up late for no apparent reason...

...again. it's not that i've become an insomniac, but i've so irreparably tweaked my sleep schedule that i'm up to 1am just about every night. i faithfully set the alarm for 8:30am each morning, but i just snooze through it and get up at 11am unless i have something important to do in the morning. 10 hours of sleep. i always thought that was the amount i needed and now i know for sure. that's a whole lotta sleep. for what? to sit on the sofa and at my computer table? totally lame. maybe i'll sleep less if i work out more. hmmm....that's another experiment....

Tears of the Saints

Check out this band Leeland. The lyrics to their song Tears of the Saints has been getting to me for the last week.

There are many prodigal sons
On our city streets they run
Searching for shelter
There are homes broken down
People's hopes have fallen to the ground
From failures

This is an emergency!

There are tears from the saints
For the lost and unsaved
We're crying for them come back home
We're crying for them come back home
And all your children will stretch out their hands
And pick up the crippled man
Father, we will lead them home
Father, we will lead them home

There are schools full of hatred
Even churches have forsaken
Love and mercy
May we see this generation
In it's state of desperation
For Your glory

This is an emergency!

Sinner, reach out your hands!
Children in Christ you stand!
Sinner, reach out your hands!
Children in Christ you stand!

And all Your children will stretch out their hands
And pick up the crippled man
Father, we will lead them home
Father, we will lead them home

Raison D'Etre, Confirmation, and The Monastery

Since my career shift I've struggled more with my tendencies to be a doer and dismiss resting in God's presence. I just plain struggle with silence, rest, and waiting for the moving of the Holy Spirit. I'm nearly being forced to do just that. I can watch only so much TV and sleep late so many days before my appetite for those things ebbs. I have come to the end of myself making ministry here happen. I've come to the end of my plans for the vision God has for my life.

A couple weeks ago a friend prayed over me. Last weekend I retreated to nature. This week I had opportunities to share the love of God with people both with words and actions. If I didn't have this time on my hands, I don't think those opportunities would have arisen. They did not come from me, nor did the words. Sitting at the Justin McRoberts concert the other night, I had the profound recognition that this season is the Spirit being poured out over me. This is my time to soak in His Presence.

I went to church tonight and spent a great evening with Rob, Carissa, & Michelle. It flowed naturally and wasn't forced into a certain mold. A beautiful thing. I drove Michelle home and on the way she said how thankful she was for me being a part of our church. I wasn't expecting that at all and feel unworthy of it. It seems that I really am worshipping in the right place.

The capper of the evening was seeing the premiere of a new TLC series call the Monastery. It follows several men who join a cloister in the New Mexico desert for 40 days and nights. They are not just visitors here--they complete the same routine as the monks living in the monastery. The men run the gamut of spiritual and personal backgrounds. The common element between them in the episode was the struggle to practice silence as the monks do. Over and over the monks encouraged them in this practice, assuring them that it is necessary to hear God. I agree with them...I want to see more of this show.

Blog #100 OR Clear Dark Night

I spent my evening as a babysitter last night for the first time since our church hosted the 40 Days of Purpose small groups. I watched 7 kids myself then--2 of whom were huge handfuls on their own. I was so happy when those 2 hours were over each week. No wonder why I quit babysitting...

So I kept the 4 boys my dear friend Angela nannies (can this be a verb?) the rest of the week. Their parents jaunted off to Paris for a long weekend and Angela had sitters covering a lot of the time that she doesn't usually work. I knew she had a big catering event for the Boston Faith and Justice Network, and needing a few bucks of my own, I offered my services. First of all, their schedules are maddening: play dates here, cross country there, soccer practice even though it's raining, baseball pizza parties...and this was only one night! (At least the baby was uncomplicated--he doesn't really talk and I was generally able to determine what he wanted. He responded when I said no and laughed when we were playing. Good times.) The boys are all between the ages of 12 and 1. There were 2 physical altercations during our time together, which doesn't surprise me since I've been around them enough, plus they are boys. They sorted those things out pretty well on their own. The last 3 hours together were actually nice and violence-free. We chatted politely over dinner, played some computer games, and read books. I enjoyed putting the 2 youngest ones to bed (although I do believe the 6 year old [Andrew] could talk the bark off a tree--I should get him in a room with one of my clients and see who would talk more). After I tucked him in, Andrew told me that I earned a reward. Being the behavior analyst that I am, I really wanted to know more about that reward. I earned a sticker for "being so nice." That was pretty cool.

