Chronicles of Growing Courage

Back to the Future Meets Twilight Zone.

2011-01-19T20:22:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes I can't understand what's the good of keeping a diary. I never say anything worth reading. When I am an old lady, it certainly won't make interesting reading to glance through this."

My grandmother, who wrote that at age 20, could not have been more wrong on all counts. Sadly, she did not live until she was an old lady, dying unexpectedly at age 54. And the reading is quite interesting to a granddaughter who has always been curious about this woman who longed to visit Africa so much that she kept a pet monkey and alligator in the bathroom.

I must say, however, it gives one a queer feeling to be reading the longings and frustrations of one's girlish grandmother. The diary spans two years, and it is right at the time when my grandfather was actively courting her.

"Oh, I long for him, " she writes. "Does he love me?" Any girl can relate to her back-and-forth inner turmoil of endless analysis and second-guessing mixed with wild hopes and passionate outcries. When he travels to Hong Kong as a merchant marine, she counts the long months down. "Its been four weeks since I've seen him." Fact is, if he hadn't loved her and married her, I wouldn't be reading this!

This was also the time when my grandmother was in a tremendous amount of mouth pain, and was slowly having her teeth pulled. Halfway through the first year, she decides to have all of her teeth pulled, which results in a very painful two weeks and numerous frustrations at adjusting to dentures. Those dentures just kept popping out at the worst times!

Alpine Grief

2010-11-18T08:52:00.000-08:00

I wade into grief slowly
as if it were an alpine lake
each step with breathless gasping
its frigid bite meeting warm skin.
So I wait
until each body part
grows numb
the thousand poking needles
blunted
as if a thin paper
suddenly shields my skin.
Finally, I am immersed
and I carefully tilt back my head
to press my nose
into the air
as the water covers my face.
I wait
feeling the throbbing cold
complete its path
through my skin, muscles, nerves, and bones
until it hits my core
until I am fully conscious
of my submersion.
And then, only then
do I slowly turn around
layer by layer
my body emerges
dripping, sodden
trembling
until I stand on dry ground
once more.
But even then
the memory of the dark waters
remains in the faint, shimmering droplets
perched on my skin
sending goose-bumped shivers
across my body.

The Dance

2010-11-14T11:05:00.000-08:00

I shyly turn towards God
eyes lowered
bashfully aware
of my pock-marked soul
my greedy agenda
my sucking thirst for affirmation.

And yet
like a whisper of grasses
lisping across your skin
as you stride through the meadow's faint path
I feel the first fruits
of a healing touch
so potent and powerful
that I dance around its spotlight
putting one toe in
feeling a shiver of delight
before quickly drawing it out.

My courage grows
I put two arms in
but the shocking reality
of a love unconditional
is too much
I quickly draw them out.
My self protective fierceness
like China’s great wall
slowly crumbling
not against my will
but still slowly
as my reticent modesty
fears too much
too soon.

But
naked one day
I will stand
without shame
fully embracing
the wondrous delight
of being loved.

Tribute to my friend Praise

2010-10-26T10:09:00.000-07:00

You stood
on the edge of the cliff
looking at the other side
toes hanging over the lip
hair blowing in the wind
your infectious laugh
echoing against the beauty surrounding you.
You so intently
embraced
the complexity
and simplicity
of life
you did not have time
to worry about the chasm.

But this is you:
If you loved,
you did so wholeheartedly
If you cried,
you poured your heart out
If you laughed,
you awoke a sleepy room
If you listened,
you did it intently
If you sang,
you shared your soul
If you spoke,
with honesty and vulnerability.

We weep for what could have been
but we celebrate what was
A life that did not hold back
waiting for the right time to begin.
You lived openly, passionately
as if each day was your last
inviting others
without discrimination
into the warm circle
of your friendship.

Last week
you did not know
how quickly your death approached.
But someone who lives the way you did
need not change too many things
had you but known.

But
we all stand with you
on the edge of the cliff.
We forget
how narrow the chasm
between this side and the next.
Some of us are too distracted
with worries and anxieties
overcome with regret and sorrow
preparing to begin living
distracted with empty pleasures and entertainment
fearful of the other side
forgetting our purpose.
We do not embrace life
so wholeheartedly
as you did.

We strain to see you
on the other side
Our human frailty
obscures our vision.
But if we close our eyes
and use our faith
we can see you
clearly
walking with Jesus
in the open, flowered field
your beautiful dress
blowing in the wind
"Look!" you say, pointing.
"I see the ocean!
Jesus, did you know that is my favorite place?"
You throw your head back
and laugh
for the sheer joy of it
for the beauty untainted
by human sorrow and pain.

You are doing well, Praise.
But we are not.
You have left an impossible hole
we cannot fill.
We stand at the chasm
our eyes closed
so that we can see you
But one day we will open them again.
And on that day,
may we treasure life
a little dearer
may we give to others
more freely
may we forgive easier
love deeply
celebrate the moment-by-moment
pain and sweetness of life
so that we honor your life
so that your special spirit
remains with us always
until the day
when we, too,
step across the chasm.

Farewell, Tuchekoi and Southeast Queensland

2010-08-09T16:05:00.000-07:00

What a fantastic trip! Some of the kids were crying as they boarded the bus that would take them to the airport and back to Hong Kong. I, too, felt a mixture of the sweet, painful sadness that comes at the end of an experience that has been significantly valuable and memorable. Truly, Camp Tuchekoi is a unique and special place.

As a sidenote, the really good pictures were taken by my friend Allison. I must give credit where credit is due!

Biking Adventures: Part 2

2010-08-02T22:49:00.000-07:00

“It was kind of a faith journey,” the 14-year-old boy earnestly said to me. C. was describing what had happened when he had finally put his mountain-bike-learning into practice on the students’ five day wilderness expedition (See earlier post for C.’s story on learning to ride a bike the first time).

“There was a lot of rocks and I kept going off the trail as it got narrower and narrower. I was getting nervous and finally my bike went completely off the trail and I had a big crash. Everyone else had already gone down the steep hill…I was all by myself and I began to cry and felt very scared. I wanted to give up.” C.’s gentle face grew livelier as he continued his story—he was almost unrecognizable as the timid, shy boy he had been three weeks earlier at the beginning of the program.

“The whole group stopped to wait for me at the bottom of the hill and started to encourage me. K. came up and brought me lunch and prayed for me. I decided to try it again. As I began riding, I felt that God was protecting me with a shield that went around my whole body. As I felt this, my inner confidence came back once again and I was able to ride down the hill.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts into English. “Many things have changed inside of me since I have come here, “ he said. “I am not the same person.” He smiled, a warm, contented smile, full of life and light. It was the smile of a person who had confronted his inner fears and come out the other side, an inner-confidence born of struggle and hard choices. I smiled back and patted him on the shoulder. “That, “ I said firmly, “is a great story, C.”

The Cult of Bindy

2010-07-26T22:41:00.000-07:00

I went to the famous Australia zoo on my day off, home of the Crocodile Hunter. Although it was not as expansive as some of the zoos in America, it was far more interactive. It was both shocking and enjoyable to see trainers lolling about the grass with tigers, being able to wander around "Roo paradise" to feed kangaroos, and being able to pet a koala. In such situations, some people tend to get in a "limited resource frenzy" similar to the selfish panic found in a grocery store parking lot when there are too few spaces. I would spot a lone kangaroo in the bushes, but by the time I started to make my way over there, another family had literally run over to the kangaroo and started shoving feed toward its mouth. Those kangaroos seemed to be on a permanent Thanksgiving day bloat, barely having the energy to hop away when the kids grew too annoying.

Despite the novelty of being able to pet the animals, the most curious part of the day for me was the zoo's focus on Bindy, the late Crocodile Hunter's 12-year-old daughter. Bindy has taken center stage in her dad's legacy, as evidenced by her own DVD series, book series, posters and pictures everywhere, and parts of the zoo named after her (Bindy's pony rides). This particular day was her birthday, and therefore all kids could get in free. The birthday had a Hollywood theme (very ironic for me, of course); all the staff were dressed for the part, and there were various "Hollywood-like" events (such as showcasing a party stretch Hummer that everyone could peek into).

The climax of the day was a showing of her new film Free Willy 4 (Free Willy is still going strong over here...anyone in the States know they made it past 2?) followed by the grand finale of her blowing out her birthday candles in the stadium in front of hundreds of cheering kids. At this point, my friend and her daughters and I were wandering around the Birds of Prey, admiring the huge Wedge-tail eagle when the screaming began.

"Bindy's blowing out her candles...we've got to get down there!" The seven year old exclaimed excitedly, grabbing her mother's arm. "Please please please, can we go see Bindy?" The five year old pleaded.

Their mother rolled her eyes to me and let their 14-year-old sister escort them down to Bindy while we finished at the bird exhibit.

"I just can't get over this Bindy thing," I said. "How good can this be for a twelve year-old girl? And don't you Australians abide by the 'tall poppy syndrome?'"(When one person starts getting a little full of himself/herself, other Australians like to knock him/her back down to their level).

"Well," she said with a glint in her eye. "Although Steve Irwin was Australian, his wife is actually American, so we kind of expect this kind of thing."

This may be true, but I will add that the zoo was packed and there were no shortage of excited kids longing to see Bindy. I myself made it through the whole day without catching a glimpse. I guess I'm just going to have to catch her on Free Willy 4.

Close Encounters of the Scary Kind

2010-07-21T19:53:00.000-07:00

Australian wildlife is a wild and wonderful mixture of vibrant colors, audacious sounds, and venomous threats. Although these realities always seem to be in tension here, this paradox manifested itself most blatantly today.

This morning I identified a Rainbow Lorakeet pecking around the tree next to my balcony. I soaked in its bright green, red, yellow and blue colors while listening to the multiple other varieties of birds I had not yet identified.

Forty-five minutes later, I was running the trail that follows the ridge behind the camp. Although the Aussies have both openly and implicitly mocked my poisonous snake and spider paranoia (which, I might add, I feel are completely justified), I was taking my usual precaution of scanning the trail several feet ahead to look for snakes.(I won't mention how many sticks I thought were snakes, thereby doing a quick bunny-like leap over them before recognizing my mistake). Despite my caution, there was a particularly steep portion of the trail that forced me to focus just on my feet in front of me. All of a sudden, I happened upon a very LARGE black snake on the left part of the trail, while I was running on the right. My adrenalin catapulted me forward in a gold-medal worthy triple jump and a loud "Oh my gosh!" flew out of my mouth. In response to my wild, jerking motions, the snake seemed equally startled and seemed to jump back away from the trail (do snakes jump? I now believe they do). I sprinted up the remainder of the trail, all the while gasping, "Oh my lands, oh my lands!" I stopped to catch my breath at the top and reflect on the size of the snake.

"It was the as thick as my upper arm and at least as long as my body!" I later exclaimed to J., our cook. She laughed at me.

"You Americans always exaggerate such things when you come over here!" She replied.

Well, whatever. After I looked up the description of the Red-bellied Black Snake, I felt justified in my claim:

"This snake is dangerously venomous but bites are rare because it is usually a placid and fairly docile snake, preferring to enact a lengthy bluff display with flattened neck and deep hisses rather than bite. It grows to a length of 2.5 metres, and is a very distinctive snake because of its simple and unvarying coloration."

After this description, the real question is, who had the scarier encounter, the snake or myself?

The "Ah-Ha" Moment

2010-07-17T20:51:00.000-07:00

He was the timid, shy boy who had already cried four times out of an abject terror of learning to ride a mountain bike. Deep down, there seemed to be a voice that told him it would be impossible to learn how to ride a bike, although he had witnessed several other students succeed in the endeavor.

"Do you believe you can do this?" I asked him, after huffing and puffing alongside of his bike, trying to balance him.

"I am not thinking about that, I'm only concentrating on trying."

And trying he was, although each time he started out on the bike, he leaned so heavily to the right that it was all I could do to balance him.

"Pedal, pedal!" I shouted. "Sit up straight, stop leaning to the right!" He stumbled to a halt once again.

"I think you felt more balanced that time!" I encouraged him.
"Really?" he said hopefully. "Am I getting better?" I have never taught anyone to ride a bike, and I desperately tried to remember how the process worked. Surely, at some point one's muscles and brain and balance would all lock in.

But it was not to be that day. I could tell he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. "Let's call it a today and we can work again tomorrow," I suggested. "That last run was great, I just had my hand on your seat."

"So it was an improvement from this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, you've improved a lot since this morning."

The next day was the students' rest day, and one of the teachers volunteered to run a bike session so that all those who were uncomfortable or still working on their skills could have some more time to practice before actually going mountain biking. I wandered over about an hour into it to check on the students. As I watched the teacher work with the same boy, I noticed that he did seem to be gaining more balance on the bike. He saw me and waved excitedly. "You're doing great!" I shouted.

"Okay," I heard the teacher say, "why don't you ride up towards Melody?" The teacher grabbed the seat and balanced him as the boy determinedly started on the pedals. All of a sudden, I could see that the teacher was no longer holding onto the bike.

"Am I riding on my own, am I riding on my own?" the boy shouted.

"Yes, yes, you are all on your own!" the teacher yelled back. "Ride straight to Melody!"

The boy's face lit up into a gigantic smile as he wobbled and weaved all on his own toward me.

"You did it! You are a bike rider!" I said to him when he reached me. His grin was so big that he couldn't even speak. But the impact of the moment became apparent later when he said of his experience, "Today is a very special day for me."

Goannas and 4x4ing

2010-07-15T01:20:00.000-07:00

The trouble with Aussies is that they are so laid back they can put your life at risk.

I was behind the wheel of a stick shift 4 wheel drive, driving gallons of water up the hills to drop it off at the students' campsites. I haven't done much 4x4ing at all..in fact, if truth be told, I was nervous at winding my way up steep, rocky, and turbulent little paths to the summit. The Aussie next to me was as calm as still waters at dawn. "Why stress?" he asked me. "It doesn't help matters."

So I found myself stalled at one of the steepest parts because I didn't give the engine enough "revs". My foot pressed tightly against the brake, palms sweating, I listened as he gave me instructions to release my emergency brake after I released my foot break and quickly transfer my foot to the gas pedal. Kelli was giggling in the back seat as I asked, "Is it possible for this thing to roll over? Am I going to hit a tree if I start careening backwards?" Taking a deep breath, I quickly moved my foot from the brake to the gas as I released the clutch. As the truck started moving, I frantically tried to release the emergency brake.

"I can't get the brake down, I can't get the brake down!" I yelled as we started spinning out. Meanwhile, so faintly in the background that my brain didn't register it, my Aussie friend said quietly and calmly, "You are heading straight for that tree. You are heading straight for that tree.'

Somehow, I managed to avoid the tree (not because I saw it, but just happened to slightly turn)and I got the emergency brake down. As I stopped on the top of the steep hill for a breather, the three of us wheezed in laughter at the near mishap. "Can you please warn me of turns or danger in a louder voice?" I asked. Unfortunately, I don't think overreacting is in his nature...this type of episode happened about three more times along our journey.

On the bright side, we passed a five foot Goanna who climbed up in the tree to escape us. There does not seem to be any lack of adventures here in Queensland, Australia!

