Deb heard about the women's center from our mutual beloved Michelle Trehey. This amazing Wisconsin warrior had never met me, never been to San Francisco - but she single-handedly sewed about 12 beautiful, iridescent and fire-colored worship flags for the women of The Well (our BJM women's center has a name!) to use. I brought them, in their beautiful carrying case, across the country in my trusty-but-crammed toyota (along with another 8 "timbrels" she also made - rings that hold lengths of brightly-colored ribbon or tinsel...when you wave them, they're like shining rainbows!).
Wednesday, they arrived "home" to the BJM women's center. Our staff women unpacked them. Ooooohs and Aaaahs everywhere. "Gold....what does the color gold mean?" (purification, abundance)
Then, someone said, "This one looks like fire! We want fire! Let me have the fire one!" Everyone began to wave flags. Blue symbolizes revelation. Red, redemption and both orange and red are fire colors. (God's heart is ON FIRE for the Tenderloin!) Green....new life, growth, creation....White for purity and being washed clean and made whole. Purple is royalty. I can't remember what silver symbolizes...except that it's shiny and beautiful!
Lindsay took her flag out on the sidewalk. I joined her as children from the local school walked by on the way to the playground. The big kids laughed and passed under the flags like a parade. "Flags...wave them at me!!!" they yelled. The little guys were scared and moved closer to their teachers. So, we said, "They're just pretty flags. We won't wave them at you. You can just look." So, we waved tham toward the street and the little guys passed by...not exactly convinced, but not frightened either.
Why flags, you might wonder? WHAT are they doing waving flags at people? (and what does this have to do with God and the Tenderloin???)
Today at church, a guest speaker spoke about leading a team of worship folks into a garbage dump in Romania where violence is an every-day, everywhere occurrence. He referred to battles in the Old Testament. When God sent Joshua to conquer a city called Jericho, he was told to send the worshipers and musicians first, followed by the warriors.
"Let's see," the speaker said. "They've got AK-47s and bullets and we've got harmonicas, tamborines and a bunch of dancers waving flags." Yep. The battle for the garbage dump was ushered in by dancers waving flags! (now, all we need are harmonicas and tamborines....).
Worship establishes the atmosphere. It says, "This is who we are. Our beautiful God owns this place - not the drug dealers on every corner or the pimps or the massage parlor owners. Our God. The God who loves. He has already conquered these streets. And, He is so unafraid of evil that he sends us - the flag-wavers - to lead the troops.
I was thinking of all of you reading this. You might be fortunate enough to be part of a flag-waving, dancing, worshiping church. You may want to go out a find one out of sheer curiosity (or because you wonder if I'm running on all pistons out here or what....). You may be perfectly happy without the whole flag business. But, know this. When you worship our beautiful Jesus, your heart is like a banner. Like a flag waving in front of the world. Your heart-flag declares one thing we know is always true - here in the Tenderloin or at City Church where Deb and Michelle wave their own flags :).....or wherever you are.....that God IS. That God loves. That He has already won the battle and everything - the cities and the streets and every small town. Every human being is carried in His heart.
So, tomorrow, I'm going to pass out flyers for Nail Day (YEAH....my first Nail Day back in SF!). And, I'm going to be praying as I go...."How beautiful your street is, God.....How beautiful your daughters are, Father. How blue your sky is. How amazing your people are.....How much you love the 'other' dancers in the strip clubs....." And, I'll be waving my heart-flag everywhere.
PS: Yep, we'll definitely take those flags to the street! I'll let you know how it goes!
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
California, Comin' Home
On the morning of the 15th, I got in my car....loaded to the gills with clothes, kitchen stuff, guitar, rug, vacuum, worship flags, art, more kitchen stuff, miscellaneous more stuff....ready to start my San Francisco "thelma and Louise" car trip.
Punched the cd player on. The night before I'd dug out an old Joni Mitchell cd...and that morning...the first song to play was "California, Comin' Home."
I laughed. A lot. I sang along. I loved this whole God adventure musical accompaniment.
During the 6 days on the road, I started each day singing California, Comin' Home. I honestly felt as if I were leaving home to GO home.
