breakfast with strangers

i took a seat at the end of a long community table at joan's on third - a bustling new york-italian-style cafe' in mid-city los angeles. when my food arrived, i went to reach for utensils, which were a few seats down toward the middle of the table. as i reached across the man sitting next to me, i said, "pardon my reach." to which he then responded, "i had to pardon your driving outside."

"oh," i replied with a smiling voice so i would not seem altogether biting, "so you were the one waving me to go around you, although i had no possible way of doing so."

"yes, that was me."

"well, i'm glad you found a parking spot." (still smiling)

there was then a bit of awkwardness lingering for the next few minutes as i attempted to get back into my recently acquired collection of George MacDonald children's stories. as i continued to read and not eat, my traffic acquaintance decided to speak to me again, this time commenting on how i was eating at a beyond slow pace. the other man across from me agreed and it became the topic of a brief discussion between the three of us. it was then that i started to enjoy myself.

there are so many people. different people with different ways of viewing the world. i'm not used to being so close to strangers. i tend to romanticize it in theory and talk of the allure of new york city for that very reason. but it is not my tendency here in los angeles and when it becomes my situation, i am embarrassingly jarred.

the main cause of the spirit of fear...

...self - self-love, self-concern, self-protection.

There is only one way to get rid of self, and that is that you should become so absorbed in someone or something else that you have no time to think about yourself. Thank God, the Spirit of God makes that possible...

What then? Go on to think of the love of the Son in its breadth, its length, it depth, its height; go on to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge. Think of Him who came from the Courts of Heaven and laid aside the insignia of His eternal glory and was born as a babe, worked as a carpenter and endured the contradiction of sinners against Himself. Think of Him into whose holy face men spat and on whose brow they pressed a crown of thorns and into whose hands and feet the nails were hammered. There He is on the Cross. What is He doing there? There He died for us, that you and I might be forgiven and reconciled to God. Think of His love, and as you come to know something about it, you will forget yourself.

- Martin Lloyd-Jones

remembering what sarah said

alex,

forgetting my lost words yesterday, i did a dance. i put on the song "how he loves us," and just danced and danced. may i suggest painting, screaming, dancing, or shouting for your wordless, stuck moments.

sarah

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

the apartment is in slumber right now and it would be discourteous of me to dance outrageously or scream until i am breathless...

but i love sarah's advice and am doing all these things in my imagination as i lie silently in bed.

new addition

and then there was rest

When I rise, may I rise up joyful, like a bird. When I fall, may I fall without regretting, like a leaf. - Wendell Berry


it seems to me that i fall in love in a tardy fashion.

all it takes to stir my heart to consider love
is to sit under a tree,
with a friend,

and laugh as sturdy leaves fall to our heads

and marvel at how God likes blue.

kuhm-pleyn

complain - to express dissatisfaction, pain, uneasiness, censure, resentment, or grief; find fault:


Synonyms:
1. grumble.

Antonyms:
1. rejoice.

thoughts before bed

there are dozen's of photographs of Senator Edward Kennedy on the NY Times website. Mr. Kennedy (whom i know nothing about, except that he was a politician, is now dead and had a really big and polished funeral, catholic style.) but as i was looking through these pictures, i kept imagining the vibrant, smiling man now inside a fancy wooden box underground. people die by the minute, it's nothing new. but i'm affected a little more than usual tonight. maybe it was that yo yo ma, the president, the almost president and many more high profile people were all in the pictures at this man's funeral. and i'm sure he had himself attended funerals and thought (maybe?) that it would never be his turn. i think that a lot. not conceptually, for i know everyone dies. but i live as though i have many years ahead, forgetting the pressing urgency of my purpose in this life. i dally around, lethargic and complaining, frustrated at things that have no eternal significance, according to God. i worry about money, about accomplishment, recognition of said accomplishment, being ahead of the person next to me, being more right, more free, more rich, more profound, more serious and engaged with a better work ethic, etc...

and tomorrow if i were to meet Jesus face to face, I imagine He would say something like, "was all that stuff really worth the commitment of your deepest emotions?"

tonight, while working at the restaurant, i wondered if i could feel miserable and be thankful at the same time.

i've been working at the restaurant for almost five years now and at five years the company gives you a gift. it's nice, but i don't really need or want any of the gifts i am to choose from. i'd like a cool piece of art or maybe a gift card for a nice dinner or maybe a week paid vacation. but instead i get a big, sharp knife. which would be great if i cooked and if i wasn't a complete klutz in danger of slicing a finger off by accident. i figure that i could give it to someone who does cook and is good with sharp objects.

where would i like to be right now? with sarah in ireland. at an oxford library with a stack of books and a cup of tea. climbing a tree.

