Thursday, February 28, 2008

Sorry (but not really)

I have found myself apologizing a lot lately. I think that women do this quite frequently. I read in a book or heard someone say that its like women are apologizing for taking up space, apologizing for existing.

The truth is, I'm not sorry. I am just saying it so that I won't seem like a bitch. It is my way of saying 'I am self aware enough to know that this is a bit harsh, might make you uncomfortable, might not be the 'appropriate' thing to say, might inconvenience you.' That is too much to say so all that comes out is "I'm sorry . . . but".

Here are some things I am not sorry for

1. Having a strong opinion on most everything. If you have a good argument I might be swayed, but most of the time if I'm getting that heated about something, I have spent some time thinking about it.

2. Being angry. I was angry a lot last week during Violence Against Women Awareness Week. I was angry at the ways that I feel like people pay lip service to caring about our cause, but then don't show up when I feel like it counts. I could write a lot here about women and anger, but I think I'll save that for another uplifting post.

3. Asking you to do something for me. I can't think of a specific instance, but I feel like anytime I need to ask someone to do me a favor or help me out, I have to apologize. Maybe sometimes I feel genuine, but most of the time it is because I don't want people to think I am taking advantage of them.

4. Swearing, cussing, dropping the 'f'' bomb, what have you. The truth is, if I really felt bad, I wouldn't do it.

I have a very strong urge here to disclaim all of these things in an attempt to appear more balanced, but I think I'm going to practice what I'm preaching and let them be.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Reasons I would move to Europe

1. If John McCain is the next president of the United States

2. If universal healthcare doesn't happen

3. If there isn't more maternal/paternal leave

4. If Roe v. Wade is overturned (I know it will be a shock for some people to read this, but don't worry its ok and we can talk about it).

5. This last one might not cause me to leave, but I will highly consider protesting if the super delegates vote actually determines who the democratic nominee is.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Tonight . . .

I met the most attractive, sweetest barista in all of Seattle at Cafe Fiore. I almost gave him my phone number, something I very rarely have the desire to do.

I took a bath and got out with gobs of conditioner left in my hair . . . it really is a gift to be this absent minded ALL THE TIME.

I drove the wrong way up a one way because I was sure no one would come down the hill. If a bright green taxi didn't appear out of nowhere and if one of my old supervisors wasn't driving on the side street observing the whole shinanigan, it would have been a perfect plan.
(sidenote: the only reason I had to take this diversion was because there were about 15 people sprinting up the large hill by my apt., it was weird).

Someone actually protested our Violence Against Women Awareness Week. With a sign that said "being pro-man does not mean being anti-woman".
A. What does that even mean?
B. duh

I had the most delicious ice cream as a gift from my roommate for doing a little babysitting for her this weekend. French Vanilla Lavender . . . yum! Come over and I might share it with you.

I shaved my legs and painted my toe nails. This made me feel much better after an intense evening with VAWA. I know that I probably should have prayed or written in a journal or something deep like that, but the pampering did the trick and I just needed to turn off my brain for a bit.

Now. . . I am going to sleep instead of doing my World Religions homework that is over a week late.

Monday, February 18, 2008


You know those moments when it feels like you catch a glimpse of the way things were supposed to be. Moments where you know that in the midst of pain and destruction there is beauty and resurrection. Here are some of those moments that have happened to me this weekend.

Spending time on Orcas island surrounded by water, tress, and hills, instead of people, buildings, and busyness. It was a breathtaking day and a reminder that in the midst of a world that feels broken and wounded we have a God that desires peace and wonder for creation.

(sidenote: I found myself wanting to move to a cottage on a farm, growing my own food, sewing all day long, and raising cute little hippie children. For those of you know that me, very few parts of this fantasy would even be possible).

Spending time with the 'Sophia"women preparing for Violence Against Women Awareness Week. We know that this upcoming week might be hard, but we know it is important and there is deep care for each other. When it gets hard and we don't know if this is a fight worth fighting one of us is there to remind the others of the beauty in fighting for justice and creating a space where there is a voice for the voiceless.

