final benediction for Apostles

As the family of our Living God,
may you know God as absolute Father,
and yourselves as His true children and cherished posession.

Being sure of this,
my hope is that you would not hesitate
to redeem the time given to you,
viewing all things through the mirror of eternity,
holding all things loosely
that you may not miss out on the adventure of life in Christ.

My hope is that prayer would be the pulse of Apostles Church,
both the initiator and response for the amazing things that God would do.

And together, as a Community of Faith
may you strive to keep your hearts aflame, courageous, and restless
to discover new depths to the love of Christ
To keep your ears open to the wisdom of His voice,
and your wills softened to the working of His hands.

May your inmost desires, aspirations and thoughts be fixed
on how to defend life,
witness light,
and live out love without reservation.

May God do this for the purpose of your joy
and to the resounding glory of His great name. Amen!

end scene

I'm a mere 4 days away from packing up my manhattan life and trucking out to Boston. Or should I say, Bahstan with a soft a. And when I say Bahston, I really mean South Hamilton. That's where Gordon-Conwell is. I hope I'm ready for this. I know that I'm excited-and maybe this excitement has blurred the indistinguishable emotions of leaving this city and people that have become home. It could be that I'm tired of just talking about it and need to just do it. Rip it off like a band aid. I have a feeling, though, that I will get there and it will hit me. That sick feeling in your stomach that you've left your big relationships that took so long to build, the loud streets and construction that you always complain about, but over time has become comforting. You'll remember those incredible summer days that are quite nice as long as you stay above ground. The days you spent frolicking in brooklyn. You'll miss the chocolate chip pancakes at Tom's Restaurant and how much they were worth the wait in line. You'll remember the day you spent riding bikes with your friends all over Manhattan and twice over the brooklyn bridge, and how it was an August day, but it was in the 70's and beautiful. You will even miss the long rides on the A train with your roommate to the free beach at Far Rockaway and how you couldn't get enough of the fish tacos from Rockaway tacos. You'll think of your church, recalling the first time you walked into the doors to the double tree ballroom so long ago, and how you had no clue how much that day would influence the next 4 years of your life. You'll think about the people who have helped to shape you over this time, encouraged you along the way, prayed for you. It's going to be sad and difficult to start that process all over again, but you'll remember how God got you there. You'll look back on every tiny and big way he provided for you and all through the hands of His people. He's ready to do something new with you.

So, over the next few days I will prepare to rip the band aid off and flee this nest (to be so cliche). Thanks for keeping up with me as I've traveled through the ups and downs of doing life in NYC. I invite you to come along with me to Boston. Let's see where this all leads.

Benediction 3

Stand up, oh Church, shake off your fears,
Continue on the pilgrim's course,
Renounce all earthly comforts,
Which moth and rust destroy,
And girded with the Holy Spirit and the gospel-armor on,
March through the gates outside the camp,
Where our great Captain-Savior's gone.

With the cross of Christ lifted over us,
May we journey in its light,
For the crown awaits the conquest,
Lead us on Oh God of might!

Benediction from Sunday, June 13

She knows now...

Do you remember that guileless girl with the wide eyes
23 and restless for something new

the city was a planet of possibilities
unpredictable and refreshing in so many ways
a welcomed change

she didn’t know then
that the island would devour her and woo her
break her heart
and tether it on a short leash

she didn’t know

Now she sits on her hand-me-down Ikea sofa
In her loft apartment overlooking the filthy, humid street
thinking about June,

And how two and a half months remain

Go slowly, June
Her bucket list is too long
And September looms and lures

Benediction 2

As the children of God
Let the love of Christ constrain us
To love not secretly, but bravely
To be content with little, that we may give much
To be put to doing and to suffering
To be exalted, or brought low
To freely and heartily yield all things
All for the pleasure and glory of King Jesus.

Benediction from Sunday, June 6

Benediction

As we share in Christ,
Let us exhort one another while we still have today,
Confident in our faith and boasting in our hope,
Attentive to the voice of our God,
And keeping our hearts free of the deceitfulness of sin,
That we may enter the promised rest,
In the revelation and deliverance found in our Lord Jesus Christ.

