Peace on earth, good will to who?

Thanks to some very dear friends, our house was decorated for Christmas on December 1st. I've watched more Christmas movies than I ever have before, and since our Christmas show has been postponed til January (long story) , I don't have 6 nights of rehearsals ahead of me this week. In fact, a week from tonight, I will be three days away from some time in the Poconos with the hubby and the pup. But as I sit watching the Grinch this evening, I feel more like the Grinch than the Whos. I feel like my heart is two sizes too small this year. I made sure to not think about Christmas music until the day after Thanksgiving, which we've been listening to ever since. But yet, as I sing along to yet another version of "I'll be home for Christmas", I find myself still refusing to let people into traffic lines ahead fo me and mumbling under my breath when they show their lack of knowledge of traffic laws. I'd like to say I'm praying that the Christmas spirit finds me soon, but I think that's part of the problem. I've been letting my frustration at life's situations so affect me that it's not just the Christmas spirit that's eluding me, it's the Spirit of the Lord that I've turned my back on. I wish I had a nice snappy way to wrap up this post, some sort of resolve. I so want resolve. So much so that I often refuse to end a story or thought without one. But I'm afraid tonight resolve eludes me as much the Christmas spirit. So I'll end in the immortal words of Cindy Lu Who. "Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you?.... Did Christmas change or just me?"

Thoughts...

Thanks to Jen (check out the new link on the right...) I'm now the proud owner of a themed blog. YAY! But as for today, where as previously I was conflicted... today I am divided. I want to become organized, pulled together and dazzling. I chastise myself in my head for not being so. Instead, on the outside, I remain frazzled, scattered and slightly impressive. Oh to hope. Another pic of the dog to make life better... In the spirit of my new themed page...


He tried to eat the hat soon after this pic was taken.

Conflicted

Today I am feeling conflicted. Conflicted about where I live, my faith, my life. Last night, after putting in my 8ish hours at New City, I drove to the heights for a meeting. I was going through an intersection when the light turned yellow above me. Previous to me entering the intersection, 3 people had begun to cross the street against the light and into my path. I honked to warn them when I got into the intersection. 2 of the people stopped. One, a teenage boy, not more than 15, but thugged out, kept walking and spit (yes... spit) on my truck. I want to live somewhere else. Somewhere where people are nice. Somewhere where being a Christian doesn't mean being unprofessional and ill prepared. We are looking at a house around the block. Nothing like the grand place on the quiet street we've looked at before. It's a small place nearly connected to a bodega. The scary part. We may actually get it. I'm scared we will finally have a place of our own that we'll be responsible for, but it's what I've wanted for so long. There is a speech, I'm going to misquote it I'm sure, but the essence is that our biggest fear is not that we'll fail, but that we'll succeed. I'm so used to being a horrible failure that success is too frightening. I'm so used to my life being such a mess that I don't want to say no and get organized and just concentrate on God because when all else is stripped away and I'm in his presence, nothing will ever be the same again. Worry is like a comfortable blanket for me. I've spent nights awake lately because my brain won't slow down. I invent things to worry about. And I think it's catching. Speedy has become a bit of a worry-wart lately. He cries when we leave the house, cries when we take him in the car with us, shakes in the cold but hates wearing a warm sweater. Yet again, my dog is my mirror. I did whisper a thanks this morning when I got back from taking joe to the train. I'm so thankful that there's another little body in my house to keep me company. On that note, another pic of the pup to brighten my day and yours.

This is one of our Christamas card pics. The caption is "YAY WINTER!!!" Actually he hates the winter stuff. Well, he hated the ear wrap, he actually curled up and took a nap in the scarves. Hope he makes you smile too.