Morning Reflections in Australia

2010-07-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

This morning I arose early, before the kookaburras began their noisy monkey calls in the surrounding trees. I thought it would be difficult to start my shift every morning at 5:45 a.m. by waking the kids up, but I'm finding that early mornings at Camp Tuckekoi are worth the effort. As I walked to my first cabin, I noticed a mist clinging to the pond, as if shielding it from the surrounding green hills. The morning birds had begun passing over the waters, boldly announcing the faint but unmistakable presence of the dawn. There is a distinct peace at this time before the noisy Cantonese chatter begins in the cabins as I bang on their door to wake them up.

The morning faces of the students are yet another kind of enjoyment. Being from Hong Kong, this is perhaps their first morning ever spent away from a city type environment. All of the girls expressed how cold they were from the previous night, but I also noticed that their beds were not properly made up. Being from affluent families, some of these students have never done any kind of household chore or duty. I am already looking forward to seeing their confidence as they progress to learning how to do their laundry, dishes, vacuum, etc. This will be a busy month!

Following Jesus amidst the tombs

2009-06-09T17:56:00.000-07:00

This weekend I worked an adventure camp with kids who come from notoriously bad neighborhoods in L.A. I always enjoy these camps, because I essentially get paid to hang out with kids and do fun things with them. The part that is always difficult, however, is hearing their stories of the tremendous obstacles they face in life.

One obviously intelligent and creative 16 year old boy, allowing himself to dream a little, was telling me what he hoped to do when he got older. Just as quickly as his face lit up, however, did the sparkle die out as he lowered his voice to tell me that he knew this would never happened since he did not have "papers". His parents had brought him into the States when he was 3, and he knew the difficulty of receiving his documents. "I'll probably just end up doing nothing," he told me quietly.

Another girl sobbed out pent up pain with me outside in the freezing mist while the rest of the group was involved in a "conversation circle" inside. It seemed to me that her pain came just as much as from a profound sense of isolation as the hurt caused by being abandoned by her father and difficulty with her mother.

Hearing these stories reminds me that I do not enjoy feeling my own pain, not to mention other people's pain. The temptation to isolate myself from others' pain is a powerful and potent force. The day I got back from camp, however, I read the story of Jesus and the Gerasene demoniac. It struck me that Jesus seemed to have gone there for the sole purpose of meeting with this naked man who lived among the tombs. Assaulted by the demonic, this man was surrounded by the scent of death, yet Jesus walked in the midst of this. In view of my visceral reaction to pain, I have no doubt that I would have been hiding behind one of the tombs during the interaction between Jesus and the demoniac.

To follow Jesus, I have to follow him amidst the tombs. These kids are assaulted by those same forces that were in that ancient graveyard, forces that are attempting to destroy their lives, to bring them to a point of hopelessness and resignation at the prospect of things ever being different. To follow Jesus, I have to be present with them, to be able to squarely look at and try to understand their reality. This means really listening to their stories and allowing myself to be affected by their pain. Perhaps this allows me to bear a small bit of their burden, even for that moment that they are telling me their story.

Spinal Tap: Part 2 "Normal or just plain fishy?"

2009-05-09T20:13:00.000-07:00

Dr. Ray Pevey is a strange man. Sometimes he seems borderline normal, but other times it seems that he pushes some kind of button and goes into an "auto-mode" chiropractic sales pitch.

Being as I had never had any chiropractic experience before, I tried to keep an open mind throughout the experience, although some parts of it made me a little uneasy. The office was one of those "used-to-be-house" type places decorated in a hunter green with pink accents. However, there was a front waiting room and a receptionist who seemed refreshingly normal.

As I was waiting for my appointment, I picked up a big binder with raving patient testimonials...the problem was most that of them were for a "Dr. Hess". Of the 4 or 5 that were singing Dr. Pevey's praises, one had a line that made me shudder: "It took 3 electric shock treatments before Dr. Pevey could even start working on my shoulder...." Electric shock treatments?

First, I was forced to watch a propagandaish video that detailed the entire educational process for chiropractors, narrated by a polite woman's voice that frequently assured me: "Your chiropractor is well-educated". Finally, Dr. Pevey sailed in to get me started. I was a little taken aback when he instructed me to take off my clothes and put on a hospital-type gown with Velcro in the back. After he left, I stared at the gown for a couple of minutes. "I wasn't expecting this," I thought. "What are my options here?" I opened the door just slightly and peered out into the hallway where I saw another patient clad in blue gown following another doctor (probably Hess..the guy with the fan club) down the hallway. "Okay," I thought. "So it is not just me...I guess it is standard procedure. My chiropractor is well-educated."

I donned the gown and then went through a series of tests and x-rays. Nothing bad happened, but I was mortified when I also had to walk down the hall in my gown of the "used-to-be-house" to the x-ray room. "Oh, Melody," Dr. Pevey boomed in a rather loud voice. "I'm really glad you came in, I think you came in just in time before some of your issues go too far down the line."

At the end, Dr. Pevey informed me that he had to "carefully analyze all the data" to come up with conclusive, comprehensive answers and recommendations and told me to come in the next week for the results. In retrospect, it wasn't too bad....except when I told my roommate about it (who has been to many chiropractors)and she said she never had to do most of that stuff. Hmmmmmmm......

Spinal Tap

2009-05-01T19:18:00.000-07:00

We who live on the financial edge are drawn to the word "FREE" like an overheated dog to a pool of water. And so I found my legs heading over to the sign with said word at the Monrovia Street Fair.

"Mmmmm, " I thought as I saw the sign that read: Free Spinal Screening. I pictured a mealy-mouthed man with slicked-back greasy hair running his fingers down my spine. I kept walking past the booth.

"But when will I have another opportunity to get a spinal screening?" I thought. "I mean, I have been having trouble with my knee and foot." One minute later, I found myself in front of the smiley woman with the clipboard.

Initially, I was very suspicious of Dr. Ray Pevey who looked like an ex-body builder gone doctor. "A little too polished," I thought, "for someone who has biceps that big".

However, he conducted himself with utmost courtesy and validated my own suspicions: my pelvis looked to be out of alignment. He then offered me a fantastic deal...a full screening at his clinic that was regularly $195 for only $20! My suspicions were slightly alerted again when he mentioned "neurological testing" as one of the many tests they do (perhaps I am just chiropracticaly ignorant, but what do neurology tests have to do with your posture?) But somehow, before I knew it, I was signing up for the series of tests for next Friday. Although I have been known to be suckered before, Dr. Pevey does have a real business card and his smiley receptionist gave me a receipt, so it MUST be okay, right? After all, I can always flee the premises if it turns out to be a shady deal. Misaligned pelvis or not, I feel confident I can outrun Dr. Pevey with those big biceps weighing him down. What a great deal!

Tales from the Coffee Kiosk

2008-12-08T17:09:00.000-08:00

I'm not really sure why I stopped writing over this quarter. It certainly wasn't for a lack of material; oh, the stories I could tell of crazy cat women, meeting Tony Blair, learning about the daily life of the homeless, falling out of windows in an attempt to rescue a cat(no, I am not in the "crazy cat women" category!), and so much more.... I will begin, however, with a story that moved me deeply of a homeless man name John.

I now work at a coffee kiosk outside of a public library. I was previously unaware of the centrality of a public library in the lives of many people: it is used it as a home, a warm, resting place, and a community center. The first thing that I noticed about John was that his nose had a black, cancerous looking growth spreading across it. Polite and quiet, his body held the posture of weathered survival. He would pay with change for a cup of coffee once a day. Apparently, he had lived in the apartments behind the library, living off of his social security check until the always-increasing rent forced him out on the streets, where he used his social security check to try to make food last for the month.

One day, one of our "dailies", a lawyer who worked across the street, began to slip us money for John so that he could have something to eat and drink when his social security ran out for the month. I felt sick to my stomach when one afternoon John came out of the library, pondering the kiosk's food selection, and decided on a scone for dinner because he felt that it would be the most filling. The most astonishing thing, however, was John's presence when he learned of his "special funds" we kept stashed in the cash register. His body, once bent over, stood straighter, his shoulders were back, he looked me in the eye, and would strike up a conversation with me. I was astonished at this change and mused over its ramifications with my boss.

"I think he felt that someone actually cared about him, and that made the difference, " he said. My boss, who seems to be part business owner, part counselor, part social worker for all the people who come into his coffee zone, took it upon himself to locate a place where John could have a bed for awhile. It warms my heart to see John come visit now after a good night's sleep in a warm place. "I won't be coming in tomorrow morning, " he told me the other day, "I think I'm going to relax and sleep in tomorrow!" What a potent reminder of the transformative power of love in action!

Eyes of hope

2008-09-08T12:44:00.000-07:00

These two pictures show myself with two Serb teenagers who just graduated high school and one Albanian who also just graduated. Of course, they went to separate high schools, but they do know each other through the Summer English School that the missionaries here run at the community center. Through this summer program, these teenagers have broken down some walls, become friendly with each other, and will even greet each other on the street.

Roza, the Albanian, related an incident that happened a few months ago. She was walking down the street when she saw Elena, the Serbian, across the street. Roza greeted her and Elena returned the greeting. The group of Serb teenagers that were standing next to Elena said: "Don't talk to her...she's Albanian!" Elena replied: "She's my friend!" Although their friendship does not extend beyond greeting, I believe this is a significantly hopeful story.

The Serbian teenagers were extremely guarded about what they said to me regarding the situation and expressed little hope that anything would change. In fact, "uncertainty" would be a word to describe the state of the Serbians here.. . many are half-expecting to have to move to Serbia. Ironically, although Serbia is vying for Kosovo, Kosovite Serbs are not exactly welcomed to Serbia, being seen as "country cousins".

Roza, on the other hand, was full of optimism and hope about the future, wanting to build relationships and leave the past in the past even though her family had endured many hardships at the hands of the Serb soldiers. Even those that express this hope for the future, however, cannot practically relate how these relationships could be formed between the two groups.

I myself felt tremendous hope as I looked in the eyes of these young woman who were setting off to university. Despite difficult situations, there is an expectancy and enthusiasm that spills out of them, and in their eyes I saw the secret dreams and hopes that are so wonderfully bound up in youth. Hope, I believe, is a grace from God because it allows people to move through the rubble of broken lives towards the kingdom.

Albanian Hospitality: A night of tea(copious amounts) and talking

2008-09-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

Amhad and Habbibba live with their 3 children in two small rooms in the small town of Lipje, where I am staying for several nights. I accompanied a young missionary couple on their visit to this family as my first experience interacting with some Albanians. I was met with warmth and friendliness, and I was amused to see their young son greet me in a miniature U.S. army uniform. Albanian Kosovites love Americans because of the NATO bombing, seeing us as their liberators. They celebrate July 4th and jokingly state the adage: God first, America second. Kosovite Serbs, on the other hand, have exactly the opposite feelings towards Americans for exactly the opposite reasons.

With one eye on the conversation and the other eye on my Turkish-style tea glass to ensure that I was drinking at a similar pace as everyone else, I found myself drawn into Amhad’s passionate views on Kosovo. “Nobody wants to speak the truth here, “ he claims. People shut their eyes to the truth of all the corruption, the mafia, the humanitarian aid that is being exploited for the rich….people are too afraid to speak the truth because you might compromise your relationships with people. And besides, most people play along with the corruption. They may not get even half of the aid they are supposed to get, but at least they get some if they keep their mouths shut.” He proceeded to tell me about last winter, when there was no wood for the stoves at his kids' school. Since the winter before had been mild, the municipality had pocketed the money designated for school fuel. Consequently, the kids were suffering through below 0 temperatures at school. Amhad tried to rally the parents to demand fuel, but no one wanted to raise any trouble. Eventually, Amhad went down to the president of the munincipality and demanded that either he take action or Amhad would go to the media. The next day, a truckload of wood appeared at the school.

By this point in the conversation, I had already drank 5 cups of the tea, and there was no end in sight. I asked Amhad if he believed peace could exist between the Kosovite Serbs and the Kosovite Albanians, since most towns were completely segregated(even the schools) and mistrust and hatred for the other are rampant. Amhad declared that people needed to decide to see the other as a person and not disregard them for their ethnicity. He said there needed to be an increase in morality. He said that if justice came to deal with the corruption, the economic situation improved, if people had jobs, then it would be easier to live in peace once more. Amhad himself has not worked since the war: 12+ years ago. In fact, he turned down a job as a border guard because he would have had to participate in corruption. "I may not have money, " he said, "but I am clean. Someday they will have to answer for every penny they take."

After 2.5 hours of conversation and swimming in a stomach-full of tea, we took our leave amidst warm handshakes and their promises to make me Amhad's famous Swiss coffee were I to visit again before I left the country.

Albanian hospitality is equivalent to the Serbian hospitality I experienced. However, they are divided by language, religion, and a bloody past. Both sides have committed ethnic cleansings, although history is viewed through only one lens in each respective group. If the children remain segregated, learning about the other in terms of mistrust and hatred, I fear for this new country. I would guess most ordinary people, like many others I have met in the Balkans, only want to live their lives in peace, being able to provide for their families. However, it seems that the way to peace is impassable by the fierce rivers of an unresolved past.

P.S. For those concerned with my previous dire post, the next day in Belgrade was much better. That lady made some more time for me and I got to ride on a green scooter next to the river. Who can ask for more?

Wilting in Beograd

2008-09-06T01:16:00.002-07:00

Yesterday I hit a wall; in fact, if it hadn't been for the kind painter, the cafe waiter, and Ratko, I think I might have had a complete meltdown. It's been very hot here in Beograd, Serbia--close to a 100 with humidity. Yesterday I had two appointments scheduled, and the first lady was supposed to drop me off at my next appointment. We were supposed to meet each other in front of a massive hotel; so, I walked around this hotel about three times looking for her.

I was baking in the heat, drenched in sweat, and feeling extremely miserable because there was no pay phone around and I was in a completely different part of Belgrade than I was used to. I had a map, but having a map is not exactly helpful in Belgrade. Why? Because even though Serbian is almost the same as Croatian and Bosnian, they write it with the Cyrillic alphabet. In other words, when you look at the map, you might see a street that looks like this: Lbjinka. When you look up at a street sign, you might see something like this: #@%#L*$. Well, not exactly, but the characters are about as foreign as that.

I finally tried to communicate with some painters that I needed a phone. After much wild hand gesticulating, a painter took me around the hotel again and took me down to a little cafe on the river. Talking animatedly, he seemed convinced that I would begin to understand him. I tried to smile and nod a lot, hoping I was agreeing at the right places in the conversation. He took me up above the cafe to the manager's office and the manager let me use his cell phone. When I found out that the lady had left the hotel at 12:15 after waiting for 15 minutes(because it was so hot). I felt the weight of a whole lot of factors pressing down on me: I did not have much sleep the night before because certain people in my hostel were not practicing good hostel etiquette, I didn't know where I was, this was a very important appointment, I lost my hostel bed for the night and had no place to stay, I was hungry, and the intensity of the heat..all these factors contributed to my incoming meltdown. I was so discouraged that I wanted to sit down and cry. I think the painter saw the look on my face and took me back down to the cafe where he told the cafe waiter to bring me a cold sprite. They wouldn't let me pay for it, and the painter left after shaking my hand.

