The Milk

My Sister and I took the kids to Multnomah Falls. It was a typical Oregon heavy, wet day. The kids were antsy and hungry ... cause we hadn't really planned on going, we just wanted to talk, Harmony and I, and if we drove maybe we could do that. So anyway, the kids, they needed sugar, so we stopped at that little Cafe just under the falls, you know the one, outside under the tent? Well, they were closing up, and kinda irritated that we wanted a drink. (It was like 3:45 ok?) We looked at the menu and saw:
Chai $4.50. Oregon Chai. Uck.
Mocha $4.00
Steamer $4.00
A four dollar steamer. You know what steamer is right? Its hot milk with one shot of flavor. Normally flavor is like .30 addition, if that. And milk ... how expensive is milk anyway? Well, then Harmony asked "How much for just a hot cup of milk, no flavor?"

The snotty girl replied "Its the SAME price as a steamer. $4.00"
"A cup of milk is $4.00?" Harmony asked gaspingly back?
"Yes." And we walked away shocked, telling the kids that there would be no special drinks today.
Four dollars. Four dollars for a cup of milk. 12 oz. A cup and a half. do you know how much a gallon of milk costs? Three dollars, tops. Four dollars if you are like camping and shopping at the only "convenient" store within twenty miles. But then, even then .... when the hiked up prices are outrageous ... its OK. But, four dollars for a cup and a half of steamed milk is beyond outrageous. Its like not even worth arguing about ... like, how do you justify something like that? You don't! That's how!
We walked away and I ranted while the waterfall overflowed its wetness upon me. I think I missed some of the whole waterfall experience because I was so caught up with the milk!
"Maybe," I said to Harmony. "Maybe their milk is so expensive because they milk it right there and its hot from the utters and the cow eats organic, multnomah falls grown grass..."
"Yeah .... that's it Heather. They have a cow."
"Can I go ask them? Can I go ask the snotty coffee girls if their milk is so expensive because they milk it right there???"
"No Heather. You can't ask them. Lets just pretend that is actually the case."

Well Multnomah Falls Coffee shop. I do not understand thee ... but I choose to believe that somewhere, you have a cow and that you serve the freshest steamed milk in the northwest.

My Portlandia

A busy Sunday morning coffee shop. I wish I were invisible so I could better speculate each person. To stand right next to them and actually hear each word - rather than my poor attempt of listen in in from afar. Whats their story? Why are they here?

I analyze their dress. This culture, this "Portlandia" 90's style that lingers and attracts and stagnates. Wool sweaters, rain boots, overalls, floral print, fuzzy hair, high waisted jeans. Make up free faces, tattooed arms (and hands, necks...) Comfortable. Flannel, Cotton, fleece.

Beneath the facade smiles, I'm sure there is pain - there always is. But their people. Umbrella free on a very rainy day people. (Except for that one man in fitted jeans with his designer pursed girlfriend - the California plate must be theres.)
I just really like this place called Portland. Where bikers are peddlers not leather wearers. This place that knows good coffee and knits their own socks and have season passes to places like the zoo. Where people are comfortable with their body, in their body - maybe a little too much so. With all its obvious liberal flaws - there sure is a lot of acceptance in this little big city. I mean, people are OK with who they are and who I am, and who you are. And most even want to hear about it ... as long as your gosh darn opinion is not forced upon them.

These people here, I mean, I am one of them. I am from here, well not really but kinda. I want to be from here. I like it here. I want to be here. I feel like this Portland culture "where young people come to retire" is lazy, and perhaps that is why its so gloriously appealing. But even with the go green/organic/recycle push ... there is still a dull drum or plainness. To accept the "make up free, cozy look" ... there is a bit of sloppy too. But we don't like to tell each other when were sloppy.

Though there is some (beauty that is) ... I feel like the sloppy brings a void of beauty. Were created for beauty. To be beautiful. To crave it. To see it. To make it and admire it. When we purposefully chose to make our lives void of it ... were making our lives void of the essence of the King of Glory. He is here, in Portland. I see him. I see the evidence of him. I know this culture suffocates Him out. Its a massive push to rid ourselves of him ... but I won't let that stop me from experiencing Him.

Here’s Me

I don’t know what stops me from blogging, I think about it often, I put it on many a list – but it never seems fitting to blog simply to check it off a list; though I do so enjoy checking off lists. I was thinking tonight back to many high school nights when I was the “star” of the school play. I loved those nights. I loved performing and having the attention and the affirmation after – but after the performances, I just wanted to leave!

