Numb this morning.

I don't remember my dreams very often. When I do, they are usually very disturbing, and are something that haunt me throughout my day. So, I spend time thinking about them -- because I do feel like God or our bodies or whatever "speak" often through them -- not like a direct command, but like an open window into things we need to look at and examine.

Last night was a flood of upsetting, disturbing things. They involved probably everyone I know, and it each situation, I was antagonistic; argumentative; just this side of physically violent. I was saying things that I've never even thought of in my "conscious" state to people I love and admire. And today, even though I know it "was a dream," I am ashamed and saddened to think this crap is even in me.

My most vivid dreams were of my mom. Mom's been gone about a year and a half, and I think of her daily. We had an "O.K." relationship -- nothing bad. I know she loved me fiercely and deeply, and my only disappointment is that I'm not sure if she ever knew how much I loved her. I was never the "snugly, kissy" kind of kid. Pretty independent. A lot of complexities and shit from my childhood made me more standoffish. But it wasn't about her. And I think she knew that.

Last night, I had Mom back for a while. Think Mitch Albom's, "One More Day." (great read -- just be prepared for the "dealing" if you've lost someone you love). We were having a great time, doing things we use to do when I was young ... going out to lunch, laughing at the kids playing in the backyard.

But then slowly, something dark and unstoppable entered my dream. We started arguing over stupid things... I honestly can't remember. And suddenly, pieces of my mom's beautiful countenance started just peeling away. Chunks of her were tearing off, blowing away in a warm summer breeze. Still, I kept arguing with her. Inside of me, I knew I was wasting precious time. I knew she would soon look like a year and half old corpse, and she wouldn't be able to talk to me anymore. She tried to smile through this, but I could see the tears in her eyes. And still, I was hard and would not relent.

I woke up shaking, and my mind was flashing images like some independent movie release meant to blur the lines between reality and fantasy. I still can't shake it, and am almost afraid to face my day.

So, this morning, I'm trying to process. I think I know WHY I had this dream. We have people in the church who lost their mom this week. She was an amazing woman ... more drive and determination than most people half her age. Very active in bringing God's kingdom to earth in the lives of men who society has given up for lost. She and her daughter had -- what looked like -- a great relationship. But like all of us, there was "stuff," you know?

I've been very antagonistic toward my husband's involvement in this funeral process, not because of the woman who passed, but because of this daughter. No details, just "because." At least, that's what I've attributed my simmering feelings to.

But today, I think I've been playing the projection game, and putting my unsettled feelings about my own mom's death over onto this other lady. OK, so some of the stuff she's said and does pisses me off in the here and now. But I believe the bulk of what I'm experiencing is my own psyche still massively screwed up.

When a parent dies, there is this never ending hole leaving a vacant spot.through the middle of your soul. So, as time goes on, you fill that hole with things you need to survive -- good memories, photo scrap booking, your own family, self-medication ... you know. And I do a pretty good job of it: making it work between my vision of the living, and my memories of the dead. But I'm learning that the older I get, the harder it is to "pull it off." Still living within my own expectations of "how it should be," or worse yet, "how I should be." Constantly beating myself up for what I don't do, rather than putting my energies toward what I know I can and desire to do to make a difference in "the land of the living."

I guess, maybe, that's the message my mom brought me last night. It's cliche-ish at best, but it's about doing what you can do now ... letting the "dead bury the dead," and being about life. It's about building people here, not tearing them apart (or letting them do that to you) after they are dead.

No resolution. Just continued processing.

Definitions: Easy and Hard

I've come to realize that this "journey" I'm on continues to build with paradox after paradox. One came to light today in a conversation with a friend ...

I believe that a lot of people would view the things I'm learning right now -- the freedom I'm developing -- as a "loss of faith." I've decided to take the "easy" way or the "worldly" way (whatever that is-- since everything belongs to God and everything I do and say should be spiritual). I know people who are sure I've lost it. People who won't discuss these things with me. People who are afraid of my "influence" taking them away from their own faith.

But truth be told, I believe the thing I've given up is the way of the "easy answers" that had been spoon-fed to me throughout my "Christian walk." Instead, I've chosen to walk the "narrow" path of truly searching scripture ... all of scripture, not just the "top ten theological works" of Paul or some other popularized "prayer" or "walk" or whatever Christian media tends to promote or denounce at a certain time.

I'm seeing that a lot of things I thought I believed weren't really scripture at all. Much of it is church-ology, and I'm to a point where I'm understanding that some of what we consider church (i.e. the structured organization) isn't overly biblical to begin with. Much is a structure that gives people control over their belief in God ... if they can "figure" this or that out, somehow they can relate to an unfathomable God that was never meant to be totally understood. Certain beliefs help people hang on to their faith. Never mind whether these beliefs are founded in the Word, if they've been "accepted" into Christian theology for long enough, that's good enough for them. To me, that seems like the easy way -- surrounding yourself with lines that keep you safe within a prescribed limit of what you can readily understand.

