You know what sucks about being a parent? Enforcing consequences. I feel like a class 1 ogre for doing what it is I'm supposed to do as a parent.
Summer has been missing her library book for several days now, and we've had no idea where it's been. But I've been pretty lazy about making her find it. But today is Thursday, and tomorrow is library day. So once she got home from school, I made it pretty clear that she would be doing nothing until her book was found. So she looked a little, and then decided that, oh well, her book was just gone. I was furios at this display! Just last weekend, she lost her wrapping paper sales fundraiser envelope at her dad's house, and I was left to scramble and figure out who ordered what at last minute, because nobody could find it. Then this, a library book, lost with no worries. Well, I made it clear that if she didn't find it, she would not be going to play in her soccer game this weekend, or be able to go to her playdate with her friend. Needless to say, this got her in the searching and cleaning mode.
This was supposed to be a special weekend for her. Since I'm going to be gone at the women's retreat this weekend, I set it up with her friend's grandmother to pick Summer up and take her to the game. After the game, Summer was going to go to the grandma's house to go swimming, and they were also going to go to the Harvest Fair together.
We turned the house upside down. My room is fairly clean as a result of going through everything and putting it in the right order. But the book never came up. And Summer began to panic, and tried to barter with me to change the punishment to no TV for a month. This is a case of coming up with the right punishment because it really means something. But it also sucks because I came up with a punishment that really means something.
I had to call the grandmother tonight and let her know that Summer would unfortunately not be joining them this weekend. The grandmother was shocked when she realized I was also taking Summer's soccer game away. The tone of her voice made it clear that she thought I was a horrible parent because I was doing so. The snobbish parent in me thought about how mismannered Summer's friend is on a regular basis because she has no boundaries whatsoever. But it still doesn't change that I would give anything to have actually chosen a different punishment to begin with, because I know I cannot give in on the punishment I start with.
The good news is that it is very likely that Summer has learned something here, and that is to be more responsible with her things. If she has learned her lesson, her library book will be kept in one place, and things of importance will not be shuffled away and lost in the clutter. And I may have done my job as a parent, but I feel like I'm being punished too.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Hurricane Mission Pictures
Preparing for the mission.
On the way to Louisiana, we had to make use of the rest stops. It was pretty comical being the little guy for once in my big honking van against these big rigs! This was in Arizona, the state with the cleanest rest stops and most beautiful highways, scenery, and overpasses. Of course, it also lacks people and businesses, but you can't have it all!
Donated RV from Dot and Bobby Chance being put to use by Pastor Troy Bohn and his wife in New Orleans, Louisiana. 1 other RV was donated, and two others were lent out for 3 other pastoral families.
This shows the debris that was swept up on top of the Baptist school next to us from the waters. The whole area was still pretty damp.
These are some of the donations that had been collected.
This is probably half, if not less than half, of the shoes that they had to give out to these families in need.
This is only one of the rooms that families could "shop" from. Families were allowed one shopping cart per household. They were only allowed to take a small amount of things, such as 4 rolls of toilet paper or one package of diapers, to accomodate for all the other families in need. Think about how much toilet paper you use in your house, and think of a household that holds more than one family and is only allowed 4 rolls of toilet paper. Never take anything for granted!
Pastor Troy Bohn praying for one of the wonderful women I was fortunate to meet this day.
Praise at its most powerful and finest. These people praised God as if they had everything they ever needed in their possession.
On the way to Biloxi: Can anyone find the McDonald's sign?
Biloxi, Mississippi. A house reduced to just its roof.
This house was moved into the street.
This "Good Times" boat was taken all the way inland from the water, taking telephone lines with it.
Notice the water line.
Another moved house. Match up the stairs and the front door, and that's how the house used to be intact.
More destruction...
"Bread will rise again. It kneads time."
We found the Red Cross! Apparently their ONE truck was lost in Biloxi!
Biloxi also held several Salvation Army camps for supplies. These guys were awesome! They collected our water we brought, and then hugged us and prayed for US! When we delivered the water, people came from out of nowhere to collect. It was almost gone when we pulled away.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Hurricane Mission
So, it's taken me a little while to get my story out here. Let me start out by saying a lot of people have been patting me on the back and telling me how proud they are of me for going to New Orleans and delivering supplies. First off, a verse that ran through my head was Psalm 115:1 "Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness." Second of all, I do not feel I did anything. At least, I didn't do enough. And if I felt helpless before in what I could do to help out in the devestation Hurricane Katrina left behind, I feel even more so as I have returned to my comfortable home and left all those people back there to endure the aftermath of the storm, and then another in its tails. There is so much need over there, and of course it needs many hands to help. But my hands barely made a dent.
After traveling since Thursday afternoon, we got to the Celebration Church in New Orleans at around 1:30 am, 3:30 am Texas time. We had already noticed the humidity in Texas, but the stench really became apparent once we set foot outside of our van that early morning. In the dark hours, it was hard to see anything, but we did notice the piles of garbage lining the streets, and the debris on the top of the building next to us. We were exhausted, but alert and jazzed at having made it, and wondered what the next day would bring us and how we could help out.
3 1/2 hours later, at 7 am Texas time, we were awakened by Todd and Pastor Alex, who are part of the pastoral staff with Pastor Troy Bohn. They knocked on my window, and I awoke with a start. They must have been inwardly laughing as I woke from a dead sleep and immediately jumped from my seat, opened the door, and gave them both huge hugs. My parents were a little less enthusiastic at waking so early, but quickly shed their sleep and joined in our welcome party. Alex and Todd pointed us in the direction of the bathrooms. And when we came back to the car, they were already unloading. We quickly pitched in. These men were tireless!
We met several other members of the church, and their families, and got to hear their stories. One family had just given their daughter her very own room for the first time, which was promptly lost in the flooding. Another young girl had bought her first bike with money she had been saving with her allowance. It was also lost. Homes were gone, or extremely damaged from the waters and the mold that was growing rapidly from the moisture and heat. We heard so much. My mom was completely overwhelmed by all of this, as the woman who was talking acted like this was just a way of life. My mom had to disappear for awhile. I was overwhlemed by the great faith that was present by every single person I had talked to.
Being that this was Sunday, there were no deliveries and very little work to do. We had originally decided to stay the whole day and be of help, but with no work, we instead decided to stay for the church service, and then travel onward with whatever supplies we could to my dad's hometown of Biloxi, Mississippi. We felt like staying we would be more in the way and taking up their small supply of resources they had set aside for those who really needed them. We were able to take showers in the gym of the Baptist School next to us, the first showers in 3 days. Of course, the shower only "cleaned our sweat", as Pastor Troy pointed out it would, because we were immediately sticky from the moist heat that enveloped the area. We helped sort supplies in the gym until it was time for church. Church was at 11 am, with old and new songs being sung by heavenly voices. Pastor Troy then talked to all who were there, and gave my parents and me recognition for having traveled all that way to bring supplies and be of support. I was embarassed, because I really didn't believe we had done that much. God had made the trip easy and effortless, and we had even enjoyed traveling. Afterwards, we got the opportunity to greet others. One woman was obviously hungry for the spirit, and I got to talk with her and pray for her. Others expressed how blessed they were.
Pastor Troy's brother (?) led the service, and gave a powerful sermon on revival, and on where our riches are. My parents were very moved and inspired by this. At the end the pastors went around praying for every single person one by one. I was prayed for, and I couldn't believe that they would offer their prayers for me when I wanted for nothing. Here they were, unsure of the exact conditions of their homes, and were praying for a girl who was fortunate to be able to return to her intact home in several days time. Like I said, I was overwhelmed.