Ang came home around 10. We chatted and watched some TV while eating leftover apple crisp. About midnight I walked out into the chilly autumn night to embark on my 30 minute ride home. The air felt really cold last night, reminding me that it's fall for real. As I rolled out onto the wide, nearly empty expanse of expressway, I saw a glittering black sky. Orion hung where I always used to see him when I didn't live in a region full of light polution. It was so clear and cold that those stars pressed in through the light. I breathed in the chill and rising heat of the radiator, remembering times laying on blankets in my childhood backyard, looking up at Orion, wondering about life. That hunter was there then and he's here now. He will probably still be there when I breathe my last. Comforting consistency in a world that moves so fast it trips on its own feet.

Grace Must Wound Before It Heals

The title of my blog is the same as Justin McRoberts' latest album. I want to chew on that phrase for a while. It comes from a quote by the author Flannery O'Connor, whom I want to add to my growing reading list....

Tonight I had the opportunity to attend my first house show. I felt like I had happened on some buried treasure upon discovering Justin McRoberts was coming to Marblehead. Totally random finding it, but that's how my life is right now. So I knew it was perfect.

A music-loving friend from my church couldn't make it, so I wavered between not going and begging Rosana to come. Rosana caved. Added to our happy band was her buddy Rebecca who lives in Marblehead. We were headed to a personal concert, conversation, and food. A killer combination.

I don't know if I can do the night justice. First of all, Marblehead is iconic New England. When you think of this area, this is what comes to mind. The architecture is truly amazing. Rosana and I enjoyed our drive in, continually remarking how we need to come back in the daytime to browse all the shops (and for me to take about 1000 pictures). We collected Rebecca and walked to the show from her house. Creeping along the quiet, seaside street, we glimpsed a lone sign pointing the way. We had arrived. The home was part of a duplex right on the water; a perfect combination of old New England, Martha Stewart, and Pottery Barn. (Rosana even remarked that she could see me living there...that was an incredible compliment.)

We were greeted immediately by the host, who ushered us in and introduced us to the few others who had already arrived. Hot mulled cider and fresh corn chowder awaited us in the perfect kitchen. We quickly met a few people and enjoyed chatting for a while. I spent most of my time talking with a Gordon College student named Maggie who came to the show on her own. I gave her props for that. My other buddy was Robin, a transplanted midwesterner from Minnesota who was recently married. The connection with both these women was immediate and we exchanged email addresses. I am looking forward to getting to know them better.

For those who don't know Justin's music, he's not blatantly "Christian" in his style or message. He is active in a myriad of social causes including the One Campaign and Compassion International. He isn't signed to a label so he can say and do what he wants. I have to admit that I admire that individualism. He does it in the right way--he's not an individualist just to be one, it has a purpose.

I got to know a lot more about him tonight through his stories. He's wickedly funny with a dry wit--totally my style. He has a passion for Christ that breaks the American Christian mold. He loves people. He can preach. He can rescue me from the bathroom when the door gets stuck (ask me about that one later).

Sitting there in that gorgeous old leather club chair, I let the music roll over me, hearing the crash of the waves behind me. Tonight was one of those much-cherished moments that God provides so graciously. I'm just happy to be here.

