one year

my own memories surface today. getting the phone call . the flight there. seeing it on the front page of every newspaper i saw for days. the night we we went back into the hallway.....it feels like it was yesterday.

remember

i cannot sleep tonight. my mind races remembering this night last year.  i know so much more now than i did in the days that followed last year. phil and tiff will forever be heroes to me. they died saving a community of people that night. they died loving...phil and tiff...we will not forget. 

change

i have yet to sit down and document this week because it has been so filled with emotion that i have trouble grasping my words. Sunday was warm and beautiful. It was 78 and a cloudless sky when my sister and i got up groggy eyed and made our way down to the statehouse. As we arrived we saw it...the mass of humans that had converged upon the grounds of this regal white building. we had come to see the same thing as the rest of this sunday morning ... Barack Obama. We looked for the closest space we could to stand and watch. We ended up on the west side of the building standing in the shade of a monument to brave Ohioans who had fought in the civil war. The event started out with the local politicians warming the crowd up for the main event. Standing shoulder to shoulder I surveyed this sea of humanity. They were white, black, young, old, muslim, jewish, rich, poor, office workers, union men, and they were full of hope.  Standing there I heard the speech I imagine this man had given hundreds if not thousands of times before, but he still spoke with an earnest tone. I had heard much of the campaign talk already, but standing there on that bright autumn afternoon I knew we were on the edge of something great.

I had voted almost a month ago thanks to the early vote so as to not be stuck in what could amount to be a very long line. so, when tuesday came it felt like any other tuesday. I had to work that evening and was going to miss the beginning of the election coverage.  I assumed nothing would be official to very late if at all tuesday night. As the evening grew late and the polls closed I was receiving text after text of the states that were coming in.... all blue. By the time I was ready to close up shop the whole thing had been called ...He had won. 

You could hear the beeping horns and the yelling outside of the store, but it wasn't until I got home that night and turned on the tv did i really see it. When Obama delivered his acceptance speech something changed. An ease was in the air that hadn't been there before...that of real equality...that of hope for something better than the last few years. Wednesday I woke up to a different America. I woke up to the America that voted for hope over fear, and it poured into the streets. I woke up to a new country.

the waiting game

i played the waiting game for some time now. waiting for life to happen. waiting to grow out of this "stage". waiting for my life to start. waiting to take the next step, open the next door. i got pushed through that door earlier this year to find nothing but...you guessed it, another waiting room. now i am back to the waiting game. wait till christmas? wait till spring? i dont know...but i keep waiting. i wonder if all this waiting will always lead to more waiting?

i cannot...

think of the possibility of a mccain/palin presidency. watch the katie couric interview. it is still blowing my mind. heres a bit.

i spent a year of my life stumbling along

Kounellis in Sarajevo: artistic project in Vijećnica / National Library
Originally uploaded by .chourmo.

i realize sitting here today that i spent a good year of my life stumbling along. This sounds like a negative statement. its not. it was the most enlightening 365 days my heart has ever beat out.
one july afternoon i was out stumbling along the streets of sarajevo (which when left alone for too long, on my way to language class, or to the store i'd find myself always doing) when i wandered upon a grand piece of architecture i had viewed almost everyday from my apartment up the hill. the largest standing relic of the war on my side of town was this library; great and yellow and majestic. the national library stood above all of the minarets and red tile roofs for all of the old city to see. It was a hollow coffin of a building that had been fire bombed by the serbs some 10 years earlier. all of its magnificent windows had been boarded up and the bottom twenty feet of the building was all plastered with billboard advertisements for some eastern european brand shampoo or snack food or the random political banner. this hot afternoon i had taken a different route home from merkator (the cities most modern yet still very communist eighties grocery store/mall) and found myself standing in front of the regal ruins. This building has always caused great wonder for me, most of my curiosity centering around the question of "what must this place look like on the inside." Today i had just happened to glance up at the front door (looking more like a construction worker access than a grand entryway) when i noticed it was open. I decided to go in. when i got through the dusty foyer i noticed that it was some art exhibit in the octagonal shape vestibule. i paid the few marks to woman in the corner of the room and walked up to 12 foot doorways filled with books and rocks and sandbags. in the ruins of this hall of culture was an artist exclaiming "all is not dead here!". I stayed inside the library for another hour or so walking from doorway to doorway in awe at what my eyes beheld.
my stumblings have all been that to me. a suprise. a hidden wonder that seems to have been all but accidental,but a beauty held and awe-inspiring. 

