Joy of January Day 16: The Joy of Thy Salvation

As my journey has come to a close, though I did not post as much as I would have liked, I have come to a conclusion about joy. There is really only one true steadfast joy, and that can only be found in the Lord. King David said "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation." This is where true joy comes from: salvation. When we meditate and reflect on the joy found in the salvation of our souls through Christ Jesus. How can this not give us joy in all circumstances? 

Still, this joy may no come naturally. Often, it is a fight to keep. 

Today's chapel service was powerful and afterwards I felt a tremendous need to be prayed for. I am going to India this summer, and this message reawakened a holy passion for why I need to go. There are women and children over there suffering under the bondage of slavery. Not only a slavery of the body, but one of the mind and the spirit. A reawakening took place, reminding me that this is where I am meant to shine. I have no adequacy of my own, but only a desperation for the Lord to make his face known. 

The Lord has been speaking a lot to me lately about remembering who I am in him. I know this is the start of that preparation and that anointing to go to India. If I cannot remember whose child I am here in America when it is easy, how can I do it in a foreign country when it is so hard? Indeed, I can't. I feel like this is a lesson I have been taught over and over again. Remember who you are. But I guess, like all lessons, we must have them taught to us over and over again so that they may become ingrained, and each time we are taught this lesson, the more mastery we take over it until we have mastered it fully. I will master this, because the Lord is my strength. 

I am going to name all the confusion about going for what it is. It's been spiritual warfare. That's the truth. It sneaks in, trying to blind us and pull us away from our purpose. 

These are the lies the enemy has been feeding me and the way he has pushed me down: 

-He says that I am socially awkward and unable to make friends

-He says that I am too weak to go into a battle so strong

-He says I am incompetent

-He distracts me into doing rather than being

-He convinces me that if I go I am rejecting my family

-He tells me that if I go I will fail. 

-He tells em that I fail God and that he is disappointed in me. 

Here is the truth. The helmet of salvation and I am claiming this promise over my life: 

-I am the light and people are drawn to me. He has made me as an integral part of the body that is so essential the body cannot function without it. 

- I am a conqueror. I am called. 

-I am equipped

-I have a single mind. Unified into bringing Glory to my heavenly Father

-The Lord sees my family and will protect and guard our relationship. He has built us as a mighty fortress and no matter where I go we will support each other and I am capable of showing love to them no matter where I am at. 

-THe Lord has called me for a purpose I will not fail

-The Lord Loves me. He has given me salvation and I have joy. 

These are the promises I have claimed for my life. These I will guard and protect. They are constantly underattack, but the Lord is raising me up. 

TWANDA!

Joy of January Day 15: Follow Your Dreams

Dreams. There those things you have in your sleep. A dream is a wish your heart makes. A wish. A hope. An aspiration. Something you want to be when you grow up, if you ever grow up. In Spanish it's sueño. In Italian, sogno. And to a little boy dreams are the thing that will change the world. Today this little boy changed my life. Made my life, and he is my joy of the day. My mom posted a video of him on my Facebook page. Have to love moms. Ironically, I had just had listened to my first sermon by Reggie Dabbs, and it was about dreams as well. Dreams are a beautiful thing. They are the purpose the Lord has so deeply ingrained in us, that truly make us come alive.
Joseph was given a dream that he would rule over his brothers, mother, and father. It happened, maybe not the way he thought it would, but it did happen. He surrendered and trusted the Lord and the Lord put him in charge of the kingdom.
David had a dream he would be King. He was anointed. Killed the lion, the bear, and then a giant. Then he was chased around the country by a king who wanted his head on a platter. It didn't happen the way he thought it would, but it did happen.
Elizabeth dreamed of being a mother, but was barren. The Lord gave her the desires of her heart.
A lady I met this summer had a dream on her heart to be a missionary. She got married. Had babies. Did urban ministry. Now she's 70 years old and travelling to the Dominican to have the dreams fulfilled the Lord placed on her heart so long ago.
I think it's time to start praying circles around my dreams. It all starts with a declaration. Here is my dream. Are you ready?
I have a lot of people ask me what my dreams are. They know I'm a passionate person, but really what is it that I would love to do with my life?
Here's what I want to do.

I want to go to India and call to life dreams.
I want to sit among the broken-hearted, the oppressed, the abused and help unlock the potential that is inside them.
I want to work with women and children that are enslaved by the bonds of prostitution and show them they are worth of love.
I have been dreaming of this since I was 8 years old, and it is finally becoming a reality.
I've been invited to work with Project Rescue, an organization that reaches out to those impacted by sexual slavery.
I am going to have to raise $4000 by May. I don't know how this is going to be done, but I know that the Lord will provide. This is an avenue, an open door, the gateway to many future possibilities.
Here we go.
Time to Dream.

