesn't call me "Miss" anymore; I think Sue would have his head. But now the guys greet me by name-- whatever version they prefer. I have to say, I wouldn't have thought it would make that much of a difference. But when Nelson walks in and says, "Hola, Ana!" and Adolfo says, "Anita, you make hot chocolate good yesterday?" and Teo says, "Anita Bonita, you here manana?" it makes me smile. I'm starting to love those kitchen guys, even though it makes me wish more than ever before that I'd paid attention in my Spanish classes.

No one in New York calls me "Pumpkin" yet, but I guess I haven't been here that long....

Immanuel-- why it matters

Every June I start to get excited about Christmas. And when I say "excited," I mean shivers-up-my-spine-can't-stop-smiling-excited. It's the most wonderful time of the year.

I love Christmas in the city. I love the lights. I love singing Christmas carols. I love all the excuses for parties and hanging out with friends and family and even strangers. I love Christmas music. I love shopping for Christmas presents. I even love the Salvation Army bell-ringers (and yes, they're out already!). I love watching A Muppet Christmas Carol with my dad every Christmas-- and quoting from it the rest of the year. I love throwing my annual Christmas party. I love Christmas decorations. I love Starbucks Christmas drinks. I love choosing, transporting, and decorating my Christmas tree(s). I love sitting around the fireplace with my family on Christmas morning. I love trying to think of the best possible gift for my brothers. I love the Christmas Eve service at Tenth. I love that almost everyone loves Christmas.

Believe it or not, I could keep going. But I'm guessing you get the idea by now. I seriously love Christmas.

But every once in a while I start to think about why I really love Christmas. Do I just love the sentimental feel to it? As a hopeless romantic, I know that's definitely a part of it. As a Christian, I know that the reason we celebrate Christmas is Christ's birth-- and that his incarnation is the whole reason I can even have a relationship with God. But to be perfectly honest, for a long time I couldn't quite wrap my mind around why a birth was worth that much celebration. Isn't it just kind of an excuse for lots of parties? I wondered.

Music is a strange thing. There's something about music and songs that can break through some of the biggest mental blocks I've ever had. This internal struggle about Christmas has been no exception. Last year at Tenth we did a weekly Christmas Advent concert series during lunch breaks leading up to Christmas. One of the musicians sang a song that sent chills down my spine (in a good way!) and brought tears to my eyes. He sang Michael Card's "Immanuel" --

Immanuel--
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel

For all those who live in the shadow of death
A glorious light has dawned
For all those who stumble in the darkness
Behold your light has come

Immanuel
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel

So what will be your answer?
Will you hear the call?
Of Him who did not spare His son
But gave him for us all
On earth there is no power
There is no depth or height
That could ever separate us
From the love of God in Christ

Immanuel
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel.

I think that's honestly the first time it really hit me. Christmas is when Jesus really became Immanuel-- really became God with us. And it didn't just end back then when people got to meet Jesus in the flesh. He is still with us. He is still with me. And if God is with me, who can stand against me? What do I have to be afraid of, because I am not alone anymore. I fear loneliness probably more than I fear anything else in the world (even mice, and that's saying a lot); but I am not alone and never will be. Because Jesus is Immanuel, and because of him God is with us.

We sang a Chris Tomlin song at Brooklyn Tab yesterday. I'd never heard it before, but it did the same thing to me that Gary's selection did last year. It's called "Our God," and the chorus goes like this:

Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other.
Our God is Healer, Awesome in Power, Our God! Our God!
And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us.
And if our God is with us, then what could stand against.
And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us.
And if our God is with us, then what could stand against.

My faith is ridiculously weak. I have the most powerful being in the whole universe on my side. And not only that, I have him living in me all the time. What do I have to be afraid of?

So, Christmas is coming. And I really honestly can't wait. I love so much about the season. But my new-found favorite thing-- and the thing I'm going to celebrate the most this year-- is that I'm not just celebrating something that happened 2000+ years ago and doesn't affect me anymore. 2000 years ago God became man and dwelt among us. And 2000 years after that miracle, I-- living here in Brooklyn-- still get to reap the benefits of that gift because God is still with me.

And if my God is for me, then who could ever stop me?
And if my God is with me, then what could stand against?

In every situation

"So, how are you praying about all the uncertainty you feel right now?" Melissa asked me while I was in Philly last weekend.
I guess just asking that God will make it clear what I'm supposed to do next...
"Have you thought about praying for contentment in where you are now?"
No.... I've just been thinking about the things I want to change in my life....

I've been thinking about Melissa's challenge a lot since I've been back in New York. What would it look like for me to accept things as they are and not think about all the things I wish were different? And then the verse kept coming to mind: "I have learned in every situation to be content... I have learned the secret..."

The secret?? I want to know, too! I want to be content-- is it really something I can learn?

So I got out my Bible and looked it up. I'm not sure why I never before realized that this whole passage went together, but here it is:

"...for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:11-13).

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. That's the secret-- the secret is that there isn't some magic formula for me to figure out and start doing, because I can never be content by my own power. I can't be content by myself. Yet that's what I've been striving after-- If I could just change X Y and Z, then I would be content.

