Thanksgiving 2009

Confession:

Thanksgiving usually passes by and I am not THAT thankful.

I am usually about as thankful on Thanksgiving as I have been
the rest of the year--which generally consists of an average dose
of gratutide and a lot of taking things for granted.

But this past year was different than most years. I did not plod
along like my usual happy-go-lucky, eternally optimistic self.

This past year was difficult..up until the end of this past summer.

But now, I can actually say that I am happy.

And yes--it is partially because I live in the beautiful city
of Chicago with some great friends/family. Not to mention
I have always been a little nerdy and love school...

but that is not really why.
I am thankful because I am different this year.

Last year and partially noted by some of my blog entires,
I went through some tumultuous decisions and events.

Looking back, I think I tried to listen to God,
and I had my moments, but in reality, I don't think I did it very well.

I was in consistent storms of the unknown, the hurtful,
and the lack of direction or true comfort--and to be honest,
I can't remember a lower spiritual time in my life.

I just didn't believe in God's goodness towards me at all times--
and I became overwhelmed with my belief
in His disappointment in me. And my circumstances surrounding
these thoughts only deepened the difficulty.
It's not that I didn't know, intellectually, about God's goodness.
I just couldn't seem to really believe it in my heart.

But instead of making it right, I chose to distance myself.
And then when I would cry out for comfort,
in only the truly heinous moments,
I felt God's silence.
And it made me angry.

I can still remember one night when I was alone
in my apartment, and I was praying in bed--sort of.
Before i knew it--it turned into anger, and I started
shouting (literally) at God and crying.

And He let me.
But I still felt His silence.

I am glad I am not in that place anymore,
but I can honestly say that I am glad I was in that place.

I think that it is so true that without darkness,
we cannot understand light.

I am thankful because after my searching and all that anger,
God STILL showed up in my life.
He spoke to me in powerful, clear ways
when the timing was right and when I was ready to listen.

He spoke to me in ways that I could never even explain in this blog.
He set me free from the burden of my brokenness.
He showered His love upon me at the time when I
"least deserved it."

And I know Him better now.
I understand His love more.
And I am more joyful for it.
And I think I can love others better because of it.

And thats why I am thankful this year...

"Not because of what I've done, but because of who You are."

Bryan: Voted Most Popular

So, out of complete boredom one night I went on the
most popular names website. Quite informative, really.
It gives you the top 1000 most popular names from
2000-2008.

So, family, here we are--in the order of coolness:

1. Bryan--rank: 82~you must be a classic. You have barely
decreased in popularity from 2000 (from 70), which is no
small feat, especially when you see some of the others.

2. Michelle--rank : 103. You are Bryan's fiercest competitor,
yet come up short. (this is not a joke about your height) :)
You, however, have decreased from 52, and are becoming
more uncool at a faster rate than Bryan. In the end though,
second place is more than respectable.

3. Corey--rank: 289. Not completely embarrassing--really quite
solid. However, you are depreciating in coolness
similarly to Michelle. But since you are younger, you
will be way less cool than her at her age. statistically
speaking, of course.

4. Arthur--rank: 386. This is the shocker!! I mean, seriously, has
anyone heard of someone naming their kid Arthur
recently? Because apparently, a lot of people are. :)
And "Tom" doesn't even make the list, sadly. But dad--
your name is surprisingly MUCH cooler than mine.

5. Kristin--rank: 883. Thats just embarrassing. My only defense is
that "Kristen" with an e still ranks at 492, but lets
be honest, thats still not even remotely cool. I also
was wayyyy cooler in 2000. (rank 301) yikes.

6. Terri---rank: unknown. Sadly, dear mother, you are off the
coolness chart, but I am sure you are....1001--
I am sure of it!

Poetry Woes

In my writing poetry class, I have written 9 poems
so far that have had to be turned in.

Of the nine poems, only one could be considered
light-hearted, happy, or humorous.

Another one could maybe be considered humorous,
but probably not light-hearted.

That means that 77.7% of my major poems
so far have been about....sad things.
sad situations, or people...
some personal, some fictional.

But seriously....I think I am beginning to understand
the stereotype of poets wearing all black.

And as far as my non-poem life goes....

I generally feel pretty great about it.

Justice

I can't sleep tonight.

It's one of those nights where thoughts whirl and twirl
in my head until I don't know where one thought
began how it ended up where it did.

Writing is my therapy for such nights.

And so, I will share with you the better thoughts.
The blog worthy thoughts, perhaps.

On Sunday, my pastor shared a sermon based on
I Peter 3: 8-11. There were a lot of good things
that he said, but the thing that stuck out to me the
most had to do with these verses:

"If you want to enjoy life,
an see many happy days,
keep your tongue from speaking evil
and your lips from tell lies
Turn away from evil and do good.
Search for peace and work to maintain it."

The pastor described justice to me as I have never
heard it before.

Justice means that every person has the right to
good days.

That is all. It seems so simple.

After all, what did I want today? I wanted it to be a good day.

What do I want for my family and my friends?
I want them to have good days.

And yet, somehow, I think that it is easy
to convince myself that maybe I deserve
good days--and maybe I deserve them
more than other people.

After all, maybe certain people
have done something to deserve bad days.
It is mostly a subconscious thought, but sometimes
even a conscious one.

The man on the street must have done
something to deserve where he is.

Maybe in the name of karma, or choice, or sin.

I don't think this is what Jesus thought.
I don't think thats what Jesus currently thinks.
I think Jesus was fiercely filled with love and compassion
for these people. And sadness at their brokenness.

