back to the city

1/11/09

I went to the city today.

I was excited to go... until I got there... and I realized I didn't want to be there.

You know what I mean? You think you know what you want, or who you want, then you get what you want (or who you want), and you realize you don't want what you thought you wanted (or who you thought you wanted).

It's a pretty hot mess.

God has taught me that a few times... that I don't really know what I want. And every dag-gum time He is right... I don't.

Time and time again He has shown me that He knows me... better than I know myself.

So back to the city.

I thought I wanted to go... until I got there... and I realized I was tired, and I didn't feel like talking to people... and I just wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl in my bed and curl up under my covers. I wanted to sleep. And dream. And be happy. At least for a few hours.

I've never been much of a power napper. I wish I was... I would probably get a lot more done, only sleeping for 20 minutes and then getting on with my day.

No, I'm more of an hour napper than a power napper. And when I say "an hour," I really mean 2... at least. Yea, a good nap is at least two hours for me. Anything under that and I get cranky.

Don't get me wrong, if I could actually get up after 20 minutes I would probably (like most people say) be more energized and stuff... but I just can't do it. It's so... un-fulfilling.

So back to the city.

I sat on the stairs inside of Union Station and I listened to a new friend tell me and a few others about where his travels in the military had taken him... and I just sat there... and as selfish as it sounds... all I could think was "I don't want to be here."

As I have stated in the past, there is a group of us who go into the city every Sunday to hang out with people who have become our friends, and very much a part of our lives, who are in fact homeless, some of them alcoholics, and even drug addicts. Sometimes they are sober when we see them. Sometimes they aren't. Either way we love them, and we love to see them.

As I'm sure many of you know, from your own situations or circumstances, it is hard to see someone you love outwardly express their inner hurts by escaping the present moment, which in the long run doesn't help them at all, but only prolongs the pain and creates a cycle...

a seemingly impossible cycle to break free from...

the cycle of addiction.



But back to the city...

I started to wonder why I had even come. I started to analyze my every thought and wonder what in the world I was even thinking.

"What are my motives? Why am I here? Do I actually care about these people? Why do I feel like I don't care? Why do I not care? Why do I not want to talk to anybody today? What time is it? Can we say we need to leave early?"

Even while wondering these things, I know that deep down (somewhere very deep today) I love do them. I do care about them. I don't care about them today, but I do love them.

You know how you have those days? Days when you just don't care? You don't care about other people because you're trying hard not to care about the fact that you can't afford to pay your rent... or your phone bill. Or you totalled your car and can't afford to get a new one so you have to figure out how to get to work without your closest friends thinking you are using them. Or your hours got cut from a job that is not even all that satisfying to begin with, but none the less, you need the money to pay the rent that you can't afford.

Do you know what I am talking about? When your mind is just cluttered? Plum full of everything but the very people around you.

It's a pretty hot mess.



So back to the city.

That's where I was today... well, yes, I was in the city, but while in the city, I was in my head... not caring about the people around me, because I was trying to figure out how to pay my rent... and my phone bill. And how I was going to get to work tomorrow without burdening someone else. And how long I would have to continue bumming rides before I could afford a car. And how I could maybe work more doubles so I could get more hours, even though I feel slightly dead the longer I work there.

So back to the city.

I had no energy and was feeling discouraged.

And then something happened.

But in order to tell you what happened, I need to tell you a story...




Back in November we had a Thanksgiving dinner in the back room of Giordanno's (downtown Chicago) for and with our "homeless" friends that we get to see every Sunday.

I won't make any disclaimers about myself, or maybe that was one, but I will say that I have been known to not necessarily think through my actions sometimes. If someone says "I dare you," I say "how much?"

So at this Thanksgiving dinner, of which we sat with friends who were homeless and didn't often get to eat, a friend dared me to chew up this big hot pepper for at least 20 seconds (which in my mind, means spit it out when you are done) and she said she'd pay me.

Now... this is a no brainer for me... I mean, come on... chew a pepper... pleeease... that's child's play... but I wasn't going to say that. I asked how much she'd give me if I'd do it.