I want to live where I don't quite understand it all. I believe God is so big, I shouldn't be able to put it all in a nice, neat theology. I would go so far to say that what I have chosen is the more difficult path.

See, I believe that much of the "structure" we call church has become, through the years, about reducing the true gospel message. We tend to "major on the minors," those external issues and sins that we can easily rally around or point out as faults in those not quite as spiritual as us. The way "they" give their money. The way "they" raise their children. The way "we" won't read this or see that or speak out this potty word. Never mind the "big" issues of divorce, homosexuality, etc. We must simply picket again such things -- calling hated names and making ourselves judge and jury over other people (again, a position reserved for God -- not his followers).

Or what about the holy things given by God in His word? We think that an hour on Sunday morning, and maybe a small group during the week, passes us off as some type of community -- "first century Christians". But I'm finding community is much, much more. And much more difficult than anyone -- including hippy me -- ever dreamed.

Worship has become equated with music. Whatever happened to a life that screams worship every living, breathing step of it's existence? Too metaphysical? Whatever.

Jesus' life and death reduced to the forgiveness of sin... whatever happened to "life to the full?"

Eternity as a choice between burning and treading "streets of gold?" What about when Jesus said that the Kingdom of God -- eternity -- begins right here and right now? And that means we are called to bring heaven to earth ... not just wait for our peaceful time after death.

We say we've gotten "freedom" from Old Testament "law," but in reality, we live more tightly in bondage to our systems of belief than most of us would dare live bound to God. And these systems are often just a shadow, I believe, of what God would really, truly want us to be.

So, the path I'm walking is one of choices -- what is really important? Is it to cling to a theology of belief? Or is it to cling to a theology of relationship? Of action? To believe it's right to "love my neighbor as myself," or to really do it? To not search out all the things that separate us from "them," instead looking for common points and beginning relationships outside my comfortable Christian walls? To think for myself about certain things ... if salvation is only about forgiveness of sin, why do I keep sinning once I've saved? Maybe salvation is more? If Jesus came to start a new religion, why did he only teach and fulfill the faith he was born in -- Judaism? The things he added were deeper, richer, of a higher standard than practiced in his day. But they were still very Hebrew.

I guess I want that kind of faith. To look into the face of what is now, and be able to discern what really matters, in light of Jesus' words -- God's words -- not the acceptable party line. I don't want a reductionist faith anymore. I don't want to simply believe what I'm told. I guess my concept of God has gotten uncontainable in a building or "non-negotiable" theological statement that simply makes other people comfortable. It's OK if that's where they are. But I chose to live somewhere else right now.

And I think this "somewhere else" is closer to the Father than I have ever been before.

Struggling right now ...

...to find my place. A part of some exciting things in my community ...dreams finding homes, visions going forward, etc. Me? I vacillate between thinking I'm simply lazy (not willing to commit to my own dreams), stupid (unable to come up with anything), or flexible (ready to help anyone with anything that they dream). Most days, I figure I'm all the above.

I did figure out that, part of my problem is I'm afraid to commit to one thing. It frustrates me when, as a younger person, I'd bounce from thing to thing to thing, thinking, "This is the 'best' ever!" I began to view myself (or I was told, maybe) that this kind of life was haphazard. I think this thinking began to grind on me, and I became somewhat "stable" and forgot that, to really accomplish what God has for me, sometimes I had to simply jump -- regardless of how many times it looked or felt like a "false start."

So now, I live between two worlds. I'm in my infancy, really. I feel like, all these people around me have such a better grasp on dreaming and bringing those dreams into reality. Me? Most days I feel like I'm still spinning my wheels.

See, I became an "expert" at living life for everyone else. Now, that I'm in a safe place to be who I should be, I struggle with figuring that out, or even if I really, truly have "permission" to be the person God intended.

On my wrist, I have a tattoo of the Hebrew word, "Teshuvah." Teshuvah is a lot of things ... but the gist of it is to "return to what God's original purpose" for your life. I did it because I feel like I'm in constant need of reminding to do that very thing.

Unfortunately, so far, it feels like the tattoo is little more than symbol for me. I want it to be more ... and maybe, it is, but just not how I imagine it should be. I was talking to my friend, Candy, yesterday, and she said something very wise. Bot she and I feel like we're basically supporting the dreams of the community right now -- and that's great! She said the "support" role keeps her from being arrogant (so funny, because if you knew Candy, that would be the last word you would use to describe her).

Maybe that's what it is for me, too. I'm use to be the mover and shaker ... it's a position I've been thrust in for years. But right now, among the beautiful group of followers I'm in, maybe it's enough to love and support the dreams of others for a while. Maybe, my "job" as Mom for some sixteen years has helped temper me into a person to do just that? By taking the back seat to my kids, I am ready to simply do "whatever" God lays on the hearts of my dearest friends -- encouraging them, loving them, making it happen for me.

