This is only 2nd draft, so please keep that in mind. It has a lot of different trails, even though there's one main flow. There's still a lot of "tell" when there should be "show". But please, gimme feedback- I love it.
In and out of waking
My dad asked me about last night's
event, excited by the excitement I
presented the day before.
My dad only heard defensive tones.
I was not good at covering
I had nothing real to say.
But dad
grew to learn more about
the cause than I,
in just a 2 hour sitting
He did not recognize
my typical tone.
Enthused, he kept asking
what I'd do
what is next- letter to a Senator?
petitioning my friends? Giving money
to a run-down African village?
I couldn't see our faces. Only clearly
remember the voice tones-
the passion he carried shot down
the apathy I tried to hide.
The night before, I was on the metro
going over in my head a million times
what had just occurred.
I joined the choir of voices raised high,
and sat with friends on the hot lawn- I
was grateful for my boho sundress-
which allowed relief and made me stick out
through hundreds of the same t-shirt.
Taking pictures- I held back my sneezes-as
I was so glad to hold the banner high
(but what did it say again?)
And then came the bang,
that lit up the sky,
and I would see the heart of God.
People squealed and ran toward their possessions.
I wanted to stay through the first rain.
We came back together and a familiar voice started
speaking- so soft and foreign and eloquent.
I had known this voice in prior travels, but
barely paid attention.
The second rain struck our heads as he finished.
One by one my friends decided to go, and everyone
scattered. I knew the rain would cease, and the evening
would bring beauty. I knew sometimes you just gotta
go into things alone.
But when they disappeared, I did too.
Fled with new friends -- up the mall we went!
I held them back from running- a hiking backpack, yoga mat
and messenger bag- slowed me down.
It was raining again, before we reach the
Smithsonian stop- soaked when I climbed aboard-
everyone else was so dry.
Wet hair, muddy feet, trash bag dress-
as if I was a life-time nomad.
All the way home, I did not
consider the missing children.
Simply my lonliness...
and wondering where my adventure went.
It was the same old story
of every good deed I've ever done
I shared the Vienna ride with
a proper elderly couple-
(I shared my seat with the Mr.
when the train was too full).
And yapping teenage girls, and
the people
who go to the right school,
wear the right clothes
and have the right manners-
maybe I should've gotten off somewhere else.
I wasn't there to help-
I looked ready to be helped.
No missing dream people enchanted the train though-
except maybe me.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
ughhh
I've inadvertently watched an unhealthy amount of movies the past few days dealing directly with quirky, slightttttly immature people and relationships.
It's good to know I'm not alone.
It's good to know I'm not alone.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
everything is loss (uh-oh) but I know you can give to the Lord
So goes the lyrics by one of my faves, Sufjan Stevens.
It rings so true in my life. Over this past year, I've gone through significant loss. I don't want to scare anyone who is about to graduate college, but I will tell you, be prepared.
One of my friends and I are going through a Beth Moore study on John: The Beloved Disciple. A year ago, I wouldn't be caught dead reading Beth Moore. Not because I knew anything about her or her theology, but because of a cheesy book title I saw from her, entitled "Get yourself out of that PIT." She's on the front cover, all made up and perfect looking with a big goofy grin, and in typical Janelle-fashion, I judged her and stuck my nose up at reading any of her bible study books.
But nevertheless, I am doing this study. One thing I like about it is that it's really quick and easy- a characteristic of a bible study I used to disdain. But it makes so non-threatening and approachable which is perfect for this time of my life. Except, her questions are not easy.
I stumbled over this following question yesterday. Not having any words. Not having any knowledge. I like to think of myself as someone with a lot of knowledge, but I came up empty-handed here:
When I read that question and considered its implications, I wanted to throw the 2 pound book across the room. But I just stared at it, not knowing the answer. No words came up. I who normally have words for everything.
The loss of a college environment may seem to some to be insignificant. But, boy, it hasn't been for me. Everyday I get ready for work and drive my car an hour rather than riding Lady Green through campus, I feel like I've lost a huge part myself. I enjoyed a sizable amount of freedom to be who I wanted to be in college and I generally felt accepted.
I don't feel free here. And I am not blaming my church, work, friends or anyone around here. It's just so routine. And there were so many things I did in college that I don't feel at ease to do anymore.
If you're still in college and reading this, please don't take for granted what you have. I'm sure you commuter students have a totally different experience which won't amount to as much loss when you're done. But for those of you who are away at school and flourishing in your college environment, count your blessings.
Right now, I am beginning to let go. I am striving forward to find complete freedom in knowing Jesus Christ- and allowing my spirit to flourish through Him alone. I guess that's what I'm learning through my loss and my forever long transition period.
It rings so true in my life. Over this past year, I've gone through significant loss. I don't want to scare anyone who is about to graduate college, but I will tell you, be prepared.
One of my friends and I are going through a Beth Moore study on John: The Beloved Disciple. A year ago, I wouldn't be caught dead reading Beth Moore. Not because I knew anything about her or her theology, but because of a cheesy book title I saw from her, entitled "Get yourself out of that PIT." She's on the front cover, all made up and perfect looking with a big goofy grin, and in typical Janelle-fashion, I judged her and stuck my nose up at reading any of her bible study books.
But nevertheless, I am doing this study. One thing I like about it is that it's really quick and easy- a characteristic of a bible study I used to disdain. But it makes so non-threatening and approachable which is perfect for this time of my life. Except, her questions are not easy.
I stumbled over this following question yesterday. Not having any words. Not having any knowledge. I like to think of myself as someone with a lot of knowledge, but I came up empty-handed here:
What have you learned from seasons of separation - those moments when change and transition leave you feeling at a loss?
When I read that question and considered its implications, I wanted to throw the 2 pound book across the room. But I just stared at it, not knowing the answer. No words came up. I who normally have words for everything.
The loss of a college environment may seem to some to be insignificant. But, boy, it hasn't been for me. Everyday I get ready for work and drive my car an hour rather than riding Lady Green through campus, I feel like I've lost a huge part myself. I enjoyed a sizable amount of freedom to be who I wanted to be in college and I generally felt accepted.
I don't feel free here. And I am not blaming my church, work, friends or anyone around here. It's just so routine. And there were so many things I did in college that I don't feel at ease to do anymore.
If you're still in college and reading this, please don't take for granted what you have. I'm sure you commuter students have a totally different experience which won't amount to as much loss when you're done. But for those of you who are away at school and flourishing in your college environment, count your blessings.
Right now, I am beginning to let go. I am striving forward to find complete freedom in knowing Jesus Christ- and allowing my spirit to flourish through Him alone. I guess that's what I'm learning through my loss and my forever long transition period.
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."- Phillippians 3: 7-11
Sunday, March 22, 2009
one day, i shall write a book on laughter
Would if you were given the capacity to see all of life's events, rather dramatic, traumatic or light-hearted, through humorous eyes?
is this strength? weakness?
both?
Though I may have a peculiarly weighty heart, I say everything with the same ironic tone. Because I view happiness and pain as directly linked co-existors. One cannot be without the other. So they are equal co-partners in delivering life's hearty laughter (I am one who has had to keep myself from laughing at a funeral).
I don't see this perspective as dark or cynical. I see it as accepting of all circumstances, but can be easily mis contrived on several many ocassions. Even when laughter is healthy, we need to practice caution in how and when we execute it.
is this strength? weakness?
both?
Though I may have a peculiarly weighty heart, I say everything with the same ironic tone. Because I view happiness and pain as directly linked co-existors. One cannot be without the other. So they are equal co-partners in delivering life's hearty laughter (I am one who has had to keep myself from laughing at a funeral).
I don't see this perspective as dark or cynical. I see it as accepting of all circumstances, but can be easily mis contrived on several many ocassions. Even when laughter is healthy, we need to practice caution in how and when we execute it.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
seedling
When I stepped outside my work building in Purcellville today, I smelled a smell. It was a farmish cowlike smell, and quite honestly it's not very appealing. "Ahhhh," I thought. "So this is what P-ville smells like when it's not winter." I wasn't disgusted by the smell I hated so much as a little kid going to the Prince William County Fair.
Instead, the smell served as a reminder to me: "It's not quite winter anymore. It's time to start my garden."