Afterwards we were all given a delicious meal of hamburgers and french fries, and the opportunity to receive tetanus shots. I declined :-). When we left, more prayers were said for us and our journey, and the water we were bringing to Biloxi was blessed. We left with full hearts and exploding souls.
I was nervous on the way to Biloxi. Coming to New Orleans, we were confident because we were meeting with Christians in an organized fashion. In Biloxi, there was no specific destination or order. I wasn't sure what our safety would be, if we were heading to a dangerous place filled with desperate people. But upon arriving, it was clear that most of the town had been evacuated. But it was sad seeing the ones who had stayed behind. They were like nomads, not of this country. I can't even describe them. Military had taken over the town, being taken around by the truckload. A stop point existed at the edge of the city, requiring proof of ID and proof that we were either military or were delivering supplies. We carried our blessed water, and were allowed through with no trouble. But I felt guilty as I pulled out my camera to capture the destruction that lay all around me. Houses were reduced to rubble, or were just a roof. Some intact houses were moved by the surge onto their neighbors property so that they lay crooked all over the land. Some were pushed into the street. One boat, ironically named "Good Times", traveled all the way inland, taking telephone wires with it. Billboards were twisted up, stripped of whatever their sign used to be. Garbage and debris covered the ground. Some Vietnamese men were already attempting to rebuild, board by board, and it seemed an impossible task from where we stood. We offered them water, but they said they had gotten enough food and water from others passing them out. I did see two Red Cross vehicles, and two Salvation Army points. After several more attempts to give out water to the few in this ghost town, we ended up traveling back to the first Salvation Army point we saw. There we say two black men direting delivery trucks. We asked if we could donate the waters there, and they were so greatful! They helped us unload, and almost immediately people started appearing from nowhere to gather the cases of water up for their homes. It brought tears to our eyes to see such desperation in some of these people's eyes, thought they barely looked at us. The "Army" men prayed with us, and offered us an arm and hug embrace, the kind you give a brother. Again, we were full.
We felt so blessed to have experienced this, and feel that we came away with way more than we offered. And this is why I feel guilty. These victims of the Hurricane gave to us more than we gave to them. And even more, I want to reach out to them, and pray that all of the mess, destruction, hunger, and hopelessness will be wiped away.
Oh, and one more thing. Our van, which we had been so worried about taking in this trip, handled the journey like a pro. We traveled a total of 4,896.4 miles, from Thrusday to Thursday.
Several blessings bestowed upon us: Rohnert Park Transmissions fixed up our old van for only parts, no labor. U-Haul offered us a price break on a trailor, though we ended up using our own after its electrical was fixed. A woman in San Antonio, Texas heard about our mission, and gave us an enormous bag of clothes she just so happened to have for the victims of the Hurricane. Many people blessed us along the way as they heard about our mission. And of course, God carried our vehicle to and from the Gulf Coast.
I'll be posting pictures soon in their own post. God bless!
After traveling since Thursday afternoon, we got to the Celebration Church in New Orleans at around 1:30 am, 3:30 am Texas time. We had already noticed the humidity in Texas, but the stench really became apparent once we set foot outside of our van that early morning. In the dark hours, it was hard to see anything, but we did notice the piles of garbage lining the streets, and the debris on the top of the building next to us. We were exhausted, but alert and jazzed at having made it, and wondered what the next day would bring us and how we could help out.
3 1/2 hours later, at 7 am Texas time, we were awakened by Todd and Pastor Alex, who are part of the pastoral staff with Pastor Troy Bohn. They knocked on my window, and I awoke with a start. They must have been inwardly laughing as I woke from a dead sleep and immediately jumped from my seat, opened the door, and gave them both huge hugs. My parents were a little less enthusiastic at waking so early, but quickly shed their sleep and joined in our welcome party. Alex and Todd pointed us in the direction of the bathrooms. And when we came back to the car, they were already unloading. We quickly pitched in. These men were tireless!
We met several other members of the church, and their families, and got to hear their stories. One family had just given their daughter her very own room for the first time, which was promptly lost in the flooding. Another young girl had bought her first bike with money she had been saving with her allowance. It was also lost. Homes were gone, or extremely damaged from the waters and the mold that was growing rapidly from the moisture and heat. We heard so much. My mom was completely overwhelmed by all of this, as the woman who was talking acted like this was just a way of life. My mom had to disappear for awhile. I was overwhlemed by the great faith that was present by every single person I had talked to.
Being that this was Sunday, there were no deliveries and very little work to do. We had originally decided to stay the whole day and be of help, but with no work, we instead decided to stay for the church service, and then travel onward with whatever supplies we could to my dad's hometown of Biloxi, Mississippi. We felt like staying we would be more in the way and taking up their small supply of resources they had set aside for those who really needed them. We were able to take showers in the gym of the Baptist School next to us, the first showers in 3 days. Of course, the shower only "cleaned our sweat", as Pastor Troy pointed out it would, because we were immediately sticky from the moist heat that enveloped the area. We helped sort supplies in the gym until it was time for church. Church was at 11 am, with old and new songs being sung by heavenly voices. Pastor Troy then talked to all who were there, and gave my parents and me recognition for having traveled all that way to bring supplies and be of support. I was embarassed, because I really didn't believe we had done that much. God had made the trip easy and effortless, and we had even enjoyed traveling. Afterwards, we got the opportunity to greet others. One woman was obviously hungry for the spirit, and I got to talk with her and pray for her. Others expressed how blessed they were.
Pastor Troy's brother (?) led the service, and gave a powerful sermon on revival, and on where our riches are. My parents were very moved and inspired by this. At the end the pastors went around praying for every single person one by one. I was prayed for, and I couldn't believe that they would offer their prayers for me when I wanted for nothing. Here they were, unsure of the exact conditions of their homes, and were praying for a girl who was fortunate to be able to return to her intact home in several days time. Like I said, I was overwhelmed.
Afterwards we were all given a delicious meal of hamburgers and french fries, and the opportunity to receive tetanus shots. I declined :-). When we left, more prayers were said for us and our journey, and the water we were bringing to Biloxi was blessed. We left with full hearts and exploding souls.
I was nervous on the way to Biloxi. Coming to New Orleans, we were confident because we were meeting with Christians in an organized fashion. In Biloxi, there was no specific destination or order. I wasn't sure what our safety would be, if we were heading to a dangerous place filled with desperate people. But upon arriving, it was clear that most of the town had been evacuated. But it was sad seeing the ones who had stayed behind. They were like nomads, not of this country. I can't even describe them. Military had taken over the town, being taken around by the truckload. A stop point existed at the edge of the city, requiring proof of ID and proof that we were either military or were delivering supplies. We carried our blessed water, and were allowed through with no trouble. But I felt guilty as I pulled out my camera to capture the destruction that lay all around me. Houses were reduced to rubble, or were just a roof. Some intact houses were moved by the surge onto their neighbors property so that they lay crooked all over the land. Some were pushed into the street. One boat, ironically named "Good Times", traveled all the way inland, taking telephone wires with it. Billboards were twisted up, stripped of whatever their sign used to be. Garbage and debris covered the ground. Some Vietnamese men were already attempting to rebuild, board by board, and it seemed an impossible task from where we stood. We offered them water, but they said they had gotten enough food and water from others passing them out. I did see two Red Cross vehicles, and two Salvation Army points. After several more attempts to give out water to the few in this ghost town, we ended up traveling back to the first Salvation Army point we saw. There we say two black men direting delivery trucks. We asked if we could donate the waters there, and they were so greatful! They helped us unload, and almost immediately people started appearing from nowhere to gather the cases of water up for their homes. It brought tears to our eyes to see such desperation in some of these people's eyes, thought they barely looked at us. The "Army" men prayed with us, and offered us an arm and hug embrace, the kind you give a brother. Again, we were full.