We'll see. All I know is that I'm in a place like I've never been before, with people I think I can really trust. I feel like they are my friends with no hidden agendas -- and most days I think they really like me! So, here we go on a very new trust walk kind of life ... Teshuvah ... because I think God intended for us to live in community, trusting others, and working together to bring heaven to earth. Maybe I'm really doing exactly what I'm suppose to be?

Not so much to say ... maybe.

I've been involved in an "on-going" discussion with my husband, and I'm not really sure if I should just "let it go," or if it needs to be resolved, how to do it.

I need to start by saying I deeply love my husband. We've been married almost 20 years now (hard to believe!). He is probably the most compassionate man in the world. He is a "help mate" in the truest sense of the word. He works hard, helps at home, is a good daddy, a caring friend, a good lover. Most of my friends are like, 'Wow! I can't believe he ..." and then go on to list the various attributes my husband embodies. Not perfect -- but truly amazing in the light of most relationships I know.

Recently, we've come into a lot of turmoil, though. I can't say it's because of this or that. In fact, if I could define it, I'd have my answers. But I can't, and I'm growing weary of trying. I guess the base line issue is how we view the definition of "church", maybe.

Most people wouldn't struggle here. No one agrees 100 % on things, lest of all spiritual things. I guess I see it a little different, because "church" (i.e. the organized religious part) has been an overwhelming part of my husband's life forever. Even now, he is a pastor full-time. Jokingly, I say, "Paid pray-eer". And he's very good at what he does. B. is a natural listener ... he'd rather listen than talk, and has very good insight for most people -- especially in the realm of the "structure." He's the proverbial "pastor-shepherd," caring for needy people, helping connect them to whatever they are looking for. He is a conselor by nature, and doesn't mind dealing with people in all situations.

So, I look at this, and I say to myself, "Self, you should be overwhelming appreciative of this man." Ours is a "solid" partnership, you know? When I'm frustrated with "things," I tell him: "We make great business partners, but I was hoping for more in a marriage." Unfair? Probably. Because, as long as things were going along in what perimeters he had set his mind for, we were good -- great.

Sadly, I spent much of my married life simply trying to be that person I believed B. wanted. I did everything that was expected of me. I got married, had four children, named them names he approved (it's a funny story, but one for another blog), spent time being nice to his sometime crazy family, putting up with overwhelming amounts of crap from people at the church (because you know, a pastor's wife is to be see and spit upon -- not heard). I helped him accomplish whatever he felt he needed ... was secretary, teacher, coverer of butt, etc.

And I thought that's all I wanted. Most time, I was happy. I thought I was "doing God's will" and being "obedient to my husband," and the culture I was immersed in applauded the right choices I made. I was conditioned to simply not think anywhere past the approved party line.

But three years ago, that life exploded all over us -- me. And while we began a new journey, with limitless opportunities, B. was not happy until he found himself another situation very close to what he'd always needed. It was "God's will," "God's leading, " etc. And any other time before, I simply would have shut my mouth, acquiested to his desire, and just gone with it. But this time, I thought he was wrong.

Fast forward to about a year ago. Still living with my wounds, but traveled a long way toward healing. I aligned myself with friends from this new structure -- one he was sure we were to join -- and we began a journey together that, day to day, looks a little more like what I think the church should look like. This past year has been amazing -- I've learned and re-learned things, I've made some deep friendships -- some with people before I would have been afraid to have in my home. I believe I've given my kids a broader base of faith -- one that is theirs, not mine.

But with B., it's been more turmoil than the remainder of our lives together combined. I feel a constant struggle. I feel like he doesn't want to really be a part of this life I am. And I know I cannot pretend to accept fully what he is a part of everyday. So far, we've lived within the tension. But it seems more and more difficult. And he "says" all the right things, you know? It's in the middle of heated discussions where I feel like his "true" feelings slip and expose his feelings.

How do you enter into trust again with someone? Or rather, how much common ground do two people need to continue to stand together? I don't want him to change -- for me, anyway. I want him to stay true to who God wants to make him. But my fear is that he is so intent on staying true to who he is comfortable with, that he doesn't really want to look beyond what it to what can be. I told him the other night, "I wish I could paint you a picture ... tell you something that could show you how I see the world... myself ... you.

Then, re-reading this, I think, "I am a selfish person. I should just suck it up and do what I've always done." But I know this longing inside of me will not let that happen.

So, for now, the questions go unanswered. We go on. Trusting God will open hearts --- his or mine -- and showing the way to continue to stand together.

All my questions are leading places I don't want to go.

I actually thought about trying to live my life like G-d didn't exist for me. I'm not sure what that would look like -- and I'm not sure I even want to try that. He is so pervasive in everything I do and say and the on-going conversations I have.

