A Tree Growing in Brooklyn

When everything you're reading and everything you're processing is all along the same theme, do you think it's because God's trying to teach you something? I'm beginning to think that's gotta be it.

One of the first things I did after I made the decision to move to Brooklyn was to buy the book A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Not because I had any idea what it was about; I just remember my cousin reading it when we were in high school, and it's been on my "to-read" list ever since. What better time than when I'm actually living in the place where the story is set?

Back in the fall, when one of the girls in my girls' group suggested that we read A Praying Life, I didn't think much of it. It, too, was on my "to-read" list since multiple friends had mentioned it in passing. I started reading the book with the rest of the group, about one chapter every couple weeks. We didn't finish it before I left for New York, so I've committed to finishing it this summer on my own.

Two very different books. But really, they are just two different approaches to the same theme.

"Everything struggles to live," muses Kate, the mother of the heroine in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. "Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It's growing out of sour earth. And it's strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong."

Paul Miller, in A Praying Life, focuses on the spiritual aspect of our struggles, arguing that it is essential for growth and strength. If God loves me, why does this all have to be so hard? is a question I have wrestled with again and again over the past year. Why isn't he answering my prayers? Why are people around me suffering? If God is supposed to be for me, why does it seem like he's actually against me? Miller addresses these questions, because he has asked the same exact ones. His conclusion? "God takes everyone he loves through a desert. It is his cure for our wandering hearts, restlessly searching for a new Eden. . . . Desert life sanctifies you. . . . The desert becomes a window to the heart of God. He finally gets your attention because he's the only game in town."

At the end of the book, Kate's daughter, Francie Nolan, sees the same tree her mother had observed years earlier--
The tree, whose leaf umbrellas had curled around, under and over her fire escape had been cut down because the housewives complained that wash on the lines got entangles in its branches. The landlord had sent two men and they had chopped it down.
But the tree hadn't died... it hadn't died.
A new tree had grown from the stump and its trunk had grown along the ground until it reached a place where there were no wash lines above it. Then it had started to grow towards the sky again.
Annie, the fir tree, that the Nolans had cherished with waterings and manurings, had long since sickened and died. But this tree in the yard-- this tree that men chopped down... this tree that they built a bonfire around, trying to burn up its stump-- this tree lived!
It lived! And nothing could destroy it.

I think I always want the life of Francie's fir tree-- I want to be taken care of and given all the things I need without any pain and without having to fight for them. But I love the picture here-- how the cherished fir tree isn't as strong as the "deserted" one that has to fight for survival. And it's the same with the Christian life, isn't it... I would love for everything I pray for to be given to me without having to struggle through a desert period of unanswered prayer. But God's not content just to have me be happy; he wants me to be strong, and the only way for that to happen is for him to change me. Maybe by not giving me what I ask for, maybe by making me wait for an answer, but always by weaving his story in my life.

Miller sums it up really well: "When God seems silent and our prayers go unanswered, the overwhelming temptation is to leave the story-- to walk out of the desert and attempt to create a normal life. But when we persist in a spiritual vacuum, when we hang in there during ambiguity, we get to know God. In fact, that is how intimacy grows in all close relationships."

I've written about the Black Hole of Communication that I loathe so much. While I usually use this to refer to emails or phone calls that have gone unanswered, I'm afraid it's also how I often perceive prayer-- sending prayers into the same Black Hole. Except that ultimately it's easier not to hear from my fellow humans than not to hear from God. Because if I start to believe that God doesn't hear me and doesn't care enough to respond, then it will shake the very foundations of my world.

So I guess the important thing is to continue to struggle. Use whatever metaphor you want-- a tree in Brooklyn, a girl in a desert-- either way, the struggle is what causes the growth.

It's cool to think that the indestructible tree is an accurate metaphor of the Christian, too. Sure, I'll never be invincible here on earth; but "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Rom. 8:31).

And God is for us. God is for me.

I will fight to believe that.

Completing the beauty

I went to Redeemer tonight (for the first time during my summer-in-NYC, so it's still in keeping with the Visiting Different Churches plan). Tim Keller quoted C.S. Lewis, I think from Reflections on the Psalms -- about how when we experience something wonderful or see something beautiful, we want to tell our friends about it and have them share the experience with us. Lewis says that to have others share the joy of something completes the beauty of it.

This has a lot of applications to life, especially to sharing the gospel (which was Keller's point); but as I was thinking about it more this evening, it just struck me how that's part of the reason I personally have been enjoying blogging and knowing that many of you are sharing in my experiences as you read it.

You're helping complete the beauty.

:)

Happiness

"Happiness is finding a pencil, pizza with sausage, telling the time. Happiness is learning to whistle, tying your shoes for the very first time. . . . Happiness is morning and evening, day time and night time too. For happiness is anyone and anything at all that's loved by you." Or so say Charlie Brown and his friends in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

I just finished reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (excellent, excellent book that I will blog more about in the future), and there was one paragraph that made me think of Charlie Brown's description.

Francie, the heroine, thinks to herself, "People always think that happiness is a faraway thing, something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains-- a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone-- just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness."

I think Charlie and Francie are on to something. So often I'm so busy looking toward things I don't have, and I forget to look at all the "little things" all around me that are really what give life its color and joy.

