Gott ist Gut

Before I get into the pics I have a few things to say! First and foremost GOD is amazing! So I am halfway around the world, feeling a lot spiritually dry, and not deserving of anything good from Him. I had been thanking God for the cool paintings I got to see that made my eyes tear up and my breath catch in my chest, and I asked him to give me something else. Today he started the wheels moving.



In our wanderings around Basel I noticed that there was a Basel Vineyard church office on our street. This was interesting to me because I know a lot about the Vineyard organization and I was excited to check out a service while I was over here sometime. However with all the travel and work I was hard pressed to get my carcass out of bed at any sort of hour that would get me to a church on a Sunday morning. So I went online and found that the Basel Vineyard meets at 5:30 PM (!) in a real live church building that is LITERALLY across the street from my hotel.





It is nuts.





I emailed the church and asked if they had any English services. They replied and said no but were happy to let me know that the worship songs were sometimes in English.


So I did some praying that I would get something out of the service and asked the God of tongues to help me out a little with the German. And boy did he. I walked into the church and it was very warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the empty churches I have toured in all over Europe. I spoke to no one and sat down. A man sat next to me and asked me in German if I would put his jacket on the edge of the pew. I said "English?" and he repeated in English. He then asked if I could understand anything and I said "not a word". So after the worship time (which was SOOO in English and SOOO familiar to me, I knew every song) this man TRANSLATED the ENTIRE service to me. We were annoying people around us so he moved with me to the back of the packed church to finish out. It was amazing. It makes the fact that I am going to be over here for nine more months almost exciting, and certainly bearable.



It was a wonderful gift. He said he wouldn't be there the next time I was in town, but I think sometimes words aren't needed.

Now for the continuation of the visual tour.





The Basel Fesitval at night in front of the Rhine:





A church in a quaint little suburban town called Arlesheim, and below Becky, Grace, John (in his easy to spot da-glow coat) and Dave.

Me "riding the weiner" dont ask.

Another Klee at the Basel Kunstmuseum (Happy Birthday Ange!!!)

IN Schwitzerland, it's not "Schwarm". This (and tons of other random words) was carved into a really neat wooden table we ate dinner on one night.

It was also way too "Schwarm" when we went "Swisser-dancing in Salsa-land".

It was awesome. Really awesome. I danced with a short Brazilian all night who only spoke Spanish, so I got to practice my Latin moves and my best second language! Hace calor, verdad??

A screaming Gargoyle atop the Muenster Church tower that we climbed today.

Below, back in Arlesheim, a JOHN DEERE tractor in a Swiss barn. Thought that was worth capturing. Even though the pic is hard to see... it's there alright.

Inscribed on a cave on the way up to the Arlesheim castle. I couldn't agree more.

This wine had my name on it. Look closely.

Cousin to the Zurich Blue cow and the Basel red cow of blogs past... I present to you.. the Arlesheim Cow. A cow of different colors.

More Random pics

Lausanne? Lugano? no LUCERNE!

Took a train to Lucerne today. I was so bummin that my travel-mates wanted to leave at 6:10 in the morning to get on the 7am train..."that one goooes faster, and we'll get there quicker!'... I would rather take longer, sleep longer and...why can't leave at noon again?
Anyway, I am not bitter anymore. Inspite of stepping off the train at 8:14, and freezing, and having nothing open until 9am, (Never thought I'd say this, but thank God for Starbucks) it was an amazing day. We couldn't see the surrounding mountains, because the lake fog didn't lift all day, but we did go see a few really 'rock star' things.

First, we sat at the aforementioned Starbucks and drank hot chocolate and dined on Luxemburgerli's and chocolate tarts I got at the train station.

'Luxemburgerlis are little yummy light treats that come in all different flavors. They look like little hamburgers. Buns made of meringue, and a macaroon filling. Oh they are sooo good, and they are so light, that they 'melt' if you keep them too long. The instructions on the box say "EAT TODAY" or something.

Then we trekked across the old wooden covered bridges to "The Lion". Amazing little tribute to some Swiss mercenaries who died defending the French King back in blah blah blah.

Inscription under the Lion says: "To the Brave and Loyal Swiss. "
I bought gloves and a hat as a necessity! It was nippy.
Then we continued to walk around Old Lucerne until my piggies hurt. We finally worked our way back toward the train station and into a museum where there were Chagall, Klee, Picasso, Monet, Renoir, Matisse paintings and sketches. Did I mention they had Chagalls? Oh man. I love his work. I almost cried when I saw a whole room full of his stuff, some I had never seen before. It was GLORIOUS. Happiness on canvas. He is quoted as saying:

"Will God or someone give me the power to breathe my sigh into my canvases, the
sigh of prayer and sadness, the prayer of salvation, of rebirth?"

I think God did:

And I sadly, cannot recreate it on your screen in the brilliance that it is in real life...

Another gift from God, to my eyeballs, and heart.

Sad-Light Savings Time

I have said before that my favorite day of the year is the day we get an extra hour of sleep.

 

This year I am sooo bummin because in Switerland, that is a different day than it is in the states, and as dumb luck would have it.. it's today.  That's right, the day I travelled over here.  Which means, that the extra hour of sleep not only doesn't count, it actually is worse because instead of being wide awake at 5:30 whining on my blog about jet lag... I'm wide awake at 4:30 whining on my blog about jet lag.

 

Oh the horror of missing my favorite day.   To add to the misery, since it is a different day in the states, the opportunity would have existed to have this day twice!  To get two hours of extra sleep on two different days, but alas, i will be in Switzerland when the States fall back, so I miss that too.

 

Woe is me.  I cannot think of a worse stroke of luck. 

 

:) 

 

Miss everyone already.  This is going to be a long, lonely stretch.

At a glance.

Listening to: Easy Silence by the Dixie Chics....Awesome.

 

Packing for:  Three weeks in Switzerland, one in Colorado, and two more in Switzerland.

 

Praying for:  Fanned Flames, Far away Friends, Soon to be Far away Friends, Giving Trees, a purpose.

