No going back now.

This morning I registered for the race...

This afternoon I don't know how smart of an idea that is. My morning workout went as well as I expected it to. Another 3 miles straight which was another small success. (This morning thou I did sweat and as much as I tried could not barter the adult part of myself out of a shower).

My workday was evidence enough that my afternoon at the gym was going to be interesting. Twice I had to break a preschooler. (I will take him on a "motor break" when he starts getting overly antsy in class and is nearing the verge of losing control of his body). Typically I drag him along through the halls (our school is built in a circle making this perfect) always a few steps ahead so that he has to keep a pretty good pace to keep up with me, thus tiring him out and sending him back to class a little calmer. Well today by our second lap around the school he was dragging me. My legs are tight and my knees are begging me to quit.

I had a ministry meeting in-between work and workout so my body got a lot of time to sit and do nothing while I was stuck in traffic on the highway. This is the first time I've headed to the gym hungry. I've kept my diet incredibly restricted and regulated this week. Counting out portions and employing more measuring cups and plastic baggies then I care to admit to. I should have known I was in trouble when I was still daydreaming about food as I walked into the gym. By the time I was changed and ready to hit the treadmill again my muscles had morphed into red hot fire pokers ripping through my legs. My shoulders and back ache. And so out of hunger, physical pain and mental exhaustion I let myself quit at a half mile. I got on a bike and pulled out 4 miles in 20 minutes and headed to the grocery store.

Part of my brain is telling me it was a smart choice. I limped out of the gym and wouldn't bend my left knee because of the pain in my thighs. (Which is actually quite a sight. As I've gotten older we've begun to realize that I'm pretty bow legged. I actually wear through shoes really awkwardly because I walk with my feet pointed outward (a drastic difference from my sister whose completely pigeon toed) and walk on the outside of my heels. When I realize it I will occasionally make a conscious choice to walk with my feet uncomfortably straight because I think it looks dainty and lady like. Snowboard boots and flip flops look ok turned outward but ballerina flats and heels look out of place when they stick out sideways.  Anyways at twenty five my knees have turned outward and point to the sides. It's not crippling and most of the time it's only the people spend lots of time with me or ironically children who seem to notice. So it's quite funny to watch me when I'm in that much pain that I will keep my knee clenched straight instead of bending it to walk normally. I will step down straight as if my foot is connected to my hip but my knee will swing so far out that it extends even farther out then my hip and shoulder. I must look like such a goon). I came home, showered and prepared my small group lesson for tomorrow nights ministry with the 8th grade girls.

I'm telling myself that my 4 mile bike is counting for a rest day and I will try again tomorrow. I'll be wearing a new Twins shirt that got left behind by someone who decided to sneak into my car while I was at work and leave it there. It's got the fancy American League Central Division Champions logo on it and was left with a note that said, "Sorry about your loss." So I will wear it tomorrow for game one to spit whoever it is that left it there as one last dig at my White Sox this year.

I'm registered. I have sixty four George Washington resembling reasons not quit and with my measly paycheck this month that is reason enough. Part of me is scared, today was day three and I allowed myself to quit. What's going to stop me from quitting during the race? How am I ever going to hit 10?The pain was too much to push through today and I wused out.

When we send kids home because they can't stay in school my co-worker always sends them out with, "Ok buddy, we'll try again tomorrow."

"Ok Mandi, we'll try again tomorrow."

Training Day 1

The training portion of day one is done and here are my newest discoveries.

1. Two-A-Days suck!
2. When I can conquer my head, I can conquer anything.

I woke up this morning having spent far too much of my night battling my brain for sleep. I'm on prescription meds to put me out every night. I've been on them for over two years and my body now realizing it's own physical addiction some night attempts to fight the drugs and stay up as late as it pleases and wake up as often as it wants. Last night was one of those nights.

I woke up with one of those empty kinds of headaches. Where your head feels like a cave and the only thing in it is a echoing kind of pain. I forced myself into something that resembles proper running attire and headed for the gym. On the drive over I forced down half a peanut butter sandwich with flax and two Advil. Remembering someone's advice that if you down a bottle of water first thing in the morning it jump starts your metabolism, I tried that too.