post script: more of the library

an uncomfortable

today marks 7 years since a great tragedy. I am torn at times between anger at those who would use the attacks on the world trade center and the pentagon to fuel their own agenda for a "war on terror" and the desire to see justice served and a people protected against sucha an attack again. I have come to realization today  that i dont know would have happened 7 years ago. This realization is this..."the war against terror is bound up in the war against poverty". This is not a quote by Moveon.org, or Obama, or some hippie nut but a quote by General Colin Powell. Those responsible for the attacks seven years ago might have been wealthy Saudis but it was in collapsed poverty stricken Afghanistan they found success and sanctuary. Wouldn't it have been cheaper (and smarter) to make friends out of certain enemies than to defend yourself against them. I am coming to a realization that our best homeland security rests on the success of ending poverty in nations that we have all ability to do so in. The war on disease is a war on terrorism. Making AIDS, Malaria, and TB extinct in Africa will kill a fertile ground for terrorism. And it is doable. The plans are drawn up. We just arent convinced of it. This isnt on the news. This isnt in the papers. This isnt about oil or power its about valuing lives. We can be the generation of people who no longer accepts that an accident of lattitude determines whether a child lives or dies. Imagine if the money we spent on the war in Iraq  sent girls to school, began microenterprise loans, purified water, gave 20 cent innoculations, pardoned unpayable debt, taught AIDS prevention, fed villages, and taught responsible farming. Where would the terrorist camps be? Who would join them? I have come to the realization today that the destiny of the "haves" are intrinsically linked to the fates of the "have nothing at alls". we experience that seven years ago. Let us continue to learn from that today.

derailed

what do you do when you find the train you have been on is derailed. when you discover a detour along the path. when diversion is your path ahead. i procrastinate. i wait until the last moment. and when i finally pull the chord the parachute doesnt pop open. i still dont know if i have ever once known what are my plans and what are your plans. i still dont know if i hear you more than i hear myself. The only thing i know is that late or not I GOT ON THE TRAIN. It was a gamble...it would either make it to its destination or it wouldnt but that wasnt up to me. i took the step of faith. i did what i was responisble for. the rest is out of my hands.

thoughts

I wanted to write about Francesca today. About her death, and suicide, and how none of it makes sense and how painful it is for those left around and how death always seems to do that. But…I cant do it yet. So today I will talk about one of my favorite subjects…suburbia. The burbs and I have a love hate relationship. I recently moved home to my mother and new stepfathers house in preparation to leave again for the mission field. I moved from my quaint little one bedroom apartment in Grandview. I was an urban dweller. When I say my apartment was quaint I mean it was old, overpriced, and had little amenities. Moving home I remembered just how much I hated the suburbs, with their SUVs full of soccer moms on their way to republican rallies or the newest mega mall. Soon after settling in I realize there is a lot that I love about the burbs. Its those small details that I have come to an appreciation for. Air conditioning. I know this seems like a dumb thing but myself as well as all the friends’ apartments I frequent are lucky to have a single window unit to cool the entire space. This makes one quite used to a constant glaze of sweat on the forehead and uncomfortable moments in the middle of the night when you throw all the covers off yourself in what hot rage. It is one of the most calming feelings to walk into a clean white walled house set at a constant ambient temperature of 71 degrees. ….also grass. Well maintained, green endless spanses of grass. Im talking about the kind of grass that collects perfect little dew drops in the morning that you walk through to get the paper and curl your toes in. i love the smell of people cooking out and the smell of bonfires in backyards

death

yesterday i was thinking about hope today...death. i got a text at 530 this morning from michele. my phone was in my pocket and i could hear it but was at work. later i looked down, flipped the phone open to see this text... "i dont know if your working or not, call me. francesca commited suicide." my mouth dropped to the floor. i call michele immediatly to find out that she had hung herself in the middle of the night. her boyfriend john found her. her kids were at her parents. i cant begin to wrap my brain around this. or write any deep thoughts. my thoughts have left me

hope

there is hope.

hope that when i hang up my hats of work and duty and unnecessary responsibility i will see you.

hope that when i stand at the edge of the field and look back at the wheat blowing that i will feel the wind.