We felt so blessed to have experienced this, and feel that we came away with way more than we offered. And this is why I feel guilty. These victims of the Hurricane gave to us more than we gave to them. And even more, I want to reach out to them, and pray that all of the mess, destruction, hunger, and hopelessness will be wiped away.
Oh, and one more thing. Our van, which we had been so worried about taking in this trip, handled the journey like a pro. We traveled a total of 4,896.4 miles, from Thrusday to Thursday.
Several blessings bestowed upon us: Rohnert Park Transmissions fixed up our old van for only parts, no labor. U-Haul offered us a price break on a trailor, though we ended up using our own after its electrical was fixed. A woman in San Antonio, Texas heard about our mission, and gave us an enormous bag of clothes she just so happened to have for the victims of the Hurricane. Many people blessed us along the way as they heard about our mission. And of course, God carried our vehicle to and from the Gulf Coast.
I'll be posting pictures soon in their own post. God bless!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Donate....
I am working on my story of my mission to New Orleans. In the meantime, please help. Pastor Troy and the R.A.V.E.N. team have lost their cooks, and are running out of food. To donate, click on the link, which will take you directly to the Raven team's PayPal page. Put "Food for the R.A.V.E.N. team" in the description line so they know exactly what your donation is for.
DONATE!!!
For more information, visit the R.A.V.E.N. team's website at BigGrace.com
For more information, visit the R.A.V.E.N. team's website at BigGrace.com
Friday, September 23, 2005
Autumn's Angel
Today's my angel's 3rd birthday. But it's a blessed day. I dropped off the kids at school, then went to the store and picked out a pretty autumn bouquet of flowers and a butterfly balloon, then spent some time talking with him at his gravesite. I never feel him there, though. I feel him when I see other kids that are around the age he would have been, or when I see a newborn baby, or hear of another pregnancy. I see him in my son's smile and my daughter's eyes. I feel him on a calm autumn day, or when the world is silent around me. I don't think of him often, but every now and then he enters my thoughts as if to let me know he's there and is ok and happy. And he now makes me smile. He isn't at that gravesite, he's in the air, the trees, the flowers. He's in Heaven, in the arms of Jesus, and wants for nothing. He is safe, healthy, and happier than I could ever imagine.
Happy birthday Connor, my autumn angel. I love you and will see you again one day.
Happy birthday Connor, my autumn angel. I love you and will see you again one day.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
I'm Home!
Got home at 2 PM, just in time to unload the van and then meet my daughter from school. After catching up and doing our nails (hey, we're girls, remember?), we went and picked up Lucas from school. We all went out for smoothies at the Juice Shack, and then to her soccer game. There she kicked the other team's butts, with a score of 0-0. :-) Then on to the store to pick up dinner and some other groceries, since we were cleaned out. Made pizza for dinner, gave them each showers, ironed Summer's clothes for tomorrow, then finally got them in bed late at 9:30 pm. Now I'm getting started on my laundry with a face mask on, and catching up on the computer while waiting to put in the next load. I am pooped! As soon as the next load goes in, I am going to bed.
I just caught up on UGO4God, and found out that Lori and the gang were not able to get a flight home, and are now driving home. Now, driving home for my family, though tiring, was an awesome experience. But this is completely different for them. They will be joined on the roads by thousands of people also trying to flee the storm, so the roads will be jam packed. Gas is starting to run out. And the weather is unpredictable. Please pray for them.
Also, please pray for those in Rita's path, especially those families who have already been hurt by Katrina, and cannot afford anything else to happen to them. When we left Pastor Troy and his congregation, their homes were RVs. Their homes before that are under water or molding. And it sounds to me like they were still there when Lori and the team left. Please pray for all of them: Pastor Troy and the Raven team, the residents of the gulf areas about to be hit, and all the poeple over there who are helping via the Red Cross, Salvation Army, religious groups, military, and anyone else.
I will have a full entry on my trip soon, but need time to upload pictures and such. We didn't stay long, but this experience added something more to my views on life, and it definitely changed my parents! But for now, my wash is ready to be changed out, and I am ready to go to bed. Night, y'all!
I just caught up on UGO4God, and found out that Lori and the gang were not able to get a flight home, and are now driving home. Now, driving home for my family, though tiring, was an awesome experience. But this is completely different for them. They will be joined on the roads by thousands of people also trying to flee the storm, so the roads will be jam packed. Gas is starting to run out. And the weather is unpredictable. Please pray for them.
Also, please pray for those in Rita's path, especially those families who have already been hurt by Katrina, and cannot afford anything else to happen to them. When we left Pastor Troy and his congregation, their homes were RVs. Their homes before that are under water or molding. And it sounds to me like they were still there when Lori and the team left. Please pray for all of them: Pastor Troy and the Raven team, the residents of the gulf areas about to be hit, and all the poeple over there who are helping via the Red Cross, Salvation Army, religious groups, military, and anyone else.
I will have a full entry on my trip soon, but need time to upload pictures and such. We didn't stay long, but this experience added something more to my views on life, and it definitely changed my parents! But for now, my wash is ready to be changed out, and I am ready to go to bed. Night, y'all!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Gone, Going, Gone
We're leaving today, in a couple of hours! Prayers accepted! And if you have scripture for me, go ahead and post it here. That would be much appreciated. I'll be able to check my email from my phone, so it would be nice to receive some daily inspiration. I'm actually really jazzed right now. The kids are off to school, with their destinations this week all mapped out. Everything at home is taken care of, and I feel a sense of peace about this whole thing. I love it!
You all take care, and I'll see you next week! God Bless!
You all take care, and I'll see you next week! God Bless!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
1 day to go
We leave tomorrow for Louisiana. I'm a little nervous. I'm not so sure what to expect, and I have moments when I am wondering what I was thinking. And I'm mostly nervous about leaving my kids behind. Just thinking about it is making me fearful, panicky, and overwhelmed. I'm scared to leave them, not because I think something awful will happen to any of us, but because I have never left them for this length of time so far away. I'm worried about their daily schedule: Will Summer get her homework and daily reading done? Will their hair and teeth get brushed? Will they have clean clothes for every school day? Will they go to bed on time, and get to school on time? Will they eat the right kinds of food? Will they receive enough attention at their other house? And I worry about all the things that are on the schedule this week: Will they make it on time for soccer pictures this Saturday, and will they look ok for these pictures? Will they be able to make it to all the soccer games that are scheduled? Will their snacks that they are scheduled to bring be sufficient? Will I make it home before Summer's school picture day next week? And most of all: Will they miss me enough, but not too much?
I have a strong feeling that God has called me to make this trip. This is very important, and I have never felt so called to do something in my life. And part of this calling is making this trip with my parents. I am very anxious to see how God is going to work throughout this trip, and am prepared to witness many miracles. And for this calling, and the fact that we are being counted on and have made the commitment to take this trip, I will not give up. But leaving my kids is proving to be a very emotional thing to do, especially since I don't have a husband at home to care for them, and they can't just stay in the comfort of the home I live in. And I'm finding that unless I just give this up to God, and have faith that everything will be okay, I will continue to worry and stress and cry.