Lately, I have had this lofty idea to start a community garden. In Manassas- wish me luck.
This idea has actually stayed with me for longer than most of my ideas (that is definitely a good sign). Though, I was shy to bring it up to my friends because I was afraid the idea would be rejected and dismissed as one of Janelle's idealistic hippie thoughts (which it is). But God works in cool ways, and he showed me about a month ago that other people are willing to take this on, and that it's even been revealed separately other people close to me (total confirmation).
BUT.
I am an extremely passive person, and will get all these great ideas but never act on them. But I very decisively determined to go buy seeds, but I didn't know where to go. And no offense to Manassas, but I thought the Purcellville area would be a better place to find good seeds.
As if led by some force outside my own determination, I went to the Hamilton General Store today. It was settled in a little house, and the store right next to it was closed down. I was greeted by the smell of flowery homemade soaps and a smiling lady behind the counter. "Wow!" I said. "It smells GREAT in here."
"I think that's just me!" said the lady. I liked her instantly.
I went on to ask her about seeds and she didn't sell any ( but does sell local meat and happy milk, as well as an assortment of ice cream, candy, and interesting foods you can only find at country stores). She was happy to tell me where I could find a seed seller...and then a man who had brought her happy eggs joined in on our conversation. I told them I was (gulp) learning how to garden, and was surprised that I shared with them my ever so naive idea to start a community garden. I thought it'd get a negative "you're a dumb hippie" response.
But the man told me in his slightly thick country accent about how he was looking into buying land for a community garden/farm where he'd keep goats and hopefully appeal to the hispanic/middle eastern communities. Good idea but I felt a sort of sarcasm in his tone which made me feel that he was being ficitious. I think it was when he mentioned something about seed insurance and the lady at the counter was laughing at him the whole time.
But we ended up talking for about 30 minutes about gardening. And now I have a good starting place. I was told that tomatoes are best grown in May after you're sure the frosting's over (but if it isn't, you can cover your tomatoes with milk gallons cut open), and that grains are what people typically start growing early. I was advised on what kind of tomato seeds I should buy and also to look up what foods are grown in a region (this is noted by a number. The lady said we were either 6 or 7). I was directed to a landscaping store in Lincoln which apparently has the best gardening expert in the area.
I remember at one point the man asked if I was gonna grow from seeds or from plants. I told him seeds. Plants would probably be a lot easier, especially for a beginner like me. But I always say, if you're gonna learn something, you gotta learn the right way. And seeds just make sense to me, because I need to learn about the growth and development of plant, and that's best way to do it, even if it means failure. Even if I don't reap a harvest this year.
Seeds are very important on a spiritual level. And I like crossing over spiritual and physical principles, because many times they are completely intertwined (like vines). For some reason (partially due to my redemptive gifting of teaching) I understand the biblical metaphors of gardening rather well, even though I have never gardened. Now I want to apply these principles to my real life. I want to draw near to land and let my hands connect to the ground. I believe that builds a stronger connection with God, because you have a stronger connection to His creation.
Seeds are also very important to this phase of my life right now, where there are just little tiny seeds spread out, waiting to take root. Purcellville is a seed because its farmland reminds of my desire to get closer to the source of my food. My job at Starbucks is a seed because I work with food and drink, and I learn to work with and talk to all sorts of different, and sometimes unusual people. My job in P-ville is a seed because I needed to reconcile myself to a community that I severed myself from in college (the religious right) and I am learning the importance of having an open mind and re-learning important perspectives conservatives have. Plus I am gaining important experience and I am working in an organization where passion is emphasized, and anything less than that is strongly discouraged. And I am working in a cause which I am coming to believe in (http://www.parentalrights.org/ - go there sometime). Living in Manassas is a seed...and that's a little bit more of a loaded explanation I won't go into.
God is preparing me for something, and it's gonna be grand, but very hard. I am grateful for everything he is planting in my life.
Instead, the smell served as a reminder to me: "It's not quite winter anymore. It's time to start my garden."
Lately, I have had this lofty idea to start a community garden. In Manassas- wish me luck.
This idea has actually stayed with me for longer than most of my ideas (that is definitely a good sign). Though, I was shy to bring it up to my friends because I was afraid the idea would be rejected and dismissed as one of Janelle's idealistic hippie thoughts (which it is). But God works in cool ways, and he showed me about a month ago that other people are willing to take this on, and that it's even been revealed separately other people close to me (total confirmation).
BUT.
I am an extremely passive person, and will get all these great ideas but never act on them. But I very decisively determined to go buy seeds, but I didn't know where to go. And no offense to Manassas, but I thought the Purcellville area would be a better place to find good seeds.
As if led by some force outside my own determination, I went to the Hamilton General Store today. It was settled in a little house, and the store right next to it was closed down. I was greeted by the smell of flowery homemade soaps and a smiling lady behind the counter. "Wow!" I said. "It smells GREAT in here."
"I think that's just me!" said the lady. I liked her instantly.
I went on to ask her about seeds and she didn't sell any ( but does sell local meat and happy milk, as well as an assortment of ice cream, candy, and interesting foods you can only find at country stores). She was happy to tell me where I could find a seed seller...and then a man who had brought her happy eggs joined in on our conversation. I told them I was (gulp) learning how to garden, and was surprised that I shared with them my ever so naive idea to start a community garden. I thought it'd get a negative "you're a dumb hippie" response.
But the man told me in his slightly thick country accent about how he was looking into buying land for a community garden/farm where he'd keep goats and hopefully appeal to the hispanic/middle eastern communities. Good idea but I felt a sort of sarcasm in his tone which made me feel that he was being ficitious. I think it was when he mentioned something about seed insurance and the lady at the counter was laughing at him the whole time.
But we ended up talking for about 30 minutes about gardening. And now I have a good starting place. I was told that tomatoes are best grown in May after you're sure the frosting's over (but if it isn't, you can cover your tomatoes with milk gallons cut open), and that grains are what people typically start growing early. I was advised on what kind of tomato seeds I should buy and also to look up what foods are grown in a region (this is noted by a number. The lady said we were either 6 or 7). I was directed to a landscaping store in Lincoln which apparently has the best gardening expert in the area.
I remember at one point the man asked if I was gonna grow from seeds or from plants. I told him seeds. Plants would probably be a lot easier, especially for a beginner like me. But I always say, if you're gonna learn something, you gotta learn the right way. And seeds just make sense to me, because I need to learn about the growth and development of plant, and that's best way to do it, even if it means failure. Even if I don't reap a harvest this year.
Seeds are very important on a spiritual level. And I like crossing over spiritual and physical principles, because many times they are completely intertwined (like vines). For some reason (partially due to my redemptive gifting of teaching) I understand the biblical metaphors of gardening rather well, even though I have never gardened. Now I want to apply these principles to my real life. I want to draw near to land and let my hands connect to the ground. I believe that builds a stronger connection with God, because you have a stronger connection to His creation.
Seeds are also very important to this phase of my life right now, where there are just little tiny seeds spread out, waiting to take root. Purcellville is a seed because its farmland reminds of my desire to get closer to the source of my food. My job at Starbucks is a seed because I work with food and drink, and I learn to work with and talk to all sorts of different, and sometimes unusual people. My job in P-ville is a seed because I needed to reconcile myself to a community that I severed myself from in college (the religious right) and I am learning the importance of having an open mind and re-learning important perspectives conservatives have. Plus I am gaining important experience and I am working in an organization where passion is emphasized, and anything less than that is strongly discouraged. And I am working in a cause which I am coming to believe in (http://www.parentalrights.org/ - go there sometime). Living in Manassas is a seed...and that's a little bit more of a loaded explanation I won't go into.
God is preparing me for something, and it's gonna be grand, but very hard. I am grateful for everything he is planting in my life.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
"i want to meet with you"
Yesterday, I had a revelational idea:
Like many mornings, I worked an early shift at Starbucks (4am-9am) and afterwards I started driving up to Purcellville for my other job. Well I only work 20 hours a week in Purcellville, and every Monday we're supposed to have a meeting at 5:15 (this is because all our interns are students and it's hard to get them all in the same room at the same time). Because I work there 5 hours, 4 days a week...it seemed illogical for me to come in at my usual 10:30 time and then stay til 6:15. But I was already halfway to P-ville when I realized that.
