Welcome to the world

This is what my brother-in-law wrote this evening:


Cecilia was born at 6:45 p.m. MT. Cecilia is exactly 8 lbs, and
20" long. Happy Birthday Cecilia! Praise the Lord!

Grant

Welcome to the world Cecilia Grace. May you live a life that fulfills your precious little name, full of grace, and may the Lord be gracious to you.

Your Mom's blog

My mom has a blog now. I made it for her on Christmas Eve. She hasn't really blogged about anything, but my plot is to get her to start writing- she really is a good writer- by asking random people, like you who are reading right now (yes, you...I'm talking to you) to go to her site and comment and tell her to start writing.

In the meantime, a baby is going to come out of my sister tomorrow. I still think the whole thing is really a little freaky- slightly reminiscent of aliens. The whole idea that life grows inside of other life, completely dependent, like a parasite, just weirds me out a little. But I get a beautiful niece from it all, and I don't have to be there for the blood and mucus and gross stuff, so I think I totally get the better end of the deal. Say a little prayer for health. I think that Becca's a little freaked out right now.

Holy protector, wrap the mother and child in your loving arms and keep them both near. Whisper peace over the worried mother and father. Now and forever. May it be so.

The results are in...

I got my LSAT scores on Friday night. Let's just say that I won't be going to law school next year, after all. So now you all know, and you don't have to ask anymore. Merry Christmas to me. I have no idea what I will be doing next year, but that's pretty much in line with the way that I have run the past four years, so why should instability be anything new for me?

More to come about Christmas (and my new Nano... I'm trying not to love it toooo much).. to come.

Goodnight for now

weird

I'm sitting in our little closet of an office, and I "KNOW" (cognitively) that there is no one else here, and that the door is locked. But I swear, I keep hearing other people moving around. I have been here before on a Sunday when I know that no one else was here, and I heard things. I think this place is haunted.

Uncomfortable

I was talking to a friend the other day about a concert we had been to, when he said, "This might sound weird, but I realized that I'm really uncomfortable in large crowds of Christians."

I know this might sound weird, but I totally agree.

Have you seen the movie "Saved"?

My favorite line was when three of the girls kidnap the one who has "gone astray" and try to "pray her back to salvation" while she is bound and gagged in the back of a van. When she gets free and is walking away, one of the girls throws a Bible at her, hitting it with her. The girl turns around and says, "this is not meant to be a weapon."

I thought the movie, while a little crass an inappropriate at times, was also biting in it's honesty about Christian sub-culture.

building houses of sugar

I'm so excited! Next week I am going to build a house of sugar with one of my favorite families not related to me by blood. This will be our third annual gingerbread house-making. This is a picture of the house that we constructed last year-- a wonderland of blissful calories, I know. It was girls against boys, and we SOOO kicked some boy butt.

And that is Joy Commander, high on sugar. Sometimes during the construction of the house the building materials get eaten. Suprising, I know, I know. By the end of the night we are all a lot of fun, though :).

What is the cost of freedom

Someone once said, "I do not agree with your opinions, but I would fight to the death so that you can have them." If I wasn't so lazy I would look up who it was.

The University of Alabama (War Eagle) has gotten itself into quite a pickle recently. It seems that one of the staff writers (a female, nonetheless) for the campus newspaper the Crimson and White has begun a sex column. I went online and read some of the back issues and it's pretty raw at times speaking about condoms, masturbation, etc. It has caused quite an uproar on campus. Some students have spoken for and against, Parents have spoken out, and some alumni have even written in, threatening to pull scholarships.

It's almost funny to me. As if parents are realizing for the first time that their sons and daughters might be having sex in college. Oh, no, surely not here in the south, where the magnolia trees bloom and the pearl necklaces shine and everyone is pretty. Things like that do not happen.

Even if they do, we do not talk about it.

So maybe that is the difference. Universities around the nation have had sex columns for years-- people admitting that it happens on a campus where the hormones of 20,000 men and women are pulsating as they roam the pathways.

I'm not saying that I'm for the column. Well maybe I am. But I'm not for it for the reason that most people may be for it. I don't agree with a lot of what the writer talks about. I think that she cheapens sex and cheapens herself in the way that she talks about it. I think that by making it so blasee she also can make others think that it is ok to sleep around without any emotional or spiritual repercussions-- and I don't believe that this is true. However, I don't believe that we should pretend sex is not happening at the University of Alabama. Jeeze people, it's happening with my 14 year-olds at Ramsay High school. Let's be real.

I also believe in freedom of speech. There are some crass republicans out there that want to give huge tax cuts to rich people and cut programs to low-income families to pay for the deficit. I strongly disagree with it, in fact, it makes me want to hurt them and I shout at the radio, but I do not believe that my personal views are reason enough to pull them from their post at the paper. If I truly believe in the freedom of thought and speech, then I have to fight for the thought and the speech that enrages me. The one that I disagree with so much that it makes my blood boil. It is only then that I can say that I believe in the freedom of speech.

Do you agree?

What would you do for love?

A woman was sentenced to three years in prision for abuses in Abu Ghraib. She said she was trying to please her boyfriend.

The other night I was reminded of Susan Smith, the woman who dressed her two children for the day, strapped them into their seatbelts, talked to them about the day- peanut butter sandwiches and Dora, drove to a boat ramp, released the emergency break, and for a week told the world that they had been kidnapped by a black man. She was trying to please her secret boyfriend.

But these are extremes, right? These are the things that made the news. These are the crazy people.

Today I was talking with someone and she is really struggling with life right now. She met a guy, promises were made, and now-- three years later-- the promises have been broken. She moved to a new city for him, ate every meal with him. His friends were her friends. She is having to re-learn life. How do you re-learn life? Re-learn to shop for one, cook for one? Wake up to one. She's not crazy, but right now she feels like she is.

I heard a guy talking about the orientation that we have in our love toward God, and he spoke of how all of the realtionships that we are in are broken. We underestimate God, because we can only think of his love in human terms.

We can't imagine a relationship with no brokeness. How can we imagine love personified when all we know is being hurt. Sure there is some good, but it is always mixed up, sown among the wrongs we have chosen to forget, or at least move past.

lsat, lshmat

It was fine. I won't know my score until Jan 3, officially. I hear that last year they sent out the scores on Christmas Eve. Seriously, the LSAC people are not nice. We're talking evil, evil.

On the other hand, one of my kids was frustrated with me today for telling her to be quiet and pay attention, and she said, "You need Jesus Ms. Kara."

All I could stumble out was, "Well...that may be true, but what I want you to do right now is read your article."

Thanksgiving

I have been in a funk lately. There are a lot of reasons for it, and I won't get into all that, but just know that if there is a state of existence that is funk- I am in it. Going home for Thanksgiving, I was vacillating between being happy about the vacation and not wanting to make the trip. I actually had the thought, "What do I have to be thankful for?" (refer back to the earlier funk-like mood). So here I am to declare publicly a few things that I'm thankful for.

Thank you Mom and Dad for encouraging me, but letting me be scared, even when I'm not supposed to be. Sorry I'm not always honest with you about it. Thanks for the flowers. They really are very pretty. They are on the stand by my door, so I see them every time I walk in or walk out (or anytime I'm anywhere in my apartment, since I can literally see my door from anywhere in my apartment).

Thanks Susan for sending me a LSAT book. I'm not sure if I like the book or the note inside the book more. We'll see how it all ends up.

Thanks Ken for the prayer that you prayed Sunday. You articulated so many of the things that my heart has been longing for, but I am too stubborn or too tongue-tied to express. I truly do pray that God uses this season to give us a fresh vision and renewed taste of his spirit, and that he teaches us to tell time. It was perfect.

Thanks Jimmie Anne for hugs and kind words every time I see you. Even when I seemingly shrug them off, they are always salve for my soul.

Thanks Band for not giving up on me even 100 miles away.

Thanks Steph for listening to the things that I don't want to tell you.

My stomach hurts

I'm taking the LSAT on Saturday. My stomach hurts. I thought that I would study more over the break. I didn't. I needed a break.

Blessing

I had a pretty intense day yesterday. I left for Macon county at 6 in the morning (most of you know I'm not really pleasant in the morning...espically THAT early in the morning), my co-worker and I screened about 120 kids in three different HeadStarts for vision problems, packed it all up, drove back, and went to debate practice. The kids had decided that they didn't want to have practice on Tuesday, rather they would like an EXTRA long practice on Monday. We finished at 9, and then I took 2 of the kids home. I got home (for the first time all day) at about 10:30.

There are a lot of things that happened yesterday that I would love to share with you- some that I'm sure i will over the course of the next couple of days, but one thing that keeps sticking in my mind is how exhausted I was, but how, being there with the kids was really good last night. So many days are so frustrating and hard, but yesterday was really just such a great day. They all worked so hard and were so kind.

At about 7 we went and got them Chinese food. Before we started to eat, one of the kids said, "We need to have a blessing." One of the boys was nominated, and he stood up as we all sat around this table we sit at on a daily basis, and this fourteen year old boy said something similar to these words:

"Father, thank you for showing us your glory. Continue to lead us in paths of rightousness. Thank you for this SpeakFirst team, for they have enlightened me so much. Help us all to be in love with each other, because I really do love each person on this team."