I was thinking about traveling and my day in Amsterdam or 3 days in Bangkok. I loved those days, being around the crowds and masses and un recognizable faces. But I loved more than that my times alone in my room or hotel at night.

Thinking about Camps and conferences and youth group outings and Applebee’s and YWAM and Denny’s and Party’s. I liked them … but I liked them most when they were over and I was alone, or at least in bed and the noise died.

I never noticed it then, but I did notices my “bi-polar” type emotions though I could never narrow them down or pin point triggers. Everybody told me I was extroverted, because I was so outgoing and confident and had so many friends and like to lead things. You don’t go against what people tell you, I mean were talking about the same people who told me I was to be a pastor.

You see, all those years, I was an introvert struggling to be an extrovert. I lovd people with a passion, but didn’t give myself ample alone time. Oh I liked my alone time! My room in high school was a haven. 

This was my space. Perhaps this is why I did not go to bed until 2 am, cause after my whole schedule, I would come in here with candles and music and lights and be alone. I just did not do it purposefully.

Tonight was the school Christmas party – so much fun! But when it was over, I was done. Done being with people. I praise the Lord for allowing me to have my own room this year. I was reading about introverts on Wikipedia just now and it said that they are not necessarily shy people, but people who get energy from being alone. They often like reading, writing, soft music and blogging. Haha, here I am! Well anyways, that’s just what I am thinking about tonight.

Leaves fall.

I’ve been thinking about Fall. Its my favorite of the seasons you know. I am simply in awe of the sudden weather change and the shifting color in the leaves, from a bright green, to a deep orange – until they fall on the ground and turn brown.

I made a tree out of cardboard and construction paper for my hallway. As Katie picked it up a couple orange leaves fell off. “Heather, the leaves fell!” She exclaimed almost worried, with an unspoken question of whether I would fix the art project. I just responded with “The tree is dying Katie, the leaves have to fall off.” I’ve been thinking about how the tree is dying as it looses its leaves, and yet the dying process is so beautiful.

My Grammy is dying. She has always been a strong tree, and yet like fall, she is quickly deteriorating like a shocking shift in the weather. My initial response is much like Katie’s, I want to repair her with urgency – but she is dying, therefore her leaves must fall. She is the most beautiful in this dying process. Her wrinkles and scars and wounds are more attractive than I imagine her skin to have ever been in her youth. I am glad that our Lord made the dying process beautiful.

# 2 – Canada and Bust

Well, we accomplished one on the list that I thought might not get done. For our four day fall break, we drove to Canada. Katie Stevens, Angela Morton, Heather Potter and Chelsea Fisher. We crammed into my two door car and took off on the adventure with passports, snacks, a gps, and a hotel reservation. And, we had a great time! We learned about flashing green lights and exchange rates and kilometers. We walked downtown Vancouver at night and noted how safe it felt compared to Portland, but I concluded I still like Portland so much more. We didnt get any stamps at the Us or Canada Boarder, but we did all drive the car in Canada at some point, and that is pretty cool. Even though my car died 256 miles away from Portland on the way back and we needed to get a tow with a dude named Tarent, we all made it back safe and were glad we went. With a Canada patch not sewed on my backpack, I can say – CHECK!

An Abstract

Pounding, sound deaf walls, concrete floor.

Glass heart, pillow shield, arrows flying;

feathers, shattered mirrors.

 

Broom swept, ashes kept, trash dumped, stained glass beauty.

#21

I was reading over my Bucket List from my birthday last year and realized I never posted this one!

In August Heather and I took Lauren to McMinimis Edgefield for her 21st Birthday. Edgefield is an old poor farm turned Winery. It was a glorious breezy day. We all looked cute. We choose to eat lunch in the main building. We were waiting for a table, when Lauren giggled and pointed at the bar and said "we could eat in there!" So we did.

Then we went down into a cellar for some wine tasting. It was like $5 for a couple different types, so we all got different ones and ended up trying like 12 different ones. I discovered that I do not like red wine. Heather does. I prefer a chilled white wine, even though I still only kinda liked a couple of them, it was really fun.

There was a wedding going on there that day too and it was great to see everybody walking around in their outfits. So many people, enjoying life and each other. I felt privileged that I got to spend that day with those two girls.

Weed in Madras

So Angela and I are like at this Shell Station on the outskirts of Madras. Were on our way back from a short trip to Bend for the day with Katie and Sarah. It was a truck stop, supposedly said the sign. The gas lady wore an oversized shirt with a semi-truck covering the back, on top of tight black pants that settled on some thick, white sketchers. She had bleached long hair and chunky bangs, and crinkled skin. I think she might have been in her 40’s, but her body aged her to be much older.

