Slumber Party Love Advice

One of my friends from Alice's did a cabaret show tonight. It was called "PJs and Pixy Stix," and Nick invited us to participate in a musical slumber party of sorts as he alternated singing his heart out with entertaining us with various stories and musings.

At one point he pulled a stool up to the microphone and announced that he was going to give us some love advice-- "Dr. Nick's Love Advice" he called it, and he began....

"Sometimes you meet someone special and you give them your heart. And sometimes that special someone says, 'Thank you' and they take your heart and they keep it safe and guard it carefully.

"But sometimes they take your heart and they say 'Whoops!' as it falls to the ground and shatters in a million pieces. But they don't stop there. They look at the pieces laying there on the ground, find the shiniest one, and take it with them.

"You fight to put those pieces back together. And someday, someone else comes along and helps you. You pull out the Elmer's glue and the tape, and they help you piece your heart back together. And now this time, your heart is that much stronger because it has all that Elmer's glue holding it together. But as you put the fragments back in place, this new someone notices something isn't right. 'You're missing a piece,' they tell you, and then they hand you a piece of themselves to make your heart whole again."

Really, it's a beautiful image of how life-- and love-- goes. And it's a beautiful reminder that beauty can still come out of messes.

So keep pressing on if you're one of the many who's fighting to pick up the pieces. The Elmer's glue is just going to make you (us) stronger in the end. And that new piece-- well, it might just make your heart even more beautiful than it was in the first place.

(Don't worry; I struggle to believe that, too. But I think "Dr. Nick" might be on to something....)

Baby Aydenn

I know a lot of kids, but this one had me wrapped around his pudgy little fingers even before I met him. Maybe it's because I was excited to meet him the second his dad (who I work with at Alice's) told me that he and his wife were expecting.

I had the privilege of doing his baby photos; it was the first time I'd met him, but it was like we knew each other already.

And check it out; he loves Abbey (my faithful teddy bear) as much as I do.

Someone's Nicest Someone

You know when you see someone scowling and you think they're upset? Or better yet, what about those times when you are the one scowling and someone else sees you and thinks you're upset. And you're not actually upset, but you're just not thinking about not scowling. So there those people go, making assumptions about you-- maybe that you had a bad day, maybe that you're a frowning, grumpy person. And really, all that's going on is that you're just not thinking that you should be thinking about not frowning.

That's what we were talking about last week when we went out with some of our (new!) church friends.... Those awkward moments when you're lost in your own world and someone you know walks past you and you don't realize that they said hello until you're a couple blocks away and have a vague recollection that you may have just heard your name said several times. Be honest; you know exactly what I'm talking about. We talked about how we hope that people know to give us the benefit of the doubt that we weren't purposefully blowing them off or being rude... that sometimes you just frown and you don't mean anything by it. I wonder how often we fail to give others that same benefit of the doubt....

"You know what's life-changing?" Eli said. "Try looking around the subway at all the people there. So many of them are frowning or look really unpleasant or miserable. And you might be tempted to think that you would never want to know them or have a conversation with them. But try this: look at those people and imagine each one as Someone's 'Nicest Someone'-- you know, when someone says 'He's the nicest person I know...'-- and imagine that the person sitting across from you on the subway is that Nicest Someone to somebody else. Try it. It's pretty cool."

I tried it last night on the subway. That grumpy old man didn't seem so grumpy anymore; he seemed like maybe he'd just had a rough day. And the sullen teenager seemed a whole lot more misunderstood than rebellious.

Eli was right; it's pretty cool.

You should try it sometime.

Seeing Snow

I was supposed to go to Maryland yesterday to be there when my dad became a pastor at my parents' new church. It was a big deal, and I was supposed to be there for it.

But I missed my bus (and by two minutes, at that).

"Can you do me a favor?" my dad said when I called to break the news to him that I couldn't make it down there in time for the service. "Can you take the hours you would have spent getting here and back and enjoy a Day of Rest instead of a Day of Run?"

