the saga continues (thank heavens).

for those who didn't grow up with sunday school lessons on flannel boards, read the story them self, or never saw the epic The Ten Commandments film, well, there is this story in the book of Exodus about how God divided the Red Sea so that His chosen people could cross on foot and avoid being captured by Pharaoh and his army-returning them to the slavery and bondage they were recently absolved from. in this story, prior to their being freed, God performed a bunch of strange and spectacular signs and wonders in order to soften Pharaohs heart and demonstrate to Pharaoh that He meant business. the Hebrews too witnessed all this, but when they stood there against the waters edge as Pharaoh and his army drew closer and closer, they doubted. i use to hear this story and marvel at how they could do such a thing considering Everything. i use to imagine if i had been there i would have been hanging out with moses saying things like, "seriously. can you believe these people!!?!?".

today, as the boys and me were driving to the beach, inclining to that point on Kanan Rd where you catch your first glimpse of the Pacific- all glittering and blue, misty and bright- this story was brought to mind. i humorously appended an additional scene to the established narrative: in it some boats came along and the people all cheered and sighed a great sigh of relief thinking this was the plan, this was how God was going to save them and get them to safety when suddenly, right in front of their eyes, all the boats sprang leaks and sunk.

the Hebrew people, while just a smidgen more dramatic than me, have something in common with each other: we both had observed the hand of God on a situation but when things got confusing we both went here:

"Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness? Weren’t there enough graves for us in Egypt? What have you done to us? Why did you make us leave Egypt? Didn’t we tell you this would happen while we were still in Egypt? We said, ‘Leave us alone! Let us be slaves to the Egyptians. It’s better to be a slave in Egypt than a corpse in the wilderness!"

i wrote a blog sometime ago, one i have yet to publish, that is about how love is a choice. as i reflected about the story in Exodus and how i was no better than those faithless Hebrews that i realized, just like love, faith too is a choice: (as someone obsessed with patterns and analytics, i can't believe i failed to see the similarities in love and faith.)

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

right there in the car, five more minuets till beach side, the boys in the back intermediately interrupting my train of thought with requests for the goodies in our picnic basket or informing me how the other one was wronging the other, i knew, regardless of my ability to understand or the tattered emotions involved, that the faith needed wasn't going to come naturally this time, but if i was going to access it, then i had to, point blank, chose to.

i can't see it. i can't feel it. but i'm going to believe in it: i know Him, i know His voice, i know He is good to me.

and during the meantime i'm going to take that same advise Moses gave the Hebrew people,

"just stay calm."

untitled

remember the last post i wrote? read it real quick if you haven't then pick up right back here.

ok, well earlier this evening i got a message from that restaurant that....(drum roll)..... they no longer need me (something to do with restructuring).

this seems both dramatic and fitting:

"And said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21

i've cried. i've tried to make sense of it. i've even googled, for the sheer sake of entertainment, "dear God, what do i do now?". i know He works all things together for my good, i just don't understand why, considering everything the last blog i trust you read went into that i had to get the job in the first place. i would have much preferred to have never perceived His provision and goodness for us only to then find out there never was any provision. it just seems...cruel. i know God isn't cruel, and i know that from the bottom of my heart, but in my limited understanding, that's definitely how it feels right now.

going over this process with my dad on the phone earlier this evening he pointed out a very interesting pattern- how it appears the doors keeps getting shut before me, and maybe, just maybe, i should think of going in a new direction. i tell ya, i don't even care what i do at this point,  i just don't want to be rejected anymore; i don't want promising leads that lead me to a huge waste of time, i don't want to be fed any false hope via great interviews that end up futile, and i don't want positions offered and then taken away.

additionally, i'm confused. are we, or aren't we, suppose to be here?!?! i mean, had you asked me yesterday i wouldn't have thought twice about it: it was an answer to prayer, i was given a word of promise regarding it, and i witnessed Him orchestrate the whole thing. but now, considering it appears that He is shutting doors that i need to walk through (for the sake of us living here and us worshipping Him with everything we have) before i can even get to them, i'm totally baffled. we literally can not live here on one income. it's not a "well it would be more comfortable if we had a little bit more cashola so i think i'll try and find a job". no. it's for real ya'll.

this isn't my first time down a road of this sort, which is probably why, this time around, i'm such a mental mess right now. but for the first time ever, i don't feel i know Him. and you have to understand how stomach tearing, waterfall shooting out my eyeballs that is. i've never not known Him. He was my second best friend (my little sister being my first). we walk, we talk...

if i ever i needed to see Him, now would be the time. i believe. i do. i want to.

blessed be the name of the Lord.

