This is a fitting story after the last post, because this is truly what
"keeps me from going under"
In Bible Study on Wednesdays, we've been talking about the life of Joseph
and are just starting into Exodus. It is incredible how into the stories the
girls are. It's fun to interact or watch their faces as they start to connect
the dots or anticipate what will happen next for better or for worse. Some of
the girls are hearing these stories for the first time and they are so alive to
know what the next week's story will bring. (Well, most of the time they
are...sometimes I talk too much and they just wanna get out of there). God is
so genius with His ability to tell stories that capture the hearts of people
everywhere, for all time…It leaves me in awe of the living Word, the Word
became flesh.
After the lesson, we usually talk about prayer requests and then I pray.
Sometimes I ask if the girls want to pray instead, but don’t seem to get any
volunteers. Last week though Yakira volunteered and when she prayed, my eyes
were misty. It was also totally humbling because she prayed formatted how I
usually do… opening with “God, thanks for letting us be together here tonight”,
going around and praying for each girl and then closing with “Thanks for
hearing and answering our prayers. We love you. Amen” I’m sure she hears others
pray also, but I never realized that every week when I prayed with them that I
am modeling what talking to God sounds like. I loved hearing her talk to God
about real stuff and know that He heard, that He saw, that He cared about her
and our group.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
"It's like a jungle sometimes..."
Don't push me, cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to loose my head
It's like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder
How I keep from going under
"The Message"
I was introduced to this Grandmaster Flash song by my upstairs neighbor, Malissa who is in Urban Planning. I won't put up all the lyrics, but it's worth a read over (or listen) if you are interested. Kinda sums up some of how I feel in this crazy city pinched between cultures.
Sometimes it makes me wonder...
How I can be standing on the el platform in my neighborhood and see a lady in the alley, crouched between 2 garbage cans peeing.
How I can be riding past in the heifer and see a bunch of teenage guys looking excited, covering their mouth and pointing like they are watching a fight. I realized they are watching a fight...between 3 birds! They are swooping and pecking, boxing one another out.
How I can be standing on the el platform downtown and a man be singing...truly belting out DIO's "Rock and Roll Children" and everyone keeps their "city face" and pretends like nothing is happening.
How I can be standing on the corner outside the "Buy & Fly" next to 2 teens smoking cigarettes and one shouting "F---- the police" as they pass, then the cops do a u-turn and drive into oncoming traffic to park at the corner where they get out and ask the kid if he's got something to say now. They ask his age, ask for ID (which he doesn't have), cuff him and put him in the back to take him home.
How can I be crossing the street after that experience ready to bust into tears and the 7 year old neighbor girl, Nyianna runs up to give me a hug and then comes with her sisters to color on my porch for awhile.
How can I be steady listening to these sweetest girls tell me how mean the kids at school are to them for having worn out clothes.
I'm trying not to loose my head
It's like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder
How I keep from going under
"The Message"
I was introduced to this Grandmaster Flash song by my upstairs neighbor, Malissa who is in Urban Planning. I won't put up all the lyrics, but it's worth a read over (or listen) if you are interested. Kinda sums up some of how I feel in this crazy city pinched between cultures.
Sometimes it makes me wonder...
How I can be standing on the el platform in my neighborhood and see a lady in the alley, crouched between 2 garbage cans peeing.
How I can be riding past in the heifer and see a bunch of teenage guys looking excited, covering their mouth and pointing like they are watching a fight. I realized they are watching a fight...between 3 birds! They are swooping and pecking, boxing one another out.
How I can be standing on the el platform downtown and a man be singing...truly belting out DIO's "Rock and Roll Children" and everyone keeps their "city face" and pretends like nothing is happening.
How I can be standing on the corner outside the "Buy & Fly" next to 2 teens smoking cigarettes and one shouting "F---- the police" as they pass, then the cops do a u-turn and drive into oncoming traffic to park at the corner where they get out and ask the kid if he's got something to say now. They ask his age, ask for ID (which he doesn't have), cuff him and put him in the back to take him home.
How can I be crossing the street after that experience ready to bust into tears and the 7 year old neighbor girl, Nyianna runs up to give me a hug and then comes with her sisters to color on my porch for awhile.
How can I be steady listening to these sweetest girls tell me how mean the kids at school are to them for having worn out clothes.
...how I keep from going under.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
On Friday, I had the day off from work. Laying in my bed, I heard the noise of garbage trucks and weed wackers and wondered if that happened every Friday and I was never there to hear it or if something was going on. Something was going on.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday there were multiple cops on our block at all times. They were pulling people over to check ID's and enforcing the permit parking on the block.The neighborhood had a strange vibe... there was excitement and caution. (I don't remeber feeling such opposite things coexisting since India).