So if I can't learn contentment on my own, how do I get there? That's the secret Paul shares; Christ is the one that will get me to that point. I can do all things-- I can be content-- through Christ, who gives me strength for that task. I think God calls us to things that sound like they should be really easy, but are actually really hard when you try to do it by yourself. Kind of humbling, isn't it, to realize that we can't even do something like "be happy" by ourselves? Think about the command that comes earlier in the chapter: Rejoice always. That sounds good to me; I would like to be happy and joyful and rejoicing all the time. But.... Do I still have to rejoice when things are hard and I don't feel like rejoicing?
Always.
But how? I can't make myself be happy.
You can do all things through him who strengthens you.

It's true, though-- I can't make myself be happy. I can't make myself be content. Not in my own strength, anyway. But that's the secret that Paul knew deeply and wants us to know in the same way: I-- you-- can do all things through him who gives me/you strength. Even something as wild and crazy as being content when things are going differently than I would have chosen for myself.

Still Fighting It

Everybody knows
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it...

By now I don't have to remind you that I am Ben Folds. I mean, it's either that or he just likes to write lyrics about my life. Which do you think is more likely? My point exactly.

That song played through my head nonstop when I went back to Philly this past weekend to celebrate Melissa's 30th birthday. From Friday to Sunday I got to see some of my favorite people in the world-- to talk and listen and laugh with many friends I haven't really seen all summer. In a lot of ways, it felt good to be home. On Sunday I walked down 17th Street. I saw Harold on the other side of the street and wondered if he'd recognize me; he's a neighbor that used to greet me every day. Sure enough, he lifted his head and gave me a nod and a wave. He probably does that to everyone, but it warmed my heart anyway. A few blocks further, I ran into the whole Olsen clan, coming back from the church plant potluck. The three oldest kids ran up and gave me hugs. I asked Angelina for a hug and she climbed into my arms to be held. She's started talking lots more since I left, and as soon as I was holding her, she started chattering about the moose that I'd given her when she turned one. They were walking down my street, so I walked half a block with them but had to say goodbye when we got to my house. I gave Angelina back to her mom and got more hugs from the other kids. It doesn't get any easier to say goodbye.

I love those Olsen kids. I love my Philly friends. And though it was fun, it was also so hard to see all of them this weekend because it meant having to say goodbye all over again. Because for some reason I can't explain, I know I need to be in New York right now.

Everybody knows It sucks to grow up
And everybody does It's so weird to be back here....

I did all this ridiculous stuff over the weekend. Probably dumb stuff but man, I had such a great time doing it. A pumpkin patch. Indian hiphop. Corn maze. Pumpkin drinks. Creating costumes. Spiking cider. Mulling wine. Stuff I love to do, and stuff I haven't done since I moved to New York.

I have four friends in New York, two of them are my brothers. It feels pretty different from Philly. I know it'll come with time. I know I need to be patient. And I know it's part of growing up. But it sucks to grow up. Ellen texted me when I got back to the city this weekend to ask me how Philly was.

Good. Weird. Fun. Hard. All in one fell swoop. -- was my reply.

And that's exactly what it was. Incredibly amazing and ridiculously hard, all at the same time. Because I want so badly to be there and know so clearly that I can't be right now. It doesn't make sense to me; that's just the way it is. I guess it's part of growing up? And everybody knows...
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it...

I'm still fighting it; I just don't want to grow up. I guess I thought when I grew up I'd be all settled down and be near my family and surrounded by my friends. I never thought my family would be spread along the eastern seaboard and my friends would be scattered around the world.

Ben Folds knows what he's talking about. That's all I have to say 'bout that!

Little Reminders

The man standing across from me on the subway was really intent on what he was reading, making me look a little closer. One Second After You.... was its title, and it looked like a little pamphlet. I did a double-take. It was a tract, and he was reading every word of it. He even flipped back to re-read a page and then closed the booklet and closed his eyes, his head in his hand. Lord, I prayed, meet him as he seeks you. Three men down from him, another man was reading the same tract. The man next to him was reading a book entitled Prayers. The guy with the tract nudged the man with the prayer book and asked him about it.

A young man started walking down the center aisle of the subway car. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began. Here we go.... I wonder what he's selling. But he continued. "I'm not selling anything." Ah, then he's a performer. "I'm not even going to sing a song for you." Wrong again. "I go by the name of Sacrifice, and I am here in the name and the service of the Lord Jesus Christ...."

I looked around to gauge the reaction of my fellow passengers. The men sitting across from me were still reading their books, but they both had little grins on their faces. I looked in the other direction and saw a woman reading the same tract. I saw a man intent on his reading and thought Wow, I wish I'd gotten myself a copy of this tract. Everyone seems to be liking it! But on closer examination, he wasn't reading the tract after all. He was reading his Bible.

What is going on in here?

It's really easy for me to feel alone in the big city sometimes. Maybe it's because I'm still not really plugged in to a church. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I have solid Christian community yet. Maybe it's because almost all the people I've gotten to be friends with since moving here want nothing to do with Christianity (yet). Really, I know it's a combination of all of these-- but the end result is that though my awareness of the spiritual battles going on around me has increased, I have also felt increasingly hopeless about those struggles.

