this weekend I put together a chair and ottoman from ikea. The pictures-only directions didn't help me much. There was muttering, outcries, and a couple of less-than-presentable terms used. In the end, I did what I didn't think the directions were saying and finally got the parts attached to the right other parts - facing the right directions. Now, Im sitting in this comfy chair with my feet up.
I ordered a twin mattress, bookshelf, and a second chair. Once the mattress arrived, I got rid of the full-sized bed that took up (no kidding) half my little room. Rolled out the beautiful wool rug I brought from madison. Some special items - beautiful cobalt blue glass balls in a bowl. An art tile of a woman with auburn hair. An earth-toned tray with beveled glass center. All these things now reside in my little space.
It is becoming a home. A safe place of r & r for me. A welcoming, warm place where my daughter Beth visited. We ate sushi and talked. Home.
I am so grateful for this place. I know God brought me here and I don't take it for granted that I have this space.
This month one of the women who comes to Nail Day every single week was in trouble. She was afraid she might harm herself and checked into a hospital. BJM staff were the people she listed as "emergency contacts" - she had no one else. BJM is her family. Her address? a shelter for women in the Tenderloin. This is one meaning of the word "homeless"....to be truly without a home. Someone else's address used as a temporary fill-in-the-blank for social services or medical providers.
Another woman showed up recently in San Francisco. She is paranoid, often roams from topic to topic in conversation, and seems "stuck" in painful memories of the past. Those memories are a kind of "home" for her. She returns to them when she feels afraid. She hopes that their resolution might stop the emotional pain. She comes to the women's center on Tuesday and Wednesday. To nail day every Monday. Because Justice Matters and the women's center has become a sanctuary for her. A home, of sorts.
Because Justice Matters isn't a "big result" program. Our numbers aren't large. Our impact is small and personal. It is all about relationships. One-on-one. Small groups seated around a table. 5 or 6 cups and a pot of hot coffee.
I want to learn how to open my heart to help create a home for women. To make space and time in my life for relationships that really mean something. That offer safety. Knowing and being known.
Relationships. Family. Home.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
wake my spirit!
What a week! Last week I was in Redding attending the international Sozo Summit, racing to spend a morning talking with Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry students about BJM and ministry in the Tenderloin. Then, more summit stuff and home to finish the week.
This week has been a front row seat to the amazing courage, dignity, and God-hunger of the women who come to BJM. A week when I feel honored to even be in the room!
The women who come to The Well are hungry to know God. 5 women came to our Wednesday bible study about domestic violence. Thursday 3 more came to a group called Breaking Free.
to hear these women share honestly about issues in their lives instead of hide those struggles to look good to others.
A isn't at all sure about Jesus. God....sort of. But Jesus? The jury is still out. Yet, I heard A pray for another woman with such compassion and gentleness and TRUST in God. A gathered faith from every corner of the heart to say "God, here's my friend. She needs a miracle. You are the only one we can trust."
I feel like Im in the school of "I can't' much of the time. Where, if God doesn't show up and keep His promises, I am helpless to make any difference. I often feel as if I'm closing my eyes and saying, "God, I'm trusting you here...." The women I'm supposed to be "helping" then are the ones who affirm that God can be counted on. That nothing is too hard for him.
Early in the week, J feared she might harm herself. She did exactly the right thing - and BJM received a call saying she was safe but pretty fragile.
When LIndsay and Lisa went to visit J wanted prayer. She wanted God to help with nightmares and PTSD flashbacks. And, this courageous little person willingly forgave someone who hurt and harmed her terribly. The person responsible for those flashbacks and nightmares. God spoke so gently and with so much love right into the hurt and harm. Right into her wounded heart.
Another person has learned to listen to God in every situation. Week after week over coffee, S. has been practicing the discipline of saying, "Father, what do you say?.....What do you want me to know?" Choosing God's ways in small things and large. Choosing.....and changing.
An opportunity came suddenly to S. A sudden move now seemed possible. After waiting a long time to leave the Tenderloin for "something better....anything better...a healthy place full of healthy people..." S. really wanted to go. YWAM friends asked...are you going back to old patterns of impulsive decision making? But, S has changed SO much in the past year. S said, "I can do this. I've grown a lot. I'm not the person I was."
That is absolutely true. Yet, S was encouraged to "ask Dad" before making this major life decision.
Today I got a call. S. was at the door of the women's center. Could I talk a minute?
S.'s eyes filled with tears. S. spoke about the dream of leaving the Tenderloin and making a new life "someplace with clean streets and healthy people." The opportunity to relocate seemed perfect.
