A Dolt, or Adult? You Decide...

I have actually looked forward to writing this evening. This really gives me a chance to exhale the day...to think and process. Well, something very significant happened yesterday-- I became an adult. I know it seems silly - but allow me to be very silly for a minute. My grandpa had an anxiety attack early in the morning and called me to tell me his head felt crazy and he needed me to come be with him. I figured he was stressed because my grandmother (who was in the hospital) is the one who fills his pill box each week, and the supply had ended and he needed refills on certain medications. So I calmed him down, fed him (he thought himself helpless) filled his med-box and went to the pharmacy to get his perscriptions refilled. As I was pulling out of the pharmacy, a bizarre sense came over me and almost pulled over. My mouth was open and I had that expression of shock for a few seconds and then exclaimed outloud, "I'm an adult!" My mother laughed at me when I told her the news, and said "I thought you've been that for 3 years!" - which is rediculous...on a person's 18th birthday, no one waves a magic wand that makes them suddenly an adult. However, when I consciously realized that I am responsible for another human being...it happened. Something irreversible took place in me. Crazy I may be...

Further breaking news: My grandmother was released from the hospital today and now I don't have to drive back and forth between the house and the hospital everyday to take care of her and my grandfather. Splendid! But...I have to give her injections in her stomach twice a day..!!!

Now on a more personal note. It never ceases to amaze me how pointed and applicable the daily selections from Oswald Chambers are for me. I have really been fighting doubt this week - not because God is not good, but because I am so bad. I become so frustrated and horrified at the thought that Jesus and Redemption aren't all that I thought them to be. I have been feeling hopelessly ignorant and irredeemable. Just the past few days I have expressed this fear and frustration with a few saints and lo and behold....today's "My Utmost..." hit it dead on. Here's a piece of the text that will give you an idea,

"The greatest fear a man has is not that he will be damned, but that Jesus Christ will be worsted, that the things He stood for -- love and justive and forgiveness and kindness among men-- will not win out in the end; the things He stands for look like will-o'-the-wisps. Then comes the call to spiritual tenacity,, not to hang on and do nothing, but to work deliberately on the certainty that God is not going to be worsted."

And here's the best part:

"If our hopes are being disappointed just now, it means that they are being purified, There is nothing noble the human mind has ever hoped for or freamed of that will not be fulfilled. One of the greatest strains in life is the strain of waiting for God. 'Because thou hast kept the word of my patience.' Remain spiritually tenacious."

Guys, take heart...God is good and He is justified in all he says and does. His word is sure and our calling is not 'for naught'. "Tenacity is the supreme effort of a man refusing to believe that his hero is going to be conquered." This is true even when it comes to our own victory (or defeat) experienced. Those who wait on Him will NEVER be ashamed.

"How's it hangin' Grandma?"

Some of you will recognize this title from the splendid "A Mighty Wind", it was inspired by my experience in the hospital this week with my grandmother (my title...not the movie). It has been a busy week. There hasn't been much time to even think - and the time that I do have has not been producing worthwhile thoughts...so this turns out for my good. Still lacking the resolve that I (left to my own wisdom) would desire, I remain a bit at odds with myself and the blurry world around me. So here I am again in my unproductive reverie. I confess that I knew from the beginning that the title of my blog would be more ironic than descriptive of the content following...so let's not be disappointed!

I feel weariness physically and have expelled a few tears of fatigue. But otherwise I am fine. Praise is much more becoming than all this complaining! To serve my octogenarian grandmother has served my spirit well also. I find comfort knowing that none of this strength or devotion is originating from myself...and this makes me feel safe somehow. I am living meagerly these days...but the Lord lifts my spirit just enough that I have not lost any sense of hope. I don't know how to talk to people lately...even the ones closest to me. I hate to say the same depressing things repeatedly, therefore I would rather shut up (when I honestly don't feel too terrible...but not well enough to be pleasant!) If you are reading this, you are one of my closest friends and understand me a bit by now anyhow.

Well that's enough. I miss Julie - and knowing that I will see her face again in a few weeks makes me smile at least twice a day. It seems that Josh will leave soon also. I don't know how I feel about that either. I suppose I just feel that distinct impression that "it's time". I'm the last one to be drafted into the real world. Perhaps its because I'm flat-footed. Goodnight.

PS) only Josh, Nate and Julie have access to this...as a point of interest.