Normally, I take Rt 15 to Church Harmony Rd or Rt 7 West. But instead I drove up Rt 15 until I reached Leesburg's old town district, and I parked by the Washington & Old Dominion Trail (I think one of these days I'll bring my bike up there to ride after work). I sat down under a pagoda and ate my yogurt. I was going to get into the Word, but then I had to pee real badly. I did not want to cut my time short, so I went to find somewhere to pee. It was only fitting that I was by a creek, laden with rocks, but it was too much in the open for me to urinate at a public park.
I walked into a development of houses, thinking it'd lead to a street (Leesburg is confusing
) but it didn't. Instead, over a bunch of buildings I saw the sign (and it opened up my eyes). It said something about natural foods. And my heart jumped in rejoice. I walk down there hoping I wouldn't have to buy an $8 apple to use their bathroom. But they were hippies and so they let me. They warned me that they used their bathroom for storage, and was astounded that it was covered with books. I could've spent all day in that bathroom looking at their strange books. So I'm a big food nerd, but honestly not too many of their books appealed to me....a lot of them were about health and boring stuff like that. I wanted something more like the philosophical reasons why you should eat organic- nothing.
And then I went to a Cigar and Pipe store. And bought a a small pipe and cloves. I was elated. I tried to smoke when I returned to my spot, but it was too windy. I read Isaiah 55 and a couple Psalms and spent some time there. And then I left.
It may seem insignificant. But its things like this that I truly relish. Sometimes you just can't travel from one job to another and work non-stop. You need to slow yourself. Your need rest. Most importantly, I needed to spend time with my Father. This was the reason I stopped...but most of my time was spent exploring.
I know that doesn't sound restful. But exploring is both restful and exhilarating to me. In my walk with God, I explore a lot of things, and I am always exploring. Life is no fun when you can't explore.
I was lacking it. In fact, I had been lacking a lot of myself. Even when I was depressed in school, I was never quite as happy as I was there. But now I'm learning happiness, and accepting what God has for me. I feel like life is becoming full again. Christ is changing me all over again.
Like many mornings, I worked an early shift at Starbucks (4am-9am) and afterwards I started driving up to Purcellville for my other job. Well I only work 20 hours a week in Purcellville, and every Monday we're supposed to have a meeting at 5:15 (this is because all our interns are students and it's hard to get them all in the same room at the same time). Because I work there 5 hours, 4 days a week...it seemed illogical for me to come in at my usual 10:30 time and then stay til 6:15. But I was already halfway to P-ville when I realized that.
Normally, I take Rt 15 to Church Harmony Rd or Rt 7 West. But instead I drove up Rt 15 until I reached Leesburg's old town district, and I parked by the Washington & Old Dominion Trail (I think one of these days I'll bring my bike up there to ride after work). I sat down under a pagoda and ate my yogurt. I was going to get into the Word, but then I had to pee real badly. I did not want to cut my time short, so I went to find somewhere to pee. It was only fitting that I was by a creek, laden with rocks, but it was too much in the open for me to urinate at a public park.
I walked into a development of houses, thinking it'd lead to a street (Leesburg is confusing
) but it didn't. Instead, over a bunch of buildings I saw the sign (and it opened up my eyes). It said something about natural foods. And my heart jumped in rejoice. I walk down there hoping I wouldn't have to buy an $8 apple to use their bathroom. But they were hippies and so they let me. They warned me that they used their bathroom for storage, and was astounded that it was covered with books. I could've spent all day in that bathroom looking at their strange books. So I'm a big food nerd, but honestly not too many of their books appealed to me....a lot of them were about health and boring stuff like that. I wanted something more like the philosophical reasons why you should eat organic- nothing.
And then I went to a Cigar and Pipe store. And bought a a small pipe and cloves. I was elated. I tried to smoke when I returned to my spot, but it was too windy. I read Isaiah 55 and a couple Psalms and spent some time there. And then I left.
It may seem insignificant. But its things like this that I truly relish. Sometimes you just can't travel from one job to another and work non-stop. You need to slow yourself. Your need rest. Most importantly, I needed to spend time with my Father. This was the reason I stopped...but most of my time was spent exploring.
I know that doesn't sound restful. But exploring is both restful and exhilarating to me. In my walk with God, I explore a lot of things, and I am always exploring. Life is no fun when you can't explore.
I was lacking it. In fact, I had been lacking a lot of myself. Even when I was depressed in school, I was never quite as happy as I was there. But now I'm learning happiness, and accepting what God has for me. I feel like life is becoming full again. Christ is changing me all over again.
Monday, March 02, 2009
the redemptive gift of teaching
On Sunday I am sharing at New Covenant Fellowship for a few minutes about the redemptive gift of teaching, which I am. I may not end up sharing this(at least not all of it) on Sunday, but I'm compiling a list for the fun of it.
If you see anything on here that may just apply to me and not other teachers, let me know. If you have any quirky statements to add...please do.
you know you're a teacher if....
1-you take time to compile this list, avoiding some other task you need to do
2-you don't realize the efficient way to do something until you are 3/4 through it. but you kinda hate efficiency if it doesn't cover all ground. you want to do things RIGHT, so it's about the means, not the end.
3-you have a really weird connection with food. you're obsessed with it- cooking, eating, and sometimes even the concepts of gardening ( even if you don't garden). you are probably one of the best cooks you know, and you have a very selective palate. it's not a surprise if you've ever been a vegetarian. you might even make up words to fit your eating life style (i.e. i'm a "hospitalitarian")
4-you are very passive and could easily spend a whole day doing nothing. you often find yourself "meaning" to do a number of things.
5-while you're not the most super-relational person, you must always have some sort of connection to people. (that's why you're on facebook or texting alllll the time)
6-you have piles and piles of books sitting around everywhere. you're addicted to buying books and sometimes reading them. you probably have $70 of overdue fines to the library.but you're still very picky, and will usually drop a book after reading 1 or 2 chapters.
7-you are very skeptical to statements people present as truth. you have to do loaded amounts of research to verify anything. and then nothing ever really gets verified because you find the holes in the arguments you read. you don't see things in black and white, but there's a lot of haze (sometimes you get so obsessed with a controversial topic, that you interrupt your senior sem research paper to research the issue and then somehow find a way to integrate into your said paper)
8-you're very lengthy about everything. because you need validate statements you make. and then make a validation to validate that validation, and so forth. your speeches/talks are usually the longest out of a class of people. you even have to take steps to make smaller margins and use 11 sized fonts (vs. 12) to save paper.
9-you have probably achieved/or are achieving some level of higher ed...and will probably go further after that
10-you tend to have a very conceptual/intellectual/professional relationship with god if you have one at all (since you doubt everything)
11-you feel a huge burden to know everything or just know enough to prove other people wrong
12-when you argue on a topic, you don't take it personally (but other people may get offended by how upfront you are... because you correct people. you have to.)
13-you internalize everything (unless you present your problems as a "lesson" to others). you ponder things over and over and over again, and let them marinate for a long time until they drive you crazy from your over analysis.
14-you're kinda slow with your ways...because things need to process over time.
15-you're very bad at maintenance. your car, your room, your everything outside of your social/professional/intellectual life often gets ignored. you're kinda messy.
16-you make jokes or ironic remarks that no one else seems to "get." you often make vague references to obscure things.
17-you'll edit this note several times.
If you see anything on here that may just apply to me and not other teachers, let me know. If you have any quirky statements to add...please do.
you know you're a teacher if....
1-you take time to compile this list, avoiding some other task you need to do
2-you don't realize the efficient way to do something until you are 3/4 through it. but you kinda hate efficiency if it doesn't cover all ground. you want to do things RIGHT, so it's about the means, not the end.
3-you have a really weird connection with food. you're obsessed with it- cooking, eating, and sometimes even the concepts of gardening ( even if you don't garden). you are probably one of the best cooks you know, and you have a very selective palate. it's not a surprise if you've ever been a vegetarian. you might even make up words to fit your eating life style (i.e. i'm a "hospitalitarian")
4-you are very passive and could easily spend a whole day doing nothing. you often find yourself "meaning" to do a number of things.