Jehovah-jireh

we knew the day would come, the day when the extra money in our bank account would be consumed by trips to ikea, the dentist, the optometrist, h&m, tj maxx, and chic-fil-a. on this day we knew, i would have to find a job and i would find it fast or we would be up a creek without a paddle.

that day happened a few weeks ago.

the last few times i've gone to find a job i've found one fairly easily, and in the end, persuaded myself out of accepting the offers given to me. this time around i knew i didn't have such false luxury; i was going to have take what i was given. the thing i was not expecting was that it would take me plastering the surrounding area with my resume, having great interviews with no call back, or applying to places i felt myself above only to receive emails notifying me they went with a "better match". 

it was after yet another rejection email to a restaurant...in the mall! that i had my rock bottom moment. the saving grace for my hope was knowing God sent us here, knowing He doesn't lead you and then leave you; still, the rejection was beating down on my confidence and optimism. i don't necessarily want to wait tables. before every place i walked into with a resume in my hand, before every hand i shook with my warmest smile, before every great interview, i pep talked myself into it, "your doing this for your family" i would tell myself, "your doing this so we can have health insurance, so we can tithe, so we don't have to move". of course, i would rather begin to tally some experience in a career that will take me where i feel lead to serve, but then, just as my husband pointed out and God reminded me, waiting tables is that very job right now. it's not at a design firm, or a magazine, or a music label, or a church that shares the same super cool vision for communicating and sharing the love of God in real practical and relevant ways...it's in a restaurant waiting on people wanting a great dining experience.

as i mentioned above, the need for me to work involves a desire for us to tithe. we weren't always able to do so at our church in southern oregon, and it killed me. jon and me fought about it till we were both backed and ready to swing in our corners till my father counseled me on how serving in the church was acceptable "payment" while we were piss ass broke. never less, i yearned to worship God with everything i/collective we had, and would do so when i knew doing so wasn't going to result in us bouncing ten other checks.

after it appeared that jon too had settled on reality la being our new home church that i began to itch to tithe. but, just like in southern oregon, it, along with a few other necessities, wasn't there. on sunday morning as they announced the ushers to come forward to take the mornings tithe and offerings, i made a great leap of faith decision: we were going to tithe and God was going to cover it. end of story. and we did, and while part of me wondered if i could call the church office on monday morning and ask them to hold it for a few months, the other part of me was filled with peace and joy in that act of trust and worship.

the sermon that morning only confirmed my suspicions that God was going to come through; that because He had brought us here to this land where only those with dual incomes survive that I only needed to pray for His favor, and to keep trying to find a job. i would, i surely would.  well, at least, that's what I took away from it.

then a couple days ago i had another interview. i prayed on my way out there (in topanga!) that if this was the place God would use me to serve my family and be able to worship Him in all areas of my life that i would have favor and that the position would be mine. i felt like the opportunity was Gods provision for us, but then, the interview was one of my worst yet. i apologized to jon when i got home for him having taken off time from work for me to go down there. it seemed like a total waste.

then yesterday as i was on my way out the door when i heard the message: they loved me...i got the job.

where He leads He will provide (make no mistake about it).

hello beautiful.

if i were a youth worker this is a message i would want to give young girls because i remember being a young girl, a very different sort of young girl who was terribly the same underneath it all.

i didn't have a horrible home life. i had a great one and i know how unfair that is, and how undeservedly blessed i am for it. see, i knew my parents loved me, i knew my Creator loved me, and between those two sources of knowledge i had a fairly competent self esteem of who i was-was just fine. which was good because when your a young girl going through the throngs of junior high and high school every little bit of sanity and grounding is precious.

now as a coming of age young women it didn't take long for me to realize my male peers did not consider me one of the "pretty" ones, and while i wished they were deeper in their conceptualization of beauty, i never wished to succumb to their idea of attractiveness. i was who i was, goofy and sarcastic, unabashedly individualistic, with a zany approach to fashion, mod style haircuts that my male classmates referred to as 'lesbo', and that great Italian nose of mine. for those 6 years i watched as my friends had boyfriends, had valentines, had admirers; i listened to their stories of love requited, of french kissing lessons in the band room closet, and of heart-ache.

*though, hmmm, as i write this i do recall i wasn't completely without an admirer... there was one. and if he should read this i will be completely mortified because then he too will know he really was the only one to ever pin away for me, or to write letters of admiration to me, or to call my dad and tell him how he thought i was the bees knees. even more shocking to this plot was that this guy was one of the "hot" ones who also led worship for his youth group in small town, texas. which if you've ever grown up in a church you know the love burning madness of all single females that revolves around a single male worship leader, particularly if he is good looking in the slightest. it's bonkers, and so was i because i didn't reciprocate those feelings to the sort of guy any girl in her right mind would have been honored to be adored by, a good one (sorry R.).*

honest to goodness, i didn't feel legitimately desirable till well after high school...which is also when i had my first boyfriend. i had let the resounding notion given to me in school and in youth group of me not being the sort of girl guys liked because of my looks and my very odd personality; even later on in life i still allowed that bologna to stunt my ability to be truly loved.

while i was secure in who God made me was okey dokey, and i was not in need of oodles of male approval, i did long to be liked back when i liked. still waters might run deep, but bubbly brooks come from springs deep within the earth and i felt constantly over looked because i didn't try to sell myself as desirable. none the less, i badly coveted for someone to see the whole picture of me: the seriousness underneath it all, the devotion, the sensitivity, the thinker, the sincerity, and the vulnerability of someone who just wanted to be loved in spite of who she was and was not.