But, during the previous night, S said, "I saw Jesus. He took me into a little room and closed the door. He said, "We need to talk."
Jesus said, "Not now." He told S. that God could bless regardless of S's decision, but leaving now wasn't God's first choice.
S. confessed to feeling angry with God. Deeply sad. Afraid the dream might never happen.
And, I was filled with admiration and JOY as S said, "I am staying. I want God's best. I still feel angry and sad and disappointed. But I want God more."
S is becoming more and more like Jesus - who "only did what He saw His Father in heaven doing." J is becoming more like Jesus - forgiving even when the wrongdoer never apologized or even recognized the pain and harm they'd caused. Choosing to say, I forgive. A. keeps moving closer and closer to this beautiful, infinitely kind Jesus whose love and words are so challenging and off the charts. I believe her heart wants what her heart wants - And, in spite of all the avoiding and re-framing and trying to keep from loving Him, His love keeps drawing her back. Soon and very soon!
so. What a week in the TL. Outside the women's center, there was an awful fight that left pools of blood on the sidewalk. The long lines of elderly folks waiting for the Thursday food pantry are annoying the neighbors and creating a safety hazard. The police are annoyed. Rats got into the basement maintenance room. Yesterday, a disheveled man looked up from the sidewalk and smiled at me - just as he licked his skin (poor man's alcohol swab) and jabbed a needle into his arm. I saw a young woman standing next to her pimp. she rocked a stroller holding a sweet, round-faced baby named Rain . Jesus, come and save! You are our only hope!
And, meanwhile, A was praying with compassion. J was forgiving terrible wrongs. And S was choosing God even when every emotion was pain and loss.
LIke I said. This was a week of courage and beauty in the Tenderloin. I'm honored just being in the room!
This week has been a front row seat to the amazing courage, dignity, and God-hunger of the women who come to BJM. A week when I feel honored to even be in the room!
The women who come to The Well are hungry to know God. 5 women came to our Wednesday bible study about domestic violence. Thursday 3 more came to a group called Breaking Free.
to hear these women share honestly about issues in their lives instead of hide those struggles to look good to others.
A isn't at all sure about Jesus. God....sort of. But Jesus? The jury is still out. Yet, I heard A pray for another woman with such compassion and gentleness and TRUST in God. A gathered faith from every corner of the heart to say "God, here's my friend. She needs a miracle. You are the only one we can trust."
I feel like Im in the school of "I can't' much of the time. Where, if God doesn't show up and keep His promises, I am helpless to make any difference. I often feel as if I'm closing my eyes and saying, "God, I'm trusting you here...." The women I'm supposed to be "helping" then are the ones who affirm that God can be counted on. That nothing is too hard for him.
Early in the week, J feared she might harm herself. She did exactly the right thing - and BJM received a call saying she was safe but pretty fragile.
When LIndsay and Lisa went to visit J wanted prayer. She wanted God to help with nightmares and PTSD flashbacks. And, this courageous little person willingly forgave someone who hurt and harmed her terribly. The person responsible for those flashbacks and nightmares. God spoke so gently and with so much love right into the hurt and harm. Right into her wounded heart.
Another person has learned to listen to God in every situation. Week after week over coffee, S. has been practicing the discipline of saying, "Father, what do you say?.....What do you want me to know?" Choosing God's ways in small things and large. Choosing.....and changing.
An opportunity came suddenly to S. A sudden move now seemed possible. After waiting a long time to leave the Tenderloin for "something better....anything better...a healthy place full of healthy people..." S. really wanted to go. YWAM friends asked...are you going back to old patterns of impulsive decision making? But, S has changed SO much in the past year. S said, "I can do this. I've grown a lot. I'm not the person I was."
That is absolutely true. Yet, S was encouraged to "ask Dad" before making this major life decision.
Today I got a call. S. was at the door of the women's center. Could I talk a minute?
S.'s eyes filled with tears. S. spoke about the dream of leaving the Tenderloin and making a new life "someplace with clean streets and healthy people." The opportunity to relocate seemed perfect.
But, during the previous night, S said, "I saw Jesus. He took me into a little room and closed the door. He said, "We need to talk."
Jesus said, "Not now." He told S. that God could bless regardless of S's decision, but leaving now wasn't God's first choice.
S. confessed to feeling angry with God. Deeply sad. Afraid the dream might never happen.
And, I was filled with admiration and JOY as S said, "I am staying. I want God's best. I still feel angry and sad and disappointed. But I want God more."
