Mama Sirens

I was at a MAX station and I heard a siren, an ambulance. And I said a prayer for the person the siren was rushing towards ... then I resumed back to my previous thought. It was like I was watching TV and a commercial break came, and went. But I went back to the commercial.
Why did I pray for the siren? What made me do that? I always do that.
Why do I always do that? Because my mom always did that.
I remember being little and driving in the van with mom, and every time she heard a siren she would pray. Lots of time in her head, and I would try to talk to her, and she wouldn't respond. Then she would tell me she was praying. Some times she would pray out loud, just start praying. Sometimes she would announce she was going to pray, sometimes she would ask me to pray. When she would ask me to pray, it was not one of those times that was up for discussion or debate, it was just time to pray. Sometimes she would pray when my friends were in the car. I would get embarrassed. I don't know why. I don't know why I would get embarrassed of her praying, all my frirends were Christians. But even so, she kept praying for sirens all those years. And now ... now I pray for those sirens.
I was sharing this with Angela and Heather. Ang said she prays for sirens too, becuase her mom always did. Heather said she was in the van one of the times my mom prayed ... and she has been praying for sirens ever since too.
Its kinda funny, cause its just this thing. Its a siren, but we hear them all the time. Its this habbit I did not know I had... and I have it because of my mom. I really like that. I keep being told thatI am like my mom, that I do things like my mom, and though we (Harmony and I) scrunch our noses at that ... we know it is a good thing. Because my mom is a mom who prays. Thank you Mama.

Confidant

Yes, we have the same name … and yes we get many jokes because of it. But no, we are not twins. Who names their twins the same name anyway?? One of the downsides of having a best friend with the same name of you is that you can’t switch back and forth between first and third person very smoothly … it just doesn’t make sense.

Heather (speaking in first person here of not myself) has been a constant in my life for ten years now, that may not sound like much to you older folk … but to a girl of twenty two, a decade is a long time. Though there is no Chuckie Cheese Barbie themed party this year, (embarrassing blast to the past of our 15^th!) I do enjoy thinking about today, March 29^th, as her birthday.

I love that I have a best friend who is as cool* as she is. She collects tea cups, and likes antique stores and wants a log cabin bed in her house one day. She likes blue. She has a cell phone* and her license* and a sweet grandpa car to drive. She likes Gov cup chai and hot dogs with tuna*, and cheese itz and my cooking. Although she can’t really pull off most hats*, she wears boots and totally owns them! She has a mom who calls me daughter #2 and a family who accept me as another member. (They even let me stay with them while I was sick on Christmas!) She listens to broadway soundtracks and takes Sunday afternoon naps and wants to visit Europe. She watches Say Yes to the Dress and plans on having a whole bunch of kids* and raising them as naturally as possible. She is more of a recycling tree hugger than I am. She likes frisbee golf and basketball and volleyball. She is a jr. high basketball coach, has been to state in the shot put (and volleyball), and is a stinkin forest technician! She is going to school to be a teacher and loves kids books and is really smart at math. When she leaves her hair natural, it curls, and she just got these new glasses that are just so awesome! She really good at listening to me talk, and talk, and talk, and talk… and talk. She loves a “good story”* and is really good at rummy* and helped me to love country music. She is friends with my friends*, so really… they are our friends. Even when she is alone, she goes to church, and strives to follow the Lords direction with her life. She loves with constancy and is lives with consistency. She is an optimistic, encouraging, introverted, Woman of God and I am proud to call her my best friend, and honored that I am hers as well.

Willow

At this park in Alabama

There were willow trees swaying,

I love willow trees!

I think I want to be married under one.

They remind me of Pochohantus and of Grandmother Willow

... I wasn't allowed to watch that movie because of the tree

I love the way they rest and move slow and smooth

I love the way they seem to be gentle, yet strong

Different from an Oak or Maple, or any other

I love the way they drape and enclose

This spot on the Tennessee River,

I think I could stay there for a long time.

Slowin' down

I've always associated Alabama with the song, not knowing anything about it but that it is a "Sweet Home," ... whatever that means.I know that in the Movie there were cool looking plantation houses and people with thick accents. I knew the general vacinity of where the State was located - over there, in the south. Its just a big grouping in my mind. Then, I came here.

I flew into Nashville, which by the way looks like such a cool city! I've been there once about four years ago for like an hour with my brother, but never really explored it. Then we had dinner at Blessed cracker Barrel .... why do wonderful things not come to Oregon?

Then to Alabama. I've heard it said that life is slower here, just like the sky is bigger in Colorado. (It is!) And I think both statements are true. Besides the fact that people here have a terrible habit of running red lights, things are a bit slower. Especially on the Army base, I mean, the only cafe closes at 2 ok?! But seriously, people walk slower, and talk slower, and bag groceries slower. And if those people were anywhere but here, I would think them to be lazy ... but it somehow fits, like, its ok. They are not lazy, they are slow, and I think being slow is a good thing. Because I don' know how to be slow.