I was hoping she'd say five dollars... but she said twenty dollars!


HOLY CRAP! JACKPOT!

Seriously... I thought that in capital letters... but I wasn't going to say that.

Before beginning (as any good daree knows) I asked to see the twenty dollars.

Mind you, we are sitting around homeless people while talking about chewing up food and spitting it out... for money.

Unfortunately this thought did not occur to me as I had already started to chew when my friend began counting... one (one thousand), two (one thousand)... and so on and so on... and as soon as she hit twenty (one thousand), I grabbed a plate and spit out the pepper, along with some saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

My friends clapped, but still looked slightly disappointed...

"Ah man, I should have said you had to eat the whole thing," said the darer.

Feeling slightly threatened and the need to entertain, I got on it right away...

"what? You want me to eat it? I'll eat it, I don't care..."

and with that I licked the pepper back up that I had just spit out on the plate... along with my saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

They cheered and my ego was content. She handed me the twenty dollars and I proudly held it up and waved it in the air... "I just won twenty dollars!"

It took me about two seconds after yelling that out to the whole room to realize what I had just said.



I just yelled out that I won a twenty dollar bill and waved it in the air at a party for homeless people.

This is where Bill Engvall of Blue Collar Comedy says, "here's your sign!"


I mean, seriously, that was just... stupid! And when I say stupid, I mean ignorant. And when I say ignorant, I mean just flat out rude.

I crouched back down in my seat, looked around and hoped for the first time that not too many people were listening to me. My friends were laughing hysterically at my embarrassment, but I was scoping out the rest of the room to make sure none of the "homeless people" were watching, so as not to offend them.

Luckily I took on this dare during dinner, so most people were busy eating and didn't witness my ignorant cash money exposure.

Other than that, the rest of the evening was amazing... we sat around and told stories and cheesy jokes. We played the guitar while some the harmonica, we danced, we clapped. We just did life... together... there in that little back room of Giordanno's Pizza. It was just a sweet sweet time that I don't think I will ever forget.



Now we fast forward to the week after our Thanksgiving pizza dinner...

a usual group of us are walking around union station looking for some of our friends, and I happen to see the girl who heads up our group talking to a man sitting on one of the big, long brown benches. I had just seen someone I knew she wanted to see, so as I walked past I motioned to her that someone she would want to see was on the other side of the station.

I noticed that as I walked past her, the man she was talking to was angry. Not just angry... he was pissed. He was yelling, and I maybe would have gone over there if she was by herself, but she had someone with her, so I just kept walking. She kind of even gave me a look like "just keep walking."

"I wonder what his problem is," I thought to myself...

and went about the rest of my day enjoying the company of those I met with.


You see, the Lord has quite the sense of humor, because as I found out from those who had talked to the man with "the problem"...

I was his problem.


"Me?" I thought, "what the crap did I do?"

My friend brings up Thanksgiving and my heart drops. I know exactly what she is talking about. She said that he was so offended by what I did, he got up and left without saying goodbye to anybody.

I had no idea. I had no idea he saw. I had no idea I offended him. I had no idea he left.

I thought I got off scotch free... but as it turns out, someone's always watching... and he was.


The man's name is Darryl, and he sits in the same spot in Union Station almost every day.

That day that I walked past him ranting and raving to my friend about something... he was ranting and raving about how I had offended him. Talk about humbling.

I say humbling because you can be the class clown, or the dare devil, or the circus performer, and wow people or make them laugh, and that's great... but one thing you need to know is... you can't please em' all. Someone is going to be offended. Someone is going to think you're not funny. Someone is just simply not going to be wowed by you. You can't win em' all. And you know what? That's OK.

There were people there who thought what I did was funny, or crazy, or just plain stupid, which even that I am OK with, but Darryl was none of the above. He was simply unimpressed and highly offended.

Now, yes, on the one hand I felt really embarrassed. But on the other, I had to show myself some grace, because I knew my heart and I knew my intentions, and I knew I did not mean to offend anybody.