Joy of January 14: You are Loved

I am seeking direction on a lot of things. Ha! That's probably what you hear from just about any Senior student at North Central University. We're seeking direction. As our years of childhood have wrapped up, and now the awkward stage of limbo between high school and the real world comes to an end, we can be driven mad by the endless possibilities of what our future holds. I've had more than one panic attack this year. Paralyzed by my fear. I go from here to there like an angry bee trying to calm the chaos after being swatted. If I'm not an angry bee, I'm definitely a busy bee, going from source to source trying to find an answer to what's next. Is there any answer to all the questions I'm asking? I feel directionless, purposeless, senseless, and almost Godless.

Yes. I admit it. Someone has to. I feel like the source of my very being has turned a blind eye as I fall from the palm of his hand. I know this isn't true. I KNOW it, but it doesn't change how I FEEL. In this crazy, chaotic, confusion of a college senior's year, it's easy to feel lost. Alone. So I know I need to seek the Lord,
and that's what I've been doing.
For the past 40 hours I've been fasting and seeking the Lord's will. In this I have been shaken and forced to humble myself in the Lord's presents. I went into this fast seeking the Lord's will. I was seeking direction on the many daunting choices I have to make. I still don't know if I have answer to all of questions, but I do know that one message has been overwhelmingly brought to my attention: You Are Loved.
That is the sentiment I have received, and that is what I will take. The Lord sees me. He sees me all the time. He loves me, even when I don't feel him near. He hears my cry in the midst of my storm. He is Shalom. Jehovah Shalom. The peace in my storm.

For my Psalms and Wisdom Literature class I'm reading the book of Job and from what I've been gathering, the moral of the story is, God is God and I am not. His ways are higher than my ways. His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. Job lost his whole family, his dreams and ambitions were crushed, and all of his possessions stolen in one day. The next day he was covered in boils. Finally, his wife cursed him, and his friends deserted him, but Job was innocent. If an innocent man can be made to suffer such great loss and still be in the palm of God's hand, how can I be out of the palm of God's hand in my minute confusion.
The Lord sees me. He knows me. He loves me. That is all I know and that is enough for now. He has opened doors, and I will be faithful with them, even if it goes beyond all reason.

Joy of January 13: Birthday in a Box

Essential Oils

I have absolutely the best family in the world. They sent their poor, 22 year-old daughter a birthday care package on Saturday, and look what was inside.

Cow Card: Look where neopolitan came from :)

not in the box, but just as valuable was costa rican coffee from the brother. He got it straight off the mountain.


Not Pictured was a pair of owl pajama pants. Soooo cute. Thankful for Family

Joy of January Day 12: Shalom

Shalom. Peace. This is a term the Lord keeps on bringing up in my life this semester. Call it a theme, if you will. This week I am being faced with a lot of hard decisions about my future. There is a lot of unknown and a lot of room to make a decision that could lead to regret or a decision that may lead to the best life ever! However, no one is to know which is which. It's like looking at two doors and you can only choose one to open, and that is your final decision. No turning back. I'm terrified of the unknown. Terrified of the known that with a mystery ending. Shalom.

This is who the Lord has declared himself to me. Jehovah Shalom: My God is Peace. There is only one time when the Lord was referenced in such a way in the scriptures, and that is the attribute ascribed by Gideon. Gideon was the weakest in his family. He was a no body. There was no reason for anyone to look to him as a leader, especially in a time of war, but the Lord called him. In a time when the enemy was on the move, ready to take over the Israeli nation, the Lord called Gideon to lead his army. Gideon questioned God. He asked for sign after sign, and in patience the Lord answered each of Gideon's requests until he accepted and declared Jehovah Shalom. My God is Peace. 
And thus is my God. I am in a time of anxiety. The enemy is on the prowl, with an aim to cause confusion. However, the Lord has called me and my God is Peace. Gideon lead a handful of men against the army of thousands. He did not fight with weapons and destruction, but with a song and a light. This is what the Lord had called him to, and this is the call has placed upon me. Though I am small, I am called to use small, simple things to win the battle against evil. 

When Galadriel asked Gandalf  why the Hobbit he answered, "Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love." 
May my small ordinariness put evil at bay. May those that I come in contact with find courage to defeat their darkness, because my small acts of kindness and love drives out the evil. 
My God is Peace. 

Habakkuk 3:19
"The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights" 

I went to coffee with a wonderful friend today, and she said the Lord had placed this verse in her path this past weekend. Ironically, he had done the same for me. I gave my cheap version of what I thought it meant to me, but when she described her experience with deer, this verse resonated so much more with my spirit. 
She said that deer are light creatures that make their home in the valleys where there is growth. They live in community, do not veer from the path, and are quick to flee evil. They find peace on the mountain top. In the same way, we as people make our homes in the low places. We make them in the valleys and that is where growth happens, but it's also where the ick of life happens. We are made to live in community. We find purpose in the living with others. To have the feet like a deer is to stay on the path of the Lord and to flee evil and find peace on the mountain of the Lord. 

The Lord is my peace. Though my valley may make things hard to see, I know that up on the mountain the Lord sees and in his grace he raises me up to find peace and see things from his perspective. 
Jehovah Shalom. 