 

Paying for:  Renovated basements, new luggage.

 

Hoping for:  Everything...

Door Numbah Three.

Ok Jan, Jan Meyers. I had you sitting on my dresser for awhile, and I finally read you.  I started to read you and couldn't finish you about two years ago.  So I picked you up again and I am so glad I did.

 

Because your words are better than mine.  I pray that if you read this and you are in the same place I am (and I know you are out there) that these will encourage you as they did me from "The Allure of Hope":

 

"When a woman finds herself thrown out of the Restaurant of Hope, abandoned to the cold dark alleyway, she can pursue the path of "hovering".  Hunkering down over the steam grate, she can lower her expectations to the basement and try to be satisfied with merely surviving. Or she can pursue the path of "clamoring", trying in her own strength to make herself beautiful enough to be invited back into the restaurant.  This pathway is a dead end like the other.  But there is a third pathway.  The final option in the alleyway is an option that feels foolish.--the option of hopeful remembrance and vision.  Frederick Buechner says, 'The world can be kind, it can be cruel.  It can be beautiful, and it can be appalling.  It can give us good reason to hope, and good reason to give up all hope.  It can strengthen out faith in a loving God, and it can decimate our faith'.  The alleyway makes this clear. 

 

Choosing to respond to hope requires courage, vision and patience. The third path looks like this: "How sad.  How very sad. I've been ushered away from the meal I know the chef intended for me.  As I look around this alleyway, everything I see is cold, dark, and lonely.  I'm going to slowly look around at the harshness of this place, and then I will weep.  I will weep for what has been lost.  Then I will set my gaze through that back kitchen window. From just the right angle, I'm able to see the table where I once sat.  As the back door opens and closes, the aromas of the kitchen hit my senses and remind me of what I had.  I will not cover my eyes; I will not cover my nose.  I will allow myself to be reminded of what was.  And I will wait.  I will not wait merely for the meal to be restored to me --THAT MAY NEVER HAPPEN.  But I will wait for God.  It is His gaze, His care for me that haunts me, and His seeming abandonment that puzzles me.  In the waiting I will wrestle with my own personal dilemma with the chef.  And in the waiting I will offer my presence to those around me; I will find opportunities to love."

 

And a Child Shall Lead them...

"Hope is a Bastard."

 

...I am often heard saying.

 

It is.  Hope for what your heart really wants and you will likely be disappointed.  Unless...

 

Unless, as Brad said, sitting on my couch: "Unless your Hope is in Christ.."  Unless it's in the one thing that does not, that cannot, disappoint.

 

I take a hard look at life these days and it seems I, as usual, need to be kicked in the actual teeth before I use my spiritual eyes.  In a world where decay and wrinkles and death and heartbreak and betrayal and cancer are inevitable, I have been shown reasons to hope.  Redemption is all around us, if we would look.

 

God is teaching me hard lessons to grasp, in relatively easy ways.  Comparatively speaking, that is.

 

A little Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (or Supernanny..love it!) sometimes are all it takes to make me recognize how easy peasy I have it.  Talk about some REDEMPTIVE TV. 

 

A little 8 year old gal who had been fighting cancer just found out that she has it again.  A little spitfire girl, who, the first time around, started saving her change and buying stuffed animals for other kids in the hospital who were fighting cancer.  So of COURSE they are gonna build that girl and her family a house.  GEEZ, I'd build this kid a house myself.  When they interviewed her this little girl without a single hair on her head and an inexplicable light in her eye, when asked where her energy came from, she said:  "We pray... A LOT.  I love praying, it makes me feel better." 

 

Accuse me of being over-emotional... or even naive, or even dumb, but when you have faith like a CHILD.  Like a CHILD with nearly incurable CANCER... When you aim at heaven... sometimes Earth gets thrown in.    Aim at Heaven and you spend your nickels and dimes on teddy bears for others, and you also heal.  Aim and Earth, and gripe about your lack of healing and you just have two kinds of cancer.  Aim at Earth and that is what makes you say things like "Hope is a Bastard".Or something like that.

 

Man.  God is Good. Yes, even the God who allows all things to happen, all tragedies to assail his children... all chemotherapy... of all sorts.  

 

Man can be good also.  We are not a hopeless race, doomed to destroy each other.  There is hope.  Even if it comes in waves.

 

There is also an Extreme Home Mansion for each of us in the hereafter.  Perhaps complete with every video game system ever conceived.  Perhaps something better.  Like a Citrus s Peach Fresca drinking fountain.   Whatever it is.. it will have my name on it, and it will...FOR SURE... make my eyes bug out of my head.

 

 

And me without my chalk...

As seen in a department store.

Needless to say, this visibly startled me. Poor decapitated sportswear dude-equin.

Bound

Just got finished reading a Lisa See novel where Chinese footbinding was discussed.

 

The main characters foot was dainty by Chinese standars at 7cm. 

 

That is 2.75 inches.

 

That is exactly the length of MY BIG TOE.

 

I would have been fetching water in China...or just stomping on the high class.

The God of Rain.

Thanks Carrie, this spoke to my busted up Engineer soul,

 

From John Piper: 

 

Job 5:8-10

But as for me, I would seek God, And I would place my cause before God; Who does great and unsearchable things, Wonders without number. He gives rain on the earth, And sends water on the fields. Job 5:8-10

...Is rain a great and unsearchable wonder wrought by God? Picture yourself as a farmer in the Near East, far from any lake or stream. A few wells keep the family and animals supplied with water. But if the crops are to grow and the family is to be fed from month to month, water has to come on the fields from another source. From where?

Well, the sky. The sky? Water will come out of the clear blue sky? Well, not exactly. Water will have to be carried in the sky from the Mediterranean Sea, over several hundred miles and then be poured out from the sky onto the fields. Carried? How much does it weigh? Well, if one inch of rain falls on one square mile of farmland during the night, that would be 27,878,400 cubic feet of water, which is 206,300,160 gallons, which is 1,650,501,280 pounds of water.