5-while you're not the most super-relational person, you must always have some sort of connection to people. (that's why you're on facebook or texting alllll the time)
6-you have piles and piles of books sitting around everywhere. you're addicted to buying books and sometimes reading them. you probably have $70 of overdue fines to the library.but you're still very picky, and will usually drop a book after reading 1 or 2 chapters.
7-you are very skeptical to statements people present as truth. you have to do loaded amounts of research to verify anything. and then nothing ever really gets verified because you find the holes in the arguments you read. you don't see things in black and white, but there's a lot of haze (sometimes you get so obsessed with a controversial topic, that you interrupt your senior sem research paper to research the issue and then somehow find a way to integrate into your said paper)
8-you're very lengthy about everything. because you need validate statements you make. and then make a validation to validate that validation, and so forth. your speeches/talks are usually the longest out of a class of people. you even have to take steps to make smaller margins and use 11 sized fonts (vs. 12) to save paper.
9-you have probably achieved/or are achieving some level of higher ed...and will probably go further after that
10-you tend to have a very conceptual/intellectual/pr
11-you feel a huge burden to know everything or just know enough to prove other people wrong
12-when you argue on a topic, you don't take it personally (but other people may get offended by how upfront you are... because you correct people. you have to.)
13-you internalize everything (unless you present your problems as a "lesson" to others). you ponder things over and over and over again, and let them marinate for a long time until they drive you crazy from your over analysis.
14-you're kinda slow with your ways...because things need to process over time.
15-you're very bad at maintenance. your car, your room, your everything outside of your social/professional/intell
16-you make jokes or ironic remarks that no one else seems to "get." you often make vague references to obscure things.
17-you'll edit this note several times.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
published- 3rd time.
This marks the 3rd time I've been published (besides in the school newspaper and high school yearbook). First time, I was 17 and it was this youth testimony book called "Case Files." 2nd time was for Currents, CNU's Literary Magazine (I had two entries in there...and I don't mean to brag but my short story won first place).
And now here's the third time- Dr. Lee, my journalism prof from CNU has an online creative non-fiction magazine, and he liked a story I wrote for his class last year on the legitimacy of short term missions work.
So here's the newest edition of The Lookout.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the topic, so please post them on here!
And now here's the third time- Dr. Lee, my journalism prof from CNU has an online creative non-fiction magazine, and he liked a story I wrote for his class last year on the legitimacy of short term missions work.
So here's the newest edition of The Lookout.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the topic, so please post them on here!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
mmmmmmusic
I am re-discovering my love for song lyrics. However, whenever I post them on my facebook status I get asked about them as if they apply directly to my life. Which in a slanted, symbolic way they are related. But when I posted "I was asleep and he woke me again" (a Sufjan stevens song about God calling Samuel) I got asked by my dad and brothers about which guy they should look out for who keeps waking me up at night. People get so literal. They should know I am hardly ever completely literal.
Music lyrics remind me of my first love- writing. This I have been ignoring, lately. I thought about that today- why am I ignoring my number one gift and possibly my life's calling? What excuse do I have? I talked to another writer recently (one who is actually writing) and she reminded me that writing is a muscle you need to keep exercising to grow stronger. Perhaps thats why I've been completely uninspired- I simply have not been working the muscle.
It's like going to the gym after ignoring it for awhile. I really really don't want to work out at those points- it's hard to work that energy back up. But once you do, you get motivated again and that energy starts coming.
So if I start writing, something will come. Maybe I should keep reading song lyrics and get back to the short stories of my muse, Flannery O'Connor. I don't have a lot of time to committ to reading novels... but there is nothing I enjoy more than a well-crafted short story.
Music lyrics remind me of my first love- writing. This I have been ignoring, lately. I thought about that today- why am I ignoring my number one gift and possibly my life's calling? What excuse do I have? I talked to another writer recently (one who is actually writing) and she reminded me that writing is a muscle you need to keep exercising to grow stronger. Perhaps thats why I've been completely uninspired- I simply have not been working the muscle.
It's like going to the gym after ignoring it for awhile. I really really don't want to work out at those points- it's hard to work that energy back up. But once you do, you get motivated again and that energy starts coming.
So if I start writing, something will come. Maybe I should keep reading song lyrics and get back to the short stories of my muse, Flannery O'Connor. I don't have a lot of time to committ to reading novels... but there is nothing I enjoy more than a well-crafted short story.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
slums
I cried the first 30 minutes of Slumdog Millionaire. I did not cry during any part of the movie that was more intense and hence would've been more appropriate to cry...no, I cried at the beginning.
I was practically sobbing in the theater, hoping that the 4 other people, who were there in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, wouldn't notice.
The scene I watched was of a group of boys playing where they're not supposed to...some police guards catch them and the camera closes in on 2 little boys trying to outrun these guards...sprinting into their slum community and trying to lose them.
The director did a beautiful job catching the slum they were in, and portraying the living conditions to the audience. It was the perfect introductory scene to show what conditions the protagonist came from.
I spent three weeks working in a slum in Nairobi called Kibera. Coming home from Kenya, I never really liked to talk about. I'd write about it sometimes. But I got very weird about talking about my missions experience. Nothing totally life scarring happened there. I did not witness some outrageously cruel events. But I did see cruelty: it was my own.
I asked God over and over again when I was in Kibera to pierce my heart for the slum. Why? When I walked through it, I did not feel any feeling I would have expected. I was absolutely numb. I wanted to feel love, but that numbness turned to almost apathy.
I had a few short interactions with people in the slums that didn't pierce my heart, but absolutely broke it. One situation can be portrayed by a scene in a short story I wrote a while back:
The girls nearly ran down the dirt roads to get to the Otiende compound where the sisters were waiting. They started down the trail, through a garland of flowers where men without jobs were hired to tend. The sisters greeted the men with a cheerful “habari zenu,” to which they replied, “mzuri sana!” The girls emulated the sisters in sing song vocals. Sr. Marie Rose engaged the men in dialogue neither of the girls’ Kiswahili was proficient enough to understand. However, one man was friendly enough to soon break out in English:
“Why are you Americans here?” His stern eyes looked Hannah in the face. “You so rich, you just touring through! This is where we live.” With a fearful zealousness, Hannah reached in her bag for a track, but Tamera interrupted before she could grab one.
“We’re here because we do care.” Tamera quipped. He turned towards the plainer girl.
“Ah, but you don’t care,” his chalky teeth spat. “You pass through and go on home.” The activist cast her eyes down to the dirt with nothing to say. Hannah looked at the man and noticed that his face was nothing but honest. “Jina nani?” she inquired, with the best smile she could force.
“My name is Peter!” the man exclaimed, surprised at Hannah’s attempt. “Na wewe?”
“Jina langu ni Hannah and this is Tamera.” The girls smiled angelically.
“We are not like all Americans,” the activist started again, enunciating her words articulately, so he could understand. “We want to help Kenyans like you and that is why we are here!”
“You want to help? Me?” His mustache curled up with his yellow teeth.
“Sure we do! That’s why we’re here!” Tamera said, starting to sound enthusiastic as Hannah, who nudged her, silently trying to communicate.
“I better get your contact info!” Before the girls had time to say anything, Peter dropped his tools and ran quickly to his tin house, searching for a scrap of paper. His house was swamped by sewage. He wondered what it’d be like if he ever made it to America.
Hannah looked at Tamera as if to say “Look what you did.” They were told many times not to give their contacts random Kenyans they met. Tamera looked back as the sisters and the girls started moving down the path. Peter sprinted to catch up. His hands flung excitedly in the breeze, gripping a dirty piece of paper. “Do you have a pen? Do you have a pen?” he cried. America was no longer so far away.
Tamera looked at him anxiously, not knowing how to respond. “No, I do not have a pen on me,” she lied. She carried one in her small journal and pen in her dress pocket.
There's very little question that Tamera, the "activist", was me. I walked into these situations like I was an American Hero, when really, there's very little I could ever do to actually help.
I guess, when you're overseas, your sins become a little bit more apparent. It's because of this that I almost have completely blocked my experiences in the slums out of my mind.
I can't watch movies like Slumdog Millionaire without feeling this pain that's associated with my guilt. 'Cause really this guilt never really left. People kept telling me that I should not feel guilt, so instead of dealing with it, I became apathetic to it. I left it all behind in Kenya. One movie I never finished watching was The Constant Gardener which was literally set in Kibera. I could never make it beyond the scene where the kids swarm the wife, chanting "how are YOU! how are YOU!"
