paper hearts

This is a dream I had last night.Maybe someone will understand it.

Two of my good friends came over to my house to practice for worship in my basement. There was a keyboard and a piano down there, and we dabbled a bit with different tunes, but then realized we needed to go get sheet music. I was reluctant. I didn't want to go upstairs and get the pages. I would be alone. But I knew it was necessary. I climbed the stairs and found what I was looking for.

But it wasn't sheet music.

In my hands, I held a chain of index cards that contained perforated edges in the shape of hearts. I punched out the paper hearts and began fiercely throwing them over the railing to the basement [I was a bit annoyed]. The hearts were all different colors, and they fluttered to the ground downstairs. Suddenly the basement began to flood, and the water washed the hearts towards the pianos, where they became magnets and various shapes and stuck to the wall.

And then it ended.

so you want to be a writer?

if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents 
or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it. 
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you. 
there is no other way. 
and there never was.
[charles bukowski] 

why we love city lights

I know it's late in the day, and I really should get out of bed. I have Cheerios to eat and a parking ticket to call on, but words are on my heart right now.

I was driving through downtown Minneapolis the other day - well, I wasn't the one driving, my dad was. We had just entered one of those underground tunnels on the freeway. The kind that is lit by strangely gold-orange colored lights and has no-passing lanes. They're usually short, only a thirty seconds or so tops; you race along with six or seven other cars, somewhat suspended together. I remember, as soon as we entered that tunnel, I felt the strangest sense of peace.

The contentment continued as we burst out the other side, and Minneapolis grew in angles over our heads. I couldn't figure it out for the longest time, the whole ride back actually. And then, just as we were pulling into the driveway, I realized it was the lights. The city lights calm me.

Growing up in the suburbs, I would never have considered myself a city girl; in fact, I actually feel like I belong more so in the country (with it's wide open spaces and fences and forests). But now that I've been at college for a year and a half and met my share of wonderful people from various backgrounds, I've realized that I'm more 'city' than I bargained for. I buy scones, I can drive one-ways with ease, I know about all the art museums and Orchestra Hall, I love driving around Lake of the Isles, I love coffees and cafes and the traffic outside. The list goes on, but there are many aspects of the city that have somehow situated themselves inside me.

I was discussing this with Amy the other night and telling her how I loved the lights and not just because they were beautiful, and she said she could relate.

"I think it's from when we were little," I said, "I just remember it being nightime and sitting in the backseat while we drove."

"Yeah I remember that too, except with my sisters."

"I think it was just comforting, knowing I was safe. Nothing could get me, I was with my parents and it was safe."

"That's it. That's why we love city lights."

i was waiting for the longest time.

I have decided that if i get an apartment, it should look a little bit like this.

Someday.

Because right now, I am poor.

And can barely afford my dorm. I would need a lot of curtains for this room.

But that's obviously my bike and my husband sitting right there on the couch, so I guess this means I'm going to land a great job and will soon be enjoying brick walls and conservatory-like conditions.

christmas according to gap

Working in retail always has it's unexpected little surprises. Working in retail around Christmastime proceeds to reveal more then ever should have been and much of what needed to be.

Of course, a clothing store is bound to be busy in the last few days before Christmas Eve. In the past week, I have seen perfectly normal mothers in their turkey-print turtlenecks and high-waisted jeans become ravaging GI's, plundering just folded tables of clothing for their specific item. Piles of skirts are fiercely paged through as a certain size NEEDS to be located. Manners go out the window in rites of passage within a store, and I've seen more then one woman vigorously cut off by another within the short aisles.

The men don't seem to have this warring problem when it comes to clothes and shopping...they meander slowly about the store, observing the pandemonium from a distance and then casually pick up a sweater they think their wife will appreciate and amble towards the cash register. Easy.

I've had my share of stories from these last couple days, but one exchange stuck out to me more then the rest (minus of course the woman who proceeded to remove clothing in front of the cash register to prove that her jeans legitimately carried the Gap label):

I had been working the register for approximately three hours without a slow in customers when the young woman who was next in line began to cautiously make her way to the counter. She seemed very unsure of herself and a bit self conscious as she laid a pair of men's jeans and an expensive, men's peacoat on the counter. She smiled shakily and brushed back a stringy bang from her face. She looked pretty young, twenty at the oldest.