That's heavy. So how does it get up in the sky and stay up there if it's so heavy? Well, it gets up there by evaporation. Really? That's a nice word. What's it mean? It means that the water sort of stops being water for a while so it can go up and not down. I see. Then how does it get down? Well, condensation happens. What's that? The water starts becoming water again by gathering around little dust particles between .00001 and .0001 centimeters wide. That's small.

What about the salt? Salt? Yes, the Mediterranean Sea is salt water. That would kill the crops. What about the salt? Well, the salt has to be taken out. Oh. So the sky picks up a billion pounds of water from the sea and takes out the salt and then carries it for three hundred miles and then dumps it on the farm?

Well it doesn't dump it. If it dumped a billion pounds of water on the farm, the wheat would be crushed. So the sky dribbles the billion pounds water down in little drops. And they have to be big enough to fall for one mile or so without evaporating, and small enough to keep from crushing the wheat stalks.

How do all these microscopic specks of water that weigh a billion pounds get heavy enough to fall (if that's the way to ask the question)? Well, it's called coalescence. What's that? It means the specks of water start bumping into each other and join up and get bigger. And when they are big enough, they fall. Just like that? Well, not exactly, because they would just bounce off each other instead of joining up, if there were no electric field present. What? Never mind. Take my word for it.

I think, instead, I will just take Job's word for it. I still don't see why drops ever get to the ground, because if they start falling as soon as they are heavier than air, they would be too small not to evaporate on the way down, but if they wait to come down, what holds them up till they are big enough not to evaporate? Yes, I am sure there is a name for that too. But I am satisfied now that, by any name, this is a great and unsearchable thing that God has done. I think I should be thankful - lots more thankful than I am.

Grateful to God for the wonder of rain.

 

Semi Mono-syllabic commentary on too many things.

Four year plans: Yeah Right.

Grandmothers: Seriously...

The lack of returns in my blogs lately: What is up with that?

Flopping of the spirit and the flesh: How can they war so fiercely?

The removal of fruit! YES! WAIT.. NO!

The evidence of fruit: More Please.

Crainial Ridges: Where?

The Sauls leaving: Wah.

Foxes Re-treating: Hooray.

Fried Chicken Embryos: Fun-ny.

Funerals: Sorrow and Glory.

Brave Girls: D.

Brave Guys: P^2

Expensive Furniture: Why?

Six weeks out: Weird.. but Yay.

Time to unravel thoughts: Gift.

Beth Moore: Can there be too much?

WEST WING 7: Never Too Much.

A Boy Named Sue: Classic.

Not burning the cookies: Atypical.

Not making the cookies: Typical.

Beautiful things: Hurt.

Hurt. Anger. Rage. Sorrow. Passion: He permits it all.

Control. "I'm fine": He spits that out.

Lies: Hold no water, grow no gardens, heal no wounds.

I am a Spice Girl: Pretty Much.

I am loved: Very Much.

Future: Awesome. Terrifying. Awesome.

Labor

I spent the weekend with my folks playing mad golf. Did i say "mad"? I meant... BAD golf. This was the first time I played 18 holes two straight days in a row, and I am falling apart. I had some funky foot thing, my normal left knee pain and my broken heart to deal with. It was good to be around family and around the Lord again.


He has felt far.

My brother (and the aforementioned Lord) got us an eagle on a 441 yard par 4. He drove to the neck of the green and then putted from off the fringe for an 873 dollar skin. The only one in the tournament. Pretty awesome. Because I am on the team I got a sweet cut of that dough. So that was cool... even thought all I did to earn it was show Dusty how NOT to putt it. Heh.

Taylorville, Illinois is the town where I was born and raised. We went by our old houses and old schools. It's a lovely farm town with lovely people who, suprisingly, are dance/karaoke machines... they danced all night after the golf tournament. I didn't know this about the townspeople because we left there when I was only nine, but my folks said they know how to party. It was a joyous time, even though I was pouting I ended up dancing and having a good time.

There joy amidst the similar sorrows that any tight knit community has, sorrows like the scorned ex-wife, who is anorexic, high, and aging beyond her years from some hard life. There is her brother (the one MY brother mentioned, "who peed himself two years ago"...) who wore an air-brushed button-down AC/DC collared shirt and ended up passing out in a golf cart, I think, for the remainder of the night. But there were no fights and I was amazed that the certain feuds hadn't torn up the community over the years, that they could still all come together and hang out and get along and have joy.

I think karaoke almost cannot be fun unless the patriarchs get involved. This dude got up and did Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone. " It was awesome, complete with backup line of about six macho men doing do-wop moves in sync, in golf hats and sun glasses and the whole bit. Have you ever seen this happen between fathers and their college aged sons?

How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Bob, it feels pretty great to have finally been honest with myself. Weight has lifted.

Farmland is really beautiful. There is nothing particularly exciting or hip about cornfields, I suppose, but I grew up around them, so they were really nostalgic and calming.

I think if you really want to, you can find Gods hand anywhere in creation, and I love that he does that.

I also love my brother and my parents to pieces. They are aweseome.

Surgery in ten days. It can't get here fast enough.

2 Corinthians 4. Blessed me today.

Bless you, Friends.

I shouldn't have worn mascara today...

Cause the boy and I broke up. 

 

Suck.

Peace

Deep inside me I believe in the fairy tale.

 

No matter what I say or write or think.  My deepest desire is the Rider of the white horse.

 

That is how I know that I am His.  

 

 

Swiss National Day (Our Fourth of July)

Didn't know my camera could do this. They were spectacular. If i can say that word.. which I'm not sure I can get away with. These were truly like nothing I've seen before.

Basel Part II and Zurich.

Red cow of Basel:
Blue Cow of Zurich. I think they are cousins. Don't Jump Blue Cow.. you have too much to live for...

Contruction company with Daisy logos on all construction equipment. Back-hoe, trucks, bobcats. Never in the US.

Breakfast every morning. Not bad! Hot chocolate to die for. A sign on a table. I agree. It's no picnic.
Grace has a horrible rash that has taken over her body. I am helping her get relief. It's no picnic for sure.
Lake Zurich!!