After riding on a random bus for an hour, I finally was able to figure out how to get back to the main part of Beograd. Dirty, sweaty, hungry, thirsty, I stumbled into my next destination: a small humanitarian organization. I think I might have had a touch of heat exhaustion, so my head was spinning as I sank into the warm hospitality that Bread of Life offered me. I met Ratko, one of the Christians who worked there, and my day got a whole lot better. I related the story of my day to him, and he began giggling so hard that I also began to laugh.

When the sun went down, he gave me a little tour of different sites. He helped me take my luggage to the new hostel, and then took me out for a drink. We walked all over the city and enjoyed the nightlife and I tumbled into bed at 2 a.m. What a day!

My pilgrimage to the pilgrims of Medjugorje

2008-09-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

I took a small side trip in Bosnia because Medjugorje has an interesting connection to not only Bosnia's war, but to Catholic pilgrims worldwide. And of course, I was just curious.

In 1981, Mary, mother of Jesus, allegedly began showing herself to six children on a hill above Medjugorje. On the third day of the apparitions, Mary gave the children a message of peace for the world: "Peace, peace, peace--and only peace! Peace must reign between God and man and between men!" Ten years later on the exact day of this message, the war broke out in Bosnia.

In the decades that followed, literally millions of people have come through to pray, talk to the visionaries, and perhaps to be a part of a supernatural experience. Now the village is overrun with people capitalizing on the history: stores and boothes abound selling statues, trinkets, and rosaries.

My particular experience took place on an extremely hot day. I trudged up to a Catholic community center where the Fransicians run AA programs. I was overrun by a large Irish group. "We've come to check out the site because someone is going to get a vision on Tuesday and we want to be here," they told me.

Later, I sat on "Apparition Hill" where Mary first appeared to the children. I was soon engulfed by a wave of Italians. They each took turns embracing Mary's statue and then began to pray through the entire rosary together. I listened to the hum of their murmured prayers for awhile before I started back to the village.

On my way back, I walked with two Scottish ladies with brogue so thick I could scarcely understand them. They were excited and glowing about their experience in Medjugorje, having been there multiple times. Christina told me of the special handkerchief she had dipped into the water flowing from a bronze statue of Jesus that is supposed to have healing qualities. "My friend has terminal cancer and I am bringing it back to her," she told me. They were lovely ladies, and as we were walking and chatting, Christina's phone rang. Betty and I continued talking as we waited for Christina. Suddenly, we saw her walking along the sidewalk, weeping. Her friend that she had just told me about had passed away. It was an immensely tragic moment, watching her move from hope and excitement to terrible grief. I offered my condolences and was quietly moving away when Betty slipped me 5 Euros and some Mary medallions. "I have a feeling you'll be back, " she whispered as she embraced and kissed me.

Waiting at the bus stop to go back, I met two young Germans who had come to Medjugorje for their honeymoon. Their eyes were sparkling and they were brimming with stories about the peace and hope they find when they come. "Why do you think Jesus Himself does not appear?" I asked them. "Well, perhaps because a man is more stern, and Mary is like a mother full of compassion and easier to know because she is a woman, " the man answered. "But isn't the New Testament full of stories about the tenderness and compassion of Jesus? I can think of no one that surpasses Him," I countered. A doubtful look crossed his face. "Well, maybe, but....anyway...." . Just then their bus pulled up and they shook my hand. "Go up to the mountain!" he said to me. "I will pray for you"!

It was truly a fascinating day, and I think what most poignantly stood out to me is this: People are hungry for God and want to be close to Him.

First Impressions of Bosnia: Part 2-Dinner in Sarajevo

2008-08-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

"Can I sit here?" the man asked, standing over me while I was eating my lamb sandwich. "Sure," I said.

I was surprised to find out that the man was an Iraqi business man selling noodles in Bosnia(his biggest competitor is Ramen!). When he first told me he was Iraqi, I tensed up, but he actually grew up in Dubai and loves Americans.

"Americans, they are good people inside. You have a bad government sending all those soldiers over to Iraq to die, but American people are good. " He began to tell me of all his business ventures: his chicken farms, his hopes to buy land in Serbia and put Muslims to work, etc. I watched, fascinated, as he took gigantic bites of his greasy sandwich and continued to talk as if he did not have a small mountain in his mouth and occasional saliva dripping down to the table.

As he told me about his young wife and kids, we moved quickly into a civil disagreement after he stated his desire to take a second wife who was Bosnian. "I need a son with Arab and Bosnian blood to run this end of the business, " he told me. "How is your wife going to feel about this?" I asked him. Finally he stated: "What can she say? The Qu'ran allows it! Besides, is it better to have a girlfriend or a wife?" He looked expectantly for my answer, and since I was thinking with an American mind and he was thinking with an Arab Muslim mind, I had no response for him. We then moved on to arguing about whether it was better to keep it a secret from his wife or not. "It's better if she doesn't know so she won't get hurt; I love my wife very much!" He insisted. "How is she going to feel in 10 years when she finds out about your second family?" I answered.

In the end, we were joined by his Director from Bosnia, and they gave me their card and told me if I needed any help in Bosnia, to give them a call.

Note for the Reader: I certainly did not plan to get in this particular conversation nor would I particularly advise such a conversation on one's first night in a new country.

First Impressions in Bosnia: Part 1

2008-08-30T13:42:00.000-07:00

I stepped off the train at dawn, feeling very alone as my feet touched Bosnian soil for the first time. I was supposed to meet a local pastor at 7:15, but it was only 5 o'clock, and Zenica isn't exactly a thriving metropolis at that hour. Wild dogs were skittering around the streets; one looked at me with a half-guarded, half hopeful look. When I spoke kindly to it, it ran up and began gleefully nipping my heels and wagging its tail. Word must have quickly spread in the wild-dog world, because as I began roaming the streets looking for a bank machine, all of a sudden there were three dogs following me.

Dario, a Bosnian pastor, picked me up for the church's daily 7:30 a.m. prayer service. He said he began it just with one other man, and every morning they walked around the city praying together. A couple of months ago, his church had grown to 30 people and 10-12 would show up to prayer in the mornings. Unfortunately, there is great tension between another evangelical church in town(there are actually only three Protestant churches for a population of 110,000), and Dario lost a lot of members. This particular morning, only one man named Yhugo was there with us. And yet, Dario played his guitar, prayed, and sang with great passion.

Later on, as we chatted over chicken sandwiches, I began to realize the formidable challenges here in Bosnia for Christians. There are actually very few Christians in this country: 500-1000 are the estimates. Dario, himself a radical convert out of a life of drugs and alchohol, has challenges that almost seem to be choking him. He has almost no financial or other support and he trusts God to provide for him and his wife and two kids. The tensions and competition between the Evangelical churches in town seem quite ugly, and contribute to very little cooperation together. It is very difficult to evangelize here, due to a variety of reasons. Dario is trying to do everything himself, simply because there is no one else. "I need help!" he asserts. "I need someone to come for 4-5 years so they can learn the language and culture and share this responsibility!" Our first couple of hours together, he was enthusiastic and energetic; speaking of the challenges and frustrations and yet his face continually lighting up in an infectious smile. As the morning wore on, however, I sensed a fatigue and discouragement settling on him. We ended up watching his two girls practicing tennis at the local courts and he seemed lost in tiredness and silence. When I noticed him glancing at his watch a couple of times, I realized it was time for me to go. "I"m sorry, " he said as he shook my hand. "I'm so tired all the time now that sometimes it's hard to concentrate." I told him I would pray for him and tell people about his situation, but I wondered if he had hoped for more. Although I am usually unaware of such things, I was increasingly feeling stifled in the town. "What is your sense of the spiritual atmosphere here?" I asked him upon parting.

"It is very oppressive, " he answered.

Quite honestly, although I am ashamed to admit it, I could not wait to hop on the bus and leave the town.

The Veil over Vukovar

2008-08-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

Vukovar is quiet today
And yet
whistling through the pock-marked buildings
murmuring in the piles of rubble
are the faint and distant echoes of
violence
hatred
destruction
agony
tears

A city's survival of a three month siege
untold murders
rapes
torture
bloodshed
is no small miracle.

The victors thought
the last few remaining
carted away half-dead,
minds wailing the dirge-like notes
of memories to heavy to bear,
would signal an ethnic triumph

And yet admist this grisly death
The city lives,
but not easily.
It is like a sleeping beast
and its food is destruction
were it to be awoken hungry once more.

Life and death
stand side by side
against the grey sky
one proud in its post-war beauty
the other huddled ashamed
against his brother's wall,
its decaying sides
mocking the fresh paint next door.

Does Jesus sit over every ravaged city
weeping over humanity's lust for power?
Does He walk the streets
sit among the rubble
waiting for someone to notice Him?

Croatia

2008-08-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

The church clock is striking midnight outside in Osijeck, Croatia, and the storm that has been pounding my window for the last hour is fading into a pleasant pattering. For those of you who quickly had to grab a world map to discover the whereabouts of Osijeck, join the club. I have been keeping an Eastern European map very handy these days.

This is my first day in Osijeck, and it has already been an eventful day. The Missions conference ended last night and this afternoon I accepted a kind offer from the academic dean of Osijek's Evangelical Theological Seminary. Thus, after a quite pleasant car ride, I am now comfortably set up in the guest quarters for the night.

As we crossed the border into Croatia, I suddenly felt that I had entered a movie. The academic dean got out of the car and began animatedly discussing a matter with which clearly the border guards were very unhappy. The border guards were opening and gesturing at one of the five boxes of books that the dean was carrying back from the conference to distribute to seminaries in Croatia, Bosnia, and Serbia. Finally, we pulled out of line and parked the car where the dean switched from Croatian to his native Romanian to describe the situation to our other companion. I, of course, speaking neither of those languages, decided to remain unobtrusively quiet. We were there for almost an hour, in which two more guards came up to get proof that the books were donations for seminaries and that we really were at the conference we claimed to be, before the guard let us go. As we drove away, the Dean admitted that although it was a bit of ridiculous situation, as we were not carting alcohol or drugs across the border, they were technically in the right because he had not filled out the proper forms stating they were a donation. Both men had a good laugh that the American student was able to get a little taste of post-Communist borders!

Later on, we were enjoying dinner on a restaurant patio when a fierce storm swept down on us quite suddenly. Large branches were flying across the patio, my cheeks were getting pelted with gravel, and we found it very hard to enjoy our pizza. The thunder and lightning have been truly magnificent! After constant heat, I truly welcome the freshness of a rain.

In the next couple of days, I hope to go visit Vukovar, just south of here, which was a stronghold of violence during the war. It was already sobering enough to see remaining effects of the war here in Osijek, including bullet holes in buildings and a town that looks like it has seen much tragedy.

The House of Terror and Pieces of Joy

2008-08-20T08:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, day three of the Missiological Studies conference which I am attending was devoted to what was called "Exposure Trips". I travelled to the one entitled "Christianity under an Ideology", which essentially wanted to expose us to what the Church in Hungary was doing during 41 years of a Totalitarian regime (one year of national socialism and 40 years of Communism). It was an extremely moving and interesting day. First, we went to see the House of Terror: both the Nazi's and Communists used this house as a detention center and torture place for "enemies of the state". Next, we went to hear from four Church leaders, representing the basic four Christian streams in Hungary(Catholic, Lutheran, Reformed, and Baptist, regarding their experience under Communism. I was most moved by the Benedictine priest who served 10 years in the Gulag, the Communist version of a concentration camp in Siberia, and I feel compelled to share the highlights of his story.

Father Oloffson's words moved me deeply, not just because of his story, but from the quiet power that emanates from words forged during the crucible of suffering. I scribbled furiously as he spoke, trying to capture the words themselves, but being conscious that I could not capture his fiery spirit which exploded from his body in animated gestures and through his loud, passionately expressive voice. In fact, although he was 92 years old, the best word to describe his demeanour is LIFE: he radiated a full and joyous life. Perhaps you can see this in the picture that was taken of he and I!

He said that shortly before he was sentenced to the Gulag, God gave Him a special experience in which He revealed his assignment in the Gulag: to encourage his fellow prisoners. "We were not heroes", he claims, "but we wanted to survive the hell, because it was hell". To do this, he and some others came up with four rules that enabled their survival over the next 10 years of nine hours a day, seven days a week of gruelling manual labor in the harsh Siberian climate.

1. "We should not dramatize suffering, because it makes you weaker". In other words, they did not allow complaining, and when one member of their little group began complaining, he was forced to start talking about his former occupation before the Gulag.
2. "We should not be looking for suffering...suffering will come on its own, but we should be searching for the little joyous moments of life". In fact, they went so far in this as to have "Pieces of joy Olympics". At the end of a day, they would compare who had found the most moments of joy and the two highest would compete the next day. The final winner would have his favorite song sung to him by the others. One such piece of joy is as follows: They would not be forced to go outside to work when the temperature hit negative 20 below Celsius because it was too cold for the horses. Although a horse's life was considered more important than theirs, they found the joy in remaining inside for the day!
3. "At the right moments, boost your self esteem (when you are treated like an animal, he said it is difficult to maintain your own thoughts as a human being) by proving yourself better than your captors and oppressors".
4."The one who has someone to hold onto, it is easier for him/her to survive suffering.We believers cling to the Lord, and we discover that He wants our survival".

Although not all the group of 26 Hungarians were believers before this experience, they all survived and are all now believers. From stories like this, I always ask myself what sort of Christian I will be when confronted with impossible circumstances. Will I be able to follow the suffering Christ down such a narrow road? Would I be able to take a special assignment in the Gulag and carry it out faithfully during 10 years of hell? I think it is difficult for Americans such as myself to really understand such a regime, but we have much to learn from such people who have had such life experiences. Yesterday, I was humbly aware that I was in the presence of greatness. I close with a last quote from Father Oloffson:

"Why am I so happy? Because I am a child of the gospel. And that was my task, to bring this happiness into that situation".

Gypsies: Not quite the romantic figures in my childhood storybooks

2008-08-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

As soon as I found out that Esther, the pastor of a small Reformed church in Budapest, has a special calling to what she calls "gypsy ministry", I was completely intrigued. Gypsies seem to be the scourge of Hungary. Although they are less than 10 percent of the population, their populations are rapidly growing while the "white" Hungarians are shrinking(although gypsies are considered to be Hungarian citizens, there is always a distinction made between "Hungarians" and "Gypsies"). You might see the gypsies as musicians and beggars, and often stereotyped as thieves and sluggards, for most are illiterate and rarely do any keep a job.

"Well, the stereotypes are kind of true, " one Hungarian Christian told me. "In fact, I had an experience where two gypsy men and a gypsy woman tried to rob me".