This is it, tomorrow's the big day, and we'll all survive. I do not think my fears are irrational, but I am being a bit silly since God is watching over all of us. And it's only a week. I need to get over myself and start thinking about the sacrifices that these people in the southern states have made unwillingly. This is not about me.
I have a strong feeling that God has called me to make this trip. This is very important, and I have never felt so called to do something in my life. And part of this calling is making this trip with my parents. I am very anxious to see how God is going to work throughout this trip, and am prepared to witness many miracles. And for this calling, and the fact that we are being counted on and have made the commitment to take this trip, I will not give up. But leaving my kids is proving to be a very emotional thing to do, especially since I don't have a husband at home to care for them, and they can't just stay in the comfort of the home I live in. And I'm finding that unless I just give this up to God, and have faith that everything will be okay, I will continue to worry and stress and cry.
This is it, tomorrow's the big day, and we'll all survive. I do not think my fears are irrational, but I am being a bit silly since God is watching over all of us. And it's only a week. I need to get over myself and start thinking about the sacrifices that these people in the southern states have made unwillingly. This is not about me.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Spam comments
There has been quite a bit of spam comments lately, and I'm noticing on mine and other blogs I read. As much as I love receiving comments on my blog, as it means I am read and maybe even loved, I am deleting any spam comments I receive. I am not deleting other comments though. I just find spam comments uncool and unnecessary on my blog. Thanks!
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Mississippi and Louisiana or BUST
This Thursday, September 15th, My parents and I are leaving for Covington, Louisiana and Biloxi, Mississippi with supplies, manpower, and prayers for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. We will be driving down there (2 1/2 days), stay for 2 days, then drive back (2 1/2 days). All in all we'll be gone for a week.
For those of you local to Sonoma County, and want to drop off supplies, please email me: CD5338@yahoo.com
I will let you know where you can drop off. We need diapers, baby formula, non-perishable food, water, toiletries, anything that is necessary for day to day living. These people have NOTHING! Anything you can spare would be much appreciated. All drop offs must be made by Wednesday 5 pm. Visit http://www.ugo4god.blogspot.com/ for updates on needs, and how each team is doing on their mission. Visit http://www.ugo4god.com/, our group's web page, and for donating.
Your prayers and support are much appreciated! Thank you!
-Crissi
For those of you local to Sonoma County, and want to drop off supplies, please email me: CD5338@yahoo.com
I will let you know where you can drop off. We need diapers, baby formula, non-perishable food, water, toiletries, anything that is necessary for day to day living. These people have NOTHING! Anything you can spare would be much appreciated. All drop offs must be made by Wednesday 5 pm. Visit http://www.ugo4god.blogspot.com/ for updates on needs, and how each team is doing on their mission. Visit http://www.ugo4god.com/, our group's web page, and for donating.
Your prayers and support are much appreciated! Thank you!
-Crissi
Friday, September 09, 2005
Hurt and suffering and love
I apparently have relatives over in Mississippi, but I can't say I really know anyone personally over there. But being that my dad was born in Biloxi, Mississippi, and my grandparents made their life over there before moving to Connecticut, and then to here, has made our family watch the news a little bit closer. Before this happened, this is where my dad kept saying he wanted to move to. Prices are low, jazz is playing all over the place, and people live simple lives sipping lemonade on their front porches. This was my dad's kind of living. So to see his beloved town wiped off the map has hurt him to the core. And it's hard when something like this happens as far as faith goes, because it just hurts so much to see the destruction and the pain it has caused for those people who lost everything, and you wonder why God has to let things like this happen. Someone left a comment on my blog a couple days ago about my God being mean. And I didn't ignore this comment, I just needed to ponder it for a bit.
I do not believe my God is mean. I have been given things, then had them snatched away, like my son, and it took suffering through that and then emerging triumphant on the other side to see God's positive works in all things. What has happened in Biloxi, and in all the other areas, is heartwrenching. It is unimaginably devastating. I cannot even fathom what our own team of helpers are about to witness as they get closer and closer to Louisiana to be of aid in this mess. I cannot empathize with those that lost everything in the blink of an eye, because I was given a home to live in when I lost mine, and gained more than I lost. But when you look closely, you see a little bit of green life right there amongst the dirt and the evil and the suffering. I received another comment on that same post from a diarist I lurk on, saying that he lost his aunt and uncle in this tragedy. But his post didn't speak of God's unfairness. It spoke of what is going on all around this nation. Something so simple as remembering what it was like to pray. And while I've been waiting and waiting to find the perfect words to rebut against claims that "my" God is mean, this was all I needed. And this is what the miracles all start from. Praying.
A church still meets regularly, praising God for being alive even though they have lost everything. An 18 year caring for a group of children until they are reunited with their family, and all allowed something as wonderful as getting their hair done for free in a salon. News reporters laying down their microphones and saving lives. A group of would be thugs, averted by the police when they were made aware of the destruction around them, and changing their tactics to include rescuing others rather than looting. A woman happy as can be, praising God for blessing her, as her home is almost completely under water. People reaching deep into their pockets, giving until it hurts. Others taking time out of their lives to actually be there in the southern states, wanting to do anything to ease the pain of our brothers and sisters. People offering their homes or hotel rooms to house those fortunate enough to make it out of there, and not giving a time limit. And praying. Lots and lots of praying.
Jesus is all over the TV. Jesus is in our minds. Even when we are asking him "why", we are acknowledging his presence. And why? I am still only human, I am not God. I do not have all the answers. But something tells me a small portion of it is the humanity that has come out of it. A community, a state, a country, a world!, are all being pulled together in this time of crisis. People are counting their blessings. Suddenly, in this huge world, we are all revealed to be small, and we are all equal. And the hurt touches us in our hearts, even when we are away from the severity of this destruction.
My God is not mean. My God is love. And I know this because through all of this I have seen so much love pouring out of this world.
I do not believe my God is mean. I have been given things, then had them snatched away, like my son, and it took suffering through that and then emerging triumphant on the other side to see God's positive works in all things. What has happened in Biloxi, and in all the other areas, is heartwrenching. It is unimaginably devastating. I cannot even fathom what our own team of helpers are about to witness as they get closer and closer to Louisiana to be of aid in this mess. I cannot empathize with those that lost everything in the blink of an eye, because I was given a home to live in when I lost mine, and gained more than I lost. But when you look closely, you see a little bit of green life right there amongst the dirt and the evil and the suffering. I received another comment on that same post from a diarist I lurk on, saying that he lost his aunt and uncle in this tragedy. But his post didn't speak of God's unfairness. It spoke of what is going on all around this nation. Something so simple as remembering what it was like to pray. And while I've been waiting and waiting to find the perfect words to rebut against claims that "my" God is mean, this was all I needed. And this is what the miracles all start from. Praying.
A church still meets regularly, praising God for being alive even though they have lost everything. An 18 year caring for a group of children until they are reunited with their family, and all allowed something as wonderful as getting their hair done for free in a salon. News reporters laying down their microphones and saving lives. A group of would be thugs, averted by the police when they were made aware of the destruction around them, and changing their tactics to include rescuing others rather than looting. A woman happy as can be, praising God for blessing her, as her home is almost completely under water. People reaching deep into their pockets, giving until it hurts. Others taking time out of their lives to actually be there in the southern states, wanting to do anything to ease the pain of our brothers and sisters. People offering their homes or hotel rooms to house those fortunate enough to make it out of there, and not giving a time limit. And praying. Lots and lots of praying.