But my mind is foggy, and my heart is cynical, and I'm trying to figure out which way is up, and I'm sick of talking about it. I feel the pull back toward just "pretending," dressing my faith up in the pretty accessories of Christendom, or simply buying a one-way ticket to Africa and wandering around the continent for a while. Suddenly, what I don't know seems almost more comforting than what I do know. You know?

What this "state" is doing for me is driving me back into the Word. And also to other text that give me some historical context for what I'm reading -- across the culture, though. Not just church sanctioned stuff. I had to put the anarchist stuff down for a bit, because I'm not strong enough to sort it all out in my head and heart right now -- I'm so "afraid" of doing something stupid to hurt my family or friends.

So, I go on doing "the right thing" in definition of those cultural contexts I have put myself under. But my mind wanders frequently .... to warm summer days with little responsibility and lots of sunshine and dirt under my fingernails as I dig in the garden, or swim with my kids, or just lay in the sun reading.

I told a good friend today that what I probably need is to focus on doing something for someone else. But when you feel overwhelmed in simply functioning during your day to day, it's tough to look for something like that. I'm going to keep my mind open, though, and see what an "other" perspective brings to my table.

That's all for now. Oh, except I wrote a "kind of" poem today:

There are times

I can barely talk to you.

I'm so afraid

What I hide inside

Will spill over onto you

And wash you away.

There are other times

When I can't bear the thought

Of being without you.

If I told you what I feel

What I think,

You would never look me in the eye again.

How can I continue

To house two people

Inside of me?

Most days, they tear me apart,

Each arguing for

Their own piece of me.

My friends tell me it's normal.

But they don't know

Both of me.

No one does -- no one can.

And I live most days afraid

That one of me will

Kill the other.

And my life will somehow

Go on --

But it will only be half a life.

That might be worse

Than the battle within.

That's all I got right now. I gotta go do stuff I gotta do. Responsibility is the nagging voice I thought I left behind. Silly, stupid girl.

Wow! Two posts in one day ... a record for me.

I was sent this beautiful poem by a friend. She had written it for her brother-in-law's wedding, and I think the whole blogging world should read it.

I have discovered love.
It burst upon my life and seized my full attention with it's color and it's taste.
I remember the steps of my heart. I was heading full on in the direction I felt the Lord lead me, traveling the pace I felt the Lord gave me. I walked forward satisfied, in focus and content. I was far from care and far from need as I walked my faithful walk.
Then one day I remember turning my head and feeling my heart jump as I saw you on a near path. I remember looking down to check my steps-to make sure I hadn't veered off in plain attraction.
I kept my steps and I kept my speed and I kept turning my head only to find you traveling faithfully on your path and at your speed and nearer and nearer to me.
I turned my head one day and you were right there. I looked down and my steps had not wandered and my pace had not broke and our direction had become the same and our fervent speed was one.
Then I knew I had discovered you.
I wanted to give you my heart and never get it back again.
I wanted to take your hand and never let it go.
I wanted to invite you to perfectly delight in all my imperfections.
I wanted to swear my unswerving earthly gaze.
I wanted to share in gain from all your gains and share in suffering all our pains.
I wanted to birth your babies and raise your children next to you.
I wanted you alone to have my smile wrinkles as they formed and my most strong embraces.
I wanted you alone to own my most consistent care and all my earthly whispers.
I wanted you to take all these of mine and I'd take all of your's
-and as if on the stage of simply living we'd pledge and learn and perform
-forever thankful to God for His love He had given; His story He had written for us to live.
So sober in covenant yet drunk in ecstasy we stepped up, on through the curtains, to the stage set before us and we opened the age old gate and entered the holy garden of matrimony.
Where we let our lives and spirits dance
-free and whimsical, light and quick
-like a tongue of flame, lapping about above its ash and ruin
-fueled by the oil of the Spirit and of Truth
-dying but flying
-freer, brighter, and more alive.
As dying living man and wife we live our life through plot and plot with strengthening faith and trust. Humbly knowing the oath we swore was not in vain but ever is in bloom.
Fruitfully we see His stories bloom.
Faithfully we will continue to dance, fanning dead seeds into dying living flames upon this stage
-and we will be the audience ourselves of His great mastery on display
-until we hear Him summon us to deeper joy and clearer sight, further up and further in.

S.Decker

I need to feel this way more often about the man I married. Right now, it seems more of a convenient partnership, with both of us going a hundred miles an hour, often in different directions. The sad part is that I believe he's comfortable with this. And I don't think I am.

Anyway, that's all for now. I just wanted the world to read how talented my friend Suzanna is!

I had a discussion with my friend, Miles, at work this morning.

We were talking about the whole "discovery" of the family tomb of Jesus, Mary, etc. (btw, I feel like it's all too packaged to be anywhere near the truth). Regardless of my personal feelings, I still entered into these types of discussions, because I learn a lot about people and their "religious" beliefs. Today was no exception, and Miles gave me some great insight into why these types of things turn people away from "the church" (organization).