"Do you need a gift receipt for any of this?" I asked her.

"Um..no..I mean, well, no..I don't think so," she stammered, "I don't think I'll be returning this. I forgot what it feels like to buy clothes for him." She smoothed her rumpled shirt and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "My husband's coming home tomorrow," she smiled a silly grin, "He just got his visa approved and he's coming home tomorrow."

"Oh really? Where's he from?" I asked as I placed the clothes she was buying into the big red bag.

"Um, Mexico," she smiled oddly and rubbed her pale arm, "It feels so strange, I can't believe it." She chattered for a bit about the arrangements and when he would be coming, telling me many more details then the normal Christmas customer usually would. She seemed sweet, but strange.

"Well, I'm so happy for you...just in time for Christmas too!" I told her, "Looks like you're all set here, if you want to sign right there you'll be good to go."

She was staring off into space, a vacant look in her eyes.

"Ma'am?"

"Oh..what?" she brushed her shirt nervously, "Sorry...I'm out of it."

"Not a problem," I said, "Here, sign right here."

She signed the scanner and then looked up at me, still smiling her perplexing grin as I handed her the bag of clothes.

"I have to go pick him up at the airport now, I think he's waiting. Bye." She had an awkward, tottering gait and moved slowly from the counter with her belongings, still smiling.

I hope he was there waiting for her. And I hope he really loves her too.

rainer maria rilke

i hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other. rainer maria rilke

From the moment I first read this, I could not have been more fascinated by it's deepness. If you put 'deep' into a thesaurus, you get words like 'dark' 'intense' 'rich' 'strong' 'bold' 'warm'. This describes the feeling I get when I grasp the tiniest corner of this quote, like percolated coffee on Sunday morning, and it makes me satisfied.

Solitude can be terrifying. Or restful. Depending on the type of person you are. For those who recharge by being with people, the thought of sitting alone and spending time thinking seems an averse choice. Why sit isolated, caught up in the maze of your thoughts, when you could be surrounded by the love and warmth of others who understand? For those who recharge by being alone, an unoccupied room is refuge and an open field with no one in sight for miles feels like home. Each type of person shies away from the opposite matter.

However, there is not a strong enough word I can use to describe the importance of solitude. When you love someone, it's easy to want to be with them as a constant. However, in order to further that bond, there must be solitude. Solitude is where we come to terms with our thoughts, where the Lord can clearly speak to us, where we rest, and where thinking goes unrestrained. This must be protected at all costs.

To truly love someone is to be thinking of their needs above your own...even if that means protecting them from yourself in some fashion. It is a difficult task, but one that will eventually yield great reward.

firmament

The firmament has waited to fall apart.It will be in November.

Then, when I am scuffling over sleet and concrete, when my fingers are too weak to write, when the sun gasps for air at five-hours-from-noon, I will glance up sharply. Something in our atmosphere has ripped. Only enough to let time slide out and dissolve

in the boiling pressure of infinite things. Didn't I cry out then? Didn't someone say we are fragile?

Far too fragile for something like real space. Especially since my spirit has been crumpled like the ultra-thin papers of ancient writing all crammed into clay; the Qumran cave that waits for a hurtling rock to interpret its insides. If the rock never comes,

the sea will.

(but paper is no match for water)

- Brianna Tongen Yes folks. I do go to college with her. It's okay be jealous.

Quick update though:

1. I finally got my long-awaited cartilage piercing. Not too drastic, I know, but it was a nice Merry Christmas surprise from Rahnny. We got cinnamon bagels and OJ, and then she drove me straight to the place and announced that I was getting it done, and she was paying for it.

2. I've been consuming bubble tea at an alarming rate this week. A friend of mine tried it for the first time on Saturday, and he described it as an "invasion of the mouth." I have to admit it's a pretty weird feeling, but worth it.