The Why of the Dog

I was talking to Joey on the phone today when I realized that once again, there was a furry body in the bed. Granted, I had told him earlier it would be allowed until I made the bed, then the whole bedroom would be off limits to avoid the dreaded body divot. So as I was talking to Joey, I also was talking to the pup. And then it after I hung up the phone with my lovely husband, and continued to talk to the pup, I realized, we have dogs in order to allow us to talk to ourselves without feeling overly foolish. I'm so glad to finally have that monkey off my back! Now. Because I am feeling very excited today (i learned to link to something within my post thanks to studying Natalie's site yay!)So I think I shall celebrate by doing something else cool. I shall include a picture of the pup and Joe.

This is the pup and Joe contemplating the deck and all things natural out at the place in the Poconos. We're headed there again this weekend to celebrate 5 years of marriage. YAY US! I'll post some more pics of the pup soon.

Wishes for the funny

I would so like to be funny today. But since the hubby woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he woke me up on the wrong side of the bed, so it seems all I can muster is "wry". I have been going to the gym. Joe and I joined a couple of months ago, and I have been steadily working out with a body builder named Juan. For me, he is the perfect blend of mean and sweet. During our workout, if I wuss out on something, he taunts me. Only after we're finished for the day does he give me a high five and tell me how strong I'm getting. I'm bound and determined to look like a different person when I go back home for Christmas this year. Heck, I aim to look different by the next time we go to Flemington, which will probably be Thanksgiving. I have decided my life has become too sedintary, so much so that when I am running out the door for crazy busy reasons, I'm always three steps behind before I even start. Someday I will perfect this thing we call life. But for now, my first step is to get the pup some food.

Hope and the Flipside of the Coin

So this morning, at 8:40 am, I thought of the most wonderful post. I dropped off the hubby, did my time at the gym, excited to come home and post. A mere hour later, I experienced the other side of my post... so I thought I'd share both with you. It's fall here. I think it's fall mostly everywhere else too, but fall in the city means something very strange and mysterious. Crossing Guards. It is incumbent on the Jersey City Crossing Guard to direct traffic at times, in order to get their charges safely across the road. Unfortunately, as with most Jersey City citizens, the crossing guards do not know traffic laws. (I am beginning to believe there are no actual traffic laws in Jersey City...) However, on this bright and beautiful morning, I saw something amazing. There are two lights in a row that have left turn arrows. Purposely, to allow those cars to turn left unimpeded (the idea behind the brilliant left turn arrow) the crosswalk signs remain at "Don't Walk." Usually people ignore this and, seeing that the light is red on their side, they begin to walk, holding up the left turning people, making them angry so that they try to force their way into the intersection even beyond their left turn arrow and they in turn block up oncoming traffic, because by this time, more people have showed up at the crosswalk and by now the sign says "Walk" so they do. I hate traffic. BUT TODAY!!! A lovely crossing guard held our her stop sign forcing the 2 people waiting at the cross walk to wait until the green arrow had gone to yellow! She looked to see that there were no more cars waiting to turn left, and only then did she let her charges cross the street!! I am praying heaps of blessings down on her head right now. Mind you, I didn't turn left until the next intersection, but to see that there was common sense in existence in Jersey City was a miracle. But then. My hope for the good of all that is common sensical here in Jersey City was dashed to pieces. You may have seen in the national news that the school districts in Emerson, New Jersey had received a bomb threat earlier in the week. Emerson is a bit away, but we in the city have come to realize that we are always living slightly on guard. So on my way home from the gym, I have to pass by a school. I noticed that traffic was stopped and there seemed to be a sea of little yellow polo shirts crossing the road. There were a couple of cop cars and a public school safety vehicle. In retrospect, it may have only been the requesite fire drill, but due to the limited space in Jersey City, when a school needs to be evacuated, students must often cross a road to be a safe distance away. I got stuck in the traffic of them crossing back to the school yard to reassemble and re-enter the school. Mind you, it is a LARGE school. There were a lot of yellow polo shirt clad children crossing the road. I, being on a runners high after the gym and listening to my favorite new song on the radio, put my car in park, thankful that the children all seemed to be ok, and the school was intact. ( I have seen what happens when its not just a drill.) Next to me, a guy proceeds to lay on his horn, voicing his frustration that the line of traffic was not moving. I, having the common sense of the wise traffic guard, knew that the line of traffic would start moving when the children were all across the street and the waiting cops allowed traffic to move again. Non-common sense driver next to me thought that laying on his horn, oh not once, but TWICE mind you, would magically move the entire line of traffic through the line of children and the waiting cops without getting him thrown in jail. Pray for the common sense of Jersey City. We could use some.