Jesus is all over the TV. Jesus is in our minds. Even when we are asking him "why", we are acknowledging his presence. And why? I am still only human, I am not God. I do not have all the answers. But something tells me a small portion of it is the humanity that has come out of it. A community, a state, a country, a world!, are all being pulled together in this time of crisis. People are counting their blessings. Suddenly, in this huge world, we are all revealed to be small, and we are all equal. And the hurt touches us in our hearts, even when we are away from the severity of this destruction.
My God is not mean. My God is love. And I know this because through all of this I have seen so much love pouring out of this world.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
UGO4GOD, mission to Louisiana
If you haven't already, please check out UGO4GOD, a blog that is recording faith based missions, and is keeping track of the members of our church who are caravaning to Louisiana to offer their help as well as loads and loads of supplies (clothes, food, etc), as well as letting readers know what they can do or contribute to help. I was there this evening to help see off our first team, and felt so blessed to just be able to help load up the rest of the stuff at the Gonzalez' house. My prayers go out to our first team of four: Jimmy, Brian, and Rudy who started out on their mission today, and Gregory (who I believe is already there).
Please check out UGO4GOD. Offer your support, and let them know you're praying for them. God bless!
Please check out UGO4GOD. Offer your support, and let them know you're praying for them. God bless!
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Dear Jesus....
Dear Jesus,
Something happened here on earth this last week, pretty far from where I live, but pretty close at the same time. I'm confident you're aware of it too.
Lord, many of my brothers and sisters are suffering in the gulf states as their belongings, families, and lives are being stripped away by an "act of God". I read the newspaper stories, and watch the documentaries on TV, and it's hard to see the hope for these people. Their whole lives have been washed away by the waters. 
The land is drowned and dirty, bodies are being pushed aside by the barely living, parents are losing children, children are losing parents. Evil is lurking around every corner, smelling the air for fear and desperation, just like a dog that hunts for its next meal. The law is gone, the help and aid are not nearly enough, and the suffering are crying out to anything that can save them. I read of their misgivings, and I know that they need you to fill their voids, and that I have never truly suffered.
Lord, I have been taught many things as a Christian. The first is that you give, and you take away. All we have is yours to begin with. And as a Christian, I strive to live this way, though I have not been fully successful. And if I were to stand back and look at this as if reading a book, I could say these words with belief, and feel peace with just that. But upon closer look I see that these are regular people like myself who started out with even less than I have. And now they have nothing. Nothing.
Lord, I understand the purpose of suffering. I know that suffering allows us to be more open for you. Souls are saved when they suffer. Lost sheep find their way home. But why must it be so horrendous?
Why must little children become orphans, even see their parents die with their once innocent eyes? Why must the elderly and weak be beaten by this act of You? And why must they lose everything, and be without aid for days, wondering if they'll die in conditions that are barely liveable anyway? Why must they wade through waters of bodies, oil, trash, and waste? Does it really need to be so shocking and dismally bleak to save those who survived? 
Jesus, I am not blind. I do see the miracles at work. Despite the frustrations at how this was handled as a whole, I see people who could be unnafected by this leaving their comfortable lives to help a brother or sister they've never met in conditions that nobody wishes upon themselves. I know that more praying is going on down south than has been doen in a long time. I read the stories of would-be rebellers being employed by the law to save lives and help others. I see bonds being formed by people who never would have made eye contact before. I see countries dipping into their already small funds to donate money to this cause, regardless of their relationship with us. Even Cuba, Lord! This is something miraculous in itself! I hear of people opening up their homes for a family or two, wanting to be a part of relieving these people's suffering. 
But Lord, even knowing all this, and knowing you have a plan, my stubborness still wants to question you. Why did thousands of people have to die? How did the evil grow so much that men are raping the women who are suffering beside them, and people are shooting down helicopters carrying food? Why are we not helping more, contributing even more effort than we put in a war and "rebuilding" across the world? How can I live in a comfortable house, a comfortable bed, with a full belly, and a sense of security when there are still people out there who are alive and alone, cold and damp, desolate and empty with their last bit of hope running out?
Lord, I know I can never understand the ways of this world. But my frustration grows as I see us children of God destroying the world you created for us. I am frustrated that I see the apocolypse happening, as it has been for the last century or more, and still don't see where you will end it. There are so-called Christians claiming this is an act of anger about sin from you, or preventative measures for a gay celebration that would have taken place. Lord, I know you love us all regardless of who we are and who we love. I know that you do not strike out at us, but instead love us. I feel overwhelmed knowing that we can still make an even bigger mess of this life you've lovingly given us, and make all actions of the world a sign of our ideas placed on you. And I wish you would just come now, and end this life of suffering so that we can live without fear, hunger, depression, sin, human judgment and condemnation, or any other earthly things, for we will be with you and in your presence.
And I am frustrated that in a crisis like this I feel so helpless. I cry when I read the stories. I feel for those that are suffering and losing loved ones. But I am limited in how I can help. And I don't know what it is I can do, besides donating money and supplies, to help my brothers and sisters who are in so much need.
But Lord, you see the devestation. And though I have confusion over your purposes for allowing such devestation and destruction to take place, I am pretty sure you mourn with the rest of us over the inevitable pain it has caused.
I have no requests of you, Jesus. You must know what you're doing. I can't see something this traumatic happening without something big coming out of it. Is this just another blow that will leave us gasping for breath? Is this really our wake up call to knock off our American self-righteous crap and seek out peace? Will we ever see what your purpose is, or will that wait until later?
Until then, I am still your mostly faithful servant,
Crissi
Donate locally at:
~Sonoma County Red Cross. Specify National Disaster Relief Fund in “Notes.” Due to extremely heavy web traffic, this site may not always be accessible.
~Hope's Mission Outreach: Hurricane relief
-Online national: Donate to American Red Cross at Red Cross
MORE ORGANIZATIONS (click on links or call phone number if provided)
Charity Navigator: information on various charities and ways to donate to the relief effort.
AmeriCares
Episcopal Relief & Development: (800) 334-7626
United Methodist Committee on Relief: (800) 554-8583
Salvation Army: (800) SAL-ARMY
Catholic Charities: (800) 919-9338
FEMA Charity tips
NATIONAL VOLUNTARY ORGANIZATIONS
Active in Disaster
Louisiana Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
Operation Blessing: (800) 436-6348
America's Second Harvest: (800) 344-8070
Adventist Community Services: (800) 381-7171
Christian Disaster Response: (941) 956-5183 or (941) 551-9554
Christian Reformed World Relief Committee: (800) 848-5818
Church World Service: (800) 297-1516
Lutheran Disaster Response: (800) 638-3522
Presbyterian Disaster Assistance: (800) 872-3283
Southern Baptist Convention - Disaster Relief: (800) 462-8657, ext. 6440
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
The end of the vacation
God is good, isn't he? I've had the most blessed week! I spent Monday through Friday with the kids in San Diego at my sister's house. SD is my type of living. Beaches with actual warm weather and water you can stick more than a toe in, a laid back community that's way of life includes a guitar and a surfboard, and just the whole essence of what SoCal stands for. It was pretty awesome. I have been thirsting for a night beach party, and apparently that is a requirement out there. Once the sun sets, the fires are lit in the pits on the beach. People bring out their guitars and sing to anyone who will listen, and smiles are passed around like the world is family. The kids and I fell in love with San Diego this visit. Pictures will come soon, as soon as they develop. I forgot the digital camera, so we went the Kodak way.
