braveheart

My mother and I are on the trip of a lifetime and I am doing a terrible job documenting it in writing. I am doing a better job documenting it in photographs, so I will not worry so much that I am failing at one thing.

So far we have experienced all we could of Prague, and continue on the adventure with a comprehensive tour of the UK. All I ask for is to hear the music of bagpipes on the hills of Scotland. I fear I will hear much more unpleasant things before I have such joy. Yet the sounds of trains and of airplanes and of noise in city streets and of Irish accents and of crowds in London should be enough to tide me over until then.

This travel has been wonderful and I do already miss home. Missing home after being gone so short a time is a strange feeling for me. I am not so sure what to do with the feeling but to be glad that I am growing right where I am on Michigan soil. I am so glad to see more of the world and so glad to have some place to go home to.

running

I have always hated to run. In high school, the worst days of my life were the ones in which we had to run the mile. I was a terrible runner. I was always last. The fat kids were faster than me. When I took a PE class in college, I was horrified to learn that I had to run a mile and a half three times throughout that semester. Running, in a weight training class! It was awful.
I know people now who love to run. These people have always told me that they used to hate running too. They tell me that when they started out it was terrible, but that once they got past the terribleness, they just loved it. I have always thought they were lying.
Well a couple weeks ago I was in Montana and feeling pretty good about things, like about climbing mountains and crossing rivers and just being pretty hard core extreme. I thought, when it came up in conversation, that a triathlon was a sweet idea and that with some training, I could totally do it. So the idea was born and we are really going to do a triathlon (a mini one) in just under two weeks.
Needless to say, I have started to run. The first time, I went with my friend Sarah and I made it further than I thought I would, but I was wishing the whole time that I would twist my ankle so I could stop running and, even better, have a great excuse to back out of the triathlon. The second time we ran I did not have to stop and walk and was feeling pretty proud of myself. The subsequent times just kept getting better and better and tonite, I went on a late nite bridge run with three of my friends. We crossed five different bridges. I did not stop and I did not die. I actually enjoyed myself. We just calculated that we ran 2.66 miles. And for the girl who used to walk behind the running fat kid during the high school PE class mile, I am pretty dang impressed.

writing

Small parts of me fade away sometimes and in those times I am less likely to write. Perhaps lately has been those times. I have had no motivation to place my most inner thoughts on display for anyone else to see.

I have heard it said that writing is hard and that it is painful because when we do it, whether we think we have something to say or have no idea what words will find themselves to a page, the things that come out are often a surprise; words can come from places we did not know were there.

Sometimes I sit down and think I am well and I write and my fears and failures spill out like the glass of water my friend’s child just spilled when she tried to pour from a large pitcher herself. Sometimes I am quite sure that I am falling apart and I find myself writing of hope and promise with a conviction I thought I had lost.

So writing is scary because it requires we let go control. We face blinding white space and we allow the inky mess of ourselves spill all over the page in whatever manner it pleases. We write when we do not know if we have anything to say and when we think we do, we do our best to get out of the way while the words surface on paper.

july

July is running away as fast as it can.

i have been reconciling and asking questions and making meals for friends.

There have been days where it has felt right that they should begin with rain, like the day that i watched friends place a child in the ground and the day that i cried because i do not know what to do.

And there have been days where it has felt right that they should be full of sunshine and new beginnings and should end with meals in the park and with people that i love and with the stories of how God is so very good.

cornerstone, again.

I am taking the last bit of time that I have to myself before leaving for Cornerstone Fest in the morning. I am looking forward to the trip. Although I will admit that I have had moments of wondering why I ever brought this upon myself one more time. I guess that getting over Cornerstone is one of those things I will just never learn. Cornerstone always brings up a lot of memories; I’ve done a whole lot of growing up there. This will be my eighth Cornerstone, I’ve made the trip all but one year since I was 15 years old. My inaugural year was certainly the most memorable. Shooting stars, Over the Rhine, chicken fighting in the lake, mud people, mosh pits, heartbreak. Most of the other years are a blur of dusty roads, sweat, sleeping out under stars, and of the reminder that sometimes people that love Jesus the most are the least likely to look like I would imagine them to.

And sometimes I realized that the ones I assumed did were only putting on a show.

This is the 25^th Cornerstone Festival and its funny that going there always feels a little bit like going home. I do not think it is the hardcore bands playing on generator stages or the porta-johns or even finding old and new friends in the merch tents. I think that it has much more to do with the sky I look up and see at nite, with the guarantee I will see stars flying from one end to the other. I think it has to do with going to see Over the Rhine play at midnite, falling asleep to the melodies and waking to the audience clapping, over and again. And smiling when Karen and Linford always come back and play even after saying goodnite. I feel at home with the familiar Cornerstone smells of straw and sweat and with the feeling that I am getting older and that some things stay the same.

This is the third year that I have taken high schoolers to Cornerstone. I smile because many of them are coming back after that first year, just like I had. I worry because some of the girls seem so young and then I realize they are older, and probably wiser, than I was that first year. I hope that these kids keep coming back, year after year, and find a home for this one week of the year and that they see God in the sky and in the people crowded onto that ground.

trees with roots

I planted a tree. I literally sunk some roots into the ground. I am planning on giving it a few years to grow and cannot wait for it to bear fruit. Cherries.