Hawaii in the Sky

Yesterday my great grandma, Claudia Carmen went to be with the Lord. It's kind of been a long process knowing this was coming. She has been in a nursing home for a couple years now, and last week she was placed in Hospice care. I loved my Grandma Carmen, and have a lot of good memories of her and my Great Grandpa both. Therefore, I wrote a poem in their honor, but to understand this poem, you have to have to understand a few things about my Great Grandparents.

1. My Great Grandma has been 29 years old for the past 50 years.
2. My Great Grandparents loved cantaloupe.
3. My Grandma always wanted to go to Hawaii. For their 50th Anniversary my Grandpa took her.
4. My Grandpa loved hula dolls (and quite possibly hula girls, but not as much as Grandma).

A long, long time ago
She was 29 years-old
They were sitting on the porch eating cantaloupe
when she told him of her dreams
to sail across the sea
to a place where Oahu means Hello

In the sky,
In the sky,
He promised her they'd fly
to a place where hibiscus flowers grow.
There they'd sit upon the beach,
sipping strawberry daiquiris
when they went to Hawaii in the sky.

One or two years more
she's still 29 years-old,
they had raised some kids who had kids of their own
when he looked at her to speak
"There's a promise I must keep,
to take you where Ohana means Family."

In the sky,
In the sky,
he promised her they'd fly
to a place where there are hula girls galore.
There they walked upon the sand,
he was holding her hand
when they went to Hawaii in the sky.

He loved her 'til the end
when the Lord said unto them,
come now and make paradise your home.
Now they both do rest in peace
Angels play ukulele
and the sand is really made of gold.

In the sky,
In the sky,
Hawaii in the sky
where the leis will never ever die.
There they stroll upon the shore,
on an island ever more
because they live in Hawaii in the sky.

Joy of January Day 11: Dove Chocolates

Today was rough. Let me tell you. One thing lead to another and soon I was an anxious wreck. I woke up exhausted. Then I went to work where, sleepy as all get out, nothing seemed to work right from blinds breaking to books going AWOL(I work in a library). Then I visited my boyfriend at the coffee shop he works at, where I tend to be really picky about my drinks (a permissible, yet shameful flaw) and they ended up making it 3 times. I felt super bad about that and on top of it (maybe even the cause of all this anxiety) Mother nature has chosen to show love to her daughter this week, which means I'm prone to anxiety anyway.
All that being said I had my internship today, and there was a spot of joy. A lady I work with came and brought me dove chocolate. It is very true that the Lord shows love for his children in the big, and small things. Oh how incredibly big the small things really turn out to be.

Joy of January: Orange Possum

At the Christian Community Development Association I saw this tall, beautiful woman wearing her hair all up on her head in dreads with a big thick headband. Every since I laid eyes on her I wanted to find a head band like that. That's exactly what Santa brought me from the Orange Possum. Love that store, and I really kind of love this look. :)

Joy of January Day 10: Spiced Orange Tea

Yes, indeed, Dear Friends,  I am I am still sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. It seems like I'm one day rested and the next day back to needing rest. Maybe if I actually would take a full day to find recovery I would stop fading back into relapse. I guess at least it's Martin Luther King Jr. Day (shout out), so we get school off and I get the joy of watching Disney movies from the couch. Meanwhile, on the stove a sweet, sick bead concoction simmers.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I love celestial orange tea. However, what I dare say I love even more is a strong, home brewed tea that may sit on the stove all day, and leaves the invalid to sip at their leisure. Today I developed my own orange tea brew and have been quite delighted to sip on it all day.

Spiced Orange Tea

2-4 black tea bags

1 orange

whole cloves

cinnamon

ginger

nutmeg

cardamon

honey

water

Slice orange and place in medium pot with tea bags. Cover with water and add 4 whole cloves and a dash each of all other spices. Add a second dash of cinnamon. Drizzle honey in to taste. Bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Enjoy 1 cup at a time. Allow to simmer the rest of the day. I like to pull out one of the orange slices and enjoy it with my tea. Consider it a spiced tea orange. 

Joys of January Day 9: Boiler Room Coffee

There are few things that really warm my soul like the sensation a warm mug of coffee brings to my finger tips. Even better is when I'm enjoying that warm mug in an off-beat, hole-in-the-wall, java joint. Today I enjoyed a steamy brew at the Boiler Room Coffee, located near Steven's Square (one of my favorite places in Minneapolis). I had never actually been to this coffeehouse. However, my man had once brought me a sip while I was at work. The coffee was fantastic, maybe a little bold for my tastes, but still quite wonderful. Still, so much more can be absorbed about a coffee when experience in the ambiance of its home. That's why the man and I decided to venture to the shop today.

The location was a far cry from disappointing as well. The place was artsy and low-key. Located in a hideaway sunken underneath an apartment complex, walking in was a bit like walking into a Hobbit hole (aside from the fact the shop had windows and the door was not round.) Walking in, directly up front is a bar to order both food and drink, pastry case displaying a wondrous supply of wholesome goodness. I didn't have the appetite to try one of these scrumptious delicacies, but I decided I would have to come back for a fair sampling of a muffin or two, maybe with some soup. Instead, this time, I vouched for some coffee.