Crunchy Granola

Well, I stayed up in NH at the condo until yesterday afternoon. It was pretty great to be where it's so quiet--you feel like you can actually breathe a little bit. I love the city, but it's nice to be able to drive a couple hours to the middle of nowhere (read: no Sprint service; ok, so that doesn't have to be the middle of nowhere). I'm not your regular crunchy granola girl and I don't enjoy camping out under the stars, but I have to say I've experienced God in the most profound ways through nature. It's just so much bigger than we are and we didn't do a thing to create it.

One of my favorite memories of the outdoors happened when I was in college. A friend dragged me out in the freezing cold one late November night to the middle of nowhere (this took about 10 minutes' drive from my campus). He somehow coaxed me onto this abandoned railroad bridge over a gorge. I'm just glad I couldn't fathom how high up we were when he told me because I couldn't see it. (You better believe I would have NEVER walked out there in the daytime.) It was a sacrifice I had to make for the view of the Leonid meteor shower. It was a really an amazing viewing year for that. I think we were out there for at least a couple hours, just watching and talking in the weighty quiet of the Pennsylvania forest.

Moments like that don't happen every time I'm in the midst of trees, but I'm happy to have them to remember and to have the hope of more in the future.

Being outdoors is like yoga for me. Just you, quiet, and your breath. Everything else that doesn't matter just falls away. So I have to ask myself, why don't I get in nature or do yoga more??

New Hampshire

I've been in New Hampshire since yesterday afternoon and it's been interesting. Angela and her friend Jackie were here with me until about 4pm today. We wandered all over the area, taking scenic routes (which made me surprisingly carsick) up to the White Mountains. We checked out the remaining foliage, some amazing natural rock formations and historic covered bridges. I took a ton of pics, the best of which are posted here.

Sitting in this condo on Newfound Lake is balm to my soul. Being here makes me calm. I could be hanging out alone at my apartment just as well as I am here. But there's just something about getting away from your typical setting. I'm having the same old struggles with TV, internet, and phone as distractions, but I'm separating from that for the rest of tonight and tomorrow. I need to meditate on the Word, His creation, some things a friend said the other night, and just listen to God. I don't need to leave here until about 1pm tomorrow and I'm going to cherish this time. This is my fall retreat.

jesus camp

as a result of my newfound spontaneity, i spent the afternoon in the city, meeting with the women of the ccpc and then to an unplanned dinner-and-a-movie with an equally unplanned little group. having read about a new documentary entitled 'jesus camp,' i wanted to go. i knew it was going to be one of those naked depictions of a form of christianity that doesn't meld with what i know about the gospel, but i needed to go. i needed to sit in that theatre in the middle of cambridge and be uncomfortable. i needed to hear the reactions of the people in there. i needed to look at this representation of christianity from the outside.

what i learned was that you can edit anyone's comments to make them say anything, but you can't deny a lot of what was in the film. at points i was ashamed to also be called a christian. at points i felt mocked. at points i cheered in agreement with the film's commentary. it was a really important that i saw the film--it's always good to get pushed out of the cocoon and hear what our jargon sounds like to the world. i left the theatre wide-awake aware of the need to live out micah 6:8 and to cling closely to Christ and the way He related to the world.

my existential crisis

i'm giving myself a lot of credit for calling my desert place an existential crisis, but it feels that way for now. in a few months (or years) when i'm well on the other side of the valley and can clearly see how God used this time, maybe i'll refer to it as something else. for now, it's still an existential crisis. it's hard for it not to be when one is buried under grieving over so much loss of various kinds. it's been a struggle to find my place and a vision. i've found it increasingly difficult to dream. that's not something that works out well when you are in boston to sew ministry with college students. i've been wrestling with God for the better part of the last month or so. it was happening before then too, but it's more obvious now.

i've been reading a lot, listening to sermons, getting back into the fabric of worship music i love, trying to pray, staying connected to the community that i have here. it's been a rough work this wrestling. i want so much to hear God's voice again.