Having Cline tell me a story about her friends and their two mommies. It was wonderful to see her innocence. She wasn't swayed by the our 'grown up' ideas of what a family is 'supposed' to look like. She just knew that her friends had two mommies and those women provided care and nurture for her friends, just like her mommy and daddy.

There is more, but I think I'll stop there for now.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Debbie Downer

I've been thinking about sadness. It's something I've been feeling a bit lately. I don't really like to be sad around people. It makes me feel like I'm being needy, also something I don't like to feel very often.
Maybe the sadness is because of this lent season. This time where we understand that we fill our lives with much to distract us from the One. When we see that our humanity is flawed and wounded and in need of the Redeemer.
Maybe it is because of my Hunger class that leaves me feeling burdened and saddened by the immense suffering around the world and even in my city. I feel paralyzed by the injustice. I feel stuck in systems that promote my indulgence at the cost of other's lives. I know that I should take hope in knowing that I serve a good God, but most days that doesn't really seem to be a good enough answer.
Maybe it is because I have dear friends that are moving into new seasons in their lives that I won't be able to fully understand. I am confident about where they are going and share in their joy, but there is a bit of sadness knowing that things won't really be the same. They will still be good, but just different.
There are of course wonderful things happening in my life, but for right now I think I will just let the sadness part be. Sometimes we just need to be sad and let that be ok. And sometimes we have to care about things enough to allow them to make us sad.

Maybe I'll write about the good things tomorrow

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Suffering, the real kind, not the 'Im stressed about finals' kind

I am taking a class called "Sociology of Hunger." Every week we talk about issues that render me silent, which is a very unusual phenomenon. There were a couple of thoughts from our last class that I think are worth sharing and maybe elaborating on when I don't need to go to bed in 20 min. (yes, I have to set bedtimes for myself so I can be a functioning human being).

We began class by addressing the always frustrating conversation of where God is in suffering. I have a hard time discussing this in a group of people of privlidge because any answer we come up with really seems to serve the purpose of helping us sleep better at night. My professor was saying that most people who would say they are not Christians would say so because God's followers seem to be hypocrites and how can a loving sovereign God allow such suffering? He said some things that I think are beautiful and don't attempt to make really shitty things 'ok'.

He said "If we don't show love in the midst of suffering than it is reasonable to expect that people will think God does not act on suffering."

After class I was discussing this with a friend and we talked about the value in a ministry of presence, something we had talked about in class. What if the only answer we have to those in suffering is "I don't know. . . I don't know why this is happening to you, but I do know that I want to be here, I want to be here to bare the image of a God who weeps in your suffering."

This sort of 'ministry' does not excuse me from my responsibilities to live a life of justice, a life where I try to understand the oppressive systems I may take part in and try to change them. It simply provides a place where I can show love in the midst of suffering.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Oh the dreams you will dream

Last night I had two very vivid dreams that I feel are worth sharing

My first dream was one I have dreamed before. I am in a room and I am about to get married. This would seem wonderful except for the fact that I typically don't know the person I am about to marry and I have great hesitation about it. In this particular dream I was in kind of a dark room with only a few other people and they were asking me if I was excited. All I could say was "yeah, I would be if I knew the guy." I had also done no planning for this event and I was wearing a dress I don't think I had even picked out (I was having a very good hair day though). I remember thinking "I guess you can live with anyone forever", but I had this sinking feeling that it just wasn't right and was a HUGE compromise/disappointment. I have had this dream at least a half dozen times where I am getting married and I don't know the person, or don't know them well, and the whole event is just kind of thrown together, and the dream always ends before the actual ceremony. what does this mean?

My second dream probably happened because of a conversation I had had with my dad earlier last night. Basically what happened is that I was in a church and they were saying something about abortion clinics and some sort of plan to go and stop them. In my dream I was so upset and I rather strongly told the people in the congregation that to go and confront a woman in such a vulnerable time would be in no way showing them the face of Christ. The part that was weird though was that my chest got very tight and I could hardly breath. It was weird.