hope that the infant innocence still exists in me buried below layers of age

hope that my ears will be open to listen with gentleness and patience.

hope that my grip will loosen until my life is no longer mine.

hope that the beautiful will  bless with peace

and the ugly bestow compassion

and i will trust to walk tightrope without the comfort of a safety net.

reach out and touch faith

there is beauty in the garden. open up your eyes and see it. 

a letter to my father

dad,

so much time has passed since i last saw you, but at times it feels like time has stood still. so much has changed since that day we put up the christmas tree and laughed about all the little bald angels julie and i made for it as kids and how much our christmas' were like that chevy chase movie.  words cannot express how much i wish i could just sit and talk with you again...

thank you for the roses dad. you know that rose bush you planted in the front flower beds. it has grown enormous and every year on my birthday they bloom. i tell everyone that dad brought me roses for my birthday. julie, mom, and i cut some and brought them to your grave today. as i stood there i thought of you. .. of how my hands are exactly like yours ..how you used to wave to me from across the room. your good days...your sick days...the days before the sick ones. our trips to the ocean...the time you pulled me and the neighbor girl out of the snow between our yards. i get mad when i think of the fact that i will not have you walk me down the aisle, to hold my first born child, to watch me fully become an adult...but then i think ...i have had more of a dad for 21 years then many people i know will have in a lifetime. its what can be so painful sometimes but also a sense of joy. i know sometimes when i walk around ...or at least for once am aware of it, that you see me. if you see me tonight..know that i love you and am wishing you a happy fathers day.

just dont open the fridge

juice is my new "best friend".

the fast day one

i am planning on fasting for a week. ihavent fasted in years. my will power is almost non existent. i want to document this so i can get the most out of this and remember. i hope that this fast will bring me closer to the Lord. I feel like i have spiritually put in the earplugs and do not regularly hear the Lord. 

bomb the railways

Mr. President, Mrs. Clinton, members of Congress, Ambassador Holbrooke, Excellencies, friends: Fifty-four years ago to the day, a young Jewish boy from a small town in the Carpathian Mountains woke up, not far from Goethe's beloved Weimar, in a place of eternal infamy called Buchenwald. He was finally free, but there was no joy in his heart. He thought there never would be again.

Liberated a day earlier by American soldiers, he remembers their rage at what they saw. And even if he lives to be a very old man, he will always be grateful to them for that rage, and also for their compassion. Though he did not understand their language, their eyes told him what he needed to know -- that they, too, would remember, and bear witness.

And now, I stand before you, Mr. President -- Commander-in-Chief of the army that freed me, and tens of thousands of others -- and I am filled with a profound and abiding gratitude to the American people.

Gratitude is a word that I cherish. Gratitude is what defines the humanity of the human being. And I am grateful to you, Hillary -- or Mrs. Clinton -- for what you said, and for what you are doing for children in the world, for the homeless, for the victims of injustice, the victims of destiny and society. And I thank all of you for being here.

We are on the threshold of a new century, a new millennium. What will the legacy of this vanishing century be? How will it be remembered in the new millennium? Surely it will be judged, and judged severely, in both moral and metaphysical terms. These failures have cast a dark shadow over humanity: two World Wars, countless civil wars, the senseless chain of assassinations -- Gandhi, the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Sadat, Rabin -- bloodbaths in Cambodia and Nigeria, India and Pakistan, Ireland and Rwanda, Eritrea and Ethiopia, Sarajevo and Kosovo; the inhumanity in the gulag and the tragedy of Hiroshima. And, on a different level, of course, Auschwitz and Treblinka. So much violence, so much indifference.

What is indifference? Etymologically, the word means "no difference." A strange and unnatural state in which the lines blur between light and darkness, dusk and dawn, crime and punishment, cruelty and compassion, good and evil.

What are its courses and inescapable consequences? Is it a philosophy? Is there a philosophy of indifference conceivable? Can one possibly view indifference as a virtue? Is it necessary at times to practice it simply to keep one's sanity, live normally, enjoy a fine meal and a glass of wine, as the world around us experiences harrowing upheavals?

Of course, indifference can be tempting -- more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person's pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. Their hidden or even visible anguish is of no interest. Indifference reduces the other to an abstraction.