Esther used to pastor a small congregation in the Ukraine, where there is a large Hungarian minority population who were unfortunately on the wrong side of the territorial pie that was sliced up post-World War II. She told me the story of a Hungarian woman who in 1992 felt called by God to participate in ministry. She went to her pastor who told her that she needed to first receive some training. One day she had an encounter with a gypsy, and began to entertain the idea of praying for the gypsies. Although this idea was at first repugnant, as she started praying for them and visiting their villages, she began to develop relationships with them. Ten years later, a gypsy woman saw the Jesus film and realized the message was for her. She wasn't sure what to do so she went to visit the very Hungarian woman who had been faithfully praying and visiting for 10 years. And thus began the blossoming of the gospel in that particular gypsy area of the Ukraine. The Hungarian woman invited the gypsy woman to a Bible study in the Reformed Church, and she brought two friends. Eventually, because the gypsies began to overpower the Hungarians, who were also reluctant to participate in Communion with them, the Bible Study moved onto gypsy territory. My new friend Esther enters the story at this point: she was called on to administer the sacraments to the gypsies as well as developing training programs for some of the new Christians.

These age-old Hungarian-Gypsy tensions are an interesting and unexpected find for my research. I think probably most countries have their "gypsies": a marginalized, stereotyped group of people who don't fit in with the larger culture, and have many problems and issues that may threaten or are perceived to threaten the stability of the general society.

Exploring Budapest

2008-08-16T00:05:00.000-07:00

A day in Budapest is not nearly enough to explore its beauty and mysteries, but I tried to make the most of it, even though the temperature was in the 90's(not unlike L.A.) with an extremely high humidity(unlike L.A.). Consequently, my first night in my hostel was almost unbearable: six people in a small room with no air-conditioning or fans, on the fourth floor and myself being in a top bunk! It was like being stuck in a sweaty sock that had just been on a 21 day wilderness course. However, other than that, this is great hostel. I had a great day, probably walking close to 10 miles, exploring the castle district and other historical sites. I had the pleasant surprise of making a new friend: Matt is a medical student who met Kelli in India and happens to live in Budapest! He very graciously showed me some sites yesterday evening, and I plied him with questions about the spiritual climate of the city, gypsies, and other questions that only a local could answer. There's nothing I love better than to travel a foreign city with a local! I move onto Balaton today, where the missions conference is being held. Although the temperature is taking a cooling trend, I look forward to being right on a lake!

Vienna quips

2008-08-14T00:53:00.001-07:00

-I love the traditional Viennese coffee called the "melange".
-The Viennese film festival that i have been enjoying is not really showing films. The first night it showed a Japanese opera, and the second night it highlighted a Venezuelan symphony. I found it interesting the amount of young people that turned out to watch this classical music.
-I awoke this morning to a cockroach crawling in my ear. Not really what I expected in Europe, although I have been suspicious for some time that the Australian cockroaches have sent out an international alert to terrorize me wherever I go since I made such a dent in their colony. However, I handled this rude awakening very maturely: I just let out a little yell and threw myself off my bed, hunted down the cockroach, and sent him to cockcroach....uh...afterlife.
-I had a great lunch with Don, an American who has been here for 22 years. See post below for details.

"The Heaven's are closed, but...."

2008-08-14T00:50:00.000-07:00

“Austria is beyond a post-Christian culture”, said Don over the Greek food he suggested we eat. “But of course people are searching. I think Austria has the second highest youth suicide rate in the world. They don’t want to talk about the church; however, in recent years they are more open to talk about Jesus. The lack of spiritual vitality here is not because Christians are not trying, though. It almost feels like the heavens are shut”.
Don, an American living in Austria for the past 22 years, currently runs a non-profit aimed at unifying Christians across denominational lines in Austria. Despite Don’s feeling that the heaven’s are shut, he testifies to glimmers of God’s movement. When he and a friend came to seek the blessing of the Austrian Cardinal regarding part of their ecumenical vision, they were surprised when the Cardinal placed his hands on them and blessed them before they could barely get the words out. It turns out that the Cardinal had had a dream in which God had told him to bless the work two Americans coming to visit him.
“Being part of this is one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, although it has its extreme difficulties. Theological balance is inherently part of these gatherings because of the denominational representation. Sometimes, all we can agree on is our confession of Christ”. But Don says that this is really all they are required to agree on.
“If the church cannot be reconciled within itself, what hope does a place like Bosnia have? “ asks Don, who was involved in relief work in Bosnia right after the war. He believes it has to start within the church. Part of why he thinks there are little holes growing the spiritual atmosphere is this movement toward unity as well as the intense intercession that remains a central part of their reconciliation ministry.
Another part of Don’s part reconciliation ministry branches into Messianic Jews and Christian Gentiles. Over ten years ago, three men (two messianic Jews and one Gentile Christian from different countries) had a similar vision of a second Jerusalem council, which would counterbalance the first council (See Acts 15). In other words, just as Gentiles were released to be full members of Christ body while still being Gentiles, this second council would release Jews to be Jews. These three men all traveled to Auswitch where they spontaneously met and discovered they all had a similar vision. For the last 10+ years, they have been periodically traveling around and holding mini councils with churches to share their vision.
“At the end of the day, God reigns over the earth and all nations. I think Western Christians, like Israel in Scripture, have underestimated our covenant with God. I believe as conflicts in the world continue to happen and even expand, reconciliation between all committed Christians will increasingly be needed. Maybe one day we will be forced to cling together because that is all we’ll have”.
In Don’s view, staying focused on Christ while building relationships is crucial. Once that relationship is there it becomes easier to disagree and discuss doctrine while remaining united in Christ.
“It’s a long road,” says Don, “but we’re making progress. And there are signs of change”. Quite a significant statement, in my opinion, after 22 years of faithfulness. What a great lunch!

The Joy of the Wild...er....I mean Los Angeles

2008-08-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

Last night I successfully trapped eight feral cats in order to take them to the free spay/neuter clinic this morning. Folks, let me tell you something: You have not truly lived until you have driven through L.A. traffic with eight feral cats piled in your car. Any visual images that you just pictured from that last sentence are probably true: only multiply it by 100. The crazy thing is that I am trying to get ready for my month long trip to Europe. Shouldn't feral cats be the lowest thing on my priority list? Well, perhaps for a sane person. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of calling a couple of non-profit feral cat organizations in the L.A. area regarding the growing cat colony next door. Make no mistake: Once you have made such calls to people EXTREMELY committed to saving all the feral cats of Los Angeles, there is no going back. They send you emails and leave phone messages checking up on your progress with trapping the colony, not to mention that when they learned I was going to be gone for a month, made offers of who to hire to feed the colony while I am gone! It is under this kind of pressure that I crumbled and decided to attempt to trap the entire cat colony.

For those of you who are worried that my father's worst fears are coming true and I am becoming a creepy cat lady, put your minds at rest. I do not yet have a motor home or school bus, and I promise I AM NOT KEEPING THESE CATS!

P.S. I just discovered I have a baby possum living outside my window that crawls around in the bushes all night. No wonder Nattie wakes me up every night to bark out the window! Where do I live again?

Neighbor News

2008-07-15T11:13:00.001-07:00

I like my neighbors...they are both nice and quirky, which is just perfect for a neighborhood, in my opinion. My neighbors to the northeast have been raising baby possums the last few weeks. It has been a little disconcerting seeing one of them walking around with a possum crawling all over their body, given my childhood traumatic memory of a possum killing all of my bunnies and leaving their body parts strewn about the lawn. A few days ago, they accidently left the cage unlocked, and suprisingly, the possums left(those ungrateful beasts!). The mother is very worried and asked my neighbor to the East: "What do you think they are eating?" Mmmmmm, luckily there are plenty of other possums around, so the good news is that there is plenty of possum food to keep those suckers alive.

My neighbor to the West has a yard that looks like it was hit with a bomb. He had a giant yard sale about 6 months ago, and when nothing sold, he just sort of left it all outside. This yard houses about 3 feral adult cats and 6 feral kittens, which I have been taming and hoping to move off the streets(yes, I admit this is my own particular quirkiness). Anyway, I brave his yard about every other day to go say hello to the cats. The other morning, I ran into him sitting on his front porch, bare-chested, having a morning smoke. Although I found it somewhat awkward to conduct a conversation with a shirtless, smoking man, I politely began to give him an update about the cat situation. Unfortunately, at that moment, our neighbor across the street turned on his very loud leaf-blower, thereby reducing our already awkward conversation to a loud shouting match. The good news is, of course, the whole neighborhood probably received the cat update, so maybe they will feel inclined to help. The bad news is, of course, that they were probably thinking: "Who are those two fruit loops?"

Rain: the milk of heaven

2008-07-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

In a surprising twist, a freak thunderstorm just arose, complete with lightening, thunder, and heavy rain! I watched it come over the San Gabriel's-- first with the flashes of silent lightening, then as it got closer, the accompanying rumbles of thunder. When the rain started I just went outside and inhaled long, deep breaths of the fresh air, marveling that this experience could be so soul-satisfying. My favorite part was that when I went outside, I could hear screams of joy from kids all over the neighborhood-running around and enjoying the novel experience of the rain.

New York or Bust: Adventures with Latter-Day Saints and New Yorkers

2008-06-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

I was warned before going to New York that New Yorkers are often rude, particularly to tourists. With this warning in mind, I kept my eyes and ears open for this kind of behavior, but instead was overwhelmed by the helpfulness and kindness of strangers in both Palmyra and New York City in restaurants, subway, and street corners. This experience, along with the beauty of upstate New York and the electric feeling pulsating through New York City, is enough to make me want to visit again.

My journey began in Palmyra, New York, where 21 Evangelical and Mormon scholars and students met for two days to discuss the topic of "revelation" in conjunction with visiting Joseph Smith's birthplace and some of the sacred sites where he allegedly received both revelations and the golden plates. This was a fascinating two days, watching and observing the respectful yet honest ways the scholars engaged with each other as well as contemplating within myself what might have happened as I walked through the "Sacred Grove" (where Joseph Smith received his first revelation) and meandering through the farmhouse where he dictated the Book of Mormon. The two days raised many questions and new thoughts for me and also helped me to see the value of this kind of dialogue which seems more profitable and truth seeking rather than the polarization and defensiveness that often comes through debate. Also, I had my own beautiful room in the hotel which was larger than my living space here in Pasadena! It was like a mini-retreat.

After the dialogue, two of the other students and I drove up to New York City and spent an exhilarating and exhausting 2 two days cramming as much sight-seeing in as we could. Aside from our many mistakes on the Subway(the first series resulting in us being buried within the system for about two hours with all our luggage) we had a grand time seeing Chicago on Broadway, Times Square, Soho, Ground Zero, Wall Street, Ellis and Liberty Island, Central Park, and many other sites. This visit merely whet my appetite for more exploration of the East Coast!

Passing the torch

2008-06-05T08:27:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I participated in my baccalaureate service(can you believe I am graduating?). It was a very moving service for me for two reasons: first, I couldn't help but reflect on what a wonderful two years it has been, and how God has provided for and blessed me here at Fuller. I cannot believe how fast it has gone! I'm glad I have one more year to study theology.

Second, dear Dr. Scholer gave the message. He spoke on the importance of remembering ourselves as being "jars of clay" whom are cracked and weak, so that the power of God is able to radiate out from our cracks. Over and over he reminded us that it is not about us, but about God, and that we have this treasure in clay jars. I have heard this message before; but this was particularly poignant because Dr. Scholer is at the end of his life. His terminal cancer that he has had for the last 6 years just spread to his brain a month ago. He was so weak he had to be helped up to the stage by two people. He is a man in the twilight of his life, and his sermon was perhaps the last public address he will ever give. To see a man who remains faithful up to this very point, when he is facing imminent death, was a powerful exhortation to all of us who are setting out on a new phase of life. If this was one of the most important lessons of his life, that God's grace is sufficient in our weakness, than surely we need to embrace that as we set out.

Although at times his voice quivered, or choked up with emotion, his final AMEN with which he ended his sermon was strong and confident, and had most of us in tears and then brought us to our feet in applause as we recognized his lifelong faithfulness to Christ. What a moment.

Why?

2008-05-07T20:33:00.000-07:00

Why does a new parking ticket come just when you've paid off the old one?
Why does the banana bread you've looked forward to eating all day have mold on it?
Why does the garbage truck come at 6 a.m. the only day you can sleep in a little?
Why does early morning truck coincide with the day of a three hour midterm?
Why do fun things happen on the same day?

Well, it feels good to complain on a blog. I think I got it off my chest.

2008-05-01T13:44:00.000-07:00

" What the Gospel offers is not a new understanding of self in an unchanged world but an invitation to adventure in a world in which all things have become new". Stephen Neill

Spring Break 2008!

2008-04-06T15:34:00.000-07:00

What a grand time! I was able to enjoy some great skiing(minus the first day and a half when I swore to myself I would never come skiing again), some beautiful mountains, and reunions with 3 different sets of friends! I felt very fortunate and thankful to have such a great time away for spring break. If you are reading this and were someone who was very patient with me when I was freaking out on my skis on the top of a steep hill...well, all I can offer in return is for you to come to L.A. and I will drive the crazy freeways for you.

Oink

2008-03-20T21:40:00.000-07:00

Today I went for a run with Nattie, and we ran past a lady standing out in her front lawn with a very pink, Wilbur-sized pig. As I ran past, I heard her telling it to sit. The pig just looked at her and grunted.

Out of my element: My experience at the Nigerian immigrant church

2008-03-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I attended a Nigerian immigrant church in the heart of Los Angeles for a school paper. I really didn't know what to expect, but it was a rich and rewarding experience. The church was small, only about 30 people, and I have a feeling that we were the first white guests to spontaneously pop into the little run-down room they use as a church. We were warmly welcomed and celebrated as visitors, and I felt much more at home there than at most Western churches I visit where it usually takes a few months for people to talk to you. Let me highlight a few of my favorite moments:

- One man who was giving the announcements asked any visitors to raise their hands(of course, my friend and I were the only ones that did). They then broke out into a song that began, "We love our family..." and each person danced past us, hugging us or shaking our hand.

-Their music was all leftover 80's and 90's American worship choruses, yet they had changed the feel of them into their own distinctive style. It was exciting worship!

-The giving of tithes was an experience in itself (Praise God I had some money in my pocket). Everyone who was giving tithe came up to the front, blessings were said, and then a celebratory African song was played while everyone danced(literally) up to a large gold cauldron and put their tithe in.

-During the sermon, one of the choir members was nodding off- consequently, one of the ushers came and stood sternly over him until his eyes opened. I almost laughed out loud at his sheepish look.

-Afterwards, we were ushered into a small back room and fed as many grapes and bananas as we could stomach. Everybody was so amazed that we had come and begged us to come back.

-The pastor, a woman with a powerful spiritual presence, was reluctant to let our hands go when we were saying good-bye.

All in all, I think if that church was closer to my house, I would go back. It felt so good to be worshipping in a new culture!

Am I susceptible to sugar pills?