Miles said, "The problem is that, whether these things are true or not, they really aren't going to affect religion. It's about faith. But it's the "church's" reaction to such things that freak people like me out, and chase us away from religion."

I asked him to tell me more, and he said, "Most churches are so close minded that they don't even allow the questions. Everyone is spiritual ... most of us more more spiritual than we're willing to admit. But we can't fit into an organization that blasts us for having questions that don't fit their narrow believe system."

The thing that blows Miles away -- and so many other people -- is that "the organization" is so busy being afraid of the questions -- or formulating pat answers according to their personal and occasionally unbiblical dogma that it would rather not have "those kinds" of people around rather than dealing with their honest questions and searching. Why do we feel like we have to have it cut, dried, tied and offered up onto a plate to people we'd like to tie up and force feed a believe system we've come to accept and very rarely question?

I have beliefs. I like to believe that the things I would die for a biblical and right. Those things are few and far between, because much of what has made up my "religion" has very little to do with truth and much more to do with creed -- what I choose to believe. But for me, that's the beauty of faith. It's belief in things not seen -- beyond proof. Things that sing to our spirit -- things that light in our souls, transported by a G-d who desires to know us on a personal, intimate level. It's relationship -- like I have with my husband, or children, or dearest friends.

I believe that a "religion" that can be that way will be attractive to everyone searching. I know it is to Miles. He's told me that, if the response I give him were the responses he'd gotten at "church" (organization), he probably would be a part. It's not selling G-d short, or "watering down the gospel" (if anything, I think people who say those things are afraid of not having a faith strong enough to endure the questions). It's allowing G-d to be who he says he is, and making myself available to him without conditions imposed by my limited believe system.

But then, I'm not afraid of handing over control to G-d ... most of the time.

General Tso and Crushed Olives

I got up this morning, did my 2 mile walk, and stopped by the store on the way home. I bought the kids doughnuts (something they don't get very often), and bought myself some frozen General Tso chicken for breakfast. My 10 year old is having a tough time with it, but something about Chinese food in the morning makes me feel adventurous.

Last night, with my group of "Hebrew Hippies," we did this amazing thing. We passed out words, and then (in reflection of the portion of Torah we were studying) used these words to offer pieces of ourselves up to G-d. Words like, "awe," or "creativity," etc. It was a beautiful thing, because it forced us to become just a little more transparent with each other.

When I was talking with my friend yesterday afternoon (while she was planning the evening), I told her, "People will get words of special significance to them --- that's just how G-d works." At that point -- that very moment, I looked at her list and knew what words would come to me.

Sure enough, as we were passing the words around, the one on top when it found me was "trust/faith."I like to say that "faith" is easy for me, because the object of my faith is G-d. I also know that trust is a very, very difficult thing for me because of where I come from and what has happened. I also know "all the answers" the church (organized religion) has for me about forgiveness, "moving on," etc. because I have quoted them to myself countless times. I have it "in my head." But the heart is another story.

So, all these things are mulling about in my mind last night during group. When it came my turn, I simply said, "trust and faith -- two words I don't like a lot." People laughed, and my husband even said, "But she does like the word honesty." Fortunately, my friends let it go at that. I wasn't ready to discuss anything about it -- especially in light of a verse from the portion we read last night.

"You shall command the Israelites to provide you with pure oil of crushed olives for light, to cause it to burn continually [every night]." Exodus 27:20

This is where G-d is giving Moses very specific directions on how the tabernacle (G-d's "dwelling" among the Israel nation while they traveled following the exodus from Egypt) was to be built and maintained. Why would such an obscure verse "speak" to me?

I have this "situation" from growing up. I am among the millions of people who were abused somehow during their childhood. I was not a "worse case scenario," a fact that I have hit myself over the head with thousands of times as I tell myself to "suck it up and get over it." I have never used the situation as an excuse for bad behavior, and have even found myself a little "self righteous" as far as how I have NOT let that fact affect me.

But the older I get, the more it seems to affect me. Everything I have done, every wall I have set up, every rationalization I have held onto for dear life, seems unable to keep this evil, dark thing from showing it's head, like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining." "Here's that hurt, that betrayal, that pain..." it says, smiling and chasing me into still another room.

I thought I could write more about it -- but I can't right now. So, I'll just share what I journaled last night during class:

"Pure oil -- crushed olives -- burn continually"

"Why do those phrases strike me so? Purity ... something I lack. Something I've never really had -- even as a small child. Something I could never treasure, because I was so young when it was stolen from me. The "pure oil" God talks about escapes me. I wonder if I will ever be able to really have pure oil in my life?"Crushed olives -- something broken, mangled, drained of what is precious. That is me. Broken and drained of pure oil. Nothing left to offer to burn in the presence of G-d"Burning continually -- never ceasing. Passion, desire, never dying .... I feel like I have those things, yet they are not kept lit by pure oil. So, what keeps me burning?"