Hotel Zic-Zac. Rock and roll theme, We stayed in the Rolling Stone room.

Grace and I taking a self-portrait. Frau Munster in the background. Zurich at Night.
Ferris Wheel. I haven't been on a Ferris wheel in ages. Amazing views of the city.

Stories need to accompany some of these pics, but I will elaborate later. It's' all I can do to get these on the web!

Cordless Extension Cord.

Amongst the hoopla of packing last weekend, i realized when I got to Frankfurt that there was a good chance I had forgotten my computer power supply cord.  (Switched carry-ons at the last minute and the transfer did not happen).  So when I got to Basel, my compy was completely dead.  So I go to the the front desk to see if they would lend me something or if they had something Dell-ish for me to use. They had a plethora of cords, but to no avail.  So I inquired about a place to buy something.  Nothing in Basel is open on Sundays so Monday after work I took the bus down to the train station to get a new cord.  It was pouring down rain and I didn't have an umbrella.  Missed my first bus from work and had to wait for the next one in the rain for 15 minutes.  Must have been an omen.  I get to the "Media Markt" and wander it aimlessly, admittedly distracted by the aisles of 'stuff' it seemed bigger and more useful than a Best Buy.  So the "information guy" was swamped by tons of people and he was apparently the only dude there that could answer "computer" related questions.  (Very Swiss).  I decided I didn't need his help and found a universal cord on my own.  Checked my voltages and was good to go. Didn't find a price tag..but I didn't suppose it mattered, since it was my only option.  I get up to the cashier and notice I'm getting tight on time, I had told co-workers I would meet them at 8 for dinner and I was still across town, so I"m getting hungry and anxious and I'm still damp.  So.. of course.. I"m behind an old Swiss goat-herder who took, I SWEAR, like ten whole minutes to count his money out.  I'm daydreaming about my speedy check-out and how much this cashier is going to love me for my speediness, and how much I'm going to love eating food and getting dry.  So I step up after he leaves and it and she rings it up to 89.90 CHF.  GAW!  A) That is a bit of a chunk of change.  B) I don't have that much cash on my person.  Do they take Discover?  Of course not.  Do they take VISA?  NO! Only Master Card.. which I left stateside... cuz WHO TAKES ONLY MASTER CARD?? Anywho.

 

She says in broken German. "BANK?" and points across the street.

 

I run over in the rain, to see a set of glass doors enclosing the ATMs.  I was like a monkey trying to get a Cheeto out of the glass box.  How do I get in there?  Of course there are no English signs telling me how to get in, but my superior skills of deduction that I amassed playing MYST finally prevailed and I figured out that if you stick your ATM card in, the doors open!

 

Voila.

 

I run in get my cash, dash back across the street.  "Sorry Ma'am we are closed.." "But, But, I.. I .. "  They then realized that I wanted to pay them and pay them fast. So they were more than happy to let me and my money back in the store.  After the purchase,  I was glad to have the plastic bag that it came in to use as an umbrella now.

 

Fast forward to taking the train back across town where I watched the number 2 pull away without me.  OK fine, 20 more minutes in the rain, being approached repeatedly by this young boy who only had one arm.  He was rough looking and had blood on his face he asked me in German for money and for a place to sleep.  I felt truly bad that I didn't give him my money, especially since I had to sit at the station for 20 more minutes and watch him ask other people.  Broke my heart.  Why didn't I just give him the money?  Why do I feel so strange in a foreign place about being merciful? 

 

But anyway... got back to dinner a half hour late and all was well.  

 

That is just day one.

 

Stay tuned.  The shower stall is too small for me to bend over in, and the power cord only maintains, does not charge...

 

 

The heroes are the ones who stay. --Veronica Mars.

I have a house group that is awesome.  Something is happening.  You take a group of strangers who all don't really know why they are there.  Who are all there for different reasons via different roads.  We fight different battles and know God in different ways or maybe even not at all...  You throw them in a room with some food and lock the door.  They are strange people, and the process of getting there was hard, but  As we take in calories and stories, I think the stories start to melt the prejudices that we started with of each other, and the bread we break together breaks down the walls.  And somehow, even though we haven't cracked a bible, we are drawing to God.  Because you see the glory in people sitting there.  You want to high five them when you see where they have won against odds, you want to cheer them up when you see them blue, you want to encourage them when you know they are on hard times... and what? What's this?  My problems?  Well I had forgotten all about those.. I was to busy thinking about YOU.  

 

I have been a tool.  In a good way. A tool for change in peoples lives, not the change, not the driving force, just the suface.  I didn't see it at the time and perhaps I'm not seeing what my purpose is right this very second.  And perhaps that is exactly the way that it is supposed to be.  It is nice to know that my life where it was at the very moment in time that it was, was not purposeless, that nothing was lost, that God used me for his purpose because I was bent the exact way that I needed to be to do the job he needed done.  And hopefully I can rest in the knowledge that even though I'm still a screwed up and a broken messy person with broken messy parts, that in HIS capable hands... I am the right fit to accomplish things.  Even mighty things.  Dare I dream?

 

I dropped to the slippery shower floor and worshipped because he lives.    Because his love is real and it does change people.  Because I have awesome friends who love me.  Because I have real live friends who have stayed by me even though they probably didn't have to. 

 

Because He breathes life into dry bones, and not only to they become alive.. but they dance.

 

9For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you and asking God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding. 10And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, 11being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully 12giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you ^[d] to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. 13For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, 14in whom we have redemption,^{[ e]} the forgiveness of sins.

 

 

KenJa the NinJa.

Over the Rhine...

He visits at night.

I am a basket case right now. After a hard four days of meetings in which I do no actual production, I had a day an a half to myself to really get down to brass tacks and get something accomplished. I thought I did a pretty bang up job, myself, but I can't seem to get over this hump.

