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