I'm embarrassed to admit that, but it's true-- I have been losing my confidence in God's power to triumph over Satan.

Tonight was a rebuke to my weak faith. I sit with Christians on the subway. I walk past Christians on the street. And there are people who don't even know it yet, but soon they're going to be Christians too. Because God is that powerful. I sure am glad he does more than I can ask or imagine, because I've gotten pretty unimaginative lately.

Consider the Jigsaw Puzzle

Mandi stayed with Gramarie for a couple hours on Thursday so I could get out of the house and run some errands. When I got home, they were sitting at the kitchen table working on a jigsaw puzzle.

I hate jigsaw puzzles. I just don't understand the point to them. You sit there with 500 pieces (if you're lucky and it's not more than that!) of weird shapes and colors, and you have to try to make them fit together by staring at the cover to a box. When (if...) you finally get it, everyone smiles and then you take it all apart and put it back in the box for some poor sucker to try again later. And this is supposed to be fun?!?!? Clearly I'm missing something.

But Gramarie was enthralled and, as Mandi said, "It helps pass the time." So I sat down and started trying to fit pieces together. They hadn't finished the frame, so I started with that. How hard can this be, right? Ha! I struggled to find all the straight-edged pieces. Some looked like they had straight edges-- but no, wait, there's an imperceptible curve to it. Others looked like they were definitely pieces for the middle-- but no, wrong again; that tiny tiny piece of straight-ness fits right there in the frame. I just don't understand what is enjoyable about this.

Gramarie wasn't much more patient than I was. Every few minutes she'd hand me a random piece and say, "Oh, I used to be good at puzzles, but I can't do this anymore. Anne, where does this one go?" And when I told her I had no idea, she'd respond rather irritably, "But if you don't know where it goes, how do you expect to do the puzzle?!" My point exactly; this is why I hate puzzles! But everytime I'd suggest calling it quits, she'd say, "Oh, just a couple more minutes. I really do like puzzles."

And then we'd sit there in (relative) silence for a bit, concentrating on trying to get those stupid pieces to fit together. Cardboard is not worth this much frustration. But as time went on, I started to get better at it. I realized how important it is to look at the shading and the shaping; maybe it's not all so random after all? Pieces started to fit-- eventually. I finished the frame, and we started to get chunks of the picture. The scene is an idyllic one: a wood-shingled cottage surrounded by beautiful flowers, green grass, and blossoming trees.

What is this hatred I have of puzzles? I found myself wondering. And then almost immediately I felt my chest constrict as I realized, because this is exactly what my whole life feels like, and I'm really tired of trying to make all the pieces fit.

I've been thinking about the analogy a lot since then. It's almost bizarre how parallel my life really is to a jigsaw puzzle. But there's a lot to learn from the ol' jigsaw as well. Here are a few of the things I think God was teaching me even through the relatively short activity with Gramarie--
- You need all the pieces. Even the oddly shaped and the ugly ones. If you leave one of them out, it'll ruin the whole picture.
- Even the dark pieces become part of the beauty of the whole finished product.
- You can't tell right away how all the pieces fit together. You will make mistakes en route to the finished product. It's not bad; it's just how it is. Some pieces will fit easily and others will be trial-and-error.
- Even the bright, pretty pieces wouldn't look so pretty if it weren't for the dark ones to give them context and purpose.
- When you can't find the right piece, the easiest thing is to assume that piece is missing. But it's probably not; you probably just weren't looking in the right place and weren't patient enough.

But I think what kind of stuck with me the most-- probably because it irritated me the most-- was how much I am like Gramarie was about the random puzzle pieces. I hold up bits and pieces of my life and demand, "God, where does this one go?" I want to know how it fits; I want to know where it fits. It doesn't matter to me if there are other pieces that need to be filled in before that one piece makes any sense-- I want to know now. And when God tells me to be patient, I respond like Gramarie: "If I don't know where this piece goes, how do you expect me to do the puzzle?!"

I still hate jigsaw puzzles. Maybe it's because the jigsaw puzzle of my life is enough frustration for right now. But I'm glad for the reminder that each piece-- no matter how odd or dark or ugly-- is a necessary part of making the final picture.

What I hate most about Alzheimers

I'm Anne. My mother is still alive-- but my mother is Andrea, not Roseanne.
Mom and Dad are in Boston until Friday. Chuck and Andrea are my Mom and Dad.
I live in New York now.... Brooklyn. Yes, it still counts as New York.
Pop-pop's not outside; he passed away three months ago.
We are in Maryland right now, not Cape Cod.
My mother is Andrea. Her mother is you.
I'm your granddaughter, not your niece.
Lucy and Dakota are fine, I just fed them. No, you can't share your chili with them.
Mom and Dad-- Chuck and Andrea-- are "the owners of this house" that you keep asking about.
No, I'm not your niece. No, not your daughter either. No, I'm not trying to trick you.

