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.