Friday I came back, and after unpacking and getting the kids cleaned up and settled in their beds, I headed out for Gina's house. Apparently with her worship night, her house was the place to be! I felt so fortunate to have been able to experience the meditations that she put together, and it just blessed me. I can't believe this was the first one I went to, that I missed all the others. Well, now that they are on Fridays, I am excited that I will be able to attend more.
Saturday was busy with soccer and work. After Summer's game, I had to drag my poor kids all over Sonoma County to take pictures of houses. 18 houses to be exact, from Fountaingrove to Sebastopol. I took them out for ice cream first to butter them up, and then spent the next 2 1/2 hours taking pictures of mansions. I love it, but the kids hate it. Oh, but they were troopers. My last house was about 2 miles away from the Bodega Bay Arts and Wine festival, so on a whim we decided to head over there and check it out. It ended up being $10 to enter, when I was under the impression that it was free. But a nice couple handed me free tickets to get in. I let the kids go on the jumpy slide once in there, then I bored them by going booth to booth checking out all the interesting crafts and knick knacks. After that, we grabbed some McD's, rushed home and wolfed it down, and then headed back out for church. I don't even think I need to describe what a blessing church is in itself, especially now that I'm going to Saturday night services when a lot of my friends are going. Let's just say that it's like a drink of water when I am parched. I can feel a lot of restoration taking place inside of me, and it feels wonderful.
Today I spent the day at the Rennaisance Faire. The weather was perfect (this particular one was held in SF), the kids were perfect, the food and company were perfect. Everything was like clockwork. I especially can't get over how well the kids minded today! It was the perfect end to summer.
Tomorrow the kids start school again. Summertime's lazy days are now over, confined to only Saturday's with the kids. But this summer has been an absolute blast, I dare to say the best ever. I've dared to get out there, experience new things, get off my duff and show the kids and myself a good time. I've even discovered the most fun is had when it's spontaneous and unplanned. Life is good, and getting better everyday. Praise the Lord!
Friday I came back, and after unpacking and getting the kids cleaned up and settled in their beds, I headed out for Gina's house. Apparently with her worship night, her house was the place to be! I felt so fortunate to have been able to experience the meditations that she put together, and it just blessed me. I can't believe this was the first one I went to, that I missed all the others. Well, now that they are on Fridays, I am excited that I will be able to attend more.
Saturday was busy with soccer and work. After Summer's game, I had to drag my poor kids all over Sonoma County to take pictures of houses. 18 houses to be exact, from Fountaingrove to Sebastopol. I took them out for ice cream first to butter them up, and then spent the next 2 1/2 hours taking pictures of mansions. I love it, but the kids hate it. Oh, but they were troopers. My last house was about 2 miles away from the Bodega Bay Arts and Wine festival, so on a whim we decided to head over there and check it out. It ended up being $10 to enter, when I was under the impression that it was free. But a nice couple handed me free tickets to get in. I let the kids go on the jumpy slide once in there, then I bored them by going booth to booth checking out all the interesting crafts and knick knacks. After that, we grabbed some McD's, rushed home and wolfed it down, and then headed back out for church. I don't even think I need to describe what a blessing church is in itself, especially now that I'm going to Saturday night services when a lot of my friends are going. Let's just say that it's like a drink of water when I am parched. I can feel a lot of restoration taking place inside of me, and it feels wonderful.
Today I spent the day at the Rennaisance Faire. The weather was perfect (this particular one was held in SF), the kids were perfect, the food and company were perfect. Everything was like clockwork. I especially can't get over how well the kids minded today! It was the perfect end to summer.
Tomorrow the kids start school again. Summertime's lazy days are now over, confined to only Saturday's with the kids. But this summer has been an absolute blast, I dare to say the best ever. I've dared to get out there, experience new things, get off my duff and show the kids and myself a good time. I've even discovered the most fun is had when it's spontaneous and unplanned. Life is good, and getting better everyday. Praise the Lord!
Friday, August 12, 2005
Jerusalem Marketplace
I received a comment today on my "Single Girl" post, and it made me read the whole post again. Since that post, and since opening up to several people about these feelings, I've come to see quickly how the Lord might be using me in this. We all feel discoutraged in our walks, and our walks at times become fragile. I'm glad to be able to be of encouragement to others who feel alone in not being so strong at times. No one is alone in feeling this way, And it's encouraging to me, and I don't feel so unworthy, to know that there are others who need some boosting from time to time.
Speaking of boosts in faith, what a week! I helped out in our VBS program, "Jerusalem Marketplace", as one of the tribe leaders. There were 12 tribes of Israel, and we were Joseph. This week we learned what it was like to live in Jerusalem times, and at the time of Jesus' last week. My tribe was just so precious, all girls (except for an occasional appearance by my son, and by the little brother of one of the girls). We were to be a family for the week, and by the end of the week, we definitely were.
12 Tibes of Israel
3 of my girls
Singing praise
The marketplace was a place where we could buy things, and learn new crafts. We had a playyard where we learned Jewish games. And we also had synagogue where we learned religious rituals.
Rabbi Sam ;-)
Learning at Synagogue
Making bread at the marketplace bakery
But during all of this, we were hearing about Jesus. The first day we learned about the Messiah, how he was has come to Jerusalem to heal us and save us. The second day we hear about how he washed the feet of his disciples, teaching them about servitude. The third day he was arrested while praying. The fourth day he was crucified. And today, the fifth day, he rose from the dead.
By the time yesterday hit, it actually hit me hard to hear that Jesus had been crucified. One of the ladies ran up to us, and asked us if we had heard that her Lord had been crucified. And when I turned to my girls to ask if they had heard her, that Jesus had died, I felt like I wanted to cry! That's how real it felt. But it is real. He died for me, for us, so that we can join again. And today, "Jesus" made a special appearance at the very end. You should have seen the children! The little brother in my group, Drew, who is 3 years old, looked up at me with his big innocent eyes, and said, "Jesus is here!" He was so genuinely excited. And then Jesus came up and kissed him, and Drew had stars in his eyes, it took all I had not to burst out crying. But it felt like Jesus really was there, like we were witnessing a miracle. Sure it was a re-enactment, but it was wonderful feeling a fraction of what it must have felt like in those days, to see the Lord, and hear Him tell us how much he loves us.
This whole week was a lot of work. I am exhausted! But it was worth every second of it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat!
Speaking of boosts in faith, what a week! I helped out in our VBS program, "Jerusalem Marketplace", as one of the tribe leaders. There were 12 tribes of Israel, and we were Joseph. This week we learned what it was like to live in Jerusalem times, and at the time of Jesus' last week. My tribe was just so precious, all girls (except for an occasional appearance by my son, and by the little brother of one of the girls). We were to be a family for the week, and by the end of the week, we definitely were.
12 Tibes of Israel
3 of my girls
Singing praise
The marketplace was a place where we could buy things, and learn new crafts. We had a playyard where we learned Jewish games. And we also had synagogue where we learned religious rituals.