None the less, I offended Darryl and I was afraid to talk to him after that. In fact I didn't even go near him (for weeks)...


until today...


which is the something that happened.



So back to the city.

In an attempt to break out of my funk, I thought maybe I would try to talk to Darryl. For some reason, though I didn't feel like making an effort with anyone else, I felt like making an effort with Darryl.

Darryl sat in his usual spot and my heart pounded as I walked toward him. I had been wanting to apologize to him for a while, but there is something slightly intimidating about approaching a rather large African American man, who you managed to offend just a little over a month ago. (And no, color does not matter... I'm just painting the picture, so bear with me... for those of you who wonder why I have to bring up his color... I don't... I just like detail.)

I walk towards him and he has the grumpiest look on his face. I can feel him staring me down, but I just keep walking. My fists are clinched, and I let God know that I really need his help... and strength.

"Lord, come with me, I'm really nervous. Please keep walking towards him, because I can't. I'd rather hide and not worry about it. Lord, please help me."

As I get closer, I let him know I am going to approach him by waving in a sort of "I come in peace" kind of way.

He looks angry. I keep walking.

He notices me wave and looks behind him, as if he is wondering why I would be waving at him. I come up and sit down next to him...

"are you Darryl?"

He hits pause on his disc man and says yes but looks straight ahead instead of looking at me.

"Hi, I'm JJ, and I don't know if you remember me, but..."

He interrupts, "yea I remember you! I remember you from that party!"

"Oh good, cause actually that was what I wanted to talk to you about... my behavior that day... at the party. I know that you were offended by what I did, and I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry..."

He seems surprised, yet is still sarcastic (as if he's trying not to appreciate the fact that I am apologizing)... "that's alright, at least you got some money out of it... and some poor taste!"

I look down and kind of smile, but not in a proud way, in a way that says I know I have to not just say I am sorry, I have to let him know that I really mean it.

"You're right," I say, "what I did that day was stupid! I didn't even think about it, I just did it... and not that it's an excuse, but that's just how I am. I do stupid stuff... and I don't even know why. If someone dares me to do something, I'll do it, just like that! But I just want you to know that I didn't mean to offend you and that I really am sorry. I hope you're not mad at me."

He looks at me and hesitates, then kind of smiles, "nah, I'm mad at you. It's OK. I can't hate you forever. I was mad that day, but now that you've come talk to me, I'm not mad at you. And what you did wasn't stupid..."

I start to feel better, till he keeps talking, "it was immature!"

My face turns red, but I laugh a little bit, "OK, OK, I get it, I know, but I'm telling you... that's how I am!"


At this point Darryl is curious and tells me about shows he used to watch when he was younger about people who would pay contestants to do crazy things like eat bugs or drink goldfish. He looks at me and smiles, "so what else have you done? Tell me some of your stories!"

And thus begins our conversation that lasted most of the day.

The man who was offended by the dare I accepted now wants to hear all about other dares I have accepted that have offended other people. He tells me he used to love those dare shows and he even encourages me to make money that way since I'm willing to eat bugs and stuff, because apparently not too many people are (he's obviously not an avid watcher of Fear Factor or Survivor).

He asks me "what's the most amount you've ever made on a dare?" And I tell him.... twenty dollars... the very dare that is the reason we are sitting there talking...

which makes me think about how I can make it up to him for missing out on the rest of Thanksgiving dinner.

I tell him I want to make it up to him by giving him the money I won from that dare. I shouldn't have accepted it anyway. And I shouldn't have been so proud to show it.

Normally, we never give out money when we go to the city, it's actually kind of an unwritten rule... but I always seem to "accidentally" find a way to break the rules. I pull a $20 bill out of my pocket and put it in his hands. I told him I hope it didn't offend him, but he smiles... I mean... what homeless man is going to be offended when you hand him twenty dollars?

Darryl is a good guy. Do I know him well enough to know what he will do with twenty dollars? No. I don't. But I know he loves cheeseburgers and pizza, he doesn't like guys who drink, and he's been sober every time I've seen him. He listens to music a lot, so I think I will make him a CD, and he loves to take pictures. He actually has a really old Kodak camera that you still put the film in and wind, so we sat there while he showed me some of his pictures.