Why do am I always so prideful to think I have anything to offer these kids when they have so much to teach me?

Grindingly clear and the illogic of it all

Most of you know that this year I'm working for a non-profit, and I am an Americorp VISTA. While doing this year of service we have a really shady insurance policy. I think that it's really stupid that the theory behind Americorps, especially the VISTA program is to work at the grassroots level to try to reverse the root causes of poverty. I would say that one of the root causes of poverty is the lack of good heath insurance- especially heath insurance that covers, and thus encourages, preventive health care. And yet, while we are doing this service- a service that I think is a pretty big deal- we are given a health care policy that is a JOKE. If your tooth falls out ON THE JOB, we will pay for it to be fixed, if your eye starts hemmorging while you are sitting AT THE OFFICE, we will pay for you to see a doctor, and so on. So really, people are working to change people in poverty, meanwhile we are really contributing, as well. Now on to my story.

So I have been really freaked out lately worried that I have a cavity. Because of the aforementioned insurance policy I was considering driving to Mexico, buying a bottle of Tequila and taking my chances, but then I realized that if they took more than one tooth, or the wrong one, this would only further diminish and hope that I might have left of EVER finding someone to marry me. I can see it now,
"What did you think of my friend Kara"
"Oh, you mean the snaggle-tooth girl?"
"I told you she has a nice personality."

But I sucked it up, and made an appointment with a dentist recomended by some friends from DF. I have always been pretty sensitive about my teeth. I had braces for five years. That is a really long time. When I got them off- when I was fifteen- I had had them on for a third of my life. That's a big commitment to some hardware, you know? And then there's always the fact that the dentist is seeing inside your mouth- a place very few people really look. It's like being naked in front of someone else. Maybe some people (Eve) get used to that, but still, there is vulnerability there. I know that they are going to be talking in the break room when I'm gone,
"Can you believe that molar?"
"It looked like she never flosses"
"I wonder what she ate for breakfast! Man"
And you're not even there to defend yourself.

So as the lady is cleaning away she asks me if anyone has ever told me that I grind my teeth. I think of all the people that have slept with me in the past four months- none- and tell her, "Nope, no one's ever mentioned it." When the dentist rolls around he informs me that I DO NOT have any cavities (HURRAH! I'm wondering where my sticker is. I really feel like after all the angst I have put myself through I should get a "no Cavities" sticker like I did when I was little), but that he thinks that I grind my teeth in my sleep. This is crazy.

SO I'm clear. Maybe I'm just stressed out. Who knows. No one is here to tell me, so I'm just going to grind away. I though that the knocked out tooth would keep the suitors away (I wish they were still called suitors), but now I have a bigger issue to deal with. Maybe I should reconsider the bottle of Tequila and just knocking them out.

I may not be able to dance....

(setting: Homewood High School Debate tournement, they have just posted the match-up for the much anticipated first round of debate, about 30 minutes late. They tape the postings on a wall, creating a scene much akin to a class of 60 all scrambling to find out what they made on the semester exam, and they drop sheets with the postings at a table in the front. One of our debators, Chrystalline, goes to grab a sheet and bring it back for the whole team.
The anticipation is growing.)

LaVentrice: Look at Chrystalline taking her time....look...she's just talkin to that white girl.
(me standing there just staring at her. She looks over at me. touches my shoulder)

"Oh. You Black in my eyes."

I told her I wasn't sure what to say to that, but I think that it might be the best complement that I have gotten all week.

In light of some recent conversations...

I thought I would share this.

"You were called to freedom, brothers, Only do not use your freedom as opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another. "

Gal 4:13

Lost in Translation

I have often talked about how sometimes words just don't communicate. Today was one of those days. I felt like i was just talking and people were responding, but it came out as "Hope Bread Remarkbt". Was it that I wasn't using the right words...or was it all just lost in translation?

Burn

"It's not a political revolution or a Muslim revolution," said Rezzoug. "There's a lot of rage. Through this burning, they're saying, 'I exist, I'm here.' "

"We want to change the government," he said, a black baseball cap pulled low over large, chocolate-brown eyes and an ebony face. "There's no way of getting their attention. The only way to communicate is by burning."


These quotes came from an article on the riots in France. The people, wanting to be noticed, wanting attention. The only way to communicate is to burn.

How much fodder must have been stuffed into this cannon or emotions before it exploded? What is an adequate response? From the government? From those around? From us, miles away?

The hope of justice, of eqality, personified through fire.

I can't make this stuff up

I went to this concert and the opening woman played a song called supermodels. She talked about how her friend was having a bad day, and she was trying to convince her that things like character, and inner beauty were more important, and then the most georgous woman floats by. The chorus of the song says something like,

"I hate supermodels. It's not that any of us actually know one. I just hate being compared to them."

It was a good, funny, entertaining song. Because she's right... who does know a supermodel?

The other day in practice Stephen calls and says, "I think that my friend is going to come by and be a guest judge for practice this afternoon."

"Ok, sounds great."

"And then I think that I might have her talk for a little bit. You know, the whole, 'follow your dreams bit."

"Um.... ok....what does she do?"

"She's Miss America"

Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.


But then she called and said she couldn't make it. Stephen passed the phone around to let them talk to her. It was lame, but I can't say that I was disappointed.

Ms. Singerwoman, you're wrong. Some people do know them. And bring them to practice. To talk about following your dreams. Welcome to my life.

How long?

I ran in a 10K this morning. While most of you were still in your bed, I put my shorts on and laced up the tennies and took a stroll through downtown Birmingham. We started at City Hall, which is right by Lynn Park. This is such an interesting part of town, because a couple blocks down there is the civil rights museum, 16th street Baptist church, and it was here, in this park that many teenagers met to march.

Truly this city has so much history.

Today was a warm day. Warm, especially for November. By the end of the run- about 9, it surely was about 65 or 70 degrees. Today the streets were filled with runners, cheer-ers, water passer out-ers, and a few random pedestrians.

But I have run this course before, and the scene was different. Sunday morning, I ran it about 7:30, and it must have been about 30 or 35 outside. As we ran the area around Linn Park the benches were filled with people bundled up trying to keep warm from the night, or smoking, and hoping that the nicotine filling their lungs will help them forget that their fingers are numb. Another friend said that he went out for a long run that morning and started at 5, before the sun came up, and as he was running under an underpass he almost tripped over a man still asleep under the bridge.

It is when I think about these collisions of reality- the footprints of the past mingling with the shallow inhalations of the present, that I scream out with the Psalmist and wonder.... How long o lord.

Where is the justice that was promised? Is this really the kingdom come?

Most of you know, because I talk about it all the time, that I work with teenagers. I must have a death wish, or really think that I am a lot cooler than I am, because for some reason I have chosen to do this. Last night was a particularly frustrating night, and in between the constant criticism of my clothes, hair, (insert other physical tangiable feature including race) there are times when they are just rude. I have to remind myself that part of this is literally because developmentally they are at this stage in life where they cannot see beyond themselves, and they are so screwed up in developing their own freakin identity that how can they even begin to imagine that they are being hurtful to me.

But for some reason sometimes when I'm around them I sink back to thier level and I feel like I'm in high school again wanting to be a part of the cool crowd. Last night as I was leaving practice, I was thinking about something that I wrote earlier this year about rejection... and how it really is something that we... that I... deal with just by being a human.

In spite of knowing that the table of the wedding feast is big enough for all, I still want to be invited to sit at the cool kids table.

wwj....drink

Tonight I went to a comminuty group for a church that I've been visiting for the past couple of months. It basically consisted of a group of people my age getting together, drinking wine, making pizza and laughing (and there was a little dancing, but I won't get into that right now). Though we didn't pull out the Bible, or have some forced, formal discussions, we had community. It's interesting to me thinking back on my time at Harding, the fact that if I had done what I did tonight, four years ago, I would have been kicked out. I did nothing illegal, immoral or unethical, and yet I technically could have been dismissed from school and would not have a college degree. So funny to me. Where I come from.

And then tonight I was thinking about Jesus and him hanging out with his friends. Never does it say, "Jesus and the disciples had a meal, and after the meal, at the appointed time, Jesus pulled out the torah and began to interpret the law. They then took prayer requests and Jesus prayed for them all." Why has this become the perscribed way to do community? I think that Jesus sat around and drank wine with his friends and laughed and talked about the things that were deep on his heart, but it wasn't because it was a forced aloted time.

I pray that my life, and the time that I spend with others is redeemed into community.

decisions

...so I realize that some of you keep up with my life through this weird blog thing...and when I write about something, make a question about something, and then do not follow it up, you never get the answer. I forget that you are not walking alongside me...or hearing all the voices in my mind with me (though that, I will admit, is probably for the better). So I'll let you in on a few minor decisions I have made.

1. I have not bought a TV as of yet. It's still just me, the blog, and NPR for the time being.

2. I am going to take the LSAT in December. That gives me one month to study for it. We'll see how that goes. I'm sure you all have opinions on this. Feel free to comment or e-mail me, but know that I may or may not heed them.