Over there, behind the black gates of Auschwitz, the most tragic of all prisoners were the "Muselmanner," as they were called. Wrapped in their torn blankets, they would sit or lie on the ground, staring vacantly into space, unaware of who or where they were, strangers to their surroundings. They no longer felt pain, hunger, thirst. They feared nothing. They felt nothing. They were dead and did not know it.

Rooted in our tradition, some of us felt that to be abandoned by humanity then was not the ultimate. We felt that to be abandoned by God was worse than to be punished by Him. Better an unjust God than an indifferent one. For us to be ignored by God was a harsher punishment than to be a victim of His anger. Man can live far from God -- not outside God. God is wherever we are. Even in suffering? Even in suffering.

In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony, one does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it. Indifference elicits no response. Indifference is not a response.

Indifference is not a beginning, it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. The political prisoner in his cell, the hungry children, the homeless refugees -- not to respond to their plight, not to relieve their solitude by offering them a spark of hope is to exile them from human memory. And in denying their humanity we betray our own.

Indifference, then, is not only a sin, it is a punishment. And this is one of the most important lessons of this outgoing century's wide-ranging experiments in good and evil.

In the place that I come from, society was composed of three simple categories: the killers, the victims, and the bystanders. During the darkest of times, inside the ghettoes and death camps -- and I'm glad that Mrs. Clinton mentioned that we are now commemorating that event, that period, that we are now in the Days of Remembrance -- but then, we felt abandoned, forgotten. All of us did.

And our only miserable consolation was that we believed that Auschwitz and Treblinka were closely guarded secrets; that the leaders of the free world did not know what was going on behind those black gates and barbed wire; that they had no knowledge of the war against the Jews that Hitler's armies and their accomplices waged as part of the war against the Allies.

If they knew, we thought, surely those leaders would have moved heaven and earth to intervene. They would have spoken out with great outrage and conviction. They would have bombed the railways leading to Birkenau, just the railways, just once.

And now we knew, we learned, we discovered that the Pentagon knew, the State Department knew. And the illustrious occupant of the White House then, who was a great leader -- and I say it with some anguish and pain, because, today is exactly 54 years marking his death -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt died on April the 12th, 1945, so he is very much present to me and to us.

No doubt, he was a great leader. He mobilized the American people and the world, going into battle, bringing hundreds and thousands of valiant and brave soldiers in America to fight fascism, to fight dictatorship, to fight Hitler. And so many of the young people fell in battle. And, nevertheless, his image in Jewish history -- I must say it -- his image in Jewish history is flawed.

The depressing tale of the St. Louis is a case in point. Sixty years ago, its human cargo -- maybe 1,000 Jews -- was turned back to Nazi Germany. And that happened after the Kristallnacht, after the first state sponsored pogrom, with hundreds of Jewish shops destroyed, synagogues burned, thousands of people put in concentration camps. And that ship, which was already on the shores of the United States, was sent back.

I don't understand. Roosevelt was a good man, with a heart. He understood those who needed help. Why didn't he allow these refugees to disembark? A thousand people -- in America, a great country, the greatest democracy, the most generous of all new nations in modern history. What happened? I don't understand. Why the indifference, on the highest level, to the suffering of the victims?

But then, there were human beings who were sensitive to our tragedy. Those non-Jews, those Christians, that we called the "Righteous Gentiles," whose selfless acts of heroism saved the honor of their faith. Why were they so few? Why was there a greater effort to save SS murderers after the war than to save their victims during the war?

Why did some of America's largest corporations continue to do business with Hitler's Germany until 1942? It has been suggested, and it was documented, that the Wehrmacht could not have conducted its invasion of France without oil obtained from American sources. How is one to explain their indifference?

And yet, my friends, good things have also happened in this traumatic century: the defeat of Nazism, the collapse of communism, the rebirth of Israel on its ancestral soil, the demise of apartheid, Israel's peace treaty with Egypt, the peace accord in Ireland. And let us remember the meeting, filled with drama and emotion, between Rabin and Arafat that you, Mr. President, convened in this very place. I was here and I will never forget it.

And then, of course, the joint decision of the United States and NATO to intervene in Kosovo and save those victims, those refugees, those who were uprooted by a man whom I believe that because of his crimes, should be charged with crimes against humanity. But this time, the world was not silent. This time, we do respond. This time, we intervene.