I really need to embrace this pain, but it's still hard for me to reflect back on Kenya. But through much needed prayer, I know this guilt will be overcome with God's loving grace.
Above are just a few pictures I collected of Kibera.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
between what i know i need to do and what i do
I have to let go of my distractions. Primarily of this year's big letdowns.
In the Bible, there are two kinds of fears (maybe there's more, but these are the two I'm concerned with). There is one which means dread (hebrew word for that isn't important to me, because I'd rather that concept. This reminds me of all my anxieties, heartaches and terrors.The other fear is the fear of the Lord, which people wrongly misinterpret, thinking we should be afraid of God. I mean, he is a powerful God so perhaps we be a little afraid. But the Hebrew word for this fear is yira. This is one of the most beautiful words to me, and one I hold dearly to my heart (I even have a necklace my best friend got made for me which says "Yira YHWH" in front of a tree.)
This word represents a holy fear, but it's closer to meaning reverence or awe.When I think about Yira YHWH, I think about my Father positionally. I hold him above all my anxieties and dreaded fears. I hold him up in reverence because he is my King, Lord of my life, and Creator of all things. He is the restorer and redeemer of life. He is way beyond the little things of my life. His love is greater than all the pains and trials I could endure in my lifetime.
I wear Yira YHWH around my neck to remember. I can get very anxious. One of my problems doesn't have to be as big a deal as I make it, but I blow it out of proportion and take it personally. One of my biggest fears gets whispered to me as a lie- "You are alone in this world, Janelle. Completely alone. No one knows you and no one loves you." I know this dread is a trumphed up lie.What do I do? I need to fix my eyes upon Jesus. Fear him. Or yira him if you still don't like that word. If my heart is attentive towards him, these lies dissipate. Jesus has already taken victory over these lies. He won my life on the cross. On the cross he overcomes our biggest fears.
There you go. I know what I need to do. But does that mean I'll do it?
In the Bible, there are two kinds of fears (maybe there's more, but these are the two I'm concerned with). There is one which means dread (hebrew word for that isn't important to me, because I'd rather that concept. This reminds me of all my anxieties, heartaches and terrors.The other fear is the fear of the Lord, which people wrongly misinterpret, thinking we should be afraid of God. I mean, he is a powerful God so perhaps we be a little afraid. But the Hebrew word for this fear is yira. This is one of the most beautiful words to me, and one I hold dearly to my heart (I even have a necklace my best friend got made for me which says "Yira YHWH" in front of a tree.)
This word represents a holy fear, but it's closer to meaning reverence or awe.When I think about Yira YHWH, I think about my Father positionally. I hold him above all my anxieties and dreaded fears. I hold him up in reverence because he is my King, Lord of my life, and Creator of all things. He is the restorer and redeemer of life. He is way beyond the little things of my life. His love is greater than all the pains and trials I could endure in my lifetime.
I wear Yira YHWH around my neck to remember. I can get very anxious. One of my problems doesn't have to be as big a deal as I make it, but I blow it out of proportion and take it personally. One of my biggest fears gets whispered to me as a lie- "You are alone in this world, Janelle. Completely alone. No one knows you and no one loves you." I know this dread is a trumphed up lie.What do I do? I need to fix my eyes upon Jesus. Fear him. Or yira him if you still don't like that word. If my heart is attentive towards him, these lies dissipate. Jesus has already taken victory over these lies. He won my life on the cross. On the cross he overcomes our biggest fears.
There you go. I know what I need to do. But does that mean I'll do it?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
quiet
I haven't had a lot of time to be quiet lately. I could blame that on recently starting two jobs..but no. This started way before now. I don't even know when it started. But it's made my relationship with God not relational. Instead it's been reduced to following a system of values.
I do a lot of church stuff. And I know I need to cut it down. The problem is, I haven't yet committed to ministry with one church. I have this continuous discontentment with churches and I find that it's hard to be fed.
However, I am not so sure that the problem is necessarily with the churches. It's with me. I need to first cut down my involvements. Next I need to seek God in the quiet of the day.
Silence is golden. I don't spend a lot of time there. Even when my music's turned off and I am unexposed to any of media, my mind is still busy. It scrutinizes and over analyzes. It plans and it worries. It's self-absorbed...always seeing my life through the lens of a novel or a movie, instead of a real life.
Yesterday, I was on my way to work. I had my music on. It's counter-intuitive for me to turn it off. But I did. And to quiet the thoughts racing through my brain, I started praying aloud. It was the best thing to do. After that, instead of returning back to my mind of flesh, I just started worshiping God. It wasn't out of any triggering event. I did not have any emotions overwhelming to get to that point. It was simply a response. My first response in awhile that came without a complaint. It felt nice just to worship God without asking, asking, asking (which is all I had been doing).
I felt satisfied in God for the first time in awhile. It's so good just to feel content that you are walking in God's plan. Even if things are not as you expected. They're unpredictable and things are always transitional. Nothing stays. Except Him
I do a lot of church stuff. And I know I need to cut it down. The problem is, I haven't yet committed to ministry with one church. I have this continuous discontentment with churches and I find that it's hard to be fed.
However, I am not so sure that the problem is necessarily with the churches. It's with me. I need to first cut down my involvements. Next I need to seek God in the quiet of the day.
Silence is golden. I don't spend a lot of time there. Even when my music's turned off and I am unexposed to any of media, my mind is still busy. It scrutinizes and over analyzes. It plans and it worries. It's self-absorbed...always seeing my life through the lens of a novel or a movie, instead of a real life.
Yesterday, I was on my way to work. I had my music on. It's counter-intuitive for me to turn it off. But I did. And to quiet the thoughts racing through my brain, I started praying aloud. It was the best thing to do. After that, instead of returning back to my mind of flesh, I just started worshiping God. It wasn't out of any triggering event. I did not have any emotions overwhelming to get to that point. It was simply a response. My first response in awhile that came without a complaint. It felt nice just to worship God without asking, asking, asking (which is all I had been doing).
I felt satisfied in God for the first time in awhile. It's so good just to feel content that you are walking in God's plan. Even if things are not as you expected. They're unpredictable and things are always transitional. Nothing stays. Except Him
Monday, January 12, 2009
places
"Stations make me think of my own travels
All the people
The places I've been through
And when you find out they're the same thing
As the people
The places where you grew"- Denison Witmer
I have always had a slight case of wanderlust. And while many people don't necessarily enjoy Manassas, I have mad cabin fever if I'm there too long. I got to get out. I have to see new places. There's something crawling around my heart that's tugging me to move. I know that's a weird way of saying it, but it's true.
I took up a new part-time job recently. And it's far away from Manassas. OK, it's an hour. Which isn't bad considering that most DC commuters from Manassas spend about 4 hours a day on the road. As much as part of me would enjoy a DC job, I am thrilled with the location of Purcellville.
First of all, there's the drive. If I want to be adventurous, I can take another route. There's hardly any traffic on the way up, especially because I leave Manassas later in the morning. And because it's daylight, I can see all the trees waving by.
There's something about the countryside that makes me wistful and a little more happy inside. There's so much land all around. Driving through the land today made me realize how little land there is in Manassas. Everything's developed.
And there's something about the countryside that makes want to explore, even at the risk of getting lost for hours. I am less prone to do this because of the mileage and gas I already spend. I see all these roads which point to wine vineyards and one of these days I will just turn into one and keep driving.
And then the houses. Sometimes I say I'll never live in a house. But I do want one. And I mean the houses in town, which are close to businesses and were built a very long time ago, so they need to be restored. And I would NEVER want a house to myself, or to just few people. If I lived in house, I would want to live with a whole community of people. I know it sounds like a silly hippie dream, but I don't care. It's more affordable and it gives serious lessons in learning how to love others.
I see so many houses. Ones on huge plots of land, and ones seated right next to an old historic church. I see a lot of mansions, too. And I'm less impressed by those. I think mansions are sort of greedy unless you house lots of people...but who needs all that space if you're just down to 1-5 people. It doesn't make sense. I'm from a family of 7, and it wouldn't make sense for us. I think what bothers me about mansions is that the allure is the sense of status it gives to an individual.