I struggled through two miles on the treadmill. I mean I really struggled, I walked for at least the first ten minutes and then dragged my sorry butt into a 13.45min/mile pace. I was tired but convinced at some point during the day I was going to appreciate what I was putting myself through. My youngest sister spent the last week with my iPod in Vegas so I tried keeping my head still enough to read the ticker on CNN without noise and force myself not to quit on my last half mile.

I kept looking at my watch battling against myself whether I was going to pick up the pace so I would have time to shower and get in a quick Bible study at Caribou when I stopped to get my $1 Special Monday morning coffee. (Hey, if we're going to put my body through boot camp this month, may as well see if I can train my Spirit into some consistency too.)I decided to barter away the shower for the slower pace. (I wasn't going to sweat anyways).

Work went by as normal as a Monday morning in an Elementary School can go. A preschooler who thought he was a gorilla, a Kindergartner whose scared of gorillas, a 3rd grader who broke up a fight by head-butting the assailant, and a 5th grader who stopped speaking and will only do school work on the hallway floor. I love my job. Even an old co-worker who is still near and dear to my heart noticed I am less stressed and walk with an air of confidence when I pass her in the halls. But I will be honest, by the end of the afternoon I am typically looking forward to the bell. But around 2 this afternoon I was dreading the end of the day because it meant another work out. At least this morning I had my day to look forward to; Coffee, a quiet moment with Beth Moore and the book of Daniel, the never-ending adventures with the kids and a tin of Altoids I keep hidden in my desk drawer. This afternoon I knew I had to the up milage, my right knee was biting back and I didn't even have anything good planned for dinner.

I forced myself into a quick change in the gym and headed back out unto the same treadmill as this morning. I quickened my pace right away, hoping the faster I went the sooner it would get over. I should be honest, I've done close to 20 official 5k races. My best recorded race time is 31.34. But I have never ran 3 miles straight without slowing down to walk. (Whether to catch my breath, reestablish my pace, or rub out a cramp). I have never run 3 straight miles until tonight that is. Again without an iPod and with a touch more resolve than this morning I started. I trained my eyes to stare at TV number 7 which was playing Judge Judy and didn't allow myself to look anywhere else but down at the treadmill once every set of commercials. I allowed my brain to focus on my favorite daydream when it was able but after mile one for most of the run my brain would just go blank.

My upper body went through it's typical aches and pains. The sharp shooting pain in my collar bones and upper chest as the muscles realize my pumping arms won't be stopping anytime soon. My right knee creaks for the first bit and the toes in my left foot slam against the tops of my shoes forcing me to curl them inward until they cramp when I can release them and my toes are too numb to care that the toe nails will be gone by the end of the week.

I realized near the end of mile one that I had not stopped. It started to take more control to keep my mind focused and the temptation to look away from Judge Judy became greater. Half way through mile two it became really hard to keep going. My brain had realized I was going to make it without stopping to walk or slowing down at all. In fact by mile two I had sped up to race goal pace. When I allowed my brain a moment to celebrate my impending achievement I instantly set myself up against it. It was taking all of my mental energy not to quit and this was only 3 miles, that's only a little over a quarter of what I have to run. And the familiar demons of failure and doom started to spread their stink in the corners of my mind. Somewhere I found the courage to start repeating to myself, "You don't think about how far you have to go, you think about how far you have come. You don't think about how far you have to go, you think about how far you have come." Until I could train my brain back into fuzziness and my eyes back unto the screen. I refused to let the humidity or the sticky, sweat to trigger asthma and forcibly kept my breath slow, calm, controlled.

When I was sure I had hit three miles I was quick to shut the treadmill off and head to the locker rooms. It spun for a while but by the time I got in the car and started noshing my post workout cup of Kashi I'd gotten the world to stand back right side up in my eyes. Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes as I drove to my Mom's to see my sister and retrieve my iPod. And a grin curled up around the corners of my mouth. I was tempted to text a few of my friends to share my great achievement and then I realized how little it must seem in the light of all of life. I ran 3 miles, big deal. But something about my little secret achievement makes me keep smiling. I ran 3 miles!