3. I still don't like Roy Moore, and it's not because he is a republican.

I haven't been blogging much lately. Maybe this week I'll have some interesting things to report.

FocusFirst

CLICK HERE to read An article on FocusFirst...another initiative of Impact (where I work). It's not as good as the one in the Birmingham Weekly...but it's press, and press is always good for us.

Curosity is only vanity. We usually only want to know something so that we can talk about it; in other words, we would never travel by sea if it meant never talking about it, and for the sheer pleasure of seeing things we could never hope to describe it it others.

-Pascal, Pensees

I know...

..you all are reading, and yet very few of you are saying anything back.

In Arkansas safe and sound.....well as safe as one is in Arkansas in the house they grew up surrounded by sights and smells that are weird but intrinsically familiar. It's 2 and I'm just going to bed because I've been watching TV. I miss TV. I think that I might buy one this weekend. No official decision has been made yet, but it probably is going to happen. Perhaps the fact that it's 2 and I'm just going to bed should be evidence that I don't need the dumb thing, though, right?

leaving

got sucked into a quiz....

...leaving for Arkansas

....I've said this to some of you, but I really think that if Roy Moore gets elected as governor of Alabama that I will have to leave the state for four years. I will really have no choice.

Think about that when you are voting, people. It's him or me.

How can people really think that he is able to lead the state? It hurts my stomach.

ok, off to the car for 6 hours. I have a copy of Cornell West's "Democracy Matters" book on CD. I'm sure I'll come back even more on fire.

You are a Social Liberal (68% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (11% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Whatever is....

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to share this morning about my writing. This was somewhat bizarre to me for several reasons:

1. in my human-ness I don't really think that I really express profound thoughts

2. I just joined this community... no one even knows who I am

3. Who am I?

Like Moses babbling on and making excuses, I thought for sure Ken must have meant to ask someone else, and accidentally sent the e-mail to me.

And then he sent another e-mail (when I didn't respond to the first one).

Greg began the service with the passage from Philippians (which I used to have in my kitchen- thanks Anna)

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy- think about such things...and the God of peace will be with you."

He spoke about the subjectivity of this laundry list and how it flings open wide the doors to finding God in our everyday life. For truly things such as truth, purity, and excellence are all around us in the everyday things that we love. And there the peace of God is. So we talked about the God of creativity.

I talked this morning about how most of my writing really started in China- when I needed an outlet for all the experiences that were taking place around me. I likened my writing to the prisoners that lined the halls of the academe leading up to David- showing what the stone longs to be: a figure set free by the chisel of the artist.

Beforehand I had been asked to share about writing and read a piece that I had written. Like a good student looking for shortcuts, I combined the assignment and wrote about writing. This is what I read:

For me it's about validation: when words on a page become tangible artifacts of emotions that otherwise would be lost to the intangible time and space of the moment.

The experience happens and it's gone, but if my mind snaps a picture quick enough for my synapses to form a thought that my fingers find acceptable and noteworthy, then the ink rubs down the passing of time, however imperfect, biased, cynical, naive, or rose-colored the recollection may be.

The intangible is now tangible.

For me it's about validation. Somehow as I use these senses, longing to communicate my perception of what my fingers feel, how my tongue tastes, what my ears hear and in the great symphony of it all-- how my mind arranges and tries to make sense of it all, I find that sometimes I connect to others. Though we all want to be unique, there is also a deeper longing for understanding and commonality with our fellow man.

Though I know that you and I will never be able to see eye to eye, I want to at least be able to look at your face. And connect.

And know that even when the thoughts are not profound or politically correct or spiritual that they can still connect.

For me it's about validation. Validation that these experiences are real- by communicating them, by recording them, even if they are never seen again, I give them life. I release them from the bars within my mind and allow them a life of freedom.

For me it's about validation. That I can hear and know that I'm being heard. That even when my life is boring and mundane there is still life to write about. Finding meaning at the car wash or thinking about community while making salsa, these are not profound things, but for me it's about validation.

A conversation

I got a call from a friend today. This is my friend who is in rabbinical school, and she was coming home from the high holidays. She started off the conversation saying she was just getting off one of the most interesting plane rides. Her next words were ones that I am never quite sure how to react to.

"I sat next to a man that was church of Christ."

Slight pause... "Oh really." "...and how was that?"

"Kara, we had the most interesting conversations. We talked about everything from homosexuality to abortion. "

I think that I was still holding my breath at this point.

"It was so good Kara. "

I let out a deep sigh and continued to listen to her excitedly tell me about more of the conversation.

"I know that it is the kind of thing that I'm going to really have to think about and digest for a couple of days, and it will probably involve a conversation longer than you have time for right now, but it was strange, Kara. I mean, I left the conversation feeling Jealous of him."

The word bit me. Like a cheetah springing out of no where, it just ran up and took hold. What an interesting word for her to use.

"He was just so consistent. I definitely didn't agree with him on everything. Actually on most things we disagreed, but he was consistent in everything that he said......

... I was not able to find any hypocrisy in him."

Another bite. Another blow.

"Everything was so clear to him. Everything was black and white, and he was living out what he believed. I just realized that I don't have to be scared of people like him."

"I didn't ask him if he thought that I was going to hell because I'm Jewish. I'm sure that he does, so I thought it best not to ask him. But I bet he would say it in a respectful way."

I talked about how sorry I was for the lack of consistent Christians that she had met in the past. I spoke of how if we who claim to believe what he claims to belief really believe it, then that type of consistency should be the rule, rather than the exception.

Forgive us Father when we have failed to be consistent. Forgive us when we have displayed hypocrisy. Forgive us for defining a social culture of Christianity that is not always consistent with the gospel.

Isn't it interesting

... when you find someone else's blog, only to realize that they have blogged about you. I'm in a quandry now, because I'm kinda hacked, but in the tension of saying something, or not saying something, so I can keep reading the blog incognito. The internet is so interesting.

Then, today, I linked to another blog... and either I'm paranoid, or I think that someone else is talking about me. I swear, I either need to get a life or I need to stop linking to people's blogs.

Hot off the press

For those who live in B-ham, go by and get the latest copy of the Birmingham Weekly. Cover Story is the bomb!!! I'll try to link it up soon!! YEAH!!!!

It's October...

you know what that means for some....Chicagoween. I love this picture because I really do have the coolest friends. Sorry to break it to the rest of you who aren't my friends.

someone said to me today

....have you ever thought about going into the ministry? I said. I was raised (half)Church of Christ. For me that meant planning a VBS for 5 year olds. Making a paper mache whale in the summer.

She said, "Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be hard."

Maybe I'll go into the ministry. Whatever that means. Maybe I already have.

Party like it's 5766

Happy New year.

Last night, like every good Christian should, I went to Rosh Hashanah services. Though I arrived late, was told I had to have a ticket (still not totally sure about that one) and sat alone without a book (an essential), I relished every minute of it.

I really love Judaism. My best friend in high school, and my debate partner (also a close friend) were both Jewish, and I had the amazing opportunity to learn a lot about Judaism, and about Jewish sub-culture in the south. As we all grew, so did our faiths, and two summers ago I spent 10 days with Katie in Israel. She was living there for a year- the first year of Rabbinical school- and I was fresh from a graduate assistantship in Italy. I sometimes like to think that I have changed so much, but when I am with her, I find that she reminds me of the consistency and loyalty a friendship that doesn't require the maintainance of weekly phone calls, but is always authentic when it happens. From her I have learned so much about friendship, but I have learned a lot about my faith, as well.

It is through Judaism that the promises are fulfilled. I love when Paul says that the root supports us. It is ONLY through Judaism that we are supported. To sit in the sanctuary of the temple on Highland Street in Birmingham, Alabama, and to hear the Shema recited-- to hear anyone calling on the name of El 'Elyon, the MOST HIGH God. I close my eyes and wonder what RoshHashanah services would have been like 2030 years ago. Many of the apostles still observed and followed Jewish customs. What would they have been thinking to hear a sermon on the beginning of another year, waiting for redemption, and know that the prophesy had been fulfilled. It takes my breath away, and I wonder if we have forgotten who the true El 'Elyon is?

Because Jesus became personal do we forget of the vastness of God?

I think about the way that Judaism is replete with ideas of social justice and I wonder...

Because Jesus fulfilled the promise of redemption and justice, do we now not offer it to our own brothers?

Have we, as believers of the fulfiullment, missed something by not understanding what it means to say, "How long oh Lord?"-- Yearning for a long promised king? Or, just as they were waiting for the messiah, Have we simply replaced the question, failing to live the kingdom here on earth, and saying, "How long oh Lord" until you return?

In essence are we still waiting? Are we living in 5766?

Who

...do you thank when you have a really good day, if you don't believe in God?

How trying to find a church is like trying to find a husband

I must begin by stating how BRILLIANT my friend Stephanie is. She was the one who brought these thoughts to my attention, and much of the thoughts that are about to come out were first birthed through our conversations: joys and frustrations. This post is actually a combination of what I thought was going to be several blogs.

I think that finding a church is much akin to trying to find a spouse. The beginning is always awkward and usually pretty frustrating. They try to impress. You try to impress. They want you to want them. You hope that you fit with them. It's this right foot-left foot dance that we all play when trying to fit into a new social situation.