but boys are just that, boys. and i don't even think if i had met my now husband in jr. high or high school if he would have been man enough to go there for a girl who wasn't considered 'pretty'. it's just the way it is.

year after year our society becomes increasingly obsessed with looks, vanities. i can't fathom how difficult it would be to be a young girl a margin less than what the world perceives as perfect, or as desirable, beautiful these days. if it was tough then, it must be practically unbearable now.

with that in mind, hear me out:

young girl, you are beautiful and not because guys think you are, your parents think you are, or because you posted a picture of yourself and you got like a thousand "likes" on it. you are not beautiful because your a good person, or because you give to the homeless, you volunteer your time for great causes, nope, you are beautiful because God designed you and He thinks your beautiful, and He doesn't make less than pure perfection nor does He lie. see, even the meanest, the rudest, the most selfish, the most glossed up, heeled up are beautiful too (although i admit i have to really try to see past all the stuff and things they put in the way to see their beauty).

so, and but, please don't end on the receiving end of the stick, take that same vision and apply it to the people around you, see them as the Creator does: beautiful! and don't fret about the boys or allow the lack of adoration get in your head as some reality about yourself, some of them grow up and become men and those men understand that not only is beauty skin deep but that there is so much more to attraction than the outer appearance (and that the "weird" ones are actually the really interesting ones, and some awesome men actually find that more desirous than a "pretty" face).

when i was a kid my dad and me use to lay out on sleeping bags in the backyard and watch the stars- naturally it was more than merely watching the night sky- it was a time and a special way for my father and me to bond. of course, anytime you hang out with rick harbst you are bound to go away with some new knowledge, or factoid that you were not in possession of prior; hanging out with my dad is like chilling with an interesting (yet zany) encyclopedia (that has legs and arms of course). it was no different as a child of his. on those starry summer nights i learned about astronomy, greek mythology, and theology. if i was not already a lover of the night sky, i soon became one; however, i don't recall ever NOT being amazed by it...but then again i don't recall those first few times i looked up into space without my dad by my side. for me the heavens were, and are, a portal into the ancient world, a beautiful page out of a story book, a brilliant chasm of endless curiosities, and a vessel for awe and wonder at my Creator and his creation.

this past christmas the boys decided jesus was the brightest star in the night sky. i think it originated with the story of His birth in the manager, and the star that showed the way for the three wise man to Him. and while it's not theologically sound, as they sat perched by the huge windows in jons and mine room with the lights out starring up and talking to each other about how He was looking at them right then, it was just too darn cute to correct.

over the weekend we took off, got out of town, and went camping. there are a few things i didn't expect southern california to offer, one of them being, great camping, but lo and behold! i was wrong. we got to our campsite on saturday and left sunday-it was an one day wonder. the boys would have camped the rest of the month if it were possible (they said so themselves), but not knowing how socal'ers coexist out in nature we felt it best for our first go to be a short go.

we played in the creek that ran behind our site, the boys swimming where it was wide and deep enough, climbing over and around boulders that got in our way, and spying on fairies in a sparkling crevice of a trees raised roots; we set up our tent, wrestled on the air mattress, made a fire, roasted marshmallows over said fire, took walks around the campground, and star gazed.

jon and truman had already retired for the night but conrad and me weren't quite ready for our great day to be over. the fire was still crackling and we sat on some rocks positioned around the fire pit. dusk had turned pitch black within a walk to the restroom and putting our food into the back of the car. along with great camping i also wasn't expecting the night skies near or around southern california to be impressive, but lo and behold! i was wrong.

outlined by pines and giant oaks and hills was a dark canvas of countless bright and twinkling stars shining through. for awhile conrad and me strained our necks looking up at them, then we decided to lay on the hood on my car and use the windshield as our pillow. we made up constellations as i have since forgotten all but the big and little dipper, i reminded conrad how the scriptures say God measures the universe in the palm of his hand, and we mutually marvelled at how stunning it was. finding the brightest and biggest star conrad again made comment on that being jesus. i asked him if he really thought that star was jesus and he informed me he did not but that-that brightest and biggest star was like jesus. according to conrad, not only was it the biggest and brightest in the sky, but like jesus, it could see everything, even us.

now, instead of my father teaching me about the wonders of the heavens i have a five year old assisting me in seeing it in a very personal way. count me the most blessed star gazer there ever was.

CBW, also known as Compulsive Butt Wiping (archive)

deleting my myspace account and came across this blog i wrote some years ago on there. i had to save it. enjoy.