Before I left to go meet up with everyone else, I gave him a hug and I told him I would like to see him next week. He smiles and says "OK, yea, next week, I'll be here!"

After that I felt released from whatever funk I was in. I felt free, and I felt interested... interested in the people we were talking to and the lives we were investing in.

---------------------------------------

1/28/09


I love finding blogs that I never finished... it makes me wonder where my thought process was going to go next. I still don't know where my thought process is going to go, so I'll probably never figure out where that one went.

I do remember, however, that the rest of that day was amazing. After leaving Darryl, I went and met back up with everyone else up on the stairs. The rest of the time we laughed, sang, and even danced, a little. We caused quite a commotion but we were loving every minute of it.

In re-telling this story to another friend, she actually made me feel a little bit better about what happened at Thanksgiving dinner...

"I understand how you feel JJ, and I understand that he was offended, but on the other hand, I think it's kind of good... you were just being yourself... (chewing up, spitting out, then chewing up again a pepper for money) is something you would do without homeless people around and not feel bad about it. They got to see a side of you that you probably wouldn't have shown them in fear of offending them. They got to see the real you, not the you who has it all together and comes to the city once a week to visit... but the you who is goofy, and playful, and sometimes stupid! Sure, you offended Darryl, but it's OK, and he's OK. And now the two of you have a story to laugh at... all because you were being yourself!"



OK, she didn't say all of that, but she said some of it (I made up the rest cause I thought it sounded good... big fish)!



I haven't seen Darryl since then. To be honest, I don't think I have been back to the city since then. Life seems to always throw something my way which makes it easy to at stay home on a Sunday afternoon. And it's not that I want to be hard on myself for not having been back to the city, I can't do everything and be everywhere (and that is OK), but I do want to be aware of the feelings and emotions involved when I start investing in another person(s), and how it might affect them if I were to just disappear.

And so, I hope to go back soon... and for the sake of this blog I wish I could proudly type that I will be there on Sunday, but to be honest, I don't know.

I just don't know... and not even entirely because of my schedule.




I just don't know because...

sometimes when I invest in people, I realize it doesn't just affect them... it affects me... and that scares me.

It scares me to care so much. It scares me to commit. And as much as I boast about LOVE, LOVE, LOVE... it scares me to love... because love hurts. And with love, there are no guarantees!




And sitting here re-reading everything I just wrote, I realize... I don't want to live my life based on guarantees (though I'm prone to do so)... that's really no fun at all... or even a life for that matter.


And though I was hoping to have ended this before now, I guess this realization can really only mean one thing...

so...





back to the city!

uh... help?

I am out of ideas and am pretty sure my lifelines have all been used up...

so this is me asking for help, behind the safety of a computer (it makes rejection so much easier), and hoping maybe this will get me somewhere... literally... somewhere... preferably work, but even if you can get me half way there, it'd be much appreciated.

Walking is an option, yes, but not when it's 12 degrees outside! Not even the kids in Africa who walk miles to get to school have to do that, nor would they even know how to do it.

So, that said...

as the 3 of you may know (or whoever else may read this), I smashed my car up nice and good before going home for Christmas, which has made it quite convenient for getting places. I have yet to hear if it's fixed, and day after day I have to work up the nerve to ask someone to go out of their way to help me out.

Yes, it is quite inconvenient not just for those who I'm asking, but for myself. It bothers me to know I can't get there on my own, but it more so bothers me to think that I am getting on people's nerves because I am continuously asking for rides. But... such is life, and this has been quite the humbling experience.

Most of my friends have shown me tremendous grace, knowing that through this season I'm probably more so calling for a ride to work than I am to hang out. And for that, I thank them! Hopefully soon things can go back to normal.

All that said....

here is my work schedule. If ANYONE... literally ANYONE can help me out at all in the next two weeks, I would be beyond grateful. I don't have much to give you in return (other than good conversation), which makes it even harder to ask, but none the less, I am asking.