So does this hump ever go away? It seems like I forgot how to operate lately. I am so scared of everything. Let's drill this down. The times that I react the most and have the most anxiety are when some one seems to question my intelligence. Even when they have a right to. I don't get it. I just spaz out when some one tries to correct me. I feel so very justified in my right to be respected I completely lose it. I cannot figure this out. Scott says that the place where we react the strongest is where our idols live. What is this idol I have? It's certainly work related and It's certainly self-directed, so I know it's not me being over passionate about the truth of God. Is it that if you strip away my brain, and my wit away (the brain and the wit, consequently, have been negated quite effectively as of late, I am working with people who are so smart that it would appear I am only here to carry their stuff around, and the language barrier makes my jokes fall on dead ears.) I find that I am just standing here naked and everyone now knows there is really nothing special there. And my whole life is an orchestration to keep people from somehow figuring that out.

What if they find out?

Or worse... what if they already know?

Why don't I know that I am special? Why do I now, at 27 years of age have this all of a sudden identity crisis?

I have often thought of myself as a candy. Not unlike one of those Queen Anne chocolate covered cherries my Grandmother loves. Hard, cold, crunchy exterior and runny, drippy, gooey messy interior. That interior is the super sensitive me. The one that you can hurt very easily if I let you past the shell. The goo feels it can do nothing perfectly enough. The outside can't really do much. It feels it can't make a difference, it can't really be a catalyst for change because what if the exterior forgets its important job of keeping the goo at bay? Maybe I'm more like that little green nuclear/bio-terror weapon in "THE ROCK"...What if it leaked out and exploded on contact with the world? The world doesn't care for my tender interior. It has long shown me that.

Why the hell am I blogging this? Probably because you can't fix a problem and have others help you fix it if you don't put it out there. And I like analogies using the word 'goo'.

I am thinking that the operation I need to have is a re-distribution surgery to even out my density. I need to be more like a pumpkin. Still sweet and tender on the inside, but with a less damageable interior structure. More consistent. And that skin.. it still takes some work to get through but it's not as hard. Not as dark, and just a jigsaw away?

Oh to be a pumpkin! To have all that stringy gross stuff scooped out of you and a placed light inside that shines through and in spite of the vessel it's in. I desire to be a Gourd.

There it is.. that mushiness again. It's not about me.

It's not about me. How do we live with an outward focus, without disrespecting and hating the vessel we occupy? How do we love ourselves and see the way God sees, yet not become vain and obsessive? How do we not hate ourselves for not knowing the answers.

Monty says: "I think you out-think yourself" Probably true...but how do you stop?

Please answer in 1 million words or less. You know.. if you have answers.

Traveling Mercies...or lack thereof.

Hello friends, I'm writing from beautiful Basel, Switzerland.  It's not at all like I remember, not a yucky industrial city, but rather a small charming city on the banks of the Rhine.  I think I may have spelled that wrong. Too tired to check.

 

I left on Friday at 1:20 pm.  The very second I got in the air, the plane I was on to Atlanta was put in a holding pattern which caused me to miss my connecting flight to Zurich.  After waiting in line with a nice young Swiss man who missed his Zurich connection as well, for a few hours.  We both had "stand by" tickets on a flight to Paris leaving that night on Air France.  Had to wait on pins and needles while 499 other passengers boarded the Beluga-whale shaped plane to receive the very last seat.  I was lucky enough to make the flight but my traveling partner did not. Felt like one of those odd moments when you win a beauty pageant and you have to like feel a lot sorry for the runner up.  But you are really not that sorry. I was so glad I got on that plane.  Sorry Niklas. 

 

The flight to Paris was awful, that last seat I got on the plane was broken, the headrest wouldn't say up. French steward dude tried to help, but didn't really care.  Sat next to Erik the Snuggling German, and behind a South African shin banging seat recliner man.  Got to Paris and missed my connection to Zurich.  Not in small part thanks to mister between-terminals-bus-driver man who replaced a seeming competent bus driver and commenced his FIRST DAY ON THE JOB training.  Awesome.  Sorry Mademoiselle, your next flight will not leave until it is the perfect time to make you not want to take a train straight to Basel, but it will be delayed another two hours because we, are incompetent and can't make a flight land or take off on time.

 

Get to Zurich.  Luggage?  Hmm.  Didn't leave Atlanta.  That seems to be Americas fault, but I still blame France.  And Portugal.  Mostly because Portugese sounds nothing like Spanish so I couldn't fight with the lady who tried to butt in line infront of me in the "we lost our luggage line".   Hey lady, no espanol, no service.  And I had an hour train to catch after that.  So after 24 hours travelling I arrived in Basel and the crew met me at the station and took my carry on from me and graciously carried it the rest of the night.  We had some good food (for Europe) and a great night sleep in a pretty nice European hotel.  After two days in the same t-shirt and a move to a hotel that actually had internet... and a garden... and free cokes in said garden... I got my luggage back and then took a hot bath.  MMMMmmmmm.  Much better. 

 

Electical situation is good, only burned up my hair straightener thus far, and that is a sad causualty but I will find another... one that the power grid in Switzerland can handle.

 

Man I work with some smart people.  I tell you what.  I am blown away by the minds I'm with for these two weeks.  Couldn't ask for better road warriors.  The Swiss are strange, Deiter-like, nice, smart beautiful people.  Watches and trains and buses they do very well, air conditioning, not so much...

 

Pics when I get time. 

 

Linz

Blue and Fruit

Out of the blue I have to have a surgery.  I have just recently found out that I have three rather large fibroid tumors in my uterus.  They are about the size of grapefruits or something.  Good news is that this is fairly common and it shouldn't have any long term effect, they are benign but i do require an incision to remove them and I will have a 4-6 week recovery time.   I'm doing fine with this and am not in any discomfort or anything, just weirded out that I have three citrus fruits in my womb.  Mostly scared about missing that much work.  I'll be on short-term disability so finances and vacation time isn't the issue, it's more about being out of the saddle for that long. Ultimately God is driving the bus and I am more than safe in his hands, but still... I have fruit salad, and temporarily, no purpose.  Weird. 

