Fighting for Lives

I'm a head-ducker. I admit it. I hate conflict and controversy. My version of Hell is being tied to a chair and forced to watch The Springer Show for eternity (or, alternately, being around my extended family during, well, any time of the year). Add to that the fact I'm gullible and empathetic and a middle-of-the-road walker. I'm not very good at rallying. I don't "do" picket lines or boycotts. I reserve judgment until I'm forced to choose something (and if I can avoid choosing altogether, I remain irritably ambiguous forever).

BUT... sometimes, you can't ignore a problem. Sometimes, you can't shut out the need for change. And change is definitely needed.

So, how'd I get convinced to take a stand? I got involved in a group that goes and loves on some people downtown once a week. I met people with great need, people with names and stories, and I talked to them myself. I started to care, along with the other people in our group. We learned these people have no special interest group, no lobbyists, no advocates with deep pockets.

Which means I have to advocate for them. I have to join other individuals who are passionate about getting people off the streets and into housing, into jobs, into rehab programs.

It also means YOU have to advocate for them, even if it's just a few minutes of your time (or an hour). Because I know you care. This blog doesn't have a big following, so I probably know at least 90% of the folks that read it. And I know you all are people with big hearts.

Here's the gist of the situation: The Toledo-Lucas County (TLC) Homelessness Board has some issues, and longtime homeless advocate (and my friend) Ken Leslie is calling for change. You can find out all about it at 1matters.org. I encourage you to subscribe (RSS feed or email) to stay updated.

I will be at One Government Center Thursday night (12/20) at 7pm for at least an hour. Those who are there will be gathered to recognize the Fight for Housing/National Homeless Person’s Memorial Day and to get our voices heard on behalf of the Homeless of Toledo.

For Amy, Willard, Dave, Keith, Vince, Joseph, Phyllis, Jeff, and the dozens of other men and women we see every Saturday morning - Thank You.

Random Thoughts & Observations

There's been a lot going on with me and with friends/family. But I struggle with just chatting about everything, even online or via email. I guess because I'm lazy - it seems too tiresome to write it all down. And if it's tiresome for me, I can only imagine how it must be for the 2 people who read this blog. But anyway...

Here's a little download of events, thoughts, and general brain vomit:

• One of the things I'm most excited about lately is a group I've been serving with for about 4 months now, called Food for Thought. The group has actually been around for around 7 months, and it's exploding at the seams. The short version is that a group of 10 people with a shared vision of taking sack lunches downtown to the library and giving them away (the first Saturday they took 50 lunches, and it took them 2.5 hours to get rid of most of them) has grown into also providing hygiene products, coffee/hot choc/soup, warm clothing, blankets, refurbished bikes, and the occasional bus ticket or referral to a service for the next step out of living on the streets. It now only takes about 45 minutes to give away 250 lunches, made and distributed by over 30 (often more) volunteers. The best part of it all are the relationships that form; as this week's newsletter stated, "The people we serve can get a meal at several other places. They come to us for the care and the dignity we give them."
• I'm learning that it's hard to make room in your life for real relationships. One of the things that hurts me is so often being on the fringe of others' lives. I'm a high priority with very few people. This is not to say that I want to be high maintenance - I just want to feel embraced. I want to feel wanted. (Don't we all?) I really only know a couple people that do a great job of making me feel welcome. (Thank you!) Yet, this line of thinking brings me about to two things: 1) do I worry so much about coming off as needy/clingy and try to act so self-sufficient that I repell those who would otherwise be more inclusive; and 2) how well do I embrace other people? Am I opening myself up enough so others can warm up to me and feel cared for by me? I'm afraid I'm not a terribly friendly person. :(
• Judging by my spam folder in my work email, I must enjoy sending myself offers for unbelievably discounted viagra and cialis. (We're talking up to 76% off here!) Wish I was as prolific at sending myself offers for unbelievably discounted clothes. I could use some...
• I have friends who, even though I should be used to it by now, continually amaze me. Pastor Steve and Tricia are buying a house in Vancouver, WA (just on the other side of the Columbia River from Portland, OR), the same town in which our friends Laura and Tim live. They're also going through the process to become adoptive parents to a special needs child. They have a great blog going here, and let me extend the invitation to you to pray for them and their future kid(s). I love these folks, even if they are exhausting. :)
• So I don't think I placed at all in that poetry contest, since I haven't heard anything from them. Thanks to anyone reading this that voted for me. It was nice to make it into the finalists. I have notes I took in the summer on a poem which I think is worth writing someday soon.
• These posts are always full of I, I, I... It would be nice not to be so self-centered. :P

That's it. I'm tired and it's past time to hit the sack. Smell ya later.