Body Divots and the Four-Legged Bed Invader

I was away last week for six days. I was in British Columbia being wined and dined and golfed into a blissful oblivion. Joey was here in Joisey working like crazy. Speedy had the house to himself. Not a good plan. When Joey would finally get home, he would crawl into bed and wait for my very late call (British Columbia and New York evidentaly are not on the same time zones...). Speedy decided to keep him company and helped himself to my side of the bed. Joey informed me during our nightly phone call that Speedy was sleeping in a human fashion, head resting on my pillow. I was not pleased. I don't like to share my pillow. I told Joe this was probably not a good thing to allow as the rightful owner of the right side of the bed would soon be home. We have spent this whole week waking up every couple of hours to the little "tap tap tap tap" of Speedy's nails as he leaves his perfectly lovely house with wonderful fluffy pillows to come jump into our bed, nudging us out of the way and burrowing under the covers. Joey will push him out of bed, he'll come around to my side, stand up agains the rail, and I say "Speedy, go lay down." It's not a nightly ritual I like. What I like even less than a fuzzball in my bed is a body divot. We splurged and got the 'baffle-box construction feather bed with synthetic feathers'. All of which makes it sound like you'll be sleeping on a cloud of air. Except the cloud only lasts for all of 2 minutes. If you don't fall asleep in those two minutes, you can feel the faux feathers compressing into your body shape, loosing all of its fluffy comfort. I've been trying to be more efficient on my Wednesday laundry day, making the bed as soon as I get back from the laundromat. Only, I've been finding out that once I fluff the feather bed and put the sheets on, Speedy decides that it is indeed the most comfortable place in the house, and since he has taken a liking to my side of the bed, we'll come home from our Wednesday life groups to find that the nice fluffy bed is all ready for us to climb into, with a large, dacshaund-shaped dent on my side. Ah, life with the pup.

So the thing about trust is....

So I realize I start 90% of my posts with "so". Random thought, but that's me. Anywho, on to the post. We went to Flemington for the Revelation Generation festival and Labor Day. We decided to take our pup, Speedy. It was his first big trip in the car. The ride out to Flemington was pretty bad. We'd gotten sedatives for him, but didn't have enough time for them to take effect before we had to get under way. We also had car trouble on the way out, so long story short, we're careening, ala "Speed" around the circles in Flemington and Speedy is pacing in the back, eventually loosing his bread that we had to feed his pill to him with. But after a good weekend, filled with off the leash roaming, steak bones and love from every person in sight, we were ready to head home. We gave Speedy his pill plenty of time in advance (so much so that he was tripping around staring at butterflies) and then loaded him in the car. We'd laid down the plastic sheet, he had the whole backseat to himself with his bed and his favorite pillow, yet he never fell asleep. He kept trying to get up, putting his paw up on the console between the front seats. So I wondered aloud to Joey, "Why doesn't he just trust us. He knows we love him and we're not getting rid of him" (we think his previous owner may have given him cause to fear the car) but for some reason, he still hasn't let go and won't trust us completely. There's still a wariness in his eyes that says he's not sure if we're the ones who will love him for the rest of his life. Then it hit me. I'm asking my little clueless pup to do the same thing God is asking of me. God's got wonderful things in store for me, and the journey itself is part of the adventure. Yet I won't just lay down and trust Him. How much better would it be if I would.