So I enjoyed a Day of Rest. I went to my new church and worshiped with the people who are becoming my friends there; later I relaxed at home and enjoyed some quiet time. But between the two, I did what might be the most restful thing I can do in the city-- I grabbed my camera and spent some time wandering through Central Park and capturing scenes of the freshly fallen snow.

I walked past a dad with his young daughter. She was so bundled she could barely move, but she was grinning from ear to ear, clearly having the time of her life. "She's seeing snow for the first time," he told a woman who had commented on the little girl's joy.

Can you imagine seeing snow for the first time? I can't remember what that was like.

I love snow-- don't get me wrong. But the joy of seeing it for the first time? You wouldn't think about the inconvenience. You wouldn't think about what it would look like when it eventually got dirty and started to melt. You would just see this beautiful white blanket over everything and making it look clean and fresh and new.

I looked around me at all the snow, and thought What if this was the first time I was seeing this-- all this white that makes everything look so beautiful?

And I, too, grinned from ear to ear.

Cool Runnings

Sometimes you just gotta get out and run.

It was 28 degrees when I woke up this morning. Not in my apartment (thank you, Lord, for heat); but that made it even less tempting to go outside.

But I had promised myself I'd run, even if I was only able to survive the cold for 20 minutes. So I bundled up in my winter-friendly running gear, laced up my sneakers (Vibrams probably aren't the best idea when it's 28 degrees outside...), and chose a running playlist.

Dang, it's cold out here.

But block by block as the blood started flowing and the sun warmed me more and more, I began to forget about the cold. I ran to the East River and along the path there. There is just something about being near water that soothes my soul. But when my lungs started burning from the cold air, I headed home, cutting across a basketball court that led to another basketball court that led to a playground in the middle of some of the housing projects a few blocks from my apartment.

Public basketball courts somehow always make me a little sad, because they make me think back to the days of our South Philly outreach to kids. They remind me of the kids I met and the kids I left behind. And they make me want to organize a basketball camp and meet the kids in my neighborhood.

So why don't you?

And all the sudden I forgot that my lungs were burning from the cold; and all the sudden I was running with a smile on my face.

I don't know if it'd really work. I don't know the details. I don't know what it'd look like or if it would even work the same way in Philly. The whole "South Philly cops have bigger fish to fry" thing always worked to my advantage in Philly... it was always easier to ask forgiveness than permission. But I can't help but think this idea didn't just come from me, and there sure are a lot of basketball courts in East Harlem.

And maybe someone at one of them won't mind if we borrow theirs for an afternoon every once in a while....

"Broken for you"

"This is my body, which is broken for you...."

But I'm allergic to wheat.

Yes, life is still worth living.
I've known for seven years now.
No, it's not as bad as you think.
Yes, you get used to it.
I know; I, too, was bummed to find out I couldn't eat pizza anymore.
Yes, life goes on.
Don't worry, if you find out you're allergic to wheat you, too, will survive.
Yes, it's possible to live a normal life. Even if you're allergic to wheat.
Trust me.

But I'm not gonna lie.... There are times when it really, really sucks.

"This is my body, broken for you. This do in remembrance of me, for as often as you eat the bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death til he comes."

It's hard to hear that at church every Sunday and want to participate but not be able to. To want to remember and to proclaim the Lord's death--on your behalf-- but not be able to.

Just because you're allergic to wheat.

"This is my body, broken for you."

Jesus broke his body for me, too-- I would remind myself as I sat in the pew while others partook and proclaimed his death.

And then today there was this little note in my bulletin: "Gluten free bread is available at the table upon request."

"This is my body, broken for you." You. Me.

Even though I'm allergic to wheat.

For the first time in a long time, I took my place in the communion line.

Can I have gluten-free? -- I whispered when I got to the table.

He uncovered a plate of gluten-free crackers, and I started to dip it in the wine.
"Wait!" Jason said and reached for a separate, for-gluten-free-dipping-only wine glass.

"This is my body which is broken for you."

My eyes filled with tears.

Broken for the broken, the broken-hearted, the glutarded, the messy people.

Broken for me.

"This is my body, which is broken for YOU."

Thanks be to God.