reunion part 2 - eyes everywhere

while i was in Seattle for my 10 year (high school) reunion, i stayed with dan in a really big house. i stayed on the bottom floor (the basement?) and the room was filled with things with eyes. everywhere i turned, something was looking at me. afterward, i thought of that movie where the doll comes to life and kills people.

reunion part 1 - motor-homing and stuff

dan and doug have to move their motor home every 72 hours or something in order not to have to pay the city of Seattle the current going rate for parking violations. when they asked me to participate in the relocation ritual, i briefly and inwardly hesitated because i was really into my book. but i figured that it was time for an adventure - being that i was out of LA and in the company of interesting people. time to do something that "didn't compute" as Mr. Wendell Berry would say.

doug brought along a large silver boom box and played some funky music as we walked and walked to the motor home. i felt not like 28-year-old, los angeles me. i felt like a suburban high school rebel out past curfew.

i once lived in a motor home when i was younger. for a couple of years. i slept on the couch in the faux living room. the shower was plastic and narrow. we also had a truck. i liked to take my pillows out to the back of the truck and watch the stars.

the engine had to warm up before we could be on our way. after circling the block two or three times, doug went to park and i thought it would be a grand idea to keep driving. dan was up for it and so on we went. doug called a number of people, hoping they would also be up for a Sunday night cruise on Capitol Hill. No one answered. We made note of how people answer their phones less often these days. i am guilty of that. sometimes i just stare at the phone as it rings and then neglect to check the message until the next day...or the next day.

i didn't have my phone with me at the moment. it was a rare moment because i always have my phone. dan mentioned that i couldn't update my facebook status, which was funny because i was having such a good time that i wanted to update my status more than ever. i wanted to document my adventure with a picture or witty synopsis to let people know i was living on the edge. i was not in my familiar world and i wanted the world to know it.

dan and i sat in the back and talked about high school stuff. i told him i thought he was the coolest person. i really did. i used to think about him a lot and i'd get jealous of any girl he'd go to a dance with. i didn't tell him that. i invited him to the sadie hawkins dance one time and made him wear abercrombie. i am now embarrassed about that part - the desperate-to-be-fashionable-abercrombie part.

dan and doug have these super high quality 1070's speakers in their house. i think there's like 7 little speakers in each big speaker. i put on French music and dan opened a bottle of cheap syrah. dan and i read and doug did his version of reading - arts and crafts. as i sat there by the big speaker i kept hearing nuances of each song that i didn't know were part of the song. this was an album that i've listened to countless times and at moments i felt like i was hearing a brand new song. familiar, but layered with surprises. i told dan the experience reminded me of God. how i know God and am familiar with Him, but how lovely and exciting it is when i hear Him on big speakers containing a bunch of smaller speakers and nuances that i had missed before are clear and resonant. that happens most when i am in the presence of other people. different people. people i haven't already taken for granted.

distress to salvation

my imagination has withered. i credit my job. sometimes i raise my eyes heavenward and whisper to my Maker, "how long? will there ever be anything else for me in terms of work?"

i am worn and on the verge of collapsing.

but i consider the lovely things that have grown from the drudgery. things that i would not call vanity. the red flower, unknowingly triumphant against a barren landscape. i am thankful. but can i be thankful even in my discontent?

i see glimpses of rescue. for others. for myself. for all of us together.

i read books. i imagine a restored land. i rest my head on the shoulder of the Crucified.

work. rest. hope.

the poetry of resurrection

"And if we will have an angel at the tomb, make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom..."
- John Updike

We must grow deeper into the cross...and become evermore fascinated with Jesus - with his really dying and really rising from the dead - for His resurrection was the undoing of the most seemingly definite thing. Until He was raised, Jesus’ followers felt defeated, foolish and stuck in an unbearable place. And then, Hope was restored. They were remembered and called by name through the lips of Hope himself. Why should be despair unless we are uncertain of the implications of the resurrection? We are no longer hopelessly broken. We are being put back together rightly and we are being renewed through and through. There is beauty forever beyond the reach of shadow.* What do you make of the resurrection?


*Tolkein, LTR

poetry feast

let me tell you of last night!

a small gathering of people, some familiar, some not. books on every wall. a table spread with delicious things. poetry, poetry, poetry! aloud! voices rising, sweetening the air. thoughts ping-ponging silently, knowingly.


billy collins, wendell berry, madeleine l’engle, william carlos williams, lucy shaw, e.e. cummings...


in the expressions of these, i find refreshment. hilarity. wonder. anticipation.


it would be nice to read aloud more often. to each other. not rushing.

a better narrative

M.O. said a profound thing this afternoon:

"often my own stuff gets in the way, but when i just get back to the story, i get excited again."

i get caught up in my stuff and stop telling myself the ultimate Story. i crumple the map given to me and hurl it to the ground in rebellious disregard. then i am perplexed as to why i can't seem to navigate my way over unfamiliar terrain. 

forget me not

after a month of exhaustion, God has sweetly met my concerns with His peace...

