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.