tonight i pulled out louie giglio's sermon series lost in translation. the talk entitled 'left turns, detours, and the sovereign will of God' has always been one to speak to my heart. in it, louie leads us through the story of joseph from genesis and his personal story about how God led he and his wife from texas to atlanta. louie thought he was going to atlanta to help his mother care for his dying father, but his father passed on after the moving plans were made, but before they arrived. needless to say, louie and joseph can relate. despite that i've heard this talk at least 5 times, i knew i needed to hear it again: God's story is larger and different than what i perceive as my story right now; the right answer at any time is to do the right thing. what louie said at the very end of the talk is sticking with me. it's not profound, but something i need to hear every moment right now:
"I don’t have a roadmap to get you out of your hole. I don’t ever know how to get out of the holes I’m in. I just know that if I wait long enough, God reveals something and I go, 'I wouldn’t have chosen that, but thanks for letting me a part of the story.' He’s accomplishing something good when even to me it was meant to be evil. That’s a great and a sovereign God."

it's taking everything in me to praise Him as that great and sovereign God.

eharmony

as many of you know, i've delved into the world of internet dating via eharmony. i've been a member since january '06 and had one date. it was a bomb. when my 6 month membership lapsed i decided not to renew. then i was convinced to extend 3 more months by a good deal they offered. so i continued. as of a few weeks ago i lost any enthusiasm for internet dating. i gave up on eharmony. but then i got a fantastic match a few days ago. this guy had all the credentials and wrote a witty profile. i was waiting to get a communication back and i decided to check my profile tonight. he closed the match, citing the reason "other." i am SO done with this. is being in a relationship worth this work and aggravation?

october

i can't believe it's october already. i've been wearing a coat most of the weekend. fall is here. i've been living in this apartment for over a year now. wow. time flies. a friend turned 30 yesterday. i turn 30 in less than 3 months. crap. where has my life gone? have i done as much as i should have by now? have i loved people as much as i should have? have i loved God as much as He wants me to? are these really the questions that have been furtively haunting my brain for the past few months? i still can't shake them off.

Micah 6:8 (The Message)
But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do,
what God is looking for in men and women.
It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,
be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don't take yourself too seriously—
take God seriously.

the science of sleep

i saw "the science of sleep" today. being one of those lucky people that lives in a 'top 15 market,' i relished my weird day off limited release matinee with 10 other just as lucky people. this showing was my first foray into the arty, harvard square cinema 5. (other films playing in this theater included "confetti," "the illusionist," "the black dahlia," and "hollywoodland." the good bit is that their matinee is $7.25...ok, that's not that good, but it's on the cheaper end of things in boston.) the film was in a large theater that swallowed up our lucky souls. i loved the fact that the theater is old, complete with MCMXXV emblazoned below the clocks mirroring each side of the screen. very cool, but on to the film...

if i tried to explain the plot, i wouldn't do it justice. one has to view 'the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" to understand director michel gondry's style and vision. it is not a linear plot, but that's ok. my life has been anything but linear lately, and i felt at home in the film. the jokes are generally clever plays on words in 3 languages (the film is primarily in english, with a large portion of french, and a bit of spanish thrown in. pay attention to the subtitles--you will laugh heartily if you've ever been a part of the comedy involved in a multiligual conversation). if you want to see this film, be willing to go for a ride. there isn't an overarching message or political statement, but rather creativity on display. if i had to glean a meaning from the film, it is that we often don't need the things we seemingly want, and to the greatest value is found in relationships with people who understand us. gondry didn't force those messages at all, and viewers have the freedom to draw their own conclusions.

it was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, especially since i was able to sit in the waning sunlight, just feet away from the harvard square chess master. tuesdays off aren't that weird after all.

Despite my best efforts, I am experiencing my life as bland right now. Nothing stays too exciting for long, in spite of being a part of some cool things lately. I'm learning the life of a believer who is not affected by emotionalism. I've never been here before. I don't know what to make of it and I'm not sure if I should fight it. Why is it so hard to feel?