Jan 18, 2008

here is something only two people in the world know about me: i am a compulsive butt wiper.

up until yesterday this "illness", as my husband refers to it, had never resulted in any sort of catastrophe. unless of course you consider an occasional asshole bleeding from over-wiping; in which case, my asshole might.

i'm not going to lie and defend that i'm normal. i came to terms with my strangeness in the second grade, i will, however, put out there that at least i don't strip down to my birthday suit just to take a crap like a certain somebody who went to shady grove did, and probably still does.

now, as to my incident, it should be noted that more had gone on than just a single bowel movement. the night before i had, as pregnant women do, woken up various times to go tinkle. yes tinkle not pee. because to pee one would actually have to pee, and tinkling is what happens when all you have in you is a couple drops of urine, though it feels like a full bladder due to a peanut sized baby hanging out on top of it.

being in the middle of the night, with a 18 month old not too far away from the bathroom, i decided to wait till the morning to flush. morning comes and conrad isn't awake, but my morning bm is. i make the choice to go ahead and take my bm in the toilet anyways. which i do.

the afternoon rolls around and conrad and me already have been out and about, but now we are home. he is napping, when lo and behold my afternoon bm comes requesting my attention. i lift the lid to see the most horrific sight: multiple uses. i'm quite aware i HAVE to flush it. as i do the swirling brown and yellow water chokes on it's descent-it makes an upward swirl before it goes tumbling back down in defeat again. i wiggle the handle in Morse code, it reads: go down damnit. but the code is lost, deflected perhaps by the abundance of defected used toliet paper. before i have time to realize what is going on the water has risen over the seat and is pouring down to the shiny taverntine marble, it is a faucet, it does not stop. as i dance from dry spot to dry spot i try to reach the handle i have seen my husband turn in previous fixer up jobs; "lefty loosey, righty tighty" i repeat to myself. but righty isn't working and the water has now left the bathroom and is entering the mini-hallway. i jump out and run to the bedroom for a pair of shoes. the blue dansko clogs will do. i roll my jeans to my thighs, it seems perfectly normal considering how much water is coming from the toilet-fountain. i'm back to that magical handle, but righty still isn't working. by this point the water is in the living room and our bedroom. i'm cursing like a mad women with six swine in her. i run to find my cell phone to call jon; i'm imagining the entire house being flooded, conrad floating by me still sleeping on his mattress. jon doesn't answer. and i'm back to the not so magical handle. i try lefty loosey and it works! the water stops! i keep calling jon to inform him on why he should always answer the phone when i'm calling; i run through the series of events with him. jon knows it's not my first time to clog the toilet because of my need for my asshole to be perfectly clean of feces, but it's my first time to flood the house because of it. before i can finish the part of me effortlessly turning righty he reminds me once again how well he knows me when he asks, "so did you end up trying your other right?"

here is something else only two people know about me: i often confuse my left from my right.

newsletter-esque

update:

the pictures are hung on the walls, the dishes are stacked in the cabinets, the backyard is littered with shovels and water guns, and daffodils from easter dinner with the bucks still reside in vases around the living room and kitchen. a rhythm, faint but audible, has begun to emerge in the months since moving to southern california. the boys run through the courtyard and into the library every wednesday, they have items to return, mostly tom n' jerry dvds and books about reptiles and insects, in their arms and they go without hesitation to the return slot and slide them down the ramp; they know the names of roads around here, favorite places to eat (habit, chic-fil-a, the natural cafe), and that it's always best to check the weather and wind down at the beach before going. we've found a church, a dentist, a mechanic; visited the school conrad will be attending next year; signed up for swim lessons at the nearby calabasas swim and tennis center for next month, and have weekly tot soccer obligations. i made cookies tonight, some for us, some for our friends, and some for our neighbors. the settling in has successfully commenced.

of course, the trajectory from relocation to acclimatization hasn't been a total picnic. the first few weeks in our place were a comical tragedy: the place was left in such a state of filth that we had to spend the first day and a half here cleaning, then once unpacked we started to see numerous problems and then the heater broke, the tub busted a hole, the disposal stopped working, there was a leak from our hot water tank going under our room, the carpet had to be replaced because of mold in it, and so on and so forth. still it was only temporary and more importantly God has been showing his goodness and His provision for us through it all. the manna is enough.

jon is enjoying his job. he works right down the rode from where we live, so close that most days he walks home, crossing the golf course behind our house before he swings through those rusty gates. as to how he is liking it here, well... he is for sure doing better than i thought he might. it's not oregon, and he brings that to my attention quite frequently; none the less, to the degree i know he misses oregon, overall he is coping well, even embracing what southern california has to offer-at times. we've tried to seek out a fishing hole suitable for him and conrad to no avail. the trails, while there are many and many felicitous for a good day hike, they don't really compare to the enchanting trails through the wilderness of oregon. however, what we do have is southern california beaches and the pacific ocean lapping up onto it. i'm hoping to put conrad in surf camp this summer, take paddle boarding lessons myself, and score some ocean fishing gear at a yard sale this spring for the boys. when in rome, do as the romans do.

this move is so different from the move jon and i did some six and a half years ago to oregon. foremost, we're in a healthier place in life: relationship sound, with children, a steady job, and community. but the biggest difference, other than the copious amount of sunshine i thank God for every day, is the fact that we knew this is what He wanted for us, and we were in a place in our lives to hear it and to obey it. to know your where He wants you makes all the problems that pop up, the longing for something familiar, and the missing of dear ones not just bearable but happily bearable. southern california doesn't make it to hard to happily bear it either.