Had I not won this tree, I would not have planted it. My chances were slim and I won.

It felt good to plant a tree. A kid from the neighborhood was over and he helped me plant the tree. He took over digging the hole. I told him he was great at digging and he told me it was because he buries a lot of cats in his yard for his mom and his aunt.

This planting could be symbolic. These roots finding their home in West side soil.

I may have planted the tree a little too close to the house and to another tree in the yard but this was the best place I could put it for now. I may still need to transplant it someday. But for now this is a good place for it to grow.

sabbath and schedule

I had one of the best sabbath days of my life yesterday. it was actually on a Sunday and i actually did not do any work.
i went to church. after getting home from church, i had lunch. after lunch i hopped on my bike and found two of my dear friends sitting in the grass of rosa park's circle. i joined them. i scanned a newspaper. i read my book. i fell asleep. i conversed. i got an iced soy latte.
hours later dana and i left, me on my bike and her in her car. i told her it was a race back to her house. and i won. we walked to the store and got chips and salsa and fruit and olives and went to john ball park and sat by the pond and had a picnic.

i do not remember the last time i spent that many hours sitting in grass and i did all day and i loved it.

in conversation dana and i realized we were struggling with lots of the same questions about life and purpose and next steps. we decided to start the morning Bible study we have been saying we were going to do for a long time. this led us to my roof, to sit down and schedule.
730 am will see us either walking around the city or discussing Henri Nouwen's book, Spiritual Direction, over coffee. wednesday afternoons we will work on art projects. i am getting back in the habit of writing down a schedule for my often unstructured days.

we started today and i feel good. we had a long walk this morning and when i got home i knew exactly what to do because i had written it down the nite before. i do not feel like i have wasted my day. i do not feel the anxiety i was growing so accustomed to carrying around with me.

i hope that today is the first day of this pattern for my summer weeks. true rest one day. and schedules the rest.

Grandfather Part II

“I just wish I could sit on the dock and cry.”

Of all the things that all the people have said to me this week, this line, spoken by one of my family members, is the only thing in my head right now. This funeral process is exhausting. It makes me wonder why we do things the way we do. I have been rushing this week, all week. Every nite has been a late nite and every day has been full. Full of family and visitations and errands and a funeral and finally standing at the place my grandfather’s body now lays. I have been running so hard that I fear the fact has not yet sunk in. The fact is that I no longer have a grandpa. The fact is that I will miss this man very much. The fact is that my children will never have a great-grandpa and that our family will be very different from here on.

This week I have heard a lot of stories and have celebrated my grandpa’s life and have been glad to have an incredible assurance that he is finally home. But it is hard. And I have not had time to grieve. And I too just wish that I could sit on the dock, look up the stars, feel cold water on my toes, and cry big tears because this hurts.

Grandfather

I went to see my Grandpa in the hospital today. He has always been a very healthy man but as of yesterday he is in the hospital and he has leukemia. He looks okay but is very tired and he talked with his eyes closed. We do not know much about his condition; the test results were not yet in. He was talking like he is going to die tomorrow. He spoke with an amazing assurance that he has lived his life well and he talked as one who is so very ready to go home. I do not want to think that my Grandpa is going to die. But I do not want to see him suffer or to fight against that which he is so ready for.

I love the stories that my Grandpa has to tell. He has not exactly lived a conventional life. Never graduated from high school, a farm boy, an Air Force Pilate, a pastor, a missionary, twice a husband, a father and a grandfather to many. Listening to his stories today reminded me of the significance and of the brevity of life. I do not know that my Grandpa is on his deathbed. But if he is, he can say that he has arrived there having lived well, having sucked all the marrow from life, and he has made tremendous impact on this world. I remember a few months ago my Grandpa’s name was mentioned in the paper by a man who sited him as a huge influence on his spiritual journey. My Grandpa had not had any contact with this man in years. Everywhere my Grandpa goes he knows at least five people in the room. His life has not been easy but it has been full and it has been good. And he is leaving a story, a legacy, a testimony behind and the world is a different place because he has lived in it.

Today I was inspired by my Grandpa because he did not mention any regrets but only all the things he was so glad that he could have been a part of during his time here. I cannot imagine having so much peace in the face of death and I want to live my life in order to arrive at the end having lived so full and so well and having so much to leave behind.

politics

I have been thinking a lot about politics lately. About the election, about public policy, about the role of nonprofits and of the church.

This week Barak Obama was in Grand Rapids. I rode my bicycle down to the arena and got in a very long line three hours before he was to speak. I observed people standing in line. Some were buying Obama tshirts and pins. Some were signing petitions to put stem cell research back on the ballot in Michigan. Some were chatting. I was by myself and not buying or signing anything; I just stood there and read my book. I got into the arena two hours before he was to speak. I saved a few seats for some friends that were coming later. I watched the arena fill with people. I thought about how the last time I was inside the arena I was graduating from college. Now, five months later, I was feeling almost the same way I felt on the day I graduated. I was feeling a bit like “life is changing and I do not really know what the future holds”.