I've gotten pretty good at answering questions repeatedly and at going over the family tree-- repeatedly. I'll admit it can get annoying sometimes. By the sixth time in ten minutes of explaining who I am and who my mother is, I start to wonder if there's any point to trying to answer the questions. She doesn't remember our conversations two minutes later. I know that by Sunday she'll have forgotten I was ever here.

She keeps asking me about my life-- she's especially concerned about my social (aka "love") life. She wants to know how I like New York and if I have friends there. And I want to tell her everything-- about what's been good and what's been hard. I want her advice, and I want her to tell me it's all going to be okay. But by the time I'm halfway through my answer to her question, she's forgotten what she asked me. And even if she does start to respond to what I've said, a couple words into it she's forgotten the advice she was going to give me-- and what we were talking about in the first place.

I expected this week to be hard. I knew my patience would be stretched and tested to its max. I knew I'd get tired of repeating myself. I knew she'd get upset with me when I took her hearing aids out at night. But I just didn't prepare myself for how hard it would be not being able to get through to Gramarie-- the Gramarie of years ago.

So I guess what I hate most about Alzheimers is that it's stolen my grandmother away from me ahead of schedule. She's still living, but she's not here. And I really miss her.

Things my grandma says....

As you probably remember, my grandma has Alzheimers. Which means she not only forgets what's going on, but she also has lost most (all?) of her filter. I've been staying with her for two days so far, and here are some of the comments thus far....

"I thought you used to be blonde. What happened? Have you ever thought about dying your hair?"

"Who's taller, you or me? Oh, you are.... Wow, don't you hate being tall?"

"It's nice to have you back in the family."
Me: Um.... where have I been?
"Oh you know-- it's just nice to have you involved again."

"Can't you find a good guy to hold onto? Oh, I guess they're probably all taken by now."

"Is that how you wear your hair? Don't you ever curl it? How long are you gonna let it grow, anyway?"

***
I'm sure I'll have more to add as the week progresses.....

Sneak Preview

My dad has an alumni event at MIT in Boston next weekend, so he asked if I want to stay with Gramarie so he and Mom can have a quick break at the Cape for a few days first. I was able to get someone to cover my shifts at Alice's, so I agreed.

I called their house yesterday, but Leisl (a friend who stays with Gramarie sometimes) answered the phone. When she heard it was me, Gramarie asked to talk to me.

"Anne! How are you?"
I'm doing well; how are you?
"I'm good. I miss you."
I miss you too! I'm coming to see you this weekend though!
"Oh really?? How long will you stay?"
All week!
"Oh, I'm glad. How are you, Anne? What's new with you?"
Well, I started a new job today...
"A new dog?"
No, a new JOB.
"Oh! A new job! Where is it?"
An organization called Kids with a Promise; it seems really cool!
"Where are you?"
New York.
"New York?!"
Yes, this is where I live now.
"Oh, I love New York! Where are you?"
Well, right now I'm at 31st and Madison.
"Oh, I love New York. Did you know that?"
I sure did!
"Well, not much to report here. I'm staying with..... hmm. I'm trying to remember who they are."
My parents.
"Who??"
My parents-- Chuck and Andrea!
"They're not my parents!"
I know! They're my parents.
"Oh, I don't know about that. Anyway. What's new with you?"
Other than my new job? Not much.
"You got a new job?? What kind of job?"
Working with inner city kids....
"Oh, and you like it?"
Today was my first day, but yes, I think I really will.
"When are you coming to visit me?"
This weekend, actually. I'm coming on Sunday!
"Oh, this Sunday?! Oh good! Can you stay for dinner?"
Yes, I'm staying all week!
"Oh good! I have this double bed that's so empty!"
Hahaha, we'll see what we can do about that.
"Are you doing well, Anne? How are you liking your job?"
I like it a lot....
"I miss you."
I know; I miss you too, Gramarie. I'm looking forward to spending the week with you. I love you.
"Oh, I love you too, Anne."

So that's just a preview of what my week will be like next week. I'll repeat myself a lot, but honestly I'm just looking forward to soaking up some time with Gramarie. I'm glad that even when she doesn't remember the details, she remembers that she loves me. We have a lot of history together, Gramarie and I. I'm looking forward to adding to that.

It promises to be an interesting week.

Baby Steps

Today I wore dress clothes and sat at a desk for the first time since... well, since my last day at Tenth this past May I guess. That's right; I have a grown-up job. Sort of, anyway.... it's part time, so I'll still be working at Alice's four days a week. But it's a step in the right direction! And the whole situation is actually pretty ideal and amazing. Let me explain....

When I first moved here back in the spring, Steve said to me, "You should talk to Heidi, the woman that runs the mentoring program I do. You could pick her brain about working with inner city kids, and she could telll you about various organizations in the city that you could check out." He asked her if she was willing to chat with me, and she said yes. So I went in and met with her and her co-worker Carlos, and they gave me a huge list of other organizations that I should contact and answered all sorts of questions. That was back in May.

