home...not necessarily a geography exactly. not quite a specific person. no i think it's that overwhelming sense of peace, the sort where at last, your soul is at rest. when i feel a wash of quiet bliss, a transcendent peace, and a wide-eyed wonder...i know i am home. for me, that is largely a specific geography...my mountains in north carolina. there i can sit and simply be in awe of splendor and beauty surrounding me. i can turn off all the whirlwind thoughts. i can simply be. it is there, nestled in those grand and rocky crags that i know all is well and right with the world, even if but for just a moment. it is there that i can be free from all encumbrances of the everyday. life is not weighty or complicated there sitting by a blazing fire looking out over the rolling hills speckled with trees. there all my worries are washed away by the sound of the waterfall tumbling down the smooth, time worn rocks and boulders. there i have found my home.

Lately I've been considering the idea of being "right". Not that I'm against being right, regardless of a given situation, in fact, I yearn to be right, and often find that I am precisely that...right. But at what cost? What is it worth to be right? The more I think about it, the less I think being right is really all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I've become a bit of a pacifist over the years. Or perhaps I simply no longer see the value in fighting an uphill battle. I'm not entirely certain to be honest, but I have come to a firm understanding that being right most often comes at a cost. Now maybe it costs me personally very little. But what does it cost the other person? Or actually, what might being right cost me on a personal level? Recently I've seen how being right in an argument or dispute costs people greatly. They lose sight of their character and integrity quite expediently. Suddenly all notions of a moral compass are gone as quickly as dandelion seeds blow in the wind. And with that...all is lost. Being right immediately loses all value. Yes, certainly, in a very superficial, fleeting way perhaps being right has some merit...some worth, but in the long run, when character and integrity are lost, the value of being right is less than nothing. I have closely watched the actions of those in authority over me in the passing weeks and months and have been met with little more than extreme disappointment and frustration. While I'm well aware that at times people get angry and frustrated and often it is difficult to refrain from allowing emotions to take over, I have, much to my dismay, been witness to complete disregard for others, total disrespect, immaturity, and an utter loss of character and integrity. Sadly I must admit people on my own team have acted in these ways, and truly it is nothing short of humiliating. I am horrified at the way my coworkers have treated others with such utter disregard for given trades and with a complete lack of understanding for the work that must be complete. To my horror, people have been cursed out and bad mouthed, and when the recipients of such behavior have apologized for the part they played in the act, they were met with nothing more than a callous "OK"...not even an "I'm sorry too." But this is the way of the world in which we live. As sad as it may be, this is the rule, not the exception. But I then think back to St. Francis of Assisi and his wise words to preach the gospel always, and only when necessary to speak words. So I shall continue to go about the business of life and do my best to maintain a calm spirit and to react with kindness, compassion, respect, and understanding. I'll choose this because if being right costs me my integrity, then I'd rather be wrong.

$4.96

At church Sunday Kris encouraged us to feast over the next 50 days...the Great 50 Days to be exact, those following Easter. That's a lovely idea in theory, but what if you were unable to feast? What if you simply did not have the means to participate in this joyous celebration?

This morning on my way to work, I had to stop and get gas. I was initially in a bit of a hurry, and my mind was racing to remember everything I had to do during the day. I stopped at a gas station in my neighborhood, and as I got out of the car to pump my gas I couldn't help but think "ugh, I hope no one asks me for money", which, in my neighborhood is a fairly common occurrence. Sure enough though, as soon as I got out of my car, a gentleman walked up to me and asked for cash. "sir, I'm sorry, but I don't have any cash." which to be fair, i didn't have any. He held out his hands, filled with a few Starlite mints and pocket lint and said "but this is my breakfast. Please will you buy me something to eat? I'll pump your gas for you." How's that for a humbling Wednesday morning?

I finished pumping my gas and took the man inside to get something for breakfast. His request wasn't extravagant by any means. He wanted 2 hot dogs, 2 bags of chips, and a can of soda. This was his feast. It was a grand total of $4.96. I still have the receipt. It's a good reminder of humility, compassion, and kindness.

I sit here in my warm, cozy bed with a hot cup of coffee and the freedom to go anywhere I'd like to eat whatever I choose should I so desire. I can feast as little or as much as I want to, yet this man...his feast is worth more to me than most any other. I learned so much from such a brief exchange, the least of the lessons being that a feast can cost as little as $4.96

it's Easter today, and up until this point i was filled with a great joy far beyond anything that could be manufactured on this earth. there was a fullness there, a wholly enveloping gladness and peace, and thankfulness beyond compare. my heart was filled with all of this, right up until the point when i saw a dear and beloved friend choosing to willfully hurt himself. yes that's a redundant statement. that's the point.
i'm more than willing to grant mercy and grace and even extensive compassion and understanding when people are dealing with some difficult issue. i get it. really. i've had more than my fair share to deal with honestly. yet it never ceases to quite simply break my heart and truly sadden me and break my heart to see people i love inflict pain or maladies upon themselves.
i wonder if this is part of the suffering that we're called to endure as Christians. i doubt it though. but then i think perhaps it is part of learning discipline. perhaps that is more likely. i don't say any of this out of judgment. Lord knows i've dipped into plenty of untoward substances and activities. in fact that may be quite precisely why it saddens me so to see others make the same mistakes i did in the past.
i want to shake these people and walk them through my life so they see what i see. i want them to know the pain that i've known and to realize the impact of their actions. and this is the hardest part...to let them learn on their own and to walk away without a word or thought about it all. because i value relationships so very much, that i just cannot do. and therein lies my heartache...behind the thick walls and stone cold countenance...there the tears fall as i see my friends doing nothing more than causing their own pain.