My strategy for lodging was to decide each night how far I wanted to drive the next day. Figure out what town/city is nearest and go to Trip Advisor to weed out the really ghastly places. My trigger words were "clean and cheap." One place wasn't really clean. Another wasn't exactly cheap. But, in general I stayed in smallish, retro motels in smallish, never-left-retro towns. Evanston, Wyoming has a lovely little strip motel run by a family. The mom said "if we ever don't need the motel to make money, I'd like to turn it into housing for single, pregnant teenagers....somebody has to help them out."
This beautiful woman was once a teen mom herself. She married her high school sweetheart (who still runs the motel with her). Now, she and her ginormous black and white cats welcome tired travelers. You can request "breakfast in a basket"....homemade muffins and coffee. Her heart is big and open!
Came in on Sunday night and stayed with Becky and Alex in their cute, little house in Pacifica (about 25 minutes south of San Francisco) you can see the ocean from their living room window. Met their new puppy, Sierra. Slept like a rock and spent Monday unpacking storage items from the car, playing with Sierra and generally vegging around.
Today, I headed into the city. My faithful GPS knew what to do, so I wove my way from highway to highway and found my self headed toward Ellis Street. Counting the blocks. My heart was beating and I actually said out loud "Almost there! Almost there." I thought - this is SO good!! I can't wait.
Of course, in my mind Joni Mitchell was singing, "California...California, comin' home...gonna see the folks I dig, I'd even kiss a Sunset pig...California, comin' home."
Drove up to the YWAM base. A kid from the Los Angeles "Skaters" Discipleship Training School stood on the sidewalk, holding his skateboard, and talking with some of the neighborhood guys. The Because Justice Matters women bowled me over with welcome hugs (these are the folks I dig....). Helped me unload. And unload. And unload.
Now, pretty much flattened at about 8 pm. Unpacked, settled, sorted, and organized for about 7 straight hours. I hurt all over and it looks like I gave away my silverware to somebody in Wisconsin....cause it isn't here!
but, here I am. My room has BEAUTIFUL wood flooring. I just made a cup of tea in my settled-in little kitchen and hung my "big bag" car top carrier in the shower to get the salt off tomorrow morning. Everything is good.
I am home. My heart is home. My body is chilling and ready to sleep. Joni Mitchell is singing somewhere in the gerbil wheel of my brain.
Punched the cd player on. The night before I'd dug out an old Joni Mitchell cd...and that morning...the first song to play was "California, Comin' Home."
I laughed. A lot. I sang along. I loved this whole God adventure musical accompaniment.
During the 6 days on the road, I started each day singing California, Comin' Home. I honestly felt as if I were leaving home to GO home.
My strategy for lodging was to decide each night how far I wanted to drive the next day. Figure out what town/city is nearest and go to Trip Advisor to weed out the really ghastly places. My trigger words were "clean and cheap." One place wasn't really clean. Another wasn't exactly cheap. But, in general I stayed in smallish, retro motels in smallish, never-left-retro towns. Evanston, Wyoming has a lovely little strip motel run by a family. The mom said "if we ever don't need the motel to make money, I'd like to turn it into housing for single, pregnant teenagers....somebody has to help them out."
This beautiful woman was once a teen mom herself. She married her high school sweetheart (who still runs the motel with her). Now, she and her ginormous black and white cats welcome tired travelers. You can request "breakfast in a basket"....homemade muffins and coffee. Her heart is big and open!
Came in on Sunday night and stayed with Becky and Alex in their cute, little house in Pacifica (about 25 minutes south of San Francisco) you can see the ocean from their living room window. Met their new puppy, Sierra. Slept like a rock and spent Monday unpacking storage items from the car, playing with Sierra and generally vegging around.
Today, I headed into the city. My faithful GPS knew what to do, so I wove my way from highway to highway and found my self headed toward Ellis Street. Counting the blocks. My heart was beating and I actually said out loud "Almost there! Almost there." I thought - this is SO good!! I can't wait.
Of course, in my mind Joni Mitchell was singing, "California...California, comin' home...gonna see the folks I dig, I'd even kiss a Sunset pig...California, comin' home."
Drove up to the YWAM base. A kid from the Los Angeles "Skaters" Discipleship Training School stood on the sidewalk, holding his skateboard, and talking with some of the neighborhood guys. The Because Justice Matters women bowled me over with welcome hugs (these are the folks I dig....). Helped me unload. And unload. And unload.