Country Girl in the Big City

So the summer makes me struggle a lot with my decision to live here in Joisey. Not that I was ever really a country girl, mind you. I did drive a truck, had all the country radio stations on preset and had cows in my back yard. However, when I met a dear friend, before she found out where I was from, she automatically assumed it was New York.
Quite often in the summer we go down the shore (that's the way it's said, not down to the shore or anything like that... "down the shore"...) for a Saturday. We sit on the Parkway fighting traffic, me hiding my face and begging Joey to drive slower. But somehow, when we get there, I feel at home.
There are days that I don't mind living next to New York City. September here is perfect. Going over to see the Christmas tree in Rock Center (definately not on the day they do the lighting though... I'm not INSANE!) But right now, in the throes of August, where the air is so humid, you feel like your lungs are dripping on the inside, the heat is so oppressive and it makes the garbage stink. All drivers are bad drivers, and people are oblivious to common courtesy. I just want to run and live on a ranch in Alaska. Sometimes the city is beautiful, sometimes my heart is ugly. If I make it through today, I'll have 2 more days of August to deal with. Now, September 1st, I will be out at Revelation Farms at the RevGen festival. There will be grass, there will be space, and my only responsibility is to make sure my little cousins have fun. Something tells me September is shapeing up to be quite nice...

Never Alone

So I've been feeling rather alone lately. I've been feeling like I'm going through something entirely, horribly unique. But in the last 5 days, I've had talks with 2 people who are in varying stages of my exact confusing frustration. I know the Bible says that the Lord will never leave you nor forsake you, but it's also very encouraging to know that He gives you human bodies to commiserate with. Sometimes you really need that human body to let you know that you will be actually able to make it through. I made the mistake of praying that God would use our vacation to change me, to change my outlook. I wanted to see myself as He sees me. I had all these romanticized notions of a magic "poof" moment where all would finally be fixed and amazing. Unfortunately, before I can see myself in that advanced state, I get to see all the ugliness that needs fixed. Yay. But at least I know I'm going in the right direction. Joey had a picture in his head a while back of us standing on the close side of a giant cavern, with God on the other side reaching out His hand to us. The path we had been on ended at the cavern's opening. On God's side, it was a wild, untamed wilderness. We could either choose to stay on our side of the cavern with its clearly marked path, or take God's hand and jump across. Once we would go across, we would be unable to get back across to the 'safe' side. Also, once across, we would have to stick closely to God so as to not loose our way. We're well into the wilderness now, and sometimes I lag behind and lose sight of God. Thankfully, He's got one eye on where we're going and one eye on us. I have a feeling it's going to be a wild journey. Here goes nothing!

Independance Day

Exactly 14 years ago, I sat next to a lake on the campus of Teens Missions in Cocoa Beach Florida and watched the fireworks. As I sat, I got up the nerve to talk to one of our counselors about the decision I had made that evening during the program. Even after growing up in the church, I decided I hadn't really lived like I meant it. So I made the decision to re-commit myself to the walk of faith I thought I had been living. I've been questioning that walk ever since. Not in a bad way, mind you. I've simply been asking myself why I do what I do, say what I say and believe what I believe. And ever since that night, every July 4th, I watch the finale of the fireworks and think "God is celebrating with me." Tonight was no different. It was truly a Jersey Shore moment, we were watching from the docks, and when the finale ended, all the boat horns sounded in appreciation, and then someone cranked up Springsteen's "Born in the USA." And while I am glad to be celebrating the 231st birthday of my beloved country, I'm even more excited to be celebrating 14 years of glorious questioning. Because in my questioning I'm finding answers, and my answers lead to learning and knowing more. My father always asks, "Did you learn something new today? Then it's a good day." Happy Birthday America, here's to a good day!