The most striking similarity is that we have the high ideals and expectations of what we want in community, in a church, in a companion, but most of the time because we live in reality, we realize that there is a game of give-and-take that we must allow. Just as there is no such thing as the perfect spouse, there is no such thing as a perfect body of believers. Whether you are speaking about the external things we judge by- the style of worship, the location of the building, the comfort of the chairs- or the more "internal" things- the hospitality, the sense of mission, the message that is being spoken- there is no place that is going to give you everything that you are looking for.

So, just as in dating, I must decide what is essential to me. I must try to figure out what I can live with- the fact that he spits a little when he talks, the way he uses his socks as napkins when he's eating and driving in the car, or the way he raises his voice when he gets defensive. What are the things that I can tolerate in an attempt to accept the fact that no one is perfect?

I've been thinking, and blogging a lot about community. One of the most profound thoughts about it came while being whipped around on a tube by "Steak 'Um Bill Walters" at the lake house a couple of weeks ago. No one else in the world would be hanging on for dear life with water splashing in their eyes, and discoursing profound thoughts about community except Stephanie and I.

I think that true community is the cumulative collection of community that we have built thoughout our lives.

That may seem simple, but to people like us- who have traveled so much, me being someone who has somehow forged a life in four places (two states, two different countries) in the past five years- it is comforting to know that I carry with me these communities. I do not leave them behind in search for new community, but I am just adding and building onto the new cumulative.
SO I'm still searching for community here in Birmingham. Still searching for my "mate". I have found pieces of it. I have been going to a church regularly, which is good. I have even been invited into homes. Warm homes, homes of really really good people. Though I still come home to an apartment alone, I have to believe that there is a trail of people that follow me in the door. My cumulative community.

True Annie Dillard

Again, I know, even as i hunt and peck for these letters, that if I write this I run the risk of you not continuing on down to read the two posts from last night (I have been a blogging MACHINE, baby- what a little MoZilla will do for you- thanks to all those who helped get the old laptop running)

I wanted to write out the real Annie Dillard quote. I was paraphrasing before- relying on a two year lapse in memory. But here it is in it's real flesh. I love it. (This is the whole paragraph from whence the quote came.)

" It is still the first week in January and I've got great plans. I've been thinking a lot about seeing. There are lots of things to see, unwrapped gifts and free suprises. The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But-- and this is the point-- if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple thrill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat kit paddling from its den, will you count that sight a chip of copper only, and go on your rueful way? **It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.**"

At the risk of you not reading my newest post....

I think that if I post this, you will miss the really profound post I just wrote (ha) BUT I wanted to brag on my kids, and tell the blog-o-sphere that on Saturday we entered 4 teams in the Vestavia Novice Tournament, and one team one fifth, and another team came in... FIRST.

This is the first time a SpeakFirst team has placed. These are city school kids debating against rich white suburban kids. And they spanked them. And made me proud.

My life for others. He is not fool who gives away what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.

Thicker than.....

blood.

That's what this post is about.

(aside: I do want to say, though, that I have a great post in my head (with all props to Stephanie when due) relating to community and dating- it's gunna be good, so stay tuned)

blood.

I have it. Some people don't. Or not as much as they might need. So I figure, hey- I'm poor, but I can still give away my body for humanity. At least I wasn't selling plasma and pocketing the profit, you know?

I go to the red cross- the blood taking experts, mind you- and I want to point out here, that the total amount of time for this all to transpire was about 2 hours. I was supposed to be at work.

Resuming- I went to the Red Cross. They asked me lots of questions about my blood. Is it conditioned in a body that weighs enough? Check. Have you taken it to another country? Check. (but not a "dangerous one"). Have you allowed it contact with any other suspicious blood? No. On and on we went about sex, prostitution, diseases... I felt like I was in the Old Testament. Finally I was deemed donor worthy, and all allowed to advance to the next level of the game.

In this level, I was poked, prodded, my circulation cut off with a rubber tourniquet , my circulation cut off with a blood pressure cuff, all while continuously shifting and changing the characters- each nurse calling someone else to "check this out". Finally one nurse thinks she's up to the task, and she digs in.

People say that it's like a "bumble bee sting" and then you don't feel it. BS. I felt every single time I squeezed the freaking ball to give away ever millimeter of blood. It hurt. A lot. Then the vain blew. My whole arm is blue and black and they didn't even get a pint of blood.

I ate some cookies and left.

I think about ministry with the people that Jesus called "our neighbors". A lot of time it's hard. It hurts.

And sometimes in trying to give life to someone else, our veins blow, and the whole thing gets called off.

Messy fellowship.

In a church bulletin I got this week someone wrote about the 48 laws of power, one being:

Infection: Avoid the Unhappy and Unlucky
You can die from someone else's misery-- emotional states are as infectious as diseases. You may feel you are helping the drowning man, but you are only precipitating your own disaster. The unfortunate sometimes draw misfortune on themselves; they will also draw it on you. Associate with the happy and fortunate instead.

When I read this I see the words and the ridicuousness of it all. Of course that doesn't make sense- that is totally contradictory to the gospel message. But when I look at my life. The words of my life, and who I choose to associate with, and sometimes I think we have to take pause and wonder if the words of our life don't read the same as the theory of power.

Because it's easier. It's happier. It doesn't hurt. You don't bruise. I don't want to give blood again. I don't want to hurt again.

At the Car Wash, yeah.

I have like five blogs running around in my head, rattling their cups along the bars in my brain, wanting out, but I haven't taken the time to sit and creatively compose their bodies yet. Instead of giving you something meaty right now, I want to tell you two stories from my new life here in Birmingham. One good. One...well not as good.

So I found a new simple pleasure in life. I remember reading Annie Dillard writing about how when she was young she used to put pennies on the ground and then hide and watch people find them. She loved to see their reaction when they found her pre-planted "lucky penny". But with inflation and pseudo-maturity, our backs became too stiff to reach for the lucky pennies. I wrote her words on my planner for a year, stating something like, "It is a sad thing when life becomes too hard to pick up a lucky penny, for we know that our life is, always, strewn with random change waiting for us to discover it." I discovered a lucky penny the other day. A simple life pleasure. The car wash. Growing up we always went to the "do-it-yourself" carwash, finding some kind of self-satisfaction from saving a couple of bucks and getting a little foam on our feet. But the other day I splurged and drove through one at a gas station for the first time. HOW COME NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT THIS?!? It was the most wonderful 2 minutes of my day, perhaps. The lulling of the water, the back and forth like I was a child being gently rocked. I don't know what else to say, except I don't know if I will ever pick up a foam brush again. It may be worth budgeting. heck, it may be worth going mudding, just to "need" a car wash. It was magical.

The other story takes a slightly different direction. It involves cleaning as well, but not the same end result, I'm afraid. I live in a very small apartment (room with a kitchen and bathroom) and don't have a washer and dryer. There is a laundrymat on the corner where I live (in a somewhat shady part of town, I will concede, but not dangerous). So I walk my basket over on Friday night, somewhat perturbed already that 1) I have nothing else to do but laundry on a Friday night, and 2) I really need to do laundry on a Friday night because I needed clean clothes to run in the next day. So I put in my clothes... put in my laundry detergent....and put in my money...all the essential components of the task at hand. I jam in the money, and the washer doesn't start. So my human inclination is, of course, to jam harder. It still doesn't work, so I try the one on the left... and the one on the right, and I notice a trend of not working. So I look up at the sign, and see that it says "No loads will be run after 8:00." I ask the man next to me drying his clothes what time it is, and he ....and he says 8:11. Right. So now my clothes are not only dirty (these are running clothes, so there is not hiding their filth) but they now have detergent on them, as well. So I'm throwing the clothes back in the basket, and as I get the last thing, I notice that there is something at the bottom of the washer. What is that? I look into the washer again...
it's poop.
Yes. There is poop in the washing machine.
That's the end of the story because really I don't know how things like this happen to me. I'm sure there is some kind of metaphor I could make here, something profound, but really. It was poop. Mingling with my clothes.

Welcome to my life. Car Washes and Washing Machines.

Amazing Grace

I'm reading the book Amazing Grace, by Johnathon Kozol. I feel like I read it with my mouth open, not sure what to do with the words that are entering my brain- where to put them. In these days post- 'trina where people are saying things like, "Is this really America". I read the stories in this book, of people living in New York, and I think, this book has been out for almost ten years. "Is this America?" I want to share a part of what I read recently, about the author talking to a minister.

"Although Mott Haven is routinely called the deadliest neighborhood in New York City, he tells me that the homicide rate may be as high, or higher in Hunts Point. 'I remember a young couple in my congregation with a teenage son and two young daughters. They joined our church for Easter and rededicated their existence to the Lord. Two weeks later, the son came home and found his father down in the living room, his mother in the laundry room down in the basement, both shot dead. What message do I give these three young people? I know that no words I can speak will ease their pain."

I ask him how he understands his mission as a pastor in this neighborhood.

