Friday, March 17, 2017

fresh start

all the time
i think,
post apocalypse,
or just one good emp,
and all the digital record will be gone.
i should write on paper,
i think,
but then it might be good,
i think,
to start fresh.

Bio-Degrading

I've been at the Bargain Box for a good, long time now ~ certainly long enough to say which of our problems are bigger than others.  Here's a list I'm working on:

- determine the problems in order of priority
- solve the problems in like order

Our ministry and our business issues ebb and flow like most things in life, but there's one particular thing, one solid pattern I've noticed through the years, and it's this:  if anyone ever gets the idea that we are throwing something away, there's a nearly instant sense of insult and injustice.

Please, no one person should feel I'm pointing directly.  It's been at every opportunity, I've noticed, whether I post to our page, or say something out loud, or carry something to the dumpster:

"Are you throwing that away?  Are you seriously just throwing that away?!  There's probably some homeless shelter nearby that could use that stuff.  Or an animal shelter.  Or a ... just ... anything, but throw it away!  That's just shameful."

I've learned to count to ten, remind myself that you just don't know what you don't know.

Here's another list of things we either have done or currently do with things we cannot sell:

- throw it away
- give it to homeless shelters
- give it to animal shelters
- give it elder care centers
- give it to Goodwill so they can bail it
- make grab bags so that folks can buy 20-40 articles of clothing for $1
- recycle every possible thing we can

But somebody's gonna stop at "throw it away."

We're in the season of Lent now, and people understand Lent in different ways.  For some people, it means they're getting rid of stuff, and that's really great.  We like it when people bring us their stuff, because selling it is how we support missions all around the world.

Take the 40 Bags in 40 Days Challenge1, just for instance.  In our particular case, lots of local folks are participating, and so lots of folks are bringing us lots of stuff.  At times, we have more stuff than we have the manpower to manage, and so we have to make some choices.  Refer to that last list.  I am regularly calling on our other sources to take some of our stuff, but guess what.  They also regularly have too much stuff.

One of my favorite things about Jesus was the way that he answered questions.

"Why's that guy blind?"
"Can't I just put her out?"
"Why's that woman wasting the good stuff?"
"Who do you think you are?"

He almost always answered with his own question and the question usually pointed to something that the seeker already knew.  It wasn't that people didn't know the answers.  It was that they didn't want to deal with them.








1 This girl's totally on the right track.  I recommend her articles.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Housekeeping

A real writer probably would have pushed his pain through the pen, but I think no longer that's my calling in life.  Much can change in a year.

Found a new blogger who said,

where has she gone?  i suspect she is living.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Language Arts

photo source:  internet


you know that stupid-a$$ cliche'* meme about always being kind because everybody's fighting some kind of battle?


*(do I sound angry?
i think i sound angry.*)





but don't we all know this by now?

that we should always be kind?
that everybody's dealing with some kind of something?

but then

i want to shake people in the grocery store*:
"do you know what has happened?!"

[(*have i used this line before?)
(nothing under the sun is truly new. Ecc 1:9)]

and then 

i think about all the things i probably don't know about you

and then

about the things i do know

and how i've just lost touch

while i'm dealing with my own kind of whatever.

this has been a hard-a$$ couple of months, and

i'm really grateful for all the people who speak my language, and
who are kind and patient and forgiving when i use words that i shouldn't.

i pray to be as kind to you.



*i'm really not angry ~ not right this second, 
but (obviously) i've had to deal with angry.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Going The Distance

This'll only take a minute, and it won't be too awful bad, I think, but it needs doing because, you know, I have to do what I do.

...

I keep setting my glass down ~ so hard the water spills over ~ and blurting through tears at my husband, "but why?!"

Why was there so much distance between us?

We keep having this same conversation.
I keep reaching the same conclusions.
I keep finding my peace til the heartache rises up again.

Supposedly, time will slow this cycle.
I actually know that it will. ...