Messiah

About a half-dozen years ago, I wrote this poem. And then dusted it off and edited it a couple years later. And this year, I dug it up and tinkered with it again. I'm not quite happy with it, but neither am I ready to throw in the towel. It seems a little clunky and - for all the editing (probably more than I've done to any other poem I've written) - unfinished. I don't know. Perhaps you have some suggestions...

Anyway, it seems appropriate for the season, so I thought I'd post it just for kicks.

Messiah

From borrowed manger to borrowed tomb,
From guiding star to Calvary’s gloom,
From swaddling clothes to tear-soaked shroud,
From angelic chorus to jeering crowd,
From given gold to bought with silver,
From Lord of Life to death’s chill shiver,
From warm, sweet hay to cold stone bed,
From Prince of Peace to thorn-crowned head…

From crowded inn to empty grave,
From angels’ care to Death to brave,
From humble stable to heavenly throne,
From refugee to cornerstone,
From shepherds’ search to world celebration,
From helpless babe to Lord of Creation,
From Emmanuel to God in us,
From prophecy to delivered Promise.

Freedom (or, The Day I Almost Bought a New Car)

nce upon a time, I thought growing up meant freedom. Adults could drive, they could buy things, they had the power to veto your happiness. They didn’t have to ask permission to do what they wanted to do. They could make their own decisions. And unless they were bad people who did illegal things, they didn’t get punished by anyone for their decisions.

But all this was, of course, before I became an adult. I could look back with nostalgia on my childhood and see that that was truly my time of freedom, but that idea would be wrong, too. There are trade-offs to every stage, and what looks like freedom at one will look like bondage at another. And vice versa.

The reason I bring this up is that I moved forward (I think) on the road to maturity today. I had the freedom to decide to buy something I wanted very much last night, something I could afford. But during the night, my heart changed. I prayed for wisdom in making the right decision. I reexamined my priorities. I thought about what I wanted for the long-term. And everything pointed to letting go to what I wanted for now.

I could be disappointed in having to wait and also sacrificing the opportunity to get exactly what I want. Yet all I feel is peace and gratitude. My prayers are being answered.

There are consequences for our actions, good and bad. Bad choices may not throw us in jail or even make us bad people, but they build upon each other. They become habits, then they become traps - even addictions. The saving grace, though, for anyone, is that every moment brings a new decision, a new chance to change the flow of your life, even if it means damming it up in places to give it direction. That’s what I did this morning.

I don’t know how much it will change me – how far-reaching the consequences of this decision will be. I know what I want to happen, and a lot of that hinges on continuing to make good decisions, many of which will be more sacrifices. But today, I took my second step towards maturity. My first step was prayer for change, and the third step will be prayer for my next decision, whatever it is – sacrifice or not.

Today, though – today, I rejoice in an adult perspective… and to saying no to myself.

Awe

Last night I returned from a mini-vacation to Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. It was lovely, but not relaxing - at least, not on the whole. We did too much running around on the 4-day trip, plus having to return to work the day after driving over 6 hours to get home (after having been up before 5:30 am) was not my idea of kicking-back. But it was a collection of great experiences.

I went on the trip with Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz in my hand, and a recent [wonderful] conversation about worship on my mind. I guess I'm saying I was in a contemplative mood all through the trip, and so my take on what I saw and felt kept coming back to that theme - worship, what I know it to be and what I want it to be.

The falls are . . . Incredible. Amazing. Breathtaking. Achingly beautiful. Powerful. And more. I got to stand above them, beside them, behind them, and nearly underneath them. I saw them during the day, and lit up at night. I watched the falls in the middle of a hot, sweaty crowd buzzing with excitement, and nearly by myself in a garden. I took pictures of the falls, I talked about the falls, I breathed in the mist of the falls, and I got drenched by the falls. The only thing I could have done to get closer to the falls was to jump in and go plunging over the cliff with the water.