Valentine's Day

And my plans? I was going to go out to eat with a couple of friends and a couple of their friends. I was to meet them at the gym where they would be working out at 6:30p. I sat in my car reading for a while and then glanced up and saw the girl inside the gym and I felt a sudden flash of anger in my gut. To this moment, I am lost as to what that was or what it meant. All I know is that the flash devoured every desire I had to engage in conversation or expend my energy in socializing tonight. So I picked up my phone and left a message on her cell phone, something about having to get up so early and just wanting to head home and go to bed. Partly true, as it was, the perfect truth was that I was simply no longer in the mood. Rather than Thai I drove through Chik-Fil-A. I was lost somewhere in thought when I heard the boy at the window say, "Hey, aren't you going to smile? Aincha' happy?". I just kinda looked at him and gave him some semblance of a smile and realized that the muscles in my face weren't really willing. But then I thought to myself, "He said 'aincha'...that kinda makes me happy". As I drove down the road leading to my house, contemplating that rush of venom earlier, I saw 2 dark figures dressed in black walking down the road in the dark. I amused myself by imagining that they were Mormon missionaries and hearing them say some chincy thing that would be on a Christian tract about God and Valentine's Day...I am sorry to say that this also made me laugh. But now I am safe at home, away from the terrors of the world and trivial encounters that amount to no more than a spit in the sea. Regardless of what you think, I am not cynical tonight...just a bit too contemplative for my own good.

I feel very good today....God treated me like as though I were the most virtuous woman today - it lifted my spirit. I know what I really am, but He seems not to notice. I suppose perhaps it is He who knows what I really am...and in my ignorance I prefer to be whipped everyday for it. Anyway...enough for tonight.

Compunction

1Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness;
According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions, And my sin is ever before me.
Against You, You only, I have sinned and done what is evil in Your sight,
So that You are justified when You speak and blameless when You judge.

...Hide They face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from They presence,
And do not take Thy Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Thy salvation,
And sustain me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Thy ways and sinners will be converted to Thee.

...The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.

Psalm 51

"It takes the grace of God to act rightly in a world that is inhospitable to righteousness and is contrary to God, so that every moral choice, act, and decision that is virtuous requires the grace of God... Someone likened this to the development of muscle. Muscle grows in response to the tension of opposition. There is a growth of something visible by meeting that which opposes it. So we grow moral muscle by exercising something in the face of that which opposes it"-Art Katz 'Virtue, Power, Healing'-

memma and jules 

Human Suffering and Me

What a selfish, pampered people we are. There are such gross atrocities in this world, and we have not even the capacity for compassion or sympathy. There is no one person or government to blame - we have simply been surfeited and desensitized by an inordinate fascination with ourseves. And again, this not being the result of one decision necessarily, but that inclination that binds us from the moment we enter this world. Last night I watched Hotel Rwanda. It brought back so many thoughts and feelings from my time in Africa. I feel so useless and inadequate - not to mention just pitiful from all my incessant contemplation of my own sanctification! Even in Africa I was overwhelmed by my own selfishness -and moreso by the fact that I couldn't do anything about it. I was busy realising myself how innocuous my understanding of the Cross was. I was in no way fit to minister the gospel to anyone - it had not finished being administered to me!! I had no context in my knowledge of God for suffering. It is no wonder, in a society where our sufferings are minimal and buffered and so easily assuaged by "things". So, I ask, what is to be done? I can not volunteer myself - there is no self-election with God - - I must accept the perfect work He is doing in me now - obeying fully what He has chosen for me today. . . and trust that the Cross will work a perfect death in me and will make me able to be broken bread and poured out wine for others. It can not be for ideals of philanthropic romanticism - but pure obedience and godly sympathy which has the authority and power to transform situations and people. May we know what it is to share in the sufferings of Christ - realizing the death of the old man that serves the lusts of the flesh and demands over-indulgence. And may we know the true, unsullied love of Jesus for every man.

Divine Murmer vs. Human Hubbub

I can't seem to find the middle ground. My spirit either soars or buries its head in the ground. Today it is eating daisies stem first. I feel disconnected - like I'm not getting any traction- - in prayer, in reading, in relationships, etc. I wish things would come to a temporary halt so I can just get caught up...but I feel like life is dragging me slowly behind - days wasted. When I over-analyze, I feel frustrated...but when I don't think about it....I feel dead! I feel silly for rambling like this on an online journal - but perhaps it will assist me in thinking these things out.