Traditionally I prefer my coffee tall, strong, and bold, leading me, with little exception, to consistently order a dark roast. However, as I mentioned, Boiler's House Blend ( Full City, nutty in flavor with notes of caramel) is a little too tall, strong, and bold. Therefore I went for the El Jefe (Boiler's French Roast, carrying notes of dark chocolate and a little smoke), and what do you know? Started myself a punch card (a small joy in life)!

View from my table

In a few short seconds my order was up and I wrapped my hands around the heated ceramic. Goosebumps immediately began scurrying up my arms as I drank in the warmth. I lifted the mug up to my lips and took a slow sip. Still, a little strong, and kind of bitter for my tastes. It needed a little doctoring up. Maybe if I would have paired it with one of their fancy waffles. I guess my own remedies would have to suffice. At the condiment bar I poured a smooth stream of half&half, a dash of cinnamon, and a drizzle of honey. Sip. Delicious.

We grabbed a small table in the corner, and I seeped in the surroundings. This place had all the trimmings of a quaint place. A bookshelf filled with games and literature stood tall next to the coffee bar. In front of that sat two comfy couches, parallel and facing each other. Tables for 2-4 were sprinkled a long the perimeter, and a nice forest green lacquered the walls. Rustic and urban collision. Love of Minnesota.

The people and baristas were absolutely beautiful. Friendly hipsters in flannels and cardigans served up the beverages to eccentric artsy urban dwellers of all ages sipped in pleasure. A communal hub at its finest. I could have probably stayed in that corner and people watched all day. Maybe someday I will.

Definitely will be venturing back to Boiler again.

Joy of January Day 8: Being Sick

Cold and flu. Tis the season. I feel like death warmed over. Actually, if I were to be honest, I have a lot week, but I've been plowing through, because it's the first week of classes (even though I don't even have a class until Tuesday). However, today it has hit me. I feel miserable. Is there any real joy in misery? Believe it or not, I have been finding tender snippets of joy even while under the weather.

Comfort Bags Tutorial

1.Comfort packs: A boy on my brother floor last year gave me a set. His mom made them. Little fabric squares stuffed with rice. I zap mine in the microwave for about 2-3 minutes and they smell like poop, but feel like paradise. I put them on my cool feet, cold hands, or on my tummy so that it heats my whole body.

2. Chicken Soup: Santa brought me a crock pot for Christmas, and this is the first day I've really taken the time to use it. Nothing tastes better than chicken soup when I have the flu, so this was a perfect no-work meal.

Peas and Pasta Chicken Soup

1 Bone-in chicken breast

5 cups water

1 Chicken bouillon cube

1 onion, sliced

1/2 package frozen peas

2 cups whole wheat spiral pasta

Thyme

Bay Leaves

Salt 

Pepper

Place chicken in crock pot and cover with water. Add bouillon and onion. Cookon high for about 3-3 1/2 hours. Chicken should fall right off the bone. Remove bone and add peas, pasta, and seasonings. Cook on high for another hour. Nurse yourself back to health as you enjoy! 

This movie is so beautiful. I won't ruin it for you, but
it's a must see. Watch! It's impossible to be disappointed
with such a work of art. 

3. Old Movies: For real, being sick is a great time to dust off the VCR and watch all of those old classics (either actual classics or childhood favorites you now consider classics). My sick-bed movie list: 

1. My Fair Lady

2. An Affair to Remember

3. Casablanca

4. Little Women

5. The Emperor's New Groove (Watching this with the roomie tonight, another reason to have joy)

6. While You Were Sleeping

7. Runaway Bride

8. Fried Green Tomatos

9. The Cutting Edge

10. Sleepless in Seattle

Choose your own favorite

4. Drugs: Lemon Cough Drops, Emergen-C, IBProfene

5. Tea!: Oh what splendid goodness is found in mug that steams to warm the inside. Green, black, white, herbal. All of it is fantastic! I think my favorite are probably Orange Spice flavors.  

Indeed, winter must be very cold for those with no warm memories. -An Affair to Remember

Joy of January Day 7: Prayer

Prayer.

What is it?

As January marches onward, churches and Christian non-profits are leading their fellowships in weeks of prayer and fasting, seeking the Lord's face for this next year. What does that even mean? I have been participating in an organization's prayer week this past week and next week my church will be holding a week of fasting. Striving to be committed to prayer I have ventured to my school's prayer room a couple times this week, participated in corporate prayer, and even just sat in my room, all with the intentions of praying. However, every time I sit down to pray, I am hit with the unnerving realization that I literally have nothing to say. My mind is blank. Exhausted by my day in and day out thinking, I simply sit there with absolutely nothing to say. I know I could make something up to force out, but then it would be just that: forced, and can forced prayer really be considered real prayer?