There is an excitement that the violence in the neighborhood will decrease, that drug traffic will not hold the neighborhood hostage, that people can just enjoy spending time outside with their neighbors. Those are things that I feel as well and am thankful for. It is nice to hear the older crowd on the block say that this is the way it used to be- the community pulling together, the streets and empty lots cleaned up and the drug sales somewhere else.
There is also a caution that the same policing that benefits our neighborhood may also be a burden, that the constant patrolling breaks the spirit of those not doing anything wrong, that the ticketing catches people without mallicious intent. It's hard to hear my neighbors (that I like to think I have become friends with) concerned for their husbands or 13 year olds to walk around the block without their ID's, to have their parenting questioned by strangers and to wonder if the reason all this is happening is because of upcoming elections instead of concern for saftey. Those polar realities look like something of an internal gymnastic championship in my brain.
On the one hand, I feel guilty that I am not being watched with such scrutiny as the black men on my block, that I haven't experienced the same fear my neighbor has about her son being mis-labeled, that I don't know the families who are hurting from these arrests. Does that make me one of "them"?
On the other hand, I feel guilty that I question the motives of those at the press conference, that I scoff at people coming to "help" our neghborhood, that I am angry about laws being enforced and at my perceptions of the men risking their lives to protect me and my neighbors. Does that make me one of "them"?
I wish that every drug dealer or gangster could be categorized as good or bad. And yet, if I know that would be an injustice. In the same way, I wish that every policy or police officer or politician could be categorized as good or bad. And yet if I settle on that, I feel I have done them the same injustice that I feel has happened to the young men arrested on Thursday.
Justice feels hard to truly achieve. It probably is unrealistic to expect the system to be more restorative than punative. We don't have the staffing to assess every peron's situation and we don't have the funding to run effective individualized rehabilitation programs. But I wonder if we have the resources to manage a generation of ex-convicts unable to get jobs, disconnected from the social/educational resources of their peers, with no vision of anything different. I'm willing to recant on this if I learn and grow differently, but it just seems like the resources are misplaced. I'm sure these ideas are not new, but I feel them acutely now.
Regardless of the dissonace I feel about the political issues, it cements my devotion to youth who are figuring out what their role is in the world. It makes me believe that Dreamer and Yakira can change their generation and in doing so, the world. It makes my heart cry out desperate prayers for the Spirit of the Living God to move in North Lawndale. It wells up a hope that things will not always be undone... He is coming to make all things new.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday there were multiple cops on our block at all times. They were pulling people over to check ID's and enforcing the permit parking on the block.The neighborhood had a strange vibe... there was excitement and caution. (I don't remeber feeling such opposite things coexisting since India).
There is an excitement that the violence in the neighborhood will decrease, that drug traffic will not hold the neighborhood hostage, that people can just enjoy spending time outside with their neighbors. Those are things that I feel as well and am thankful for. It is nice to hear the older crowd on the block say that this is the way it used to be- the community pulling together, the streets and empty lots cleaned up and the drug sales somewhere else.
There is also a caution that the same policing that benefits our neighborhood may also be a burden, that the constant patrolling breaks the spirit of those not doing anything wrong, that the ticketing catches people without mallicious intent. It's hard to hear my neighbors (that I like to think I have become friends with) concerned for their husbands or 13 year olds to walk around the block without their ID's, to have their parenting questioned by strangers and to wonder if the reason all this is happening is because of upcoming elections instead of concern for saftey. Those polar realities look like something of an internal gymnastic championship in my brain.
On the one hand, I feel guilty that I am not being watched with such scrutiny as the black men on my block, that I haven't experienced the same fear my neighbor has about her son being mis-labeled, that I don't know the families who are hurting from these arrests. Does that make me one of "them"?
On the other hand, I feel guilty that I question the motives of those at the press conference, that I scoff at people coming to "help" our neghborhood, that I am angry about laws being enforced and at my perceptions of the men risking their lives to protect me and my neighbors. Does that make me one of "them"?
I wish that every drug dealer or gangster could be categorized as good or bad. And yet, if I know that would be an injustice. In the same way, I wish that every policy or police officer or politician could be categorized as good or bad. And yet if I settle on that, I feel I have done them the same injustice that I feel has happened to the young men arrested on Thursday.
