Oh the distracted mind.

I sit in the basement of Smith Union Hall here at Portland State. There is a restaurant called “Green Space Café,” and it is run by students and is pretty darn Portlandy. I brought my own mason jar for water, (because that’s what you do, you know, recycling and non-leaking) and then I broken it when I dumped out the boiling water that was in it and decided too quickly to have cold water instead. I busted the bottom out. Good thing I have two shelves and box of more mason jars at home. Sorry Melissa, I know you are saving them for your wedding… I will work really hard on not breaking any more!

So I instead am drinking from a chipped yellow mug, with my own instant Nescafe coffee that has been sitting in the bottom of my backpack for nine months. I bought it when I was in Alabama last spring break so that I had some caffeinating to help me rise early with my wonderful nephews and nieces. It is not good by any means, but it is hot. And having a hot cup of caffeine in my hands is nice. I long for the day when I can spend my money on real coffee beans again. Locally roasted, fresh, not bitter.

I have three days left of this term, and one final next week… but as I have a three hour break before I go into work, I find myself in a compelling situation. One that draws me in a competition against myself, which I suppose is a good battle to be in, because either way, I win. The situation at present is that of Jane Eyre. Such an intriguing read. Charlotte Bronte has quickly become one of my new favorite authors this week. Its not just the plot, which is AMAZING! But it is the word usage, the one liners that draw me to examine my inner being. I have Dr. Shakk to thank for this. He taught my British Literature class last year at Multnomah, and opened my eyes to a world of wonderful authors, he showed me what was good, and why. And not more and more, I think in British accents.

We had many discussions in his class, and it is often said at Multnomah, that you learn more about God in Shakks literature classes than you do in any theology class. And there is such truth to this. It is not because they (authors) speak of God; no! It is quite the opposite. It is their lack of mention of him. The dark revealing's and honest observations that make me think so much more about Him than a directly pointed question. I connect with Bronte.

“I then ordered my brain to find a response, and quickly. It worked and worked faster: I felt the pulses throb in my head and temples; but for nearly an hour it worked in chaos, and no result came of its efforts. Feverish with van labor, I got up and took a turn in the room; un-drew the curtain, and noted a star or two, shivered with cold, and again crept into bed. And a kind fairy in my absence, had surely dropped the required suggestion on my pillow; for as I lay down it came quietly and naturally to my mind – …” (Jane Eyre, chapter 10)

My brain so often works overtime, seeking a quick response. I throb and lay away and pace. And yet so often, once I am found in silence, giving up, I find peace. This I know comes only from the Lord, and it is really me giving up the battle of struggling within my own mind. I am not sure if Bronte knew that, but I like the way she thought about things too.

the girl with the rain deer hat

There is a girl in my class who sometimes sits in front of me. She likes to wear a rain deer hat on her head. I don’t much like her rain deer hat. It blocks my view of the board. She has red hair.

Sometimes, when I am not in class… I wish I had red hair and a rain deer hat.

Auntie Role

I’m convinced that there is no better status to hold than that of an Aunt. I have 10. 10 glorious, wonderful Aunts. Donna, Sherry, Jan, Mary Jane, Charlene, Joyce, Mary, Tina, and Elaine.  Oh and I love them! I love because of the way they love me, the way they are my friend and mom. The way we have fun, when I was little and still today.

And I am an Aunt too! I have 6 nieces and nephews, but with my brothers foster son in china, and my cousin Mandy’s three, I feel like I have 10. 10 glorious, wonderful nieces and nephews. Solomon, Benjamin, Ellenor, Havilah, Zoe, Esther, An, Dom, Eli and Mia. Oh and I love them! I love the way they love me, the way we are friends, the way we play and have fun.

I think what makes this role the most wonderful is how it is rule breaking. It is like taking the best parts of all other rols, defying any negative sanctions, and justifying every last action.  As an aunt, you can get way with it, just because.

You nurture like a mother

        spoil like a grandma

        tell secrets like an older sister

        train like a teacher

        and play like a friend.

But, at the end of the day, you love like an aunt. And what a joy this is! This caps all other roles, and emotions and trumps all other positions. In this deck, the Aunt Card wins every hand.

I am thankful

I am thankful. For a new job at MACYS, downtown, and when I exit the building I find myself in a whirl of winter wonderland, crisp air slapping my leathered cheeks.

I am thankful to come home, to a house that is a home, full of people enjoying a Thanksgiving meal, and that our Land lord and her mother (owner of the house who spent 30 Thanksgivings here) came, to have food to share and save for leftovers, to have good conversation that continued to refer to scripture and the goodness and Joy of the Lord, and that cleaning became a room mate bonding time that led to shot glasses of organic apple cider and prayer over our week and other roommates.