If I were to revert to my young Sunday School days I would know that Prayer is the act of talking with God. It's supposed to be a conversation with me and the most high. I've also heard it's supposed to be a time of laying down one's burdens. Still, others have claimed it's when we tell the Lord our concerns with the anticipation of his answer. I have heard prayers of petition, claim, and intercession. Nonetheless, this last week I have been dumbfounded about the idea of prayer. If prayer is supposed to be me talking with God, and I sit down and have nothing to say, am I doing it right?

I have been questioning, mulling the topic over and over in my head. Then tonight I went to a prayer vigil. Seeking direction, but unsure how, I simply decided I was open to being taught how to pray by the Lord. The Prayer room was dimly lit by various lamps, and had 6 stations to focus on different aspects of prayer. There was a small group of us gathered for a corporate prayer and as soon as Amen was said we dispersed around to the different stations.

Everyone else took a station until there was only one left, and this was the one I was left to. It was the communion station. A pile of pillows, a Bible, a Lutheran Liturgy, and the Eucharist. I sat down on a large pillow and pulled my knees up to my chest. That's when I noticed a sheet of paper off to the side. "Teach us how to pray" it ready, followed by the Lord's prayer. Irony reeked in this station as I read the words:

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors.
Lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil,
for thine is the kingdom,
and the power and the glory forever.
Amen.

The words were sweet upon my lips as clarity filled my mind. I had seen the light and I read the words with a  new meaning. This was my prayer.

Abba,
You are sovereign.
In all things your will is done,
and I submit myself to your will.
You love me and will provide for me,
and even when I fail you forgive me,
which enables me to forgive others.
Protect, guide me, and lead me,
so that I may stay firm in your righteousness,
and not be swayed to the left or right from your path.
Every thing was made by you and for you and always will be.
Let it be.

Prayer is not merely confession, petition, or meditation, although these may all be components. Instead, the very essence of prayer is the alignment of our beings with the will of God. It is the admittance that although our situation may not conclude with an ending we deem as good, the Lord's purposes are greater than ours. Therefore, we surrender our ideas of good to a higher good regardless of where this may steer our destiny.
The Lord is sovereign and he will work his purposes with or without our submission. Therefore, let us submit, because we are but a drop while he is the ocean in the framework of time. He created the ocean, the framework, and the time by himself and for himself, and thus created the drop. May we surrender to the greatness that is beyond ourselves that we may find fullness in the Lord.

Joy of January Day 6: Intimacy

There's something about living in community. Living in an apartment kind of forces you to be all up in someone's business, and them in yours. You don't have a choice, because you are literally living, "doing life," with these people you call your roommates. An intimacy develops, one that's unavoidable, because you are constantly surrounded by these people. Some people have good roomie situations. In other words, they get really close, and become friends, supporting, encouraging, and loving one another. Others...well, not so much. There's either constant bickering, or even worse, they don't say anything at all. Problems have escalated to the point where they are unavoidable, unreconcilable, and therefore unmentioned.

What is the difference between these two relationships? Are they really that different? Do the ones that get along really have that much in common and the ones that don't are worlds apart? A few years ago the Lord took me on a journey into discovering what his church, his people, are called to be. The main concept that really stuck out to me was that we are called to be the image of God. When John of Damascus fought for Iconoclasm in the orthodox church he claimed that just as Christ was the icon of God, we are the icon of Christ and therefore God on this earth. This is a major responsibility.

We are to be the representative of God!

Just as any representative, people understand the person we represent by the way we interact with them. How we relate to people is interpreted as the actions of the one who has sent us. Therefore, when we interact with others in our community, we are giving them a depiction of what God is like. People see us, and we are painting a picture for them of what the Lord is like. 

We are all given a community in which we are made to reflect the Lord to. How we relate to the Lord is often reflected in how we relate to others. When we have our defenses up, quick to lash out, could it be that our defenses are up against the Lord, trying to keep him out? However, when we are vulnerable with others, able to admit we have faults and display a willingness to work on them, that  reflects an openness to the Lord, and willingness to have him shape us, because we are firmly planted in his love. 

Living with roommates consequentially causes intimacy. Intimacy can be uncomfortable. In vulnerabilities rubbing up against each other and tearing us raw. All of our flaws, hurts, and shadow natures are exposed. Defenses rise and are ready to rip the soul out of those closest to us. This is called sanctification. Our true natures, dirty and malicious are torn open so that can be seen and made righteous. We become purified through the weeding out of our ugliness. Intimacy allows us to be set free from the bondage of our own wickedness. It allows for change in areas we were unaware of so that we may be sanctified in to a clearer perception of Christ. 

I thank the Lord that I have been placed with roommates that push me to be more like Christ everyday. I pray that my apartment would be blessed this upcoming semester as we all pursue a deeper intimacy in the Lord to become more transformed in his likeness. 

