Putting Faces with Names~

As I read the passages tonight, I see myself in many faces, hear myself answering to their names:

-I am Mary Magdalene, whoring myself out for a pittance, not realizing the inheritance I already possess.

-I am Saul, with my misguided, murderous intent—blinded while traveling down a road destined for destruction.

-I am Samson, weakened by human (and misplaced) love—made frail at the hands of the one I (foolishly) trusted the most.

-I am Pilot, my cowardice is costly, its ripple effect I have only begun to discern.

-I am Peter. I run when I should walk—speak when I shouldn’t talk---my fits of passion are not accepted kindly, as peace and patience are words of the day.

-I am Judas Iscariot, trusted steward—only to turn and betray—greed getting the better of me—I now hang—my head in shame—my heart in sorrow—my body among the twisted branches.

-I am Barrabas, unworthy recipient of this second chance, escorted from my prison-- I stagger away from the gallows…free.

-I am Cain, my jealousy has killed many things…I walk alone in exile, the ground beneath me lies barren and fallow.

-I am David, not yet the king… small, lowly shepherd—I long to dance in the streets and sing—golden harps and waving arms.

-I am Delilah, sapping the strength of those I claim to love— I cut with words, with selfishness, with pride. they are weakened—and I am to blame.

-I am Absalom, overtaken with righteous anger—my sisters have been dishonored.

-I am Esau, my eyes short-sighted—my greedy, gluttonous mind bargains away my blessings.

-I am Jezebel, my idolatry has ripped me apart limb from limb—the hounds of heaven tearing at my amethyst cloak.

-I am Tamar, I have been dishonored—I have been broken and used. I am bitter—angry at injustice. I am seething—shamed—and saddened by what did not have to be—by this world that makes no sense.

-I am still Mary Magdalene…but now I have grown my hair---I have broken an alabaster box. I have knelt low, and I have raised high—my eyes—my song—my soul. I have been washing feet—been washing—been washed—clean.

~I am loved, I don't know why~

Leaving Home~

Many of you already know I left Hawaii and came to North Carolina this week.

It was a full week.

I missed home—and reveled in home—embraced home—and drowned in home.

I sensed home—was overwhelmed with home—made peace with home. I hungered and was starved for home—and feasted on home. I gave thanks at home—sought truth at home. I found home—and lost myself in home.

I stepped on a plane and flew far—and found closeness. Fears were faced, and giants were defeated—leaving only shrinking shadows.

I left home for home…and reveled in the radiance of Autumnal air…it was cleared…and it was fresh.

One week passed…too short for comfort….too lengthy to remain unattached.

Yet, I step in this plane, leaving home for home…I arrive to bask in the warmth of sun’s shining…knowing it will rise again each morning from this day forward—heralding the newness~

And I will look around me and give thanks for my home.

And I will close my eyes, set off across this ocean, and remember in praise (with prayers) my home.

Allowance(s)~

Anybody remember allowances from growing up? I remember my friends having them...a certain amount of money *usually pretty modest* that their parents would allocate to them each week. Usually it involved an exchange of the green in return for domestic chores, or helping out in a number of ways. My friends would mostly use their funds for going to the movies, or clothes, or (once we hit middle school) “hot” dates ;) And man, those bowling alleys and arcades were off the hook! We were so cool...swingin' hipsters, I tell you~

As for me, I do not remember an allowance. I do recall regarding the concept of them as being a bit foreign. Even the name, "allowance" carries such a loaded and strange connotation to it. In my home, my sisters and I were simply expected to help around the house as members of the family. The thought of getting otherwise rewarded (besides a deeply felt "thank you!" from my amazing momasita) was equally as alien. If I wanted money for spending or something extra....(say...like perhaps meeting that smokin' boy at the mall and cruising around all TWO of the shops until our moms came to get us in the matching mini vans...around 9pm...* live it up!*) then I babysat, or found other odd jobs apart from regular washing of the dishes and keeping our family home clean. The funniest thing is that I don't remember being annoyed by this fact that I had no allowance. I felt it was not "owed" to me simply for helping my mom out around the house, and for being a contributing member of the family—pitching in wherever was needed.

Today I am thinking of adult allowance(s). I see many of them...but as adults we are no longer supplied by our parents, and it seems to be of a much different, and less tangible, genre of "green." As a (ahem) grown up, I feel I receive an allowance (of sorts) everyday...from the world. I see this presenting itself in various forms---as love, acceptance, encouragement, and affirmation, etc…

I also, at the ripe old age of 28, am looking at this allowance...of love, of acceptance, of encouragement, of affirmation...and beginning to ask myself...what is expected of me to earn such a sum this week? Is there a list someone could please post on the fridge? (You know, the kind with small checkboxes perhaps? Or a honeydew melon graphic on the top--sous smiley-faced green gourd attached?) No? Well that would be too simple and straightforward, then, wouldn’t it?

In our world, I wonder what the “acceptable” labor and toil required of me is/ would be….and I wonder if I secretly deep down feel the need to “earn” my allowance…or even worse, if I walk around with an attitude of being “owed” (and hence, demanding of the world) this allotment. Either attitude, I have a sneaking feeling, will get me a pittance (and a begrudging one at that).

So, I’ve a mind to do away with this whole allowance business! I believe it best if I follow the practice of my youth. I will have a deep awareness that (although most definitely worthy of provision and goodness) I am not “owed” anything by anyone. I will simply throw my full efforts into claiming my role as an integral and contributing (without reservation—or expectation) member of this non-biological brotherhood I satellite around daily. In turn, I will not feel this need to “earn” anything—for there will be no formal offering of payment.

It will be as before…my needs will be met…all that is required to sustain comes for those that are family…ohana…and who live, and move, and have their being as an integral piece of the whole. Seeking the “green” now takes on a whole new meaning:

G-rowth

R-efreshment

E-ncouragement

E-nrichment

N-ewness~

May we all have more than enough green to sustain us—never feeling owed—never having to earn—but rather stepping up, and serving up…as siblings~

Refresh~

Lately I have been having a plethora of computer glitch issues. It’s so slow, or cuts out, or kicks me offline without notice. (Stephanie Tanner’s sentiments explain my feelings exactly: how rude, indeed~)

I have found in trying to troubleshoot with these problems, that if I simply hit the refresh button on the site….it fixes the issue, at least for a time. I have often wished there were a refresh (or let’s face it, even a delete) button in life… * for when the page we are on gets tired…or “freezes up,” …stagnant and still….NOTHING GOING….stalled. I’d simply hit that refresh…and there is a recharge, a rejuvenation…the page is cleared and we trusty little computers are freed and enabled to go on about our same business as before. Oh, sounds wonderful.

A techie friend of mine tried explaining to me in simple terms why computers freeze up like mine has been lately (I felt like I was living a “How To, for Dummies” book during said conference, but was grateful nonetheless for the better understanding gleaned). He shared with me that the computer gets tired, and if it has been going for too long a period of time without being “refreshed,” or even turned off and given a complete rest, it will begin to slow…sometimes even quitting and freezing up completely; unable to accomplish the sole purpose(s) that it was (and is) intended for.

My friend knowingly looked up at me, and gingerly took my laptop from my inexperienced (and impatiently taskmaster driving) hands. He shifted the mouse to hover over a small arrow, clicking just once. The icon spun slightly, and, just like that, the page was revived and humming again. All he had to do was help me to stop, find the right key, and allow my computer to be revived…somedays even to completely stop expecting it to work for me, and let it be at rest. No expectations…no demands.

No expectations.

No demands.

Just Rest.

And Refresh....

I want to be a human refresh button.