Justice feels hard to truly achieve. It probably is unrealistic to expect the system to be more restorative than punative. We don't have the staffing to assess every peron's situation and we don't have the funding to run effective individualized rehabilitation programs. But I wonder if we have the resources to manage a generation of ex-convicts unable to get jobs, disconnected from the social/educational resources of their peers, with no vision of anything different. I'm willing to recant on this if I learn and grow differently, but it just seems like the resources are misplaced. I'm sure these ideas are not new, but I feel them acutely now.
Regardless of the dissonace I feel about the political issues, it cements my devotion to youth who are figuring out what their role is in the world. It makes me believe that Dreamer and Yakira can change their generation and in doing so, the world. It makes my heart cry out desperate prayers for the Spirit of the Living God to move in North Lawndale. It wells up a hope that things will not always be undone... He is coming to make all things new.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Do you need some money?
When I rounded the corner on my way home Wednesday night there was a "welcoming committee". There were a couple men leaning on their car parked in front of my house. Judging from the way they were acting toward the ladies standing near them, the bottles they were holding onto were pretty empty.
One of the men called out to me- "Do you need any money?" When I turned to answer, he had pulled a WAD of cash out of his pocket and was waving it at me. "Are $100 bills OK? That's all I got." I smiled; this was a line I had not heard before!
He held out his hand and introduced himself as Ozzy, a relative of my neighbor across the street. I also introduced myself and then kept moving toward my porch. He asked how old I was...then tried to convince me that he was 35 and since that was pretty near to 26, we should go out some time. (This smooth operator was definitely not younger than 50 though, folks! :) For some puzzling reason I am a wild success in this age group.)
I went in the house, grabbed some dinner and headed back out the door to pick up girls for Bible Study. Ozzy was still out front. He pulled out his money again and questioned if I needed any. He told me he had a good job "building shit" for a living and he had plenty to share with me as long as I was OK with $100's.
One of the men called out to me- "Do you need any money?" When I turned to answer, he had pulled a WAD of cash out of his pocket and was waving it at me. "Are $100 bills OK? That's all I got." I smiled; this was a line I had not heard before!
He held out his hand and introduced himself as Ozzy, a relative of my neighbor across the street. I also introduced myself and then kept moving toward my porch. He asked how old I was...then tried to convince me that he was 35 and since that was pretty near to 26, we should go out some time. (This smooth operator was definitely not younger than 50 though, folks! :) For some puzzling reason I am a wild success in this age group.)
I went in the house, grabbed some dinner and headed back out the door to pick up girls for Bible Study. Ozzy was still out front. He pulled out his money again and questioned if I needed any. He told me he had a good job "building shit" for a living and he had plenty to share with me as long as I was OK with $100's.
A priceless cookie
The other day I stopped at Walgreens on my way home from work to grab a water bottle. It was so warm outside and you could tell the case had been picked all day by people trying to beat the heat. This man was looking through the glass at all of his water bottle options... hmmm. Water for $0.79 or water for $2? Tough choice, I know. I breezed passed him, grabbed the off brand and went on my way thinking I was really the bee's knees. The sun was out, I was about to be well hydrated and all seemed right with the world.
BUT THEN as I was standing on the el platform at Washington and Wells waiting for my pink line train, I suddenly had to "use it" with terrifying urgency. At first I was annoyed and tried to stand there in the vain hope that seeing the train would solve the problem. But standing there all I had was a flashback of me at age 12 at a family reunion. I was sporting my raggedy ann collouts and matching scrunchy; white canvas tie up shoes with brightly colored cuffed socks...you know...AWESOMENESS! I had the same feeling in my bowels then and ignored it to help my Aunt Judy spread out a picnic blanket. That story ended with me wrapped up in a trash bag in my parents minivan on the way to my granparents to launder those cool threads I was wearing. Total most embarrassing moment ever. And as I ran down the steps of the train station I was praying not to have an encore of it.
I found a Starbucks within a block and inside made a beeline for the bathroom. crisis averted! sighs of relief and gratefulness and crowds cheering and angels singing... you get the idea.
On the way out I noticed the manager looking sternly at her staff and assumed she was upset they let me use the bathroom even though I didn't buy anything. (Typing that out made me realize it's improbable that was the reason. haha. In my relief I guess I totally presumed that) So I approached the case looking for the cheapest thing I could buy and settled on a cookie. I was glad I went the economical route for the water because this cookie was no bargain. It's the best $2 I ever spent though! Buying an overpriced oatmeal raisin cookie to avoid pooping your pants in public at age 26 while miles away from home = priceless.