The kids wanted me to see their favorite park. It was wonderful. It was on the banks of the Tennessee River (I know how to spell that words thanks to the grits song!) We ate at a picnic table in the sun. A heavy set man with a thick southern accent who was on his lunch time "drop that food down" walk, stopped to talk to us.... literally to talk TO us. He told us of why Alabama is the best state, and of the river, and the forests, and something about Enron. He spoke in Outline format, said the word of his next category, paused, then began giving main points and a description under each topic. He was knowledgeable and full of facts, but shared them in the way that a 70 year old math teacher might. The funny thing is that I walked away knowing all sorts of things about Alabama that I never knew before!

The only other person at the park was a young mom and her three kids. I just couldn't help but stare at her and her accent, I don't know why it fascinates me so. Even the three year old talked different! I want so badly to pick up this way of speech. Alabama, I havn't seen much of you yet, but I do like what I see. I love the natural beauty. I love the speech. I am in awe by the fact that every car on the road is no more than two years old. I love that you have Cracker Barrel and Chik-fil-A. But, you are no Portland. I love coming here, and seeing you, but I will take my Portlandia ... I just wish I could have it a little more slow.

I am on my way out for the day. Thinking about the grace of our lord. Today I am tired, but in my weaknesses his power is made perfect!

My world

So there is this map... and its like really big. I saw it the first time I went to Ikea and I have kinda coveted it since. Every titile I go I make sure I drag who ever is with me to the art section to look at the marvelous map. If you have ever been to Ikea with me, then you know what I am talking about! I stand in front of it and dream. With my head tilted slightly sideways, I dream of where I would put it in my house someday. How I would teach my kids the world with it. I just soak it in and take in the beauty of it. Then, I sigh and I wander away knowing I will never buy it.

At Christmas the price of the map dropped! I was pretty stoked ... but there was still no way I could ever justify it. I remember telling people that the price dropped and maybe I should just buy it. But I did not. Isn't that what Ikea, or most stores are anyways? Just a bigger version of what we want but will never have?

Well, you see I just had this birthday. It was my 22 and besides the fact that I feel now very old and mature and expect to be treated better by other adults .... I didn't expect anything. Here is the other things you must know ... I have these really good friends.

Friday afternoon I was working at the desk, and from the doors on both sides of me girls started pouring in with baloons singing happy birthday! I don't know how many were there, at least 25. I was told later that I had a pretty upset face, if you were one of the girls there sining to me and perhaps thought this, please know I was not upset! I was surprised and yes, a bit angry that I had not figured it out. But I WAS suprised and LOVED IT! Then, these girls gave me my present. A little map, and on it were country flags with different peoples names on it. "We all bought you a country!" Um.... cool I thought. Then, through the double doors it came. This long long cardboard box wrapped all happy birthday style. As I opened it I saw that it was from Ikea, then on the end of the box it had a picture of the map. "MY MAP! YOU GUYS GOT ME MY MAP!" I was so taken away. You see, my friends, 36 of them to be exact all "purchased" a country and went in together to get me my map. Many of the countries were specific to places that people have been or lived in or are going to, so it made it even more personal.

Its still in its box, hidden away in the basement. It is being saved. Saved for my house that I will hopefully live in this summer and for a long time thereafter. I have the small map on my wall and am daily reminded of the love I am surrounded by. I was just this girl with a dream of owning a silly map. And my friends, they went in together to make one of my dreams come true. Now I dont have to tilt my head and wonder and sigh. I own the map. Its mine. Someday I will teach my kids about the world... and about the people who loved me enough to give it to me. If youw were one of those people, Thank you. Thank you for givng me the world.

Clenched Fists

The Lord is so patient! Oh how hard it is to relinquish control over to Him. I know he is so much more capable than I. He has proved Himself over and over and over again … and yet it’s so easy to get defensive and to want to fight against him. Here is the ironic part, it’s not easy. It’s really hard to fight God, because he wins. He wins every time. Actually, he has already won … he just waits for us to give him the glory for the victory.

I feel like he is this strong father and I am beating his chest with my clenched fists … and you know what he does? He looks down at me, at my wrinkled face and gritted teeth and pounding fists … and he sticks his chest out further so I can hit it harder. He doesn’t grab my hands and force them to a halt. He doesn’t yell at me. He doesn’t hit back. He doesn’t walk away. Oh no … he looks down and he smiles and beams down his love. Then he takes me up in his arms and wraps me in a love that breaks all my defenses. It’s like this paradigm that I don’t really understand … or do I?

I sit here trying to visualize God, trying to understand what it takes to love like He. I am reminded of a time when he showed me that very thing. I was in Armenia, at the orphanage. There was one little boy, and he was so angry. He was not more than three, but while all the other kids were rejoicing in our presence, he fought us. He had clenched teeth… and I took hold of him. And he fought me. He took clenched fists to my chest. And I just hugged him and smiled at him and loved him. I know he didn’t understand my love. I know he didn’t want to relinquish his control to me. But he did. After my arms were around him, his back stopped arching, his head stopped banging, his fists relaxed, and he laid his head on my chest ... and received my love.