Joy of January Day 5: Prayer Room

Be still and know that I am God.- Psalm 46:10. As my roommates and I have progressed through out the year, we have talked about how this is tending to be a theme in our live. The act of waiting on the Lord. The discipline of finding tranquility and peace in the palm of his hand. In our busy, senior-year lives, it's sometimes difficult to find peace and joy. Anxiety arises, making everyone tense, fuses get short, and defenses come rolling to the front line. Half way through last semester my roommates and I decided to build a prayer room. Of all the places on campus, I may be able to say that this is my favorite place. Constructed from various accumulated items from each member of our apartment family, and some nifty sheets I found on Freecycle.org, this has become a place of solitude, refuge, and a gateway to Shalom. 

Pillows: The pillows that came with the sheet set were white. Now they're journal pillows where I collect my favorite verses from the Bible, recording my walk with the Lord this year. 

A collection plate to hold our sharpies. I received this as a gift from a girl on my floor last year. I was an RA and she came to my room, carrying this dish she had decorated in her small group. Suddenly she stopped, and said, I think the Lord wants you to have this. This is your story. Tears sprung to my eyes as I read the words. Every single verse had been spoken to me that year, and this plate encapsulated my year with the Lord.
Also Pictured is an electric candle I bought at a thrift store and modge podged with vintage book paper. 

A quaint heart, door hanger contributed by my roommate. 

Sticky notes containing prayer requests

Finished product: This is placed in a small hallway leading to the backdoor of our apartment. No one ever uses the backdoor, and in fact, it doesn't even have a number, so no one would know to knock on that door even if we did use it. We choose to keep it locked and use it as a prayer closet instead. 

Joy of January Day 4: Ten Little Indians by Sherman Alexie

Reading is one of those simple pleasures I enjoy. I love the feel of crisp paper ruffling under my finger tips as I turn the page. The smell of creativity, opinion, and vocabulary all intertwined in the form of the written word  just captivates me in a way few things can. I especially enjoy a piece that makes me think; that makes me question the very darkest crevices of my mind that I otherwise would leave unattended. There is a way that a well written piece of literate can transcend all conceptions of truth and shed light onto a deeper meaning.
Thus is the effect of Ten Little Indians bySherman Alexie. Ten Little Indians illustrates the dignity and value of simply being human, and calls for a reexamination of justice in society.

Ten Little Indians is a compilation of ten short stories about Spokane Native Americans living in the Seattle area. Alexie, himself a member of the Spokane tribe, brings into focus the issues faced by modern day Native Americans. Alexie's simple, yet well-developed characters are the average person. They strip away the dignity found in mysticism most White people attribute to Native Americans, and restore a truer dignity found in the essence of being human. His characters do not live extraordinary lives. Indeed, they seem to be the Average Joe, Dick, and Harry, struggling with issues that modern day Native Americans face such as racism, mystical attribution, and White power. However, he also emphasizes the redemptive work in small acts of kindness, such as hearing someone's story, unconditional acceptance, and genuine compassion.

In my devotions today I read Micah 6:8, "The Lord has shown you what is good: act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." I feel  Alexie has captured the essence of this passage in his book Ten Little Indians.

Acting justly has less to do with the court system then it does with how we treat people in everyday living. A mentor once described to me that "the only way to have a truly just difference is if everyone walked around we a blindfold. We would never see each other's differences, and therefore everyone would be treated the same." To truly live in justice, we must stop seeing people in the light of who we think they are, do to differences and generalities, and accept one another for who we really are. Alexie displays this by uncovering the mysticism White people generally associate with Native American people, and how damaging this can be to the intrinsic worth of a person. Instead of being viewed as a friend, the Native American becomes a guru, or source of spiritual guidance.


By definition, mercy is a lenient compassion. These acts of love and mercy are displayed by Alexie in a gift to a homeless Native American, sharing a meal and hearing the story of a stranger, giving love to an adulterous wife. These are all acts of mercy, which we can learn from. How hard is it to sit and actually listen to someone? So often in social situations we are so busy checking Facebook from our phone that we miss the really meat of life that is sitting right before us. We waste the opportunity to dive into real life with another human being. When we see a man on the street corner we assume the worst. We refuse to spare a dollar, afraid he will waste it. What happened to the belief in human goodness? Early in chapel this year, Jake Smith made the statement, "When we focus on our rights that leads to rebellion. When we focus on our responsibility it leads to relationship." If we focused on our responsibility to a relationship, rather than how the other person has fallen short, hurt us, and abuse our rights in the relationship, could it be possible there may be less separation and divorce rates in America. Maybe a lifelong friend wouldn't be so hard to find after all.