i was designed for here, and then, i was also designed for There. and when i get There i can hardly wait to fulfill that purpose in me, to kneel there and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry at His feet. i have no idea why 'that' but i do-i feel like i was created with that exact purpose in mind.

sermon on the chair, dear church of westboro

my heart is for God to be glorified in all things; this is the driving force behind everything i believe in and everything i wish i did/do; try to.

when i see God being used to glorify ones personal convictions, when His heart is misrepresented, when believers use Him to further political agenda, i get irritated. super irritated.

the reason:

if your not adopted, imagine you are. now, you have other brothers and sisters but they haven't met your adopted dad, who by the way is the most wonderful father in the world. some of these other siblings of yours have heard about this guy who claims is their dad, wants to be their dad, whatever, and some of what they've heard is good and true, but some of it is completely inaccurate and false. these siblings of yours need their father, and there you are in a relationship with him. so, would it make sense to introduce your siblings to their dad by first telling them all the things (you think) dad thinks their doing wrong?! or, perhaps, should you tell them about how loving and caring and kind dad is-about all the wonderful things dad has done for them and has in store for them, and when their ready, and dad will know it, dad can discuss with them those areas of their life that might not be good for them. it's a no brainer. no person in their right mind would be responsive to the first option, unless of course, i guess, that person has serious self-esteem issues that would bizarrely relish in that sort of criticism and perceived authoritarianism.

i see the above happen more often than i can stomach. i see it with how the church interacts with community and culture and how christians parade their politics. this seems absolutely asinine to me: what is our objective with the world around us then if not to bring those in it into dynamic relationship with their creator by means of demonstrating the power of His love?!? i can only hypothesize based on the design of the purpose that the purpose is creating a world in which "christian ideology" is preserved in both culture and government. which too seems totally and sadly, off.

God created us an individuals, unique beings each wonderfully and fearfully made. He also made us with free will, allowing us to choose Him instead of forcing us by omitting our will from the equation. now, why then would we, who have been given free will, decide it's necessary to assert our beliefs, beliefs attained through free will, on those who don't share the same beliefs?!? this seems completely hypocritical and contrary to His design. furthermore, how does this sort of power struggle advance His kingdom?! there are of course common absolutes, like all life is created equal, but these sort of ideas are natural pre-dispositions of humanity versus taught religious specifics (of course a perfect argument can be made, as was done by cs lewis, that said dispositions of human kind is evidence of a moral genesis). the church need not waver in what is right in the eyes of God and what is wrong-this is not a call for shades of grey to be exonerated, however, i do believe the church, certain churches, need to evaluate how His message is being delivered...and in certain churches cases, what the capital letter F message are you delivering?! because i'm pretty sure it came straight from down you know where.

remember, according to cornithians 13:1-13,

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.  And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.  Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;  does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;  bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love."

it seems pretty clear to me, deliver love with love and love God above all.

the moving files

the countdown is now in it's days stride. the excitement of the adventure at hand is all consuming, yet every now and then, without much notice or warning, i have a moment where the reality of what we're leaving behind strikes me and in that said moment i'm aware. conrad will tell you if prompted, straight up, "i'm not feeling all that great about it". of course, foremost, he is a child and he loves his playmates and the world as he knows it, but he, unlike most children his age or adults my age, has a real deal best friend and the thought of moving further than a few blocks away from this friend is a lot for him to process without displeasure. that, by far, is the most difficult part of this relocation to LA. i know we'll find a new church, find new ways to enjoy our weekends, find a cool neighborhood-a great home, and, surely sure, make new friends. i know this because i did it when i moved here to oregon. and while my experience here in oregon has been completely different on almost every imaginable level, i've adapted. jarringly, but assuredly.

any other way

i know the me who i think i am is not exactly accurate. i choose not to give too much validation to that perception-i choose instead to put my identity into who and how God sees me, and it's not some vague, broad brush of an assessment. it's specific. sometimes i forget, but He is also good to remind me, to restore me.

when i returned to church i wasn't just going to go, or to meet people, or to act out some christian expectation, no, i was retreating back to a heart that desired Him with everything, above everything. and as such i couldn't just sit there in worship all composed-i'm pretty sure for the first two years i lost it emotionally every time i opened my mouth to sing. we were together again, and He was reminding me: i was a worshipper. it's a very humbling thing to have the Creator gently admonish you of His design for you, to be brought back to a place you can't believe you ever walked away from.

i'm glad i have this identity to cling to and not my own because mine isn't kind to me, but in Him i am whole, i am purposed, i am beautiful, and He desires me.

i stayed up way too late last night talking with some friends, and i saw the gargantuan mess of pain that occurs when the descry of who we are is attained without His point of view. i wanted to shake the living daylights out of this person, i wanted to slap her across her face, but most of all i wanted to put some spectacles on her that would show her how He beholds her. but i realize to understand how God sees us it helps to know the nature of God; it helps to know that He doesn't grade our crapiness and gaffes on a scale from 1-10, or 1-infinite, that the redemption of the cross covers every imaginable sin. what an incredibly freeing thing it is! to walk in forgiveness because you know Christ really has covered your sins, that you are truly redeemed... i'm pretty sure nothing in this world can come close to compare.