"We are not literal fundamentalists here at Bright Temple," he replies. "We see God as a liberating force who calls us to deliver people from oppression. The apparent consensus of the powerful is that the ghetto is to be preserved as a perpetual cathc-basin for the poor. It's not about annihilating segregation or even about a transformation of the ghetto, but setting up 'programs' to teach people to 'adjust' to it, to show a 'functional' adaptation to an evil institution. That is pretty much the good behavior that the segregated asks for in the segregated.

"As a religious man, I see it as my obligation to speak out against this, not to bend the poor to be accommodated to injustice but to empower them to fight it and try to tear it down. We are not about amerlioration here. As a church we speak prophetically. We speak not of 'misfortune' but 'injustice'. We also look at the unjust.

"Do people in the neighborhood', I ask, "use language like 'injustice"?

"He presses his hands flat on his desk. 'How often do you speak of the the air? If something touches every aspect of existence, every minute of every hour of your life, it needn't often be spelled out. But it is always there, a quiet understanding.

Come all you who are thirsty, come to the waters, and you, who have no money, come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and mile without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread and labor on what does not satisfy?

I have been spending a lot of money on a lot of things that are not satisfying lately.

But, This weekend I spent time at the lake with five other absolutely amazing souls. Women that I have known for over five or six years. We have watched each other grow, and now we gathered to bless one who is starting a new phase in her life. As she has lavished us with love and grace over and over, she will now learn to do the same with her husband. Every one of these girls are amazing in their own way. The ability to sit and be completely at rest, at complete vulnerability, and yet complete saftey, for a whole weeked was something that I really haven't felt in a long time. I knew that there had been something missing for a couple of months, but this weekend, I tasted of the bread, wine and milk that completely satisfies.

If we believe that God's Spirit rests in each of us, then one of the truest forms of worship would be the love that we share with each other though, and to, that spirit. The fulfillment of the body. I think that I came as close to that as I will this side of heaven. I praise God that in all my wonderings, my searching for community, my feelings of lonliness and rejection, that there are people out there that love me, and support me and share a spirit of unity with me, in spite of all my wonderings, my struggles with community, and my feelings of lonliness and rejection.

It spits in your eye and then embraces you

I was listening to NPR this morning, and a reporter who has been assigned to China for the past 6 years is leaving, so he was giving his "goodbye report". It was so interesting, because it was basically him showing all the great contraditions that come from going to China- the loving and loathing at the same time. The feeling that somedays you have it all figured out, and somedays you want to give up on the whole country. But at the beginning he starts it off something like this "it's 6:00 and I'm just leaving my office. I walk outside to the hustle and bustle of the busy streets and I hear a man clear his throat loudly and spit veraciously, just missing my shoe, and I thought, boy and I'm going to miss this place" and all at once I am grossed out, but strangly missing it, too.

Here is the link to his thoughts, I was ENTHRALLED. I def. think it's worth listening to:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4827736

What if....

... we measured success this way.

I have had many people make comments about the amount of money, or lack thereof, that i will am making this year (not counting the comments that my own mind constantly makes). But what if I measured my success like the people of Buhtan. I recently read this in Sojurner's:

"Gross national happiness
Richard Ingham
SojoMail 8-25-2005

In 1972, the king of Bhutan declared that his Himalayan country (which is the size of Switzerland) would henceforth measure progress with gross national happiness instead of gross national product. It is still the only country in the world to do so.

This is an entirely appropriate decision for a country that treats happiness, not economic gain, as the goal of development. In inventing their government, Bhutan's leaders asked themselves how to maintain balance between materialism and spiritualism while seeking the clear benefits of science and technology; the possible loss of tranquility and happiness with the advance of uncontrolled modernism was an abiding concern.

This concern for balance is illustrated by a story told by former Prime Minister Jigmi Y. Thinley. In the late 1980s, a prominent farmer planted high-yield rice with the encouragement of the government. He had a bumper harvest with surplus grain. The government thought it had a success story to motivate the rest of the farmers. Instead, the farmer refused to grow any rice the next year because the bumper harvest had left him enough to live on for another year, during which he could live leisurely and spiritually."

What's my goal of development? I really like it. Maybe I should move to Buhtan.

looking for community

So I'm going to visit a new small group tonight. Mexican theme. I made salsa. It's too salty, but it'll have to do, because on my VISTA budget, you can't afford to make things twice. I've blogged about this before, but trying to find community sucks a lot of the time. But I guess it's worth it for those moments of great.

I had some of those- the great moments- this weekend. I was in Auburn on Friday, so I decided to spend the night with the Commanders and stay until Sat. So many amazing times of community. Lunch with Julie, and hearing hard things that I needed to hear. Meeting with Ellen and being reminded of the bond that we have. Time with Phil and David and remembering who I was as the token girl in the band of brothers. Running 11 miles Sat morning with Shailiah in a time when I really thought that I was going to have to quit running, because I couldn't do it anymore (but realizing that I just missed her company). Laughing with Jenn and Amy and remembering what it's like to be a mentor to 15 year old girls who respect you, even if they know that you don't have it all together. Talking to Teresa, and realizing that single guys at 45 are just as stupid and boring as those at 25. Meeting with Adam and walking though the arboretum. Just feeling loved, accepted for who I am, with no sense of having to be anything that I'm not.

So I'm going to this small group. I am already fearing the questions. The "getting to know you". The small talk chit-chat surface meaningless games that we all play with each other. But at least I'm going, right?

'ole.

It's a GIRL!!

That's right! For all of you who know me well, you know what a big deal this is! My sister called last night to inform me that they are having a GIRL! After being quite an acomplished aunt to amazing boys... I cannot tell you how much I have been waiting for this. Reasons it is going to rock:
1. Buying girlie things, like Mary Janes, purses, and princess dresses
2. Laughing about how stupid boys are
3. Girls are cuter
4. There is a bond between girls that boys don't understand..
..and the fifth and final reason (final for this blog) that it rocks the house....
5. THE PRESSURE IS OFF ME TO HAVE THE FIRST GIRL!

Holy Father, bless the little woman-to-be inside of Becca. May she be strong and healthy and bring blessing and glory to your name, and blessing to our family. Calm the fears of Becca and Grant. May the joy outweigh the fear.

Don't listen to me

today, I think that you should all listen to Stephanie...

http://www.xanga.com/item.aspx?user=BacioItalia&tab=weblogs&uid=332057212

Speaking of cussing....

So somehow I am getting spam-comments. I am not tech-savvy enough to understand how this works...and surely not tech-savvy enough to make it stop. Please, if anyone out there does, let me know before I go crazy.

I guess you don't all know....

....so this is what I do all day.

http://www.impactalabama.org/speak.html

Killer

I'm a killer. I walk down the street and I kill insects. I do. I'm sorry. You know how people say things like, "She wouldn't hurt a fly". I have. I have not only hurt them, but killed them. My most recent kill was four plants. A sweet guy sent them congratulating me on my new apartment....my new job...defending my thesis...and I think also manging to not have a mental breakdown in the process, though the card left this out. For some reason I imagine that Hallmark really can't market "Congratulations on your sanity".

So He sent houseplants. Very thoughtful, stable, they are going to last, going to be my constant companions, I thought. I thought that until I killed them, that is.

Another friend, Adam, condemned them to death at 12:09pm Wednesday. The cause of death? Root Rot. What the heck does that mean? It means that I was overzealous in my watering. Like a mother who has a swollen infant, I just wanted to give them more and more to ensure their survival, and instead I manged to push them over the precipce to death. I thought that if I stopped watering them, I could bring them back to life... but it turns out that this only pushed them further over the edge.

I wonder if I am like this with culture sometimes.

I want to understand the people around me. I want to be able to converse with the people that I work with. I want to be able to sing along with the songs as we are riding in the car. But soon, I get so saturated, that it drips out of me. Everything drips out of me, and I can no longer even take in the nutrients that I need.

I love cussing. I just want to say that. I stopped for a while, but since moving to Birmingham, and being around the people I'm around, I have been doing it a lot more. I have justified it until I really think that it's ok most of the time. I love the taste of the words in my mouth. I love the giggles and the shock value that it brings. I love the impact that it makes when statments are peppered with a stronger vanacular.

BUt is this just a sign of more root rot?

I really do love people. I want to be able to sit with them. To soak them in. I want to somehow find the balance of not living locked away, unaware of the culture that is taking place before me, but still valuing the and truly being able to ABSORB genuine experience.

Father, may I learn to walk the balance of being in the world but not of the world. Of being with people, but not manipulating, or seeking to control them or the situation. May I learn to have eyes to see hurt and grant me hands that are tools of healing.

Everything I need to know about relationships I learned from my brother...

Kevin: "So I just got back from the lake with this really awesome girl. She totally rocks."

Kara: "Man, that's so awesome! I'm so happy for you!"

Kevin: "Yeah, but I don't think that I like her."

Kara: "Did you make out with her?"

Kevin: "Well... yeah."

Kara: "Kevin! You can't do that. You can't make out with people that you don't like- that makes them think that you like them."

Kevin: "I can't help it. Listen, Someone told me once, 'do what you're good at."

How can I respond to that?

What is the gospel?