Milestones

My grandpa turned 90 today. I'm in Maryland for the weekend to celebrate; Tim, Steve, and Ellen just got here too, so we'll have a little party for him tomorrow night. I got here while my grandparents were taking their nap, so I asked my mom if I could wake them up.

"Oh, Anne!!!" exclaimed my grandma when she opened her eyes and saw me. "What brings you here?!"

I'm here for Pop-Pop birthday-- he's turning 90 today!

"Oh, it's his birthday??" and she turned to my grandpa apologetically. "Oh Bill, I didn't even send you a card!"

Gramarie broke her hip a couple months ago and had to have a hip replacement, but she suffers from Alzheimer's and doesn't remember any of that ordeal (or that she'd probably wished Pop-Pop a "Happy Birthday" at least a dozen times earlier in the day). She still isn't allowed to walk without a walker, but she doesn't remember this and has to be reminded constantly. After helping her get up from the bed and getting her set up with her walker, she and I started to head to the kitchen to have some tea (Birthday Tea from Alice's, to be exact). As my mom helped Pop-Pop get up from the other side of the bed and get started on his way with his walker, Gramarie lost focus on heading out to the kitchen. Turns out, she was still distraught over forgetting his birthday. "Oh Bill," she said, parking her walker and heading over to him on her own -- we interrupted her with a shout of "You can't walk without your walker!!!" and she said, "But I just want to give him a birthday kiss; I haven't even given him a birthday kiss yet." But she took her walker with her the remaining few steps and gave him a kiss, both of their walkers awkwardly between them. "Happy Birthday, Bill; I love you."

It reminded me of when we went to move them from the Assisted Care place in Cape Cod to my parents' home in Maryland. The nurses and aides there told me, "We'll miss seeing your grandparents walking down the hall to meals, always hand-in-hand. It's obvious that they love each other very much."

They celebrated their 62nd anniversary this past Sunday. 62 years-- filled with their share of hard things, but also with so many good memories-- and those nurses and aides were right: it's obvious that they still love each other very much.

Happy Birthday, Pop-Pop!

Danny's Revisited

I stopped by Danny's today to get my paycheck. He'd told me last week that it would be ready any day after Tuesday. Well, last I checked Thursday comes after Tuesday; but today he said it wasn't ready yet and that I should come back tomorrow....

Gretchen came with me on her way to the subway; we grabbed coffee and sat for a while after my little exchange with Danny. Camille was there-- happy to see me, but looked ready to cry. She told me in hushed tones that she'd threatened to quit that morning but Danny had begged her to stay. Honestly I'm not sure how that place is still open... the one other customer we sat near announced loudly that he would not be coming back again.

It's weird to think about how many people we come into contact with over the course of our lives. And I believe God is sovereign and working out his plan, so I believe that each one of those contacts has a distinct purpose. I can't quite make sense of it.... I wonder why I met Camille; I wonder why I care about her so deeply, having known her for only three days; and I wonder if this is the end of the story of my interaction with her.

I'm going to go back for my paycheck tomorrow to see if it's "ready." Hopefully Camille will be working; maybe I'll see if she wants to have lunch someday next week...

Tea, (so much more than) a drink with jam and bread

Who knew?! There is SO much to learn about tea! Do you know the difference between white, green, and black tea? What temperature is ideal for water for tea? How to decaffeinate any tea?

Neither did I two days ago.

The past few days I've been training as a barista and a host at Alice's Teacup. If you've never been there, you're missing out-- honestly. The whole place is themed around Alice in Wonderland, so the menu has options on it like "The Mad Hatter" and "The Jabberwocky" (if you're really, really hungry). Little girls who walk in are offered fairy wings that they can wear during their meal, and anyone can make a wish when sprinkled with fairy dust at the front counter.

So far I've really enjoyed it. The staff has been really friendly and welcoming (maybe it has something to do with that Gretchen, my roommate and good friend, is their manager-- but I like to think it's purely because they're nice people); and everyone is encouraged to be themselves and to have a good time.

My biggest complaint at this point is that they make me feel very unaccomplished. Most of my fellow employees are aspiring actors/actresses, singers, or writers. They're not really sure what to do with me when I don't fit into any of these categories. Some of them are relieved to have "different blood" in the mix; others I think really aren't sure what to talk to me about since I'm not taking auditions or submitting writing samples like the rest of them.

I was tempted to tell them "I blog-- that's my artistic talent"; but then I'd have to give them the blog address, and I wouldn't be able to write stories about them....

Begin at the Beginning

I started training for my new job yesterday-- this place is MUCH more organized than Danny's, I'm happy to report!

Alice's Teacup is an adorable tea shop that has three locations-- one on the Upper West Side (Chapter 1) and two on the Upper East Side (Chapters 2 and 3). I'll be working as a host and a barista (the person who makes the pots of tea). It's not waitressing, but it should still allow for lots of people interaction. :)

I figure customer service should be pretty easy here; I'm sure we just follow the Queen's wisdom: "I warn you dear child, if I lose my temper, you lose your head. Understand?"

When I get home I shall write a book about this place... If I ever do get home.....