Does it mean that we have learned from the past? Does it mean that society has changed? Has the human being become less indifferent and more human? Have we really learned from our experiences? Are we less insensitive to the plight of victims of ethnic cleansing and other forms of injustices in places near and far? Is today's justified intervention in Kosovo, led by you, Mr. President, a lasting warning that never again will the deportation, the terrorization of children and their parents be allowed anywhere in the world? Will it discourage other dictators in other lands to do the same?

What about the children? Oh, we see them on television, we read about them in the papers, and we do so with a broken heart. Their fate is always the most tragic, inevitably. When adults wage war, children perish. We see their faces, their eyes. Do we hear their pleas? Do we feel their pain, their agony? Every minute one of them dies of disease, violence, famine. Some of them -- so many of them -- could be saved.

And so, once again, I think of the young Jewish boy from the Carpathian Mountains. He has accompanied the old man I have become throughout these years of quest and struggle. And together we walk towards the new millennium, carried by profound fear and extraordinary hope.

i always come up with baby names that i will forget one day when i have one

selah- stop and listen. other definitions: forever.

the move

i took one last look around. my last year and a half. i had made it on my own. it scared the hell out of me to do this alone and be sure that i could make it. but i did...i was broke more often than i had money but i did it. i was self sustaining. the chapter ends. flip the page and i find myself back in pickerington, in my old room, with my old view, in the house that was home for so many years. its changed but so have i. it is a stopping off point for me...the land between here and there. for a moment i feel like im 18 again, but i look in the mirror and see that almost eight years have passed through me. my face has aged. i am an adult. i have carried the weight of my twenties on my back and have come out wiser and sometimes stronger. i still have growing to do; bad habits to quit, responsibilities to better manage, maturity to acquire. i have come to realize that there is a lot of me that i will never grow out of. there were things i did at 18 i thought i did because i was young and it was a phase that i would eventually grow out of. i think there is a part of me that will always bear some of those youthful isms....and im ok with that. im not sure i ever fully want to be an adult. i may never have a five year plan. i may never opt for stability over adventure. i may never follow the course others find natural. i may never be professional enough, and im not sure thats such a bad thing. i am me and ive come to realize that i will never be "normal". i have also come to realize that i just dont give a shit. this is who i am. i will change because that what we do but i dont expect to ever look like what they think i should.

muxtape

muxtape

one of the most fun saturdays to date

hand rolled and warmed by the sun

true blue

pink is the new green

let the sun shine down on us all

all that glistens is in fact gold

tip top

beauty in the backyard

comfort and art

life is simply color and movement

the tides have changed

am i ready?

my future is beginning again

i told her. i was fairly unplanning in my way of doing it but she knows now. plans are being made and my future is beginning again. she called ron and he is buying my car. she called scott, the pastor i vividly remember saying dont come back here if you need support. he too has had a change of heart. joel and shanna have expressed their want to support. im stunned. its happening

awakened and shaken

two nights ago i was fast asleep after a late night with an early morning awaiting me. about 430 i felt it....my bed shaking. it was as if someone was sitting next to me shaking me awake. i woke up in groggy logic tried to figure out what was happening. i remember thinking in my mind...it must be an earthquake...not ever really experiencing one i dont know why this was my conclusion. in the morning i wrote this off to a wierd dream. i checked the local news to see if there was any word of an earthquake in ohio....i thought how strange...it seemed so real to me. tonight i discovered that there was an earthquake in illinois that could be felt here and that i was indeed feeling tremors. 

the good the bad and the ugly

this month has been the hardest i have seen in a very long time. i am flat broke, moving home, have been arrested, had my car repossesed and my gas shut off. i have hit hard times. through this i understand quite a bit of what the lord is doin in my life to allow me a way out. it is a wake up and a shove from the comfortable. it is a dependence and desperation. it is pain and humility. it is the hands of God....i am blessed to experience this. i am overjoyed to know this isnt the end. i have seen the good the bad and the ugly and trust the Lord through  it.

mlk and other thoughts

growing up martin luther king jr. meant really only one thing to me, an extra day off school. i grew up in a white american suburb that was upper middle class at its most modest stretch. i had one black friend in middle school and that was pretty much my extent of racial diversity. as i have grown older i have learned more of this man, of civil rights, of faith and fight so intertwined that speech and sermon became synonymous .  he put to feet what we only talk of. this man was an agent of more change in 39 years than others have in a lifetime.