My friend Dave found me and sat down. We watched people together. I saw my friends Bryan and Scott and they asked me why I was there. Bryan looked at me in all his sarcastic seriousness and mentioned the possibility of a terrorist attack. I told him that he was ridiculous. But sometimes people do want to kill presidents and people trying to become them. So when I sat back down in my seat, I of course instantly noticed a very well dressed Arab man sitting in the front row of the section next to mine. I would have thought nothing of this except for the fact that Bryan had just made me think of terrorist attacks combined with the fact that this man was busily typing away on a laptop computer, talking on his cell phone, glancing around a lot, and really not paying any attention to the introductory speech or the promotional videos that were being played while we all waited. I thought to myself, “I do not want to die here today. I do not want to die for Obama.” I thought of what my parents would think if I died because I had skipped the prayer meeting I was supposed to go to see Obama speak.

My friend Katie came and took the empty seat on the other side of me. I was still thinking in the back of my mind that I was going to die here. I thought of all the things in my life that were not in order and all of the terrible things that people would find out about me when they went through my stuff and read my journals.

People in the arena were in high spirits, but getting antsy. The wave broke out. It was actually the best wave I had ever been a part of. Near full participation. I glanced down at the man in the front row to see if he was doing the wave. He was not standing or waving his arms, but I noticed a slight smile on his face. And I decided that he was not a terrorist. A few minutes later I noticed the same look on his face as he watched the small children running around on the floor in front of us. The kids were loving the space to run and the thousands of eyes all around the arena that were watching them like they were very tiny celebrities. I decided that surely he was not a terrorist.

And obviously I lived to tell the story. Even if it is a story that I hate to tell because I want never to be that person; I never want to be guilty of racial profiling or stereotyping.

So I listened to John Edwards and Barak Obama give their speeches. They each talked about the wonders of the Democratic Party and about how it can make the United States, and even the world, a better place. I clapped when I was moved to clapping. Like when they talked about everyone having healthcare and all children having equal opportunities for education. I looked around and saw people with these looks of absolute adoration on their faces. I saw other people sleeping.

A few evenings later some friends stopped over to smoke the hookah. I was feeling aggravated and well, truculent, so I asked these friends what they thought of Barak Obama. I knew that I was picking a fight and I wanted one. In most ways I was so blown away by their responses that I could not even fight back. A very dear friend stopped over on her way home from a very difficult evening and I stepped back from political conversation to listen to her instead. I could hear the guys in the other room, feeding off of each other and only getting stronger in their convictions. I felt weak and defenseless and liberal in the worst way when I went back into the room and I changed the topic of conversation.

My friend Jonathan bought me an iced soy latte on Saturday. Yum. I told him about the lack of direction I feel in my life. He told me to read Psalm 143, which I did later on in the evening, during worship at the Prayer House. Now, I did not really want to be at worship that nite. I had planned all day on going to visit someone our community knows and loves, who is currently in jail. Some plans fell through and I was not able to go. I thought, “Jesus tells us to visit him in prison, how can I possibly sit here and worship him when I have failed to make it to the prison to see him”. Turns out that Jesus likes us to sit and worship him too, but regardless, I did not want to be there that nite. So I looked up Psalm 143. I repeated the phrase “show me the way I should go”. I started thinking about the election, about politics, about how I was probably the most liberal person in the room and about how I felt ostracized for it. (The ostracism was, of course, all in my head, since I do not have my political views tattooed on my forehead or written on my sleeve.) Regardless, I was thinking. My eyes traveled across the pages of my well worn Bible to Psalm 146, specifically where the Psalmist says “do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save”. I thought of the people at the Obama rally who were looking towards this man with faces of adoration, of obsession, of trust. I got scared. The Psalmist goes on to say that it is the LORD who upholds the cause of the oppressed, it is the LORD who gives food to the hungry, who sets prisoners free, gives sight to the blind, uplifts and loves. The Psalmist wrote that it is the LORD’s responsibility to watch over the life of the alien and to sustain the fatherless and the widow.

I remember the day that I realized that I was not a Republican. I remember the way I felt when I considered all of the things that Christians should be doing for the earth and for the poor and the hungry and the old and the sick no matter how undeserving those people may be and when I realized that the Republican Party has failed. I once heard someone say that the local church is the hope of the world. That both inspired me and made me very afraid for the future of the world. I decided that day that because the Republican Party failed and because the church was failing that I would secretly be a Democrat. I told myself and a few select people that I did not want to be a Democrat and that I did not think the government should have to do the job for the poor or for the environment but that I had to be one because the church and the Republicans were doing a terrible job of it all. I blamed the church and I put my trust in mortal men.

Well, I have decided to put my hope back in the LORD. I believe that He really can be trusted to uphold the cause of the oppressed and eliminate hunger and free prisoners and care for immigrants and orphans and widows and to do everything else that he has promised to do. This, in the most beautiful and terrifying way, does make the church the hope of the world. We, the church, really are the hands and feet of Jesus on this earth. If we can trust God to do what he has said and if He can trust us to let Him use our flesh to do so, then just imagine what our communities could look like. Imagine if local churches took the responsibility in each of their own neighborhoods, to put food on every table, to house all of the homeless, to take in the orphans and the old, to adopt all the unwanted babies and to pay for people to get the medical help they need, to clean up trash and plant gardens and love creation.