BUT THEN as I was standing on the el platform at Washington and Wells waiting for my pink line train, I suddenly had to "use it" with terrifying urgency. At first I was annoyed and tried to stand there in the vain hope that seeing the train would solve the problem. But standing there all I had was a flashback of me at age 12 at a family reunion. I was sporting my raggedy ann collouts and matching scrunchy; white canvas tie up shoes with brightly colored cuffed socks...you know...AWESOMENESS! I had the same feeling in my bowels then and ignored it to help my Aunt Judy spread out a picnic blanket. That story ended with me wrapped up in a trash bag in my parents minivan on the way to my granparents to launder those cool threads I was wearing. Total most embarrassing moment ever. And as I ran down the steps of the train station I was praying not to have an encore of it.
I found a Starbucks within a block and inside made a beeline for the bathroom. crisis averted! sighs of relief and gratefulness and crowds cheering and angels singing... you get the idea.
On the way out I noticed the manager looking sternly at her staff and assumed she was upset they let me use the bathroom even though I didn't buy anything. (Typing that out made me realize it's improbable that was the reason. haha. In my relief I guess I totally presumed that) So I approached the case looking for the cheapest thing I could buy and settled on a cookie. I was glad I went the economical route for the water because this cookie was no bargain. It's the best $2 I ever spent though! Buying an overpriced oatmeal raisin cookie to avoid pooping your pants in public at age 26 while miles away from home = priceless.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Vocab Words
Remember the show, Recess? It’s one of the only cartoon shows I will admit to enjoying. (I’m also pretty fond of Arthur the Aardvark) TJ Detwhiler makes up the word “Whomps” partially because he’s cool and partially because he can’t get in trouble for the meaning of a made up word. Anyway, it totally made me laugh and made me think of it when I heard these new vocab words recently.
TTU: Too Turned Up
One Wednesday, the girls and I are in the Heifer and the answer to every question was “TTU”. How was school? TTU How was your weekend? TTU How about Taco Bell for dinner? TTU You get the idea!:)
So Happenly... : The new form of “It so happened”
On the way home from Taco Bell, the girls were telling stories and one of them kept starting with “So happenly”. It has a nice ring to it right? I think will start using it.
Clutch: Means to come through under pressure in an important moment
My AZ friends say this all the time.I think basketball people might say this too. Urbandictionary.com says that the term is “derived from the clutch mechanism in a manual car, where perfect timing can mean the difference between a launch and a stall”.
B-boy: Short for “break-boy” refers to guys who break dance
A few weeks ago I went to a winter block party at The Metro with my neighbors. Their friend Joseph “Sentrock” was in town from AZ and got to jump into the b-boy competition. It was pretty great to see so much culture and art and strength in these guys (and girls)! Not my scene at all, but I loved it and secretly felt like I was in Step Up 3. :)
Cipher: It’s b-boys freestyling- no formal competition
Just learned the correct spelling of this one now… Was totally searching for “sypher”…Oh well!
That’s all I got for now, but I’m sure there will be more to come. You could try out one of these words this week or make up your own. :) Please comment any original words… I would love to start using them!
Friday, February 3, 2012
Grieving Outsider/Insider
When I got home from work on Wednesday, there were cops everywhere and looking through the windows of parked cars with their flashlights and a tow truck picking up a van. I didn't know what happened, but I knew it was something bad. I later found out that a man had been shot and killed just across the corner of 19th and Troy.
I felt a particular grief that I live so close to the place this violence happened. A violence that not only took this man's life but also left families and friends who knew him (grew up with him) grieving. Those people are my neighbors that I say hi to in passing, wait for the el with, care about and pray for, but I don't really know them...I didn't know Johnny Henderson.
I wanted to express my solidarity with my neighbors- that this was our community's grief. At the same time though, I felt like I didn't have a right to grieve for someone I didn't know, whose life didn't intersect with mine, whose experiences didn't come from the same world. I didn't want to disrespect their deep grief by pretending I was going through the same thing- because I'm not. I also didn't want to disrespect my commitment to this place by pretending it did not affect me- because it does.
So I bought a cheesecake and walked down the block to the memorial that had been set up. There were red heart balloons and a poster board of pictures around the tree; candles and empty liquor bottles at the base of it. I offered my condolences and prayers for the family and my cheesecake. I offered to pray with a couple people, but no one took me up on it. I talked with a couple guys about their friendship with Johnny and the things that cause this kind of thing in our neighborhood. And then I left.
What does it really look like to be a caring neighbor? To be a part of a community different from the one you grew up in? How can I have any kind of relationship or make any kind of difference in the lives of these men who are aching to prove themselves? How can I demonstrate light and hope and truth? How do I remain open when all I want to do is hide from this ugly reality?