Random Day

I was off yesterday and ended up doing random things that one can only do when living near Boston. I met up with a friend and enjoyed browsing a great open-air farmer's market in Copley Square, then we lingered over delicious tea and yummie snacks at Tealuxe on Newbury St. It was an amazingly sunny and perfect autumn day, so I walked through the Public Garden, people-watching and remembering how beautiful fall in New England can be.

After that, I caught up with Angela (who tried to scare the ever-living crap out of me on Tremont Ave--it didn't work) and we took the T up to Davis Square. After meeting up with 2 other people, we wandered to nearly every restaurant in the Square (there are lots), trying to decide on something to eat. I think we chose one of the worst...I had the most heinous fettucine alfredo there. But at least it was pretty cheap!

After dinner, we walked the Square again and came across a hilarious hot dog eating contest at Spike's. This guy needed to eat 9 dogs to get on the 'wall of fame.' When we came upon the scene, he had consumed 8 and had 10 minutes left to complete the task. I was engrossed, staring through the window at the man, his stack of hot dogs, and the huge group of friends he brought to cheer him on. Our little band of girls was outside, chatting with some of his buddies, and cheering randomly when we were called upon. The guy made the worst facial expressions, reminding me of contestants on Fear Factor who ate disgusting items for relatively little money. He was ready to puke at any moment. And I was glued. The entire situation was better than any reality TV show since we were active participants in it. He was half-way through his 9th dog when time ran out. Dang. No puking, no wall of fame. I'm glad I wasn't there the whole 90 minutes...

Then we proceded to have an OK time chatting with a person I don't enjoy very much. Ang and I left around 10 to grab the T back to my place...where she fell asleep watching Annapolis. I, of course, was awake the whole time. My night owl tendencies are in high gear. :)

bipolar disorder? or is it a spiritual thing?

i ran smack into the downside of my new job--i can no longer mask a poor spiritual walk with excessive busyness. i'm not busy anymore. *boom* the bomb of my crappy walk with God dropped about thursday afternoon. all those ugly 'little' sins that i'm so prone to just oozed out of my pores. i had (and have had for at least a couple months) no taste for prayer. i slept ALL the time. i was completely sick of myself by saturday and by sunday night i needed to do something. i was rotting inside but too numb to be affected by anything. that feeling was so familiar and i didn't want it to stay.

so i called jess. truly, she means more to me than my family. she's been right there being used by God through the majority of my spiritual growth in the last several years. i needed to fess up and get beaten up. we talked for a while about a lot of things but got down to the core issues pretty quickly. i am sorely lacking in community. i am ashamed of my loss of passion for Christ. i just want to hear Him again.

writing that out makes me think there somehow are easy solutions: get community, get passionate, & pray. but those aren't so easy to come by.

this morning i listened to tim hughes music. nothing. later i was driving to meet with my boss and i listened to the first sermon from the alabanza summer retreat. nothing. after the meeting i listened to part of the second sermon. a little something. i walked into my first ccpc meeting. a little something more. i was asked point-blank in front of everyone how i was doing. deluge. flood. waterfall.

i lost it in front of the people who are really my community now. i hadn't forgotten about them, but i needed to be reminded of them. they listened through my blubbering, incoherent thoughts. i was naked. i was loved. and i can hear again.

so my life is going to stay on the quieter side of things. i'm going to 'fast' from things that tend to get in the way of my walk: too much entertainment of the secular variety, alcohol, excessive sleep. i'm reading the Word a lot more than just a chapter when i wake up. prayer is brief but frequent. these things are not going to be my salvation from this pit--God is.

tonight i've done some things for work, talked to a friend on the phone, ate some fantastic pf chang's leftovers with chopsticks and listened to A Collision a few times through. simplicity is good.