i don't really care to give advice. it often comes across as presumptuous or haughty, but here, in this instance, i feel it must be put out there. we all need to remind ourselves, or if necessary, to redo the way we go about it. hence, define yourself not by what you are or by what you are not, by what you have done or by what you have not, by what you own or what you own not, but define yourself by Him and as such walk with your head held high. you are beautiful, and in Him redemption and design is found.

most evenings, after the kids are in bed and the mess from the day has been tamed, i sit on the couch with the laptop perched where it's name suggests and browse all the wonders of the internet. i know i should be reading a book, or journaling, or knitting sweaters for the homeless, or learning an instrument, or baking bread, or brushing up on the romanian i never really learned, or writing 6 year late wedding thank-you cards, or re-arranging my sock drawer, but i don't. i veg out. i have my favorites, sites that check me out of reality and into a fantastical state of clean lines and the couture inspired : dwell studio, design public, wallpaper, modcloth, and fly london. then there is the allure of researching a random thing, or place, or an idea to no end, of which i thank craigslist and wikipedia and the google search engine. just this week i've garnered the most necessary of knowledge to include "which cars are the best for city driving", 12/12/12 (supposedly the world is going to end and the best place to be is up on a mountain in africa), work visas for australia and new zealand, enlarged lymph nodes in the neck, and thyroid disorders...all of them.

i'm not proud of this, albeit i'm quite aware how deserved it is. i really do have the most rewarding and awesome job in the world, but it's also the hardest. still, i really should demand more of myself, at the very least, as it's occurring now, i could blog.

i went on a hike this morning, and if you were hearing me write this in my head then you would know i use that word "hike" very loosely. even as i'm about to type the following i'm hesitating because i realize most people live somewhere that even the jacksonville trails would sincerely be considered a hike. i don't, and i should: i'm from dallas. it's just i've been HIKING and while i absolutely love all the trails that make their way up and around our little town and that are less than a mile from my doorstep, it's definitely a far cry from being in the wilderness or attaining that pristine vista. but as i mentioned, it's less than a mile, maybe a mile, from my door step and so on a saturday morning when there are many other things to be accomplished it fits the bill.

and i do enjoy it-i love it. in fact, i'm always so glum when the trail meets it's dissolution and i find myself on a street or back at the trail head. i want it to go on forever and forever. it's the smell of the forest, the trees encompassing me, the quiet hush of solitude, a twig snapping, a bird in flight, my Creator and me. it's crack to my soul. as i was reaching the top of beekmans loop i could see the hills (in texas they would be classified as mammoth mountains) all adorned in autumns splendor, homes nestled in crevices, and the sky so blue. this spot has become a special spot for me, partly because it has a bench and by the time i make it up there i'm ready to sit and catch my breath, but mostly because it's a place God and I have all to ourselves. i had lots of these sort of places growing up-a field, or a nook under a bridge, and i would visit them regularly chatting away with God, mostly me doing all the talking, but during these visits He also taught me how to be quiet and how to not just hear Him but how to see Him.

and i see a Creator who is passionately in love with His creation; who puts songs on our hearts and wonder in our eyes; who is more compassionate than we give Him credit for; who whispers in the wind and in the absence of wind; who heals and restores; who inspires.

dallas had become stifling, a garrote for dreams-dreams of a life that would be about so much more than what that city had to offer-the endless pursuit of materialism, of popularity, and, as far as i could tell, nothingness. i was eager for an adventure, something that would and could catapult me into a hybrid of the dallas existence. there was also jon.


jon and i had been dating/not dating/interested in each other/not interested in each other for several years; shortly after the dismantle of hi-fi drowning and all the drama that surrounded the contentions that led to it, he hugged me farewell and set off in his truck for the great northwest. i remained in dallas for another year, completely unsure what and where the next step would be for me, the one thing i was most certain of was Change.

Change came in the form of love. the quandary that was our relationship, after nearly a year apart, had transformed itself into, for jon, intention about me- intention for devotion, and settled affection. i was more than receptive to this development, and after a harrowing act on jon's behalf to return to dallas to fetch me, i was off.


of course, the only thing one can expect is the unexpected, and that is exactly what oregon had in store for me. portland might have been an easier adjustment for someone (recently quasi-single and hip to the hipster scene) moving from a city like dallas, but with jon's no non-sense approach to EVERYTHING, we instead moved to a rural, small town in southern oregon where his sister lived and where we could rent a place for quite cheap which would provide us with the opportunity to finish up school and save some money. inject the unexpected. we arrived somewhere near the end of september and spent the following weeks turning a shit hole of an above garage apartment into something very livable. by mid-october i had a job cocktailing at a restaurant downtown and jon was back in the groove of the job he left when he came to save me from the humid throngs of dallas. our return to academia was planned for the coming spring. then in november the unexpected happened, and while it's been the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, it caught me by complete surprise: i was to become a Mommy.