3. I am an acrobat. I cannot get in or out of my bunk at college without climbing onto my desk, swinging my leg awkwardly over the post, and then army crawling to my pillow due to the low ceiling. Getting out of bed in the morning would probably be a treat for someone to watch...I'm generally half asleep, trying to reach for the desk with my toes but frequently misinterpreting the distance and knocking various items too the ground in one big clatter. Yes, I have fallen out of bed several times this semester.

4. My roommates and I have discovered the pull-out bed in our dorm. It has remained out in the living room for a week now, and we have frequented it with Reeses Pieces, tea, and movies most nights.

5. I only have one more Anthropology class left. Enough said.

8:30am is too early to be learning about this kind of thing.

6. God is still doing crazy things (obv). Seriously, if I have a chance to talk with any of you in person, I'd love to tell you about this prayer thing and 3 am and the spiritual warfare and the faithfulness He's been showing - I don't mean that in your normal, everyday cliche way either. but seriously ask me.

7. There is a snowstorm coming tomorrow. I have a mixture of wonderful and hateful feelings about this. Mostly wonderful though because the weather has waited a legit amount of time before dumping thigh-high amounts of snow on our campus. That and I am getting pretty pumped to snowboard. Okay well, I should be typing my paper on the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu, but Amy and I are hungry now and are going to Punch pizza. K, bye.

obed warriors

I don't really have much time to write right now, but if any of you who read my blog could just be in prayer...there are some crazy spiritual warfare things going on. I've been hearing so many stories of the unseen world around us lately and it literally gives me chills. Two of my friends, Amy and Mishawn, have begun a group that meets to pray over the dorms and campus at 3am each week on Thursday/Friday. We want to try and pray over each specific dorm room with Scripture...our campus is in crazy need of prayer. I've always taken intercession and prayer for granted i think, but the Lord is truly asking something of us and we want to obey.

We don't really know what this is all about or why there is such an urgent need for prayer, but if you could truly be praying for this that would just be so appreciated and encouraging to me and the people in this group. If you want to check out some more info on it, there's a Facebook group on it called Obed Warriors.

We're kinda operating under the Scripture 2 Kings 6:15-17:

15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. "Oh, my lord, what shall we do?" the servant asked. ¹⁶ "Don't be afraid," the prophet answered. "Those who are with us are more than those who are with them." ¹⁷ And Elisha prayed, "O LORD, open his eyes so he may see." Then the LORD opened the servant's eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

the four loves

"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

Currently reading: The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis - its pretty phenomenal.

Please pick it up if you have time. It only has five chapters: Likings and Loves for the Sub-Human, Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity. It's a short read, but I think my outlook on love is changing for the better because of it.

paintballed window

As I sit here and struggle to write a six page paper on male anorexia, I thought I'd write a little blog, and now that I'm here, I realize I have nothing to say except various statistics on premorbid impulsiveness and the eating habits of adolescent men. I maybe have a little. I just turned on some Crooked Still, made some Good Earth tea, and got some almonds, and that helped my paper-writing mood a bit. Oh, our window got paintballed like an hour ago by some men in hoods. We're not sure who they are, although we have our suspicions. When we looked out the window, they quick threw their hoods up, ran, and jumped in the waiting car. the funny thing was, they drove off with the door open...even all the way around the corner. Made them feel more intense, maybe? Sadly, we no longer have a view to look at as our window is now a bunch of rainbow streaks. Welp, see ya later.

Please be satisfied with your body image men, Laur

lovestruck and words

I think we're all aware that the term 'Christian' doesn't hold the same countenance that it did even a century ago. So what then are we to refer to ourselves as?

Religious? Spiritual? Follower of Christ? ...Lovestruck.
Ultimate reality. Living for the unseen. The longing, the frustration, the peace.

How do we truly explain to someone who cannot see, who doesn't believe...all of the wonder, the comfort, the esteem, His jealousy, our fear and respect, the giving up of one's self, the significance, the passion, the consuming, the calm, the existence, the vigilance, the being.

Something epic. A legend, a crusade? So simple a child can grasp it, yet something that even the most perceptive theologian cannot completely unravel.

All the words in one book could not do. The English language cannot possibly capture it.
Can it?