See, I'm not sure why this "thing" keeps coming back to me. Last Sunday, G-d and I spent about an hour talking about "things." Not just this -- but lots of dirty laundry. Things I was sure I was "over," yet in the most unexpected times, they rear their ugly heads. Some business I think I finally took care of ... a past hurt from a former employer, an old relationship that I simply needed to cut out of my heart. But there are others ... and I see the pure oil and crushed olives as a pretty major issue right now.

So, in the midst of all the beautiful things going on in life right now ... the growing of this community I'm a part of, the reaching out, the reacquainting of good friends ... I look into my heart and see the crushed olive I really am. In my brokenness, I cry out to my G-d for healing. And I know He always hears the cries of the oppressed -- even if they are oppressed in their memory. I'm sure there's more here.

But I have to go to work, so it will have to wait for another time.

"There (at the mercy seat of the Ark) I will meet with you and, from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim that are upon the ark of the Testimony, I will speak intimately with you all which I will give you in commandment to the Israelites." Exodus 25:22 (amplified)

It's interesting to me that the God of all creation told Moses that He would meet him not in some elaborate building, or after he had done masochistic repetitive acts, or sacrificed all he had, but rather between the two angels that flanked what is known as the "mercy seat" of the Ark of the Testimony (more commonly known as the Ark of the Covenant).

A little background: God had rescued the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt. He brought them out into the wilderness, and there at a mountain, He met with Moses, His appointed spokesman to the people. It's here He gives "the Big 10," or the ten commandments. But he also converses with Moses about what the relationship between God and His people should look like.

So, when I read these verses this morning, I found it interesting that God instructed Moses the place to meet with him was a place of mercy -- not power, or repentance, or anything that we so often dress God in. Instead, it was an enviroment most of us don't view God sitting in.

According to Webster's, mercy is, "A refraining from harming or punishing offenders, enemies, etc.; kindness in excess of what may be expected ... a disposition to forgive or be kind ... kind or compassionate treatment ... a fortunate thing; blessing." That was God's calling card to His people. Yeah, He's about justice and worship and many other things -- I'm not trying to oversimplify things here.

But mercy was God's invitation to Moses. He promised He would meet Moses sitting among the insence, between the cheribum (angels), and surrounded with mercy -- kindness, forgiveness, excessive compassion, blessing.

If we as followers of "the Way" would portray to our world this picture of God to our world, to other followers of what we term other "religions," to the poor, the oppressed, the people who have been screwed by this world and tend to blame the synthetic God we often elevate as our "santa in the sky," what difference would there be? And if I would live my life imitating God in this way ... giving up my right to be "right," ignoring the perceived wrongs done to me in light of meeting someone at the seat of mercy, focusing on those things that unite us and not those things that divide us... what a difference I could make! I could actually participate in bring heaven to earth. I coud actually begin looking like the God I say I serve. I could participate in something god-like.

Mercy is mine to give. Mercy is a place I can choose to live in. Mercy is where my God wants to meet with me. It should be where I desire to meet with others, too.

Today I finally did what I've been thinking about for months. I told my manager at the place I work I need to go to one day a week "for a while". I was nervous (why? I'm not sure), but it went really well. She's recently had her first baby, and she understands now more than ever why the family has to be first, not hidden in the shadow of "the job."

So now, what's next? I'm waiting for an e-mail from a contact I had to do on-line transcriptions. I have another lead about writing for the fair housing commission of my state. My son is in the beginning of forming a "musical" relationship with a couple of guys at our church, and my younger ones are just excited I will be home most mornings when they roll out of bed. I think my older daughter even feels a bit of relief.

I'm going to start walking with a friend on Monday morning -- get this old body as sexy on the outside as I feel on the inside. Soon, spring will be here, and there's the garden, the pool, the parties and campfires ... yeah, I feel kind of relieved, without having totally turned my back on my job.

In many ways, this job "saved" me. Sounds corny, but when I started it, I was still in the throughs of hating where I lived, questioning leaving my family and simply running away. I needed so much more than my happly little life was providing. I needed challenge. I needed to be surrounded by people who were as screwed up as I was. I needed reality -- a slap in the face. I needed grounding and freeing all at the same time.

My job became that. It introduced me to some life long friends. It gave me an environment where I wasn't judged because I was different -- in fact, it became the only place in my life where I was the conservitive! (still cracks me up). It taught me to be intimate with coffee -- an affair I will carry on until the day I die. And it gave me perspective -- something you quickly lose when you surround yourself with "church" people all the time.

So, even though I feel like I'm leaving another "season" of life behind, this time it's on my terms and with my consent. It's like a growing, not a yanking out and cutting away. It's a time of anticipation -- not dread. It's about actually feeling like, for once in my life, I waited on G-d's timing, and while I haven't "perfected" this skill, I'm a little proud of myself for waiting instead of rushing in.