Silly as that cheesecake was, I didn't know how else to express my sadness and love for my neighbors. I didn't know how else to offer my presence and with it the hope of Jesus. I wish I would have wrote a card or Bible verse or something too, but I didn't really think of that until after the fact. I feel so small and insignificant in the midst of so many layers of pain and brokenness, but I serve a God who is more than able to do more than I can ask or think, who is enough to fill this deep sadness and give new life and hope to those who call on His name.
His name is above every name
His authority is limitless
His holiness is supreme
His love is immeasurable
His wisdom is infinite
His strength is unmatched
His truth is powerful
His healing is complete
His victory over sin and death is sure
I invite His presence here...to Chicago, to Lawndale, to 19 & Troy....
And look forward to the day when our faith shall be made sight!
I felt a particular grief that I live so close to the place this violence happened. A violence that not only took this man's life but also left families and friends who knew him (grew up with him) grieving. Those people are my neighbors that I say hi to in passing, wait for the el with, care about and pray for, but I don't really know them...I didn't know Johnny Henderson.
I wanted to express my solidarity with my neighbors- that this was our community's grief. At the same time though, I felt like I didn't have a right to grieve for someone I didn't know, whose life didn't intersect with mine, whose experiences didn't come from the same world. I didn't want to disrespect their deep grief by pretending I was going through the same thing- because I'm not. I also didn't want to disrespect my commitment to this place by pretending it did not affect me- because it does.
So I bought a cheesecake and walked down the block to the memorial that had been set up. There were red heart balloons and a poster board of pictures around the tree; candles and empty liquor bottles at the base of it. I offered my condolences and prayers for the family and my cheesecake. I offered to pray with a couple people, but no one took me up on it. I talked with a couple guys about their friendship with Johnny and the things that cause this kind of thing in our neighborhood. And then I left.
What does it really look like to be a caring neighbor? To be a part of a community different from the one you grew up in? How can I have any kind of relationship or make any kind of difference in the lives of these men who are aching to prove themselves? How can I demonstrate light and hope and truth? How do I remain open when all I want to do is hide from this ugly reality?
Silly as that cheesecake was, I didn't know how else to express my sadness and love for my neighbors. I didn't know how else to offer my presence and with it the hope of Jesus. I wish I would have wrote a card or Bible verse or something too, but I didn't really think of that until after the fact. I feel so small and insignificant in the midst of so many layers of pain and brokenness, but I serve a God who is more than able to do more than I can ask or think, who is enough to fill this deep sadness and give new life and hope to those who call on His name.
His name is above every name
His authority is limitless
His holiness is supreme
His love is immeasurable
His wisdom is infinite
His strength is unmatched
His truth is powerful
His healing is complete
His victory over sin and death is sure
I invite His presence here...to Chicago, to Lawndale, to 19 & Troy....
And look forward to the day when our faith shall be made sight!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
LOYOLA- Fall 2012
I will be attending Loyola University in Chicago this Fall!
The more involved I become in the world of Higher Education, the more I want to know about it and how to make it better. With some encouragement from my boss especially, I applied to Loyola and was accepted. I will still be working at Moody full time and taking classes part time in the M.Ed Higher Education Program.
My hope is that this degree and future opportunities can help to bridge the gap between the two worlds I am most passionate about, under-resourced communities and college. In the future, I would love to be working in minority student affairs/multi-cultural office or in enrollment management programming for first generation college students. Maybe some other things too, but we will see how long my scholarly ambition lasts. :)
The direction I am headed now feels opposite in some ways to what I came here for. I came to Chicago for a Bible education with plans to do mission work overseas. I could have never expected how much I love the city and the westside in particular. I could never have known what deep relationships I would develop with the youth here. I could never have imagined loving my job so much or having some of these key opportunities. I could never have realized how my ideas about cross-cultural ministry and incarnational living would be made realities here in Chicago.This internal conflict over what I thought my future would be and what it has turned out to be has caused me to deeply appreciate that we are called to Christ, not to a place. It would be too easy to have guilt over what I am not doing instead of delighting in the ministry He has gifted to me.
One of my favorite missionary stories is of Mary Slessor (Run, Ma, Run). I've been thinking what an inspiration she is young and doing Bible studies in a rough part of town. I love the scene when the tough boys swing a rock in front of her face and she does not flinch. If I remember right they end of attending the study and making sure no one gives Mary any more trouble. I may not be that heroic, but I do have great hope for this place. The Spirit of God is certainly at work and I look forward to seeing how all this will turn out... Maybe a few years from now I will be writing another entry where my life takes another twist. :)
The Deli
Last night Kira and I went shopping. She's 14 and if I had left the shopping up to her we would have walked out of there with olives, cinnamon toast crunch cereal and cookies 'n' cream milk.