Execption to the Rule

It had been two years since I last was in Monroe with my family, sharing Thanksgiving together. I’d missed them.

I got to return this year, and re-visit familiar smells, accents, and stories. It felt so good to hug my Gran and Grandaddy and tell them how much I love them. My cousins are all grown up and are at the age where they enjoy taking care of my niece and nephews the way I used to take care of them.

Cousin Ian is not a teenager anymore. He lives a train ride away from me (getting his art degree at Sarah Lawrence) and we lamented how we have to travel all the way to Monroe to actually see each other. We promised we’d make an effort to change that.

His sister Claire left nyc (and the dream of acting) a couple months ago and has been frolicking in Scotland with her grandparents, enjoying her mother’s roots. I missed her at Thanksgiving, and miss her now.

It was good to see Auntie Allison. Donning a fresh scar on the right side of her face that forms a backward 7 from the edge of her eye to mid-cheek, she brings new meaning to the term “hard-core.” Her accident with the tree and the fall that broke her thumb is not enough to keep her off the bike. She’s committed to what she loves; I like that about her.

I came across a green binder with my name on it our first night there. Inside, I found all my blog posts printed out in order. My mom told me that gran takes them with her to share with her bridge club. I nearly cried. “My gran is proud of me.”

My mom’s cousin Barbara joined us this year, adding a new twist to our family traditions. She said the reason she wanted to come was because she read my post about my last Harkey Thanksgiving . I hope it lived up to her expectations. We all enjoyed her company. She got to witness the intense scrabble and board games, the clashing of rivalries in the UT/A&M game, and community naps. In honor of tradition, Uncle Matt prepared the bonfire on the levy in which we snacked on S’mores and sang every ridiculous camp song we could think of, as loud as we could.

My favorite moment of the whole weekend by far was when the entire family circled up to pray around the living room, holding hands. Before I bowed my head, I took note of what an incredible gift this was. Twenty plus people, who love each other so much, and share a strong love for the Lord, giving thanks to Him who made them family.

I’m aware this is not the norm, and I’m so grateful we Harkeys are an exception to the rule

Caught up

Studying for my NT mid-term. I cannot help but share what I'm learning: "The trinity is like a hurricane of love where the Father, through the Spirit, pours out his love to the Son. The Son takes that and gives it all back to the Father, and the good news of the gospel is that we are caught up in that!" My heart exults in such undeserved love.

Move

Sometimes your life goes lurching forward
at an intense speed and you’re left befuddled,
wondering what just happened and just how you got there.
Nothing happens slowly in NYC.
How did I forget that?

Spontaneous decisions are reckless
and risky
and can be completely irresponsible,
but the Holy Spirit doesn’t play by the rules of the logical mind.
He likes to play the game of extreme faith,
the game that tolerates nothing but big leaps

…blindfolded.

Financial District
Here
I
Come.

Dburode

The house with the blue door
Unassuming on the hill
Enclosed in glorious bursts of green and yellow
(colors on steroids)

It boasts of history
Untold stories
Heeded only in the night
Through creaking walls
And groaning floors
Shifting in rhythms
Aligning with the wind

Inhale the air
Cool and damp
Words spoken stick to mist
Breathing it in
Like tasting something
Altogether untouched

Quiet is a sound
So pure on that hill
Interrupted only by
Salty waves
Dancing below
They speak to the house
With the blue door

And the night
So dark
The white house
Camouflaged in black
And the sky

Pierced by the
Ordered chaos of stars
They perform for bemused eyes
And cry out to their Maker
The One who holds them all in place

And the moon
Smiles in the company of the speckled light

Hot Fun in the Summertime

It appears that summer has finally decided to grace NYC with its presence. After a long season of non-stop rain, sporadic thunder storms, and chilly winds, I have finally put away the jackets and jeans and pulled out the shorts and skirts that I've been dying to wear.