My New Life

I never imagined that opting out of the 8-4 existence would mean this much freedom. I feel like I'm awash with time, overwhelmed with many possibilities. I'm not not working, but it somewhat feels like that. I've already been able to go to an unplanned Flaming Lips show last night (for FREE!), which I might have turned down had I been working today. And today is for laundry, errands, and time with a friend. It's like living a chocolate existence. Why didn't I figure this out before? I know that this fairy tale will most likely have its downside at some point, but from where I sit right now, it's beautiful. I can't wait to enjoy all the things one can do when a job isn't the primary focus. Praise God.

David Crowder's Tidbit (or 850 Words) of the Day

A Costly Faith: Lessons from a Pawnshop Van
by David Crowder

I grew up in east Texas—Texarkana, Texas, to be precise. The town's name nods to its fantastic geographic mergers, as half the town sits in the great state of my birth, while the other half hangs over into Arkansas. I guess the idea of a dualistic geographic state seems fantastic enough to warrant this pictorial monument, as I have in fact personally observed a number of pictures taken in front of the sign. And I'd add that those participating seemed genuinely excited. But I've stood there myself, and I couldn't feel a thing.

If I were to sum up my experience growing up there for those who are unfamiliar to its culture and its people, I would tell them about Gary Mills. Gary worked for my dad. Sort of. That is, when he wasn't in jail.
Gary owned a van he bought at a pawnshop. Only in the piney woods of eastern Texas and portions of rural West Virginia can vehicles be acquired from pawnshops, for like $2. It seems vans acquired from pawnshops can be surprisingly prone to failures of varying types. One day Gary's accelerator cable broke. Gary, being almost genius, rigged up a cheap solution. The large intrusion of plastic in a van, bulging out into the forward-inhabited space between the driver's right knee and the passenger's left knee, is often crowned with faux-wooden beverage holders and covers what mechanics like to call "the engine." Being almost genius, Gary drilled a hole through the plastic cover. He then ran a rope through the newly drilled hole and attached the rope to the engine's accelerator arm. Thus, the rope then became the accelerator pedal! Now to move the vehicle in a forward direction, Gary needed only to reach over to his right and pull on the rope hanging from the freshly drilled hole in the plastic engine cover. Astounding! Almost genius! But his mastermind genius did not end there! No! He then took a saw and cut a slit down from the freshly drilled hole, effectively forming the shape of an antique keyhole. He then tied knots in the rope at different speed increments. Cruise control! Almost genius I say!

This strikes me as too closely metaphorical of my faith—being born in the American South, Christianity costs me nothing. It often feels to me cheap and rigged. Like things keep breaking along the way, and now I'm pulling on this ridiculously intricate array of ropes spreading to so many levers and pulleys, and my hand is getting rope burn from all this tugging, and the knots are starting to fray, and I think duct tape is involved. Not to say I haven't occasionally made attempts toward a costly faith. Once, I gave up R-rated movies (being more concerned with a movie's rating than the real-life societal issues the film may have been a reflection of). Or perhaps we relinquish the use of certain words, or cease the consumption of certain beverages or the inhalation of certain burned materials. And we applaud ourselves while bemoaning the costliness of the Gospel. And the irony is that all these efforts often serve to only cheapen our faith. They become but more ropes through more holes, and I have but only so many hands.

Lately I've been thinking about the soul. And death. Our mortal state, situated here as humans. It seems like we don't do that much anymore—think about death and the nature of the soul and the body. And maybe this is understandable, seeing as it used to be our primary point of conversation when discussing our faith with others—the turn-or-burn evangelism of our not-too-distant past. The logic was that if the present were just transitory, if we're just passing through, then it followed that there was no need to feel any affinity toward this place or spend much time trying to tidy up, which is almost brilliant. But we've now moved on, I think. The present has taken center stage. But my fear is that in hopes of becoming more palatable and less divisive, we forget the eternal unfolding in our words and deeds.