At the deli, I was so impressed with the man helping me because he got my Stella Provolone and Sara Lee Roast Beef to exactly .50 lb. Probably you're nodding your head thinking "that's cool" even though you wouldn't have blogged about it. My reaction was much more animated than that... I held the bags of deli meat and cheese up for Kira to see and announced with a big smile that they were exact. When she didn't show very much excitement, I tried to explain to her how difficult that was to do- to take slices of meat and add them perfectly up to .50 lb. She tried to act excited for my sake (and so we could move on to the cereal aisle), but I knew deep down that she was not. There are some things that are just thrilling to me and delis are one of them... If the large glass counter had not been between us, I would have slapped him on the back with as much enthusiasm as if he just roped a steer.
SIDE NOTE: It just popped in my head what a funny sitcom episode it would be if there was an aspiring deli man who was too short to see over the counter. oh the pain...! :) Although, I guess he could just get a step stool... hm. not as entertaining.
When Kira and I got up to the checkout counter, I noticed that the bag of cheese was missing. It was busy and the cashier had no interest in my story of lost cheese. So we paid and then retraced our steps through the store until we found it. :) That has never happened to me before... losing items from your cart while shopping!
Just now, I ate a delicious roast beef and provolone sandwich on a pretzel roll. Sadly, that means they are no longer exactly .50 lb.
At the deli, I was so impressed with the man helping me because he got my Stella Provolone and Sara Lee Roast Beef to exactly .50 lb. Probably you're nodding your head thinking "that's cool" even though you wouldn't have blogged about it. My reaction was much more animated than that... I held the bags of deli meat and cheese up for Kira to see and announced with a big smile that they were exact. When she didn't show very much excitement, I tried to explain to her how difficult that was to do- to take slices of meat and add them perfectly up to .50 lb. She tried to act excited for my sake (and so we could move on to the cereal aisle), but I knew deep down that she was not. There are some things that are just thrilling to me and delis are one of them... If the large glass counter had not been between us, I would have slapped him on the back with as much enthusiasm as if he just roped a steer.
SIDE NOTE: It just popped in my head what a funny sitcom episode it would be if there was an aspiring deli man who was too short to see over the counter. oh the pain...! :) Although, I guess he could just get a step stool... hm. not as entertaining.
When Kira and I got up to the checkout counter, I noticed that the bag of cheese was missing. It was busy and the cashier had no interest in my story of lost cheese. So we paid and then retraced our steps through the store until we found it. :) That has never happened to me before... losing items from your cart while shopping!
Just now, I ate a delicious roast beef and provolone sandwich on a pretzel roll. Sadly, that means they are no longer exactly .50 lb.
Underground Apology
To my friends & hidden fan club (only one of whom I am aware):
My deepest apologies for this drought of blog-less-ness. You can expect some stories to roll out shortly. :)
You can look forward to hearing some new vocab words I've learned, my latest adventures in breakdancing and of course a few akward moments. Love to you all!
My deepest apologies for this drought of blog-less-ness. You can expect some stories to roll out shortly. :)
You can look forward to hearing some new vocab words I've learned, my latest adventures in breakdancing and of course a few akward moments. Love to you all!
Monday, November 28, 2011
Shhhhhhhhh!
The other morning on my way to work I waited for the brown line for 15-20 minutes…When it finally arrived I boarded the train just as grumpy and annoyed as the hundreds of people waiting on the platform (I may be exaggerating about the brevity of the crowd).
The four ladies from my neighborhood behind me didn't seem to mind the delay because they had things to talk about. They talked about their business loud enough so that the whole train car could hear and not have any doubt about what these women thought about it all.
Landlord- useless
Knee pain- unbearable
Children- lazy as ever
They sat in a cluster on the outside seats, turned into a huddle in the aisle. There were some choice words peppering their commentary as well.
Sitting on the inside of one of the seats was a little thing, all of 30 and perfectly manicured. Cutting through the ladies chatter, she whipped her head around and brought her extended index finger to her pursed lips. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” For a moment, the whole car was stunned and waited to see what would happen next.
Loud Ladies: “Excuuuuuuse me! I am not your child!”
Brazen Blondie: “You’re so loud! and you’re swearing.”
Loud Ladies: “You aint never heard swearing before? I’m not at your church!” (lots of mocking and laughing between group)
Brazen Blondie:(Looks around desperately for someone to support her assertion, but everyone is wearing their ‘city face’ pretending nothing is happening) “Well, you’re not going to get very far in life swearing and being so loud!”