As for that, taking a headlong dive would be difficult. It appears the Niagara Parks Commission was a little nervous on my behalf and erected fences and rails and other obstructions. So, while I was close to the falls, I was held back. Kept safe. No becoming one with nature for me.

Standing behind the falls in the tunnels, with the constant thunder of enough water to fill a million bathtubs every hour pouring over my head, and then beside the falls getting soaked on the observation deck while trying to take pictures without ruining my camera, I felt worshipful. Well, sometimes. It was distracting, what with all the other people in the way, trying to take pictures while getting soaked. In fact, the only thing that marred my trip was other people. Some people were just plain rude. But it was always annoying having to share space with other people wanting the same experience. Tourists getting in the way of my tour.

At the same time, I longed for one moment when everyone would have that individual ah-ha moment of silence, in awe of the spectacle we were all witnessing - but at the same time. The kind of moment when, together, we each transcend both the sameness and the differences of ourselves and are unified by the experience to which we were all drawn.

The closest I got to this was while I was on the Maid of the Mist, at the foot of the Horseshoe Falls. It got to the point where it was too wet for most of us to use our cameras, when we had to put away the devices by which we felt justified to step in front of others in order to get the perfect shot (which, for the most part, gets printed and put into a book at which we rarely ever look). We stopped looking through our various lenses and saw with our own eyes. We were at the foot of the falls, in the middle of the column of mist made as water pounded into water, looking up at a sight that had rendered us nearly unable to control our own experience.

It was then that the water in my eyes wasn't all mist. I was overcome - we were overcome - and we were together in awe.

Ripe

I'm ready to fall in love with Jesus again.

The last time was two years ago, exactly. It was Easter weekend, and I was house-sitting for my folks, who'd taken Abby and gone to Las Vegas. I had resolved to read through the Gospels, but this time... I was going to read it just to get to know Jesus. To try and read his words just as they were printed in my Bible, no extra notes or added theological baggage. To try and forget everything I've ever heard. A hard feat, but one worth pursuing.

Because the result was that my world was radically changed. I fell in love with Christ for the first time, the first time loving him for himself and not what he did for me. I kept reading and reading everyday, and another first happened - I was having consistent daily devotions for first time in my 20-some years as a professing Christian. I started memorizing scripture. I had the most amazing prayer times. I had moments, both in devotions and during ordinary events, when I knew that the Spirit had moved and God had spoken to me. And over it all was this beautiful, awestruck incredulousness that I was finally in the place I had wanted but could never seem to get into for so long. I was walking with God, and I knew it only got better from there.

So what happened? Well, it's necessary to relate what else was going on in my life at the time. I'll try to be as brief as possible, but I can't promise you pithiness.

1) The church I had attended for over 6 years was being led by a pastor that had joined us just that previous August. That Easter was supposed to be this radical relaunch of our church, and so many things had changed to accommodate the new paradigm, many of which I, as a designer and marketing person, had a hand in creating. All lingering bitterness aside and to simply put it, when our relaunch attracted absolutely no new visitors, our pastor made it his mission to take to his heels as quickly as possible and, to ensure less guilt on his part for leaving, tried his best to discourage, disrupt, and sow seeds of hurt and war among members, all to make sure the church closed its doors soon after he left.

2) His leaving in early June left the district in charge of the church, with the church's board acting as best it could to hold everything together in the absence of a leader. Many, many things were discussed and happened and so on, but the gist of it was that, as secretary of the board, I was under the double pressure of being the board and the church's liaison to the district (specifically, to the district superintendent, who experienced many serious illnesses and family tragedies that summer, throwing circumstances into a greater state of confusion). I tried to initiate a time of dedicated prayer for the board to occur every Sunday morning before church. Not once during the 2+ months it was initiated was the entire board (of 6 people) in that room.