I forget every winter how many people actually live in this city. The first day the sun shows its face, New Yorkers emerge from hibernation to enjoy a big brunch at a sidewalk cafe, or a game of frisbee in Central Park with friends. They are confident in the colorful, trendy summer attire they've been saving in their closets for months, just waiting for that first warm day that seemed like would never arrive. This city is alive again. The New Yorkers' demeanor has changed, we are happier, kinder to one another. We made it through a very long, hard winter, and you can feel the relief and triumph in the air.

I love walking the streets of NYC during the summer and can hardly bring myself to go underground to take the subway, so I do a lot of walking and bus riding. I want to soak up every moment I can, so I can store up for the next winter, when I will think of warmer days, and warmer people.

These new days have been spent with good friends, making priceless memories. I love Sunday afternoons in Sheep Meadow. Napping on a blanket, playing cards, and merely enjoying the company of my favorite people, describes my perfect summer scene.

Last Tuesday, several friends of mine went with me to NY Summerstage for an Explosions in the Sky concert. It was pouring down rain when we arrived which lasted through the two opening acts. The ten of us hunkered beneath a tent we made with our umbrellas, which did little to shield us from the deluge surrounding us, but we laughed hard and vowed this made the experience that much more memorable. As soon as Explosions entered the stage, the clouds parted to reveal a perfect sky. Everyone cheered.

I couldn't help but close my eyes and worship as the pure sound of guitars and drums melded together into a lilting strain that rose and fell without rest for an hour and a half. I got chills as I thought about the beauty of the Lord displayed in the musical gifts of His creation. He is the Benefactor of such gifts, and He received glory from the ten friends silently bouncing and swaying to the chords, delighting in the experience together.

Ahh, summer, welcome home...

Memorial Day

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning on Monday to the loudest noise I've ever heard in my life. I often wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding wildly, with this same thought, "it's Judgment Day," only to realize that it was a motorcycle roaring by 19 flights below, or an angry cab driver laying on his horn. This time was different. The sound was a loud crack that echoed through the streets of the upper east side. My immediate thought, after "Judgement Day," was "that was the loudest thunder crack I've ever heard. Surely the entire City will be talking about this tomorrow." I did hear multiple sirens going off, but I assumed the noise had set off every car alarm in the street. The following morning my roommate, who is an extremely deep sleeper and didn't even stir at the deafening clamor, came in from an errand to report that it wasn't a thunder clap i heard, but in fact, it was a bomb that exploded on the front stoop of our local Starbucks two blocks down. It was a homemade bomb engineered from a water bottle. Fortunately, it only shattered the windows of the Starbucks, and yet, it caused enough racket to wake up the neighborhood, at least, everyone but my heavy-sleeping roommate! Way to ring in the holiday, huh?

Feb 16, 2009

It’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I am still in my pajamas and slippers. Amos Lee is crooning in the background, contributing to this contented ambiance. Feels down-right good to have nothing to do.

I spent the morning with my roommate Angeline, lounging on my bed with Bibles open, sipping coffee and discussing the meaning behind Jesus’ words in Matthew. I love my Canadian roomie and all her intricate and challenging questions about the Word. She has only been a believer for about three years, since she started attending Apostles, and the presence of Christ radiates through her. I only hope that we will have more moments like these. It is all too easy to become co-habitators in this small apartment, when we should be co-laborers, seeking the Lord together on how we can be using our position to reach others in our building, especially the one we live with.

I’ve lived with these girls for nearly two years now. I can’t believe it’s been that long; and I still have yet to replace the pushpins holding my curtains up, with a proper curtain rod, or to purchase a real bedside lamp. Maybe subconsciously I’ve held off from completely moving in for fear that I will have permanently made NYC my home. I still have a Texas driver’s license and Austin area code, for goodness sakes. I have my freak outs, where I wake up in the middle of the night, paralyzed with the thought that I may never live near my family again, or have a front yard with grass, or the option of literal peace and quiet- all luxuries that don’t exist in and Upper East side, where thousands of people live on top of each other. According to the world’s standards, I’m certifiably insane to be living below the poverty line, when I would be enjoying the benefits of a comfortable surplus in a spacious Austin apartment. I’ll admit, I feel sick when I hear how much I’m paying for my apartment per month, compared to anywhere else in the country. However, these freak outs have become few and far between, as I’ve come to consider “home” to be wherever Jesus is. He is in the City. He loves the City. So, I’ll be right here, following so close to Him that I’ve got His dust all over me.