I do not know who I will vote for in November. All I know is that my hope cannot rest in ANY politician or any “mortal man” (or woman, of course.) I know that it is important to be informed and to vote and I know that putting our trust in God means more than trusting him to put the right people in power, it means trusting him to enable his church to do the dirty work of redeeming this world. I trust Him to enable me to get my hands and my feet dirty in the process.

lost and found.

Today i slept in at least an hour too late. I have been fighting a cold and my body has not been wanting to move in the early morning hours. Once i was up and had my coffee and spent a little time with God i tried to get on with the work of my day.

Unfortunately, i could not find my planner. My planner contained the list i had made earlier in the week which would tell me all the things i had not done earlier in the week and had to do today. I was lost without this list. I searched the apartment. I thought maybe i left it in the Pavilion but i could not find my Pavilion key. I generally do not loose things and today i felt like i had lost them all.

I went next door to get a spare key to the Pavilion and as i walked by the room dedicated to prayer, i felt like i should go in. I felt like maybe it was okay that i had lost my to-do list and that i should just spend some time in the prayer room even though it was already after 11 am. I did not open the door and go inside. I borrowed a key and searched the Pavilion and my planner was not there. I was mad.

I did not want to go in the prayer room. I did not want to "waste" any more time today. But when i passed it again i walked in anyways. I read the things people have written on the walls. I felt peace enter my body. I told God that i love him and for a few brief moments i let love be enough. I found a marker and i found some blank space on the paper covered walls and i wrote the words "lost and found". When i returned to the apartment i found my planner in a silly place and i thanked God for finding me in silly places too on the days when i get lost.

yellow flowers

As I walked home from the store today I noticed that the trees in the park are budding. As I sat on my roof and winded down the day I noticed that the trees by my house are budding too. I realize that I notice much more when I walk places instead of drive and when I sit outside instead of inside my house. I made a very tasty coconut curry and rice dish for everyone for dinner and strawberry shortcake too. It tasted better when I ate it slow and because I was sharing with people I love. My friend’s 8 year old daughter always prays before the meals we share. She always says something like “dear Jesus thank you for making dinner and thank you for loving us”. I like the idea of being Jesus’ hands and feet in the world and I like the idea of Jesus making dinner for my friends through my own two hands.

The park is full of daffodils and I picked some and filled the vase that I almost smashed a month ago and I cannot help but feel full of hope because it is finally Spring.

cops and drunks

Last nite I called the cops for the second time since living on Bridge Street. The first time was one of the first days I lived here. My computer had been stolen out of the apartment while I was still in the process of moving in. I remember the officer who came out; he was very nice and told me I could probably find my computer in a pawn shop. I never did find it.

Last nite I came home and it was late and I got out of my car and saw a person laying half on the sidewalk by the park across the street. I saw the person move and my heart moved too but I was too afraid to go over there alone. I called my neighbor Zechariah. He was the only person I could think of that would not hate me for calling so late and might even help me help this person. He was still awake and did not hate me for calling but was not home and could not help me. I went inside and looked out my window and I was scared. I almost started weeping because I was looking out the window and not helping. I felt detached and inhumane. I could not find the non emergency number for the police and so I called 911. The first responders were there in about five minutes. Their truck was blocking my view but a few moments later I saw the first responders leave and a very drunk man stumble away down the sidewalk. The man did not look very well or stable and I knew that it would have been foolish for me to try and help him alone; but I still felt sick in my insides because I had watched a crumpled figure on the sidewalk from my window. I had wasted the time of the firemen. And I do not think that I was Jesus to the man on the sidewalk.

I wonder what it means to be moved to mercy and compassion and how that fits in with safety and reason.

I am going out of town again tomorrow. This time to Kentucky. This time it will not be a vacation.

all i know all i need to know

And what does the LORD require of you?

To Act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

[Micah 6:8]

“And now, O Israel, what does the LORD your God ask of you but to fear the LORD your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the LORD’s commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good?” [Deuteronomy 10:12-13]

“Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the voice of the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams.” [1 Samuel 15:22]

“Because your heart was responsive and you humbled yourself before the LORD when you heard what I have spoken against this place and its people, that they would become accursed and laid waste, and because you tore your robes and wept in my presence, I have heard you, declares the LORD.” [2 Kings 22:19]

“Stop doing wrong, learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow.” [Isaiah 1:17

“For this is what the high and lofty One says- he who lives forever, whose name is holy: I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the head of the contrite.” [Isaiah 57:15]

“This is what the LORD says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of his oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the alien, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.” [Jeremiah 22:3]

“For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.” [Hosea 6:6]

“This is what the LORD Almighty says: ‘Administer true justice, show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.’” [Zechariah 7:9-10]

“Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” [Matthew 9:13]

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices – mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of justice, mercy, and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.” [Matthew 23:23]

“To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” [Mark 12:33]

Wednesday [homeward bound]

March 26, 2008

I spent today in Wicker Park. I walked around and got coffee and browsed lots of second hand shops. I picked up a few great things even though I was trying not to buy anything; I did not want anything else I would have to carry home. I had a wonderful lunch at a place with lots of vegan options. The restaurant is called Earwax which does not sound nearly as appetizing as the black bean burger they served me for lunch. A worker there found in strange that I was dining alone and we struck up a conversation. He was very cute and he asked me if I’d ever thought about moving to Chicago. I told him that the thought had crossed my mind and that practically the whole world was an option for me right now. He seemed to understand what it was like to be having a vocational crisis and reminded me that it is pretty unrealistic to plan one’s life in a week or two and he made me feel like I was going to be okay.