How do we culminate that into one word for someone.

quote from googling God

"God, for me, is like someone who's already up when you've come downstairs in the morning and you're stumbling to get that cup of coffee and he's already there with his. And you sit on the front porch in a rocking chair and the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon and he says, `It's a beautiful sunrise!' And I say, `Yeah.'"

people i miss

So there are some people in my life that are not near, and I have been missing sooo much. I miss Jojo and her incredible insight on God. I miss our moms at restaurants. I miss her hugs and her happy-go-luckiness about life. I miss how we laugh at literally everything. I miss Liz and our sameness. I miss sitting on benches with her. I miss our families all in one house on holidays. I miss talking about Hondu and Africa and our different campuses. I miss shelby and her passion for God. I miss her freckles especially. I miss getting deep about life with her. I miss climbing into our tent and freezing our chips off in 30 degree weather. I miss discussing martyrs and living well and the Lord's power with her.

Two months is way too long.

meteor shower

I feel so alive today.

Last night, a group of us drove out to the country to watch the meteor shower. We caught the tail end of it but even so, it was beautiful. It was perfectly still out and the air was cold and clear. Each person was wearing about six layers of clothing, so we closely resembled large, multicolored lumps sitting out in a cornfield. Being under an expanse as large as the sky in such an open area is really humbling. To truly imagine each one of those tiny lights as big as an entire planet suddenly made me feel very small.

In a sense, this falling of stars put me back in my place. I often have an I-can-do-it-myself-attitude, but seeing this hugeness...well, I certainly can't do it myself. This comprises feelings that are quite the opposite of arrogance as well, such as worry and doubt. "Well God, how am I supposed to know what Your will is for me if I can't even figure out what I like and want?" The logic of this escapes me but I pray that so often. How about I just give it all to the Lord and let Him worry about it?

Anyways, so we got back at like three in the morning and everyone was dead tired. However, since I didn't have class today, I got to sleep in until about eleven, so I woke up completely rested and feeling very much alive. My devo was on prayer and the perseverance within that, and I couldn't help but think of Obed's Warriors and the 4am jaunts. I was meeting a couple friends for lunch, so I grabbed my iced coffee from the fridge and caught the shuttle. It was mild and clear out and the sky was extra blue I think...yes, today is good.

her morning elegance

this stop motion is lovely. [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY&w=360&h=270]

lunch ladies

When it comes to lunch ladies, i have many thoughts. Growing up, my concept of lunch ladies was that they were fully of the controlling and commandeering nature. Whistles were constantly being blown, "Heads down!" was persistently shouted, and the lights were flashed repeatedly to get our attention. We were not allowed to share food or sit by the boys and someone had to...absolutely had to wash the table at the end of the meal or there would be a price to pay. Recess was always on the line within threats and I will never forget the shrillness or the octave that was reached when we heard, "Be quiet NOW OR I WILL START HANDING OUT DETENTIONS!"

Now this may sound a bit dramatic, but I assure you, this is how the whole system went down. At the delicate age of seven, this really could be quite traumatic. However, I don't fully hold this monstrosity against these dear ladies. Given that they were handling over two hundred small children who were stuffing their faces with sloppy joes and peanut butter,while congruently throwing mac and cheese across the room, the fact that they yelled now and then seems to be a legit allowance and a sanctioned reason for their inhospitable nature.

This entire monologue is, however, inspired today as a result of my own clumsiness. I was sliding my tray under the drink machine at lunch, fully intending to quickly fill two glasses with water and one with chocolate milk, when my tray stuck on a wet patch and the entirety of the platter dumped itself onto the floor. Potato soup landed on my jeans and my shoe, and my tatertots - cordially referred to as potato gems by Cafe Naz (and they truly are) - scattered everywhere.

I was embarrassed for about three seconds, when suddenly, who else, but two lunch ladies appeared. (Yes we have them at college too...although here they are breakfast and dinner ladies as well.) They went to quick work mopping up the mess and replacing the tray, and I was ready to go in about a minute flat. They were kind and helpful and assured me that, "this situation happens on a daily basis, so please don't worry dear." I walked out of the cafe with an air of confidence, gripping my clean tray and hardly aware of the wiped-up soup blotch on my pant leg.