Winter Wonderland

This is my third winter in New York and most definitely the coldest. I went for a 5 mile run with my running club this morning and it took me two hours to defrost when I got back. Fortunately, my good friend Angela made me a deer corn bag that you just pop in the microwave for a couple minutes, and you’ve got a homemade heating pad that smells like fresh cornbread. It has kept my feet nice and toasty at night, so I’d like to give a big shout-out to Ange for the thoughtful (and useful) gift.

One perk about a colder winter is that we’ve had a lot more snow than I’ve seen in the past two. It snowed all day on MLK day and I couldn’t wait to get out in it. So, I suited up in my under armor, laced up my running shoes and headed out to Central Park, where the snow is always prettiest. I had never run in snow before. (Well, I take that back, I was insane enough to run in the Ted Corbit race right before Christmas, when it was under 20 degrees with slushy snow all over the ground. I couldn’t feel my feet at all for most of the race, so it seemed like I was hovering.) But, I’d never actually run with snow falling from the sky. It was beautiful. It felt like I had stepped out of a giant wardrobe, right smack into Narnia. The streetlamps on the side of the road helped with this image, as well. As I ran, the snowflakes clung to my eyelashes and floated into my mouth and nose, and when I ran downhill, the snowflakes seemed to pause in mid air so I could race through them as if I was in a video game. It was exhilarating for the first 4.5 miles, but then I started to get pretty wet as the snow fell harder and began to stick to the ground. I think I was a little too ambitious to try to run 6 miles in the snow, I knew I was pretty sure I could survive one more mile.

As I kicked into the last mile, my shoes starting to slosh by now, I tried to clear out my nose (because it tends to run when it’s cold), and so began one of my annoying nose bleeds. I looked down to see my sweatshirt stained with red splotches. Dangit! I slowed to a walk, plugged my nose with my glove and tried my best to look indiscrete as I meandered through the tourists and joggers with my head down. I was bleeding so much, though, that I had no choice but to bend down and clean my gloves off in the snow. To put it bluntly, it looked like I’d committed a serious crime. After several minutes, the bleeding finally quit and I was able to jog the rest of the way home, but not without receiving some concerned/disgusted stares. I was a sight to behold, wet, bloody, and frozen to the bone. So, what initially began as a magical winter wonderland run, ended up looking more like a crime scene from CSI.

Supply & Demand

It has come to my attention that there are select people who actually read this blog of mine and follow it. I'll admit, I'm flattered with this new awareness of demand, but a little nervous. I have found that it is easy to be open and vulnerable when posting articles about my life, while forgetting that it is conveniently accessible to the inexhaustible internet public. I'm not saying that I will proceed with caution, but with a more acute sense that I have an audience. I hate to disappoint, so I will endeavor to be more consistent with my posts. With that said, I should probably make a few disclaimers. I only pretend (and dream) to be a writer, so please don't expect any masterpieces like the great Andrew Shepherd, but in the case that I somehow produce something publish-worthy, I will soon be creating a copyright page and hopefully ward off any crazies that would want to steal my shoddy posts or pictures. Also, know that everything I post is an impulsive emanation from some sort of obligatory muse that appears at the most unexpected moments, so don't expect congruency. But, if you've been keeping up with this so-called "blog," then you know that. You must also take into account that I am a word-nerd. I love words. I may not know many, but I like to try to use new ones when possible. The English language is a lost art that I want to honor and hopefully contribute to. Please don't hesitate to let me know if I misuse any. I want to be an candid word-user.

I think this about sums it up. Thank you for reading my blog. I simply hope that it amuses you. I'm going to try not to take myself too seriously, and then maybe I would write updates more often. Time will tell...

Run, Julia, Run!