 

You may be surprised that I'm blogging about this, but I'm fairly open with stuff like this and I think it's important to tell women to GET TO THE GIRL DOCTOR.  I hadn't gone in three years and I am regretting my squeamish-ness about this.  This is much more a big deal than my root canal...

 

Anyway this adventure isn't without a blog worthy story:

 

I am getting ready to get my MRI scan done to figure out how these babies are attached, and "the Dude" running the desk takes me back to a small lockerroom.  A. It was a Dude, I guess that isn't uncommon, but when getting your scrubs handed to you it's odd having a dude tell you what things to leave on and what to take off.  B. "The Dude" hands me a giant, blue.. PARACHUTE??? What IS this thing?  I swear it was 4X day at the hospital and these crazy blue paper scrubs were GI-NORMOUS!  If I had dropped my business card in them me and LITERALLY four our five of my closest friends could have been joining me in this free time-share of a pair of pants.  It was nutty.  The sillouette of me in these pants was so much like a ping-pong paddle on it's end I almost snapped a picture of it so I could blog it, but I didn't. (try to hide your disappointment)  C.  I walk back out of the dressing room with my sandals, my scrub top, and my hammer pants and Dude says to me, "You can have a seat back in the waiting room if you like."  I obediently slithered back toward the double doors that I walked through earlier, the other side of which were scads of fully clothed people reading magazines.  Then I stopped.  "You want me to go where?"  I am only still wearing 5% of the clothing that I came in here with and those people out there are not trained medical professionals.  Dude says "Well there a TV in there, but you can sit wherever you want."  Thanks.  I'll give up the TV.  Me and my blue paper tent are just fine here where there is no danger of givin' any octegenarian a free shot.  I was seriously wondering if I was being Punk'd.  Insane.

 

So if you are a praying sort, I could use some prayer for this.  I am also leave for Switzerland on Friday for two weeks.  It's a work trip and I'm generally a dork, so stay tuned for good stories of Murl abroad.

 

I'm sure 4-6 weeks at home will be good fodder for this blog thing that I've all but abandoned.

 

I also have ripped out basement pictures to show you...ooh are you all tingly????
 

Love Joel

3: 9 Proclaim this among the nations:

Prepare for war!

Rouse the warriors!

Let all the fighting men draw near and attack.
10 Beat your plowshares into swords

and your pruning hooks into spears.

Let the weakling say,

"I am strong!"

Upon re-reading this whole passage..., it didn't mean what I thought it meant. But I do like what it does mean. I still like how it sounds.

I wanted this verse to say: "RISE UP MIGHTY WARRIORS!! BEAT YOUR RUSTY OLD BENT TOOLS INTO SPEARS AND FIGHT!!" "FIGHT AND USE WHAT EVER YOU HAVE LAYING AROUND! FIGHT AGAINST THE ENEMY" But that's really not what it says. It says fight how you will, bend your lame excuses into weapons but you are going to war with me over your wickedness and I'm gonna win. There is a bounty of evil that is to be harvested an judged.

11 Come quickly, all you nations from every side,
and assemble there.
Bring down your warriors, O LORD!
12 "Let the nations be roused;
let them advance into the Valley of Jehoshaphat,
for there I will sit
to judge all the nations on every side.
13 Swing the sickle, for the
harvest is ripe. Come, trample the grapes,
for the winepress is full
and the vats overflow—
so great is their wickedness!"
14 Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of
decision! For the day of the LORD is near
in the valley of decision.
15 The sun and moon will be darkened, and the
stars no longer shine.
16 The LORD will roar from Zion
and thunder from Jerusalem;
the earth and the sky will tremble.
But the LORD will be a refuge for his
people, a stronghold for the people of
Israel.

I was looking for something to pick us up. Not beat us down. Church is whiny lately. Everything is sadness. Everything is trial. And SO much so that it is depressing me a bit.

I am a wreck and so are my friends. Some of us are so hurting and broken and pathetic. We all know who Jesus is. If we knew healing would it be any different? Would we be whole-er? Do you ever look at someone else and say. That person is whole. Not really. I used to think those people existed, but I was very wrong. We are not capable. Does the surface of a person actually change when the heart is redeemed? It must. But you can't do it backwards. The heart must change first. Otherwise the surface works are pecked out by the black crows of criticism and the world. The world is aching and it needs it's Jesus. It's comfort. It's hope.

13Then Jesus said to them, "Don't you understand this parable? How then will you
understand any parable? 14The farmer sows the word. 15Some people are like seed
along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and
takes away the word that was sown in them. 16Others, like seed sown on rocky
places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. 17But since they have no
root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of
the word, they quickly fall away. 18Still others, like seed sown among thorns,
hear the word; 19but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and
the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful.
20Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a
crop—thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was sown."

Yeowsah. Just cut myself on a thorn.

Thoughts on messes.

I am in love. With a woman. My cleaning lady.


We'll call her Diane. Because that is her name. Folks... I know that it seems a little bit like cheating to get a cleaning lady, a little, shall we say.. extravagant? But TRRRUST me. This lady, for a measly 20bucks an hour makes my life easier. What's weirder, is that she seems to love doing it. I had her come over this past Tuesday and I was promising myself to not be one of those peeps who cleans their house before the cleaning lady comes over, but I couldn't help it.. I was straightening and fussing the night before like a goon. Didn't seem to matter, this gal came in, and it almost brought a tear to my eye to see THROUGH my glass shower doors once again. I didn't think it would ever be possible. I didn't think I could ever let Cary Murphy see my house ever again. But now, I'd let her eat off my shower doors. I'm not sure how that would work, maybe I'd spray someting jam-like on them and squeegee it onto some toast? Dunno. Anyway...it was one more task I got to take off my list of things to do that week. It totally freed me up to not feel guilty about not doing it again, and getting back to living life. I don't know if I'll become a regular or just get quick fixes once in awhile (is this how drug addicts start?) but I do know that it was SUCH a blessing WELL worth my time and money. May I suggest similar gifts to any and all moms out there for this upcoming holiday?