2008-03-06T22:47:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else slightly peeved about the Airborne lawsuit? I will admit that I bought into their marketing scheme: hook, line, and tablet. Every time I felt the smallest hint of a cold coming on, I would go out and spend the 8 dollars, and religiously consume the tablets every three to four hours until the cold symptoms went away. Was that really all due to a placebo effect? Am I just a giant pawn in the game of marketing economics? Is that second grade teacher who supposedly invented it, sitting in the Bahamas, drinking a pina-colada, and laughing up her sleeve at us "sickies"? My favorite part of the whole deal is that the company magnanimously is offering to repay those who can "prove" their purchase of Airborne. Anyone who is diligent enough to save their Airborne receipt from three years ago deserves to collect from that company...and maybe with interest compounded from every cold experienced.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=87937907

I have been revolutionized!!!(By the Song of Solomon)

2008-02-22T17:59:00.001-08:00

Okay, maybe revolutionized is a strong word. But this is the first time that I have ever studied the Song of Solomon (beyond a cursory read through which resulted in me thinking confusedly, "Okay, why is he comparing her breasts to twin fawns?"). I found it a somewhat profound understanding of love and sex. I actually cannot recall an entire sermon ever being preached on this(unless of course it was taught in Sunday School classes for young marrieds). Here is my challenge to you: If you have never studied the Song of Songs at length, read it through at least seven times in a week.

I wonder why we do not use this book in youth groups as a basis for which to talk about love and sex? I mean, let's throw out the 12 step manuels of why it is a good idea to keep sex in marriage, and just use the Song of Songs! It seems like it would provide an understanding of love that is missing today in the smoke and mirrors provided by our friend Hollywood. One of the most profound lines that reappears throughout the book is: "do not stir or awaken love until it is ready". This is a line that appears throughout the man and woman's stated desire and yearning for each other.

Another thing I like about the song is the image of women it portrays. The woman is headstrong and passionate, and she seems to be pursuing her love just as he is pursuing her. I like the fact that she is not some weak, fainting maiden waving a hanky at a big burly prince who comes to rescue her. (This image might may you think of an image of a woman portrayed by some popular evangelical books, but you will note that I did not name the authors or the titles in an effort to be diplomatic).

Anyway, I leave you with this quote from the book: "How graceful your feet are in sandals, O queenly maiden. Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand". (When is the last time you heard someone complimented for rounded thighs? Wow, our sense of beauty has sure changed!!)

The Valentine's Day (Pleasant) Surprise

2008-02-15T16:31:00.000-08:00

Last night I came home from a long day at school, knowing that I had to get up at 4 a.m. the next morning for work. On the table was a box addressed to me that had been delivered that day. I stood awhile looking at the box's peculiar shape, trying to remember if I had ordered something online. Finally, I saw an inscription on the outside of the box which read: "Open immediately, flowers enclosed". "Flowers"? I thought. "Who on earth is sending me flowers"? All of a sudden I got a pit of dread in my stomach, thinking that perhaps my stalker of last year found out my address and was making a renewed attempt to win my heart. I hastily opened the box to discover a beautiful rose bouquet and an enclosed card. Who was it from? My brother and my five year old nephew! As you can imagine, I was completely taken aback. Hands down, this is one of the most unexpectedly nice surprises I have received in recent years.

Charlie bit my finger - again !

2008-02-10T09:09:00.001-08:00

I'm sure everyone has seen this video..but I really enjoyed it!

Lament Psalm

2008-02-04T13:26:00.000-08:00

I had to write a Lament Psalm for my Old Testament Writings class. I thought I would go ahead and post it.

Lament

Oh God, my God, why do you keep your ways so hidden?
Why is your Presence so often elusive?

And yet you are a God who is near;
In the stunning magnificence of your creation
In the tender care You offer to the smallest creature
Your glory is proclaimed in the mountains’ formidable challenge
And your praise echoes from the beak of the red-tailed hawk,
its soaring freedom testifying of Your abundant grace.

Creation’s cycles tell of your faithfulness;
Your abundant love buds unfailingly each spring
When the storms rise up
with lightning’s ferocity,
I hide in your trees’ embrace,
finding shelter and safety under the swaying canopy.

But then the lightning strikes the trees around me
They explode in the thunder’s roar
The flames rise up on all sides
And the mighty rain runs down my body.
Naked and exposed I crouch in the dirt
Shivering and wet I wind my arms tightly around me.

What happened to your protection, oh God?
Why did you leave me exposed and fragile,
Subject to every assault from nature’s fury?
Do I have no advocate, no one to whom I can plead for my life?
How were the trees’ steadfastness
So easily overcome by destruction?

The storm has passed,
And I have dried my own clothes
And cut off my singed hair.
And yet I still tremble inside
Shivering with the cold expectation
Of the next storm.

What will you do next time, Oh Lord?
How much will the storm pummel me?
I wait to hear Your words
Confirming the promise in your character.
How does the faithfulness of your creation
translate to my life?
Is my answer found in the inevitability of winter’s death
And the irrepressible promise of spring?

American Gladiators or Bust!

2008-01-31T15:47:00.000-08:00

The line that you see in this picture was my home for 8 hours on Saturday. Now, you might assume that if I was standing in line for 8 hours, I must have had a very noble and important reason. Feeding the hungry? To see Billy Graham? To get important immunization shots?

Actually, the truth is....I tried out for American Gladiators. I will admit that I dreamed about it for a few nights straight before the actual tryouts. In my dreams, my physical prowess awed the producers and other hopefuls, and the force of my personality captured their attention to where they exclaimed: "We must have this woman on our show!"

However, I must admit that my mental stamina was somewhat worn down by the 8 hour line, although I had plenty of entertainment from my new best friends standing with me. The lady in front was a body-builder model dressed in a skimpy bikini top, camo pants, and sporting long bleached-blond hair and a convienent Italian accent. Every time T.V. cameras went by, they pulled her for an interview. Looking slightly disheveled in my t-shirt and sporty pants, I grinned behind her, hoping the cameras might pick up my presence.

When my turn finally came, it was dark and the A.G. people were crabby and tired. I started on my pull-ups, and was stymied at 5, although all the guys behind me watching were bellowing, " Come on, get up there...beat it! Beat it!" I think my best event was the sprints...although I was heaving strongly, I was able to speed up my last couple to finish strong. Feeling like I was going to throw up, I rested my hands on my knees. "Are you okay?" my tester said to me. I quickly jerked up and pasted a sunny smile on my face. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm great!"

My interview with the producer was where I made virtually no impression. Sneakily, they have you interview about a minute after you finish the sprints. Disoriented (and still in the dark) all my planned out witty and catchy answers flew right out of my head. I'm not exactly sure what I answered to some of his questions, but much to my chagrin, I do remember ending one of my answers with the words "and stuff", which trailed off into an ellipsis rather than a period.

Well, all I can say is, I've done my Hollywood duty!

Catching up, misadventures, and other matters

2008-01-25T15:07:00.000-08:00

It's been so long since I have written, I'm pretty positive that the only one who is still checking my blog is my mother. However, I have decided to start writing again as a stress relief and life-documentation.

Recently, I travelled up to Fresno to say goodbye to my dear friends the Cosbys. The goodbye dinner was bittersweet for me: present was the joy of reconnecting with old friends who had become like family to me, and the sadness of coming to terms with life's inevitable changes.

The next day, I woke up sad and pensive, and it was in this state that I agreed to accompany the Barkers to Grampo's farm. This was perhaps my first central valley farm experience, and there is just something about being out in the fresh air surrounded by growing things that can revive a person.

However, it wasn't the delicious three course meal that snapped me out of melancholy, nor the brandy in my after-lunch coffee that Grampo insisted I try. Rather, it was the invigorating, freeing, and somewhat out-of-control ATV ride.

For some reason, Jamie's husband Brad thought I should drive, so he taught me the finer points of navigating the gears and gas, and then Jamie and I were off. My first few moments of flying through the vineyards with Nattie and the other dogs tearing along side were glorious. What is it about going fast on a small motor vehicle that makes a person so happy? As we rounded a corner, Jamie yelled in my ear: "Look at Nattie!" I turned my head and she was galloping through the vineyards...a noble beast of grace and beauty(ok, that last phrase was a bit over the top!).

Unfortunately, when I turned my head, I also turned the steering wheel, and we veered off the road, straight toward the vineyard. From there, everything went into slow motion: Jamie shrieking wildly in my ear, the rapidly approaching fence and vines, my mental numbness and acceptance of our fate.

With a loud thump, we rammed into one of the grape vines, uprooting it. Realizing we were unharmed, we began laughing hysterically. Since I did not know how to put it in reverse(and I had completely forgotten I actually had brakes), we put it into neutral, pushed it back onto the road, and re-planted the grapevine.

Nothing like a little adrenaline to snap you out of a funk!

Happy dance

2007-12-11T23:19:00.001-08:00

Please click on the link if you want to see my happy dance celebrating my successful quarter completion(the last paper was turned in 10 minute before the final deadline...I think I'm improving).

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1273547487

Library Bizarro-time

2007-12-03T13:51:00.000-08:00

For some obscene reason, they are drilling down in the basement of the library on Monday of finals week. I would leave, except I am using some books I cannot take out of the library. The librarian just walked around and passed out earplugs to everyone. I thought I would take a picture of my current mental state in earplugs

Finals Time at Fuller

2007-11-27T22:17:00.000-08:00

You know it's the end of the quarter at Fuller when:

You can't find a place to sit in the library

Everyone seems a lot friendlier when you pass them on campus because they are desperate for human interaction after being cloistered for hours on end in the library

People let down there "wardrobe" guard a little more...I start seeing women err on the side of comfort over fashion

People start sharing fantasies to the tune of, "You know what I"m going to do when this is all over?"

Occasionally you see a frantic person rapidly moving across campus to some unknown destination or catastrophe

Once in a while you see a "bed-head" on someone(actually, males only for this one)

The vending machines are almost empty

AND,,,,,MEL GETS HER COMPUTER BACK!!!!! Yes, I will finish the quarter in style, on my (now blank) MAC.

P.S. The end of the fall quarter also means football finals! Stay tuned for a posting this Saturday that details the Chicks playing for the championship!

Mr. Murphy meets my Macbook

2007-11-09T21:38:00.000-08:00

I am trying to come to terms with something that happened yesterday morning. In a nutshell, my computer crashed and my hard drive is now obliterated. Not just damaged...but utterly gone. So gone that after seven hours of having my computer hooked up to whatever it is that attempts to retrieve data, the computer technician told me it was a wash.

The good news is that I did not lose everything; I had backed up my computer at the end of my summer quarter. The bad news, however, is that it is week 8 of my 10 week quarter, and therefore, my entire fall quarter is now non-existent. Notes, research, assignments, thoughts, ideas....everything.

This is what I am trying to come to terms with. I keep telling myself, "Put it in perspective: No one died, no one lost an eye or a leg, my home was not burned up", etc. etc. These are all very grand and noble gestures on my part to handle this maturely. But the bottom line is...this sucks. And as I sit here, in the library, by myself on this Friday evening, trying to focus on my part in a group project that needs to be done tomorrow, I've decided something. I've decided that I'm going to give myself a few hours to be discouraged, disheartened, to contemplate quitting, to feel sorry for myself, and to basically move through my emotional upheaval. I need a few hours of a sort of unabashed head-beating-against-the-wall-and-screaming fest. And then, I need to pick up, move on, and start over.

Did I mention that I am not as fond of Macs as I once was?

Jesus lizard

2007-11-06T21:50:00.001-08:00

My cute and knowledgeable five year old nephew taught me about the Jesus Lizard when I was in Oregon this past weekend. Although this is not the formal Latin name(although Spinner could tell us what that was), the folk name is quite apropos.

Utah Part 2- The Temple

2007-10-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

Visiting the temple was a bizarre experience. Coming from the conference where I was engaging in dialogue with thoughtful Mormon theologians and students, I felt like I had set foot in another dimension. Visiting the temple means much more then just one building. It is a relatively large property that encapsulates a myriad of buildings, chapels, grounds, museums, and dining areas. The whole area is swarming with helpful Mormons who seem incredibly eager to assist you in any way possible: Give you directions, a tour, information or history, and even their own personal testimony. The tour guides are all young, prettily dressed women who come from all over the world. I know that serving at the temple is an option for missionary service(side note: all Mormon men are required to give two years of missionary service. Women only need do this if they experience a particular "calling". And even then, their term is only 18 months), however, I found it intriguing that only woman were fulfilling their service there. What is the rationale for this? I hesitate to speculate.

The two women who gave us the tour were completely sincere and passionate about their faith, sprinkling bits of their testimony amidst their explanations of Mormon history. At one point in the tour, we sat in front of a 10-12 foot statue of Jesus, and listened to a deep-God like voice speak about Mormonism. We concluded the tour by watching an hour long film dramatizing Joseph Smith's life. This was very revealing...all the controversial aspects of his history had been left out. Not only that, even the visual effects of the film seemed slightly one-sided. He was a handsome, blond haired, blued eyed man who looked incredibly pious the whole movie, while the people who opposed or persecuted the Mormons had stringy, greasy hair, rotten teeth, and spoke in snarls and grunts.

The temple square is an aesthetically beautiful place; every piece of architecture is exquisitely done. Nonetheless, I was very uneasy at this manifestation of their faith. Perhaps it was the pretty young girls, who, although earnest and sincere, almost seemed parrot-like in their affirmations of the truth. Maybe it was the realization that their faith was so tied to a location, and this presented a more cult-like feeling to the whole experience. Whatever the case, I was there too short a time...I wish I would have had more time to explore.

The Chicks: A tearjerking loss

2007-10-27T16:45:00.000-07:00

Today's game was both exhilarating and heartbreaking. We lost with the close score of 13 to 8. Our defense was incredible. In fact, there were no scoring in 2/3 of the first half because they simply could not penetrate our defense. (And let me tell you, the guys in the opposing team were getting a tad frustrated). I believe we would have won if we could have played with our usual flare in our offensive game. We simply had way too many incompletes.

Near the end of the game, I could taste the victory. My vision became tunnel-like, looking for the holes in the defense, the noise of the crowd was droned out by my own heartbeat(okay, maybe there was only about 4 people on the sidelines), and even the huge Amazon man on the opposing team looked like he was made out of paper to me(he's not really from the Amazon but he seriously could have starred in "The last of the Mohicans"). In the end, even this primal-like aggression was not enough to score that final goal we needed. With a few seconds left in the game, one of our player's flags was pulled only a few inches from the touchdown line.

So, our current standings are 2:2. If you don't know what that means, it means we've won two and lost two. That's quite respectable when compared to our standings last year(which I will not reveal here for copyright(and embarassment) purposes). The news is starting to get around...the Chicks are dangerous. I found out from a "source" on the opposing team that an email had gone out a couple of days before the game warning everyone not to underestimate us. Mmmmmmmmm.......music to my ears!

The sights and sounds of Utah

2007-10-25T21:01:00.000-07:00

"So where do you think your spirit was before this life?" "What do you think the relationship of your family will be after death?" "If you use the Bible as your only authority, why do you have so many denominations?"

These were just some of the questions I was asked by my new Latter Day Saint friends this past weekend in Utah. The weekend was fascinating, although it raised many more questions than it answered. I will share with you a few highlights.

First, having the freedom to ask questions and hear how I am percieved as an evangelical by someone of a different faith was intriguing. As my opening quotations illustrate, the questions asked were just as revealing as the answers given. For example, eternal marriage and families are an imporant belief for those of the LDS faith.