3) Meanwhile (and a little before all this), I'm reading Relevant magazine and books like Red Moon Rising and The Vision & the Vow and The Coffeehouse Gospel and The Journey Towards Relevance. My world is opening up. I'm reading the words of Christ and realizing that much of my church life so far has been, not wasteful or pointless, but still missing quite a lot. I begin to think new thoughts, thoughts about my responsibilities as a Christ-follower, a leader-needing-to-become-servant. Desires are blossoming in my heart - visions of the kind of church I want to be involved in - and, as much as I loved (and still love) the members of my church, I did not see my path and its aligning.

4) I put feelers out for a church. (I knew it was a housechurch I wanted to be in, but how do you find a housechurch? They're not exactly found in the Yellow Pages.) So I again turned to Relevant, whose site has a church directory on it. There I found my current community, but did not enter in with them for a few months, trying my best to lead by example, encourage, and keep everyone on the same page at the old church.

5) Finally, after several stressful, confusing, and frustrating months (still having wonderful daily devotions - the only thing that kept me going so long, except for a couple wonderful friends), I came to the conclusion that I was making no difference, and I may as well move on and let the church do the same. And my last Sunday there proved that my efforts had made no impact. I was deeply hurt and heartbroken, and struggled with resentment. I turned to my new community, excited and relieved, but burnt out. Exhausted. Despairing of being able to be worthwhile and impactful.

And that's when, somewhere along the way, I let the daily devotions slip. I went back to mediocrity.

But I'm right here, now, feeling the same stirring. Knowing that I'm being drawn, aching for the same love, being wooed with the most incredible tenderness, challenged to change with the same fierce sincerity and promise of support as before. My heart, my head, my spirit, and my life are ripe to become - oh, please, not only once again but forevermore! - completely abandoned to my beautiful and amazing God. My Jesus. Mine.

Lord, so be it. Help me.

The Dark Princess

With half-hearted apologies, here is a post from my alter ego...

"The Dark Princess." That's what my dad called me in my teens. I used to dress in dark colors and write copious amounts of depressing poetry and try to wring pity from the people around me. (Obviously, it was a joke to my dad.) Now, while not a complete opposite, those whom I interact with often consider me outgoing. Now, I have friends whom I strongly suspect consider me frivolous and shallow. Not exactly what I was going for.

Over the years, I came to realize that personalities like mine (negative) were draining. Nobody I liked being around behaved like me, and they certainly didn't like being around me. But now I'm visiting this issue again from the flip side. And it's incredibly frustrating to think I've changed so much to gain hardly any ground.

I feel more "me" than I was in my teens. No wonder - I spent so much time hiding who I was I convinced myself I was the withdrawn, tragic figure I always presented. But why did I hide? I think, for one, I didn't know who I was. I've always been a couple of steps behind my peers in some ways, and particularly in the identity department. But I also think that part of the HPS (hidden personality syndrome - my own term, I think) was due to several factors - growing up surrounded by adults, certain incidents that happened when I was small, my parents' divorce (I've only just begun to process how that impacted me), a natural tendency to find more satisfaction in my own imagination than in the company of others, and barely any true encouragement for the things I showed an aptitude in (art and writing). And I believe pressure to continue in something because you're proud of your child's talent/ability (not evil in itself, but detrimental if devoid of the next quality) is quite different than nurturing that talent/ability because your child's joy in it brings you joy.

But I think I've digressed a bit. What I'm trying to say is this whole approach of making my self more "attractive" by having a more friendly, assertive personality... it's not working. You may contend that it's due to a lack of conviction, and to a certain extent you may be right. But consider the fact that sometimes I actually am confident in myself, that I know I'm being witty and people are laughing because my comments are genuinely funny, or that I walk away from the mirror in the morning fairly satisfied that I've made myself attractive, or that I finished a creative project that I know has stretched me and exceeded my own expectations.... All those little moments add up.

Yet it only takes one little pin-prick to deflate me, to convince me I'm undesirable, unloveable, unworthy, and will always remain so. Those little self-affirming moments? They weren't bricks I built my self-image with, they were grains of sand.

So much for confidence building confidence.

Hello? Anyone out there?

I wonder if there is a point to me writing a blog. I have a journal, after all. So for what purpose does this blog exist?

I have nothing profound to share. I'm constantly surrounded by people who are much more intelligent and skillful at expressing themselves than I am. But there I go, comparing myself again.