Sometimes I feel like I've been out of the word so much I don't really have the authority to speak about it, but I've been thinking a lot about certain things lately and I want to be honest about those thoughts.... to all you random people who read my blog- whoever you are (how interesting that I'm willing to be so honest to a group of potential unknowns, eh?)

I went to church on Sunday, another Sunday, another church. Since moving I haven't really found a place that I want to associate with. Sunday I actually was really digging some of it, and then the pastor started in on Joshua and then he stopped mid-sentence and said that he felt he needed to speak about something else. He said that he felt that there were people that had been going there for their whole life and yet they didn't know the gospel. He said that one of the problems in many churches today is that we spend too much time talking about the Pauline letters and what others say about Jesus, rather than looking at Jesus. So now I'm really getting pumped, and wondering what this guy is going to say about Jesus.

So he starts in 1 Cor, then goes to Gen and talks about the fall, then spends most of his time in Cor and Romans. He talked about how "at our core we suck" and we cannot ever "do enough" to deserve Jesus. I agree. He talked about sin, redemption, and grace. I agree.

BUT.

I was really just kinda disappointed.

I felt like he just did what he said was wrong with Churches. He sat there and talked about the Gospel through Gen, the letters to the Corinthian churches (written by paul) and the letter written to the Romans (written by Paul).

He said that the gospel was sin, redpemption and grace.... which I believe is a part of it, but I have been thinking a lot about Jesus.

What would Jesus say the Gospel message is?

If I asked him, what would he say? I thought that someone kinda did. And this is what he said, "love God, Love others as much as you love yourself".

You may not ever achieve it, but as much as you are able, continue to bring the kingdom of God to this earth. A kingdom of Justice.

And then, other times he talks about who these neighbors are. They are not the people that look just like us, or have the same amount of money as us. And yet our churches are these cities of people who all look alike, patting themselves on the back for their own greatness. How is that Just? How is that the kingdom?

At the end, the one reference to the actual written gospels was about the man selling everything that he has for the field with the treasure in it. So I prayed that I would sell everything that I have for the gospel. That I really would, but that God would show me what the Gospel really is. The truth. What that means. I want to sell out to it, but I wonder if so many of us have gotten it wrong.

I had a good talk last night with a friend. A friend who does not "go to church" but is a Christian. He is doing more good for the kingdom than most of the bodies warming the church pews. Yet he refuses to enter and commune with these "bodies of Christ" because he doesn't think that they represent the gospel.

So what is the gospel?

If you ever want to be freaked out about having a family

...go to Target.. supertarget, at that... on a Sunday afternoon. I think that today was actually undeclaired family day. I swear I saw more mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, kids, babies... than at a carnival. An since they were all shopping for more stuff.. as we all were... the mothers were usually annoyed, and the fathers were cognitively absent. So the kid is screaming, and another is hitting his sister, and the mom is trying to figure out which shower curtain to buy, and the dad is looking around wondering when it's all going to be over.

And then people acutally have the nerve to ask me things like, "Why are you scared of commitment, Kara?" HELLO- is this what commitment brings? Screaming kids and a husband who can't wait for it all to be over? I'm sorry if that freaks me out a little. I love the part in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where he asks, "have we become the dining dead?" and in his mind he can predict everything that she is going to say. I wonder when life becomes like that- predicable.

Lately I've been longing for stability, but I think that I'm scared of the predicability that inevitably comes with stability. I don't want to become the dining dead.

America: the Christian Nation?

I posted the picture of Amy and I, planning to post a blog along with it, but the thoughts are still swirling and in draft form, so more on that later

Lately I have been thinking about something else. I am working for a pretty amazing guy, Stephen Black. He doesn't believe in charity, but does believe in social justice. He graduated from Yale, but came back to Alabama because he really believes that things here can change. That even though the school system is crap, there are teenagers that deserve a chance. Even though there are children that can't read because their eyesight sucks, he can raise money to test their vision on his own. Most of all, he believes that even though there are some that are born with more and some with less, all deserve equal chances.

We live in a country of extremes. When I first came back from China it was almost overwhelming. Everywhere I looked there was excess: money, food, cars, clothes, more, more, more. And yet in the midst of the wealth, there is poverty. How can we live in a country where people literally have billions of dollars, and some eat out of garbage cans? The icing on the cake is that we are a "Christian Nation". We go on holy missions to make sure that people in other lands have "freedom" and lable it a moral imperitave, and yet somehow a starving child, a child who cannot afford to go to college, an old woman that cuts her pills three times to make them 'last longer' is not a moral imperative.

There is a really powerful article that speaks to this "Chrisitan Paradox". In the article the author takes several tenets of basic Christianity, and asks, "How's America doing?" and then answers it.

My question to you is, how do you think America is doing?

Instead of God Bless America, should it really be God Forgive America?

Amy and I at her wedding 

Finding myself

I called Shaliah today to tell her that I'm not going to be coming to Auburn this weekend. She said, "Oh, I guess you need to find yourself."
"Yes, if Kara's around, I'll have her call you."
"Maybe she's wondering the streets with me."
"Yea, maybe they are walking the streets togehter."

So this weekend I guess I'm going to stay here in B'ham. My first official weekend. So far I have learned my way to many of the major highways, malls, and work. All I really need to know, right? And I found a grocery store. Yeah me. I have eaten Thai food, Greek food, and peanut butter sandwiches. I have NOT eaten chicken fingers, or BBQ. I really am so glad I have left Auburn sometimes.

I am still really living out of boxes, though. I sleep on an air matress that has a hole in it, and every night I re-fill the matress with air, only to find my butt on the ground when I wake. Most of my dishes and clothes are still housed in cardboard, and getting ready in the morning means shuffling through piles trying to remember what is clean, and what is dirty. I guess basically I'm living like a batchelor...

My office is much like a closet that no one wanted. As I sit here now, the inventory consists of a filing cabinent, a table, a desk, two computers, a shelf and about about 9 suitcases to haul around eye care equipment in. Sounds classy, eh?

I know that I'm rambling, and if you are still reading at this point, I say "Kudos to you" Because I probably wouldn't be anymore. I think I would have stopped when I started describing my office.

I am really happy right now, though. Some might say that I'm still in the "honeymoon" stage my the move and the job, and I will accept that, it's probably true. It's weird, you know, moving from having my life packed with constantly working on things, to this job where I'm not totally sure what to do, and going home to an empty apartment with free nights, again, not really sure what to do with my free time. I still haven't really found a good place to run, because it's so freakin hilly.

Well that's an update on my life. Not as exciting as other entries, but at least you know. If you have any advise on adapting, good recipies, or exciting things to do in BIRMINGHAM, then let me know!

Barn raising

I've been thinking about community the past couple of days. As most of you know, I'm leaving this fair 'village on the plains' in a couple of weeks. It's so strange to me how much you can loathe a place so much, and in the midst of it it somehow becomes home. Like a leech that I didn't know was there, it has burried it's way into my leg and somehow become a part of me. Gross, but true. I didn't want it at first, I would never have entered the pond had I known beforehand of the leeches to come, but there they were... waiting to cling to me.

Maybe a leech is a bad analogy.

This weekend on Friday night, I ate at the Commanders' house, along with the band of brothers (Adam, David, Eric, and Phil), Jill (Eric's girlfriend, and my roomate for the summer), and the two youth interns, Jason and Derrick. Julie Commander invited me saying, I'm feeding the boys so they can help move furniture. You can come too, but you don't have to move anything. So I did. And I didn't. But it was fun sitting there, playing with Joy, making costumes from the packing and talking about the big box and it's many uses, while the boys were sweating and hauling, and I thought that maybe this is kind of the modern equivilant of a barn raising. The community coming together to help each other out.

The next day, another family who has just finished building their house had about 20 people come over and help them lay down grass in hopes that they would some day have a lawn. They finished just before lunch, when the rains (AKA Dennis) came.

I don't know what is so amazing about community to me. I mean, really, it just makes sense... everyone working together, and accomplishing more than an individual... but in this individualistic world that we live in I often think about how hard it is to be a person who invites community.

It requires that we shuffle off the shell that we protect ourselves with and allow ourselves to be vulnerable. We come out of hiding, and admit, "I need you." Admitting our own weakness in the process, though validating the need for others in this gigantic way.

I think about a friend of mine who was moving and she called me and told me that she asked a woman from the church where she was moving to, to be her mentor. I remember her saying:

"It was so hard, Kara. Just the awkwardness of it all. Who does this kind of thing? What do you say? I actually said to her, 'I don't really know what this is supposed to look like, but I would really like you to mentor me when I move here."

I was so proud of her, because she was building intentional community.

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if Jesus was like, you know, I don't need anyone. I'm just going to wonder around and heal people and sleep on the streets and fend for myself. He was GOD AFTER ALL! But even God was dependant on other people. He fed 5,000 with food from someone else. He was the ultimate in the dependant relationship... and yet we sometimes think that we are too good to need others.

Lord, teach me how to accept community. To accept it, and to seek it out, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it is hard. Thank you that you have not left us here alone. That you commune with us, and that you have left us each other, each living stones built up in you.

