It is Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 and I crawled out of bed to watch the inauguration. We are in Seattle and I see thick fog and evergreens through the plantation shutters at dan and kristie's house. I curl up on the couch under blankets and watch the cameras roll. I'm proud and I'm teary. An estimated 2 million people are there to see it happen. I remember discussions with friends about whether we would ever see a black president in our lifetime. I had thought probably not. I liked the speech. It was inclusive, global, and strong. Obama directly addressed Muslims in the world which we need to do. He seemed nervous, uncharacteristically stumbling as he took the oath. His wife, Michelle, was decked out in a dress that made me think of royalty - yellow gold with jewels and a jacket like a robe. I was happy for them and their kids. I liked the poetry. I loved the prayer by a very old black preacher.
Now I'm watching them walk down pennsylvania avenue hand-in-hand, gloriously happy and waving to everyone. It seems sincere and down to earth somehow pulled off with the air of royalty, sophistication, and beauty. Obama has a magenta scarf hanging around his neck. It is kingly. They are beautiful and beautiful to watch. People are tens deep trying to get a glimpse. And I am in someone else's home eating a cheeseburger with delicious peppered bacon and salty french fries. The Obamas are back in their limo and people are now singing/chanting Obama as they drive by. . .
I tried to change the channel, but I can't figure out how to. So I am on my 4th hour of inauguration coverage. The last time I sat glued to the TV like this was during 911. What a contrast that day is to this one. I feel hope instead of fear. I am happy instead of sad.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
island
i've always wanted to spend some time on a tiny beautiful island with white sand, palm trees, and calm clear blue water all around. i've thought to myself, "that's all i'd really need." and in some ways, i found that to be true when we docked at tiny sibuan island in the sulu sea. it was picturesque to say the least and i wanted to build a hut and stay - at least for a week.
after checking in with the military men stationed there (an odd sight), and learning that i was to ask before i snapped any pictures of their machine guns, our captain, nicknamed "lips," pulled up to shore and we splashed into the water as we climbed out. we were greeted by smiling curious children whom i later learned ran a modest, but profitable, coconut business. i later saw tiny brown arms and legs wrapped around incredibly tall skinny trees as children skillfully climbed into the fronds. i stared for quite a while and watched as coconuts dropped to the ground in the waist-high grass below. i loved it. i felt shy at first like an intruder and wondered if we were a nuisance. it was a very small island after all and people actually lived there. i wouldn't want people walking feet from my house every day and trying to look inside or asking to take my picture. i wonder if it gets old for them or if they like having the world come to them out in the middle of the sea. the latter seemed more true to me. they were much kinder than i think i would be in their situation.
it was one of the most primitive places i have been. they had shelter, but they did not have what i would call houses. they seemed to barely notice the rain that i felt the need to take cover from. they were comfortable in the water and on the water. the kids swam without supervision and took boats out on their own. some even lived on their boats. in a material sense, they lived very simply. and it was appealing in an idealistic kind of way. very little stuff to crowd your life or distract you from people and relationships. yet is also seemed like every sound and action could be seen and heard by your neighbors. i wondered if they all got along or if they drove each other crazy. i wondered where they went to the bathroom, and if they were happy with their circumstances. i wondered if living there was as lovely as it seemed to be.
after checking in with the military men stationed there (an odd sight), and learning that i was to ask before i snapped any pictures of their machine guns, our captain, nicknamed "lips," pulled up to shore and we splashed into the water as we climbed out. we were greeted by smiling curious children whom i later learned ran a modest, but profitable, coconut business. i later saw tiny brown arms and legs wrapped around incredibly tall skinny trees as children skillfully climbed into the fronds. i stared for quite a while and watched as coconuts dropped to the ground in the waist-high grass below. i loved it. i felt shy at first like an intruder and wondered if we were a nuisance. it was a very small island after all and people actually lived there. i wouldn't want people walking feet from my house every day and trying to look inside or asking to take my picture. i wonder if it gets old for them or if they like having the world come to them out in the middle of the sea. the latter seemed more true to me. they were much kinder than i think i would be in their situation.
it was one of the most primitive places i have been. they had shelter, but they did not have what i would call houses. they seemed to barely notice the rain that i felt the need to take cover from. they were comfortable in the water and on the water. the kids swam without supervision and took boats out on their own. some even lived on their boats. in a material sense, they lived very simply. and it was appealing in an idealistic kind of way. very little stuff to crowd your life or distract you from people and relationships. yet is also seemed like every sound and action could be seen and heard by your neighbors. i wondered if they all got along or if they drove each other crazy. i wondered where they went to the bathroom, and if they were happy with their circumstances. i wondered if living there was as lovely as it seemed to be.
i forgot, but . . .
i love the bible. i remembered in a dirty little town called semporna after grabbing a paperback 7th grade church camp freebie that i threw in my suitcase on a whim with some highlighters. i love highlighting and underlining in books. that's how i make them mine. whole pages are sometimes bright yellow which seems absurd and necessary at the same time. i love dragging the bright color across the words i like as a i take them in to keep.