I think we live in a space divided. I think Jesus insisted that the kingdom of heaven was not just a space we would later inhabit, but also one that He was bringing here and now. We exist with one foot here in the earthly and one in the eternal. Yet we rarely feel it. We rarely live with a sense that someone should take a picture. That what is happening right now bears documentation. That we're in two places at once.

I want to live a faith that is a reflection of the cost of its eternal origin, not merely a reflection of my transient one. I want to feel the reality of where we sit. That the things we decide here are eternal ones. That our conversations mean something. I want to live in a manner that feels heroic, that turns the invisible into the visible, that is a solid intrusion of the eternal into the divided streets of humanity.

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil

I love the feedback log feature on Xanga. I am addicted. I don't know if it's curiosity or vanity that compels me to determine who is reading my rarely sage words, but I check the listing daily. Seriously...I told you I was an addict. The problem comes when I find something out in the log--either the fact that someone I'd rather not read the blog is reading it, or that people I really want to check it out aren't. It must be in some fashion like when Adam and Eve ate of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The drive to know is often overwhelming, but sometimes the knowing itself brings you more unanswered questions.

Back in the Land of Warm Weather and Afternoon Thunderstorms...

So I'm in the good ol FL for a few days, seeing my parents and assorted friends. I probably won't go to the beach at all unless someone drags me down there some night. It's pretty, but you just BAKE out there in the summer. I kind of love it at night, all mysterious and dark. It becomes dangerous to walk in up to your ankles. You never know what kind of creature will come up and get you (AKA croc hunter).

All that aside, I'm glad to be here and just relax. I've got some long stretches of time planned with people I love. It's time to be me and let go in a place that knows who I am. Boston knows who I am and wants to change me. Pittsburgh knows who I was in college. Florida, for me, is like a city of refuge from the Bible, although I have to be honest and say that I'm not the same person I was when I left here a year ago.

Coming back always brings knowledge and growing through God. He uses people here in FL in strategic ways to strengthen my faith. I know this trip isn't any different. I need to be challenged in my walk. It's been far too easy to get soft in my daily disciplines in a place where none of it is valued. I battle every moment to see truth and deny lies in Boston. Being missional is very, very hard work. It requires the discipline of Christ and I know I don't have that. The way of the truth truly is a very narrow, rocky, dangerous path. That is not the way of those in Boston--they want easy, well-tred, beautiful, and entertaining paths. Christ is not that path. At least I have eyes open enough to see the obviousness of the lie because it's not couched in religiousity. At least many people in Boston clearly reject the truth and make it known where they stand. At least we have a starting point. It's much harder to minister to someone who already believes the 'easy' percentage of what you have to say.

So I'm here, ready to soak up the truth that God has laid for me. May I be humble enough to hear it all.

The 'Burgh

Side note before I get to the blog...I had completely forgotten that I blogged this AM before work. Long day...

I am now sitting in my brother's 3rd bedroom-turned-office in a suburb of good ol' Pittsburgh. His GIGANTIC black cat (properly named Monster) is laying on the desk next to me. This is the first time I've met the infamous cat. At any rate, my flight was about 30 minutes delayed out of Boston, but I was fine with that. I navigated the 'no liquids' mess just fine. There was a marked decrease in the carried-on baggage since when I last flew in July. And I just need to add that JetBlue rocks. This airline definitely needs to fly into Pensacola or Ft Walton...great service, great seats, DirecTV...

The last day at work was quite odd as last days go. I worked. I summed some data, helped out in a few crises. The only thing that would have made it more normal would've been a meeting. We had a cake party in one of the classrooms--it was really sweet. I cried a little bit, but I know I'm going to be able to see who I want to see. I'm not moving anywhere this time. I'm looking forward to expanding relationships with people that were limited by the bounds of 'professionalism.' I'm praying that God will blow those doors wide open with opportunity.

So, I'm ready to rest and see what God brings on. It's been an intense summer--a crucible perhaps. I wonder what's going to come of this next week?