I like exploring little towns. It's my favorite because you likely can't get lost but there's so much to see. But I went to one little shopping center in Purcellville the other day, and many of the businesses there were closed down. It made me very sad. It was a cute little center, but it looked deserted and deprived.
The sense of depravity follows me everywhere these days. Even when I experience the fun of driving or walking to a new place, I also feel a lot of sorrow. The drive there is most indicative of this feeling. Because I am surrounded by more land, it's like I'm surrounded by more pain. Let me explain. Land is more open. It's exposed and vulnerable. It's where plants grow...or don't grow. If nothing grows, it doesn't produce. There's no harvest, no life on the land. It's just barren.
I always thought of Manassas as a sort of waste land (T.S. Eliot style). Only its barreness is disguised. It's covered by ugly buildings and fake plastic trees. A new Wal-Mart, a new Starbucks ( heh). The constuction on Liberia is proof. So many buildings going up on land which had been bought and sold by firms and laid barren there for years. Barren but owned by the corporate world.
It's winter time, which means everything is naturally dead. The trees have no leaves and are an ugly shade of brown. Individually, their shapes beautiful. But bunched together, it looks like a bunch of mangled up twigs. The grass is a greyish-yellow at best. It runs for miles. I like country depravity. It shows its weakness, its vulnerability. The suburbs only wear a mask. And not the most appealing one, in my eyes.
I think people have different relationships with different places. And their spirits flourish or die depending on where they are. It's different for everyone.
I do like cities. I could explore a city all day and then the next day. But I have a connection to farmland. Never have I lived on farmland, I honestly don't even know if I can see myself living there. Most people thought I was pretty strange when I wrote a whole senior thesis on the connections between faith and farming. I do feel more at one with God when I am closer to the source of food.
Being in this place reminds me of God's constant provision, his faithfulness (even if it's dead, the seasons will change and it will come to life again) and his beauty.
All the people
The places I've been through
And when you find out they're the same thing
As the people
The places where you grew"- Denison Witmer
I have always had a slight case of wanderlust. And while many people don't necessarily enjoy Manassas, I have mad cabin fever if I'm there too long. I got to get out. I have to see new places. There's something crawling around my heart that's tugging me to move. I know that's a weird way of saying it, but it's true.
I took up a new part-time job recently. And it's far away from Manassas. OK, it's an hour. Which isn't bad considering that most DC commuters from Manassas spend about 4 hours a day on the road. As much as part of me would enjoy a DC job, I am thrilled with the location of Purcellville.
First of all, there's the drive. If I want to be adventurous, I can take another route. There's hardly any traffic on the way up, especially because I leave Manassas later in the morning. And because it's daylight, I can see all the trees waving by.
There's something about the countryside that makes me wistful and a little more happy inside. There's so much land all around. Driving through the land today made me realize how little land there is in Manassas. Everything's developed.
And there's something about the countryside that makes want to explore, even at the risk of getting lost for hours. I am less prone to do this because of the mileage and gas I already spend. I see all these roads which point to wine vineyards and one of these days I will just turn into one and keep driving.
And then the houses. Sometimes I say I'll never live in a house. But I do want one. And I mean the houses in town, which are close to businesses and were built a very long time ago, so they need to be restored. And I would NEVER want a house to myself, or to just few people. If I lived in house, I would want to live with a whole community of people. I know it sounds like a silly hippie dream, but I don't care. It's more affordable and it gives serious lessons in learning how to love others.
I see so many houses. Ones on huge plots of land, and ones seated right next to an old historic church. I see a lot of mansions, too. And I'm less impressed by those. I think mansions are sort of greedy unless you house lots of people...but who needs all that space if you're just down to 1-5 people. It doesn't make sense. I'm from a family of 7, and it wouldn't make sense for us. I think what bothers me about mansions is that the allure is the sense of status it gives to an individual.
I like exploring little towns. It's my favorite because you likely can't get lost but there's so much to see. But I went to one little shopping center in Purcellville the other day, and many of the businesses there were closed down. It made me very sad. It was a cute little center, but it looked deserted and deprived.
The sense of depravity follows me everywhere these days. Even when I experience the fun of driving or walking to a new place, I also feel a lot of sorrow. The drive there is most indicative of this feeling. Because I am surrounded by more land, it's like I'm surrounded by more pain. Let me explain. Land is more open. It's exposed and vulnerable. It's where plants grow...or don't grow. If nothing grows, it doesn't produce. There's no harvest, no life on the land. It's just barren.
I always thought of Manassas as a sort of waste land (T.S. Eliot style). Only its barreness is disguised. It's covered by ugly buildings and fake plastic trees. A new Wal-Mart, a new Starbucks ( heh). The constuction on Liberia is proof. So many buildings going up on land which had been bought and sold by firms and laid barren there for years. Barren but owned by the corporate world.
It's winter time, which means everything is naturally dead. The trees have no leaves and are an ugly shade of brown. Individually, their shapes beautiful. But bunched together, it looks like a bunch of mangled up twigs. The grass is a greyish-yellow at best. It runs for miles. I like country depravity. It shows its weakness, its vulnerability. The suburbs only wear a mask. And not the most appealing one, in my eyes.
I think people have different relationships with different places. And their spirits flourish or die depending on where they are. It's different for everyone.
I do like cities. I could explore a city all day and then the next day. But I have a connection to farmland. Never have I lived on farmland, I honestly don't even know if I can see myself living there. Most people thought I was pretty strange when I wrote a whole senior thesis on the connections between faith and farming. I do feel more at one with God when I am closer to the source of food.
Being in this place reminds me of God's constant provision, his faithfulness (even if it's dead, the seasons will change and it will come to life again) and his beauty.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
yes, i like church (most of the time)
My faith is my life. It is not just part of my life. It consists of all of who I am. Even when I walk in cynicism, and I am extremely off-focus, my life is still my faith.
Maybe it comes as a surprise to some, as I am not any sort of stereotypical happy all the time and let me preach to everyone sorta Christian. I normally don't talk about it, unless it comes up in conversation because I don't like to push anything on anyone. But quite often, it does come up, because it is my life. It's casual. "Janelle, what did you do this week?" I could respond, such as this week, I went to the beach with my church group, or I went to a bible study, or I hung out with people (and some of these people I know through these things). So it does come up.
But, a lot of people go to church. People who don't give a crap about it go to church. A lot of people go to church and are completely bored. Not so with me. I go to church and I am usually engaged, or fascinated, or just feel extremely loved in the community of people who care about me a lot.
It bothers me when people interpret my church-going as something I just do because I am supposed to. I am very rebellious by nature and I don't do anything just because I'm expected to. I've noticed that people take their church experiences and apply it to me. Because they go to a boring church must mean that all churches are like that I think it's funny that because I am generally a sarcastic person, some people interpret my liking of church as me just being factitious.
I work close sometimes on Saturday nights. And that's my least favorite shift because we usually get out of there late and I have to wake up early for church. Waking up early is probably the thing I hate most about church (this is why I love churches that do later services, but alas, my current church doesn't). One time when we were getting out super late, a shift supervisor said something along the lines of "It's ok, you can sleep in anyways." And I am like, "No, we have to get out as soon as we can. I have church, and I am not missing it again." And something would be said like "Oh, God will forgive you."
And that gets me mad. I don't treat church like religion. If I want to miss it, I will. I didn't go to church for a long time but was still a practicing Christian involved in bible studies and college fellowships. I know that "God will forgive me" if I don't go to church. What is not understood, is that I have an actual desire to be there. It is often the best part of my week and I absolutely hate missing out.
My faith has been a little dry lately, so sometimes what I do feels like I'm just going through religious motions. But then I realize, this is all I got left. My personal prayer life is practically dead...but the encouragment I get from church and different groups keeps afloat and keeps me from turning away from God. God uses brothers and sisters in the body of Christ to communicate to me how much he loves me since I most of the time refuse to listen to him directly.