That's it. I have a movie waiting to be watched.

Eating left over spaghetti and thinking about anarchy....

"Thus we squander countless hours watching television or balancing checkbooks -- hours that, in retrospect we might have done better to have spent walking on the seashore with our loved ones, cooking gourmet means for our children or friends, writing fiction or hitchhiking across South America. The reality of our future death is not easy for any of us to come to terms with, but it is surely better that we consider this now than regret not doing so when it is too late."*

This quote from a book I happened about reminds me of just how much I don't do. And I don't mean what I left undone that "should" be done.

I'm making a conscious effort to do things just because I want to do them. It's tough, though, because everything in our freaking culture cries out against doing things "just because." At any given moment, I can give you a list of 50 things I should be doing. Right now, there's laundry to be folded, I could be making lunch for my kids (instead of inviting them to do the "left over juggle" and find their own lunch), I could be editing a book I said I would for a friend, or watching another mindless episode of some fabricated reality on television that takes me away from the overwhelming "shoulds" in my life -- if only for 30 minutes. I could be cleaning, exercising, I haven't showered yet today, there are books to organize for a sale ... the list is endless.

But I'm blogging, because that's what I want to do.

I'm constantly caught between the expectations of what others have on me, what I "consciously" place on myself, and the deep yearnings of my heart that know there is something more. I'm not talking spiritually. I'm talking about my day to day life. I emailed a friend this morning, and told him, "I'll probably just end up dying, because I cannot reconcile what I know is right in my heart and what I "know" (in light of societal expectations) I need to do and be."

Yeah, yeah. I know we're all here at one moment or another. But if you seriously start considering how much of our life is "have to..." Even the serendipitous things we often claim as things we "want" to do fall under the category of acceptable social expectations.

If I were to leave my family for a month and wander around the northwest with a friend ... if I were to go on a two week vacation to Cuba to find a fine cigar ... if I decided that every time I go out to eat, I'd invite someone who was homeless to dine with me ... if I wanted to stay out at bars and clubs hearing bands and recording the stories of these musicians in plain clothes ... my husband would freak, my friends would think I was crazy, and my children would feel abandoned. Society would label me a sociopath or schizophrenic, and my "church" would pray for my very soul.

And all this ... passion? Desire? My husband would mistake it for lack of love for him. My children would mistake it for "something they did wrong." My community would call me selfish and a whore and just plain nuts because no one "lives" that way.

And I would argue that very few people live at all.

There's this guy I know who pretty much lives his life this way. He's not married - no kids to support - so he's not constrained by some of the things I am. But he goes and come like a spring rain -- no warning, no reasons but his own. His family thinks he's a little nuts. They are waiting for him to "settle down" and become a "respectable" person, bound and chained by the very things we are taught are normal and desirable.

Me? I hope he never stops. I hope he finds someone to love who will wander with him, or stay at home with little expectation of "what's in it for them." I hope no one and nothing ever fetters Nate's heart, because in him I see so much of what my own heart cries out to do. I live vicariously through his adventures, even the cold, dark, lonely nights he finds himself among. He gives me hope that what is "normal" is only so because we have given it some type of authority in our lives. He reaffirms my belief that the way "civilization" is organized is successful only to reach certain arbitrary levels of complacency and comfort.

That we only live in moments. And those moments are very few and far between.

"Yes, I've had my moments -- but I would have liked for my life to have been nothing but moments, one after another...."*

*Quotes are from Days of War/Nights of Love: Crimethink for Beginners, 2001

I'm not normally a "political" person. I have been known in the past to vote for "the lesser of two evils" especially when it comes to certain issues. I think overall politics are a necessary part of the system we have, but I actually have very little faith in anything "the empire" (our government and economic system) promotes.

But this upcoming election has me, I dunno, excited? And it's all because of Barack Obama.

Here's the background:

In 2004, while watching the Democratic Convention, my husband and I saw Obama's speech. After he was done, I turned to Bruce and said, "That man will be our president someday. Maybe not in 2008, but someday, watch." That was quite a statement for me to make, seeing I have a traditional Republican bent -- mostly because of the pro-life stance I take. I knew nothing about Obama, but I had a feeling...

At that time, anyone outside of Illinois had heard very little of Obama. Especially around here in no where, Michigan. But there was something -- something impossible for me to define -- that happened in my heart when I heard Barack speak.

Since then, he's become the media darling. I've followed him since 2004, and was not the least bit surprised when he decided to run this year. Today, I got my most recent issue of "Rolling Stone," and there's a great article on Barack Obama. The author, Ben Wallace-Wells, began to give me quite a bit of insight into what it might be that makes me want so badly for Obama to be my next president.

The following quotes are all from the article:

"Just being the president is not a good way of thinking about it," Obama says now. "You want to be a great president."