Tonight I had dinner with my parents, Dr. Hector and his wife and his nurse and her husband and 4yr old son. It was rather enjoyable, and I spent most of my time making obsene faces at the 4yr old (who had the makings of a mullet) to which he would burst into constipated laughter. Speaking of constipate, I have a new word for you : Constuprate - which means to ravish or debauch. I stumbled upon it while I was checking my spelling of "constipate". Anyway, while I was at the restaurant, I saw the young gentleman (if there is anything gentle about him I do not know as of yet) to whom I referred to as vitriolic or caustic or something in a previous entry. He brought our food to us and tried not to make eye contact with me. I suddenly remembered how after asking, "Has anyone ever told you before that you aren't a very nice person" and my apologies he said very curtly, "I don't care, I'll probably never see you again". It occured to me that this was my third time since that encounter to see him this week. I wanted to tell him, but at the same time I wasn't quite ready to confirm his conjecture of my cruelty (Did you notice my triple alliteration?! Yesssssss)

I'm going to end this, but just food for thought. If you are ever at a restaurant deliberating over whether to be gluttonous or wasteful, just get a doggy-bag.

Leavin' again

Well, Nathan left this afternoon. To be honest, it just didn't feel real. We hugged and then both being very aware of the surreality (?) of it all just offered a casual, "Well, bye..." Nathan was gone for a week getting his job and apartment settled and then flew back for one day and loaded his things into a UHAUL and left again. He said it best in an email he wrote to Julie and I:

"It's strange being back in Tyler one last time before I move for good (and for only about 20 hours, at that). I feel like I'm already living in Albuquerque. It's like that weird awkwardness when you see someone at the grocery store that you haven't seen in a long time and you catch up and then say goodbye - and then you see them again two minutes later on the next isle - do you say hi again or just nervously laugh and hope you don't see them again because you already have that sense of closure that you don't want to have to mess up again?"

Tonight I cooked some good "nershin" soup with Josh for my parents. Not that details are important...but it was Borscht, a Russian beet soup that I learned from my Russian friend, Katya in South Africa. Pretty good. My body doesn't feel too great...but I am finally in bed. I have to get up fairly early to take my grandmother to another doctor appointment. I'm looking forward to next week when she has her knee replacement surgery. I will be with my grandpa for about 2 weeks making sure he eats and exercises! He's a bit crazy and she's deaf...

Well...I hate to keep writing nonsense...enough for tonight.

The Parents

Last night, I had a lengthy discussion with my parents about alcohol. For some reason, my mother is more dogmatic about this one subject than any other. She says that alcohol and Jesus absolutely do not go together - that in other countries it is perhaps acceptable, but in our country it is not a cultural thing. Her arguments are always poor (bless her heart : ) but I did understand the point she was making - even her preemptive strike on Jesus' turning the water into wine. I used to be just as dogmatic as she - and how absurd it seems to me now! In Romans yesterday I was struck again by Paul's response to all these things "whatever is not of faith is sin". Whatever we eat or drink, we must be able to do so with full confidence before God and a clean conscience. But we made a few light-hearted jokes about whether Jesus would be drinking actual wine anew with us in the kingdom of heaven. Later on I came home and they were watching a movie with much sexual content (the equivalent sword to my heart) and I thought to myself, "Jesus may very well drink wine at the wedding feast....but we sure as heck won't be watching that movie"... oh how clever I am .... and how quick to judge! Enough for today.

A New Day

Man, yesterday was terrible. I don't know what it was, but I haven't felt so low in a very long time. I don't have much to say about it. Today has been much better thusfar. The difference? I don't really know. But my advice: Ecclesiastes was not written to be read on days like those. You should read it when you are very happy and can afford to be disheartened a bit.

So, last night around 8pm, I decided to take Les Miserables up to Starbucks and read alone for a while - to finally get out of the house and breathe some different air. Oh, it was fine - but the two guys next to me were raging about some local missionary's comment about the Tsunami being a judgement from God...or possibly so that the countries would be opened for missionaries (he didn't seem to know exactly what had been said...). I couldn't help but look on in astonishment at how arrogantly and confidently one can speak (and with such profuse profanity) of what they know nothing of. His mordant cynicism labored against him as he spoke and I felt strange pity for him. I noted the way he stared at the pretty girls...in a way that made me shiver...dark soul.

About 30mins later, the scene around me changed - the 2 guys left and I enjoyed a moment alone in the corner before slowly but surely the self-acclaimed "outcasts" surrounded me. They actually humored me a bit. I admit that at this point, I was averaging a paragraph per hour in my book which had been replaced by the live poetry of the insecure disenchantment of youth. What a sight they were - tattood and peirced, "brusque" and crude - They were slow to laugh at the jokes made of matters unknown to them. It seems that something in them was afraid to write Jesus off to silly superstition quite yet. They didn't have the same air of depravity that the first guy did...and I almost enjoyed the distraction.