I took the L back to Logan Square and got my things together and said goodbye to my cousin Derek who was working in his office upstairs. I carted my backpack and my shoulder bag and my beautiful suitcase back to the station and headed downtown. More luggage lugging. Upon arrival at Union Station I was tired and a little hot and sweaty. I got my ticket and sat down and waited and now I am on the train.

There is a man talking very loudly and he is irritating me. I read for a while and I ate the salad I brought along for dinner and now I am bored and I am still not sure if I want to be going home. I told my mom today that I am not yet weary of living out of a suitcase and sleeping on other people’s floors and couches. Tomorrow morning I go back to working and I fear reality will hit me like a slap in the face the moment I wake to my alarm. Maybe I will set my phone to play Joy to the World at 8 am; I always choose that song for my alarm on mornings I do not want to have. It is like an extra slap in the face but always makes me laugh and sometimes helps me take the morning I bit lighter.

I am trying to evaluate the things that I want to come home to, like my sewing machine and my family and my dear friends and watching Spring come into being. I am trying to evaluate the things I dread coming home to, like deciding whether to keep my job at my church for next year and having to put gas in my car and feeling the weight of broken relationships. I am trying to evaluate which things in my life I should fight for and which things I should let slip away and move on from.

Tuesday

March 25, 2008

I am in Chicago. A small piece of me died as we flew in and I saw a ground covered in white. Fortunately there really is not snow here in the city. And I actually broke a sweat walking on my way to my cousin’s house. I realized how exhausted I am and I am resting.

Yesterday was my last day in San Francisco. I began it with the unpleasant necessities of a load of laundry and making all of my possessions fit back inside of my suitcase. My luggage seemed to have expanded substantially and gotten considerably heavier. When I looked outside and could not bear to be out of direct sunlight for another moment, I gave up on packing and went to the Yerba Buena Gardens. I took a nap in the sunshine much like I did my first day in the city. I read and I prayed. I looked up at the beautiful blossoming tree and knew that there is no sense living an angry bitter life.

I forgave.

I read this really great piece in the book I am reading. It was about shalom.

“I believe life is a bottle rocket, a celebration, and it requires everything that we have, and it demands that we battle through fear and resentment, and it demands that we release our need to be the best, the prettiest, the most perfect and together, because the big thing, the forceful beautiful thing is happening already, all around us, and we might miss it if we’re too busy meeting our parents’ expectations or winning awards.

Shalom is happening all around us, but it never happens on its own. The best things never do happen on their own and shalom is the very best thing. In the same way that forgiveness never feels natural until after it’s done, and hope always feels impossible before we commit to it, in the same way that taking is easier than giving, and giving in is easier than getting up, in that same way, shalom never happens on its own.

It happens when we do the hardest work, the most secret struggle, the most demanding truth telling. In those moments of ferocity and fight, peace is born.”
[Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines]

And this is the sort of life that I hope to live. I hope to forgive and to hope and to give and to experience shalom. I do not know quite what this will look like, and I had hoped to have that figured out by now. But, I realize, I do not, and I am still okay. Late tomorrow nite I will find myself in my hometown, in my own bed, and I will still have questions. I will still be wondering what my life will look like one month, one year from now. And I will choose to find the beauty around me and I will choose to fight for this life I have been given.

Yesterday I went to the San Francisco Museum o f Modern Art and I was inspired. I walked to the Ferry Building and ate vegan things like tofu and seaweed and I bought some herbs to leave growing in Tim’s kitchen. I went back to Yerba Buena Gardens; I just could not resist lying in the restful sunshine in the green green grass. I bought a Slurpee from 7-11 but I was sick after about eight sips and I let it melt with me in the sunshine. I met Tim and we took the Muni and got off a stop too late and walked through Haight Ashbury and went to the Independent to see Eagle Seagull and Tokyo Police Club. I went to bed and got up early and took BART to the airport and a plane to Chicago and the blue line to my cousin’s neighborhood.

Linda and I and Luna went for a walk and then Linda and Derek and I had dinner at a place called Handle Bar and then for a drink at their neighborhood bar. I like Chicago and it is really not so cold here today and I love my cousins and they way they love each other like it’s for real.