I think God wants me to lay my head on his chest and receive his love. I know he does. I am just like that little boy; I know that His love is greater. I know that he is the strong tower, but this sin nature makes me fight. I am glad I serve a patient God. A God who loves me with constancy. Because, sadly … I know my life will be full of clenched fists – but knowing that he is there waiting for me to relinquish my control … I know that I can do it. I know that my God is mighty to save and that he alone is worthy of my praise.

Of sick days and snow days.

I've been really sick. Head, nose, throat, glands, ears, eye. It made for... a very unproductive week, an application not finished, homework not touched, a snow storm only observed, a very used bed and many missed conversations I am sure.

But this week ... I've been really blown away by love. You know when you are little and you are at home and Mom takes care of you. There is a comfort level that is there, but it is backed by an ounce of expectancy - moms are suppose to do that. They almost enjoy a sick day home with us just because they get to dote on their "trying-to-be-so-very-independent-child." But when your at school, I came to expect a level of independence, I mean people my age are not suppose to take care of me ... right? Wrong. Were talking about the church here.

I am overwhelmed with the amount of love and care I have received in my just three days of being "out of commission." On Wednesday I had nine girls look me in the eye and promise them that I would let them know if I needed anything! My dishes were washed. My cups of tea were brewed. The last of the Christy Movies were brought from the library. I was sent to bed. I was handed ibuprofen. My cup of water was refilled and refilled and refilled. Jess covered my shift and sent me to bed. Amanda covered a shift and sent me to bed. Katie found someone to cover my late night shift because she knew I was too stubborn to ask. Oh friends, why are you so good?

Natalie T. came and hugged me close, knowing that I was contagious ... but touching me still. I felt at that moment like the leper healed by Jesus. I was unclean, untouchable ... and yet I was touched.

Natalie S. was my voice at Dorm Dinner. The girls told me to stay in bed, but I just wanted to be with them!

Angela watched The king and I with me. She sat with me cause I just needed someone around and was so tired of being alone in bed.

Then, around midnight, I could not sleep! "God, I know you are here, among even this. What do you have in store? How can I see you and learn from you??" I texted Ang, Chels and Katie and they rushed to my side. They laid hands and prayed for me. We had not prayed yet? For for heavens sake not?? Then Katie read to me from Psalms. Then they got my quiet worship music and pushed play. I went to bed and slept for almost 6 solid hours. I saw him alright. He was right there beside me, and he came in the form of my three friends.

Do you have those friends? Those friends who will rush to your aid at mid-night? I do ... and I am blown away by them and their love. They expressed sympathy after weeks of me expressing none. They loved after so long a time of me not loving well. They sat with me and held my hand, when I didn't want to talk... The very thing I have failed in so strongly. There was no judgment. They were and are constant! I complain and fight against their authority, and they just keep loving.

I was having a conversation last week with Katie about how I like to be in control. She laughed and said she cant WAIT for the day when I get married and have to relinquish control. That's just it, you cant choose to control me ... unless I relinquish it and give it to you. Why is that so hard? Today I was walking with Chels and she said she loved that I was letting her take control. I had relinquished to her and her authority. She took me to urgent care. And Walgreens. And let me come to the cafeteria, but gave me a time limit and sent me to bed only after watching me take my pills. You girls are absolutely amazing. I haven't had to pretend. You have let me be exactly what I am and have sat in my crap with me.

Thank you RA girls for covering my shifts. And looking me in the eye. And stopping in my room just to check on me. Thank you girls in my hall for being understanding. For being quiet while I slept in the middle of the afternoon. For asking about me. Thank you Katie for being constant. For getting my movie. For reading to my the Psalms. Thank you Chels for letting me relinquish authority to you. For taking me to the Dr. For coming to my aid at Mid-night. And thank you Ang. For being to me the very thing I have not been to you. For demonstrating love in its strongest form. And for sitting with me. I now understand. And tonight ... I go to sleep feeling very, very full.

Saturday Scones

I woke up

and drank a cup of

Traditional Medicines Throat Coat tea

while sitting in my orange chair

straining my eyes

around the back of the building

through the window

glimpsing the rising sun

and the morning clouds.

Pancakes in the lower lounge

with the commuters

and jam.

A drive with Sarah Jones

to a new part of Portland

at a restaurant

called "Cup and Saucer.

Coffee in my hands

Scones on the table

Conversation

about the faithfulness of God.

Sitting now at the desk

I just bought myself Birks online

after all my credit card said I get double cash back

just because its almost my birthday.

Its still sunny.

I painted my toenails.

I have a pile of cards to fill out and write.

Date tonight with Katie Stephens.

Chelsea's birthday is today.

Its Saturday.

This is exactly as a Saturday should be

scones and all.

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.