Loud Ladies: “Excuuuuse me! If you don’t want to hear what I’ve gotta say you can just close your ears!”
Brazen Blondie: (shakes head defiantly, points both index fingers and inserted them to her ears)
Woah! It was like a front row seat at a theatre. I did pretty well at keeping a straight face on the train, but as soon as I exited I laughed my head off the entire 2 blocks to work. It’s a comic tragedy of sorts though really. These were real women who treated each other this way in real life on their average commute (this part I did not exaggerate at all).
Sure, I get annoyed when people are talking loudly on the train. Sure, I hate it when people play their music at an inconsiderately high volume. Sure, it’d be great if everybody kept their language PG. Sure, I’d rather not hear about people’s portfolios or sex life or health problems. But Blondie, it’s public mass transit! You can’t isolate yourself from everybody else or their business on it!
It makes me sick to think that this woman decided whether these ladies would be successful in life based on nothing more than conduct on the el one morning. These women were more than 20 years her senior and probably could have given her a much more severe life lesson in that moment. That assumption about their ability to be successful in life influenced the way she treated these ladies- as children who could learn from her sterling example, rather than as women who have weathered a hell of a lot more life than her.
I know this scene has caused me to pause since and think about my own assumptions. Daily, I so desperately need the Lord to transform my mind about what it means to be valuable, successful, beautiful even. In this country, in this city and in my own heart our heart attitudes that can produce such ugliness need to be examined. Our words have the power to bring life or death…let’s choose them wisely.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Glimpse
Here's a little glimpse into what one friend has coined, my "rich inner world":
1. SPLAT! I killed a gnat buzzing around my face with my bare hands.
2. I narrated the experience (or I was talking trash to the dead gnat): "And that's why they call me fast hands Monfette!"
3. Laughed outloud at my big achievement and wondered who really calls me "Fast Hands Monfette"
1. SPLAT! I killed a gnat buzzing around my face with my bare hands.
2. I narrated the experience (or I was talking trash to the dead gnat): "And that's why they call me fast hands Monfette!"
3. Laughed outloud at my big achievement and wondered who really calls me "Fast Hands Monfette"
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Is YOU My Boo Thang?
Usually I get an education on Sundays, but this last week it was phenomenal. Raven and Mika went grocery shopping and made bananna bread with me. They taught me what a "boo thang" is and it's my favorite word this week. Love this girls and all they educate me about... :)
Thursday, October 13, 2011
My Purse
Lately my purse has been an unruly jungle of receipts and coupons; straw wrappers and sticky notes to the point I could not even find my lip gloss! It probably did not help that there were 2 books, a brush, a cell phone, a wallet and a pair of dirty socks in there taking up space in there also.
I cleaned out my purse the other night, but left the dirty socks in there. They’re bright pink, from my Mom’s sock drawer which is a collection of socks the rest of us are too self-conscious to wear. They’re dirty from going bowling while at home a couple weeks back.
I had such a fantastic time at home! I slept and played games, went bowling and to the movies, painted pumpkins and star gazed, watched fireworks and drank a lot of frozen cokes. :) It was just the balm to my body and soul that I needed. I wish Chicago and home could be closer to each other.
Coming back to Chicago, I am very much more rested and in general in a more sane place. Coming back to Chicago, I am also feeling vulnerable.I had hoped that Memphis could undo the burdens of the inner city, but it wasn’t quite that powerful. I am so small and insignificant here. While I know there are those who care about me here, everyone seems to have to rush on to the next something. Emotionally and spiritually I need someone to sit with me awhile and be persistent. I know that’s a bit needy…but whatever mess is being worked out in my heart and mind is taking its dear, sweet time and I can’t seem to help that.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Baby, baby, baby, oooooooo!
All I can say is.... there's gonna be one less lonely girl!
In case you can't make it out, it's a toothbrush that plays
2 of the Biebs best tunes....
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Ridiculous Information
This somehow made it on my list of things to share and yet it doesn’t really fit with anything else/is not really important at all. Since it is on the list though, it MUST be shared.
I just wanted to say that I signed up for the free month of HuluPlus with a .edu email so that I could watch the finale of Masterchef because they bogus-ly did not release that to the public. So then I watched a bunch of old Pysch episodes too. It turned out to be such a bonus though because I was able to watch the premiere of “New Girl” and “Parenthood” a week early. Huzzah!
The end. (I am embarrassed that this post exists.)
High School hair and other things I am learning about growing up
It’s hard to believe but most of the junior highers have become freshman now! How and when did that happen? Even though we had talked about it all summer, the transformation seemed to happen in a weeks time and take me by surprise.