I have to memorialize this day because I may never see one like it again. It’s August now, which is supposed to be the hottest month of the year in NYC. But, the high today is 79. The sun is out; there are just enough puffy clouds in the sky, and the perfect breeze. I could not wait to get outside this morning and I can’t stop gushing about how magnificent a day it is and how grateful I am to be living in it.

To my surprise, and I’m sure, many of yours, I have become a runner. I’m not sure exactly when this title became appropriate for me. Maybe it was last Halloween when I ran 6 miles for the first time. Or it could have been when I got my first set of Under Armour gear to brave the winter months. It quite possibly might have been when I started training for a half marathon that I never got to do. I don’t really care when it happened; I just care about the fact that my legs move fast enough to do it, and that I actually enjoy it. Over the course of my short running history, I have gained a tremendous appreciation for the sport/discipline. For one thing, it’s free exercise. Seemed like the best alternative when I no longer could afford a gym membership. Now, I would never go back. I’m spoiled by the outdoors and cringe at the thought of jogging on moving rubber that takes me nowhere.

I live a mere 4 avenues from Central Park, a place that has become a sanctuary for me; I think of it fondly, like a friend. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I’m certain many New Yorkers feel the same way. It’s one of the few places to escape from the frantic noise and hustle of the City. You have to know just the right times to go, though, and the right areas to avoid if you want to steer clear of meandering, camera-happy tourists. Once you’ve got that down, the park becomes yours.

I’ve learned to appreciate the variety that the park has to offer. You can run around the entire park, which is 6 miles, or you can break it off into 5 or 4 miles, depending on your mood or whether you feel like you have the strength to take on the Great Hill. For a shorter, flatter loop, I head to the reservoir, which is 1 and half miles around. It’s completely manmade, but absolutely beautiful. The perfect time to run there is at sunset, when the sun is low enough to create a shadow of the buildings on the water.

Running has also provided an excellent outlet for fellowship. I often run with a running group started by women in my church. We run the reservoir on Monday nights and then head back to one of our apartments to cook dinner. The group has become more missional over time as we meet fellow runners in our workplaces.

Lately, the Lord has been urging me to get out and meet more New Yorkers. Working in ministry, I fear becoming too comfortable in my church community that I forget how to be a light of the world, a city on a hill. We’ve been going through the book of Colossians in our Worship Services and Community Groups, and discussing what it means to be subversive in our deteriorating society that easily lures us into pledging allegiance to the fleeting pleasures of the American Dream. As I’ve been praying about what it looks like to be subversive in my life in the City (which is interesting, considering I’m still trying to figure out who I am in this City), it all boils down to speed.

The speed of New York is 100 miles an hour, and it never lets up. It’s an “every man for himself” kind of world. I hate to say that over time I've become hardened to it. I find myself thinking, “Am I going to make it through the turnstile in time to get on the train if I help this woman carry her stroller down the subway steps?” and “this guy in front of me is walking so slow, doesn’t he know people are in a hurry?” I’m tired of being in such a hurry that I forget that I’m surrounded by people of all nationalities and languages, whom God has created in His image, and loves. The Lord has called me to be subversive by slowing down, by being an inch worm in a swarm of centipedes. I’m determined to get out and spend time with people, and there’s no better way that I can think of doing that, then to meet people in their sanctuary, Central Park.

There is a store a few blocks from my apartment called the Super Runner Store. Just walking into this place makes you feel super cool. They have a running club that meets on Saturday and Sunday mornings and if you run ten runs with them (and you don’t even have to finish with them), you get a free pair of running shoes of your choice. Talk about a deal! Although that’s a great perk, I knew it was also the way for me to meet some other runners. I finally mustered the courage to give it a shot this morning. I’d say about 15 people came. We ended up dispersing into a few groups depending on pace and distance. I ran with a group of 5, and had such a blast talking with them and hearing about what they do and where they’re from. The amazing uncharacteristic weather had us all in a peppy mood, so the 6 miles just flew by! When we finished, we agreed that we made a good little group and should run together more often, so we high-fived and traded email addresses. I was in such a good mood after that, and so overwhelmed by the gift of such an awesome day, that I felt like I could keep running forever. Well, I didn’t run forever, but I opted for 3 more miles. That means that this day makes history for another reason, I’ve never run that far before.

