Thursday, September 24, 2009

slivers

Today…

I read about Jesus and the masses. He was tired and frustrated, yet filled with compassion for the people who sought him. I am tired today, and mildly frustrated, and thankful that Christ in me can fill me with compassion for those who come across my path.

I drove one exit too far to go to work so that I could turn around and drive into the sunrise for a bit, and the rings of my eyes turned gold for a moment.

Javier, a ten year old boy, came in to take his medicine. I asked him how his birthday was- he turned ten on Monday. He told me they didn’t do anything for his birthday. I asked him if he got any gifts, and he said no, that his mom said they don’t have enough money this year. I nodded and hugged him. Inside I wished I could buy him anything he ever wanted. Instead, I told him I had met some children his age this summer who lived in orphanages, and who didn’t know when their birthdays were. We talked about how good it is to share with those who don’t have, and he perked up and ran to class.

On a lighter note… The headmaster of my school brought in a premature, tiny baby possum, with no fur or eyes.

I’ve had China stuck in my head all day long. Yes, the country. I don’t pretend I can contain it all, but I’ll be answering the phone, or handing out a tardy slip, and all the sudden I’m sitting on the roof eating sushi, or laughing at the Chinese air conditioning system (which for our city, meant men pulling up their shirts to let their bellies hang out), or near-fainting at the magnitude of the city apartments.

Slivers... so far.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The. Fall.

I think I've figured it out. The new winds that I'm breathing have come from far away, in the Rocky Mountains and perhaps even the Himalaya's, and they smell like newness and depth and I can't help but feel I should follow them. Every fall I feel that if I knelt down and then jumped high enough I'd simply fly away. Every fall I cry for beauty and changing leaves, and I live in DALLAS. It's probably God's grace that I have never made it to New England in the fall (though I check flight prices daily). I think I might faint for beauty. And it's God's grace that fall dies into Christmas, because I love twinkling lights and warm drinks and red cheeked children and soft sweaters. So I don't think to mourn the fall until the Spring, but then people are always falling in love all around me, and that drama keeps me too busy to think about weather until the time change, and I love the time change. Pretty soon school lets out and then everyone can take a deep breath and rest in the water, and travel to see family and go on mission trips, which makes summer quite... a delight.

The only reason I'm gushing like this about the seasons is because it is the fall. If you cut me, I think I'd bleed apple cider.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Cheerios and Sunsets

The recent gray skies and fall breeze have been sending nostalgic whispers to tease me. I say tease because I can’t catch them. One will jump up out of nowhere, kiss me, and I’ll sit, frozen, trying to hold on to the memory, the feeling, the scent or longing from the past.

It’s been happening all the time, and without warning. Today my banana tasted like the ones I used to eat in my cheerios. I chewed slowly and closed my eyes, back at the kitchen table with my sisters, in our pajamas on a slower day.

And I remembered being whisked away from school by my mom, for orthodontist appointments, optometrist appointments, what have you. I loved those days, not just because I got out of school, but because it would be me and mom, for a while. I’d want to freeze time driving in her car, sitting with her in the lounge, too young and too in the moment to be aware of the magic she held over me.

Every year autumn's breath wakes me up, alerting me to the beauty my friends, the grace of women who let their hair gray, the speed at which I’ve been running, the joy of holding coffee in my mouth a little bit longer before swallowing.

Yesterday I biked around the lake, and then sat to watch the sunset. I prayed and listened, and while we talked God wove a sunset so glorious I wanted to shift from a sitting position to a kneeling position. But if people noticed then I wouldn’t be invisible anymore, and I desperately wanted to be invisible. I was talking to God about all sorts of things, but soon He hushed me with a slow reaching of sun rays to water, and all I could say was, “Beautiful.”

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

How are you?

This morning a slightly chubby boy walked in twenty minutes late to school. I handed him a tardy and asked how he was. He answered, “I found two locusts at my dad’s house. They’re dead.” We looked at each other in mutual pensive respect for the dead locusts, and he went on his way.

I wonder what would happen if adults started answering the question, “How are you?” with a little more spunk?

Thursday, September 03, 2009

The frame and a snapshot

When I haven’t written for a long time, it’s difficult to know where to start. Do I start in theory land, in what God is teaching me, rolling out, revealing about his world and himself? Or do I start in practical land and tell you stories? Even now as I write, I haven’t decided.

I’ll start with the frame, and then paint the picture. I came back from Ethiopia and ran, into a new apartment, a new job, a bit of a new life. I have eleven hours left in my degree, and am taking six right now. Lord willing, I’ll take five in the spring, and then graduate in May. I work as a receptionist at West Dallas Community School, a private Christian school in a historically underprivileged area of Dallas. The mission of the School is:

“to provide students with a challenging educational experience designed to help them know, love, and practice that which is true, good, and excellent and to prepare them to live purposefully and intelligently in the service of God and man.”

The school is a calm and peaceful place in the midst of a dangerous neighborhood. It is part of a West Dallas Initiative to bring redemption and hope to families in the area. Less than two percent of adults in this zip code have gone to college, and for many of the children, college seems like an impossible goal. The school is funded by generous donors who are committed to giving their money to eternal things.

Within the year, they want to hire someone from the community to serve as a receptionist, but haven’t found the right person yet. I needed a job like this for a year to help me pay for school and life until I graduate, so on both ends it works very well. I love the mission of the school and the people I get to be around. On very hard days at my job (and there have already been plenty) I am reminded of how God blazed a path ahead of me to put me here, and how He will sustain me to do what He’s asked me to do.

I take classes at DTS at night. Not shockingly, I love them, and find myself energized by being able to learn about the reality of God and the way the world works. But I also can barely keep my eyes open once I get home at night.

This is the frame of my life, if you will. But the picture changes every day as I walk around within the borders God seems to have set for me. Today, into my frame, walked a woman whose nieces go to West Dallas School. They live with her because their mother does not want them. After a year and a half in foster care, this woman took them in even though she can barely afford to take care of her own children. She sat at the front desk and told me their story. Her niece is in Pre-K and has been sent home most days because of acting up, but this little girl has had more trauma in her life than most of us will ever experience. She is handicapped due to her mother allowing a fever to persist for two weeks before going to the doctor, and doesn’t trust a single adult in her young life. My keyboard was soon wet with tears, and I promised to pray for her.

I hate some of the things I saw in Ethiopia and some of the things I see here. But that makes sense, according to the Bible, doesn't it? This world is broken, and we who wish to give our lives away as He gave His know that there is nothing better than to Love Him and to Love others. To give ourselves away, and to be a part of making things right. More thoughts to come. Be blessed.