The Wednesday after Labor Day all the girls came looking about 10 years older with beautiful new weaves and styles. The girls seemed to indicate it was a rite of passage of sorts- they now have “high school hair.” (In my head at one point, I may have imagined us all in old world clothing standing around a Sabbath table singing Sunrise, Sunset- thankfully just in my head!)
They seem to be adjusting well though. I’m proud of them for jumping in to a new place with boldness. I know that there are even more voices now vying for their attention and I pray God’s protection over their hearts and minds. Sometimes I forget how much is coming with them to Bible Study- a full day of the world’s pressures and lies; a whole weeks worth of observing violence and trying to stand up for themselves. It really is a miracle and gift that their hearts are tender and open to God’s Word by His Spirit.
High school is the hardest time because you are young enough to think that your decisions don’t matter that much- “you’re just a kid!” In reality though, those high school years are so formative in terms of the direction you go for the future. I had a little heart to heart with the girls about that last week…I probably sounded like a Mom to them, but I hope regardless of how relevant they thought I was or wasn’t, that they saw how much I love them.
Truly, I cannot explain what a love I have in my heart for these girls and for the Westside of Chicago. It is supernatural and I think this might be my mission field for a while.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Introducing….
My new upstairs neighbors:
Malissa, Nate, Elliot and Aldyn (plus Nelson)
They moved here from Arizona because Malissa received a scholarship at UIC to do doctoral studies in urban planning. Hopefully they will be around a while because I pretty much love them already. (When Nate quoted Arrested Development it sealed the deal!)
Malissa and I have gone for coffee and studying at the Knock Box a couple times. We like to eat and play games together like Monopoly Deal. It’s fun to hear the pitter patter of feet upstairs (especially in the morning when I need motivation to get up). Sometimes I play “Guess the Sound” with other things that go bump on the floor. 
My new roommate, Judith:
The Lord provided Judith from what I thought was a magical land because I had never heard of it before. She was born in the Faroe Islands (owned by Denmark) and cam to the states for college. She graduated from John Brown University this year and did an internship this summer in Chicago. After so much anxiety about who I would find to replace Aubrey on short notice, she moved in on September 1st and left me totally humbled at God’s providing hand. She is clean and likes to play games and loves pumpernickel bread and has great style and a cool boyfriend, Josh. She and Josh introduced me to 2 new games- Blockus and Sequence. I am no good at either… yet!
A Man in a Mexican Wrestling Mask Walks Into a Game Stop…
It reads just like the beginning a fantastic joke, but at the time it was so not funny. Jodecai and Zyleke went to Game Stop in Cicero last week so they could exchange some games for a new one. I had never even been to Game Stop so I was already getting quite an education about how these sorts of things work.
A man walks by the window. With a Mexican wrestling mask on…
I pause and ponder how strange that is.
The same man walks back by the window and into the store- still wearing his mask.
I inch toward the door motioning for the boys to come with me because my imagination has gone into overdrive about this man robbing the store, holding us hostage and my Mom hearing about it all on the evening news. The boys are too absorbed in their game selection to notice my subtle movement.
The employees tell the man that in order to shop there he has to take off the mask.
The man grunts and growls and aggressively shakes a shelf of games.
I walk back toward the boys envisioning myself heroically shielding them from bullets with my body….
The man walks out of Game Works.
Me and the boys go to Taco Bell.
Overheard
1. A sweet 19 year old Moody male student in the plaza:
“My grandma is a blessing to me!”
2. A confused and mentally disturbed man on the el at 7am:
”Oh shit! I’m on the pink line? I got on the girly line? Oh Shit! How did I get on the girly line? I can’t believe I’m riding the pink girly line! Shit!”
3. Yakira in the van on the way to Bible Study:
”Rachel treats us like we are her own kids.”
4. The neighbor girl (8 years old) on the back porch through my bedroom window: “Insert the words of a praise and worship song she was making up without knowing anyone was listening” (This is BY FAR the sweetest way to wake up on a week day!)
5. Zyleke at his baptism on Sunday:
“I know that when I mess up Jesus is always with me and will forgive me.”
6. A Moody Student headed to her dorm room:
“Going to watch Korean Dramas… I am obsessed and have to find out what happened.”
7. A text from my neighbor after telling her I would bring the pot (of Chili) upstairs for dinner:
“Bring the chili too, we might get the munchies!”
8. Me (a bit to loud) to a friend in a public area at work recounting the story of unexpectedly saying goodbye late at night to a friend moving out of state:
“I wish I was wearing more clothes right now.”
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