Today, I ran along the path by Lake Michigan. It was beautiful.
It was breath-taking.

The sun was shining, and as the sun was going down, pink
and purple laced the skyline of Chicago.

It's was easy for me to look at the beautiful skyline and walk into
my pretty grad classroom and then my Lincoln Park apartment.

It's better, after all, than looking closely at the city--
looking at the poverty, the exploitation, the hatred and racism,
the domestic violence and substance abuse: in other words,
the bad days of people all around me.

My pastor went on the tell us that we are to bearers of peace:
"seek peace and work to maintain it."

We are the bringers of peace. Bringers of love--and truth--
and justice--the message of hope, not judgment into the world.

To the "least of these", especially, I think--
even though it is to everyone.

It's funny, though, because I know that I am
given peace from God, but a lot of times
I don't even feel it within myself.
So how do I give it to others?

But I still wonder,
who am I bringing peace to in this city? If I look at it
closely, who am I seeking peace for?

I am not sure that it is anyone just yet.

But I am praying about it.

Deep Unto Deep

I have been reading this book by Dana Cadler. (the title)
and it has pushed me further in some of the main things
I have been learning lately. She says,

"The Lord does not despise our weakness as we so often imagine.
He is not caught off-guard by our frailty...He knows it fully and
embraces us in this place as He beckons us to continually lift our
weak voice and our weak gaze in prayer and communion with Him."

I think it's funny that I try to hid my weakness from God,
many times through avoidance or self-righteousness,
because I think that He is disappointed in it--but let's be honest,
He knows my weakness fully and it does not change
how He loves me. And to my relief, it never could.

"He calls it victory when we willingly lift our voice to Him
from the wilderness of our barrenness. This He calls noble."

"On the days when every accusation lurks over my head
and all the voices of condemnation join forces against me,
my weak heart OVERCOMES Him as I chose to believe what
presently seems an absurdity--that God is for me and that
my prayer, though weak, is wisdom. These are the days He
holds precious.

"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed..." Jn, 20:29

I have come to the conclusion recently that because I have
been taught that I am nothing in comparison to God,
which is completely true, I have somehow interpreted this to mean
that I am such an inferior being that sometimes, or a lot times,
He looks at me with disappointment or maybe even anger.

But this is a lie.

Cadler states, "To know that each small choice matters and that
every tear holds significance with the heart of the Lamb of God
changes everything for us and enables us to give ourselves
unreservedly to the journey of our heart."

If I know that God's love is so deep--that He never looks upon
me with disappointment, that he sees blamelessness in me through
Christ, that He counts weakness in prayer as noble, and that often
what I think is barren or unfruitful prayer he counts as precious....
is so powerful.

She says that even in the moments that when we can't feel God
in prayer, when we do not feel Him close to us, when prayer
and communion with him is hard and not a deep desire, this
is her prayer:

"Write it down in our book, O God. Though it was so empty
and so dry, may it count in an eternal relevance I do not yet
comprehend. Write it down so that one day you might read to
me of its preciousness. Remember this day, though I know it
will blend into so many days just like it in my own memory.
Count it as valuable to the heart of God. And O God, give me
one grace, I pray. Give me the grace to give myself in prayer
once again tomorrow. To believe that it matters. To put my
heart before You though I feel so unproductive and unfruitful.
Give me the grace to spend tomorrow once more with You in love.
For I can think of no more noble way to spend a day than to
spend it with You, whether I feel your nearness or not. Give
me the grace for one more day.

To believe in God's love seems elementary to me, yet I realize
that I have not grasped it yet--and never will in entirety.
Yet beginning to grasp this truth more and more is giving
me such freedom! To believe in the goodness ahead of me,
to know that He is with me, rejoicing over me, and not
disappointed. To know that every feeling, tear,
prayer counts to Him, is valuable and precious to Him.

May I have the grace to believe the truth today and to live
a life of gratitude to the God who is overcome with love for
me--for us.

The Joy of Chicago

Things that have brought me joy thus far in Chicago:

One of the most breath-taking views is on my usual running
path--the city skyline on the right and Lake Michigan on my left.

My apartment is small, but more cozy and cute than cramped. :)

My roommate and I have come up with a motto if we are having
a bad day--in the words of Lady Gaga...
"Just Dance..It's going to be okay"
which we belt out as we dance around our apartment...
unashamed. ha.

There is a coffee shop on every corner.

I ponder how in the world people have Great Danes
and Labs as pets around here--
are they the ones living in the 3.4 million Brownstone?

Grad school is only a 5 minute walk away.

I live by some great friends and family members.

Part of my "job" as a student is to sit by the lake and write poetry.

There is always someone fascinating to walk by....

Downtown is oh so very close.

And right now, I have the time to talk it all in.

God is good.

Writing Poetry Class

My first week's poem: A Portrait Poem

The Pencil

His teenage giant stature somehow
fills the cubicle classroom where he sits.

Enthroned he silently commands his followers—
his classmates--with a simple smirk or a mouthed, foul word.

His eyes speak—I’m the King.
The King of influence. The King of cruelty.

His heart speaks of metal and jagged glass,
of pleas discarded; of Pharoah’s refusal.

The history teacher shouts of hope and change—
of equality, of Malcom X and Susan B

But his fingers say—you can’t teach me.
To believe or accept or sing praise

as his lined jaw faces the side window
and his pencil lays still on his desk.