since that moment the move to oregon became about something More than the More, it became about integrity, and that integrity has convoyed much wonderfulness and responsibility in mine and jons life. jon did finally make it back school a year and a half ago; i've yet to pursue anything past motherhood, i've made it a conscious effort to live this moment-the moment of my children being children.



and throughout the past six years i've learned a lot about myself-about my limits, like the fact i need to have sunshine by march-that nine months of rainy cold weather turns me into a very miserable being. i've discovered that music wasn't just something for my twenties-that i still crave the discovery and immersion of an orchestration of melody, harmony, rhythm, and timbre crafted in originality and done with great care, and that if i don't have it-if the need isn't meet-my disposition suffers greatly. i've realized i love the mountains, more than i ever could have anticipated-that the beauty of this place is magical, and that magic is like water for my soul. before living in oregon i didn't quite grasp how the magnitude of such a beautiful place can truly awe oneself about ones Creator-but i have learned with every new trail, each evening at the river, day at a mountain lake, and "sunday" drive we take, i steep in a regenerated level of astuteness about the greatness of the God i serve.



i left as a city girl fed up with the city, and six years later living in a small town in a valley surrounded by mountains, sure i'm still that city girl at heart, but i like to think i've embraced the northwest lifestyle and, if i had my way this weekend, i'd be backpacking in the Trinity Alps with not an extra change of clothes to my name, totally thrilled to be eating reconstituted freeze dried food later in the evening under a sky filled with stars, drinking treated water, and falling asleep curled up as tight as possible in my sleeping bag as tired and as happy as can be.

it's the curse of the writer to write about not writing.

there is no such thing as a personal reality, just ones perception of reality. you can call a horse a cow all day long, but a horse is a horse and a cow is a cow regardless of ones perception. reality is not based on anything but itself; we, as humans in all our intellect, can not change it-however, we have the genuis ability of aligning our reason to it's constant, unbending truth.

"Distinctions drawn by the mind are not necessarily equivalent to distinctions in reality." Thomas Aquinas

also, love trumps all.

Clarification

i must be putting it out there, misrepresenting-because i keep hearing it, and it's not true, and truth be told, i want to be here. i left texas for more than a reason.

i miss it, sure.

pre-oregon: i wasn't one of those people who had this vision of their life's every detail planned out and thought through, especially the part about marriage and children. well, i guess i did but then something i'm intent on keeping vague happened and i was forced to hit the reset button, i just failed to hit the revise visually button. somewhere in that vacant void of a head of mine i figured it all would be exactly as i wanted it to be because i wanted exactly and whatever God wanted it to be. however, c.s. lewis wasn't kidding when he said, " We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." that last part is the post-oregon lesson.

i just always assumed that one day when i had a family, my family would be a part of it. of course, as mentioned, i wanted to move from texas. i moved, in part for a guy i was pretty sure i was going to want to spend the rest of my life with. and yet, i never put the one and one together. it never dawned on me that moving all the way to oregon, far from my family, to most likely start a new life with another person would mean my family would be...wait for it...far from it. that is the reality, but in this reality God is directing, and i like it best when He does the directing.

regrettably, when my kids have been sick for two weeks, it's incessantly dreary, jon is at work all day then three nights of the week playing music and fit in between all that his schooling, i crave and long for home. for texas. for family. for help. for days when my biggest stress was an unruly table of SMU douche bags. for margaritas on a warm patio with my friends.

i get it though. i get that-that longing and craving are a huge distraction from what the reality is all about, and that reality is loving God the way He deserves and loving others the way God does no matter what and no matter where i am.

let the record state:

missie misses her family and friends and bbq and tex-mex and live music and good times had in texas.
missie wants whatever God wants, and that seems to be oregon.
missie likes oregon.

sandy harbst, mother and person extraordinaire

it seems like every living soul has too many horror stories to share concerning their mothers, so go ahead and start resenting me now, because i don't have a single one.


my mother is perfect, and being perfect is perhaps her only imperfection. bias, you say. hardly. this mother of mine is nothing short of a modern day miracle. and not only that, but today is her birthday, so keep a lid on whatever psychological evaluation you would like to make about me.

it's a bit to live up to as a mother myself. a bit, i'm almost positive i've already ruined my chances of; the sort of patience my mother possesses is super-natural. i grew up with this sort of constant grace and calmness aimed at me in light of all my mishaps and bouts of ridiculousness. i knew there wasn't anything i could do that would stop her from loving me, or thinking the world of me. she verbalized and lived love and not only towards us her children and my father but towards everyone. my mother will not, nor has she ever uttered a word of malice or contentiousness towards another person. she sees the best in everyone and will only allow herself to be understanding, nothing less. it's amazing. she is amazing. i know only a handful of people who come somewhat close to the degree of selflessness and loveliness as her, and naturally, their either people my mother has influenced like my sisters and father, or, people i've seen this in and have either married or made sure to be best friends with. once you've known someone as beautiful inside and out like my mother, you become a junkie to be close in proximity, via physically or emotionally, to people like that. you want and hope it rubs off on you. you are forever loyal to them.