Tomorrow I will spend the day in the city and then I will go home. I am returning with far fewer answers than I had hoped but I have to believe that I have succeeded in what I set out to do; I am reminded that the world is a big big place and I have seen more of it and have remembered small parts of who I am and who I want to be someday very soon.

sunday [Easter}

March 23, 2008

Easter Sunday. I was tired this morning. My coffee stop next door was closed. We went to church. I did not shower and I wore jeans and we were late. But the website had made this church sound very “seeker friendly” which I knew meant that I could get away with all of these things. I like the idea of a church that will accept a very unkempt me. The service was really interesting. The whole thing was a drama presentation of the Last Supper, ending in the resurrection. It felt a bit like “Jesus Christ Super Star”; I liked it but it was certainly an untraditional Easter. I wish I would have gotten myself to a sunrise service, I had heard of one. Public transportation in an unfamiliar place is a bit of a stretch at those sort of hours in the morning and I slept in instead.

We drove to Ocean Beach. I walked down to the ocean alone and put my feet in the water. It was freezing cold and I watched people and their dogs and I looked at stones and thought about how long it takes the waves to make them smooth. I picked up a very rough one to remind me that these rough stones will not always be so rough. I looked out at the ocean and I thanked God for the day and for raising his Son from death and I asked for answers about my life. And even though I did not get any answers I felt peace and maybe that is all I can hope for right now.

We walked up a big hill and had lunch at Cliff House. We drove into Golden Gate Park and walked through the Japanese tea garden and the botanical gardens and I wanted to lay in grass and sleep but we did not. I drove Tim’s car down Lombard Street.

Tonite we went out for Mediterranean food and to see Bon Iver play at the Independent. It was a wonderful meal and a wonderful show.

Saturday

March 22, 2008

If I’ve gone missing I can suggest the first place to look for me: Frog’s Leap Winery in Napa Valley.

Tim and I headed north this morning. I got my morning coffee next door; Tim laughs that I have more of a morning routine than he does. We crossed the Bay Bridge and I put my sunglasses on my face and the sun was shining as bright as it was the day before. We didn’t talk; we listened to the radio.

Our first stop was Mondavi Winery. It was a very classy place and a very beautiful place and I did my best to fit in. The first thing I asked the man at the desk when we walked in was where the bathroom was. Once we implied we were going to do the tour he directed me where to go. We took the tour which went from the vineyard to the building where they make and age the wine to the tasting room. The tasting room was, of course, my very favorite part. We tasted four lovely wines. When the tour was over Tim and I made some small talk with the woman who had led our tour. We hoped maybe we’d get some advice on how to best spend our day. She told me that she was from the Midwest originally and came out here one day when she was younger like me and she decided to stay. She had her mother ship her things. I thought maybe I should do that. I doubt my mother would comply.

So we left and found the next winery that was on our list of places to find, Frog’s Leap Winery. We pulled up and the sign said that tours and tastings were by appointment only. Tim tried to call them from their driveway so we could get an appointment, but no one picked up. We drove up anyways. The people there were delightful, and they squeezed us on a “mini tour” which really was not so mini at all. Best of all it was free. I was provided with a sunhat and a glass of wine was placed in my hand. We walked around the property and heard all about the organic dry farming methods used there. Not only did they grow grapes and make wine, but they had a vegetable garden and flowers and chickens and they even have a cow on the way. A woman named Freddie, who was from New Jersey and celebrating her fiftieth birthday, stopped me on the path and said that we must live here and make this our lives. I told her that I was in. I probably could have never left that place - the beautiful LEED certified building that looked just like a home even though no one lived there, the mustard and the weeds growing among the vines, the giant dining room table, the fire pit outside, the view from the top of the barn, the mountainous backdrop, and of course the wine. In the end we did leave, both me and Freddie. But I’m still entertaining thoughts.

The restaurant we tried to stop at for lunch was too busy and too expensive and not nearly vegan enough for my taste. We bought some bread and hummus and olives at a grocery and ate at a picnic table outside of Rutherford Hill Winery. We did not go inside there, the cars outside made us think we would not be able to afford anything they might offer us. In search of this perfect picnic spot, we also made a stop off at Onig Winery and they forced some free tasting on us which we, of course, could not refuse.

After lunch and a very scenic drive we stopped off at Beringer Winery. Beringer is very old and I suppose rather classic. We did not do a tour there, but just looked around a bit and did some tasting outside. And we got to keep our glasses there and I will probably break mine at some point on the journey home.

When we finally started heading back towards San Francisco, we decided to stop at Ikea. We were going to do so the next day, but since we were driving right by, figured we ought to get it over with. This proved an unfortunate idea. I would not recommend spending a day in beautiful and laid back Napa Valley and wine and then finishing it off with over stimulating cheap furniture land on an empty stomach.

Tim and I are arguing right now. We’ve been arguing a lot. The people in the apartment above his are very noisy. He has been complaining about this nonstop. I first told him to get over it, its Saturday nite and they cannot help the fact that people live below their thin floor. When he kept whining I told him to go tell them to be quiet or to stop whining. He went down to the front desk, but there was no one there to complain to so he came back and complained to me. Finally I told him that I could not handle his non confrontational methods for another minute and if he gave me a dollar that I would go up and talk to them myself. Finally we struck a deal. I talked to the neighbor and they are being more quiet. Tim is still complaining and we are still arguing. I wonder if this might be what it feels like to be married and I do not want to feel this married for a very long time.

