except You-

holy sonnet xiv.



Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. 
-john donne.

where the heat is.

Janae (space heater not pictured)

We have these friends who live in a pretty big house. It is a good home. These friends are men and there must be at least 20 of them living in this one house. And even though it is winter, they refuse to turn the heat on until January...

Because look at all the money they're saving! When I visit them, I take my wool socks. Most of the news I hear from my friend Nick, who lives in the house, is that he's cold. Just cold. All the time. I get texts like "I live in the Arctic" or "I'm wearing three coats" to which I respond "I live in a crock pot! Come to our home!"

We definitely don't skimp on turning on the heat. Janae has a tiny space heater and we place it in one room or another and we huddle in front of it doing homework, drinking coffee, napping, making dinner...

Which I love,  because it makes me feel like heat is where the heart is. All of us drawn to it like the porch light of a home I am so sick for sometimes. 

The rain in Spain! El Parque Guell, Barcelona. 

This week, I am a sponge. Soaking up so much water, so many things to do-- weddings (Victoria's getting married! It's so surreal), visits from friends (IsraelC gets here tomorrow!), group projects, research papers (does anyone really care about Social Judgment Theory?), dirty dishes, and some ugly shadows rearing their ugly heads at me. I am just glaring into all of it, yelling 'come at me, brah!' like my friend Courtney always says, as she does a little boxer's dance like Ali, picking her fights and taking names. 
And time is squeezing all the water out, forcefully. Now there is no choice but to do. 

familia.

What I'm scared of most about graduating is finding a job where I fit in as well as I do at the radio station. About finding work with people who care about a cause, who care about me, who I can care about, and who care about people. 

Fun with Don's iPhone

Because here- they care so much about people. There is no mistake where their hearts lie. They spend precious work time on the phone with listeners, talking them through hard things, taking prayer requests, praying over the phone, standing at the booths at events, talking talking talking, listening listening listening. It's not just the music that creates this ministry; it is the people keeping it up and running.

Over the years, they've come to know my family and close friends as they've passed through bringing me lunch or coffee. One day, Walter (the station engineer) texted me saying my good friend was crying in her car in the Andy's parking lot. He had recognized her face and thought she could use a friend. When I drove over and crawled in her passenger seat, she asked how I had known she was there- "Walter told me." She was shocked at how much he cared when most people would have just walked by.

Sali, the office manager, has given my hand-me-downs and furniture, listened to my rants, given me time off work to do homework, knitted me Christmas presents and brought me coffee. Don, the morning show host, is my father figure and smothers me with bear hugs, encouragement, and good advice. He even has a picture of me on his shelf, among pictures of his own kids. Even my "hardhearted" boss Ernest jokes around with the student workers during our meetings and keeps miniature Angry Bird plush toys in his office to battle us with. We celebrate everyone's birthday, and decorate for the holidays, and have moments of extreme laughter where we roll on the ground from the hilarity. They all make time for people.

I'm worried about not being able to find a place where we can all gather together in a tiny office and pray. At one point last year, I came in before going to speak to my boyfriend about breaking up. They all dropped what they were doing, came into Sali's office and put their arms around me, praying for God's will and strength and hope. What beautiful people. They are such Christians- and I know by their love.

I feel so very at home here, at the front desk. Among my to-do list and post it notes. I'm worried about having to clean out my desk at the end of the year and move on. I'm worried about finding another family. Perhaps my expectations are too high, being blessed with such a positive work environment. But I hope that I can carry their influence in my heart enough that perhaps I will be the one to start this same kind of thing somewhere else.

some dreams

For years now, I've made it a priority to get my boss Ernest at the station to play songs on the radio that I, personally, think people would appreciate.

It doesn't go over well usually :). He's a hard one to convince. While I was in Spain two years ago, I was listening to Gungor a lot, and found the song "Beautiful Things" and thought it was beautiful. I asked him over and over and over for a year and half to play it. And he finally did.

Honestly, it hasn't been as accepted by our target audience as I hoped. But it doesn't make it any less meaningful to ME!

Here's another song that he won't add to our playlist, but means something to me. Because my mom and I listen to it on road trips and sing as loud as we can and stomp our feet. And it's appropriate for this time of year (Holidayzzzz!) when people are coming home or leaving home. And that is meaningful, too.

winter.

Winter has a way of showing you where the leaks are
The heat has been escaping through the cracks in our front door
And through the walls even--
The builders left them paper thin with no insulation.

The faucet has been dripping,
the drain not draining
and I've been skipping work.

And here we think we build such strong houses-
sealed in plastic and metals and gooey stuff,
but the air escapes & the water takes it's time
running away to the pipes.

And here I think I build such strong walls--
sealed water-tight.
But still you come-
a faint breeze seeping through, unexpectedly in winter
Like the broken window seals
that leak
so much
water.

friends who don't change.

and then you beg me to come find you
and pull you back to the ground
and tether you to something that won't change
when you get out of range.
-chris velan

there is a light.

A couple weeks ago, a 15 year old girl named Malala Yousufzai was shot in the head and neck on a school bus in Pakistan by the Taliban. She was targeted because she spoke out about her right to receive an education-- for all girls to receive an education. And this terrorist group shot her for it.

I bet they were even more upset when they found out that she lived.
And will keep speaking out.
She received a nomination for the International Children's Peace Prize.
And that people are rallying behind her.
Cheering for her and her friends.
For mankind.
And the goodness in all of us.

Being involved in Amnesty International has opened my eyes to...almost too much, and I'm a little scared. Because the violations of human rights globally is overwhelming. Like aperture in photography, long exposure lets in more light than short exposure. And this is going to be a life-long venture, I feel.

The other night, I came across a poem I wrote in Spain. It was long and boring and didn't rhyme, but the last line I remember and wonder what I was thinking when I wrote it. But now I feel that it is what Malala is saying to all of us.

"There is a light!!!
can you see it?
-- are your eyes open?"

the hawk-

David rescued a hawk yesterday--
it was hit by a car, it's little leg all mashed
like potatoes.
Wouldn't fly, couldn't walk.
He wrapped it in a jacket
Let it rest in the passenger seat and drove it to the vet
Asking if he could save it
Could something be done?!
Some things are just so badly
damaged and can't be
salvaged--

not in the driver's seat

"Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for?" -Matthew 16

fresh air.

The rain hasn't stopped for even a minute today. And its one of those days where I wish I could drag my twin mattress down to the back of my truck, haul all the blankets out of the house and drive out to Valley Chapel to sleep under the stars. Teresa Reich, whose field I usually park in, always tells me, "come sleep on the couch when you get cold, crazy girl!"

All summer at Leoni, I slept in my hammock, hung up under the deck of the lodge or on top of the 40 foot climbing tower. For the first few weeks, I woke up with my heart pounding from coyotes howling. I was terrified the first time I heard them; the echo created by the building made them sound like they were directly underneath me. I moved my bed into the lobby.  But by the end of the summer, I was running out into the meadow to yell at them to stop yipping!

The reason sleeping outside works is because it makes my brain stop worrying about the things that worry me and start to worry more about staying warm (or getting eaten by the wildlife).

It's just me out there. What a grand adventure, finding out I made it through the night when I wake up covered in all the leaves that couldn't hold on any longer, and let go in the middle of the night.