Second, the Dean of the Intercultural School at Fuller was one of the conference presenters . The paper he gave was itself a brilliant missiological reflection, and yet the real highlight was the compelling way in which he presented it. I felt I was witnessing someone speaking in the power of the Holy Spirit: courageous, truthful, compassionate, and filled with an authority that seemed to surpass his humanity.

Third, one of the presentations by a popular and prominent LDS theologian was incredible. She told a testimony of encountering Christ a few years ago and how that changed her life. After her story, there wasn't a member of our little Fuller group who wasn't thinking, "If she hasn't experience salvation, than none of us has."

So of course that raises many questions. There are, without a doubt, disturbing theological differences between the LDS church and the orthodox church. However, I begin to suspect that God is doing something within the confines of the LDS church. This woman is the most popular theology professor at Brigham Young University, and she has enormous influence over hundreds of students each year. And you know what she is teaching her students? They come in thinking that evangelicals believe that one can accept grace and then live however one chooses whereas Mormons work for their grace. She challenges that assumption, and from the "Quad" (the Mormon holy books which encompass the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, and the Doctrine and Covenants), shows how it is through Christ, and Christ alone, that salvation, and therefore true life, comes.

Confusing? Exciting? Disturbing? Join the crowd! I will save my commentary on the LDS temple(which we toured) for another entry...this one is becoming a tad too long.

I see....UTAH....in my future!

2007-10-17T21:35:00.000-07:00

This weekend I head to Salt Lake City to attend a conference for Mormons and Evangelicals regarding both the need for and the potential pitfalls of dialogue. I will be going with a few other people from Fuller, and there will be some professors from Fuller speaking. This was a totally unexpected surprise and gift...and I cannot tell you how excited I am! I hope to be able to visit the temple, have interesting conversations with Mormons, and have at least one unexpected adventure. You can expect a blog entry following this weekend which will hopefully detail these three areas.

P.S. The Pasadena parking mafia must have caught word about this good news in my life. To pour a little rain on my parade, they issued me yet another parking ticket today while I was at work. My blood continues to heat at a slow simmer on this matter......

Now I may be biased.......

2007-10-11T20:46:00.000-07:00

but the Chicks are really cool. I think we may have more plays up our sleeve than the standard NFL team. Tonight at practice, Coach Ipp ran us through some new twists and turns of plays that were already slightly twisted and turned. If you were in a Chicks huddle during a game, here is what you might hear when Ipp calls the play:

"Spread Right, Counter Left, Utah Right"
or
"Eye Pro, Twins Right,Smash, Hook, Center Shuffle, Guard Flat"

Don't be surprised if you idly turn on the T.V. some day and you see the first ever women's professional flag football league. If the WNBA did it, by golly, why not us? And seriously, who wouldn't want to watch us? Forget the "burly" guys in tights and shoulder pads(by the way, guys, those really went out in the 80's), because we are like lithe cheetahs on the field.

GO CHICKS!!

The Nobodies

2007-10-09T19:46:00.000-07:00

The Nobodies

Who are not, but could be.
Who don’t speak languages, but dialects.
Who don’t have religions, but superstitions.
Who don’t create art, but handicrafts.
Who don’t have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who don’t have faces, but arms.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies, that are not worth the bullet that kills them

Eduardo Galeanao
The Book of Embraces
W. W. Norton, 1991

I don't believe it has ever occured to me that it is the powerful, educated, and affluent that often write history, thereby taking upon him/herself to describe the worlds of the nobodies.

Beginning of Fall Quarter....and other pertinent news

2007-09-27T14:24:00.000-07:00

The first week of my fall quarter has left me dazed and confused. My classes look excellent, but intimidating as usual, my books look fascinating, but expensive as usual, and all the firm resolutions I made in the summer to keep organized and disciplined are already out the window(Does anyone know someone who works at a storage and organizational store? I need help). Because I am reeling from the fast-paced nature of this week, I decided to sum up some important news tidbits.

1. The Chicks, my beloved flag football team, is up and running once more. We have our first scrimmage on Saturday. Due to our very fierce and mighty presence last year(although we only won one game) Fuller intramural sports came up with a new rule: All teams must have at least two males on the field at all times. It's a pity when equal opportunity comes full circle. Anyway, we had to recruit another male.

2. I finally had my meeting with the head of the Pasadena Transportation Department. Prepared to meet and argue with a bullish troll of a man with large-horned rimmed glasses and sneering face(the only type of person who would ruin others' lives with parking tickets, of course), my strategy was completely dislodged by the gentle, mild-mannered man who stood before me. I was further thrown off by the snippy woman in the background who kept putting her two cents in with a bored roll of her eyes. I found out that this problem is shared by many businesses in the area(such as Starbucks), and consequently, I'm sure the city of Pasadena is making a killing knowing that every worker who has to get to work before 6 a.m. is at risk of paying a $36.00 parking ticket. My only real recourse would be to start a petition and go to the City Council. This, of course, would take quite a bit of time and money. Due to these factors, I regret that I will not be leading a parking revolution here in Pasadena.

3. We actually got our first rain down here...quite shocking when you think that last year this area only accumulated 1.75 inches of rain. I feet like a new woman, and my Oregon blood rejoices in my veins.

Dear Pasadena Parking Police: This means war (of peaceable nature, of course)

2007-09-10T14:31:00.000-07:00

Today I got yet another parking ticket. This is my third in two weeks, and at $36 a pop, you can imagine I am not a happy camper(or rather, urban dweller). The first ticket was fair, and I will cheerfully pay it, as it was due to a momentary carelessness in not thoroughly reading the parking sign. The second was not exactly unjust, but certainly illogical and extremely frustrating. The third? Completely ridiculous.

This morning, I parked at about 4:50 a.m. around the corner of the store(in the 4 hour parking) to avoid getting a ticket like I had the previous Friday when it was parked in the 2 hour parking in front of the store. A parking cop came up to us at 5:25 a.m. and asked if our cars were in the front of the store. I told him mine was around the corner. "Is it a green Mazda?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I already ticketed it," he said. "There is no overnight parking in Pasadena from 1 a.m. to 6 a.m."
"I didn't overnight park," I said. "I just parked it a half an hour ago. Can you take the ticket back?"
" It's already in the computer, I can't take it back. There is no overnight parking".
"Ummm.... Officer.....Garcia, is it? Once again, I was not overnight parking. I just got here. Where do you suggest we park? We just got tickets for parking here on Friday, so that 's why I parked around the corner. Do you see that this is a little unfair for those people who work early in the morning?"
"I'm sorry, I can see that, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"Can I speak to someone concerning this?"

I now have in my possession the name and number of the head of Pasadena's parking police. I realize the normal thing you are supposed to do is send in a written letter contesting your ticket(with the check), but I personally think it is a much better option to meet this guy face to face and have a real heart-to-heart.

The passing of the baton, the changing of the guard: An ode to Shamarack

2007-09-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Well, the time has come to officially say goodbye to Shamarack. She has still been in my possession the last couple of months, as her services have been needed by several car-less friends. However, it is now time for her to move on to her new home. Although bittersweet as this moment is, I am happy to report that the couple with whom she is going are fine people, and they will treat her with the respect and finesse on which she thrives. To those who are wondering-the conditions of the transfer are as follows: They will keep her name as Shamarack, and they will not remove the "Don't hassle me, I'm local" sticker. So, on this momentous occasion, I wish to submit an ode to Shamarack, in honor of her service to me over the last 10 years.

Over hill and dale
snow and hail
you have driven me.

Through the tundra and rock
the dirt and the car lot
you have taken me.

You sheltered me in your comfy(although somewhat awkward) embrace
and put a smile on my pasty face
that night when I could not drive straight through to Oregon

You filled yourself to the brim
and made my eyes swim
with my stuff during the many times I've moved

You never failed me in the snowy mountains
(except for that one 360 you did on the way back from Yosemite)
You never failed me on the road
(except when you died suddenly on the L.A. freeway going 70 mph)

Your legends will be told
your stories will be sold
and thus your exciting adventures will live on.

A cut above the common yocal
and everywhere you are local
Oh Shamarack, you are a car for queens.

Head in the Clouds.....again

2007-08-29T19:53:00.001-07:00

Well, it's been awhile since I"ve blogged...mainly because (a) it's been so hot down here that I can hardly think, and (b) I need all that thinking for the papers due shortly since I have been neglecting them all summer. But, in keeping with tradition of my faux pas during stressful school times, I had to relate my most recent.

I was working early the other morning, partnered with one of co-workers who was up on a ladder, stocking, while I handed products up to him. We were joking around, engaging in mindless conversation, when I quipped, "Well, I used to be able to do a mean Richard Pryor imitation". Much to my chagrin and embarrassment, I realized that my co-worker was half-black, and would likely think I was an idiot for claiming I, a suburban white girl, could imitate Richard Pryor. My co-worker started laughing so hard that he almost fell off the ladder. When he could finally talk, he said, "Well, if I ever hear of a Richard Pryor competition, I can pretty much guarantee that you'd be the only white girl there trying to imitate him!"

One of these days I'm going to learn to filter my brain better when I'm over-tired.

Tea and Scahnes

2007-08-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

My Old Testament professor invited the class over to his apartment for tea and scahnes. You may be wondering what a scahne is...here in the U.S. we actually call them scones. My professor is charmingly British and would not allow us to drink out of anything other than a cup and saucer; in fact, we even attempted the British manner of holding the scahne plate and the cup and saucer in one hand.

I find myself quite amazed by this professor. He is jolly, lighthearted, and full of an incredible zest for life. During class, his dry British humor is accompanied by a twinkling eye that communicates such merriness that you find it impossible not to laugh both at his joke and his manner of delivery. He is the only professor I know that comes to class wearing bright purple shorts, bare feet, and some kind of t-shirt of a music group(on Wednesday it was Eric Clapton ). One night in class, someone's cell phone went off, and he began dancing a jig(I say jig because there is really no other appropriate word for what he was doing).

And yet, this is only part of the reason for which I am amazed. My professor has been married for many years, and about 20 years ago his wife was diagnosed with MS. Now, she cannot speak, cannot eat, nor do anything for herself. When we were over at the apartment, she sat in an immobile state in a recliner. Although I am enjoying the class immensely, I wonder if I am learning more from just watching the life of this professor- a life that is exhibiting a faithfulness of love, a life that retains much joy and hope amidst the sadness. This is a life that is clearly being lived to the fullest every day, and yet pointing towards something not yet seen in the future.

The post that needs no title

2007-07-30T21:36:00.000-07:00

Meet my mom's dog, Lacey. I captured her in a rare moment when she was changing into her other identity: Super-Fluffy (In Latin this would be
superius-caninius-fluffutopia).

Snapshots of Oregon: A glimpse of my dad's creativity

2007-07-26T15:39:00.000-07:00

When I go home to Oregon, the profound dryness of Southern California is most strikingly apparent to me in my first glimpse of my dad's backyard. Trees of numerous variety burst with their fruit: peaches, pears, apples, plums, blueberries, raspberries,and grapes. Healthy plants set in neat rows promise future vegetables such as broccoli, beets, lettuce, tomatoes,kale, and squash. Because of the abundance of domestic and exotic flowers, butterflies float throughout the yard, and birds occasionally visit the feeders. The pond is framed with luscious ferns and moss, and orange koi will bob up for a few pellets of food. My dad has also set up a tadpole habitat...a small tank of pond water is covered with another container hosting a microcosm environment. That way, after the tadpoles begin to grow legs, they can transition right into a "shore" environment. After they are full grown he transfers them to the pond. Why is he cultivating frogs? He likes the sounds they make in the pond at night. If anybody is passing through Oregon, I would strongly suggest stopping by to experience a little sampling of the Garden of Eden.

P.S. The pictures definitely do not do it justice.

P.P.S. Part of that may be the fact that I do not seem to be gifted photographically. How is one supposed to use lighting to one's advantage?

The Sentence

2007-07-21T15:50:00.000-07:00

I start a new class on Monday…Hebrew Prophets. I am really looking forward to be challenged in this area of Scripture and broadening my understanding of God’s redemptive work in ancient Israel. Sometimes, however, in my humble, non-scholarly opinion, the “extra-curricular” reading gets a bit too ridiculous in its “Bible scholarliness”. Here is an example of a reading I was doing in a Bible Dictionary (as preparation for the class) under the heading “Deuteronomistic History”:

“In the mind of the present author, the current state of confusion in Deuteronomistic studies ultimately is the result of an overly optimistic opinion of how much redactional activity might be isolated within a finished piece, augmented by the atomistic tendencies that seem to be inherent to the critical methodologies of OT exegesis”.

Whew, that was exhausting just writing that! Now, I know that most of you might think this sentence would be easier to understand if you had read it in its context. But let me assure you that reading it in its context made no difference in my comprehension. In other words, I still have no idea what this sentence is really trying to say. I have decided, in situations like this, that there are certain ways in which I will not respond, such as: a). Believing I missed that particularly vocab lesson in grade school and therefore am a bit “behind”
b). Thinking that I should really look up all the words I don’t know and try to figure out the meaning so that I can feel smarter c). Scoff at this scholarly language by jeering, “Yeah, well I bet this guy has never climbed a mountain

Instead, I believe a happy compromise is to say, “Well, I don’t really think this particular sentence is going to help me study the Bible any better, so I will just leave it and move on”.

P.S. For those of you who now are worried that I may emerge from seminary a dry husk of a human being, let me assure you that sentences such as these are definitely the minority…. most of the reading is very interesting and informative.

P.P.S Thanks for letting me externally process.

The Tale of the Amazing Bird Rescue

2007-07-12T09:58:00.001-07:00

The other day my friend and I were gathered with a bunch of people playing a game of ultimate frisbee at a park. All of a sudden, we noticed a loud commotion by a tall lightpost. A crowd (mostly kids) was gathering around this lightpost(about 12 feet tall) because a bird was tangled up in string wrapped around the top of the lightpost and was frantically fluttering around.

To me, it seemed a lost cause...how would we help the bird? However, one guy in the crowd thought differently. With apparent ease, he shimmied up the smooth lightpost like someone would a coconut tree, and reach out for the bird, cutting the string off the pole. When he slid down, he could only do so with one arm, because the other one was carefully cradling the bird. Once he was down, I went over to look at the bird. The string was actually a plastic thread off a tarp, and it had tightly wound the bird's leg and neck together. The man painstakingly snipped each little offending string from around the bird's neck until it was free. Then, as all the children of the park collectively held their breath, he released the bird, and everyone cheered as it soared away.

Now, I know some women are impressed by a man's flashy car, power, wealth, or his ability to surf well, but I have to admit, this was one of the most impressive feats I have ever seen! I was so in awe, that had that man turned to me, fallen on one knee, and said, "I know this is kind of sudden but shall we tie the knot right now?", I may well have been sufficiently star-struck to have said yes.

I mean, if you guys could have seen this pole and how he got up it! Where is the video camera when you need it?

