Rewind

Thought about it...think I need to clarify. When I say enjoy life, I meant enjoy our relationship with God. We are supposed to yearn for God...I know when my Grampa was about to die, he was ready. "I'm done being here. I'm ready to go home." I think most of you know me enough to know what I meant, but there you go.

We complain too much.

I am a part of a church called Vintage Faith. The name is new, but really, I've been gathering with this group off and on since I was fifteen (when it began as "Graceland".) We are now talking about the common misrepresentations we give to the world as those who claim to follow Christ. It's basically family meeting kinda stuff. After talking with different folks here in Santa Cruz, a consensus has been made: "Christians complain too much." Hmmm. I search myself. Wow, I needed to hear that one.

I have to be honest, I kind of like to bitch. Maybe that's why I have this blog :) Sometimes I need to get things off my chest. (Writing a post is not always the best way to do this and I promptly erase posts that I feel are too negative). But...sometimes I'm going through hard times and I need encouragement from other believers. There is a fine line between needing encouragement and prayer during trials and constantly being stuck with a crappy attitude...The church has gone to two different extremes, the: everything's fine. Jesus is great. (But really, I have some stuff hiding under the surface that I wouldn't like to share. What would you think of me? What kind of Christian leader would I be?) THIS IS NOT OKAY.

The other extreme: Life just sucks. I have been so faithful, why don't I see the fruit? Why am I still in the valley? or Why am I still in the storm? or I just want to get married. then I just want to have kids. eventually, I am sick of getting old...why can't I just die now so I can be with Jesus?

Why don't Christians enjoy life? I am speaking to myself, because too often I slip into whiner mode, while at the same time I sing...and all I have in You, is more than enough.

When we don't read our Bible or spend time with Him, it's so easy to forget His goodness. We focus on what we think we deserve. Bottom line (and don't take this as self-loathing) we deserve to die. We are not entitled to anything...yet He gives. Yet He blesses. He extends His hand to us over and over again...and is there with us in the valley and in the storm and in our lonliness. Sometimes we need to cry out to Him. Sometimes He will put another believer in our life to comfort us through hard times. But other times...we need to take the focus off of ourself. If not, then once we get what it is that we think will satisfy our lives, we want something else. The sense of ENTITLEMENT is quite the American epidemic, isn't it?

I want people to see the beauty of Christ in me...and want that for their own life. I know it comes from a grateful heart.

One-fourth

Here's a poem:

Same time, same place

Another autumn morning on the street where I work
Every building exactly the same
towering sterile and cold with a single window that is also a door

Which building will I enter today?

This one has a doorway made just for me, though I have to turn sideways and hold my breath in anticipation for I know what's next...

Upon entering I feel my body being pulled by gravity to a shallow pile of others just like me

I feel the room start to shake.
Gently at first, then quite violently as our thin bodies are jostled about
into each other causing the greatest racket

I smell the faint memories of bleach and suds

An abrupt silence.
Our pile is interrupted with the startling silver splash of others landing on top of us
Ten more had burst through the narrow doorway
Oh! there's my friend,

"Hello Kansas." "Hello Maine. Hey, who's that?" "Oh...must be a new one." "Oh."

The low hum signals the commencement of the next series of shakes. Kansas is caught off guard as his body is hurled into mine.

The monotonous cycle repeats itself;
Over and over, multiple times, until it's time to clock in.

I hear the key turn, and a welcomed shaft of light pours in through the back door. We are gathered into a sack and go on our way home, without a word between us. We are quite tired from such a long day of activity. Snugly we are tucked side by side into our paper beds...

and we dream we are cast into the pocket of a weary customer who will trade us in for an ice cream, or something. Anything to get out of here...for we were made to travel

Same time same place

This is what I do when I wait for the clothes to dry at the laundromat. Maybe I should read like normal people.

Stuck in NeverNeverLand

So when is it that you officially become an adult? I feel like I've always been a kid, but I just keep getting older. By law it's when you're 18, but I think of the 18 year olds I know and think of myself when I was 18 and yeah, I don't think so! Is it when you graduate college? When you get a real job? Whatever that means. Why can't making coffee for people every day be a real job? It has the bad wrap of being the transitional job...something you do while you are preparing for something else. I miss those barista days so much...they were so much fun and you can go home and not have to think about work when you're not there. So do you suddenly become an adult when you get married? I have to admit, my sister acts more like an adult now. She fits the profile: homeowner, high-paying job, gets up early in the morning, makes dinner every day. Subscibes to Family Circle and shops at Coscos. I know its all a matter of perception. The kids call me Miss Young and its really wierd because I don't feel like a Miss anything. I feel like I am really kicking and screaming this adult thingy. I want to listen to my music, buy clothes in the kids section of Target, stay out late at night and never have a mortgage. But then sometimes there is something really attractive about not living at my Dad's house anymore, buying pretty dinnerware and having a real job...whatever that means. I am so close to having my credentials and I am so excited. I've worked so hard for this and I am realizing more and more that this is what I was created for. I couldn't really think of a better job for me. And being a teacher does not necessarily tie me down...I can teach in Zimbabwe if I wanted to. It's probably one of the most flexible jobs there is. Please excuse all the stereotypes. I know all too well I'm an adult...I'll be thirty in three years for crying out loud! And I know that my students need an "adult" if that means, someone who they feel safe with, someone who will care enough about them to give them guidelines...not the cool babysitter teacher. I realize the huge responsibility of teaching in the larger sense of the word...we are judged by higher standards. I embrace this because it reminds me that I cannot do it right without HIM as MY teacher. He has made me who I am. My own accomplishments are garbage in comparison to the work He has done in me. All that said, I better go jump in the shower, button up my collared shirt, throw on some slacks and go be an adult somewhere. We all know the truth...I'd rather be watching cartoons.