S is becoming more and more like Jesus - who "only did what He saw His Father in heaven doing." J is becoming more like Jesus - forgiving even when the wrongdoer never apologized or even recognized the pain and harm they'd caused. Choosing to say, I forgive. A. keeps moving closer and closer to this beautiful, infinitely kind Jesus whose love and words are so challenging and off the charts. I believe her heart wants what her heart wants - And, in spite of all the avoiding and re-framing and trying to keep from loving Him, His love keeps drawing her back. Soon and very soon!
so. What a week in the TL. Outside the women's center, there was an awful fight that left pools of blood on the sidewalk. The long lines of elderly folks waiting for the Thursday food pantry are annoying the neighbors and creating a safety hazard. The police are annoyed. Rats got into the basement maintenance room. Yesterday, a disheveled man looked up from the sidewalk and smiled at me - just as he licked his skin (poor man's alcohol swab) and jabbed a needle into his arm. I saw a young woman standing next to her pimp. she rocked a stroller holding a sweet, round-faced baby named Rain . Jesus, come and save! You are our only hope!
And, meanwhile, A was praying with compassion. J was forgiving terrible wrongs. And S was choosing God even when every emotion was pain and loss.
LIke I said. This was a week of courage and beauty in the Tenderloin. I'm honored just being in the room!
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Send in the Flaggers
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!
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!
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.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
good bye is a hard word to say!
Having many one-on-one times over coffee, cupcakes, lunch, brunch and whatever else women think to do. Saying good-bye over and over to people I love. Friends. Colleagues. Clients. People who have come to "live" in every room in my relational house.
Grateful for friends. For the privilege of knowing so many women who should have books written about them. Last night, got to introduce two friends to each other - one, a gifted "D/C" on the DISC inventory. Successful executive. bringer-of-order-into-chaos. The other, an S/I on the same inventory is a bringer-of-life-and-joy into every situation. Like one of those folks who carries the Olympic torch from city to city, she carries HOPE and worship wherever she goes. Both women are single moms. Both raising beautiful, smart, creative children alone. Both are witnesses to me of the power of finding and being who you are. Of walking away from abuse into LIFE.
This was just the end of a single day of being amazed by the women I know. Talking with my friend-and-sister MaryBeth about an ever-expanding vision for using art to help people heal. Hearing my friend Donna talk about the book she's researching, writing, and illustrating. My beloved Lorita as she loves and enjoys two grandchildren who have autism challenges every single day! Then, updates from one friend who is creating a stunningly beautiful wedding venue out of her parents' old barn and another who is integrating healing prayer and "brain spotting" to help trauma survivors recover and replace painful memories with JOY.
Finally, hearing from the Because Justice Matters roaring lions (yep, they might look like beautiful, young, vibrant women....but really they are roaring lions in disguise)....that they sold 100 tickets to the women's center/BJM October 4th fundraiser in a single afternoon!
I want to rent a billboard that says "Hey, sisters. Take a LOOK at your friends. Just bask in the wonder of the women on your smart phone speed dial! Tell them how wonderful they are. How they have blessed and loved and helped to shape your heart and vision. Say thank you. Say "I love you!"
and to quote one of my favorite fictional characters, Chet-the-Jet, hero and point of view character of the not-exactly-cerebral but make-me-laugh Chet and Bernie mysteries...."Just when you think [your friend] can't be more amazing, [they] amaze you again!"
Grateful for friends. For the privilege of knowing so many women who should have books written about them. Last night, got to introduce two friends to each other - one, a gifted "D/C" on the DISC inventory. Successful executive. bringer-of-order-into-chaos. The other, an S/I on the same inventory is a bringer-of-life-and-joy into every situation. Like one of those folks who carries the Olympic torch from city to city, she carries HOPE and worship wherever she goes. Both women are single moms. Both raising beautiful, smart, creative children alone. Both are witnesses to me of the power of finding and being who you are. Of walking away from abuse into LIFE.
This was just the end of a single day of being amazed by the women I know. Talking with my friend-and-sister MaryBeth about an ever-expanding vision for using art to help people heal. Hearing my friend Donna talk about the book she's researching, writing, and illustrating. My beloved Lorita as she loves and enjoys two grandchildren who have autism challenges every single day! Then, updates from one friend who is creating a stunningly beautiful wedding venue out of her parents' old barn and another who is integrating healing prayer and "brain spotting" to help trauma survivors recover and replace painful memories with JOY.
Finally, hearing from the Because Justice Matters roaring lions (yep, they might look like beautiful, young, vibrant women....but really they are roaring lions in disguise)....that they sold 100 tickets to the women's center/BJM October 4th fundraiser in a single afternoon!