(deep breath) Here we go...


Tue. 1/27 10a-2pm
Wed. 1/28 1pm- ? (I actually need to go to court... for the reason I don't have a car! This could make for a fun ride cause we could talk about how much I appreciate the idea of cops, but how much I really don't like who most of them are!... but I'm trying to... I know... love, love, love!)

Thur. 1/29 10a-5pm
Fri. 1/30 8a-4:30pm

Mon. 2/2 8a-4pm
Wed. 2/4 10:30a- 6pm
Fri. 2/6 8a-4:30pm
Sat. 2/7 10:30a-6pm

Mon. 2/9 8a-3:30pm
Wed. 2/11 10:30a-6pm
Thur. 2/12 11a-5pm


And that's it (for now). As my manager says, the schedule is subject to change (except the court date), so "nevermind(s)" or "oh actually(s)" may come up, for which I apologize in advance.

I also apologize for using my blog as a means of soliciting transportation, but then again, I don't make you read this, so I'm kinda really not that sorry.

Honestly... hopefully I can take you to coffee one day, regardless of if you can give me a ride or not, because I really do hope to just sit and talk with the people who actually read my thoughts.

And then (in all sincerity) I'd like to hear yours.




One day.

Hopefully.

Definitely.

Maybe.




Either way, in the words of the Golden Girls, "Thank you for being a friend!"

two birds

I think I'm starting to get sick.

I woke up with that scratchy throat feeling... the one the prefaces the sore throat and all the snot that jumps out from the different locations of your face... yea, that one... I woke up with that one.

My first thought was "oh crap!"

My second... "where the heck did all my blankets go?"

I'm a mover... even in my sleep... therefore I never wake up with my covers actually on me. You would think that by now I would be used to waking up with my covers on the floor while I lay freezing on my bed curled in the fetal position, but no... every morning I wake up and am just as shocked as the day before to find that someone seems to have taken my covers... again.

After re-adjusting under my many layers of blankets, I went back to my first thought... "oh crap!"

"Man, I don't wanna get sick!

Of course, who actually wants to?

Well, Phoebe did in that one episode of Friends... she thought it made her voice sound sexy when she sang.

Huh... there's a thought... but no... I don't want to get sick!"

I got up and looked for some Orange Juice, hoping to pump my immune system full of vitamin C, but found nothing even remotely close to that of Orange Juice (I don't know why I feel the need to capitalize Orange Juice, but for some weird reason, I do... so I will).

Instead of finding any juice at all in the fridge, I found 3 and a half gallons of milk... not all of which are mine, but good Lord, could a fridge possibly house any more milk at any one given time?

There are three girls (in the house) at the moment, so even if we each had our own gallon, which I'm assuming is the case, whose the half gallon for?

Anyway, neither here nor there... just a side track.

Since I had no juice, I opted for fruit... but I had no fruit. So I opted for the next best thing... fruit roll ups! I figured this would be a good way to get my vitamins in and kill a second bird with the same stone by benefiting the snot factor more so than the milk.

Mission accomplished.



And then I sat down to write. Not even necessarily about fruit roll ups and snot, but that was the first thing that came to the tips of my fingers, so I let it flow.

And now I'm done... completely distracted from what I thought I was going to write about, unable to even remember what that is, and I feel content.

My stories of fruit roll ups and snot may not change the world, or even spark the mind of the person(s) who does, but in this moment of just sitting back and enjoying life for what it is, I am OK with that.

I can't always be a superhero. I can't always be a Jerry Lewis. I can't always be a Beth Moore, or a Rob Bell. In fact, I can't always be the JJ that people expect me to be. Sometimes I'm just Jennie... and I am OK with that.

And so... this morning I am taking the world off of my shoulders and just taking it easy. I am going to sit back, and let God be God.

I am going to rest in the peacefulness of today, knowing that in God's time, He will use me,

after which... the world may never be the same!





So rest up friends, and be willing to be used!