But despite this phase, I love Christ, will give up my life for him and I genuinely do enjoy being a Christian, no matter how sarcastic and cynical I get. I hated church for a long time as a Christian, because I did not understand its function in my personal walk with God. Sometimes it felt like relationships with Jesus, put out on a performance stage. But nowadays, I have developed a genuine love for church and a continuous desire to be there. That's all I got now, unfortunately. But I will work with that.
an afterthought edit: As I am reading through this, I realize I care too much about what people think. I write this blog as a sort of defense. But I don't think I care only what they think of me. I want people to understand faith differently, and that's why I care.
Maybe it comes as a surprise to some, as I am not any sort of stereotypical happy all the time and let me preach to everyone sorta Christian. I normally don't talk about it, unless it comes up in conversation because I don't like to push anything on anyone. But quite often, it does come up, because it is my life. It's casual. "Janelle, what did you do this week?" I could respond, such as this week, I went to the beach with my church group, or I went to a bible study, or I hung out with people (and some of these people I know through these things). So it does come up.
But, a lot of people go to church. People who don't give a crap about it go to church. A lot of people go to church and are completely bored. Not so with me. I go to church and I am usually engaged, or fascinated, or just feel extremely loved in the community of people who care about me a lot.
It bothers me when people interpret my church-going as something I just do because I am supposed to. I am very rebellious by nature and I don't do anything just because I'm expected to. I've noticed that people take their church experiences and apply it to me. Because they go to a boring church must mean that all churches are like that I think it's funny that because I am generally a sarcastic person, some people interpret my liking of church as me just being factitious.
I work close sometimes on Saturday nights. And that's my least favorite shift because we usually get out of there late and I have to wake up early for church. Waking up early is probably the thing I hate most about church (this is why I love churches that do later services, but alas, my current church doesn't). One time when we were getting out super late, a shift supervisor said something along the lines of "It's ok, you can sleep in anyways." And I am like, "No, we have to get out as soon as we can. I have church, and I am not missing it again." And something would be said like "Oh, God will forgive you."
And that gets me mad. I don't treat church like religion. If I want to miss it, I will. I didn't go to church for a long time but was still a practicing Christian involved in bible studies and college fellowships. I know that "God will forgive me" if I don't go to church. What is not understood, is that I have an actual desire to be there. It is often the best part of my week and I absolutely hate missing out.
My faith has been a little dry lately, so sometimes what I do feels like I'm just going through religious motions. But then I realize, this is all I got left. My personal prayer life is practically dead...but the encouragment I get from church and different groups keeps afloat and keeps me from turning away from God. God uses brothers and sisters in the body of Christ to communicate to me how much he loves me since I most of the time refuse to listen to him directly.
But despite this phase, I love Christ, will give up my life for him and I genuinely do enjoy being a Christian, no matter how sarcastic and cynical I get. I hated church for a long time as a Christian, because I did not understand its function in my personal walk with God. Sometimes it felt like relationships with Jesus, put out on a performance stage. But nowadays, I have developed a genuine love for church and a continuous desire to be there. That's all I got now, unfortunately. But I will work with that.
an afterthought edit: As I am reading through this, I realize I care too much about what people think. I write this blog as a sort of defense. But I don't think I care only what they think of me. I want people to understand faith differently, and that's why I care.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
more and more human
Let's be honest. Most of my life has been spent on some cloud somewhere. I exiled myself there, because I did not want to face life as it really was. Lately, I've been floating down to the surface. I wrote a couple months ago that reality is hitting me like a ton of bricks. Now it's not. Now I'm floating, I am not being slammed down.
I am bruised by the bricks. I am still mourning the life I would've wanted. But I am better. Reality is making me stronger. Actually, it's making me weaker. But when I am weak, then I am strong.
More importantly, it's making me more relate able. I am not on some super spiritual high. It's good when that happens. It's good when you get a good super-charge of the holy spirit. But that's not where I am currently. Not like it isn't there. The spirit is keeping me afloat.
But I am more relate able after seeing my own sin clearer than ever. Through this I can better understand other people, and I am less inclined to judge. I have always been very accepting of all sorts of people but I have never understood how to interact with all types of people. I am still learning.
Work has been helping me. Sometimes my co-workers are such a pain. Sometimes they're wonderful. When people used to talk down to me, I used to ignore it completely and pretend it didn't happen. But I won't stand for it anymore. If someone, out of stress and tiredness, says something a little off to me, I might respond killing them with kindness or I completely ignoring the comment. But sometimes people need to know. For example, someone used to keep misinterpreting my body language and vocal tones. I had to absolutely communicate to her that this was all in her head. Starbucks is not my ideal job, but here, I am becoming more real with people. I am learning to take their punches and reply honestly when I need to.
I am bruised by the bricks. I am still mourning the life I would've wanted. But I am better. Reality is making me stronger. Actually, it's making me weaker. But when I am weak, then I am strong.
More importantly, it's making me more relate able. I am not on some super spiritual high. It's good when that happens. It's good when you get a good super-charge of the holy spirit. But that's not where I am currently. Not like it isn't there. The spirit is keeping me afloat.
But I am more relate able after seeing my own sin clearer than ever. Through this I can better understand other people, and I am less inclined to judge. I have always been very accepting of all sorts of people but I have never understood how to interact with all types of people. I am still learning.
Work has been helping me. Sometimes my co-workers are such a pain. Sometimes they're wonderful. When people used to talk down to me, I used to ignore it completely and pretend it didn't happen. But I won't stand for it anymore. If someone, out of stress and tiredness, says something a little off to me, I might respond killing them with kindness or I completely ignoring the comment. But sometimes people need to know. For example, someone used to keep misinterpreting my body language and vocal tones. I had to absolutely communicate to her that this was all in her head. Starbucks is not my ideal job, but here, I am becoming more real with people. I am learning to take their punches and reply honestly when I need to.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
in fact, i did write a poem today...
which i will post everywhere. even if it is crap.
I wear brokenness around my neck –
It's a green scarf with stripes- tattered but still fashionable.
I hide myself in it to keep from sudden exposure
To the crashing sky that breathes
Heavy, knockyaover winds
I carry brokenness with me
Slung upon one aching shoulder
- a quilted bag, each patch telling
stories of a place once strange to me.
stories I have chosen to forget.
I punch brokenness through the holes in my body
The black and white half moons dangle,
dragging my ears down with their weight
But vain beauty keeps them there all day.
My brokenness attracts other people.
The vivid colors, intricate patterns
Sometimes begs the question-
"Where did you get it?"
I am hesitant to reply. I don't want to brag.
As I stutter the place's name I still sound
Exotic. Lovely. Noble.
I am not those things.
I do not know why I choose to wear these pieces.
Especially when it relates to a place I'd care not
To re-visit. Perhaps because I can only be
At least a shadow of the girl I once was. But each
Accessory has brought the demise of that form of me.
I can't look back. Not even with the reminders.
I wear my brokenness as novelty now-
paraded with pride, people mistaking it with loveliness.
In private, I notice the scheme but
It's the only way it will fit.
cannot serve two masters
When I consider my current options and what I want to do, I cannot help but feel a little burdened.
I know I need to make money right now. I have bills to pay. I have college loans and a car lease.
But I don't want the rat race. I don't wanna be another fighting commuter and spend hours in a car each day. I don't want to live in a suburb where I drive at least 30 minutes to do most things I like to do. I don't want a job that overloads with me with work til I burn out completely.
I want to: live near my work, have enough free time to generously my time up, live in community, learn how to garden, be able to walk/bike everywhere, not feel so burdened by money, have adventures, have purpose, not want for anything.
I want to work for a church or para-organization. But how much do they pay? Not enough.
But then I am simply thinking about this in human terms. Doesn't God promise if we seek his kingdom, he will provide? I am so quick to doubt. So quick to worry about money and security (something I never thought I'd be worried about).
Part of me wants to move out of Northern Virginia very badly. But I am too scared to leave. Too scared to try to make it on my own without first having a full-salaried job. I am complacent and stuck, and maybe even a little lazy.
You cannot serve both God and money.
I know I need to make money right now. I have bills to pay. I have college loans and a car lease.
But I don't want the rat race. I don't wanna be another fighting commuter and spend hours in a car each day. I don't want to live in a suburb where I drive at least 30 minutes to do most things I like to do. I don't want a job that overloads with me with work til I burn out completely.
I want to: live near my work, have enough free time to generously my time up, live in community, learn how to garden, be able to walk/bike everywhere, not feel so burdened by money, have adventures, have purpose, not want for anything.