recently the question was posed about what sort guy i'd go on a date with should he actually have the nerve to ask. that was followed by a point about whether or not the aforementioned guy would have to meet a certain standard or list of criteria. that made me start thinking...what would i put on that list?
i know a lot of people have a very clear cut image of the person they are seeking-much like how most little girls know every detail of their dream wedding prior to age 10. i was never that little girl though. i've never been much of a planner. i'm definitely the proverbial "fly by the seat of your pants" sort of girl, which is okay with me. i see no need to change as i enjoy living my life this way.
but back to this list. i suppose if i had to name specific attributes i'd start with character and integrity. if i were looking for someone, i'd want that person to choose to do the right thing simply because it is in fact the right thing, not because of any sort of acclaim that may come with it, and certainly not because he might feel compelled to do so because others may be watching. i want this theoretical man to do what's right for no other reason than he knows there is no other option.
i want him to be humble. now i don't mean that to read self-deprecating. that's wholly different. i mean that he is not proud or boastful. he puts others far ahead of himself regardless of the cost. he sees self sacrifice as an obvious response to the needs of others because relationships are worth more to him than anything else imaginable. that sort of humility.
hmm...i want him to be kind and gentle, but not so gentle that he's emasculated. gentle with his words because he knows the damage they can do, and kind and merciful in spirit. additionally, i hope he has the patience and wisdom to exercise enormous amounts of grace because God knows i need it.
then on the flip side, i want him to be fun. i want him to have as much zeal for life as i do. i want him to see an adventure in everyday events, and always seek reasons to celebrate. we have one life to live, and i want to live it fully. i don't want to drag around someone who lives vicariously through me. i want him to have his own adventures and stories to tell...and somehow, somewhere along the way our stories can merge.
and i want him to love me. not the novel idea of me, but actually me, with all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies, not despite them, but because of them. i want him to be secure enough to allow me to retain the freedom of being me. which, believe me, i realize that's actually asking for a lot. in turn though, i'd gladly give him the same respect.
lastly, just because i'm terrible with finance, i really need him to be great at it. i can manage fine on my own, but if a family were ever involved, it's all him. i'm glad to relinquish that right.
so that's my list. it sounds simple, but in practice it seems to be quite difficult really. people are tricky too. you have to watch them. at first, a lot of men appear to exhibit these qualities, but it's a facade they put up to try to bag the girl. not to say that girls don't play the same coy games, but the one i want...he won't play any games. he'll shoot straight and be honest to the point it hurts. he won't have to tell me how great he is or how he could fabricate some great relationship with me or anyone else. he won't romance me with silly flowers and gifts because he'll know those things are fleeting. he'll simply be. his actions will speak volumes, and he won't require so many words.

thoughts from the mountain

home is an idea that is incredibly important to me. i'm not sure if it's because i'm deeply relational, or that i yearn for a sense of belonging somewhere. either way, i long for that peace of finding a place to call home.
for the longest time i was certain i'd never feel at home and feel settled unless i moved to NYC. i spent days dreaming of the life i might lead there. now though, looking back over the years, i wonder if perhaps that wasn't because i somehow thought i could hide my past and all of my issues tied to it in the midst of the hustle and bustle and sights and sounds of the city.
when i drove up to NC the other day in the cool, overcast, perfect Ali weather, winding around the curves that snake their way through the Nantahala and past the Cullasaja, the craggy cliffs looming both above and below me, then i knew the mountains will always have my heart, and thus always be my home.
it isn't the mass of rock and stone that holds my heart so closely. no, it's the serene quiet, the peace, and the overwhelming beauty that allows me to settle in and be at rest. just sitting on the deck overlooking the rolling field, in the still quiet of the rainy morning, i am cozy despite the chill in the air. i feel as though i'm enshrouded in a deep, peaceful respite, on that has a slow rolling cadence like a low rumble of thunder.
i can see the thick, grey clouds hanging on the mountain tops. the muted color is broken up ever so slightly by hills dappled with the first greens of spring. in the distance i can hear the waterfall rushing over the smooth, old, worn rocks. the damp breeze gently blows across my face like a gentle kiss. this, yes this, is home.

I have this box of memories that i keep tucked away under my bed. within the pastel colored cardboard confines of this otherwise uninteresting box are years of my life, and moments once forgotten, but always treasured.
you see this box has a card that my dad sent to me one year with flowers for Valentine's Day. Since then, I've received flowers on Valentine's a handful of times, but never have they meant as much as that single little card. Then there is a racquetball that I've kept for years just so I can remember my dad running around and enjoying life. There are pictures of course and some of his old cards from auto auctions. I kept this "fancy" wooden pen set he had at his desk at his dealership. I even have notepaper with old memories written down in my childish handwriting as an attempt to hold on to him forever. Then there is an old birthday card upon which he wrote a reminder to me to never forget him. certainly not the least of all these things is his Bible, well worn as his long, thin fingers used to so often flip through the pages. There are silly pictures he let me draw in the back cover of his Bible, and the front is filled with Bible verse I wrote in there as a child. And then tucked away in Isaiah, my dad's favorite book of the Bible, is a stack of his notes neatly folded, waiting on someone to come back and read them again one day.
these things are not easy to sort through, yet i'll never get rid of them no matter how many times i move and throw things out. these things i will treasure always. but as i flip through the cards and papers, i'm struck by my dad telling me to never forget him. truly i am saddened because i did not ever forget him, but for such a long time, i forgot all he taught me. i can only imagine how disappointed he might have been and how hurt.
these days though as time moves forward and i come back to what i knew all along, i am hopeful to not forget again. i am learning to wait patiently, to come to my own understanding, and to operate out of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. i have learned my lesson. hopefully in the future reminders of my dad will not be met with remorse, but with joy for knowing he would be proud.