spring morning

i am overjoyed to have today off. i woke up around 9:30 and from the double paned window next to my bed i could see how deep blue the sky was. after minutes of fighting off more sleep i roll out of bed and stumble around to get some clothes on... i hear my phone going off and it is michele telling me she too has the day off. i text her back to meet me at staufs, throw some clothes on, brush my teeth and im out the door. the morning sun is so intense and beautiful as i walk down the street to (one of) my favorite coffee spots. its wednesday morning and even blocks away i can smell the coffee roasting. as i walk i see others who too are enjoying the early morning light. bike messengers pass, glowing that their days work will be full of warmth. couples pass walking their dogs, who too seem to know that spring is finally here. as i round the turn i begin to notice a patch of violets that have bloomed and  tulips that are sprouting...as if this may have happened over night. the birds are also back. im not sure which ones actually but i can tell you they are the ones that sing on those mid summers afternoons when you sunbathe on a blanket in the park. they have come back from their warm winter vacation to let us know that all is not lost..spring will come again

arrested development

tuesday morning i was filling in a shift at the arena district starbucks. i had to be there at 530 so woke up early got everything together and actually left with more than enough time to get there. I pulled out of my street and on to northwest , where i notice a police officer behind me. i didnt think much about it but realized about two blocks up that i should probably get gas and decided to turn around and go back the other way to get gas. i turned into a driveway turned around and made a right on 3rd....all of a sudden i look up flashing blue red and white lights. All of a sudden i had a sudden panic. i reach for my insurance, license ect....the officer comes up to my window...asks if im lost to which i respond that i am on my way to work, show him my apron and  give him my information. in less than a minute or two the officer returns and says "mam do you realize you are driving on a suspended license?" all of a sudden my stomach drops. i was pulled over at the end of january , given a ticket, and kept thinking...im broke ill just pay the ticket later. As the officer asks me to step out of the car i realize i am in deep shit. I explain to the officer that i know i have a ticket and i just couldnt pay it... the cop then asks me "mam will you turn around and put you hands behind your back." then...the wateworks. i am cuffed and put into the back of the cop car. the officer informs me he is taking me to the grandview heights police station and that they are towing my car. He also tells me that i will need to post 250$ for my bail, and asks me if i know anyone in the area that can help me. I explain to him that i do not have the money and the only person i could call was my mom. He takes me to the station...half uncuffs me long enough to have me put my arms in front of me and then recuffs. the next hour is full of mugshots, finger printing and police reports. i call my mom and tell her (in tears) what has happened, call the manager of the store im filling in at and also fill her in. Then i wait. my mom was stuck in traffic and the officer was getting impatient.  he had me keep calling to see where she is. About 10 minutes before she gets there he informs me that if she doesnt show up before the shift change he is taking me down to franklin county jail house. She still isnt there after a few more minutes...he leaves the room and then reenters. he informs me that he is waiving the bail on my own reconiscence  and sends me into the lobby. My mom picks me up and i (still an emotional mess) head to work. 4 days 380$( towing, old ticket, reissuing the license)later i still havent seen a court date and have cuff marks to prove my nightmare....tuesday sucked .

tonight

tonight i saw a  friend i havent seen in almost a year. those friends i want to be like.  you know the ones....they are a step ahead of you as far as age bracket goes. but they are those people that inspire you that it gets better as you get older. it was great to see them. i miss them dearly. 

saturday musing

i woke up this morning quite late after a long night had drawn into the early morning and headed out for my morning ritual, pick a coffee shop and sit for a few hours, wake up, get on my computer and people watch. i was bored with the 6 coffee houses in my near walking distance and decided to hop in my car and go to the "cup o joe" in german village. instead of taking the most direct path i for some reason chose to drive straight through downtown. downtown is a ghost town on saturdays. when on any given week day you will find men in power suits, and women in tennis shoes and skirts walking to their skyscraper office,  saturdays and sundays you are lucky to even pass a soul. as i made it to broad and high i saw something interesting...protesters. maybe 30 or 40 tops holding signs and wearing guy forks masks. as i passed them i noticed on one side of the street police on horses standing in a row facing the crowd. i slowed down to make out what the signs said but couldnt quite get it, and continued driving.  as i continued driving i thought about what in my life am i passionate enough about to hold a sign out on a street on a grey rainy ohio day. I thought of those mounted police. i think of those with aids, those caught in human traffiking, those who are poor and hungry. often those that try to help look a lot like this....making noise and holding signs while people pass by and a force greater than them stands on the other side of the street.