On roaches and bombs dropping

I'm in Spidle Hall, putting the finishing touches on my thesis. There is a roach crawling across the floor to my left. I am really tempted to be grossed out and scream, but there is no one else in this whole building, so I know that really it will do me no good. As he meaders across the floor, seeming to float on the carpet itself, I'm reminded about the random morsel of knowledge, "If a nuclear bomb dropped, roaches would be the only thing to survive." This is interesting, because today I feel like some bombs have dropped, and yet here I am.

The roach is still here, but somehow so am I.

Today I hurt a lot for others. I have been so enveloped in my own stress and pain for a couple of weeks now- like a horse with blinders, only seeing one direction. But today, in what felt like only an instant, I began to really hurt for someone else that I love dearly. It has consumed me all day. I hesitate to even blog about it, wondering what eyes see this blog, even though it just feels like I am writing into the infinate cyberspace of no one.

Today, was a day that I am ashamed to be associated with a pack. A tribe. A group of people. A denomination. A congregration. A religion. Today it seems that all the reasons that people give for not wanting to join mainstream Christianity came and slapped me in the face, and I am forced to look at them, and wonder what the Gospel message has become.

In the midst of our behavior modification rituals have we lost grace and love? We say that we do not want to be like the world, and yet we care so much about rules and obeying.

I thought that this was what Jesus came to change.

Tonight, with tears in my eyes, I grieve for a wounded warrior who walks alongside me. One who feels defeated, but doesn't see the Lord fighting alongside. But I also grieve for that which so many have become, who "they" think that "we" are in this insider/outsider game of who looks and acts the best.

I grieve that sick people can no longer recieve mercy at the hospital, this place where they need it the most.

And I pray that somehow I can be an agent of change, a messenger of light to those who are broken.

Celebrate Diversity

So I realize fully that I am in school, but no one, including my parents, and even some friends who see me every day really knows what I'm getting my degree in. Oh, they've asked many times. I explain with large words... small words, try to paint pictures, use modeling clay, it's of no use. So I think my parents believe I'm going to be a counselor. That's ok. I'll just let them believe that. Maybe I'll send them to counseling when they figure out the truth.

My major is housed in the College of Human Sciences. Recently we (I being included since I am a part of the college, though the dean did not call for my opinion on this particular matter) decided that we (refer to earlier statement) should form a "diversity committee". I really supported this idea. If I were going to be here another year, I probably would have been on it. I love it. Yeah diversity. I sallute thee. So, to go along with our committee we decide to make a video. In the video people from the college come and say different statements. My statement was something to the effect of "To be a truly educated person, I believe that I must listen and understand other people's perspectives". Yes! I really do believe this. I started thinking about travelling and talking to people from so many different parts of the world and trying to understand the way that our differences bond us. I even blogged about it when I was in Italy. I love different perspectives. Really I do.

Then, as we were talking about it, one of the professors said, Oh, I picked up some bumper stickers for us. They had a rainbow in the back and said "Celebrate Diversity" and all of a sudden, I was taken aback. In all my celebrating, I didn't see the slippery slope that I was stumbling down. Please don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Celebrating, against Diversity, or against rainbows, but all of a sudden I was slapped in the face with the idea that tolerence has been matched with truth and they are pitted against each other as mutually exclusive ideas.

If I am not accepting of "alternate lifestyles"- a man and a woman living together unmarried- then I no longer know how to celebrate? Am I now lamenting? I was thinking about this on a walk home the other day, and I started to think about Jesus and the woman at the well. What if Jesus had said to her, "I know that the man you are not living with is not your husband, but you know what, Child, that's ok. Whatever makes you happy." NO! He said, "Go, and sin no more!" Jesus never made the gospel easy. He told the truth, indicating that what she was doing was not right to him. I don't think that I'm called to be Jesus and tell people to go and sin no more, but I also don't know that I'm allowed to misrepresent the gospel by saying that there is no truth.

So tonight. It's late, but I do celebrate diversity. I celebrate that in Italy they eat meals that last four hours. I celebrate that people in the northeast say "wicked". Tonight I celebrate that love crosses races, income lines, cultural lines, and continents. I celebrate that Giraffes are crazy looking and that the United States, as powerful as we think we are, are but a drop in a bucket among the nations to God. I celebrate that we are a kilidepscope of different colors, tongues, talents and hairstyles all across this globe, and I celebrate the the creator knows, sees, and desires the hearts of us all. I believe in truth. And tonight, I celebrate diversity.

Thesis monster

I want to say, first off, that it's 12:30 at night and I'm sitting in the computer lab pretending to work on my thesis. Ok, now that I have that off my chest... we will proceed.

I have not posted in a while, and I am sure that all of you local supporters have been enraged. Fortunately you are few, and I think in a dark alley if you decide to attack, I can handle you.

I have expereinced so much in the past MONTH that I have not posted. I went to Memphis and painted a house with 13 other kids (yes, I think I'm still a kid, too, though I think I was supposed to be the adult this time). I worked on my thesis, entered some data, went to a wedding of some pretty stinkin amazing people, and came home to... my thesis. Do we see a theme of what has been lurking in the dark shadows everywhere I turn when I have a free moment? Thesis monster is there... waiting to attack... or at least his sidekick... you're-not-working-on-thesis-guilt monster. It's a scary place to live... here in my skin, but I mean, someone has to do it, and I am willing to be the one. Better me than you, right?

YUM

Today I woke up and I was pretty hungry from the night before, so I stumbled downstairs and ate some Oreos. Quick, easy, and light, right? Then I decided to face the day with a short seven mile run. As I was running, it was crazy, I kept thinking about food. I had big plans for lunch, though,baby. A big bowl of pasta, or maybe even Niffers.

But somehow I got so busy, I didn't have time. There was the most interesting thing on TV! I grabbed a diet coke on my way out the door, thinking that my afternoon would be light and I would get a break later. By this time I was definately loosing steam. My stomach was talking, and my legs weren't really moving very fast... and i wasn't in the best of moods, but I really thought that my day was almost over. Then a friend came over, and wanted to go walk for a couple of miles. I couldn't really say no, so I went.

By this time I was famished, but i was so tired. My day was over, so I just wanted to go to sleep. I layed down, but as soon as I was about to go to sleep the weirdest thing happened. This guy comes and wants to fight. I was like, dude, I'm tired, and I'm just not ready for this right now. But I think he knows that... so he practically pushes me out of bed. And so we fight.

My very bones are aching for food.

Am I still silent?

Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.

What are you eating?

Babies are everywhere

Is it just me, or are there a lot of pregnant people around lately?

Hiding

I guess I've been in hiding for a while. I have moved, stopped my assistantship, been working on my thesis, got another job, commited to an apartment for next year, and gone home since my last blog...and I could blame all these things on being too busy to think... but anyone who knows me, knows that this is not the truth.

I think that I've been Silent in a lot of ways lately. Silent from my God, Silent from some friends, and even silent from myself. Some of it was intentional, and some of it just kinda happened in the day in and day out... no real resolution there, just like real life... but still working on it.

rethinking

I recounted from my post this morning...and you know what I realized:
In the past three years (from today) I have lived in two states, three countries/continents, seven different places. Whew that makes me tired just thinking about it. And by the end of this summer, I will add one more move onto that one. WHO AM I?

Went to Birmingham today to talk to the person who is me right now... who has the job that I will be taking. It was an interesting day. I thought that I was just going for a friendly chat with a fellow VISTA worker (Americorps), but it turned out to be a lot more than that. A lot of information. Some I was ready to hear... some I wasn't yet.... some I don't think that I ever will be. Maybe I will post about that later, though.

Been thinking about moving again- obvious from the earlier sentiments. I just don't want to deal with it all again. Changing all the addresses, making sure I close accounts, and open accounts. Pack up boxes and unpack boxes. Take down and decorate up.

And then there's the friend thing. The whole thing of re-establishing with new people. "where are you from" "what is your social club"...no wait, I'm more mature now, we no longer judge people by that... we have moved now into "what do you do" These presumptious statements begin to define and somehow my identity. My three years of moving from place to place to place, becomes, "I am a _______".

Shesh, I don't want to start over again.

Soap

This morning as I was taking a shower, thinking about moving....again... for the fifth time in the past three years...I thought:

"I bought this bar of soap when I moved in here, and now it is almost gone. I don't think that I will take the sliver with me."

Is it weird that I have begun to measure time with a bar of soap?

Ode to running... and Shaliah "tupperware" Armstrong

Shaliah Armstong and I following 13.1 miles

An exercise in the spirit, the mind and the body as we pound out the mysteries of God with each beat our foot takes.

A simple task of the mundane becomes holy ground where angels fear to tread.

We speak of the things we know, and make speculations on the things we will never understand. With each gasp for breath, our physical bodies scream and want to quit, but we must endure, just as we urge these spirits that groan inside us, inwardly waiting for full redemption, to endure. To hope. To have patience.

We speak of the hard things. The things that sometimes we would only talk about with bated breath. Love, and pain. Sometimes we just run, but know that the presence of the other is critical to keep us moving.

Thank you for your presence.