so today, mother, i salute you. i honor you. i love you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Built to Spill, Historic Ashland Armory, 11/11/10

any other band and i would have stayed home, nursed my cold with hot tea, nyquil, and an early bed time. but those who know Built To Spill know, they're far from any ol' band. plus, it was my birthday present, the one i bought for my husband to give to me and it was the highlight of my turning of 31. whatever hardships i knew i was to encounter because of the late night and early rising child and cold that i was most likely going to aggravate because of the neglect i was going to have to give my body in order to go was going to be worth it. and it was.

ashland is weird though. i was hoping to find my new best friend there. me, her, side by side at the show drinking a beer, rocking out with our fists pumping then somehow a natural conversation would ensue as lead man, doug, tuned his guitar in between songs. we'd start chatting, buy each other a beer, realize how much we had in common ,exchange numbers, or maybe just look one another up on facebook- both amazed we both we're living in the same valley all this time and had never met, because, well, we're obviously made for one another. next thing you know we're going out for lemongrass margaritas on a tuesday night and having the time of our lives.

maybe i was standing in the wrong spot, because i spent the entire show by myself. no conversations in between songs. no "what are you drinking?". no euphony of similarities, or facebook searches later that night, or lemongrass margarita plans. however, oh however, their were plenty of pot smelling hippies swaying enthusiastically out of rhythm and numerous girls in a dance/aerobic circles who clearly weren't about the music but about showcasing their retardness and whoredom; there were middle aged men with 1998 goatees swarming underage hotties, and that's about it. or at least from where i was standing. which, since i was by myself and not going to drink enough to allot to my confidence quota for 'in the front fist pumping and bra slinging', i was in the back, in the middle where i know acoustics are there best, and they were.

i will admit, at first, i wasn't all too impressed. my first time to see Built to Spill was from the vantage of backstage; the air was charged, the sound perfect, and the view impeccable. it still stands as the best show i've ever seen (right under it is seeing Trail of the Dead at Clearview. holy !!!!. that show was off the hook awesome.) this time around however they seemed to get off to a sluggish start, totally void of that electric pulse in your heart you get at a truly awesome show. but a little half way through the set, it was on. and by the encore, i was ready to run my bra to the front.

this morning i'm hurting, but damn it feels good to be a cowboy. or, you know.

five minutes away is a little town no bigger than a hippie chic's armpit bush, that has every charm every parent dreams about raising their kids around. Main St. is only a few blocks long with a valley beyond it known for it's mom and pop wineries and idyllic afternoon drives. the town itself consists of a handful of special shops, a restaurant or four, a top notch outdoor music venue that looks across at the stark in comparison bare eastern hills that always it seems are illuminated with a blazing sunset, a post office the size of a public restroom, a richard scary style fire station, a park, a church, a school, and a library. the trees along the streets swoop down and around the cottage style homes, sometimes shabby chic and sometimes shabby socal. bambi and her family are familiar figures laying in front yards, or crossing the street, or dashing through the park. everyone it seems knows everyone. the crime rate is so low it measures invisible. and it was named one of the top ten coolest small towns to live in by yahoo, and yes it is, none other than, jacksonville.

since moving to southern oregon, and then a few short weeks later finding out i was pregnant, jon and i both knew jacksonville would be the ideal town to raise our family in. but that was at the height of the market, just before the bubble burst and home prices adjusted meagerly to the demographic median salary. at the time, a starter home in jacksonville would set one back close to half a million, and obviously, that was a LOL sort of notion for us.

we're still not much closer today than we were five years ago to the "dream" of home buying, which is more than fine with me, i'm not altogether convinced owning is better than renting anyways, but with conrad just half a year away from starting kindergarten, i am over our stint in medford and ready to materialize the intention of us in jacksonville.

otherwise, i want the beach.

potty training conrad was like a high five you already had your hand raised for. one friday morning i woke up and decided it was time. i told him it was time. i took off his diaper, pointed to the potty, and then to the glass jar of rainbow colored chocolate incentives. that was it. he was potty trained.

truman, on the other hand, is proving to actually needing to be trained....on the potty and not in his pants. prior to truman, and after conrads lessons in bladder mastery, there were all these other kids we knew, kids who were conrads age and constantly crapping themselves, or their mothers would have to ask them if they had to go, if they were going to go in a sanitary means. it was foreign and frightening to me- i didn't understand why the kids didn't just excuse themselves and go to the restroom when they needed like my all-amazing conrad.

on a typical day truman poops himself at least once. at first i threw away his training underwear not sure what to do with a cloth bowl of crap. or, more honestly, knowing what to do but beyond disgust to actually bring myself to deal with said crap bowl. after a few times i realized that wasn't very earth friendly of me nor was it financially beneficial. so i began running the stinky, messy 2Ts to the wash, or if we were out, to a plastic bag i had brought ahead and had tucked in one of the front zip-up pockets of my purse. that was a few weeks ago, and we are, slowly but surely, getting better. some days, he's perfect: accident, poop-pants, free. and then some days, i gain empathy.