Last week I got an email from Steve. It was actually a forward from Heidi asking if I'd found work yet. Steve said "I think it's just admin work, and it's only 10 hours a week; but maybe you want to contact her and get the details." I listened to his advice again (he has a knack for getting good jobs, and I will take his expertise wherever I can get it!) and emailed her back and we arranged a time to meet. When I got there, I found out that the position is actually helping to coordinate the program for their high schoolers! I set a bare minimum in my head that I had to make to be able to take the job (since it will mean one less day at Alice's per week) and just hoped and hoped that she'd mention that number when we talked about the finances of the position. Well, she offered me the job on the spot, but then looked pretty nervous and apologetic as she told me that they are only able to pay me.... twice the minimum I'd set in my head! It was all I could do from smiling and making it obvious that I was thrilled with her "low" offer. Oh wait. I couldn't keep from smiling and making my excitement obvious! Getting paid to do what I've been hoping to do even if it meant volunteering? Yeah, okay!

I'm glad it's only part-time. I'm glad that right now I don't have the option of working there all the time and burning myself out again. I'm happy that I can ease myself into working with inner city kids rather than jumping in full-force. I'm glad that I can keep working at Alice's for at least a while and yet still be pursuing what I want to do. I'm excited to work with Christians a couple days a week and still maintain my friendships with people who aren't Christians yet. I'm glad that I have an excuse to wear my dress clothes again and I'm excited that I don't have to wear them all the time. And I'm happy that even this part-time "office" job won't be completely behind the desk; several of my hours will be spent interacting with the kids and mentors. But even though I know I never again want a desk job, I'll admit it was pretty nice to sit down to work instead of running around all day. I think it'll be the perfect balance to have this office day smack in the middle of my workweek!

Release from Solitary Confinement

I'm flying to Portland tomorrow for my friend Nick's wedding. Up until today, I still couldn't really hear out of my left ear-- except for the constant ringing I had in it.

I'm a little nervous to fly with my ear clogged like it is.
"As you should be," said my brother Tim (the medical one of the family). "Your eardrum could rupture."
If you're trying to scare me, it's working.

So I sucked it up and went to the doctor at Duane Reade.

"So what brings you in today?"
I've been sick since Labor Day.
[big pause]
"You know that was a month ago, right?"
I don't have health insurance....
"Okay. So you've been sick for a month...."
Yeah, and I haven't been able to hear out of my left ear for over a week now.
"And you got tired of not being able to hear so you came in?"
Well, it's more that I'm flying on Thursday, and my brother said my eardrum could rupture. I think he was just trying to scare me, but it worked.
"Uh, yeah! Your brother is right! When people are well, the pressure can equalize. In your case, it wouldn't equalize, so it would probably rupture and then you'd have intense pain and lots of blood and there would be nothing you could do."
Well, when you put it like that....
So yeah, that's why I'm here.

He unclogged my ear [ = PAINFUL]. And then discovered the inner ear infection that "only little kids usually get." Brilliant. Turns out, I have really bad seasonal allergies-- is this just a New York thing? I don't think I had them before.... -- that turned into an infection and then just kept getting worse.

But I'm starting to be able to hear again.

It's pretty nice to be back.

My Caven

It's kind of a cave, but it's also my haven-- a getaway spot where I can go when I want to be alone but can't stand to be by myself-- surrounded by people but not anyone who knows me to talk to me. I'm sitting here now, sipping a pumpkin spice latte, looking at jobs for working with inner city kids, and listening to that kind of music that makes you simultaneously hopeful and sad about life.

Everyone else just left to go home. So much for being surrounded by people....

Cloudy

Cloudy.
[My head] is gray and white and cloudy...
Cloudy.
My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,
They have no borders, no boundaries.
They echo and they swell
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell.
Down from Berkeley to Carmel....

I've had a headcold since Labor Day weekend. Almost a month later and not only does it not show signs of getting better, it's actually daring to get worse. I'm pretty sure I have an ear infection-- if I have pain and the hearing comes and goes in one ear, that's a bad sign right?

I feel like I'm in a fog; I can tell people are talking around me-- sometimes I can tell that they're talking to me. But I usually can't hear what they're saying.

"You need to go to the doctor."

Yeah, but I don't have that kind of health insurance.

Maybe it's time to rethink this whole working-at-a-restaurant thing??

:(

Fall in a Cup

Today is the first day of Pumpkin Spice Latte season. Some people call it "autumn," but really the two names are interchangeable. The genius of the Pumpkin Spice Latte is that it manages to capture all the flavors of fall in beverage form.

There are rules about enjoying this amazing drink. You can't drink it until the first day of fall, or it just doesn't taste as good. It would be like... like... like drinking a Christmas drink before Thanksgiving. Some things just aren't okay.

So today was the first day that the Pumpkin Spice Latte was legal to drink. But I didn't have one. I know, gasp!!!! But I have a good reason, I promise. My brother Steve and my good friend Melissa share my deep conviction about waiting for the autumnal equinox before enjoying this seasonal treat. For the past several years, I've gotten to drink my first PSL of the season with one or the other of them. But this year.... well, I live in New York now; and Melissa's back in Philly. And Steve is away on business through the end of the week. Steve and I decided to wait until this weekend and have the first drink together. And then I got an idea! I texted Melissa (aka "Spice"-- no joke. Our nicknames are Pumpkin and Spice. No wonder we're such a good pair!) and asked if she wanted to come up for the day on Sunday and drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes with Steve and me. Thankfully, she is as crazy as I am and she's coming!