But once willing...
be prepared! Cause He will use you,

and after which... the world may never be the same!

without shoes

One thing I put off talking about for a long time is the election.

Enough was going on without me throwing my two cents in, and everyone made out just fine.

I've waited. And things are calm (though it is the day before the inauguration), so maybe people can read this objectively, and without bias.

(Here's hoping...)

If you don't like the way it starts, maybe you should keep reading. If you like the way it starts, maybe you too should keep reading, with an open mind to hear what I have to say.

Who am I to say something?

In all honesty... no one. Just a girl with an opinion. Who cares, right?

But this isn't so much about my opinion as it is about what God is doing in my life and in my heart, and I guess I just wanted to share it.

He is teaching me to understand what it means to love...

not just from my own shoes, but from the shoes of others, and if He wears em', His shoes.


So with that said, I invite you to take off your shoes and step outside of yourself...

here are my two cents...







I was one of those.

One of those who were convinced that the world was coming to an end if Barack Obama was elected as the next President of the United States. Some people proudly admit that, others think it quietly to themselves.

I'll be the first to admit that I was a quiet believer in this thought around my "democratic," "homeless," or "African-American" friends.

I put quotations around their titles because that's not who they are. It may be part of who they are, but that title does not define them as a person, no more than "Caucasian," "middle-class," or "free spirited conservative" defines me as a person... as a child of God created in His very image.


Regardless of your political and/or spiritual views, continue to bear with me.


Though I say their titles do not define them, and that seems all good and "Christian" of me, I am guilty as defining them by their titles. For a period of time, when the future of our country was uncertain, and the race was on for history in the making, I separated myself from "them."

"Them," being Obama supporters.


I couldn't understand why people were making such a big deal out of Obama. It's like he had become this idol that people worshipped... literally, worshipped. His face was plastered across t-shirts, people cried at the sight of him, I think Oprah even fainted when he was elected.

To me, it just all seemed so... I'll be honest... sad.

To think that people would put that much hope in one man... a man... it was sad to me. To think that this one man was going to change the world, and save people from the situations and lifestyles in which they lived in, it was sad. And I'll be honest... scary.

Hope, faith, trust... in a man?

I couldn't understand why people were so blind... which is exactly what I called "them..." blind.



As time has gone by, and as I have dug deeper, whether it be into my own faith, or U.S. history in general, I have started to wonder if maybe it is I who have been blind.

Here me out republicans or evangelicals... not blinded in thinking that a man could ever be my salvation... I know where my hope lies... it lies in that of Jesus Christ... not Barack Obama, or John McCain. But maybe I (and you) have been blinded by equating the hope for an equal America with the hope for an abundant life.

The two are different, and I have realized that I want both. My hope lies in Christ... absolutely... and in that I hope, I hope we all get to experience abundant life, not just in this life, but in the next.

And abundant life (in this life) looks like this...

LOVE.

Taking off your own shoes, and seeing life from someone elses.

LOVE.

Walking barefoot, next to those whose feet are of another color.

LOVE.

Stepping outside of yourself, and loving others... who aren't like you, near you, nice to you, or even deserving of your love.

LOVE.

Giving your shoes to someone that has none, and not so that they may see life the way you do, but so that they may see that even someone from a different walk of life cares for them and sees them as worthy of love.

Just LOVE.

Only in loving others can we truly hope to experience abundant life.

Only in loving others can we truly hope for an equal America.

So this has made me wonder... over the past 232 years, have the people of our country loved each other? Have we treated others as we have wanted to be treated? Have we loved the way Christ loved?

In all honesty, no. We haven't. And I'm not even saying that all of a sudden when Obama becomes president we'll all start loving each other, I don't think it's that simple.

But I am saying that given the history of this country, and all it's people have been through, people of any and every color have every right to cry (without judgement) at the sight of an African American man becoming the 44th president of the United States of America.


And to take it deeper, not just an African American who can trace his roots back to someone in his blood line being from Africa, but an African American who was born of a Kenyan father.

And I'm not saying this makes him more African American (again, we're thinking equality here) than others, but for the purposes of helping you understand the depth of what is about to happen tomorrow, think about it...

born of a Kenyan father.