I want to rent a billboard that says "Hey, sisters. Take a LOOK at your friends. Just bask in the wonder of the women on your smart phone speed dial! Tell them how wonderful they are. How they have blessed and loved and helped to shape your heart and vision. Say thank you. Say "I love you!"
and to quote one of my favorite fictional characters, Chet-the-Jet, hero and point of view character of the not-exactly-cerebral but make-me-laugh Chet and Bernie mysteries...."Just when you think [your friend] can't be more amazing, [they] amaze you again!"
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Some people have asked how I feel about selling my furniture and moving to a single room in San Francisco. God is doing stuff, ya'll. The journey continues...
My friend Jen from YWAM San Francisco (and, in the past, a YWAM-er in Madison) said, "When you decide to do something you believe God wants but seems too big or too hard or....then you get to see God do miracles."
And, the wise and much beloved Bill Johnson (ibethel.org in case you are a newcomer to this amazing man and Bethel Church in Redding, CA) said, (in the words I sort of remember), "If you do what you can do, then you get what a human being can do. But, if you set your sights on the impossible, then you get what God can do."
This week wasn't impossible, but it sure has been sweet and filled with what God can do.
I'm going to return to the YWAM base in San Francisco. My personal living quarters there is a room with a small bath and kitchenette. Years ago, this building housed an SRO (single room occupancy) hotel for poor folks. Now, it houses YWAMers of all ages. Those YWAMers have sacrificed space (they all share rooms) so I can have my own room. I don't take that for granted!
Some people might look at the YWAM base as kind of dumpy. I think of it as "simple...well, maybe dumpy... and filled with amazing people and God." And, I don't ever want to forget that, outside that door, people sleep on concrete and under bridges and in cardboard boxes.
And, I know that I feel more peaceful and healthy when I'm in quiet, physically "nurturing" surroundings. Order. Peace. Beauty. All are important to me. So, where's the balance?
This is a particularly important question as I sell the furniture I bought to furnish my apartment. The first place I ever decorated (from scratch) for me. To meet my needs and create a safe, beautiful, nurturing environment. Now, storing the stuff makes no financial sense. I can take a few things, ship some, store a few precious items like my mom's china or a piece of art at a friend's home...but the rest must go. (any Madison-area peeps looking for some good quality, not-garage sale furniture? let me know)
So, what does stuff mean? What should be sold and the money used to do great stuff (like buy better hearing aids or get furniture in SF) ? What should I joyfully give away (so...if your unemployed friend needs a bed and you have one...what's the question here?). Thinking. Remembering Heidi Baker touching her head and saying "Smaller...." Then her heart and saying, "Bigger..." Smaller....bigger....smaller...bigger....
So, back to SF and the great moving adventure:
The carpeting in my room there is pretty bad (read: awful, moldy, weird and made my allergies stand up and scream). I knew it wasn't good for my health to be in the space. I also knew that YWAM had no money for upgrading the building (which they rent), so I asked the YWAM "management team" if I could pay to pull up the carpeting and replace it with laminate. "Sure." Great! I was happy...
Just as I left, the BJM director said she'd received an email from someone with extra wood flooring who wanted to know if they could donate it to the women's center. She hadn't replied yet - but had planned to say the flooring was already installed there and their kind offer wasn't needed. She said...who knows....maybe they'll donate it to YWAM specifically for your room!
Who knows? I didn't... because I returned to Madison the next day and haven't thought a lot about the whole thing.
But this past week I was looking at my budget. like "Okay, new hearing aids..$$$$, road trip costs $$...car insurance $...chiropractor for whatever I did to my shoulder and jaw $$....now...how much will the floor thing cost in SF?"
I wrote the BJM director, Ruthie, to ask whether that lovely person really did donate the flooring. And here's her reply, "Don't worry. Your flooring is being taken care of by us. You'll return to nice, new wood floors!"
Whoa! It's already done?!!! I don't have to do it? I was speechless. Then I laughed!
I feel loved and cared for! Honored and loved by the YWAM community there. I don't know who actually did the gross job of pulling up the moldy, dusty carpeting. I don't know who washed the years of filtered dust, mold and "stuff" from the sub flooring, hauled the wood upstairs, and did the labor of installing the floor. I'm imagining those wild, beautiful, Jesus-loving, visionary "kids" (as in I'm old enough to be the mom of about 90% of the YWAM San Francisco staff). What I don't have to imagine is the love.