So I could legally have gotten a Pumpkin Spice Latte today, but it just wouldn't have been the same to drink it by myself. But I sure am excited for that first drink of fall this Sunday!

Filling in some gaps

I've taken a blogging hiatus, if you haven't noticed. It's another case of "too much going on in my mind to get anything out on paper (or a computer screen, as the case may be)." I talked about this condition with another friend who's a blogger, and we agreed that there's a distinct danger that if you write what you're actually thinking about, you'll lose all your faithful followers. So instead I suppose I could just write vague entries--

Day 1:

Deep breath.

Day 2:

Smile. Even if you don't feel like it. Maybe the happiness will follow.

Day 3:

Sigh.

Day 4:

Ugh.

Day 5:

Wake me up when September ends. (Thanks, Greenday-- you always did have a way with words!)

Day 6:

The smiling didn't work.

Day 7:

Oh to be a kid again when your biggest problem was that your brother got more ice cream than you did.

Yep, I think that covers the last week.

I wonder what my life would look like if I truly believed that God delights to give me good things, and that this is an unchanging and irrefutable truth-- if I believed that each and every single thing that happened to me was not somehow in spite of God's goodness and sovereignty but because of it. If I believed that the bumps in my road of life were part of his gifts to me, would I hate them so much? Losing people I love, troubles with friends, loneliness, financial stresses, general life confusion-- I don't want these problems in my life. I don't want to feel like I don't belong anywhere, like I have no purpose anywhere.

But if I truly believed that God was giving me each of these trials because he loves me, would I deal with them better? I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. And I'm pretty sure I don't believe it deeply enough, because write now I'm just overwhelmed. I'd tell you more about it, but like I said, I don't want to lose my blog following.

Water, water, everywhere

One of the things I learned from being an English major is that symbolism runs through literature so much that you rarely get it all on the first read. One of the things I'm learning as a Christian is that symbolism runs through the Bible so much that you never get it all on the first read.

I've already shared a bit about Isaiah 43 and how the promises in those verses have encouraged me. But this morning I was reading Psalm 77 as I drank my coffee, and the verses took on new meaning in light of the Isaiah passage...

God promises in Isaiah, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you." And it made me see the waters as symbolic of troubles and trials and stresses that threaten to overwhelm.

So when I got to this part in Psalm 77, "water" took on a different meaning:
"When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled.
. . .
Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters, yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock..." (v. 16, 19-20).

Sometimes-- often-- God's way is through the sea of struggling and his path is through the great waters of hard things. Sometimes his footsteps are unseen, but he's still in control-- he's not subject to the great waters; they are afraid and tremble in his presence. So the rivers of uncertainty and doubt will not-- cannot-- overwhelm me. Because I am one of his precious sheep, and he will lead me to safety.

Plot Spoilers

I'm currently reading a book series (The Hunger Games) that my friend Adam lent me. I think they were meant for teenagers, but I can't put them down. It's that type of book where each chapter ends with a cliffhanger that just forces you to turn the page and keep reading-- regardless of how tired you already are or of how early you need to be up the next morning.

I don't do well with suspense. It's a good thing Adam is only giving me one book at a time, or I think I'd just have to peek to see if the heroine survives-- and to see who she ends up marrying. I've gotten to the point where I'll turn to the last page in a chapter and have to cover the last paragraph with my hand. If I don't, I know I'll peek!

I want to know how my story ends too. I never did do well with suspense....

Sidewalk Sofa

On our way home from dinner the other night, we walked past a beautiful leather couch on the sidewalk.

Do you think it's free?! -- was my initial exclamation when we saw it.
"I'm sure it's not; who gives away a leather couch that nice?" said Gretchen.
You want me to ask? I will! (There were people standing right by the couch and the other discarded personal belongings.)
"If you're brave enough, go for it."

So I did. Only to find out that the other people were trash-pickers also. It was all up for grabs!! So Gretchen, Christine, and I handed Debbie our purses and began carrying the couch down the street.

"It's not gonna fit up our staircase...."
Oh yes it will! Where there's a will, there's a way!
"What about the plates??" (For those of you who haven't been to our place, there are literally about 300 china plates that "adorn" the staircase.)
We'll just be extra careful... we can make this work! It's such a great couch! And it's free!!

So we flipped it on its side and carried it-- VERY carefully-- up the stairs. Nancy (Gretchen's mom) helped us lift it, while Debbie stood behind us and shouted out warnings of how close we were to breaking the plates. We got it to the top of the first flight of stairs.... and got stuck.

"You're not gonna make it. You're gonna break plates," said Debbie.
But we're so close!!
"It's not gonna fit. You've gotta put it back outside."

More pushing, more lifting. Really? We're really going to have to give up? I was lifting from the bottom of the couch; Gretchen and Christine were at the top trying to pull it over the banister. I braced myself for the increased load as we admitted defeat and began to take it back downstairs.

Okay, I'm ready-- just let it down slowly so it doesn't crush me!-- I told them.