So anyways, this gas lady, she comes to my door to get my card and I dig through my purse on my lap. Because my window is broke my door is open,and when  the contents of my purse go spilling out the lady yells a four letter word out of shock. She leans in for a closer look at the little baggies of mysterious green loose leaf laying unmarked.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think that was some’tin else! I mean, I have no problem using the stuff I just would not flaunt it like that!” Her crooked yellow teeth showed some serious substance abuse behind thin, sad lips.

“OH!” I responded … Its loose leaf tea I bought today! I opened it and showed her the label. “You want to smell?” She stepped back to start pumping my gas and was for the first time since our meeting at an appropriate arm length away from me.  She proceeded to babble on about how ****ing stupid people are and that is really all we are as humans anyways. Her mumblings became muffled as she walked across the empty lot to pick up a stick to shove in my gas tank to make the nozzle stay in. Angela and I just sat and like looked at each other.

I told her of my desire for Pumpkin lattes, and how I don’t like Starbucks, but I do like Dutch Bros. except they are not getting the holiday flavors until next Saturday. That is why I had this loose leaf tea. I got some pumpkin spice Chai to enjoy this week. I nodded in agreement that there are a lot of stupid decisions in the world. I noticed that she wore no wedding band, but did wear several clanky gold rings on fingers laden with long burgundy nails.  Her hands were wary, they told a story of sadness and pain, hands that had seen a lot of stupid people.

Angela and I  ate pretzel sticks and wondered how much longer we were going to be on this “quick stop off” that was interfering with our timing the length of our trip. In the back of my mind, I observed the lady, her dress, her words, her empty laugh. I was sad that she only had seen stupid people and that she liked her substances. I was sad as I drove away laughing about her. How many like her are there? And we like, don’t even have the time to go beyond the shallowness.

Its the most wonderful time, of the year!

A leaf fell at my foot, softly.  The morning crisp air bit my nose in a most delicious way. The rain smelled wonderfully … like a song. Sweet Potato fries. Pumpkin Smoothies. Did I tell you Fall is HERE?!

Three nice things

1. We had a going away party for Lauren at Macaroni Grill. The warm rosemary bread kept making it to my mouth. We surprised Lauren, by being there, but hid behind our menu’s when she came in. We drew on the paper table cloth. The men wore ties. I miss Lauren already.

2. We spent like and hour in Boarders. I found an atlas of the world and got lost. Sarah Jones came and admired it with me. We mapped out our different trips for each other. And talked of our adventures. And flipped pages through country after country that we have yet to visit. Of places we have been and long to return. The group I guess was waiting for us to finish talking, but when they heard our topic, they realized their would be no finish. We all left, and Sarah and I found ourselves salivating over this world map sheet paper in the paper store.I like Sarah and not having to finish.

3. I get back to school and drink a grapefruit IZZE. I find out my lifelong friend Kirsten is engaged! It makes me think of all my memories with her. Our like 17 year friendship. I wonder upon the paper in my notebook, created a good 6 years ago with her yellow and purple wedding plans in it. I smile, because I see her picture with Gavin from today. I really like him. And I trust him. He was able to put that smile on her face. I think I like this growing up thing.

Moment

" Live for the moment, but not at the expense of the future." -Unknown.

(Taken from the Journal Justine gave me where she randomly wrote quotes down.)

How fitting this quote was. If you have talked to me lately, you have probably heard me discuss this. School starts for me in 16 days... AHHH! My excitement level? Off the charts. I am so excited for the future, but not at the expense of my present. My entire life I have looked up, looked forward, looked out ... never looked down or in the mirror or in a circle. Gazing out the window in Mr. Bentleys Class... dreaming. Driving in a bumpy van toward Mt. Ararat ... dreaming. Working at Outback ... dreaming. I missed so much. I missed many of Mr. Bentleys wonderful words. I missed the beauty of drives and of so much of Europe. I missed the broken co-workers that were silently screaming at me ... because I was dreaming.

I dream now... but I am so fully aware of my present. What am I doing today? What can I learn from God today? The people I am with. The silent screams. The beauty. The wise words. The silence and joy and freedom. I am living very much in the moment, but it is not at an expense to my future. They are hand in hand. Who and what I am today, is making me into what I need for two weeks from now. I need them both, I focus on them equally. Heather always tells me "Moderation. Everything in Moderation." Your right Heather. Your right.