Friday [a good one.]

March 21, 2008

Yesterday was lovely. Art. Rest. Internet at the café. A new sweater. German beer hall.

Weekends are for tourists. Which I suppose means I fit right in here today, but I felt like I’ve almost been here long enough to be annoyed at the masses of people flocking the streets, clicking cameras, a different language heard chattering from each passerby.

Tim didn’t have to go to work today. Which meant I included him in my plans to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. He was skeptical at first, a little concerned that it might be too cold or too windy or too touristy. I told him I was doing it and he could come along if he wanted to. It turned out to be a perfect day, I took off my sweater and the sun may have even made my skin a tiny bit pink. We rented bicycles at Fisherman’s Warf. I opted for the helmet and the three dollar insurance, just in case the wind blew me off the bridge. The precautions proved unnecessary. The trip started with a pretty intense hill. I realized I should’ve been training for this all winter. I made the first hill and went ahead and swallowed my pride on a few others and walked my bike. The ride across the bridge itself was easy other than tourist dodging. I didn’t run any of them over and made it safely to the other side. Once across, we flew down a huge hillside into Sausalito, which was a quaint little town that reminded me a lot of Saugatuck. (Quite a bit actually, especially once figuring in the gay population.) I found a deliciously vegan sandwich for lunch and we walked around and enjoyed the sunshine. We then hopped on a ferry and rode on the very top all the way back to Fisherman’s Warf. We returned the bikes and I wished I had saved my three dollars for something better than bicycle insurance. Since we had blended in with the tourists so well all day, we thought we may as well take the trolley car back to the other side of the city. We felt a little ridiculous and not unlike we were at Disney waiting in the long line for a ride. I could think of nothing I could ever want more than soy ice cream and a nap but the ride was enjoyed nonetheless. I even found some soy ice cream before we trekked back to the apartment.

Tomorrow we escape the city and drive to Napa Valley. Wine country. Which is my kind of country.

Wedensday [thru the eyes of thursday]

March 20, 2008 (the first day of spring.)

The days are already slipping away. The second evening I was here Tim and I went out in search of the container store in order to find an island for his kitchen. We ended up walking too far and when we turned ourselves back around, our hungry stomachs got the best of us and we stopped for dinner at one of seven of SanFrancisco’s breweries, the Thirstybear Brewing Company. I had some pretty amazing pesto paella. Since we missed closing time of the container store, we came back to the apartment and played Rock Band on the Xbox.

Yesterday morning I woke up and it was cold and cloudy. And I didn’t feel very good – all tired and sore and crampy. I had to fight myself to get out of bed, to leave the apartment, to leave the neighborhood I’ve already become familiar with. I got on the Muni, half streetcar half subway type thing, in search of the Haight-Ashbury district. This is where the whole hippie thing happened in SanFrancisco in the 60s. Now there a few old hippies left, some new hippies, some bums, some tourists, and lots of sweet shops. I was enchanted. I completely lost myself in a couple of the second hand clothing stores. I bought some shirts and some high top Chuck’s. I found an art store and stocked up on some paints and a few canvases. I’ve been dying to be dying to make some art. And I’m dying to make some art.
I had lunch at a place called the People’s Café. I had a deliciously amazing vegan sandwich, with hummus and sprouts, lettuce, tomato, and onion. I wandered around for hours. I made it down to the very eastern end of Golden Gate Park. To walk around there would have to be another whole day, but I sat on the edge near a pond and rested and smiled even though I was surrounded by homeless men. I put on my new shoes. I sat in a coffee café and read a book I had picked up earlier in the day. I got back on the Muni and met Tim downtown. We went to the container store for real and got his kitchen stuff and a thousand hangers so we could stop tripping over the mountain of clothes in the middle of the living room floor. We assembled and arranged and put things away. We got things looking halfway decent and then decided it was definitely time for dinner. We took the real old fashioned streetcar (but not the trolley) out to Fisherman’s Warf. I finally saw the ocean but not really because of the darkness. I’ll go down there again. We had dinner at the Boudin Sourdough Factory. I filled my empty belly with massive amounts of bread.

My body finally got on California time and let me sleep in today. I’m planning to take it really easy today. I need to rest my body from walking, at least for this morning. I went to the shop next door for my coffee. I’ve opened the windows, the sun is shining, and I am going to make art.

Tuesday

March 18, 2008

SanFrancisco didn’t provide me with any green beer either. Lame. My flight was long and boring but no one sat next to me and I wiggled and twisted and got a little bit of sleep. I got myself all the way into the city. At that point I really began to appreciate all the modes of transportation I had utilized that day: car, train, my feet, the CTA, airplanes, BART… and I was feeling good that I could do it all by myself, like I child realizing she has just ridden her bicycle the whole length of the driveway. The training wheels and dad’s steady hands suddenly gone, and she made it all by herself.