Mt. Rainier

2007-06-29T17:43:00.001-07:00

If one climbs mountains solely for the purpose of reaching the summit, one constantly chases an elusive and ever-diminishing satisfaction. Now, one could argue that I am only saying this because I did not reach the summit of Mt. Rainier...in fact, I only reached 12,500 feet.
I will not argue that the mountain's summit is the crown on a challenging and beautiful climb; however, it is the whole experience that is so addicting for me. Perhaps it is remembering a proper sense of perspective as our tiny bodies clamber up the side of a vast mountain. Perhaps it is regaining a sense of the wildness, majesty, and beauty of God. Perhaps it is the cleansing experience of pushing one's physical and mental limits, and emerging on the other side with a sense of amazement and accomplishment. Perhaps it is the comradeship of good friends facing such an obstacle together. All of these factors help explain, but cannot completely define why some are driven to climb mountains. Perhaps some factors remain obscurely on the edge of logic!

We turned back because one member of our party became altitude sick and was mentally done with the climb. As we descended back to base camp, a storm picked up and eventually covered us with 7,8 inches of fresh snow. Life becomes very interesting when you are trapped in a tent in the midst of a white out blizzard for 12 hours! Nonetheless, Rainier is a vast, awe-inspiring mountain, and I do not regret my attempt, but look forward to returning someday!

The Scent of Freedom

2007-06-12T15:34:00.000-07:00

What does freedom smell like? It kind of smells like the wilderness! Here are some ladies and I celebrating the aftermath of finals. Rest and relaxation for an entire week! Whew!

My current state of mind

2007-06-07T08:08:00.001-07:00

I won't lie...I am very stressed right now because of my 20 page paper due tomorrow at 5p.m. It is not really going well at this point; in fact, the only reason I am taking time to write this blog right now is that I need to get my writing juices flowing. My current disheveled, chaotic state of mind is illustrated in a little episode that happened to me yesterday at work.

After spending all day in the library, I drove over to work, and changed in my car. Walking the few blocks to work, I felt confused at how strange my jeans were feeling. "What is going on?" I thought. "Did I gain a lot of weight? Are these really my jeans?" Because I had been a hermit all week buried in the deep recesses of the cave-like library basement, my brain felt cobwebby and disoriented.

I entered the store and went straight up to the restroom. To my shock and amazement, inside the back of my pants, I found a plastic wheat thins package.... the plastic part in the box that holds all the wheat thins. I guess when I changed in my car somehow it got inside my pants. Thankfully, all that was in it was wheat thin crumbs, or I guess I would have heard some crunching when I was walking.

I'll let you guess how my night unfolded from there!

President David Palmer

2007-05-31T13:23:00.000-07:00

You might be interested to know that I am now friends with this man. For those of you who don't know, he was President Palmer on the T.V. drama 24, as well as being a movie star.

Friends, you say? Well, that might be a bit of a stretch, but we could be on our way. Yesterday, on a dinner break from work, I popped into a convienence store in Pasadena. All of a sudden, as I was paying for my coffee, I heard a deep, resonant voice behind me, which I recognized immediately. I turned around to confront President Palmer who looked exactly as he does on t.v., except that he was wearing sunglasses. I had a strange out-of-body experience at this moment. Most likely it was because I was tired and stressed, but nonetheless, I wasn't sure if I had metaphysically appeared on an episode of 24 or not. My head started swirling and I took a step backward before I said to myself firmly, "Get yourself together, Mel".

I collected my coffee and then went to sit at a table by the door. President Palmer began to walk out the door, and briefly looked at me. I gave him a big smile and nodded slightly at him. He returned the smile(not quite as big) and gave me a head nod of his own.

My interpretation of this non-verbal exchange? I was saying to him, "I know who you are, I admire your acting, and I wish you were really president, but I'm not going to make a big deal of your stardom." I believe he was saying back to me: "Thank you for your acknowledgement...I know that you know who I am...let's just keep it between us, shall we?"

Of course, he could have also been thinking, "Woman with goofy grin is staring at me...give her cursory smile and nod, and quickly leave."

I prefer my version, of course.

Amazing bit of historical trivia!

2007-05-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

This following prophetic word regarding Africa is extremely poignant in light of the explosion of Christianity there in the last decade. As Christianity in the Western nations(American, Canada, Europe) has been gradually receding, this shift has compelled many to call Africa the new center of Christianity. This was a lecture given by African Wilmot Blyden in 1880.

"Africa may yet prove to be the spiritual conservatory of the world....so it may be, when the civilized nations, in consequence of their wonderful material development, have had their spiritual perceptions darkened and their spiritual susceptibilities blunted through the agency of a capturing and absorbing materialism, it may be, that they may have to resort to Africa to recover some of the simple elements of faith; for the promise of that land is that 'she shall stetch forth her hands unto God'(Psalm 68:31)".

Let me just reiterate that this lecture was given in 1880! What depth of insight this man had regarding the potential eroding capabilities of materialism!

Just another day in Seminary

2007-05-02T23:56:00.000-07:00

I spent an hour today trying to convince a man that I was not going to be his wife, and in fact had no interest in dating him, and furthermore, did not believe that God was telling me anything to the contrary. "An hour?", you ask, "that's a long time to turn down a proposal!" Well, although the conversation was tiresome, it was just ludicrous enough to keep me from walking away. The arguments that he was using to convince me to give him a chance were borderline ridiculous.

Now, you might be saying to yourself: "This was it, Mel! This was your big chance to tie the knot! What were you thinking?" Well, before you get too judgemental, this was only my fourth conversation with him, so things really felt a bit rushed to me. He felt perfectly comfortable with rapidly moving ahead with the relationship considering we were both believers as well as being male and female respectively, but I felt there must be some other criteria. He did not share this point of view and expressed agitation at my continued statement of "I don't know you, you don't know me".

"You know my name, you know I live close to here, and you know I am a believer!" he retorted.

"As the Latin American proverb says: One sparrow does not make spring!" I quoted back.

Okay, so I didn't really say that back, but maybe I would have if I could think that fast on my feet.

Mom comes to Monrovia

2007-04-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

My mom loves me + my mom loves coffee = My new coffee maker!!!!!

She's a beaut, isn't she? She's got a shine like a piece of polished granite under the Sierra sun!

My mother's words as we left the store today: "God restores that which was taken by the locusts." I'll leave you to ponder the meaning of these words.

Korean Night

2007-04-22T09:19:00.000-07:00

I pray with these women on Monday nights. Here you see us having "Korean night". Eunsun, from South Korea, prepared a typical Korean meal for us(which was quite unique to my taste buds but delicious). We also watched a documentary on North Korea which was quite sobering and somewhat shocking.

Feeling Chilly in the Fire Tunnel

2007-04-16T16:34:00.000-07:00

I went through my first fire tunnel last night. "Fire Tunnel?" you ask. Was this some kind of rite-of-passage deep within the Amazonian jungle? No, my friends, it took place at a local charismatic church and it involved two lines of pastors facing each other(kind of like a soccer tunnel) whom would pray and bless those going through the tunnel.

I attended the tail end of a conference at the church because I wanted to hear Heidi Baker speak, a lady who has an amazing ministry in Mozambique and is a hero of mine. I had been planning on leaving after her message as I knew that sometimes these kinds of services can stretch on indefinitely, but as the build up for the "fire-tunnel" increased after her moving message, I decided to stick around and experience it.

After waiting in line for an hour and a half, I found my heart pumping as I approached the stage. People would step into the tunnel and collapse; some were dragged off to the side and others would be handed through the tunnel on wobbly legs. The woman behind me said, "Get ready for the wildest ride of your life."

"Good grief," I thought to myself. "What's going to happen to me? Am I truly going to collapse in the spirit like I've seen so many other people do in the past?" I stepped into it, only to have a man grab my shoulders and breathe into my face. He handed me off to a woman who grabbed my stomach(thank goodness this was not the man) and started chanting "Fire in the belly, fire in the belly". I kept walking through the tunnel, nervously smiling at the men and women that would grab me, rub my head, say a blessing over me, and call for "more joy" for me. The recovering people- pleaser part me of me wanted to do something, but I just kept walking. It ended with a man forcefully embracing me, swaying me back and forth, and praying
something over me. I hurriedly went down the stage stairs, pushed my way through the dancing and rejoicing people, and fled the building, fearing that the woman was going to ask me about my experience.

The long and short of it...I felt absolutely nothing. I was a little disappointed, to tell you the truth. Do I think the whole thing was a farce? No, I think like most things, some people were having a genuine experience while others were faking it. The whole experience bears a little more personal reflection. If anyone has ever seen or experienced a fire tunnel, or has other opinions, I welcome your comments.

A woman's attempt to satisfy her wilderness longings in an urban context; or, Camping in L.A.

2007-04-14T15:58:00.000-07:00

Spontaneously last Friday night, a couple of women invited me to hike up a small hill in Pasadena and camp out for the night. "Oh, I didn't know you could camp up there, " I said. They informed me that there were no signs explicity saying that one could not camp there. So, we set off Friday night about 7 p.m. The night was heavy with a damp mistiness that gave the whole experience a ghostly feel, and I could imagine that I was in another place(except for the wide expanse of flickering LA. lights below, but that's beside the point)

The evening was wonderful...I made us hot chocolate, and we snacked on wheat thins and cheese. Unfortunately, after we went to bed, things went downhill. First, being so close to the city, I was a bit uneasy about the possible presence of a "midnight marauder". I knew that Nattie would alert me, but when I heard the footsteps in the bushes a few meters from my head, that thought did not give me much comfort. I threw myself out of my bag and stayed semi-crouched, all senses on alert(the other girls were cozily snoring in the tent at this point). Finally, I determined that the movement was not a human, or even a cougar(stories of terrorizing cougars in L.A. were echoing in my head), so I crawled back in my bag. The next few hours were a blurry attempt of trying to forget about the constant rustling that continued to move around the periphery of the camp.

Morning came all too soon when the first runner of the day huffed by on the trail at 6:30 a.m. Shortly thereafter, the steady trickle of people(who are these people that hike so early on a Saturday morning?) converged into a loud and boisterous gathering at the picnic table next to ours. We all got up at about 6:50 and shook our heads resignedly. I mean, there were other picninc tables out there(of course, we technically probably weren't supposed to be camping, but let's not make a mountain out of a molehill!).

We asked one of the men if there was a special occasion going on. "No, "he replied quite cheerfully. "We're just getting together!" Getting together? Before 7 a.m. in the morning 2.5 miles up a mountain?(mountain in L.A. terms). Highly suspicious if you ask me. Ahhhh, well, we curbed our sorrows at a little breakfast nook on the way back home. Such is the camping life in L.A.!!

Quotes

2007-03-28T21:19:00.000-07:00

"Already Africa is God's. God did not wait for me to bring Him. I found Him in every village." David Livingstone, 1857.

Could not the same be said for every corner of the world, from every mansion to tiny hovel, from the jungles to the alpine, from the poor to the rich? "The earth is the Lords and all it contains: The world, and those who dwell in it"(Psalm 24:1). How astonishing it is that God allows us to participate in the expansion of His kingdom!

"We can add nothing to the Gospel, for this is an eternal gift of God; but Christianity is always a beggar seeking food and drink, cover and shelter from the cultures it encounters in its never-ending journeys and wanderings"(John Mbiti).

The Fields are Green

2007-03-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

The drive from Fresno to Oakhurst is a hair's breath away from its prime green condition. I felt supremely happy driving up, drinking in the lupine-sprinkled fields, and knowing that I was soon to be in a place where the sense of knowing and being known is deeply refreshing. Today Ginger, Nattie, and I head out in search of snow. Whether we find it or not is irrelevant. It is enough just to be in the stillness of the Sierra. Ahhhhhh....Spring break 2007!!!!

I've Been Robbed!

2007-03-14T21:54:00.000-07:00

Ironically enough, my roommate and I were robbed on the same day, both on Fuller campus. Her wallet was stolen from the library when she left it for just a few minutes, and within the hour they were racking up $1000 at Best Buy and Target.

My story is less traumatic, as it does not involve my wallet, but it holds quite a bit of irony with a pinch of Murphy's Law, so I will share it. The month before, my wonderful Starbucks coffee pot broke, and I was sad until I realized that there was a voluntary recall on it because it had started a few fires. "Ah Ha!" thought I. "This indeed is good news. I'll send the coffee pot into Starbucks, get a check PLUS a free pound of coffee. My coffee fortune was looking up. Well, the check finally came in the other day, and I stopped in at Mervyns because there were having a Grand Opening Sale. I came out proudly carrying a brand new coffee pot that included a Stainless Carafe plus two travel mugs. I was positively smug at the fact that I had gotten 55% off of my prize after the rigmarole of applying for a Mervyn's card. So, I popped it in my car and drove to school.

Well, I'm sure you can guess the end of the story. I actually didn't realize it was gone until I got home. I came in, ate my dinner, and thought, "Oh, I want to take a look at my brand new shiny coffee maker!" At first, seeing my empty car, I thought I was merely dreaming the whole Mervyn's episode up. That is, until I noticed the receipts still nicely stacked on the seat where the coffee pot used to be. To make matters more certain that someone had indeed been in my car, I noticed my CD player was gone.

The fascinating thing is, the thief had re-locked my car after getting in. There was no scratches on the locks, so this person was no novice. My theory is that there was a pair of them working campus that day...but what are the chances that both my roommate and I got targeted? Little do they know I've read a lot of mystery detective novels.

The moral of the story is...don't count your chickens before their hatched...or rather, don't brew your coffee before it's safely on your counter. I'm thankful I still have my French Press!

And for People's response.....

2007-03-14T13:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Ms. Wachsmuth,

Thank you for taking the time to share your opinion with PEOPLE. We
sincerely value your feedback and appreciate your thoughts.

As you know, PEOPLE is a national magazine which is read by millions of
people across America each week. The values and tastes of our readers
vary widely. What one reader finds offensive, another may well
embrace.
I understand that you found the bluefly.com advertisement offensive,
and
I apologize if you thought it was in poor taste. PEOPLE does its best
to accept advertising from reputable advertisers whose products are
lawfully sold in the U.S. We certainly have no intention of offending
any of our readers.

We value you as a reader and once again thank you for your feedback.

Sincerely,

Judy McKenna
PEOPLE
Customer Service Manager

Bluefly's Response

2007-03-11T21:55:00.000-07:00

I received an email from Bluefly regarding my friendly, yet critical email(if you have no idea what I'm talking about, please refer to two posts back). I thought I would share it with y'all:

Thank you for your e-mail regarding the images used in our ad. We
appreciate your taking the time to share your thoughts with us.

We certainly do not mean to portray the imagery that you suggest in
your critique. Our intent is to share a passionate love story fueled by
fashion -- we live, we love, we shop (and not always in that order!).

Thank you for your interest in Bluefly.

Sincerely,
Elizabeth
Bluefly Customer Service

Can somebody please explain to me what they mean by a passionate love story fueled by fashion? And is the only possible description of a passionate love story a naked woman's body?