But instead of getting heavier, it suddenly got lighter! What was this?? They had gotten it over the railing! We were in the clear! And we hadn't broken any plates!! The second stairway didn't have plates on it, so we cleared that one much more easily and eased the new couch into our front living room.

It is gorgeous. Black leather, and it looks brand new. We sprayed it with Lysol, took the cushions apart and inspected for bugs-- and it all looks great.

But I have to say that pretty much without fail, every single person I've told about this "amazing find" has said, "I sure hope you didn't take it into your house-- the only reason anyone would get rid of a nice leather sofa would be if it has bedbugs in it."

Way to take the wind out of my sails, and I tell them not to be such pessimists. But all of these exchanges have made me wonder if I'm really cut out to be a New Yorker, after all? Maybe I'm just a little too naive and optimistic...

But in the meantime, I am enjoying the beautiful black leather sofa that sits in our front living room.

This is the song that never ends

I have a couple postcards hanging on the wall next to my mirror; each one has a verse or a quote on it that I can read as I blowdry my hair in the morning. One of them has a chunk of Isaiah 43 on it (emphasis added by me)--

¹ But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

² When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not overwhelm you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

³ For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I give Egypt for your ransom,
Cush and Seba in your stead.

⁴ Since you are precious and honored in my sight,
and because I love you,
I will give men in exchange for you,
and people in exchange for your life.

⁵ Do not be afraid, for I am with you....

I read this as I blowdryed my hair the other morning. Almost instantly, parts from "How Firm a Foundation" began to play in my head (turns out, the hymn is based on Isaiah 43, but I'd never realized that...):

"Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with thee thy troubles to bless
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress....

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose
I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I'll never, no never, no never, forsake!"

One of the beautiful things about music is that it helps you remember the words-- you know how when you were in school and had to memorize a list of things, one of the tricks was to set the list to music? Well, the same thing works with Scripture verses; set them to music, and they'll keep playing through your head.

Sometimes it's really annoying to get a song stuck in your head. But this week, I've just been really glad that this is the song I have stuck in mine-- "Fear not, I am with you; oh, be not dismayed!"

For I am precious in his sight. I am honored in his sight. He will be with me, and I will not be overwhelmed. I am redeemed. He has called me by name, and I am his. I am loved by God.

And that song doesn't end. It will never end because God never changes, and he has loved me from the beginning of time. I have no reason to be afraid of tomorrow-- or of today-- for he is with me, and that's never going to change.

Gospel Pedicure

I got two pedicures for my birthday. One I got in the form of a gift certificate (thanks Ellen!!); the other I got in the form of a sermon. Weird, right? Let me explain...

Pastor Simbala at Brooklyn Tabernacle this past Sunday preached from Romans 10:10-15. He called it "Gospel Rewind." The passage, in case you're not familiar with it, goes like this:

For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. As the Scripture says, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame. "For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

He talked about simple the gospel is: IF people believe in Jesus, THEN they will be saved. They don't have to be Baptists or Catholics or sprinkled or dunked or do a certain number of good works. All we need to do to be saved is to believe in Jesus Christ. It's simple, really. But the passage keeps going.... How can people believe if they don't KNOW? And how can they know if they haven't HEARD? And how can they hear if they haven't been TOLD? And how can they be told unless WE are SENT?

I like to think I love people. I care a lot about my family, my friends, my co-workers, even my acquaintances. But this sermon challenged me all over again if I really love people. Do I love them enough to tell them about Jesus? Do I love them enough to be thought a fool or a crazy Christian for the sake of sharing the gospel with them? Is bringing the good news always the ultimate goal of my interactions? Not because I want them to be like me or to think I'm something special-- but because I love them enough to want them to spend eternity in heaven. I can't take anything with me when I die-- not success, not money, not possessions-- but I can see the people I love in heaven. That should be enough motivation right there!

I want to have beautiful feet. With all the walking I do in the city, I'm not sure I can ever get enough spa pedicures to make that possible. But here I have the secret to the kind of beautiful feet that really matters: bringing the good news to others!

My Golden Birthday

29 on the 29th. I always love birthdays, but I've been especially excited about this one because it's the Golden Birthday, and I only get one of those! And if the day is a foreshadowing of the year, I'm really looking forward to this, my Golden Year.

To be honest, I was a little nervous about this birthday even though I was excited too. Last year I had my HouseBirthWarmingDay party, with more than 75 people coming through my new house, wishing me well and celebrating my 28th birthday with me. This year, I'm in a new city where I only know a handful of people. Is this going to be the loneliest day ever? Gretchen had planned a small party for me in the evening, but the rest of my day was wide open. She was in a wedding in Indiana this weekend, so she wasn't going to get home until the late afternoon (yes, she really did throw me a party a whopping thirty minutes after walking in the door after a crazy wedding weekend. True friendship? I think so too). I'd planned to hang out with Steve and Ellen in the morning, but then it turned out this was his only day to move into his new apartment. One of my friends was going to come up from Philly last night and spend all of today with me, but she had a family emergency and wasn't able to come.

Okay, God. I'm beginning to understand that this day is going to be more about you and me. Help me to rework my expectations and to embrace whatever else you have planned for my day.