Now, pretty much flattened at about 8 pm. Unpacked, settled, sorted, and organized for about 7 straight hours. I hurt all over and it looks like I gave away my silverware to somebody in Wisconsin....cause it isn't here!
but, here I am. My room has BEAUTIFUL wood flooring. I just made a cup of tea in my settled-in little kitchen and hung my "big bag" car top carrier in the shower to get the salt off tomorrow morning. Everything is good.
I am home. My heart is home. My body is chilling and ready to sleep. Joni Mitchell is singing somewhere in the gerbil wheel of my brain.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
STUFF!
now, it's about stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I need and stuff I don't. Stuff somebody else can use and stuff nobody wants - not even me!
I thought I'd pared things down when I moved to my apartment in 2011. Last Friday the POD people rumbled up to the parking lot of a consignment furniture store here in Madison. My friends helping me drag stuff to the shop, to their various trucks, van and cars. Some sold, some given and some kept. Now, I have a boxes and boxes in another friend's garage. Making sub-piles....give to somebody special, donate, mail, and "will it fit in the Camry?" I mailed 13 boxes of books (THIRTEEN???? what do I think I am, the public library?) Another 3 donated and all my old books and materials from my "past life" as a storyteller are now happily living at a couple of area schools.
All this is rearranging my head significantly. Can I feel sad about the lovely home I created in my first-ever living alone apartment AND feel free and happy to see things falling away? I sit for long minutes thinking "Can I fit these coffee mugs in the car?" and "Do I really need 15 coffee mugs?" Which to leave behind? Which sweet memories to take? (Whoops....16 mugs...a new friend just gave me one of her hand-thrown beauties so I'd remember her and her big heart while I'm in SF).
It is like dividing up pieces of my life. Christmas decorations from years of celebration with my family. Pots and pans used to cook meals for friends I love. Dishes I picked myself and the wealth of mugs....all memories of hours and hours of laughter and talk with be-loved people My good old college graduation present to myself guitar invites me to worship and sing. Worship flags made specially for the women's center by loving hands here... Two Norwegian ski sweaters - one knit by my mom and another by my host mother in Norway. Both mothers gone now. Yes, I will keep the sweaters though I may never wear them.
Some things go so easily. Other things cling to my heart. My memory. I will probably try to take too many things to San Francisco. I have a single room and a shelf or two of storage space at Becky and Alex's in Pacifica. I don't need the 16 mugs. Or the hand-blown glass globe I bought at Madison's Art Fair on the Square one summer. But I will keep them. Perhaps they are waiting for another time. Another "letting go" to find other homes. Or, they will make this journey with me.
I thought I'd pared things down when I moved to my apartment in 2011. Last Friday the POD people rumbled up to the parking lot of a consignment furniture store here in Madison. My friends helping me drag stuff to the shop, to their various trucks, van and cars. Some sold, some given and some kept. Now, I have a boxes and boxes in another friend's garage. Making sub-piles....give to somebody special, donate, mail, and "will it fit in the Camry?" I mailed 13 boxes of books (THIRTEEN???? what do I think I am, the public library?) Another 3 donated and all my old books and materials from my "past life" as a storyteller are now happily living at a couple of area schools.
All this is rearranging my head significantly. Can I feel sad about the lovely home I created in my first-ever living alone apartment AND feel free and happy to see things falling away? I sit for long minutes thinking "Can I fit these coffee mugs in the car?" and "Do I really need 15 coffee mugs?" Which to leave behind? Which sweet memories to take? (Whoops....16 mugs...a new friend just gave me one of her hand-thrown beauties so I'd remember her and her big heart while I'm in SF).
It is like dividing up pieces of my life. Christmas decorations from years of celebration with my family. Pots and pans used to cook meals for friends I love. Dishes I picked myself and the wealth of mugs....all memories of hours and hours of laughter and talk with be-loved people My good old college graduation present to myself guitar invites me to worship and sing. Worship flags made specially for the women's center by loving hands here... Two Norwegian ski sweaters - one knit by my mom and another by my host mother in Norway. Both mothers gone now. Yes, I will keep the sweaters though I may never wear them.
Some things go so easily. Other things cling to my heart. My memory. I will probably try to take too many things to San Francisco. I have a single room and a shelf or two of storage space at Becky and Alex's in Pacifica. I don't need the 16 mugs. Or the hand-blown glass globe I bought at Madison's Art Fair on the Square one summer. But I will keep them. Perhaps they are waiting for another time. Another "letting go" to find other homes. Or, they will make this journey with me.
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