The last thing I'm imagining is walking into that room, over and over and over. Seeing the lovely, clean wood floors...my beautiful small area rug with the deep, cobalt blue that matches the prophetic painting my friend Mary Ann did for me (gotta fit those two things in my car!) and a couple of comfy small "sit and talk" chairs. A little coffee table (cause you need coffee to talk, of course) and some of my beautiful art hanging and making things beautiful. I imagine thinking, "They did the floors just for me! Wow! God, you are so good....I feel so loved and taken care of."
My friend Jen from YWAM San Francisco (and, in the past, a YWAM-er in Madison) said, "When you decide to do something you believe God wants but seems too big or too hard or....then you get to see God do miracles."
And, the wise and much beloved Bill Johnson (ibethel.org in case you are a newcomer to this amazing man and Bethel Church in Redding, CA) said, (in the words I sort of remember), "If you do what you can do, then you get what a human being can do. But, if you set your sights on the impossible, then you get what God can do."
This week wasn't impossible, but it sure has been sweet and filled with what God can do.
I'm going to return to the YWAM base in San Francisco. My personal living quarters there is a room with a small bath and kitchenette. Years ago, this building housed an SRO (single room occupancy) hotel for poor folks. Now, it houses YWAMers of all ages. Those YWAMers have sacrificed space (they all share rooms) so I can have my own room. I don't take that for granted!
Some people might look at the YWAM base as kind of dumpy. I think of it as "simple...well, maybe dumpy... and filled with amazing people and God." And, I don't ever want to forget that, outside that door, people sleep on concrete and under bridges and in cardboard boxes.
And, I know that I feel more peaceful and healthy when I'm in quiet, physically "nurturing" surroundings. Order. Peace. Beauty. All are important to me. So, where's the balance?
This is a particularly important question as I sell the furniture I bought to furnish my apartment. The first place I ever decorated (from scratch) for me. To meet my needs and create a safe, beautiful, nurturing environment. Now, storing the stuff makes no financial sense. I can take a few things, ship some, store a few precious items like my mom's china or a piece of art at a friend's home...but the rest must go. (any Madison-area peeps looking for some good quality, not-garage sale furniture? let me know)
So, what does stuff mean? What should be sold and the money used to do great stuff (like buy better hearing aids or get furniture in SF) ? What should I joyfully give away (so...if your unemployed friend needs a bed and you have one...what's the question here?). Thinking. Remembering Heidi Baker touching her head and saying "Smaller...." Then her heart and saying, "Bigger..." Smaller....bigger....smaller...bigger....
So, back to SF and the great moving adventure:
The carpeting in my room there is pretty bad (read: awful, moldy, weird and made my allergies stand up and scream). I knew it wasn't good for my health to be in the space. I also knew that YWAM had no money for upgrading the building (which they rent), so I asked the YWAM "management team" if I could pay to pull up the carpeting and replace it with laminate. "Sure." Great! I was happy...
Just as I left, the BJM director said she'd received an email from someone with extra wood flooring who wanted to know if they could donate it to the women's center. She hadn't replied yet - but had planned to say the flooring was already installed there and their kind offer wasn't needed. She said...who knows....maybe they'll donate it to YWAM specifically for your room!
Who knows? I didn't... because I returned to Madison the next day and haven't thought a lot about the whole thing.
But this past week I was looking at my budget. like "Okay, new hearing aids..$$$$, road trip costs $$...car insurance $...chiropractor for whatever I did to my shoulder and jaw $$....now...how much will the floor thing cost in SF?"
I wrote the BJM director, Ruthie, to ask whether that lovely person really did donate the flooring. And here's her reply, "Don't worry. Your flooring is being taken care of by us. You'll return to nice, new wood floors!"
Whoa! It's already done?!!! I don't have to do it? I was speechless. Then I laughed!
I feel loved and cared for! Honored and loved by the YWAM community there. I don't know who actually did the gross job of pulling up the moldy, dusty carpeting. I don't know who washed the years of filtered dust, mold and "stuff" from the sub flooring, hauled the wood upstairs, and did the labor of installing the floor. I'm imagining those wild, beautiful, Jesus-loving, visionary "kids" (as in I'm old enough to be the mom of about 90% of the YWAM San Francisco staff). What I don't have to imagine is the love.
The last thing I'm imagining is walking into that room, over and over and over. Seeing the lovely, clean wood floors...my beautiful small area rug with the deep, cobalt blue that matches the prophetic painting my friend Mary Ann did for me (gotta fit those two things in my car!) and a couple of comfy small "sit and talk" chairs. A little coffee table (cause you need coffee to talk, of course) and some of my beautiful art hanging and making things beautiful. I imagine thinking, "They did the floors just for me! Wow! God, you are so good....I feel so loved and taken care of."
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