as i read, i felt spiritually hungry for the first time in a long time. i started reading and i didn't want to stop. i read voraciously which is cool, because i've always liked the image of a voracious reader and wouldn't say i've ever qualified before. no matter how much i read i felt full when i stopped each day. some days it was 10 minutes, some days an hour. every time was good. it was nourishing. it was comforting. it was awe-inspiring, stimulating, and confounding. it was fun. i put fluorescent green and pink question marks in the margins when something just didn't make sense. there were so many question marks. the bible is maddeningly vague, cryptic, and strange. but somehow that served to draw me in even more. it seemed like i was reading a new book, even though i've read it quite a bit before. i was caught by new words, new phrases, and those that have been dear to me in the past seemed layers deeper in meaning and truth. i had a strong impression that i am the one who has changed. but i found that i have not outgrown my bible. it feels more like i am still growing into it.
i used to fall asleep trying to read my precious moments bible on my bed as a teenager. i remember making myself read every name in the impossibly long genealogies of the old testament thinking i was supposed to mine some truth and meaning from them. and i guess i was afraid God would think i was cheating if I didn't read every word and that he would be disappointed with me. that makes me laugh now like a lot of my spiritual efforts of the past. they were sincere and ridiculous.
now i am back in seattle and for the life of me i can't find my flimsy paperback bible. i feel sad and frustrated. i want a dose and cannot find it. then i forget again until the next time i search. where is it? where did it go? i know i packed it. did i leave it on the plane? will someone find my easter-egg colored book and wonder what crazy person left it there? will someone else find it, read it, and be drawn in? i wonder.
so i think i'll walk to the used bookstore and find another forgotten bible on their shelves just ripe for a highlighting. i actually hope i'll do this until the day i die or until the day that it is indelibly written on my heart. i think that is what i am trying to do - get more of it written inside of me and available to me 24/7. i want the words and phrases to fill my mind when i need them - when i need courage to act, perspective on humanity, reassurance that God has a handle on the situation, when i need comfort, direction, kind words, and to feel known and understood. it's a tall order, but it is a big book. it claims to be living and active and so far i have found it so. it has helped me to have bits and pieces stored up for life. they stream into my mind at just the right time. sometimes they make me nicer than i usually am. i fear a little less. they are communion for my mind. they are more than that - communication with/from/to God. i feel connected. and now i feel untethered without them. i wish i could find my bible again.
as i read, i felt spiritually hungry for the first time in a long time. i started reading and i didn't want to stop. i read voraciously which is cool, because i've always liked the image of a voracious reader and wouldn't say i've ever qualified before. no matter how much i read i felt full when i stopped each day. some days it was 10 minutes, some days an hour. every time was good. it was nourishing. it was comforting. it was awe-inspiring, stimulating, and confounding. it was fun. i put fluorescent green and pink question marks in the margins when something just didn't make sense. there were so many question marks. the bible is maddeningly vague, cryptic, and strange. but somehow that served to draw me in even more. it seemed like i was reading a new book, even though i've read it quite a bit before. i was caught by new words, new phrases, and those that have been dear to me in the past seemed layers deeper in meaning and truth. i had a strong impression that i am the one who has changed. but i found that i have not outgrown my bible. it feels more like i am still growing into it.
i used to fall asleep trying to read my precious moments bible on my bed as a teenager. i remember making myself read every name in the impossibly long genealogies of the old testament thinking i was supposed to mine some truth and meaning from them. and i guess i was afraid God would think i was cheating if I didn't read every word and that he would be disappointed with me. that makes me laugh now like a lot of my spiritual efforts of the past. they were sincere and ridiculous.
now i am back in seattle and for the life of me i can't find my flimsy paperback bible. i feel sad and frustrated. i want a dose and cannot find it. then i forget again until the next time i search. where is it? where did it go? i know i packed it. did i leave it on the plane? will someone find my easter-egg colored book and wonder what crazy person left it there? will someone else find it, read it, and be drawn in? i wonder.
so i think i'll walk to the used bookstore and find another forgotten bible on their shelves just ripe for a highlighting. i actually hope i'll do this until the day i die or until the day that it is indelibly written on my heart. i think that is what i am trying to do - get more of it written inside of me and available to me 24/7. i want the words and phrases to fill my mind when i need them - when i need courage to act, perspective on humanity, reassurance that God has a handle on the situation, when i need comfort, direction, kind words, and to feel known and understood. it's a tall order, but it is a big book. it claims to be living and active and so far i have found it so. it has helped me to have bits and pieces stored up for life. they stream into my mind at just the right time. sometimes they make me nicer than i usually am. i fear a little less. they are communion for my mind. they are more than that - communication with/from/to God. i feel connected. and now i feel untethered without them. i wish i could find my bible again.
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