Rabbi Sam ;-)
Learning at Synagogue
Making bread at the marketplace bakery
But during all of this, we were hearing about Jesus. The first day we learned about the Messiah, how he was has come to Jerusalem to heal us and save us. The second day we hear about how he washed the feet of his disciples, teaching them about servitude. The third day he was arrested while praying. The fourth day he was crucified. And today, the fifth day, he rose from the dead.
By the time yesterday hit, it actually hit me hard to hear that Jesus had been crucified. One of the ladies ran up to us, and asked us if we had heard that her Lord had been crucified. And when I turned to my girls to ask if they had heard her, that Jesus had died, I felt like I wanted to cry! That's how real it felt. But it is real. He died for me, for us, so that we can join again. And today, "Jesus" made a special appearance at the very end. You should have seen the children! The little brother in my group, Drew, who is 3 years old, looked up at me with his big innocent eyes, and said, "Jesus is here!" He was so genuinely excited. And then Jesus came up and kissed him, and Drew had stars in his eyes, it took all I had not to burst out crying. But it felt like Jesus really was there, like we were witnessing a miracle. Sure it was a re-enactment, but it was wonderful feeling a fraction of what it must have felt like in those days, to see the Lord, and hear Him tell us how much he loves us.
This whole week was a lot of work. I am exhausted! But it was worth every second of it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat!
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Grandma Estelle
When I was younger, my paternal grandmother was my sisters', my cousins' and my regular babysitter. Grandma Estelle's house was always fun. Her house became our regular meeting place. She had a candy dish that was always full on arrival, which we would always make sure was empty before we left. She'd allow us to walk to the ice cream parlor or the corner market by ourselves (as long as we stuck together). She's allow us all her clothes, smocks, and assorted colors of handkerchiefs to play dress-up in. She even bought us matching hats and purses for Easter, which is a big deal for a 7 year old. At grandma's house, we learned that a little burned crust on a pie does not ruin it. We learned that Velveeta cheese makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches. We learned that if you leave an old fashioned curling iron (that was heated on the stove) too long in your hair, the curl would come OFF your head (meaning you'd burnt your hair off!). Grandma would let us use up all her Jean Nat'e, roller skate in the house, and paint with oil paints. Grandma would encourage us to balance on the top post of the playground, the one that would give our mother's heart attacks if they saw us. Grandma would let us know we went too far with her generosity by yelling at us or giving us a swat, but was always quick to give us moist kisses and lots of "I love you's". When we got a little older, Grandma let us practice driving her car with her as passenger, even when we were nowhere old enough to even have a permit. It was only around the block, but it still felt dangerous and exciting. Us kids would give her a hell of a time! She wondered why all the music we listened to was so angry. She said it sounded like they were all screaming, not at all like the music she listened to. She'd constantly be humming songs like "Moon River" or "Pennies From Heaven". She also had tons of rhymes that she would repeat. If we told her to tell us a story, she'd sing:
Tell me a story, tell me a story,
tell me a story, before I go to bed.
Tell me about the birds and bees,
and how you make the chicken sneeze (achoo!).
Tell me a story, before I go to bed.
(Ouch, my seats all red!)
And another rhyme she had sounded like an old advertisement, and I always pictured a baby popping out of a tea canister. To this day, I think of it whenever I see that Anne Geddes picture of a rose and a baby in it.
This is the day we give babies away
With a half a pound of tea
You just open the lid, and out pops the kid
With a twelve month guarantee.
My grandma's not doing so well now. She is in the emergency room right now having tests run on her to see if she had a stroke. She isn't opening her eyes, won't respond to anyone, she won't wake up. Her health has been declining rapidly for months, and she's gone really downhill this past month. I expect this is her last week here on earth, and I don't think I'm going to be able to see her before she passes. She lives about 4 hours away in Sonora. I'm greatful that I got to see her last month, and was able to kiss her goodbye. She told me she loved me, even though I don't think she knew who I was. I'm going to miss her, but I have some very wonderful memories of my Grandma Estelle.
tell me a story, before I go to bed.
Tell me about the birds and bees,
and how you make the chicken sneeze (achoo!).
Tell me a story, before I go to bed.
(Ouch, my seats all red!)
And another rhyme she had sounded like an old advertisement, and I always pictured a baby popping out of a tea canister. To this day, I think of it whenever I see that Anne Geddes picture of a rose and a baby in it.
With a half a pound of tea
You just open the lid, and out pops the kid
With a twelve month guarantee.
My grandma's not doing so well now. She is in the emergency room right now having tests run on her to see if she had a stroke. She isn't opening her eyes, won't respond to anyone, she won't wake up. Her health has been declining rapidly for months, and she's gone really downhill this past month. I expect this is her last week here on earth, and I don't think I'm going to be able to see her before she passes. She lives about 4 hours away in Sonora. I'm greatful that I got to see her last month, and was able to kiss her goodbye. She told me she loved me, even though I don't think she knew who I was. I'm going to miss her, but I have some very wonderful memories of my Grandma Estelle.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
The Journey
I am on a journey. This journey is long and confusing, and sometimes I am unsure if I have really started it, or am backtracking. My journey is where I am going, and how I'm going to get there.
This journey has many stops along the way. Some are stops to check my supplies, make sure everything is there. Sometimes things get dropped and I have to go back to find them, whether that was originally my intention or not. Sometimes my stops are to help those along the way. And while it feels like aiding others in their journey is slowing me up, I am often amazed that I am actually miles farther ahead than I was when I looked away from the path I was traveling on.
There are also times I get lost. The path is there, bright as can be, but sometimes I take that for granted. "It will be there when I get back. I'll only be gone for a little bit." And sometimes I have doubts that I am even on the right path. Dark whispers surround me, coaxing me away. "You don't know where you're going. The journey is pointless. You are a fool to believe this is the path to take. Everyone else is taking the other path because it's more fun and exciting. Why exactly do you want to take this path when you have the freedom to have more fun on that other path?"
That last question tears at me all the time. Why? And I stare with longing at the world passing me by, laughing and carefree. And I hum along with their songs, edging closer and closer to the edge of my path until I soon find myself skipping, laughing, and singing their songs on their path. But I still see my path in the distance. And after a while I see that I do not matter on this path, only the songs and games matter. And through the laughter and the joy, I see hints of pain and confusion. I see demons laughing at me, playing hide and seek through the illusion of innocence. And I run back at my path with them clawing at my heels. "Come back! Be one of us!"
And once back on my path, I know I am safe. But I am also fragile. I know the pain of leaving, but I still feel the tempatations. And that scares me. I start sprinting on my path, wanting to make up for lost time, wanting to outrun my demons. And I am afraid that I will become winded and be forced to stop and rest....
......
......
......
And I do become winded. And I stop and sit at a tree. And I watch the other path, the laughing and singing. And I cry as I feel it is just hopeless.
But I am not alone. I feel Him approach me and sit beside me. I do not look up at Him, ashamed that I am not obedient to the One that created me, and suffered for me.
"I love you," he says. Hot tears spill down my face.
"But why? Why would you care for someone who couldn't possibly care for you?" I ask, still not looking at Him.
"Crissi, why are you here? Why did you come back?" He asks, ignoring my question.
"Because it was required of me," I say indignantly. "You expected it of me."
"No, my little one. You have the freedom to choose your path. I don't expect you here. I want you here because I love you."
"But how could you love me when I keep choosing to leave you?"
"Crissi, when you were away, you looked back over here. You knew where you wanted to go, and you knew that there was only one way to get there. But it took you leaving the path to realize that you really wanted to be here."