I've lost my sister now.  My little sister.  My only sister.

How did this happen?  I turned around for just a second...

But that's not the truth.  For many of these last years, there was a battle ~ I can't really say that we were opponents, but it was ~ between us.  Neither of us would be the victor in this lifetime, but that's for another time.

The point is that there was a distance between us, and since she's left me, I've sought the source and evidence of it.  In all my searching, however, I keep coming to peace.

It's a cycle.

Some days I feel weirdly okay, am a little freaked out even, by my ability to smile.

Other days.
It's as if my cord has unraveled.
Strands are missing.
I won't be complete again in this lifetime.
Selah.

...

I've always believed my momma and Jenny's friends knew her best.  But I've realized in these last days that I actually knew her better than I ever realized.  And so, in all likelihood, it was a mutual familiarity.  I actually know that it was. ...

I haven't written much lately for a number of reasons, but when I first attempted this, I looked over recent posts.  Nearly one year ago, I wrote this piece.  Finding it in recent days is how I finally know why I do this.  I don't even feel the need to explain.

My sister had a gift for photography.  And I mean a gift like ... I can't even.

She took the pictures.  I wrote the words.

I will keep doing what I do.

Though I am not satisfied with this piece.
Because there are not enough words.
There will never be enough words.
But my sister knows.
There is peace.
Selah.

















Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Otherside


Sincere and serious trigger warning here.  If you struggle with addiction and/or depression/anxiety, this may not be a good read for you.  If you do, however, choose to read this, please finish it.  





I have lost a friend.  The world has lost a light.  And while this is one of the last times and one of the times I want least to make it all about me, like most everyone who knew her, I need to tell you my Sarah story. 

...

I used to see her around, knew who she was, knew whose kid she was, but I didn’t know anything about her until the day she walked into my 12-Step recovery group.  In fact, she was escorted into the room, crying and clearly broken, a caring guide on either side of her.   It was after all the, “Hi, my name’s Amanda, and I struggle with addiction,” introductions so she didn’t get to/have to say any of that.  But I knew.  We were the only two of our kind in the group.1

Sarah did not come back to my group, and I used to wonder if she was too embarrassed or discouraged2, thinking she was the only one of her kind ~ which I could easily wonder, having often thought the same thing.  Sometimes the addicts are obvious, but not always.

Later, I would have the good fortune to become friends with Sarah, and later still, she did reveal her struggles to me.  I can’t actually remember that conversation the way that I remember her coming into the room that day ... because it was like ink and water between us.  I knew and she knew that I knew.  And that’s how it remained between us.

We never chilled together - or whatever it is the young folk call it these days.  We really were just at odd angles to one another, I think - her being right between my daughters’ ages and my own.  But I kept an eye on her, would see her around, and would always have a sense of where she was on the scale, and I know that she knew that, and there was never a distance, or a judgment, or discouragement or embarrassment between us that I could sense.  I loved her and I’m convinced that she knew that too.

On Sarah’s memorial page, another of her friends posted a story about the first time they met.  She tells how Sarah insisted that she listen to a song with some possibly sketchy lyrics ~ who does that when you’ve just met?!  I don’t know if you’ve seen Garden State, but there’s a similar scene in that movie that maintains a special corner in my mind.  There’s Natalie Portman, grinning with joy and something akin to pride, as she shares her song with someone she’s just met, someone she knows in her soul is kindred.  I’ve inserted Sarah’s face into that ethereal scene. 


I've also read those lyrics.  
Sarah’s paths were darker than mine have been, but still, we knew each other.

...

That Sarah struggled with addiction may or may not have been obvious, but something else about her was clear and bright.  She did know Jesus.  She did know that her hope was in him.  And she did cling to him, knowing that he would never leave her, no matter the path.

For people without this kind of faith, I imagine it’s hard to imagine that someone can struggle with something like addiction, and at the same time be assured of God’s love and salvation.  I can pretty much promise you: it’s even harder for the believer to believe it.  But as I’m certain that Sarah must have, there are certain promises to which we may cling.