Finally, to walk humbly with God. In the Native American context, this would mean as much as White people to admit we were and still are wrong. We have committed a devastating crime against the Native American people. We walked into their grandmother's house, raped their sisters and daughters, locked them in the closet, and now feed them scraps from underneath the door. Is this what we call justice? Is this what we call mercy? What about an apology? I think that's the least that could be offered. Meanwhile we teach our children that Christopher Colombus was the first people to discover America. Hello!? As if NATIVE doesn't spell out that someone found before him. In American history classes we teach on that Native Americans took captive White people, scalping them, and eating their babies. Could someone please tell the truth about how the white people desecrated their sacred grounds, marched them miles upon miles from their homeland, and locked them in concentration camps. Minnesota has one of the worst cases I've ever seen. Fort Snelling, presently known to be a historic military base for the United States Army lies between Downtown Minneapolis and the Mall of America. This base is known to be a prominent piece of Civil War history. What they don't tell you about the fort is one of the worst genocides in U.S. history took place on this land. Want to know why they called it Fort Snelling.  During the great herding of Native Americans from their homeland, to an area away from "White Man's Territory" they locked a whole tribe away in this fort. During that winter, many Native Americans died. As you may or may not know, the burial of a deceased love one is a sacred ceremony in the Native American culture. However, due to the ground being frozen, they were unable to preform these ceremonies. They were forced to pile the bodies up where they froze for the rest of the winter. When Spring came, the bodies began to reek of death. Hence, the soldiers began to call it Fort Smelling, which eventually evolved into Fort Snelling. No propper burial was ever provided. Today we have birthday parties upon that ground. Birthday's on a mass grave.

WOULD IT BE TOO MUCH TO ASK TO TAKE THE FORT DOWN?

At least put up a Memorial. However, I guess if that's too much to ask them a simple I'm sorry may suffice for now. What if we really did take the time to say I'm sorry. What if we really did humble ourselves and admit that we have been wrong? Not only for the Native Americans, but for those around us who we wrong daily in our average, ordinary lives. Maybe that's too much to ask. 

Sherman Alexie's Ten Little Indians is a fantastic advocacy tool for the cause of Native American and interpersonal justice. Ten Little Indians renders a picture of the beauty in mere humanity, and provokes a restructuring of justice in our day-to-day lives. 

Joys of January Day 3: Coffee from a Roomate

A rich and sweet caramel flavored coffee experience provided by my roommate.

Coffee.

There's something about this 

                                         sultry 

                                            smooth 

                                                 delight 

                                                      that tantalizes the taste buds, 

                                      swooning the soul into sweet meditation. 

Crunch. Grind. 

             The aromatic melody 

                            of coffee bean 

                                welcoming the morning light. 

Pop. Chug. 

        The steam of water boiling, 

                             Pouring over and

                               brewing morning smiles. 

Coffee. 

Hand wrapped around a 

                                  warm 

                                      comforting 

                                                   hug

                                                       that embraces the weary dreaming 

                                   who must bid his dreams good bye. 

Coffee. 

This is my poem. Thanks, Roomie, for the inspiration. 

Joys of January Day 2: Green Chicken Soup

Green Chicken Soup

I was listening to my favorite National Public Radio yesterday (don't laugh, there are good people who actually listen to that junk, and I'm one of them), when a cooking show came on at about 3 o'clock. On the show they had a special guest speaker talk about her vegetarian green soup. Intrigued and loving soup (especially in January) I listened closer as the lady explained how she made this soup. Inspired and needing a little joy today, I figured a good bowl of hearty soup would be the best supplement to a cold winter's day.

Green Chicken Soup

1 Large Bone-in Chicken Breast (I'm sure you could just use boneless, but that really does take away half the fun, and bone-in adds a richer flavor to the broth)

5 Cups Water

1 chicken bouillon cube

1 medium onion

1 Tablespoon olive oil

1 Tsp sea salt

1 Large bunch fresh spinach

cayenne pepper (to taste)

In a Large Soup Pot Place the chicken and cover with the 5 cups water (add more water if needed). Add bouillon cube and bring to boil. Boil on medium until chicken is fully cooked. Meanwhile slice onion into rings. Place in hot skillAet, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt. Cook on low heat until caramelized. When chicken is fully cooked, remove from broth and add caramelized onions to broth. Add Spinach and allow to simmer uncovered. Skin chicken, tear bite-sized pieces of meat off the bone, and add to pot. Season with cayenne pepper to taste. Simmer on low for 10 minutes. Enjoy!

Makes 4 Servings. 

Per Serving: 

100 Calories - 1 g Saturated Fat - 495 mg Sodium

Joy of January Day 1: Coffee with Dad

So...No, I didn't exactly get a picture of my coffee from this morning, or my Dad. However, this is a picture I took this summer of my really awesome breakfast and really yummy coffee and I figured that a mildly irrelevant visual was better than no visual at all.

"Love is accepting someone for who they are, all they are, and not trying to change them, because every part of them is a gift from God."

This is a quote from my dad, taken from a conversation we had a couple weeks back. I asked him what his best relationship advice was. That's what he answered. Accept even what we view as unacceptable, because it is a gift from God. This must be on his mind, because our conversation today focused on the same premises, except outside of a romantic relationship, and more focused on the community of the church. 