Some 70 years ago a little boy in Kenya, Africa was running around, probably with a stick and the rim of a bicycle wheel, who would one day have a son who would grow up to be the President of the United States.

WHAT?

Can you imagine?

Could he have?



I went to Africa this past summer and I listened to all of the children we were with tell us their dreams of becoming doctors, lawyers, pastors, and pilots. They had HUGE dreams. Bigger dreams than most American children could even begin to imagine while they are busy playing their play stations or game boys or whatever it is that's popular this year.

In between pushing the rim of a bicycle wheel with a stick, the Ugandan children would laugh and run up to us and tell us how they longed to see America, but more so how they longed to help their people.

Kids... this is kids saying this!

If one of those boys were to run up to me and tell me that he hoped to spark the mind of the next President of the United States... I honestly don't know if I could say I bet he could, or would.

I may smile. Hold him and hug him, laugh with him and love him. But then I would probably tuck his silly little dream, of this seemingly God forsaken continent ever being remotely close to that of mine, far away.

I have been blinded in seeing that nothing is impossible with God (Mark 9:23; Luke 17:6), and that all things work together for the good of those that love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

God does not makes mistakes...

we do... but God works through them.




The voice of a little African boy who once longed to see poverty end, peace restored, and injustice come to an end in his own country, and even his whole continent, has sparked the mind of a man who will be the next President of the world's most powerful country... the United States of America.

WOW!



I once judged those that cried at the sight of Obama or the thought of him winning. I thought they had their priorities mixed up and had misplaced what and who they believed in. Until I realized... maybe they don't have their priorities mixed up at all, maybe I just don't understand.

I don't understand what it's like to be a minority. I don't know what it's like to be treated unfair because of the color of my skin. I don't understand what it's like to be asked to move to the back of the bus, nor do I know what it is like to be attacked or beaten simply for having a voice to stand up for and believe in something that is bigger than all of us... a love for all people, no matter what color, shape, size, or belief.

I do not know what it is like to walk in the shoes of those who have been mistreated because of their color... so how dare I say I don't understand why they are crying when history has been made and a dream that was spoken on August 28, 1963 has seeped through time and become a form of reality...

"I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

There is much I believe in and much I don't understand, and I admit my ignorance. But I refuse to sit in... to sit in my ignorance and assume that I know what it is like to cry out for physical freedom and hope for equality when equality as a white woman in this day and age is all I have ever known.


And so... politics aside, even as a McCain supporter this whole election, I have taken off my shoes for the purposes of loving you and loving others, and I welcome you, Mr. Barack Obama, to your new position as the President of the United States of America.

You and I may not see eye to eye on certain issues (maybe one day you can try on my shoes), but it's OK... I am proud to call you my president.

You have given people hope, including myself, for which I want to thank you.

And I pray that our hope in you and in a greater America will spark an even greater hope in the One who was, and is, and is to come!

Cause like it or not, He's coming...

and then and only then will we all be free at last! free at Last! thank God Almighty we will be free at last!

letters from a grateful woman

Tired.

Hurt.

Alone.

Sad.

These words describe me. These words have become me.

The very me of who I am.

Does that even make sense?

I don't know.

Nor do I even care.

I was told today that a thorn may be left in my side for the purposes of keeping me from certain sin. For the purposes of keeping me from pride. For the purposes of thinking that I am everything without anything from God.

At first I was sad.

I don't want a thorn in my side nor more than Paul did (read the bible, I'm not in the mood to explain, unless you ask).

I don't want a thorn in my side no more than a parent wants to be told their child was born with a birth defect. No more than a wife wants to find out her husband was unfaithful. No more than a child wants to hear that one of his parents is leaving.

I don't want to hear it, and I don't want to acknowledge it.

I don't want it to be true. I don't want it to be real.



I want everything to be perfect... just perfect.

I don't want pain. Or sorrow. Or loneliness. Or fear.

I don't want death. I don't want heart break.