May I suggest not getting your hair dyed three times in one day? I hate my hair right now. For it to be my natural dirty blonde color ever again, I will need to Sinead it all off or let it grow striped-ly out. Two-tone Malone.

For those of you privy to the cleaning lady discussion, I had this post crafted before that conversation came up.. so don't think I'm beating this dead horse to a bloody pulp.

But do think that I am amazed and awed, humbled and happy to be clean.

I have finally done it.. lost the last retainer in my set of four. In less than six months I have lost six total pieces. One to a lawn mower, one to a church gymnasium, two to a random place I have yet to figure out, no make that three, and now, one to Qdoba. I'm a mess.

Why is that Lady Screaming?

A portion of one of my engineering drawings. Monty says: "Why is that Lady Screaming?"

Ramen Noodles

Great people go to my church. It's really cool. Props to Mary Schawacker. Cool lady. Makes the place run like a top.


"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners,’ expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful."


Nice walk today with a most excellent companion.


Nice burning on the top of my red feet. I have been known to be allergic to certain types of carpet fibers... Which is nice. No more dancing and being silly for me!
The palms of my hands swelled up as well. Strange freaky freak-ness.


Nice Dinner and Movie company on Friday night. Fracture is a good flick, go see it. See if you can figure it out.

My brother shattered his personal best record this weekend at 474 YARDS. That's right. YARDS... that almost five football fields and thirty past his last PB.


I love my hammock. LOVE IT.


I love my yard. I love spring in St. Louis


Love love love.


Grace like Rain.

Guitar Playing Goat

Gray, quiet and tired and mean

Picking at a worried seam

I try to make you mad at me over the phone.

Red, eyes and fire and signs

I'm taken by a nursery rhyme

I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying

No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine

No, nothing else will do

I've gotta have you, I've gotta have you.

The road gets cold, there's no spring in the middle this year

I'm the new chicken clucking open hearts and ears

Oh, such a prima donna, sorry for myself

But green, it is also summer

And I won't be warm till I'm lying in your arms

I see it all through a telescope: guitar, suitcase, and a warm coat

Lying in the back of the blue boat, humming a tune...

Lines from the Weepies are running through my head. As much as I wish that Jane wasn't so perfect at being my musical barometer, she is. I like a lot of the music she so graciously sends me. It feels like cheating. Like I didn't dig around fifty music festivals and find these diamonds in the rough, it almost feels like I'm not allowed to lay claim to the music that steals her heart as mine. But once you drive through the stiffling rain, broken wiper banging on something that it shouldn't be banging on, and find yourself flipping the arrowed buttons on the steering wheel to the tracks that sing YOUR life, you really cannot help yourself. They feel like an old college buddies, hugging your heart and letting you know...Hey girl, I been there... and I sang about it..and we danced to it.

"Sometimes rain that's needed falls, We float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall, All around is sky and blue town, Holding these flowers for a wedding gown, We live so high above the ground, satellites surround us.

"I am humbled in this city, There seems to be an endless sea of people like us, Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets In our rooms filled with laughter, We make hope from every small disaster, Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try." Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do."

Just wow...

2006

2007

What a difference almost a year makes....Case, I'm glad we have taken turns each looking somewhat normal in each of these pics...

He Said.

He said to her in her foul, depressed, icky mood:
"I love you more when you are like this."
"How is that possible?" she asks.
He said.. "Because that's when you need it more."

Birth Pains and Hope

It is said that people should live more in the moment.

I don't think I'm one of those people. I think I live too much in the moment.

The sky is drizzly and cold grey like the scarf I'm knitting. My muscles are tight and knotted with tension of a soul that cannot find it's Jesus. Can not find it's peace.

Perhaps it really is the illusion that they say it is. That contentment is never really found. That mostly you get out of the creaky bed in the cold grey half-hour late morning and you put one foot gingerly on the creaky cold hard wood and you take another step...and another... take a shower, sing a little... let the hot water work out your knotted muscles and your sore, world weary back.

And you breathe and you laugh and pray and breathe and wander and waffle and you wonder about the point. You wonder if you are doing "it" right... whatever "it" is. I have never quite felt that I am doing "it" right. I think sometimes I wrongly live for what other people want, at other times I think I'm only living for myself. I am so terrified of not being perfect.

Ladies, let me be frank, is it so abnormal for a woman not to want to be a CEO? Check that... knowing ME is it weird that I don't want to be a CEO? I am not built for it. In my young life, by the worlds standards I am highly sucessful. Especially considering that if you have a roof over your head you are considered among the richest people in the world. I have a roof AND a basement. Granted it's a basement that has crushed pipes and drippy valves and a furnace that sounds like an old man, but still it is real estate nonetheless...

I'm built for knitting and cleaning and smiling. Giving grace and hanging pictures and making art and writing and mourning and dancing. I want hot glue guns and a garden, a swiffer vacuum and mini-muffins.

I do live in the moment, oh yes. So much so that those close to me think me a bit fickle...crying one minute, laughing at a commercial the next.

I feel my pains, I feel joys, I feel things that remind me that I'm, indeed, alive. But I am still in a prison of sorts. I give it different names, but it's bars are made of shame. Shame for not being ambitious enough. Shame for having an attitude that says "I just don't WANNA". But I will because I hafta! I think the elders are all right. About most things, really.

I do not like being told what to do. The times in my life where I show the least grace to people does not have to do with substance abuse, sexual immorality, abortions, homelessness, rage, greed, or wrath... to those sins I find my heart tender and compassionate.. my hate wells up and boils when I am condescended on. When people tell me what to do and how to do it like there is no other option I do not like it. Because I am certain that no human is ever right all the time... Not even me. I don't know why it irks me so, but it irks me like nothing else.

Proverbs 29:23
A man's pride brings him low, but a man of lowly spirit gains honor...

there seemes to be no sin in the bible that is more punished than pride...

I have enough of it...

Jeremiah 49:16
The terror you inspire and the pride of your heart have deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks, who occupy the heights of the hill. Though you build your nest as high as the eagle's, from there I will bring you down," declares the LORD.