Earlier this year, there was about a month where I could not keep a conversation to save my life. Anytime I would spend time with anyone from what I would like to call "white suburbia" I would inevidably say something inappropriate and ultimately make myself look like the social outcast I already felt I was. Shocked stares would glare me down and I became overwhelmed with a sense of shame. Then it struck me. If this, as a believer who has been in the church since birth, feel this amount of shame hanging out with these so-called Christians, what is the draw to go to church for the rough-background, single mom, living in the ghetto who can't say a sentence with out a swear word? I have the love of the Lord to pull me through these sticky feelings of shame, guilt, and embarassment so that I can tackle one awkward moment after another, but what about her. Is it any wonder that people turn and walk the other way when only condemnation seeps from the church? It's about time that the church lost this mentality of "you have to be like us for us to accept you." In the early monastic peariod of the church, monastaries were built as a refuge for the wonderer. They would take every lowly person that came to their doorstep in. They would give them a meal, a new pair of clothes, chate with them, invite them to participate, and as a result the stranger would be won for the Lord. What a novel idea that people change when they feel accepted most. 

At my summer job we had a term called mission and shadow. Your mission is what you feel you've been placed on this earth to do. Your shadow is what keeps you from that. I feel my mission is to unconditionally accept everyone in hopes that they may experience genuine love. My shadow is insecurity of my own flaws and inability to accept myself, which causes me to conform and lose myself. I often think this is the shadow of the church. 

We become so insecure about being able to please the Lord, that we make a list of rule and laws that ensure we're on the right path and anytime anyone that pushes that ideal comes into our lives, we condemn, not wanting to be swayed. 

I feel its about time we laid down our defenses and took up the arms of love and acceptance, look on ourselves we grace, and find our true selves in the love of the Lord, that we may extend his love to the world. 

The Joy of January

Sitting across the table from that little girl in McDonald's, her snacking on a hot fudge sundae, and I on a yogurt parfait. I never expected our conversation to turn the way it did. I was quite shocked when this little girl claimed, "I just have a lot of bitterness in my heart."
What do you even say to that? All I could think was you are maybe 13 years old. Do you even know what that word means? Yet those were the words she said. She wanted my advice, and I didn't know what to tell her.
We've all felt bitterness. I know this is true. It's the gurgling overflow of anger and unforgiveness, spilling over the walls of our hearts and threatening to destroy our every day lives.
After leaving that conversation, I  began to reflect. What is bitterness? And more importantly, how do I deal with it?
I kind of narrowed this broad topic down to a nutshell: All bitterness starts with a seed of anger. This anger is usually derived from pain or frustration with ourselves or others. When we let this anger build it soon begins to harden and begin to shape our choices, our motives, our values, and our very identity.  We become angry with a person, because they hurt us. Or maybe, we're angry with ourselves because we didn't respond to a situation in a way we wish we would. We become overwhelmed with shame. Both of these situations lay a great frame work for bitterness, because we see the problem and it bugs us. We can't get our minds off it, and it consumes us.
An example of this takes place in every day community living. I am sharing an apartment with two of the greatest people in the world. However, one thing that can really tick me off and become a source of bitterness is cleaning. This is a chore in any living situation.However, in my living situation I have two roommates and all three of us have very different ideas on what it means to clean. This creates misunderstanding, tensions, and a lot of unsaid concerns. At the beginning of the semester this wasn't a big problem. It was easy to still see the good hearts of my roommates, and over all love living with them. However, as the semester progressed and tension grew negativity began to invade even the positive perceptions I previously possessed. It got to the point where I had a melt down almost everyday, because I was angry at one roommate or the other for one reason or another.
In retrospect I see a few lessons I could use to learn. for one, I began to dwell so heavily on the cleanliness of the apartment that I lost sight of the other aspects to my roommates that really make them great people and a joy to live with. Secondly, I never let all of the negativity build up until I could really no longer function.
Looking at this I feel like I now have an answer for that little girl in McDonald's. Bitterness is a choice. We choose our perception. We can choose to look at the positive or the negative. However, this takes practice, and when all we can see is the negative in a situation we don't always respond in the most uplifting manner. Instead, we snap, lash out, and can become very angry. At this point we have another choice. We can let our anger brew or let it go and move on.
There is a beautiful thing about mornings. They happen every day, and just like morning is the start for the new day, it is also a new start for us. It is a fresh start to our perceptions, thoughts, and feelings. It is a time where we can wipe away the old of yesterday and put on a new and clearer vision of the good the Lord has placed in this world. This also takes practice.
Being that I have mentioned two things that need practice I think I'm going to start practicing them. 1) I want to see joy in my apartment everyday. There are 20 days left in January. Therefore, it is my goal to find and document (aka photograph) something I find joyful and positive about my life everyday until the end of January. 2) I'm going to practice moving on. When I get angry often times I also take on the emotions of shame and guilt. It is so hard to give myself grace, and therefore give grace to others. I am going to practice making everyday new by praising the Lord for that spot of joy in my life and discarding the negative.

It's my choice what I focus on, and if our focus determines our values and in the end our life, I only want to focus on the good. So January Joys, here we go. Stay tuned for a blessing a day.