I want to work for a church or para-organization. But how much do they pay? Not enough.
But then I am simply thinking about this in human terms. Doesn't God promise if we seek his kingdom, he will provide? I am so quick to doubt. So quick to worry about money and security (something I never thought I'd be worried about).
Part of me wants to move out of Northern Virginia very badly. But I am too scared to leave. Too scared to try to make it on my own without first having a full-salaried job. I am complacent and stuck, and maybe even a little lazy.
You cannot serve both God and money.
on my writing block
Anyone who reads my blog might assume I am depressed most of the time, going from highs to lows- but that's just what gets recorded. My blog entries are the edited clips of my life. Most of the time I am rather mellow and complacent. Though, it's easy for me drop fast. But then again, I am a writer.
I don't know what the deal is about the link between the ability to write and one's mental health. I love reading author biographies in the Norton Anthologies I had in school. They all seemed to end up with some futile, hopeless fate. They get severely depressed and throw themself into a river; they are sick of society's restrictions and decide a pill overdose will release them from their marital problems; they become chronic alcoholics and can never seem to find a fulfilling relationship.
I guess I dwell on all of this to admit that I'm scared of writing. I've not written a story or a poem in a matter of months. I keep wondering what aside from laziness is keeping me from my craft.I write to tell the truth. And the truth is often depressing as hell.
Some writers can write depressing stories of life's truthful pains and somehow sound irreverent. One can read it, sorta feel bad, but all at the same time, draw a wicked smile out of the story. I guess that's why I am so drawn to black comedy. That's why I'm so prone to sarcasm and cynicism.But even that is self-defeating. And people don't often read sarcasm in my stories, they read the defeat. Even though I have a distinct capability to stay irreverent in my verbal interactions, it does not translate into my writing.Is it from being just an amateur writer, or is it just not who I really am?
The truth is this: I am unlike those writers who bestowed wicked fates upon themselves. I have hope. Yes, I am mildly depressed, but out of the cracks that run through me, there's light that can't wait to tear through. Light hurts. I don't know how much people realize that when contrasting light and darkness. Darkness is comfortable. It hurts a lot more to sit with the lights shining bright on you. It's exposing. Christians are representations of Christ's light. I am a Christian. Yet I am sitting here, in a dim lit room, all too comfortable where I am.
A lot of writers dwell in darkness the whole time. That's why I cannot read a lot of writers I want to read and I cannot write a whole lot right now. Only a certain amount of darkness is comfortable for me. Any more will swallow me whole.The real challenge is how can I be a writer who dwells in light? Wouldn't I rather be that? Wouldn't that be less life-draining and more life-giving? Wouldn't that remove the cliche of becoming a hopelessly depressed writer with nothing but haze in front of them?
I used to do it. My most inspired times of writing have resulted outof very intimate quiet times hearing from God. But I haven't had it for awhile. So all I can offer my pages is quiet hollowness and doubt.
I've been avoiding writing while simultaneously avoiding my relationship with my Creator, who helps me create. It's time to embrace both. It's time to sit in some light.
I don't know what the deal is about the link between the ability to write and one's mental health. I love reading author biographies in the Norton Anthologies I had in school. They all seemed to end up with some futile, hopeless fate. They get severely depressed and throw themself into a river; they are sick of society's restrictions and decide a pill overdose will release them from their marital problems; they become chronic alcoholics and can never seem to find a fulfilling relationship.
I guess I dwell on all of this to admit that I'm scared of writing. I've not written a story or a poem in a matter of months. I keep wondering what aside from laziness is keeping me from my craft.I write to tell the truth. And the truth is often depressing as hell.
Some writers can write depressing stories of life's truthful pains and somehow sound irreverent. One can read it, sorta feel bad, but all at the same time, draw a wicked smile out of the story. I guess that's why I am so drawn to black comedy. That's why I'm so prone to sarcasm and cynicism.But even that is self-defeating. And people don't often read sarcasm in my stories, they read the defeat. Even though I have a distinct capability to stay irreverent in my verbal interactions, it does not translate into my writing.Is it from being just an amateur writer, or is it just not who I really am?
The truth is this: I am unlike those writers who bestowed wicked fates upon themselves. I have hope. Yes, I am mildly depressed, but out of the cracks that run through me, there's light that can't wait to tear through. Light hurts. I don't know how much people realize that when contrasting light and darkness. Darkness is comfortable. It hurts a lot more to sit with the lights shining bright on you. It's exposing. Christians are representations of Christ's light. I am a Christian. Yet I am sitting here, in a dim lit room, all too comfortable where I am.
A lot of writers dwell in darkness the whole time. That's why I cannot read a lot of writers I want to read and I cannot write a whole lot right now. Only a certain amount of darkness is comfortable for me. Any more will swallow me whole.The real challenge is how can I be a writer who dwells in light? Wouldn't I rather be that? Wouldn't that be less life-draining and more life-giving? Wouldn't that remove the cliche of becoming a hopelessly depressed writer with nothing but haze in front of them?
I used to do it. My most inspired times of writing have resulted outof very intimate quiet times hearing from God. But I haven't had it for awhile. So all I can offer my pages is quiet hollowness and doubt.
I've been avoiding writing while simultaneously avoiding my relationship with my Creator, who helps me create. It's time to embrace both. It's time to sit in some light.
I almost wrote a poem today
Sometimes you can distance yourself from something for such a long time, that you forget how to reconnect.
For example, today I had a very big poetic thought. It was very vivid and almost inspirational, but once I got it on paper, the idea flopped. I need to re-visit it. Re-visiting is the only way to get over this slump.
I was at an advent gathering, and we had some quiet time to reflect on peace (because the candle of peace got lit today). I wrote out some of the things I needed peace over. As I was doing this and reflecting on my woes, I looked back on myself. I've been wearing a whole lot of stuff I acquired in Kenya lately. I find that interesting because Kenya broke me a lot, and it's like I'm wearing my brokenness. So the poem's about wearing your brokeness around your neck, slung on your shoulders and various other things, but I just don't know how to connect that back to Kenya in the poem. I don't know how to complete the metaphor.
Maybe I need to read some Billy Collins- he's not overly concerned about making the language overly elegant- he speaks in very down to earth, everyday terms that somehow connect beautifully. Maybe after reading other poems, I can sit down and write.
For example, today I had a very big poetic thought. It was very vivid and almost inspirational, but once I got it on paper, the idea flopped. I need to re-visit it. Re-visiting is the only way to get over this slump.
I was at an advent gathering, and we had some quiet time to reflect on peace (because the candle of peace got lit today). I wrote out some of the things I needed peace over. As I was doing this and reflecting on my woes, I looked back on myself. I've been wearing a whole lot of stuff I acquired in Kenya lately. I find that interesting because Kenya broke me a lot, and it's like I'm wearing my brokenness. So the poem's about wearing your brokeness around your neck, slung on your shoulders and various other things, but I just don't know how to connect that back to Kenya in the poem. I don't know how to complete the metaphor.
Maybe I need to read some Billy Collins- he's not overly concerned about making the language overly elegant- he speaks in very down to earth, everyday terms that somehow connect beautifully. Maybe after reading other poems, I can sit down and write.
Friday, November 28, 2008
idols
I can't control anything that I want to happen in my life...even if I try to put myself in the "right place at the right time." That usually never turns out.
But still, how can I juggle the concepts that 1) I cannot put something in my own hands or on the other hand, 2) if I want something I just gotta put myself out there?
How much do they conflict? and how much do they intersect?
I think prayer is necessary. Ask God. After that, follows the action. God wants us to ask and he wants us to take risks. But taking a risk without prayer is just foolishness.
Risks without prayer turn those things you want into idols. I have one too many idols...it's time to sit before my father in heaven.
But still, how can I juggle the concepts that 1) I cannot put something in my own hands or on the other hand, 2) if I want something I just gotta put myself out there?
How much do they conflict? and how much do they intersect?
I think prayer is necessary. Ask God. After that, follows the action. God wants us to ask and he wants us to take risks. But taking a risk without prayer is just foolishness.
Risks without prayer turn those things you want into idols. I have one too many idols...it's time to sit before my father in heaven.
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