"But the other path is still there. I can still see it."
"Oh, my precious one, the other path will always be there. And you will always be able to choose if you stay here or go over there. But know this: I will always love you, and I will always welcome you back with open arms."
"But why do you love me?" I whisper.
"Look at me." I burst into tears.
"I can't."
"Look at me." I wipe my eyes and lift them to meet his. His face was of comfort and grace, his smile warm and compassionate. But his eyes....his eyes were my own. "My precious child, I created you. I held you in my hands and breathed my life into you. And no one could ever love you more than I love you." And as He fades from my sight, I feel him wrapped around me in the safest of embraces. And I know that I am where I belong, and that I was and always will be His child forever.
This journey has many stops along the way. Some are stops to check my supplies, make sure everything is there. Sometimes things get dropped and I have to go back to find them, whether that was originally my intention or not. Sometimes my stops are to help those along the way. And while it feels like aiding others in their journey is slowing me up, I am often amazed that I am actually miles farther ahead than I was when I looked away from the path I was traveling on.
There are also times I get lost. The path is there, bright as can be, but sometimes I take that for granted. "It will be there when I get back. I'll only be gone for a little bit." And sometimes I have doubts that I am even on the right path. Dark whispers surround me, coaxing me away. "You don't know where you're going. The journey is pointless. You are a fool to believe this is the path to take. Everyone else is taking the other path because it's more fun and exciting. Why exactly do you want to take this path when you have the freedom to have more fun on that other path?"
That last question tears at me all the time. Why? And I stare with longing at the world passing me by, laughing and carefree. And I hum along with their songs, edging closer and closer to the edge of my path until I soon find myself skipping, laughing, and singing their songs on their path. But I still see my path in the distance. And after a while I see that I do not matter on this path, only the songs and games matter. And through the laughter and the joy, I see hints of pain and confusion. I see demons laughing at me, playing hide and seek through the illusion of innocence. And I run back at my path with them clawing at my heels. "Come back! Be one of us!"
And once back on my path, I know I am safe. But I am also fragile. I know the pain of leaving, but I still feel the tempatations. And that scares me. I start sprinting on my path, wanting to make up for lost time, wanting to outrun my demons. And I am afraid that I will become winded and be forced to stop and rest....
......
......
......
And I do become winded. And I stop and sit at a tree. And I watch the other path, the laughing and singing. And I cry as I feel it is just hopeless.
But I am not alone. I feel Him approach me and sit beside me. I do not look up at Him, ashamed that I am not obedient to the One that created me, and suffered for me.
"I love you," he says. Hot tears spill down my face.
"But why? Why would you care for someone who couldn't possibly care for you?" I ask, still not looking at Him.
"Crissi, why are you here? Why did you come back?" He asks, ignoring my question.
"Because it was required of me," I say indignantly. "You expected it of me."
"No, my little one. You have the freedom to choose your path. I don't expect you here. I want you here because I love you."
"But how could you love me when I keep choosing to leave you?"
"Crissi, when you were away, you looked back over here. You knew where you wanted to go, and you knew that there was only one way to get there. But it took you leaving the path to realize that you really wanted to be here."
"But the other path is still there. I can still see it."
"Oh, my precious one, the other path will always be there. And you will always be able to choose if you stay here or go over there. But know this: I will always love you, and I will always welcome you back with open arms."
"But why do you love me?" I whisper.
"Look at me." I burst into tears.
"I can't."
"Look at me." I wipe my eyes and lift them to meet his. His face was of comfort and grace, his smile warm and compassionate. But his eyes....his eyes were my own. "My precious child, I created you. I held you in my hands and breathed my life into you. And no one could ever love you more than I love you." And as He fades from my sight, I feel him wrapped around me in the safest of embraces. And I know that I am where I belong, and that I was and always will be His child forever.
Monday, August 01, 2005
You Gotta Have Friends
Today, Gina and I went on a morning walk. I'm not sure she knows how meaningful it was for me that she even asked me, but I'm just so glad she did. I feel myself turning a corner in my walk, and am feeling pretty vulnerable because of it. But I am also feeling more inspired and more hopeful. My life has become so much less stressful, and could become even less stressful if I live it right. So for friends to be coming out of the woodwork and letting me know they care, well, it just makes me feel better about this journey, that I won't be alone.
And of course, our walk and talk had meaning. I've been feeling a bit like a freak in my faith, like I'm the only one who struggles, who has fears and walls being put up. But the more I admit my shortcomings, the more I realize that I am definitely not alone in feeling this way. And I realize even more that we all need hand holding during this time, friends who are there to encourage us when we are flailing, and let us know that we are not failures or feel ashamed for having these feelings. I've seen how easy it is to fall back on the world, become more like "them" when spirituality becomes too hard. I became ashamed, and decided it was easier to turn away than to be redeemed. But when friends aren't judgmental, when they accept you as you are, then it suddenly becomes easier to shed your former life day by day.
After all, WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?
Yes, it's cliche now, but I need to engrave it in my heart. Jesus does not hate me, he loves me. He does not hold my wrongs against me. He wants me to rid myself of my wrongs, but he accepts me as his daughter even with them. And I've realized this, but many have not.
And this is where it all comes together. TRIBE is starting up again this Friday, and Gina got me really excited about it. TRIBE itself is at a crossroads, and I can't wait for us to make it what it's supposed to be. TRIBE is an ever-growing group of us at that after college stage, and our purpose is not only to fellowship about the Lord, but to support each other in our walks and to reach out to the community. And in our beginning plans, we are preparing to make it just that. We are already talking about community services we could perform, and new ideas on how to make this group more inspirational than ever. And I can't wait to be a part of this and see how it turns out. And on a personal note, I know that this is exactly the boost I needed, to get me excited again in my faith and feel like I have some purpose here. And that to keep going in the direction you're going, you gotta have friends.
And of course, our walk and talk had meaning. I've been feeling a bit like a freak in my faith, like I'm the only one who struggles, who has fears and walls being put up. But the more I admit my shortcomings, the more I realize that I am definitely not alone in feeling this way. And I realize even more that we all need hand holding during this time, friends who are there to encourage us when we are flailing, and let us know that we are not failures or feel ashamed for having these feelings. I've seen how easy it is to fall back on the world, become more like "them" when spirituality becomes too hard. I became ashamed, and decided it was easier to turn away than to be redeemed. But when friends aren't judgmental, when they accept you as you are, then it suddenly becomes easier to shed your former life day by day.
After all, WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?
Yes, it's cliche now, but I need to engrave it in my heart. Jesus does not hate me, he loves me. He does not hold my wrongs against me. He wants me to rid myself of my wrongs, but he accepts me as his daughter even with them. And I've realized this, but many have not.
And this is where it all comes together. TRIBE is starting up again this Friday, and Gina got me really excited about it. TRIBE itself is at a crossroads, and I can't wait for us to make it what it's supposed to be. TRIBE is an ever-growing group of us at that after college stage, and our purpose is not only to fellowship about the Lord, but to support each other in our walks and to reach out to the community. And in our beginning plans, we are preparing to make it just that. We are already talking about community services we could perform, and new ideas on how to make this group more inspirational than ever. And I can't wait to be a part of this and see how it turns out. And on a personal note, I know that this is exactly the boost I needed, to get me excited again in my faith and feel like I have some purpose here. And that to keep going in the direction you're going, you gotta have friends.
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