I am thankful that my family is here, that I get to see my brother before he returns to China, that my parents live close enough for me to see them whenever I need, that my cousins Nick and Mandy let me be a part of their family night and welcome me into their heart and home always, and that my sister, though she is far away, is one of my closest friends.

I am thankful that I have such amazing friends, who love me in such amazing ways, who tell me stories and keep me up at night, who call me randomly, who send me notes that make me happy, that teach me about being a wife, and show me through their lives and responses how to be a woman who serves the Lord.

I am thankful that I serve a God who loves unconditionally, and gives graciously, and lavishes lovey things, who responds in gentleness and controls in greatness and surprises with consistency, who places me where I need to be and knows me better than I do myself, who takes great delight in me and in the very little things that bring me delight and that he is the center of my very delight.

The grief in it all

My dear friend Sarah has been living in India these past few months. She grew up there when she was little, and moved to America to be with her “home” culture and family again. But for a few months, she got to return to the land of her dreams, this time to teach at the school she was once a student. She has had an amazing trip, and is about to return to America again, where we will get to be roommates for another wonderful season.

In one of our more recent conversations over Facebook, we talked about the strange, interrelatedness of Joy and Grief. How she is so happy being where she is, in the moment she is there, but there is sadness with the thought of leaving. Sadness with watching others who were there with her, leave before she. I talked about the joy of being where I am, at my new school, traveling by bus and capturing well the culture of Portland… and yet my sadness still of missing Multnomah. Of not being an RA to my girls anymore. Or how much fun my life is, and how I am able to remember things about my Grammy… but she is still gone, and there is grief in that.

And so we talked and battled and concluded, though without totally victory, that Joy and Grief CAN co-exist. As a matter of fact, its not that they can, its that they must. In order to really experience and understand joy, we must know and have experienced grief. And to really have and experience grief, we must of had and experienced total joy.

And isn’t this how it is with our Lord? I imagine Jesus, while he was walking on earth, to have been the most joyful man there was! I mean, not only did he KNOW the father, he was part of the father. I mean, talk about joy right there. And yet… he was on earth. I wonder at the grief he must have experienced. When people spit in his face, and denied the father, and choose sin. The grief from being fully human, and experiencing pain, and loss. When Lazarus died, HE WEPT. Jesus wept. The most joyful man alive, was grieved when his friend died, when he had to leave the earth, when people wronged him. I wonder if his grief was deeper even than ours, based upon the fact that he had so much Joy to start with…. And like wise, if his joy on earth was that much greater, because of the depth of grief he had experienced.

Hmmm. Well, from these thoughts, I have concluded, much to the thankful aid of Sarah, that Joy and Grief must co-exist. And it is good. so rather than just focusing on Joy, and pushing out all other emotions, I am curious to see how other things play into this scale… not just the extreme opposites. So for now, this blog is about joy, but please excuse me if it seems to direct away… it will come back. Joy always does.

You are my JOY!

Chelsea and I are getting more on the same schedule. She said is is my fault, and I will gladly take the blame! I like to get up early, which means early to bed. But I like it when we go to bed at the same time, cause we both sleep better. And… she uses her ipod for an alarm which is soooo much better than my BEEP BEEP BEEP of my phone. So, she sets it to nice songs. And for a few mornings, we listened to David Crowder Band, which is my personal favorite. Then as we were getting ready, we could sing. Well, a favorite of ours is becoming YOU ARE MY JOY.

In the morning, it is so easy to groan, and complain, and mope. Who wants to take a shower in the cold bathroom anyways? Can we please skip school today? What the crap… why is it morning already? See? Its so easy. But not when we are worshiping. One morning last week, I was determined to ride my bike to school, no matter how I felt when I woke up. So I was determined to have a good attitude. So we listened to the song, You are my joy, you are my joy, you are my JOOOOOOOOY. Wouldn’t you know it, it was the coldest morning yet! 35 degrees and I find myself coasting down Glisan. Two long sleeves, a wool sweater, a coat, two pairs gloves, double layer leggings, a hat and a scarf. The icy wind slapping my cheeks and chapping my lips … and yet if your window was slightly cracked to let out your cigarette smoke as I zipped past, you would have heard me yelling out of my almost out of breathed asthma mouth, “ YOU ARE MY JOY YOU ARE MY JOY YOU ARE MY JOYYYYYYY. I need to catch my breath, I need to catch my breath, YOU ARE MY JOY.” And he was.

So this morning, the alarm went off, for the third time after snooze, trying to raise us to a day laden with homework. If you were in the Kitchen barely above our room, you could have heard two girls, singing out in the dark, almost convincingly, YOU ARE MY JOY YOU ARE MY JOY YOU ARE MY JOY!

And you know what? I am convinced. Because He is my Joy. And that is the end of it. Some days I can do nothing more than shout it out, You are my joy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPt89nSkoM4