Needless to say, my entire outlook on lunch ladies has changed for the better. I no longer think of them with distaste or consider their job to be easy in any way. Truly, they belong right up there with Spiderman and Wolverine.

this thing will last forever

I got a new toothbrush holder today. And I am happy about it. That sounds a bit trifling, but let me explain. Our old toothbrush holder is made of plastic and metal, and after a year and a half of love, it began to show signs of rust and extreme wear. Now, the thing is just downright gross and totally unacceptable for holding anything that goes in our mouths. The new toothbrush holder, however, is made of chrome and probably will still be around in 2098.

I got to visit Amy today and since we will have an apt. together in approximately 1.5 years, I consider this toothbrush holder to be hers as well. And so we celebrated our new item with Ritz crackers, Milano cookies, and the P&P soundtrack. I have to admit, the conversation over the tb holder may or may not have morphed into further thoughts and plannings for our apartment...

Ready to brush, - Lo

midwesterness

The air was a perfect mixture today. This is why I love living in Minnesota...I love that we have cold weather 75% of the year and the rest is an exemplary mix of mild summer and rain. There's no shuttle to Maranatha at night, so this evening, I buckled my peacoat and prepared myself for a blast of quite colder than usual wind. I was pleasantly surprised when I pushed open the 200 lb. door and it was perfectly comfortable out. It was like that feeling when you got when you were eleven years old and floating three feet underwater. Liz and I used to have breath holding contests in the pool and after thirty seconds of being suspended motionless under the water, we'd move our hands slightly and the water would feel like satin around our fingers. Anyways, so the air felt like that I think.

I am perfectly content tonight. I had a couple hours to myself after class in which I finally got to clean. When in the mood, I am a cleaning fiend...this usually occurs when I am slightly stressed out or have a lot on my mind. Somehow putting everything back in its place physically helps mentally. At least I think that's how it works. Anyways, so I cleaned to the brilliant sounds of Dustin O'Halloran and drank tea and then went to get ready for the second performance. What an evening.

eminent afflictions

I have to share this excerpt with you. I seriously think God laughs at me sometimes...like I'm just praying, "God, why this...and why that...?" and then after further exemplifications of questioning from my end, He just takes me by the shoulder and whisks His hand outward, showing me the magnificence that I had been so clearly missing. If you are one who gets stuck in the plodding of life and the monotony of the everyday..please continue reading.

This is from my beloved, little, 1925 copyrighted version of Streams in the Desert. It's corners are worn, the dark orange cover is fading, and the binding has officially cracked, but it continues to pour forth unbelievable wisdom everytime I pick it up...

"As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." (Rev. 3:19) God takes the most eminent and choicest of His servants for the choicest and most eminent afflictions. They who have received most grace from God are able to bear most afflictions from God. Affliction does not hit the saint by chance, but by direction. God does not draw His bow at a venture. Every one of His arrows goes upon a special errand and touches no breast but his against whom it is sent. It is not only the grace, but the glory of a believer when we can stand and take affliction quietly. - Joseph Caryl. If all my days were sunny, could I say, "In His fair land He wipes all tears away"?

If I were never weary, could I keep Close to my heart, "He gives His loved ones sleep"?

Were no graves mine, might I not come to deem The Life Eternal but a baseless dream?

My winter, and my tears, and weariness, Even my graves, may be His way to bless.

I call them ills; yet that can surely be Nothing but love that shows my Lord to me!

Okay, okay so the poetry is a bit cheesy...but seriously, isn't this ridiculous? I don't think affliction is necessarily focusing on the most noted of troubles but includes many things...encompassing both the dull and weary day, as well as the petty grievances of a week. Sometimes the Lord is silent...and boy do I need to learn to not complain or question in these times.

It's freeing to realize and remember that just because we don't feel God doesn't mean He is far or has chosen to stop working.

this is a tribute

This is a tribute to those who offer to give backrubs.You are truly and seriously loved. These people hold a special little place in my heart. No asking, or even begging is necessary, no backrub chain is ensued; they just simply and kindly offer to help.