What are you doing on Sunday?

a line from an e-mail I recieved today....
"It was good to see you at church. I wondered
if you still went to church or liked God. Nice to know that you do. Talk to
you soon"

Seriously, I was so irate when I read this, I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. I think that the thing that got me so much was that this person- this person with whom I have had a superficial relationship with for many years now really knows nothing about me, or my about whether I "like God". However, he equated seeing me in church to "liking God". He saw me there, so he assumed that I was still "on the right side" I guess. Man, o man. I love the south. Where all you have to do is come in and make sure enough people see you, and look pretty enough, and leave.

What's really timely about this comment is the discussion that I had with a dear friend of mine who does not believe in "church" and she talked about the judgementalism that she felt here in the "south" because she does not walk into a building on Sunday morning, and yet, she feels like when she looks around, she leads a better life than most of the hulligans that go out to the bar with a Jesus fish on their car. Now, I'm not against the bar...but I am against profaning the name of Jesus when one acts like they are better than someone else because of what they do on Sunday morning, dismissing the rest of their.... or the other person's life.

Am I rambling, or is this a truth that we really need to hear...I need to hear?

Do you hate yourself?

Well do you? I was reading a blog the other day that I can't seem to get off my mind. It spoke about verses that are challenging to us. I didn't respond, but since then, I think that Jesus has answered for me... and there are so many. (all of these are NKV: New Kara Version. For actual verses click on the link at the end)

I took you into the desert to humble you and to test you and to see what was in your heart. (Deut 8:2)

Anyone who is not disciplined is illigitimate and not a true son . (Heb 12:8)

Woe are you when men think well of you, like you, you are well fed, are fat and rich. (Luke 6:24-26)

There are so many more, and maybe I will keep adding to this as more are shown to me.... but one that keeps coming back to me over the past couple of years is when Jesus talks about the price tag that is stuck on the product we sometimes call discipleship.

Anyone who wants to follow has to kill everything he knew about his life, and leave it behind to follow a different life. And if you like the old life better, in fact, unless you HATE the old life, you are not worthy to come.

I remember once sitting in a Dunkin Doughnuts in Bankok, Thailand and just weeping over this text. I was longing for an earthly home, and yet I knew that I was going to get on a plane in a couple of days, and I was going to go back to China for another semester- going back to this other foriegn home that I had made. I felt the weight of denying my father and mother for the first time in my life. But hating myself. This has been a much longer journey.

When I was in DC I went to the Holocoust Museum. It was a really amazing experience, but one of the things that I stopped to write down- was a quote from a German Jew who was a famous writer (so famous that I can't remember him) and came to America during the holocoust. This is how the quote read:

"I think I am so lucky to be alive.
But last night as I lay in bed
I thought
'survival of the fittest'
and I hated myself."

Do I hate myself? He had been among the "saved" yet he felt the weight of self-hatred because he knew of those who were dying. I know this is not the same thing that Jesus meant when he said we are to hate ourselves... but for some reason I can't help but think that there has to ba an anology there. To find the weight of the lost in the light of my own salvation. What does this look like?

how might ours read?

I am so lucky to be alive.
But last night as I lay in bed
I thought
"predestination"
and I hated myself?

Slanted perspective

It's been a while since I have posted. I was in Washington, D.C. most of last week, and then I returned home to a pressing deadline (which came this morning, thus leaving me to waste the rest of the day away/ “work on my thesis”). I have several blog thoughts sketched out in my mind and scribbled quickly on whatever I had in my purse at the time, so hopefully those will come through sometime soon.

While I was in DC I had the amazing opportunity to visit the National Gallery of Art. I love going to art museums. So many lessons are infused through my little eyes I always wonder how to take it all in. We only had 30 minutes to spend there, so my eyes quickly scanned the walls of splattered paint on canvas. Somehow I came to the impressionistic section. I always find these painting so interesting. Monet… Renoir… as they begin their masterpieces, surely they must have looked like utter fools to those around them.

As I approach those who are looking at these works of art, standing a fair distance away, I always like to buck the system.

I love to walk right up to the painting, as if I am going to kiss it. Face to face.

And look it in the eye.

From this distance the painting does not look so masterful. From here it is hard to even tell that it is a coherent painting at all. Clumpy textures, jagged edges and seeming random brushstrokes compose the life of this painting. If I were there, I would tell the painter that this is not what the outline of a sun looks like. There is not red in the sky. You should not put yellow in the water- can't you see that it's BLUE!

But then I step away and the chaos comes into view.

Slowly my eyes focus on the dark strokes that seemed so out of place, and I realize that they were accentuating a bridge. I look a little longer and I see that the white was not an attempt to cover up a mistake, but in fact it is a cloud.

It is only when I step away that I see that the composition was made by one more talented than I. With a mind, a perspective, that could see what I could not see.

This is Easter. NO ONE was about taking the obligitory Easter pictures, including the dog, so I'm amazed that these turned out! I can't believe that they are so big. (do I sound like an old woman, or what?) 

This is the William, the coolest second nephew a girl could ever hope for. Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen? 

Noah (the coolest first nephew ever) with his bass- Chewie... yes, he named it, yes it's short for Chewbacca.  

what is seen

I was listening to a sermon on fasting tonight by a preacher in Texas named Matt Chandler. I like him because many of the members of his church either have been Christians for less than two years, or are healing from an abusive church situation, and are just "coming back to church." So when he talks he doesn't always talk in preacher cliches, but uses fresh words- words that one might use to talk to a friend.

He was talking about Matt. 6:16 when Jesus says, "Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy fast like the hypocrites do so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. Truly they have their reward in full." He goes on to explain this in it's context- explianing the pharasees-

and then he says something a little provocative, a little cutting, that I wonder if we would let preachers get away with

in Auburn

in Nashville

in Little Rock.

"When the most people would be in the market (Tues and Thurs- fasting days) the Pharasees would wake up, not shower, not shave, not put on deodarant, not comb their hair, and they would walk around moaning and looking gloomy,

"What's wrong with you?"
"oohhh, I'm seeking God for you sinner"
and they would put on this overt riligiousity...

and Jesus says beware practicing your hypocracy before men to be noticed by them.

WHY?

Because you WILL be noticed by them.

(stop. drink this in)

The most dangerous part of hypocracy is that IT WORKS!

IT WORKS!

You can put on all the external garb of godliness and have a hard wicked heart and men will praise you and speak highly of you and exalt you as a godly man, as a godly woman, and it can be the most damning thing that ever happens to you.

Hypocracy is dangerous because it works.

You want to do things for the approval of men? You're in a great state, right here in the buckle of the Bible belt. Say the right things, wear the right things, and your going to be exalted all the days of your life, and you're going to die and stand naked before God and have the fullness of your reward, and that's a terrifying idea. A terrifying idea."

WOW.

"Woe are you when men speak highly of you."

blessings...seen and unseen

I was blessed today in two ways:
1) there are moronic people in Georgia
2) my last name begins with "L"

I had the unique experience of the Fulton County courts in Atlanta, Georgia today. All day, I realized how frustrating this experience could have been, but for some reason I kept seeing so much blessing in it. Just like you might not think that it's a blessing to be unattractive... it can sometimes be a blessing to have people who are morons. Take this lady I encountered today. From the time she entered the building she was talking to anything with ears. She was actually "shushed" twice by the bailiff while in court because she was talking with the guy next to her, and the last time he said, "this is the last time I'm going to tell you". For a moment I wasn't sure if I was in kindergarten or a public courtroom. Since her name began with a letter before mine, she went first. The conversation went something like this (we were to stand and tell the ladies how we pleaded...plead?)
"Guilty"
"You're fine is $200. Do you have that in cash with you?"
"Well, I... well... I don't want to.... I....is there something I can.....someone I can...."
"Do you want to change your plea?"
(In a thick southern accent) "well, I'm guilty of speedin'... I just want to...oh.."
"If you want to speak to judge you have plea not guilty"
"well...I.. um"
"if you want your day in court you have to plea not guilty"
"not guilty"

Imagine that before all this we were told to stand when our name was read, and then we were to say... whatever... standing. So the lady is alternately standing and sitting during this whole charade. The best part about it? It wasn't me.

But I loved being there today. I loved being around such a diverse group of people. When we were going in, one lady was talking about turning off her cell phone, and she said, "I remember when Whitney's phone went off, and the judge made such a big deal about it." Her son was like, "Who?" "Whitney Houston." I chortled to myself. She looks up and me and says, "You remember that?" "No, I just thought that it was funny that you said "Whitney" like you were on a first name basis with her... like she was your homegirl." And we had a good laugh.

We have been talking about constraints to getting out of welfare in my social policy class, and one of the things that we talk about is the web of bureaucracy that so many people face just to get something accomplished. I kept thinking about that today as I spent literally half of my day just going to traffic court. And this was after talking to about ten people about what I should do. I am a fairly smart person, and still, I was just as confused as old foot-in-her-mouth-talk-nonstop girl about what my options, or what the procedure is.

The law makes following rules so hard.

More than anything, though... today, sitting in that courtroom, I kept thinking about sitting before the throne. For some reason that image just kept coming to my mind. As people's names were being read, and they were stating "guilty" or "not guilty" I just couldn't help but get a little over whelmed thinking about what it is going to be like to hear the words, "Don't worry, her name is here in this book. The Lamb's book of Life." When the measure of life is over, really, those words are all that will matter.