So I got up and went to the 9am service at Brooklyn Tabernacle. At the risk of sounding cheesy, the whole service felt like a birthday present from God. As we sang about God's love, how deep and high and wide it is, I was just overwhelmed to think how much God loves me. And that he loves me better than I can love myself-- another reminder to trust his plan for my life instead of my own. I'll have to write a whole different entry about what I learned from the sermon, but suffice it to say, it was exactly what I needed to hear as he challenged us to live in the light of eternity and not to be distracted by what Satan wants us to think is important. We finished out with the song about God being mighty to save-- another needed reminder that Jesus has conquered the grave and nothing is impossible for him.

I'd gotten a "free birthday drink" coupon in the mail from Starbucks, so after church I cashed it in and took my iced soy chai latte (my favorite drink that I only get on very special occasions) to a park a couple blocks from my house. One of my best friends had given me a card and gift that said "Do not open until your birthday"-- and on the other side it said "Sorry.... not til Sunday" (she knows me too well!). So I took it with me to the park and sat on a bench in the sun and opened the gift and read the card, then took out my journal and wrote a bit.

After a little while, I headed back home and did some leisurely prep for the party. I was a little nervous about the guest list-- several different groups of people who didn't know each other. Is this going to be disastrous? But it wasn't; not at all. I sat there with friends who have known me my whole life (okay, just one has known me my whole life, and that's my older brother; but Steve and Josh have known me for pretty long too) and friends who I just met when I started working at Alice's in June. I had close friends from Philly and new friends who are getting to be close friends here in New York. And I just felt blessed.

I really was nervous it was going to be a lonely day. But it wasn't at all-- far from it, in fact. Even in my "alone hours," I had constant reminders from God and from others (texts and emails and phone calls-- oh, and who can forget the Facebook wall posts?!) that many people are walking alongside me and loving me, even from afar.

I want to write something about how much I appreciate all of my friends and my family, but everything I start to type sounds cheesy. Yep, I just tried to expound on that, and it sounded cheesy too. So please accept it at face value-- friends and family, I love you, appreciate you, and am thankful to God for putting you in my life.

So like I said, with all of you beside me, I'm pretty excited about this next year!

Too many books....

My grandparents used to swear our house was going to collapse because my parents had so many books. Turns out, some problems are hereditary. I was an English major by choice, a bibliophile by birth. The end result? Way. Too. Many. Books.

I went to Philly yesterday to get some of my stuff while I still have my car. My plan was to grab a few books, a few clothes, and just a couple other odds and ends. I guess I'm an optimist, because it never once occurred to me that I'd run out of space in my car. Oh, but I did!! I went to the liquor store to grab some boxes, and the woman told me I could have five.

Oh lady, you have not seen my book collection. But I took the five and headed back to my house. Thankfully, I found several other boxes in the living room closet and in the basement that I could use (and yes, in my search for boxes I did also find more boxes of books that I'd never even unpacked yet....). I easily filled all of those empty boxes and the five new ones, but I still had shelves full of books. Sheepishly, I headed back to the liquor store.

Do you think I could possibly, um, have a few more boxes?
"Like how many?"
Three??
"Yeah, that's fine. You should take that big one on the bottom over there."
Sweet, thanks! You know how once you start packing, you realize how much stuff you actually have?
"I sure do-- that's why I just moved for the last time for a loooooong time."
Yeah, that's what I said this time last year when I was unpacking.

As I packed box after box and then carried box after bin after box to the basement and to my car, I couldn't help remembering unpacking them all exactly a year ago: The good news is, I don't have to move again for a very long time!-- I had said. Famous. Last. Words.

It hit me hard while I was driving back home to New York. Home. To New York. Away from Philly, the place that was supposed to be home. I feel like a failure. When I left in May, there was a chance I was coming back at the end of the summer. This time is for real; it's official that my attempt to "settle down" didn't work.

My parents stopped in New York today to see all of us kids and to celebrate my birthday as a family. I called Tim last night to talk about the details. After we talked for a few minutes,
"Are you sick? Or crying? Or tired?"
Um.....
"What's wrong?"
Today was just hard. I can't believe I'm leaving Philly. It's not that I want to stay-- it's that I'm upset that I don't want to stay. I feel like a failure and I'm exhausted and I'm drained and I have to carry all this stuff up three flights of stairs and it's late and I have to work in the morning.....
"How far are you from home?"
About an hour-- I'll probably get there around 10.
"Do you want me to come help you unload?"

I told him not to come-- told him that I would be okay doing it by myself, I was just drained and feeling overwhelmed. As I was unloading, Steve called me: "Are you going to be okay unloading by yourself? I can be there in a half hour." I told him the same thing I'd told Tim-- that I really appreciated his offer but that I would be okay (and that I'd save the books in the trunk for when they come over for my birthday).

So I have all these books that I carry from place to place to place. I'm not sure where or if they'll ever find a permanent home. But in the meantime, I'm glad that I have brothers who are willing to help me carry them around. I mean, I can carry them by myself; I proved that yesterday-- but there sure is something amazing about knowing there are people who are willing to help you carry your burdens or your books, whatever the case may be.