ipodless transportation

I walked down 82nd St. The street where the prostitutes are. Where sex trafficing takes place. Where shootings happen. The street that is as famaliar as the cold-e-sac I grew up on. I thought about how a priority before next fall will be the purchase of an ipod, because after all if I am going to be spending that much time on buses, I want to drown people out and listen to something. Right? I don't know. I have gotten use to life with out one. From that day whe my ipod was stolen in S. Korea. I have to say, I remember much more of the trip without my ipod, becuase I was able to focus on where I was and listen to the sounds around me, and to my thoughts.

I was on the bus today, trying to fill out some Geology packets, watching the druggie lady who really needed a fix, and listen to a conversation in the back of the bus. Andre was telling another young woman about his church, New Directions (which reminded me of Glee, and I got slightly distracted and missed part of the conversation.) She said she had heard of it, and that her friend volunteered there, but they didn't go to church. He told her about how great it was, and that she should come visit. And she said she would. She would go to that church and ask for Andre.

Then Angela got on board. She was a beautiful woman, about my moms age. The bus driver commented on her shoes and how brave she was to walk in her three inch heels. She explained that she had worn those high of shoes for 50 years and why stop now? It was her Sunday best and she was coming from church with her two grandchildren. Andre came to the front and started talking to Angela. He asked her if she were coming from church. She was. He told her about how he needs to go back to church, its been two weeks and that is not good. "Oh thats not good at all!" Angela chimed in, she explained to that honey that he needed to be at church for his well being. And he agreed with his head hung. She told him he neeeded Jesus. He knew. She told him of her church, Immanuel Luthern, and how he should come visit. He said he would. He would go to that church and ask for Angela.

As he depared from the bus, she yelled after him that Jesus loved him. Then she sat there, holding onto her two grandchildren and she prayed for that man. She prayed out loud. She prayed fervently. She prayed with emotion. I wanted to talk to her, I think I should have, but I did not. I didn't know what to say. I wanted her to know that she inspired me. That she was a witness with her life and I could tell it just oozed out of her. What a priviledge for those two kids to spend time with such an amzaing woman. I praised the Lord that there are still good people in this world, and that they are in Portland sharing the gospel.

Last Sunday, it was Easter, and a woman was riding the bus, and standing there as each person got on, reminding them that it was Easter and that our Lord was risen!

Then on the way home, on the max. There was a young mom and her 18 month old son. He was in a stroller and very antsy. They had had a long day, and she was exhausted and needed some help, and a break. He kept trying to get out, and with each wiggle he would irritatingly interupt her precious day dreams that took her away from the dull reality she found herself in. She finally broke and ripped the object from his hands that he had disobediently taken from under the stroller. He cried and them screamed "I HATE YOU." I hardly beileved I heard right. I had to look, and he said it again. Barely understandable because of his young age, but that was most certainly what he said. He said it 29 times inbetween Lloyd center and 60th St. 29 times the toddelr told his mother that he hated her. She just told him to stop, then looked back out the window and ignored him. --- Where on earth did he learn to say that? Why was she taking it? Where was the grandmother Angela?

I prayed for that woman. I was reminded that there are Christians in Portland, and that they are ministering, but there are more, like this young mom, who need to hear.

We went for a walk

We took a walk today, me, myself, and I. We walked past my dream house, and an orange house, and a house with a breakfast nook. While we walked spring was above my head, and beneath my feet. We discussed amongst ourselves the neighborhoods, and the diversity that lies from one street to the next. How there is a sense of security when strolling in an over grown ally behind large gabled houses, but a sense of defense when walking down a broad street, on the sidewalk in front of an "apartment" complex where the name is scratched out.

We talked about how there is a class distinction here in America, here in Portland, though we assume it to be a foreign thing from our historical missions teachings. We fought between ourselves of whether we felt we were in a certain class, of whether we considered ourselves to be "higher" than another. One of us said no, absolutly not, there is no distinction, not here, not in America. Another one of us said yes, I think there is ... there is a feeling of entitlement. Me ... Ya, I feel it. I find myself feeling like I am exempt, like I am entitled to more. But I am so far removed from the reality of truth.

I, myself and I, we are applying now for DHS help, so I can live and eat. This is the very program I am attending school to better understand and change so that people are not dependant upon it. Am I exempt or entitled? I think not. One of me says, yes I am ... but the other part of me catches this attitude and wants to rid the other half of it. I don't want to feel entitled, I am not better. The Lord, he does not see class. There is no difference in his mind between the dream house, or the orange house, or the named etched out apartment complex.

We returned from our walk, and we picked a little bit of spring from the park where the homeless sleep. Its the same spring that grows on my safe bubbled campus. We put it in a clean vase, me, myself and I. We put that little bit of spring in a vase.

Autum in P-town

Yesterday I had a day all to myself and it was amazing! It started in the Hollywood district with a stop off at Trader Joe's to pick up a few more boxes of the amazing pumpkin pancake mix (just making sure there is enough to get through the season). I purposefully left my bag in the car so that I would have to buy one inside and splurged to buy the brown one I have had my eye on for a while now. ( I was unable to find a picture of it online to show you all...
Then I had breakfast at Panera Bread, which is becoming one of my most favorite of places, and how convenient that it was right next door to Trader Joe's! I had a pumpkin "Muffie", just like a little muffin thing.
I drove and parked at Lloyd Center and found it odd to be in the place we use to go every day after Thanksgiving, I watched the Double Tree Inns elevator go up and down in its elegant style. The max dropped me off at China town and I walked for an hour and a half seeking out a great coffee shop to do homework. Well, I got lost in Powells books, found Voodoo Donuts, almost bought a dress at Avalon and fed 29 pigeons at Pioneer Square. The max too me back to my car 20 minutes before my four hour time limit was up. I drove next to Mt. Tabor which is super close to my school and did most of my homework, until a dude with a really loud drum interrupted my Spanish pronunciation exercises. Back in the car, to Hawthorne, another attempt at a cool coffee shop. Didn't find one. I sat in the little coffee shop attached to "Powells Hawthorne" and finished up my Pentateuch. I want to go back to Hawthorne.
Gas prices lowered. I bought pumpkin creamer at Safeway. I went back to the dorms and found everyone back from Mid-Semester Break! I watched 7 episodes of the first season of Boy Meets World, Set up the empty room in our hall into a hang out room and went to bed.
I am so glad I live in Portland!