"People don't come to Obanma for what he's done in the Senate," says Bruce Reed, president of the centrist Democratic Leadership Counsel. "They come because of what they hope he could be." (Hope -- that's what I feel when I think about this. Wallace-Wells continues on later...)

"There is a desire to own his story, to be both his own Boswell and his own investigative reporter. When you read his autobiography, the surprising thing -- for such a measured politician -- is the depth of radical feeling that seeps through ...Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising. Obama's life story is a splicing of two different roles, and two different ways of thinking about America's. One is that of the consummate insider, someone who has been raised believing that he will help to lead America, who believes in this country's capacity for acts of outstanding virtue. The other is that of a black man who feels very deeply that this country's exercising of its great inherited wealth and power has been grossly unjust. This tension runs through his life (Obama's story is mine -- is ours!) Obama is at once an insider and an outsider, a bomb thrower and the class president. 'I'm somebody who believes in this country and it's institutions,' he tells me. 'But I often think they're broken.' "

I read that an am blown away. I feel so similar ... not only my country, but the church, my faith, most "leaders" and authority figures in my life have brought out similar feelings. Barack Obama is a reflection of me -- of my culture and generation -- so strongly that I can hardly stand it. All the other guys are still "old school" politicians. They use the system -- abuse it -- and don't really give a damn about me, my family or what we think and feel. Barack Obama's heart is our heart. Amazing. Here's more from the interview:

"When Obama returned to Chicago, he turned down big-money firms to take a job with a small civil rights practice, filing housing discrimination suits of behalf of low-income residents and teaching constitutional law on the side..." Someone who really cares about the poor? The oppressed? Give me more!

According to Paul Harstad, Obama's pollster on the campaign trail, "We were doing a focus group in suburban Chicago, and this woman, seventy years old, looks seventy-five, hears Obama's life story, and she clasps her hand to her chest sand says, 'Be still, my heart' Be still my heart -- I've been doing this for a quarter of a century and I've never seen that...the most remarkable thing, for Harstad, was that the woman hadn't even seen the videos he had brought along of Obama speaking, had no idea of what the young politician looked like. 'All we'd done,' he says, 'is to tell them the Story.'"

"The Story.." this concept is playing a big role in the community I am a part of, and to a lesser extent the church we are currently a part of. I realized, after reading this article, Obama's story is what gripped me, even before I knew it! His story is written all over his face -- his smile, his body language, his persona. I look at Obama, and I listen to his speech and his story, and I have hope that the America I was raised to believe existed may really, truly still be possible.

The article goes on to tell more about Obama's life and his political goals (which are still unclear in some areas, so that's where I need to do more research), as well as his ability to be real, unassuming, and make people comfortable. Wallace-Wells tells of his going back to Kenya, and the overwhelming response from the people of his father. His genuine concern for Africa, for the issues that concern me, too. He is the first politician who I believe speaks to this "thought generation" I am a part of.

People are comparing his charsima and his campaingn to that of Bobby Kennedy. I don't remember that -- I was way too little. But I do sense something -- electric? Different? -- in this election. We'll see ... I just pray some kook doesn't try to wack Obama before he gets a chance to show us what hope realized would look like.

"Obama biro!" is Swahili for "Obama's coming." It's my heart's cry right now. We'll see what the next year brings.

Long time -- no write.

I'm back, thanks to the encouragement of my friends. I spend a lot of my "creative energy" right now involved in a couple of new projects, so I've spent some time "re-visiting" stories of my past ... I've journaled for most of my life, and it's given me a grasp on my history that many people don't have.

What I've learned is that where I'm at now is simply a continuation of a journey I've been on a long time.

Here's what I wrote March 31, 2005:

"I think absolutely honest people would say that satisfaction is at best occasional -- shards or glimmers in the grand schematic of time and space.
We "experience" only what the broken mirror of "knowing in part" will allow us to see. Distortion at best. But we choose (again, in ignorance) to base our impression of what is true and real on that distorted image, rather than accept the fact that we are flawed and can only see in part. Our infant minds make conclusions riddled with error.

We settle for a life that is less.

We fear the relentless hunger that is our discourse. The restless spirit that invades my every waking moment cannot find its home here -- ever.

I guess people who feel like the percent they know is the "whole" are naive, or content to live a lie. They are stupid, or just blissfully ignorant -- or lazy.

They settle.

Maybe I'm beginning to do the same. Thinking I am finding satisfaction or relief from the relentless wandering that my soul suffers. Substituting whatever I find to relieve the longing for "something more." Imagining I can find a soul mate within anyone but God. Running, cursing, and hating the very desire and sadness that makes me who I am. The hunger that keeps me from falling in line with the masses.

God, help me know You!"

I read my past voice, and hear so many echoes in my present situation. These things that I consider "new" projects are simply the next part of my life. Or maybe, they are God's long awaited answer for the child who spends most of her time living lost. I don't know. But I'm glad I don't have to walk this road alone.