God is faithful to reveal Himself - through Christ and through those who belong to Christ! Rankin mentioned my name today in his sermon. he was talking about spiritual gifts and specifically about the gift of exhortation. then he said my name and i was quieted. what is in a public acknowledgement? a whole lot. testimony, affirmation, encouragement. often, it is embarrassing to be an example. but today i received it well because it was a specific address to the story of unrest and seeking that i have been telling and retelling for the past month. i was elated because - especially for those traveling close with me - in that moment, credit was to the Praiseworthy, affirming that He is indeed an involved God who does not forget His children.

as far as the next steps are concerned...God also brought a gem of a book into my life recently from which i read this thought on the torment of uncertainty.

unrest noted

not a peaceful night at work. mildly distressed. shouldn't be. it is a blessing to have a job. i complain too much, get irritated easily and shut down in a fury of tears.

i pray you, speak

What am I thankful for? What do I rejoice over?

That my name is written in heaven. (Luke 10:20)

That the Father has revealed to me that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. (Matthew 16:17)

That I am Christ’s, and Christ is God’s. (1Corinthians 3:22)

lately, a storm

it has been a tumultuous four weeks. a lot of questions, worries, disappointments, uncertainty, solemnity. what is of eternal significance? am i missing it all? am i disappointing God?

Rankin has been preaching through Ephesians and the following question was posed in response to last week's sermon:

Have you discovered your place in God’s kingdom/your unique calling? If so, how are you exercising that gift? If not, how do you plan to discover what Christ has given to you?

To which my response, after a few uneasy murmurings was...

This is a most disturbing question! My unique calling? umm...i don't know!...??? maybe...to come along side people, to listen, to hear the story underneath all the stories and then discern how to weave the true story of Jesus into every believed story, exposing how the gospel is meaningful and significant to all. essentially, to encourage people in the truth of what Jesus has done and who they are because of and in Him? Still, I am most uncertain.

How do I plan to discover my spiritual gifts???... Seeking through prayer, conversations with the church, risk-taking (challenging what is appealing, desirable and comfortable), and finally resting in "the truth that overcomes terrible lie" (Sally Lloyd-Jones) – the truth that I am God’s child, Christ’s beloved sister, prone to folly, fault and weakness, yet being made new by a power greater than all my perpetual misgivings. ???

*      *      *      *      *

is there a place for me?

yes.

is my work in vain?

Christ's work in and through me, never.

what are my gifts?

engage and find out.

am i using my gifts?

ask His people.

where do i go from here?

proclaim, build, enjoy, rest.

where is my place?

He is preparing it.

move please...now

lately, the sentence that most frequently flies out of my mouth is, "Get out of my way." i thought this was just the case at the restaurant, but no...i often say it elsewhere, which leaves me no sufficient justification for such a grossly entitled thought.

K. gave me a tip - when turning around, turn in one spot. This i will make an effort to do. instead of trying to save half of a second by leaning into my turn and barreling into another person, i will turn in one place and look before i proceed.

i do try and give other people the right of way. sometimes. rarely. i am sometimes, rarely successful at yielding outside of work. thus, people who do not work with me can be mislead to believe i possess a patient and gracious disposition. as one of confucious' successors pointed out - if we saw a child about to fall into a well, we might feel anxiety and rush to save him - but only if the child was neutral regarding our interests. however, if we could in some way benefit from the child's fall or if the child was a roadblock to some gain we desperately craved, we would probably give him a good shove.* as much as i hate to admit it, based on my impulse to have, exclusively my own way, i wouldn't put it past myself to shove the kid in.

this is but one of the milder thoughts that confirms my need for a Redeemer.   

*Alan Jacobs, Original Sin

bonhoefferites

finally, finally, in an inkling-esque spirit...

there are intimate weekly gatherings consisting of beautiful wine, literary discussion and a fireplace. the gospel of Christ; the stories of His saints; ancient and modern thought weave together and cover quite effortlessly hearts exposed and chilled by falsehood. 

first read: the cost of discipleship (bonhoeffer)

bad blogger

upon glancing at s.w. kaufman's list of friend's recent posts and finding my name down at the very bottom, it hit me - i have grossly neglected my blog life. 

for the past month and a half i have been cursed with dull and tangled thoughts. assuming they would be unintelligible to the masses, i started a journal in the private sphere of Microsoft Word. 37 pages worth. 

some prevailing themes include: 

Distraction. As much as I say I like to be still and quiet, it takes me quite a while to get there. My mind is loud.

