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.