I don't want to sit one more night in my bed crying because it hurts so bad that I can barely move.

I don't want one more unfaithful lover.

I don't want one more guy to think he can proceed when I say no.

I don't want one more friend to disappear when I expose a little piece of who I am.


I don't want it... any of it!




But such is life...



and I have chosen life.



Even still... I choose life!



So this letter is to you. To more than one of you, who have stood in my past, and without even knowing, maybe even without the best of intentions, have contributed to shaping me into the woman I am today.









You have made me feel tainted.

You have made me feel not good enough.

Not worthy.

Not loved.

Not wanted.


Maybe because I can't meet your spiritual standards. Or maybe because I can't meet your worldly needs.

Either way, you have made me feel less than what God has intended me to be. And for this, I want to hate you.

I don't know what you want, when you want it, where you want it, or why... but I can't meet it. I can't give it to you, please you, make you proud, or make you someone you're not. I can't make you love me, nor will I ever be the woman you want me to be, because I serve someone bigger than you will ever be!

I may have been used, abused, walked on, and walked over... but I am NOT abandoned.

I am NO less than she who has lived by every rule. I am NO less than he who has broken no vows. I am NO less than he or she who knows purity in it's purest form. I am NO less.

And likewise...

You are no better, nor are you any less, than me.

Our paths may be different.

I know our lives are different.

We are different.

Be we are no more, nor are we any less, than the other.



Outwardly, you may appear to have it all together, and people love you for it. They love you. I love that they love you. I do.

But hear me say, I see the you that nobody sees... the you that struggles. The you that is scared. The you that knows that even though you seem good enough, you know you aren't.

I see the you that's not worthy, and the you that's just plain stupid. I see the you that wants to be seen, but is too afraid to expose who that is.

I see you.

And hear me say,

I love you.

I love you!

I love you, because He loves me.

And you may have hurt me. You may have used me, abused me, walked on me, or over me...

but hear me say,

I forgive you.

And I love you.

I love you!



And all I ask is for the chance to just let me love you...

the way He has loved me.


He has asked me to hear Him say that He has seen the me that nobody sees... the me that struggles. The me that is scared. And the me that knows that even though I seem good enough, I know I'm not.

The me that's not worthy, and the me that's just plain stupid. He sees the me that wants to be seen, but is too afraid to expose who that is.

He sees me.

And He loves me.


And though I have hurt Him...

though I have used Him, abused Him, walked on Him, and over Him...



He has forgiven me!

And He loves me.

He loves me!



And all He has asked is for the chance to let Him love me...



even if it's only so that I might love you...



I will.

And I do.

O.M.G.

I can't eat.

I can't breathe.

I can't think.

I can't stand up straight.



When God reveals a bit of his plan for your life, it is so all consuming that you literally do not know what to do with yourself. At least that's how I feel.

I've been feeling God nudge me for a while, saying it's time to move on, which I am OK with, I just didn't know what to move on to.

I still sort of don't know... but I got a glimpse of what it looks like.

Just a glimpse, and I can barely breathe.

Barely breathe because I know it's not my will... it's His.

It's like this combination of being terrified and excited, and wanting so badly to follow Him, yet be sad to leave what is behind, and the whole idea of the unknown, yet the comfort in knowing that He knows...

it is... intense... to say the least.

Don't worry... I'm going to eat. I'm going to breathe. I may sit down, but I'm going to think this through.

I'm going to pray, and I'm going to ask you to pray with me, pray for me.

I'm terrified. Terrified because I realize I want to drop everything and follow Him... terrified because that may not look the way I want it to. Terrified because it's so unknown...

I'm terrified... and I love it! I love every bit of it... because I feel alive! I feel so alive!


BLAH!!!!!!!!

How to even end this, I don't even know. I just had to mark this date... the day that God has begun the process.



Someone once told me that God has something really big planned for me, and it changed my life... and my perspective on God as an active pursuer and not just an avid watcher.

And while I still may not know what exactly God has for me, I know that the process has begun!

And DAMN... it is exciting!


OH, My God is amazing!

spoken word. by amena brown