Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Isaiah 9:6

Isaiah 9:6
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

I first believed because Ed preached.

I started going to church with Steve when I realized he had not gone crazy and joined a cult that was going to steal all our money (what money?) and invite us to spend the rest of our lives in a compound. The church shared space with an exercise club. Can you really blame me that my mind headed down the cult trail?

During the week, sweaty women peered at their overweight reflections on the mirrored walls and imagined themselves in perfect bodies. On Sundays, we faced those same mirrors and considered eternity. And sometimes we checked out what others were wearing.

I started going to church with Steve after seeing him change for the better; while I was there I listened. I hid under my hair and cried. I hated those mirrors for months.

Ed preached Isaiah 9:6 for four weeks leading up to Christmas. I listened. I needed to hear that God generously gives wisdom without finding fault. I needed to hear that God is mighty and that does not mean He is mean. I needed to hear that God will always, always be there for me. My Abba. I desperately needed peace. Jesus.

Desperate girl
crying behind her hair
lifted her head and received.

***

Tonight, hundreds of miles from here, Ed's family and community gathered to mourn and to celebrate his life.

If I were there, if I had the guts to stand up in front of a group and speak, I'd say that I'm thankful Ed introduced me to my Jesus through Isaiah 9:6. I learned a lot from the Four Quaker Questions, and I love to use them on others. He was right - behind every face, there is a drama going on...

And there's more, but you know, I can't talk when I'm all choked up.



Saturday, February 6, 2010

Woodsmoke Gratefuls

267. Fluffy flakes

268. Shoveling husband

269. Sleeping until I'm ready to not sleep

270. Toasted bagel with butter

271. Coffee in the brown mug

272. Nothing urgent

273.
Three times catching the scent of frozen air with a taste of woodsmoke -
sometime last week
sometime today
sometime next week

Jeepers, Creepers

A couple of weeks ago someone decided that it was blog de-lurking day, and a bunch of bloggers asked their readers to de-lurk. I de-lurked at exactly one blog. I don't like de-lurking. I like lurking. When I get bored with a blog, I can stop lurking and no one is the wiser. Lurking is harmless right?

My kids no longer call people 'stalkers'. They use the word 'creeper'. I guess you could say I am a bit of a blog creeper, but in a good way. I don't have much time for commenting and making blog-friends and all that, so read-only is all I have for some blogs.

Anyway, those of us brave enough to de-lurk were supposed to tell her (among other things) when and where we had heard of her blog. I honestly cannot remember when I found her blog. I cannot remember when I found a lot of the blogs I read. I do know HOW I find a lot of blogs though. I subscribe using Google Reader, and Google is my own personal creeper. Google knows more about me (and you) than me (and you). For example, my friend Google asked me this morning if I wanted to put a couple of events on my Google Calendar based on dates I had written IN AN EMAIL. I did want to, and I did put them on my calendar. Thank you, my organized friend. I also feel a bit creeped out, and I am starting to wonder if I want to be your friend.

Google Reader has a 'Recommendations' tab that uses info from the blogs I read to see what type of blogs they are and what they all are reading to recommend more blogs for me to read. I've found some interesting reads that way. Those are the ones I lurk. I suppose that's how I found the de-lurking blog. I liked her writing and related to her struggles and I stayed. Sounds kind of creepy, huh?

I also find blogs through the people's comments on other blogs. I made most of my blog-friends that way. I appreciated their comment somewhere and I started reading their blog. I suppose those people seem more approachable to me and I have more courage to comment and begin to build a friendship. I have a few blog-friends. I've neglected them lately. I'm sorry.

I also have friends who blog. I believe that our friendships are enriched by knowing and sometimes talking about the things we write.

The other day I noticed that my own blog's subscribership - Blogger does not like that word, but I do - had spiked. While I wasn't paying attention, it zoomed out of the low 20's to the mid-20's. Whoa! What happened? I looked at the analytics that Steve set up for me a couple years ago, and noticed that a lot (ok, nearly all) of the traffic came from 'Next Blog'. People (like me) who use Blogger have a link at the top of their blog to go to the next blog. I have no idea how this works, this choosing of the next, but I do know that I have been 'next' to a lot of blogs lately. I do not click 'Next Blog'. It's a scary box, and I don't want to open it (again).

Steve says the 'Next Blog' link had been removed from Blogger for a while, and then reappeared recently. I guess that's why I have the new traffic at my blog. People who visit by that road stay for an average of 0 seconds. I guess I'm not offering enough 'WOW!' or 'EEK!'

I guess they must not be looking for 'HMM...' which is all I have to offer.

So, are you a creeper? When and how did you get here? Care to de-lurk?

Saturday, January 23, 2010

gratefuls on a saturday morning

263. Basking in morning sunshine.

264. A sweet song.

265. Togetherness.

266. Having no agenda.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Haiti

I type and backspace over it. I restate. I backspace. The annoying upsy downsy line of the cursor flashes. Flashes. Flashes. | | |

I have something to say and I don't know what it is. I have something to do and I don't know what it is. I don't know yet.

Ready.
|
Set.
|
Go.
|

My journey to Haiti began long before I arrived, and has not ended. Never will.

I don't know when it began. Here's what I remember.

There were news stories. There were stories from Steve's childhood of a former neighbor. There are people I know.

There were hurricanes. A blog. There was another that embedded a news story in February 2009 of how Haitians are eating dirt baked into cookies to fill their stomachs.

There was a stirring. Prayer. A phone call received. Another made. There was a connection. Decisions. Immunizations. There was action.

There was travel. Worship. Work. Play. Laughter. Dust. Beans and rice. Braids, some of them reddish from malnutrition.

There was an earthquake.

There is now.

There are many ways to help.

Here's one.

Grateful #262. "My" people in Haiti are ok.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

New Year Gratefuls

258. A new decade, a new year.
259. Dry spells, because the new green that follows is sweeter than that which preceded the dusty brown.
260. My eyes on her eyes.
261. Yes, when no question has been asked or thought.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

"...she was counted too"

There are moments with my kids that sneak up unexpected-like on an ordinary day and parade by with a slight wave or a faint smile of acknowledgment. Then, if I am fortunate, they wake me up early so that I will savor them. This one woke me today.

El got a letter yesterday from Margaret, her eight year old sponsored child in Kenya. Margaret's letters are dictated so this one is filled with quotations. "She says" this and "she asks" that and in the end, "Bye, bye and God bless you," she concludes.

This part - "She informs you that in Kenya last month there was a census where people were counted and she was counted too. "Have you ever heard of a census?" she asks." - got the biggest 'awww' from El and prompted her to write back immediately. El told Margaret that she first learned of censuses when he learned the story about Jesus' birth. She told her she was glad that Margaret was counted in the census.

So sweet. She was really saying that Margaret matters to her.

She counts.

Grateful #257