carry

carry me away
that I may disappear
even if just for a moment
into the blissful beauty of
the Things that are to come

give me a glimpse of the Surety
and let Him fix His eyes
even if just for a moment
on my broken heart
still mending its way to full

fill my lungs
that I may breathe easy
even if just for a moment
with the sweet Air that satisfies
from Your words exhaled

tell me one small secret
that only angels know
even if just for a moment
a tiny Mystery revealed
to add to the vast yet untold

clothe me in your Color
an indescribable shade of You
even if just for a moment
my temple arrayed
in this resplendent Love

then carry me back
that I may patiently endure
for I hope is just a moment
till time is complete
and Forever can begin

julia

west side extraveganza

today my girlfriends and i decided to seize every minute of the day off from work, so we ventured to the west side for an early 9am breakfast of bagels and coffee. h&h bagels, supposedly the "best bagels" in nyc. that's debatable.

for one thing, when i asked the cashier for an everything bagel with egg and cheese, she responded,

"we don't do dat."

so, i said, "ok. how about a cinnamon-raisin bagel with plain cream cheese?"

"you getcha own tub'a cream cheese from da fridge ova daya."

"alright, well may i just have it toasted then?"

"we don't do dat neitha."

just a bagel in a bag. best bagel in nyc.

after smuggling our bagels into starbucks (since h&h had no seating), we headed to the movie theatre on 68th and broadway for a matinee!!!! priced flick. only $6, what a steal. we decided on 27 dresses, which i was curious to see since i am a mere 20 dresses away from being Katherine Heigl.

with 9 of us there, we were thoroughly entertained by each other as much as the movie. i even teared up a little at the end. it definitely satisfied the hankering for a quality rom-com. in a nut-shell, it was how to lose a guy in ten days, never been kissed, the wedding planner, runaway bride, and my best friend's wedding, rolled up into one nice little package of chick-flickyness. hollywood recycling, as i like to call it.

after the movie, some of us decided we enjoyed the sunny 20 degree weather, so we meandered down broadway to see what else the west side had to offer us. i was wearing a hat with a small brim, to keep the biting wind out of my ears, as well as to hide my 3-day unwashed hair. i had it so low on my forehead, that my vision of things ahead of me was slightly inhibited. i realized the danger in this the instant i had a head-on collision with a random pole. the thung of my skull hitting metal caught the attention of my friends and they hit the ground laughing before i even had the chance to register what had happened. it was pure, unadulterated slapstick.

we must of been rolling on the filthy sidewalk with tears streaming down our eyes for at least a couple minutes, when we were interrupted by a man's voice behind us.

"everything alright here, ladies?"

we looked up to see a police officer cowering over us.

"is there a party going on here that you didn't invite me to?" he said.

no, we say, and explain to him that i just ran smack-dab into a pole.

"you're sh--ing me," he said.

"nope," i said as we picked ourselves up off the ground, "i'm sorry we didn't invite you to our party here, officer lopez, have a nice day."

there is one thing we all agreed on as we walked away, running into things, tripping, and falling down, is always funny.

i won't forget this MLK day, and i have the knot on my head to remind me.

$10 love

i am trying to get over the shock of a New Year, which includes, but is not limited to, writing '08 on my checks instead of '07.

in the last year i have worked 3 jobs, been unemployed for two months, and lived in two different places. adjusting to change is a gift of mine that did not exactly ask for. i emerged from 2007 with some thick skin and a multifarious resume. gosh, i had some rough times, and i still have nightmares about some of them. there were moments where i questioned my sanity, and tried to remember how i got here and why. up until september, the why part was still a bit blurry.

now, every day is a reminder why.

my roommates are a reminder why. one loves Jesus and the other can't stand to hear His name.

my rent is a reminder why. i would not pay that much for a tiny apartment if there wasn't a reason.

the homeless people on my street and the fact that i know their names are a reminder why.

my Church is a reminder why. it is an exemplification of love in a city of so many unloved.

i went back and read my blog entry from this time last year. not much has changed regarding my "new life resolution" to "make the best use of the time because the days are evil." i still desire to live life with this notion, however i feel like now, 365 days later, i actually know what it looks like.