Empty

So none of the other people here seem to have really active faith lives. And I'm realizing how empty a life is if it doesn't have a purpose given by God. I see these people living their lives and I wonder, do they just think they'll go through and this is all there is? Just get older and fade away? My brother is doing a Bible study on a John Piper book, and I was struck by the example of a older couple who had retired and their lives consisted of playing softball, sailing their 40 foot trawler and looking for seashells on the beach. Piper makes the comment, what are they going to do when the get to Heaven and stand before the Lord? Stand there and say "here God, look at my shells!" Granted, I know my purpose involves being here on this beach this week. To meet Craig, our minister neighbor, to share love with the mother of 3 who has been hurting for most of her life, to be an example to the rambunctious 11 year old boy who doesn't understand discipline and to let Joe's dad see what life can be like when you have a guiding hand in it. He just watched his mom pass away, and I know death is so much more imminent now to him, but we want to show him that it's not the end. It is becoming evident that although this week is about rest and rejuvenation for us, it is also still ministry. Our life is ministry. We are an open book for the people around us to read the story of what God can do in a life. I pray that our story is read, understood and internalized.

Patriotic Hymns, Little Kisses and the Color Green

So we arrived at LBI yesterday before everyone else in the group which was nice. Gave us a chance to get acclimated and spend some quiet time on the beach by ourselves. Also gave us a chance to meet our neighbor for the week, whom we found out is a minister who is friends with a pastor we know at First Assembly in Bayonne. Small world. Just a way of God letting us know that even with all the insanity of the last couple of days, He's still orchestrating this concert of our lives.
We biked around town a bit to get the lay of things and found a little Methodist Church that looked promising for service this morning. We confirmed with our neighbor that it was an ok place to go, and off we went this morning. Majority of the folk there were of the wise, white haired variety (one of the little choir ladies just celebrated 97 years this week), but there was a familiarity that put me at ease. We sang "God of our Fathers" (or God of the Ages as it is in the new PC hymnbooks...) with its trumpet intro. I imagined my dad's voice singing the exact same song back in Ohio today. I always love hearing him sing that one. The tenor line can get pretty high, and I could picture the way his forehead stretches out for him to hit the notes. The "prayer song" as it was labeled was "ask and it shall be given unto you..." a verse from an old camp song. Even more poignant today as I was asking to be freed from the guilt and pain I've carried for so long.
I was also able to genuinely laugh today. The pastor had gone into a time of silent prayer, as indicated by the bulletin, and it had gone not more than 15 seconds until the pianist (another wise, white haired lady) started playing robustly the offertory song "God Bless America". The pastor was a very theatrical man who looked up, looked back, went back to her piano and pointed to where they were supposed to be in the bulletin. She finished the line with a quiet flourish and he hugged her shoulders. I joined the rest of the congregation in laughing not at her, but at our own mix ups and failings. Knowing that when we do mess up, God turns around, points us in the right direction and gives us a hug.
I am amazed that God finds ways to give me little kisses of joy and peace just to let me know that He hasn't quite forgotten me yet. I may scream and cry to Him that He has, but He hasn't. Every little detail is in His hand. We went back out on the beach this evening for a walk with Joe's dad. As we walked the sun was setting over the bay on the other side of the island. The pink and purple sky reflected on the sand and the water, making the water turn the loveliest shade of green. I intensely dislike the color green. I think it makes me look sick if I wear it, I admonish Joey for using it in lighting schemes and I refuse to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream (I have more against the chips than I do the mint, but still). But the water in the evening is this beautiful shade of green against blue that looks like stained glass as the wave begins to crest. And I think to myself, surely God is here. Surely He is real and surely He loves me and has not forgotten me. But it isn't just here that He loves me. He loves me in the city when it is grey and dreary and I haven't seen the sun for days. Here, though, He reminds me with kisses of joy and the patriotic hymns my father sings so masterfully. Here I am reminded I live in a country where I am still free to worship how I choose when I choose. May I never choose to stop.