the burden of the easy yoke

i could hear the church bells ringing
they pealed aloud your praise
the member's faces were smiling
with their hands outstretched to shake
it's true they did not move me
my heart was hard and tired
their perfect fire annoyed me
i could not find you anywhere
could someone please tell me the story
of sinners ransomed from the fall
i still have never seen you, and somedays
i don't love you at all

the devoted were wearing bracelets
to remind them why they came
some concrete motivation
when the abstract could not do the same
but if all that's left is duty, i'm falling on my sword
at least then, i would not serve an unseen distant lord

could someone please tell me the story
of sinners ransomed from the fall
i still have never seen you, and somedays
i don't love you at all
if this only a test
i hope that i'm passing, cuz i'm losing steam
but i still want to trust you

peace be still (x3)

the crossroads

why i am i so scared to tell them. why am i so scared to let them down. why is leaving such a hard thing for me to break to them. i know i wouldn't have had a chance to panel if they knew i was leaving in june. but mom, and julie, and the fam. its time to let everyone know. i am most afraid of becky. she has done so much to mentor me in my job. i dread sitting down and telling her that i am leaving. im afraid she will feel like i have been wasting her time and i knew it all along. i am more afraid that she will be disappointed than anyone else. it is this thing that has been chewing inside. i know i am supposed to go. the longer i wait the more of a rush i will be in to get support and just things ready. i never will feel ready for this but i wont allow my fear of the future keep me stagnant. i wish sometimes that i had more courage. Lord i pray that you will ease this. 

the echoes of a hall

the echoes of a hall

in that hall i could hear the echoes

the echoes of bullets and screams

the echoes of tears and fear

the echoes of two last breaths

in that hall our tears echoed

our voices hushed

our fears realized

in that hall i heard the echoes of my life

the echoes that brought me pain

and the echoes of courage squelched

in that hallway i heard the echoes of who i am

....................................................................

i knew standing there what i had to do. i felt like that hall. i had brought in a clean up crew and spackled the bullet holes. i had built new door frames. i had painted over it all. but i sat unused, out of fear, out of memorial. i sat unused. i knew what i had to do. i still know what i have to do.

im thinking

im thinking....i have a long weekend coming up in two weeks....i want to get in my car and drive as far down the east as i possibly can. and stay  there for the night. and soak in the sun and sand the next two days....i have cabin fever. 

come thou fount

kosovo. to recognize or not to recognize?

that was a headline on the BBC this morning. It is an issue that the EU is struggling with. THe US led the forefront on recognizing this new independent state . Other western European countries followed suit. Then of course serbia was outraged. Slowly over the next few days China and much of Eastern Europe supported Serbia out of their own interests. Political upheavals in their own nations cause them to worry of independence declarations of their own minority people groups. With China it is the Taiwanese. With Russia it is those from Georgia and other Asia break off provinces. For Bosnia it is the Bosnian-Serbs. The differnce here lies in the acts committed in the late 90's in this province. Shortly after the Dayton Peace Accord in Bosnia Milosevic knew he had lost the battle for Bosnia. There had been rumor of the ethnic Albanians in Kosovo attempting to form a unified state with the hopes of breaking off from greater Yugoslavia (serbia and montenegro). The military led by Milosevic made their way into the province and hushed the whispers of independence with mass graves, rape camps, and a term he became a pro at this point... ethnic cleansing. At this point the US had already put its foot down 5 years too late in Bosnia and was committed to this region. Thus the NATO bombings of Belgrade that ended the ten year yugoslav war. Serbia lost Kosovo in 1999. They lost it in the hills where hundreds are buried in one hole. They lost it in cattle cars full of people heading back to albania. They lost it when burning crosses into the foreheads of their muslim brothers (this i have seen with my own eyes). They lost it in camps where grown men and boys were forced to starve. I for one am proud of the US (for once) for recognizing the Kosovars. I pray for peace in this new nation because God knows they need it.

also see...

a photojournalists account of kosovo's war

tunes

current music

1.city and colour- bring me your love

this is easily my favorite album of 2008 thus far. This guy is the front man for Alexisonfire....but dont expect that at all out of him. my favorite son on there is "the girl".