Update on the ad

2007-03-10T13:41:00.000-08:00

If you read my previous post, saw the advertisment in People, and feel equally outraged, I urge you to send a quick email message both to Bluefly(the originator of the ad) on their website(Bluefly.com) and to People magazine at editor@people.com to let them know that you are unhappy with their method of advertising. I was inspired by my friend Jamie Barker to realize that if no one ever says anything to these companies about their marketing techniques...why should they be motivated to change? It only takes about three minutes....

Spittin' Mad at People Magazine

2007-03-09T13:03:00.000-08:00

I was waiting in line at the grocery store and idly picked up the new People magazine with Reese Witherspoon on the cover(come on, we all look through the cheezy magazines in line). I flipped open to a full page ad with the caption "Nothing to Wear to Work". Taking up the whole page was a completely nude woman holding a purse, standing slightly to the side so at least some things were not exposed. I felt a surge of anger course through my German veins...when did this become standard fare for magazines? How can they get away with such a picture? I feel like starting a petition against People magazine. Maybe I am overreacting, but I am so exposed to the objectifiction of women down here that I kind of max out on the whole thing. Anyone who reads this...check it out and tell me if it makes you angry or if you just want to say: "Get over it, Mel".

Quote of the Day

2007-03-06T11:34:00.000-08:00

"When a person grows aware of a new way in which to serve God, he/she should carry it with him/her secretly, and without uttering it, for nine months, as though he/she were pregnant with it, and let others know of it only at the end of that time, as though it were a birth."

Martin Buber, Jewish mystic of the early twentieth century

Restraining Lawlessness

2007-03-01T13:16:00.000-08:00

My favorite professor for the quarter gave yet another inspiring speech in my Culture and Transformation class based on 2 Thessalonians 2. Paul talks about the "mystery of lawlessness" already at work, and a "he who restrains it". My professor was talking about the lawlessness prevalent in structural corruption...evident in the slave trade William Wilberforce was working against, evident today in the fight for oil resulting in oppression and poverty across Chad, Nigeria, and other places. He encouraged us to be part of the "restraint of lawlessness" ...to stand against the structures and institutions that breed widespread suffering and corruption. As Paul says: "Stand firm!" I really think everyone needs to sit through one of this man's classes!

Concentric Circles of Community (or, Why living the urban lifestyle is so weird)

2007-02-19T19:42:00.000-08:00

I think I figured out why I feel so much more fragmented in community down here as opposed to up in the mountains. Up north, I could have lunch with Jamie and Debbie in Fresno, who incidentally, are in a prayer group with the Cosbys up at Calvin Crest, and, by golly, one of them used to work at Summit, some of whom attend Sierra Vista Presbyterian Church. In other words, everyone, although perhaps not directly in each others small circles, have interlocking circles of community so that everyone is somehow connected. Down here, when I go to the local coffee shop, the lady who owns it has no idea if I am a Vons shopper or a Raileys shopper. My checkout person at Vons has no idea that I am going to watch Lost with a Fuller intentional community in Pasadena, and that community has no idea who the small group of woman are whom I meet with to pray on Monday mornings. I feel that I am an isolated individual moving from community to community with no connecting circles. Although this is a very strange experience, it helps me to understand how people can feel so anonymous in the urban context. No wonder we in the West are so individualistic! Of course, maybe I have been drinking too much coffee and this is just one of my caffeine hallucinations. Entirely possible.

Friends

2007-01-14T12:52:00.000-08:00

I am currently enjoying my weekend with good ol' Summit friends. Marina is in from New Zealand, Jackie just flew in from Canada, and Corinna and Kelli drove down from Oakhurst. We have been up until 2 or 3 a.m. every morning, and all morning long we sit leisurely around coffee. God gives unexpected gifts sometimes!

New Quarter, new beginnings

2007-01-04T13:07:00.000-08:00

My new quarter started yesterday. I think the theme of this quarter is going to be the study of Globalization, Islam, and how the Church responds to these forces. I am quite excited to study these things. My class entitled "Current Trends in Islam" is being co-taught by a Lebanese man and another man who pastored a church in Afghanistan until the Taliban kicked him out, and then pastored a church in Saudi Arabia for many years.

Yesterday, in my Church in Mission class, I learned that in the UK, only 1 percent of 18-30 year olds are going to church and that many large denominations have predicted the year of their extinction, based on their age and declining congregations. Some Christians over there believe that God is allowing this crumbling of the Church, as He has in other periods of history, but will bring forth something new in the UK sometime in the future. We know and believe that even if the church looks like it has disappeared from somewhere for awhile, God is awaiting His time to create a fresh expression of the Church. China is an excellent example of this.

This is all very interesting, but my dog is begging for some attention, so I must take her hiking!

Last Chick's update

2006-12-12T11:11:00.000-08:00

I realized I never revealed the results of our final Chicks game. Yes, we only played one game, but it was a great game. We came out intense,aggressive, and focused, and blew the other team out of the water scoring two touchdowns in about seven minutes. So, we finished the first half in the lead by one touchdown, and I think all of us were a little shocked. The first part of the second half, however, is where we lost the game. Our quarterback threw a heartbreaking interception that turned into a touchdown, and with that momentum, the other team scored another quick one. We reorganized and refocused, and came back the last seven minutes to play hard again, but it was too late. The last play of the game was so beautiful that it almost brought tears to our eyes. It was a hook and ladder, so our quarterback through a quick pass to our wide receiver. The other team quickly pulled her flags, but not before she had tossed the ball to our running back who was barreling up the sidelines. The whistle blew to end the game with our running back literally within two steps of the touchdown line. This touchdown would have put the final score 30-26. Pulling off that play, however, still felt like a glorious finish. Although we did not advance to the next round, all of us felt that we had accomplished something over the course of the season. Most of us had learned a new sport and learned how to work as a team in a couple of months. A bunch of us lingered after the game, reluctant to end a fun and rewarding season.

So, the Chicks have disbanded, but there is already talk of playing next year!

Fundamentalism...my current nemesis

2006-12-07T17:39:00.000-08:00

Fundamentalism is the thorn in my side right now...not because I am battling them personally, but because my paper on Fundamentalism and Modernism will not become coherent. I have labored over this for countless hours in the last few days(amidst two other papers). As my sanity is slowly draining out like my computer battery, I rue the day I chose this topic. I go to sleep with raging religious battles from history playing in my head and have nightmares of my professor grinning madly and grading my paper with a red pen the size of a thigh bone. As I exist in a semi-dreamlike state, my beacon of light right now is the fact that in 23 hours, the chips are down(whatever that phrase means...I just felt like using it), the last card is played, the final runner crosses the finish line, and my papers will be turned in. Carpe Coffee.

Tomorrow....

2006-12-01T11:49:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the Flag Football Finals Tournament. The Chicks are the underdogs(or under-poultry?), but the bottom line is....Anything can happen on Tourney day. We play until we lose. Last night, after our last practice(in which we learned four new trick plays), we got together for a pasta feed and I showed some inspirational clips from Hoosiers and Rudy. And yes, I am still working on all my final papers for the quarter in the midst of all this football excitement!

Perspiring in Class

2006-11-16T22:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's class with my African professor was extremely anxiety producing. He was lecturing on the effects of Communism and the Cold War on Evangelicalism, and linked the response with how certain Fundamentalists are interpreting the politics of Israel today. We have a Messianic Jew in the class, and so Dr. Hanciles gave her an opportunity to share her perspective on the American Church and the Jews in Israel. The next 20 minutes evolved into an ever increasing state of discomfort for everyone in the class. She is a very passionate person, and her speech and body motions became more and more volatile as she vehemently argued that the Church should be supporting Israel. Finally, Dr. Hanciles tried to interrupt her, but she would just increase her volume slightly. It was at this point that I started to sweat and look down at my desk. My appreciation for her passion turned to agony as Dr. Hanciles kept trying to say something, followed by another increase in volume. I contemplated running out of the room or screaming "Stop!" but neither seemed doable...in a word...I was frozen. It finally ended when she cried, "When they talk about annihilating Israel, they are talking about not just the Jews in Israel, but all of us! They are talking about me! They are after me!" I have no idea what this women's story is, but it certainly seems that she has had an intense life. As for the rest of us, several of us had to debrief the whole situation today. Whew!

Chicks Dig It!!!!

2006-11-11T14:12:00.000-08:00

I have some very exciting news to announce...news that I have been waiting many long weeks to share. The Chicks won their very first flag football game today! In other words, history was made(well, in our memories, anyway!). It was an extremely exciting and intense game..tensions were rising high on both sides. There were a couple of controversial calls that did not help matters, but my team played hard and well, and I believe we fairly deserved to win. In the last 20 seconds of the game, we were up by four, and the other team had the ball close to their end zone. Somehow, I caught an interception and started running towards the other end of the field. I think I was in profound shock that I actually caught it, because I had been having trouble catching long passes the last few weeks. Unfortunately, one of the Chicks with a hot temper tackled the guy who had been vying for the ball with me and got carried off the field by our coach, so we lost all the yardage, not to mention it showed poor sportsmanship. Regardless, our first win feels really pretty swell. We only have one game left(we did not make play-offs, obviously). I will be very sad to end the season, just as we are gelling as a team.

Ummmm.....

2006-11-09T20:34:00.000-08:00

My friend told me about a very strange, disturbing, and kind of funny site. Check out www.datetosave.com at your own discretion. It is probably a PG to PG13 site. I can't figure out if it's a joke or not. My favorite part is the women's description of what it means to not be unequally yoked with unbelievers.

I miss...

2006-11-04T23:08:00.000-08:00

I miss the wilderness
I miss long days on the trail
I miss being around people who know what it's like to be cold at night and suffer under a heavy pack during the day
I miss people who understand why we do these things
I miss women who don't think it's strange
if I don't shave every day
I miss the cultural norms that I understand so well.
I miss the peculiar smell of Sierra granite in the summer
I miss the feeling of freedom
I miss the joy of instructing with a group
I miss the sense of community
around a specific mission
I miss the sound of the mountain chickadee
I even miss the Sierra late-August dust
I miss the feeling of near panic
when you are on a climb that feels slightly too challenging
I miss the feeling of being myself
and being understood.
I miss being high up in the alpine
with the snowy glory of the Sierra surrounding me.
I miss the sense of God's majesty
that I only understand when I'm out there.
But I think most of all,
I miss the community.

Does Jesus go to Jesus Camp?

2006-10-29T19:40:00.000-08:00

I just watched a documentary called "Jesus Camp". It's about a woman who started a charismatic camp for kids in one of the Dakotas(sorry, I can't remember which one!). The premise of the film is to expose the evangelical fundamentalist indoctrination of kids going on across the United States. This documentary disturbed me on many levels:

1. The documentary seemed to be somewhat sloppy in its presentation and editing, resulting in the people in the film appearing more kooky and irrational than they realistically probably are(because let's face it, whether you are a non-Christian or a Christian that runs from any association with fundamentalism, no one is going to give them the benefit of the doubt in a film like this!)

2. As the audience in the theater was laughing and ridiculing the devout woman, I cringed to realize they would probably do the same for me, were I to state forcefully what I believed.

3. Even though I related to some of what the woman said, she was a tad extremist for my comfort levels. Some highlights that made me squirm in my seat? Well, apparently global warming is a liberal agenda and there is nothing really wrong with our environment. Besides, we know that Jesus is coming back any time, so why do we care about the earth? Also, the reason for all the problems our nation is having with morality etc. is a result of removing prayer from the schools. One more? What really disturbed me is these passionate kids espousing an inextricably woven mission of both Christianity and nationalism. We could be in trouble, folks.

Yes, I would suggest seeing the film, but you may not want to wear your "I love Jesus" pin to the theater.

Last Saturday's Game

2006-10-26T09:15:00.000-07:00

Results of Last Saturday's Game:

A-Town Players - 54
Chicks- 39

As you can see, we lost, but it was an extremely competitive game and we were not too far behind. We are definitely getting better. We received some comments in this week's flag football power rankings:

Others Receiving Votes: A-TOWN PLAYERS, CHICKS (AFTER A NEARLY 100 POINT SHOOTOUT, THESE TEAMS WARRANT SOME CONSIDERATION)

Unfortunately, I don't really know what this means, but at least we were mentioned!

My personal game highlight: I scored a touchdown in the first play of the game by running the ball all the way up the field. It was an incredible feeling. I think I have more sympathy for Napolean's Uncle Ricco now, living in his football glory of the past.

Semi-presumption

2006-10-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

Last night, while driving home from school, I was broadsided by a gas semi-truck. It was quite shocking. I am completely unharmed, but Shamarack may never be the same. Let's just say the passanger door will never open again. My insurance agent said that if my car had been newer, it probably would have crumpled. But thankfully, Shamarack is well made, tough and even ripped half of the truck's bumper off. Even amidst the emotionally charged situation, the cops and I were very impressed with that. Things ended relatively well; the driver and I shook hands and wished each other well.

Ode to the Return of Summer

2006-10-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

These L.A.ers
are a crazy bunch
With 355 days of sun
they pine on those 10 days
when the clouds' soothing presence blankets the city.
"It's not smog," I say,
"Why the glum faces?"
"Will we ever see the sun again?" they moan.
"How long must the winter of our discontent last?"

Today they walk confidently
a joyous spring in their step
The world is their oyster
once more.
Today the heat of summer's sun
causes the sweat to ooze
down my face
my face turns red
my disposition crabby
as I realize
the delicious coolness
of the previous days
was not fall,
merely a commerical break
from summer.

So on this October 20
as I look ahead
to a hot Halloween
a blazing Thanksgiving
and a sweltering Christmas,
I once more
thank God
for air conditioning.

2006-10-16T16:34:00.001-07:00

The Mighty Chicks

2006-10-16T16:34:00.000-07:00

So I've had two football games thus far. Last Saturday's, albeit my out-of-control nervousness, went pretty well. We scored four touchdowns to the other teams' seven touch downs. Not bad for a bunch of Chicks(that's our team time...I know, kinda corny).

The game this past Saturday, however, was more competitive and serious. In fact, the quarterback was the guy who believes there should not be an all women's team, if you remember my previous blog entry regarding the patriarchal system. They are also rated #2 in the league right now and slated to win the championship. So, what happened? Well, if this were a Disney movie, I could say that despite all odds, our team rallied and put up a formidable fight, beating the champions by a hair's breadth in overtime, amidst the roaring of the crowds. Did that really happen? It did in my dream the night before. Actually, we pretty much got slaughtered although we did score two touchdowns and had one inspiring interception. My job on defense was to rush the famous quarterback and try to pull his flag before he threw it. I actually didn't find out until half- time that this was the quarterback who had such strong opinions regarding women and sports. All of a sudden, I felt the power of a thousand track stars in my legs. Lining up on the line, eye to eye with the QB, there was one raging thought in my head: "I must get that flag!" The whistle blew and I charged forward. Leaping and ducking, he danced away from me and I hurtled my body towards his flag. Unfortunately, I missed by a fraction of an inch and ended up face down in the mud(it rained that morning). More unfortunately than even this, my tumble caused my cleat sole to become unnailed(the shoe glue did not work so I had to resort to nailing my shoes).

Sorry my story is somewhat less than heroic and inspiring...however stay tuned next week, because our loyal male fans who have been following our progress tell us that we are improving! Go Chicks!