I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.

I tremble.. who can stand?

Can I go where He went?

Hooray for:

Being wrapped in blankets and belly laughs on my front porch with wine and a backdrop of spice bushes and tulips.
Cowboy Boyd's Rasperry Chipotle Salsa.
Beautiful Upstate New York.
Trips to Chicago, Superdawg and the House of Blues.
Buildings that disappear into the clouds at night.
Seeing where my boy grew up. Seeing how he grew up.
Growing up.
DietCoke,DietCoke,DietCoke,DietCoke,DietCoke,DietCoke,DietCoke...
Margarita on the Rocks!
Mowing the front lawn.
Getting the Mini-Muffin recipe that I have been begging for for years and years, given to my by the folks who consider me the daughter they never had.
Liz visiting my church.
Angela eating my vegan nuggets.
Charlie Brown Christmas.
Huge wheels of cheese on the salad bar at dinner.
Humility. From Pastors, Associate Pastors, Boyfriends, and self.
Baby showers bring May flowers, and pens wrapped in flowers, and flower seeds, and cookies shaped like flowers.
Notorious D's Mom.
Easter.
A date for Forest Park.
Leviticus 8.
My boyfriend getting a sexy new ride.
My funny co-workers who actually get my jokes.
Jesus. Sweet Jesus. Whom I need to pour grace on me, whom I need to carry me, whom I need to teach me.
Al-be-coy-kee.

You are Indescribable

I must have blinked.  It feels like I got on a plane back in early March and it was snowing sideways, and this morning there was a beautiful tree outside my window in it's white blossomy robe.   When did this happen?  Where did winter go?

 

Last year I felt I was starting to thaw out at about this time.  This year feels just as significant, and even more so, yet I can't figure out the word that goes with it. 

 

I have much to say, much to praise, much to mourn.

 

But not today. 

 

Today I soak.

 

Three double oh.

My very second post ever was about one of my most favorite books. 'Gates of Fire' by Steven Pressfeld, depicting the 300 Spartans that held off the Massive Persian Army in a narrow mountain pass for three days.

I always thought it would make a great movie. And it did. I went and saw 300 with Monty and Duster and it was awesome. I guess it got bad reviews, and I was a little scared to see it but this is one of my favorite stories of all time and I felt they did a good job with it. Except for some perhaps unecessary skin.

Where is the honor? Where has honor gone?

Those men would have rather died than live with dishonor. Fires me up I tell ya.

Unbelievable. It's based on a comic book series that was based on a true event, the story portrayed had a little more mythological fantastical license, but the basic story is the same. I do not know why this particular story strikes such a chord with me...

Go see it.. it's good.

Since everyone else is....

Upon returning from vacation and checking blogs most have mentioned, in some form, their favorite college basketball team and their faring in the Madness. I have similar news. The Division III basketball world is already knee-deep into it's madness, and this year both the women AND men from Washington University are going to the Final Four!
This is awesome because it's the men's first time EVER to go, and it's the women's first time to go since I graduated in 2001. The women started this year 1-3 lost their starting point guard to a knee injury and have finished 29-5 overall in true Bear fashion. They have not been a dominate team, but they have found ways to win, and at this time of the year, I think that is more important. Read about them HERE I give my "Yeah Bears" salute. I'll be listening in "washed-up has-been" style this Friday at 6pm eastern on my computer if anyone is looking for me. I've been gone awhile and you all may have forgotten that I exist. I still live in the same house, I have just returned from a much-needed, very restful 10-day vacation. Ski and surf. I did nothing but eat, it seemed, so I have gained about 15 pounds which I look forward to sheding with the advent of spring and the resuming of competitive sports. I still love my long lost friends who I look forward to seeing with the termination of my sentence in Indiana-ville. (ONE MORE WEEK!!!) I still have a boyfriend whose parents I was visiting out in LA for a few days. He still lives here and will be back in a week as well. I have now officially had an IN-n-OUT burger, and have seen a sunset in La Jolla, got a massage in CO, did some skiing, saw some dear friends and took a spin through the Denver Art museum, ate lunch on a roof across from Coors field, and was then subsequently attacked with a debilitating case of the sniffles. I finally gave up and just jammed a tissue up my schnoz and left it there for the duration of the flight. Hey? I ask you, what is more embarrasing: that, or having your nose spontaneously and uncontrollably drip liquid on the magazine your seat mate is reading? Yeah...snot-wick it is. I hope you missed me, I missed you.
I lead a charmed life. Time to start a new season of it. I don't know what it will bring. I have no guarantees. I have a potential new project at work in the works.. (a LOCAL one!) and other than that... I do not know what lies ahead for me. The future is a blackened chicken sandwich... no.. er.. I mean a blackened hole of unknown-ness. I feel rested but scared, and hopeful yet terrified, and answers seem obvious yet impossible to carry out. I went to the retreat...I know God only sees the good, yet I feel he must be disappointed in me, in my selfishness. In spending an absurd amount of money on vacations and massages and movies, yet I didn't miss the little glimpses he left for me: the exit row seat on EVERY leg of every flight (even when I had a "B" boarding pass, the arrival of jane lee's delicious Christmas mix just before I am ready to get into the car for hopefully one last drive to Indiana...

I saw Him in the fact that the condo we stayed in had amongst it's game collection a DELUXE edition of Scrabble, four willing and able participants, and a rocky mountain-ous view that God painted himself...just for me.

I saw Him in the sea lions and their adorable two-by-two waddlings as they sunned themselves on the sand.

I saw Him in the beautiful little four year old I had dinner with. We drew animals on her notepad for two hours.

I saw Him in the vastness of the ocean and in the hospitality of old and new friends.

I saw Him in the embrace of someone who knows me, really knows me, and somehow, someway, loves me still.

I saw Him in the tears.

Takin' a Break..

I am going to be in SoCal visiting for five days and then I'm going to be shooshing down the slopes for a few days in Colorado.

 

I need this...

 

I have been neglecting my blog but when I get back...look out!