2.david bazan- harmless sparks and fewer moving parts.

ive loved pedro the lion for sometime. i think dave bazan is one of the best story telling song writers today. a friend of mine was riding in my car listening to a version of "god rest ye merry gentlemen" around christmas with me and put it best "this guy's forelorned voice could make marry had a little lamb depressing."

3.rosie thomas- these friends of mine

i mean seriously this girls voice is like saturday morning sunrises and fresh snow. it doesnt hurt to have sufjan stevens and denison witmer singing back up through the whole album. there's a cool cover of denison's paper doll.

4. Zookeeper-  becoming all things

I grew up on Mineral and the Gloria Record and have a soft spot in my heart for Chris Simpson's voice. Beware guys he's gotten happy. Its kinda amazing

5. Brooke Waggoner- Fresh pair of eyes

I saw her play while I was in Nashville last month and was totally enamoured. She does the piano driven female vocals well without coming off too much like a Regina Specktor rip off. Plus she is

 her EP for free on her myspace.

sobering

its been about 75 days since the shooting in denver. charlie and dan have healed well physically and are taking the emotional and spiritual healing with stride. tiff and phil's bodies have longs since been sent home and buried with their families. news crews have left and even aftermath stories are all told. for many this pain is still fresh. those of my friends that were there the night matthew came in are just now beginning to sleep a whole night without waking in panic. today while thinking about them i sat down on my computer, googled rocky mountain news, searched the ywam shooting and finally read the stories that were too painful to make it through in december . i saw the pictures...a few of me, that i had been avoiding because of my distaste for the media through this whole thing. Then i came upon matthew's blog; the message board he had been posting on for over a year before he entered that building on december 9th and shot up a hallway of kids solely because they loved God and loved people. I read the words of a man who was disturbed, who was in pain, and who in the end allowed it to consume him. I was on Drowned tour the fall he attended YWAM for his DTS. I was there for a few weeks of his school. I never knew him but im sure i walked by him in halls, worshiped next to him, ate meals near him. I kept reading. I hoped to gain understanding of why he went to arvada that night. what drove him there. In best terms december 9th was a sobering experience for all of us.  I still cannot grasp the events of that night

remember

cup o joe sundays

i miss my dad today. As they years have gone in these days are fewer and fewer between. but today is one of them. I watched a movie yesterday where the 18 year old girl was leaving for college and the father who would otherwise had had his emotions in check would crack just for the moment where he realizes he has hugged his daughter for the last time in quite a bit of time...it leads me to remember all those times i left...for north carolina, for denver, for bosnia. each moment was one of those moments. one of those times i came to expect. this was the thing that reminded me that my goofy and sometimes emotionally vague dad, truly loved me. i miss those moments. the fact that he was crying would make me cry, its been sometime since i have been able to cry with my dad.

trust

i feel like we all have our trust in things. our own safety blankets. stuff we dont even think about but trust like gravity above our heads and earth below our feet. then there are the other things we dont necessarily have the scientific basis to back up. things we have always been told therefore must be true. things that you believe because you are an optomist. i remember living in sarajevo, and for the most part being ignorant of the war. i really didnt do my homework before i got there. i was told what a great power the UN was and that was all i really needed to know. I would feel safe walking around and seeing the blue helmet of the UN soldiers as they stood around, ate ice cream, went to the movies, rode around in land rovers. I remember thinking, if things were to get bad here i could count on these guys to take care of things. I also remember coming home and still intrigued about what i lived and saw there i started to do the research that was so overdue. As i read page after page of the story of these people i had come to love i came to the realization that the UN stood by and did nothing. said nothing. There are positions in the UN called "UN monitor" . basically you live among the people like one of them and document there deaths, and then go back to the cozy hotels that have been set aside for you and relay the info back to your higher ups. i wondered the other day...are there people in our lives that trust us to help like i trusted the guys in blue helmets. the homeless, or single mom, or katrina victim, or just a friend that is hurting. My prayer is to overcome indifference. To allow these people to effect me into action. That when others suffer i will not just "moniter" the situation but i will act. i will speak up. i will help.

i am an abolitionist

“Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted, the indifference of those who should have known better, the silence of the VOICE of justice when it mattered most, that has made it possible for evil to triumph.”
Haile Selassie