So, I'm still left with this question, and it has only one answer: I'm here for me. I'm here to get attention. I'm here to see if anyone cares what I have to say, even if it's not as eloquent as what they could write.

Yes, I realize how pitiful and selfish I am. But I'm tired of beating myself up for that. I do it all the time, I really do. The sad thing is I had someone compliment me today, and I was too embarrassed to receive it well, probably because I was fishing for it, though I just now realize that. And when you have to ask someone to care about what you do, their feedback, no matter how sincere, loses some of its power.

Of course, I'm back to the whole "looking outside myself for validation" thing. Or, if you prefer, idolatry.

I've also had the thought, why are we so uncomfortable with vulnerability? The only person I cry in front of (and that is rare) is my aunt (please disregard the tears when I'm reading or watching TV or a movie). For crying out loud, I see a counselor, and I never fully open up! And yet I write things on a public forum, trying to be transparent, asking for people to see me for who I really am.

I feel needy as I write this, like I'm asking too much. Am I? You who read this, should I bother? Is it worth your time to read my thoughts? Do you understand what I want, and also that I am scared to receive it?

Because I want honesty. I want your vulnerability, too. I want to be known, and I want to know you. And I want to know... do you want me to know you? Or have you decided that I can't be trusted or that I wouldn't understand?

Am I valuable enough for real communication?

Sweet Somethings: A Better Lottery

In my senior year of high school, I participated in a program called Peer Counselors (also known as Peer Helpers later on, because of the potential liability of calling teenagers "counselors"). To participate in this program, as I had done my freshman year, you had to pay an outrageous fee to attend a weekend training retreat.

This was actually a good thing, as it armed those who attended (and cared to pay attention) with some basic active listening and confrontation/conflict "de-escalation" skills. One of the other perks of the retreat, other than it being a co-ed function *cough, cough*, was the various team- and confidence-building projects we got to do. For example, each participant made a large envelope with their name and whatever other decor they wished to put on it. These envelopes were hung along the perimeter of the largish main meeting room, and all were assigned the task of writing positive comments about each of the other students and inserting them into the envelopes. (Much like elementary school Valentine mailboxes.)

Silly as it may sound, I kept my envelope for many more years than I care to admit. Every now and then, when feeling low, I would pull it out and reread the comments. Eventually, several years ago, I came to two realizations: 1) with just a couple exceptions, I really didn't know the people who wrote those comments anymore, and 2) I was no longer the same person - the comments didn't really apply to me. In a fit of putting my house in order, I threw the envelope away, along with all my old yearbooks and other irrelevant (and some painful) memories.

I did, however, have at the time of the fire a limited collection of more recent "positivities" which became kindling. I sort of mourn their loss. There were cards with notes in them from people I still know - people I very much respect. At the same time, though, I have come to value both the idea that these notes are not meant to be dwelt upon forever and the importance of "paying it forward."

I've decided to make a monthly project of picking a friend or relative and writing them a note/letter/list of reasons they are special to me. People will be chosen at random, kind of like a lottery.

Another project is to replace something I miss very much - my "Happy Thoughts" book. This was a black wire-bound journal plastered with bright yellow smileys, and I had nearly filled it with quotes, quips and favorite poems. Things that made me smile, lightened my mood, or energized me to think beyond my microcosm.

So... here's to new projects and resurrecting old ones. Good luck at winning my lottery!

My Visual DNA

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Virtual Home Tour

For those of you who haven't made it to visit Lou and I, I'm posting some pictures my mom took last time she visited me. I wanted to do this on the anniversary of the fire, but forgot to email me mum in time. So, welcome to my home!

Come on in the front door!

First stop, the living room.

Next is a 360 of the kitchen, cause it's so dang cute!

We really should clean up the front of the fridge. If there weren't so many papers, you'd see the smiley "face" the fridge makes - even it is happy to be here!

A peek out the kitchen door to the deck and the back yard! (Sarah, aren't you glad you live in Texas? No cruddy snow to shovel!)

The all-important throne room! I have a teeny half-bath upstairs (I call it my Poop Closet), but Mom forgot to take pictures of that. It's decorated in an International Travel theme. (You know all those postcards I collect? Yyyeeeaaahhh....)