Tim’s apartment smells like new carpet. It is small and desiring a little character, but that is to be worked on this week. I was comfortable last nite sleeping on the floor next to a heating vent that kept me warm. My body was tired and a little sore as we climbed hills late last nite, doing our best to join in with the St. Patrick’s Day revelers. I looked around me at the bright green hats and shirts, the clovers and the beer, the drunken masses and the hasty choices; I wondered aloud who St. Patrick was and why we celebrate him this way.

Today I was in charge of supervising the moving men. I told them where to put things and unpacked boxes of things I had never seen before. I put lamps together and things in cupboards and signed my name on lots of lots of papers.

I discovered an Asian grocery just next door and picked up some coffee, rice noodles, and tofu. The things were cheaper than even A-dong, which I frequent in Grand Rapids. I made myself lunch at home. When the moving men were finally gone I went off adventuring. I went to stores we don’t have at home, like H&M and Urban Outfitters. I went to the Yerba Buena gardens and lay in the sun in the green grass under a blossoming tree. I saw an art exhibit. I stopped in lots of art galleries and bought some new Levi’s. Apparently SanFrancisco is where ‘ole Levi got started, so I figured it only appropriate I get in on that. I picked up a local scene magazine and found that Bon Iver is playing a show here on Sunday nite. I must go. The next nite we’re going to see Tokyo Police Club at the same place.

monday afternoon

;afternoon

When I arrived in the city I walked straight out of Union Station and walked until I was lost. I needed to burn the energy that had built up from sitting on the train all morning and I needed to be where I did not know where I was. (I also needed to find coffee and free wireless internet and a little something to eat.) I got myself to the point of not knowing exactly where I was and began seeking these things out – desperately trying to avoid a chain. I realized that small cute cafes no longer exist in such areas, but at least I chose a chain that I don’t have at home and have never been to before. I sat and listed to two women screaming at each other at the table behind me. I tried to figure out where I wanted to go in the precious little time I had before I needed to find the blue line that would take me to the airport. Never succeeding in finding anything of any consequence to amuse myself with, I mostly wandered aimlessly. I put my sunglasses on my face even though the sun was barely shining and I lugged my suitcase to and fro. I made it up to Michigan Avenue and Millennium Park. By then my suitcase had become heavy and my eyes were heavy and I was hungry. I took pictures. I stopped at street corners and just watched people. I was a tourist. And I didn’t mind. It is St. Patrick’s day and I wanted to have some green beer. I found the train station I needed and then had a beer even though it wasn’t green and some veggie chili at some random bar I’ve already forgotten the name of. I found myself a little sad that I hadn’t remembered any of the wonderful places that Paul had told me he would take me for vegan food.

The trip to the airport was uneventful and now I am here awaiting my flight. The airport is busy and I really had to search for an outlet to plug my dead computer into. Chicago was cold today and I am looking forward to a warmer city. I haven’t really made any new friends yet. I have felt small and lost with much going on around me and that is exactly how I had hoped to feel today.

monday morning

March 17, 2008

Whatcha doin' with a suitcase
Tryin' to hit the ground with both feet runnin'
Aren't you trippin' on your shoelace

You're stealin' away on a sunny day
Well aren't you ashamed at all
Funny but I feel like I'm fallin'
I wanna beg you to stay
You're stealin' away on a sunny day

-karen and linford

I left Grand Rapids very early this morning. There is no coffee on this train and I am battling my psychological addiction to that hot black liquid that tells me it’s a new day. I have mostly slept. I am alone now and do not know what I will do when I arrive in Chicago. I will not be able to escape the fact that I am only passing through this city; my plaid suitcase sticks out with its loud tasteless pattern and will weigh me down with all the things I’ve deemed necessary for this trip. This morning I removed a few things from my suitcase again. I need very little.

Sunday

March 16, 2008

Thus my vacation, my sabbatical if I can call it that, has begun. I haven’t made it very far geographically. But I am away from my home in the city. I am living out of my suitcase. I am embracing people. I am embracing this.

This weekend was supposed to be for Paul and I and Chicago. He decided that his fears were much stronger than the things he had first felt for me. Things are over. And I am not yet in Chicago.

Instead of the big city, Friday nite became the friend that was there to hold me, phone calls and rendezvous over wonderfully overpriced food. It became the friends that were there to listen, cheap beer in beautiful containers, and much cursing. Saturday was for conversation and packing and laundry and books. For buying cigarettes and for the dear friend who took them away. The nite was for friends who have been around since we were children, for coffees, for making maple syrup, for cheap beer in cold cans. It was for friends who know me, friends who love me even if I've once caused them pain. Sunday morning was not for Chicago, but it was for a room in my parents' house that I hadn’t slept in before and waking up with that terrifying, familiar, and so comfortable feeling of not knowing where I was when I opened my eyes. It was skipping church and having pancakes for breakfast, drenched in the maple syrup I watched boil down the nite before. The fire that kept me warm that nite helping to fill my belly the next day.

I have mud on my pants and am going on two days in the same clothes.

I am glad that I am not yet in Chicago. I am glad for people who know me and haven’t given up on me and love me still.

I feel really wonderful things in all of this pain. I am glad that I waited a few days to run away. Tomorrow morning I will get up very early and ride the train. And I will lose myself in a city much bigger than I am.