today

i wish to be accused of cutting school.


i know i look young. i might as well have some fun with it.

martha

the other night i was cleaning up from a party our house hosted, alone in the kitchen, while the last few people chatted away in the living room. my first fleeting thought was, "here i am again, being the martha." but just as quickly as that thought came to me, the realization struck me hard, martha was in the kitchen alone while her sister mary was with Jesus. but here i was in the kitchen, but far from alone. as i realized that i was with Jesus in the kitchen the joy filled me and spilled out into the suds filled sink with my dishes.

this is the laugh i love

the magic of christmas

i've struggled to explain it to people. why, for whatever reason, there is still that undeniable flutter in my chest at the thought of christmas. why i still hold on to the child-like hope that all things can be good on that special day, more specifically that special eve of a day.

tonight i was struck with a sudden memory that embodies the sentiment. a memory of a few christmases in a row, that encompassed the feeling i struggle to describe. my last few years of high school included membership in a club that focused on service. a friend of mine had started the club and i, not to be left out of anything, willingly and curiously joined. the 'service' we rendered on christmas eve forever is blazed in my memory. many people have had similar experiences. well off kids take gifts to families without. we would gather the items weeks in advance, have a party to wrap them, and then bundle up late at night, christmas eve, to deliver them.

i could begin now to talk about how great it felt to me, the warm fuzzies i got, how they were so grateful for us, but i will not. i have a book sitting on my desk titled, when charity destroys dignity. i have heard testimony of a friend about how handouts as a child broke his mother's heart because of her own inability to provide for her children. yet still, there was something alive in those nights. God was moving in those nights. they were not the end all, nominate me for sainthood moments that i originally believed them to be. as i stood, fumbling to find words to communicate with a latino father in tears, i grew to see that night as more than rich girl makes poor family eternally grateful. instead i saw people. people like me. God instilled a hunger in me to give, to help, in whatever way i could. God instilled in me a drive to defend the cause of immigrants, because i saw them for who they were. i have fought at many a dinner table for the respect and understanding of those in our country just trying to make it, while they take the first steps to learn how to live here, including learning the language of the land.

perhaps God let me see poverty as reality so i could live in it too and not begrudge God. perhaps God let me be touched by those lives because He was working all things out for good in all of our lives. perhaps.

all i know is that on these christmas eves, as i lit my candle at my home church's midnight service, i found that indescribable feeling tight in my chest. there were no words to describe it. all i knew was that i was now forever changed. and that God's gift of His only Son meant so much more, not because i had given, but because God had given abundantly more.

Twinkle Twinkle never sounded so good to my ears

become like children...

one thing about children. they don't assume they know it all. at their core they know their parents know more and when push comes to shove, they turn to them. they never fool themselves into thinking they have it all figured out, that they have the "correct doctrine." that is unheard of. rather humility is a natural part of their lives. they know they are weak. yet, they do not let this fact despair them. humility does not equal shame. rather, they embrace learning what they do not know with enthusiasm. learning is play, is life. it is normal, a joy, not a struggle. not knowing does not cause them to stumble in pride. they simply learn from one who knows and joyfully recive their new knowledge.

i think we can learn a lot from children.


yesterday i held two-year old melilla, curled up in my arms, scared from a scene in little mermaid 2. i held her and whispered, "shhh...it's okay. i know it's bad right now, but it will all be good in the end. i promise. trust me. i know."

at that moment i felt God's arms wrap around me and whisper, "shh...it's okay. I know it's bad right now, but it will all be good in the end. I promise. trust Me. I know."

amen.

times of crisis

i'm thinking about crisis right now.

i have 3 friends in jamaica right now with a team of high schoolers. and they are getting slammed with hurricane dean. we may loose contact with them soon. we just don't know what will happen. in times like these, with so much unknown, you don't know if the choices you make are going to be right or wrong. because you have no idea what the outcome will be.

earlier this week another friend got a phone call that her brother had been in a wreck. as of right now he's paralyzed from the neck down. he's had a surgery to stabalize him, but it will be weeks before they will be able to see if he can regain any feeling.

both situations seem grim. hopeless.

it reminds me of a time when my newborn nephew lay in a hospital attached to machines that pumped his heart and lungs for him. the doctors didn't hold out much hope for him either.

but then God's people prayed. and he breathed. on his own. something the doctors said was impossible. God healed my nephew completely. it was, in all accounts, a miracle.

so now we pray again. knowing that God is a miracle worker. that He is more powerful than any force in this world.

with God there is always reason to hope.