Finally, my bedroom, though I really don't want you to see it, since it's not done the way I want. But here's the general idea. I will post more pictures of it (plus my office) when they're closer to being "done."

Thanks for stopping by! And if you can make it for real, all the better!

The Anniversary

Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of the fire that destroyed my aunt's condo - our home.

Granted, we are in a better neighborhood, in a house we like much better than the old condo. Granted, the community and our friends and family really stepped up and gave so much more than we could ever have expected. Granted, God is continuing to bless us all the time.

And we definitely do not take these blessings (and lessons) for granted.

But there is something wrong still. It's been a year since the fire completely destroyed Building B at Hidden Cedars Condominium complex. The one that left nearly 16 families, some renters and some owner/occupiers (such as my aunt), looking for a new home. So what's happened in a year?

Nothing.

The grass has grown over the old footprint of the building, but no ground has been broken to rebuild it. While we, and other families, had to move on out of necessity, those who owned units in Building B (such as my aunt) are still paying the price for a home that doesn't exist anymore. And will not exist any time in the near future.

The problem lies with the leadership - the board of owners at the complex. And the majority of the problem with the board is a man by the name of Herbie Howard. Mr. Howard is constantly in the news for various reasons (not all of them positive, which doesn't surprise those who've dealt with him), and is a major real estate "developer" in the region. I use quotations because, in our admittedly limited experience in dealing with Mr. Howard, we've found him to be a slum lord, pure and simple.

I'd go on and on, but there's no reason to set myself up for allegations of libel. Suffice it to write that I'm sure there's a really juicy story about Mr. Howard's business conduct if anyone had the courage to investigate.

Meanwhile, my aunt is stuck with paying for a home that no longer exists.

New Year's Wishes for Friends & Family

I had an awesome time last night, even though my friends felt it vital enough to pause our game of Catch Phrase to watch the ball drop. I've managed to avoid the sentimental musings that come at this time until now, when I just woke up in a contemplative mood.

After a hellacious year (is that still a bad word when you add "acious" to it? if so, and if I've made your eyeballs pop and your jaw drop at my profanity, my apologies), which includes a home-destroying fire, a huge upheaval at work, some deep depression and soul-searching, one HECK of a scary day that ended up with an ambulance call and my aunt still (that would be "as of right now") recovering from a mild heart attack, pneumonia, and a leg infection combo of cellulitis and lymphodema, and a sudden jump start on a popular new-year's resolution (lose weight)... I think I might have a little to say to the people I love (and whoever else stumbles on this blog). (Gee, how's that for a great run-on sentence and a major overuse of parentheses?)

So, at the end of this crazy year, here's what I wish for you, Dear Reader:

May 2007 bring you to better health. Maybe you'll carry through with that resolution you've made, or the one you're ignoring, or maybe you'll get a huge scare like we did. Honestly? Whatever it takes, because I want you around for a good, long time.

I hope you find a deeper level of brokenness and vulnerability than you've ever reached before. I know when I say this the odds are 10 to 1 it will have to come through some crappy circumstances I'm not really wishing on you, but I also know that's what it usually takes to get there. And let God use that brokenness to change your heart, and that vulnerability to make bridges to other hearts. It's so much greater than staying the way you are, because we're all broken anyway, and we might as well move on to where we let it actually make a difference.

I hope someone surprises you with something you've always wanted. It's nice to have people come through like that, as long as it doesn't happen all the time.

I also hope you get denied and rejected now and then. It's good for us. It reminds us to trust God, and rejection can sometimes help us identify with Him.

And I really, really hope you discover for yourself (or rediscover) how much you are loved. If by no one else, then by God. But chances are that if you're taking time to read this, you're family or friend. And I love you. I hope I'll be able to show it better this year, that my love will be more mature and sensitive to the needs around me, but just in case.... I love you. Remember that when I act stoopeed or selfish or even offensive. Cuz we know that's pretty much a given.

That's it. Well, not really. But I think I've been mushy enough. Maybe I'll add to it next year.

But until then, be blessed. Be hungry. Be satisfied, and hungry again. Be loved and loving. Be joyful, and spread it around. Be changed.

Love,
Amanda