Permanence. I need to lie down and meditate on what will not shift; What is constant and true. In the end, what will not pass away? Answer: The Word of God and the souls of men.*

Understanding. I suppose there is no certainty established without seeking Him daily and resting before His throne. I try and figure things out and get answers, attempting to tie up nice, worldly bows on flawless packages before I come and rest in Him. He bids me come - in whatever circumstance, in whatever condition.

*      *      *      *

*i cannot give proper attribution, but c. metzler passed on this thought to me. 

fiesta de d & a

fiesta de d & a

i, not i

I have been driven to humility in noticing that if there is ever an unveiling of truth, an affection of my heart over the work of Christ, it is certainly not my accomplishment, but the Spirit of the Living God who has broken through and rescued a most dreadful and obstinate will.

the restaurant.6

Bandera Guest: Excuse me, is this the year of the ox?

Lexie: Excuse me?

Bandera Guest: Is this the year of the ox? You're asian, aren't you?

Lexie: Uh, yes.

Bandera Guest: (astonished) And you don't know if this is the year of the ox?

Lexie: (irritated)...No, but maybe I can find that out for you.

*     *     *     *     *

a few minutes later, at another table...Lexie is addressing a table of 8 people sitting in a booth designed for 6.

Lexie: Usually we split up a party this large between two tables so you will be more comfortable.

Bandera Guest #2: I don't want to hear this. I wouldn't be here if we had to sit at separate tables. 

Lexie: I was just extending the offer.

Bandera Guest #2: You're from the far east. We're from the middle east. We like it like this.

*     *     *     *     *

15 minutes later at the same table...

Bandera Guest #2: What is that small country south of China?

Lexie: (confused) I'm not sure. (Eyes Mark, who travels frequently. to him) Do you know of a small country south of China?

Mark: No.

Bandera Guest #2: No, you should know this, you're Chinese.

living with surprise

Yesterday I grumbled a bit, silently, because an event that I had been long anticipating was postponed and the night was left empty. Something I now realize about myself is that I don't much enjoy being plan-less. Oh, I enjoy spontaneity, but only if I have before hand blocked out a time to be spontaneous.

So what happened? A good, I-only-see-you-every-few-months-or-so-but-time-with-you-is-always-rad-friend came over and the night ended up being exceptionally fun.

Once again, God delivered to the disgruntled kid who didn't get her original plan a most delightful time of fellowship, music (guitar lesson included) and tea!

clumsy imaginings

We are two novice adventurers
Trekking through a fantastic country,
Slashing at brush with yellow,
Fisher-price swords.

As we go, I bid you friend,
Paint me a story with clever words
Make it unreasonable and grand.

Consider me, the disheveled girl in rags,
A princess of grace
Who dances, unharmed
Through millions of arrows
Pouring from a merciless sky.

Consider yourself, the soft-spoken boy
Of mysterious glances,
A bold and forthright guide,
With whom I dare to scale terrific walls and
Survey the land from extravagant heights.

I skip across lop-sided ground.
At me you wink knowingly,
While tossing my way some spontaneous, affable wit.
I catch it effortlessly,
And laugh - all the way to waking.

the line i can't shake

When M. preached this past Sunday, he made a statement that reminded me of the great moments in the theatre when you witness the long-awaited honesty from actors who have given up trying to impress the house- and then those untouchable actors turn into humans and everyone at last exhales.

This was the statement:

I've been a Christian almost my whole life… I just can't get over Jesus.

This was my layman's response:

How beautiful it is to see a man in love. In love, not with an idea, but with a person…
to the abandonment (at least for a series of moments) of all other pursuers vying for his attention; indeed they can wield the cleverest of seductions.

When this man speaks it is simple and profound, for his speech is not a mere declaration of right words hurled into the air, scattering where they may, but rather a testimony lived and breathed, taken in and exhaled from the seat of the soul and like an arrow from Legolas' bow is shot with great precision into resounding center of the listener’s heart.

work harder, rest less, make your dreams come true

The city's holiday is over and it is once again picking up a frantically urgent and quietly desperate pace, although the mouths of the Angeleno proud will scarcely admit to saying it like that. I’m ambitious, I'm driven, I'm striving to be a better me would be the audible vernacular I would expect. It seems that most people in this city (including myself when I forget all that Christ has said and done) are in hot pursuit of some sort of accomplishment that will proclaim to our hearts that we are okay; that we are indeed human beings and not merely pawns of less than favorable circumstances.

To this thought I respond:

Bow before and worship your work and in the end it will roar triumphantly as the years of its silent abuse finally culminate in a noisy and victorious slaughter. You will know then you have always been a slave.

Happy New Year!