For instance, I am certain that God, who began a good work within me, will continue his work until it is finally finished. (Philippians 1:6)

Sarah fought harder to overcome her addictions than anyone I’ve ever known.3 She may not have beaten it in this life, but I am certain that he has completed his work in her.  And while I may not see Sarah again in this life, I will see her on the other side.

...

I’ve never been the devotion-writing type of writer.  Don’t think I’ve written much or often or anything, maybe, that inspires someone to ... anything, maybe.  I’m usually making it all about me, but if ever I could write one especially for you, for those of you who’ve been to the otherside, this would be it.

And here’s what I want you to know and what I’m convinced that Sarah would want you to know:

Even when we are broken, when we struggle, when we continue to struggle, when we are addicts, when we hurt people, when we can’t get our shit4 together, when we can’t overcome, when we fail, when we feel lost, when we feel unloved or unlovable...

We are loved.  
“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) 

We need not be lost. 
Indeed, Jesus has come to seek and to save those who are lost. (Luke 19:10)

And we are never alone.
“For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”“ Hebrews 13:5

...

Not all of you will understand this, but some of you will.  Some of you will know me, will know Sarah, will know the struggles of which I speak.  Sometimes the lyrics are obvious, but not always.

So just on the chance that you need a new song5, I’d like to pass you over my headphones...







1.  Celebrate Recovery mixed group


2. I’d written most of this before Sarah’s memorial.  I learned during the service that this may very well have been the first of any kind of group she’d entered, but it was certainly not the last.  In fact, in the years that followed, she immersed herself into a community of supportive, caring people.  This is a key step to recovery.

3. As another of her friends has noted, this kind of loss can be a discouragement and even a trigger for certain ones of us.  Part of Sarah’s legacy is to fight hard against that which would defeat us.  Please remember her for all that was good and beautiful about her.  And please fight hard for your sobriety.

4. I’ve maintained a pretty strict code regarding the words I put in writing, but this time - I’m sorry - my imperfection had to show.

5. I Am Not Alone, Kari Jobe

6. If you know me, my family, my situation, any of it, then you know that Sarah could have been my daughter.  To have made this about that, however, would have seemed indecent in my pit, in my spirit.  Another time.  Maybe.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Truth Or Fiction


The Lord is my Shepherd;
I shall not want...

is probably the second prayer my grandma taught me, and I've mostly remembered it for most of my life, and like most people, I've quoted it at the (mostly) appropriate times ~ you know, like when somebody dies or ticks me off.

Yea, though I walk through the valley...
I will fear no evil... 

It's always had a certain Tarantino-esque quality to it, you know?

Like some dude's saying to me, "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. ..."

And I'm saying, "Yeah, well, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, mo#fo#."

Now, I been sayin' that for years, but it occurs to me lately that, as much as I might like for him to, Jesus probably wouldn't come out all guns a'blazin' at the dude.  I mean, he might call somebody a Pharisee, but probably not, well, you know.


I mean, well, when he does come back, 
he's coming like a total bad hmmhmm, 
but that's a side note.


I'm a little like a first century Jew, I guess.  I see the tyranny, and the evil, and the selfishness all around me, and I think I'm ready for Jesus to come on back and level the field, but that ain't the truth.

The truth is

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

I get so wrapped up in the middle part that I sometimes forget the beginning and the end, the Alpha and Omega, if you will.  I become so distracted by the world around me that I lose sight of the one who created it.  I get so wrapped up in my own perspective that I lose my peace.

I lose sight of the path sometimes.
I sometimes am the tyranny and the evil
and the selfishness.

But I'm tryin'.
I'm tryin' real hard to be (like) the Shepherd.



Maybe I should just stop trying so hard.  Maybe I should just lie down for a bit, have a rest and a drink of water.  Because the truth is

The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.

Psalm 23 (NKJV)