A few weeks ago my Pastor gave a sermon on what it means to give more, not only during the holiday season, but in our daily lives. at the end of the service, i and the other deacons passed out ten dollar bills to every person in the congregation with the instruction to bless someone in our city. a blog was created for the purpose of sharing the stories.

as i read story after story, i was stirred by the ripple of love that is infiltrating the streets of new york. i'm still praying for the Lord to show me where to use my $10. maybe Sandra will be on her usual street corner this evening by the pizza place. maybe she'd like to share a coffee, reminisce about another year gone and what to do to make this year better...

harkey thanksgiving

November 20; 8:42 pm CT

i step off the tiny plane at the airport in Monroe Louisiana. my nose recognizes the familiar stench of the paper factory, similar to the odor of a skunk. it's oddly comforting.

i am greeted my the smiling faces of my gran and grandaddy. the first thought to pop into my head is how similar my mom and gran look. it's becoming more and more apparent each year.

"hello honey," gran says, but imagine the "o" drawn out more like "haaawny." i especially like the way my grandparents say my name, "jeewyah." no one else says it the same.

as we drive to their house on island drive, they ask me about my life in the city and how i'm enjoying my new job. i gladly oblige and gush over how happy i am with where i am and what i am doing. how the Lord is blessing apostles church and how humbled i am to be in the heart of this blessing. i tell them i am learning the hardships and joys of planting a church, and that there isn't a doubt in my mind that God is going to do inconceivable things through the people of Apostles.

i tell them that i can't put into words what it means to have their support in ministry.

tradition

as far back as i can remember, we've spent thanksgiving at my gran and grandaddy's house in Louisiana. since my family on my mom's side lives in Mississippi, we all meet in the middle once a year. over time, the family has grown. i have seven younger cousins between the ages of 9 and 20. i remember them all as babies.

we look forward to this holiday with great anticipation and expectation, knowing with certainty that our traditions are waiting for us at gran and grandaddy's.



the harkeys

5 pm is open bar for the harkey's. the adults sip on martinis or g and t's and are content with sitting in the living room reading novels or working on a puzzle together. there's always a puzzle.

scrabble is a must. at least one game is played every thanksgiving. it's fun to play with auntie alison. she jokingly cusses in her quirky scottish/southern accent. my gran is the champion, a walking scrabble dictionary, but one time, one glorious thanksgiving a couple of years ago, i did beat her.





the meal

food, of course, is essential for this holiday, and we never fail to eat well and eat a lot.

one can expect a delicious smoked turkey, gran's famous dressing, auntie alison's sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes, and some good old fashion roles. it's not thanksgiving without my aunt robin's delectable chocolate cakes.

my favorite part of the meal, though, is not the food, but circling to pray before we eat. for the past few years my three cousins, megan, leah, and lorna, read a prayer that they write together. they do this on their own initiative.






football

it ain't thanksgiving without the A&M/UT game. we always watch it in gran and grandaddy's room because that's where the lazy boy's are. if you want to keep your chair, though, you have to stay in it.

for the second year in a row, A&M won.

whoop.




bonfire



a few years ago, a new tradition emerged.

on friday night, my uncle matt builds a small bonfire on the other side of the levi. we roast marshmallows.

this year, we sat around it and sang old girl scout songs and a little beatles, too. i don't know who started it, but many of us ended up in a huge dogpile, aunts and uncles included. everyone was laughing hysterically.

i'd say we're pretty close.




till next year...

i said goodbye to the family early Saturday morning, made the round of hugs, and hugged some twice.

i boarded the tiny plane in the monroe airport.

it was dark as i was flying into new york. lights of all colors, sparkled as far as i could see. peering out the window, it looked like we were soaring across a giant christmas tree.