Did it have to do with the embarrassing two-miler this morning, or the specific times I forced myself to eat peanut butter or almonds? Maybe, Probably. Was it related to the fact that I literally battled tears while I forced myself back into the gym? That I hated myself so much for making me do it that I was going to show my disciplined side? My greatest pout, my success? Maybe. No, thirty six some odd minutes to run three miles is not my crowning achievement by any means, it's not fast, it's not skill and it's for sure not what I'm aiming for. But it's three miles, it's three miles.  All I know is that today was a success and on the first day, that was all I needed.

In a few minutes I'm heading with my "big sister" to our friend's softball games which will put us home well after 11. I'd like to see my body try fighting sleep tonight.

And tomorrow, we'll do it all over again!

10 in 10.

DO OVER! I'm starting over.

The blog at least. Pretend you don't know me. Or maybe you don't. Start reading now. From now on I plan on being this amazing writer with an even more amazing life that will  keep you glued to your screen and find yourself distracted at work hoping and wishing for my next entry. Maybe now would be a good time to start reading.

Or maybe not. I'm find myself on the tail end of 25 and when I look around me, as much as I love my life and the people and things that surround me, I cannot help but see and feel failure in every area of life that I am.

Its hard for me to say that. To admit to it, or to find people or places in life where I can. I am in a place both in my job and my ministry in which I have and instill immense value in other peoples life. I have what I know to be an invaluable gift to see the best in people. (Particularly the people that are under the age of 18). I spend my days investing in the best of us and teaching and learning and journeying with people who deserve success. I can see doctors and lawyers and basketball players and CEO's in kids written off with ADHD, Autism, EBD and just plain naughty. I can see 8th grade girls walking in the freedom and beauty of Christ where the rest of the world sees the lost and the broken and the young. The immature and the unwilling. When I think of my "sisters"; Jen, Jess and Abbi, my niece Isabelle, when I view their present circumstances, when I dream about their futures I can see what I only can describe as beautiful. Success is too small of a word. They can, they are, they will.

But when I look at me I can't. I can see it in everyone else. In the people I love, the beautiful, wonderful, people I live my life with. The people God has entrusted into my hands. Even the people I don't love, the people who don't smell good, the ones you don't want to scoop into your arms and cuddle and love. Even there for the sheer fact that justice must exist and that this life owes them another shot, even those lives I can see hope. I love to see hope in. I love to fight for.

But me. I'm a different story. When I look at me I see,

Finances so f-ed that I have long since accepted the fact that I will never be on the other side of debt. I have understood that the choices I made as a child, as a teenager with my money will follow me into adulthood, will follow me for the rest of my life. I have spent the last many years learning how to cling on for dear life by a finger hold or two. Sometimes it comes to the point where all I am clinging on by is one last finger. I'm a good person, I was a good kid. I just got a letter that the people who are suing me have defaulted the lawsuit on me. I don't know what the means but I know it means I'm in trouble. I know it means that a little bit wasn't good enough and that trying to hide it all and figure it all out on my own didn't work this time. I know it means that karma has come right around to bite me and running away from the scary things won't work anymore.

I've not so publicly taken the semester off. When I do actually come to the point of being able to say that out loud it will be because I need time to help myself transition into a new job. (Which is mostly true). But the truest part about it is, It's a last ditch effort to not fail out of my private Christian school at my 4th attempt at getting through school with my BA. Not my Masters or my PH.D my bachelors.

I'm single. Which is something that scares me. It didn't used to, but now it does. One of my best friends told me this morning I need to learn how to take care of myself before I bring someone else into the mix. Which I know is true, I know it's especially true in her mind in light of the conversations she's walked into with me in the last few weeks. But I think at 25, (on the tail end of 25) your supposed to know how to take care of yourself. There are a lot of things that we think we're supposed to have figured out that we never will and I'm ok with that part of being human but there are a lot of things I think I'm supposed to know by now, that I don't. Or if I know them, I don't do them. Or I don't do them well. Any of the above choices is failure in my mind.

I've unexpectedly found myself on an Autumn time journey of self discovery  but I'm not sure I like what I'm finding but I'm pretty sure no one else does. I think I'm not as great a friend as I give myself credit for. I'm quieter then I thought I was. (Well sometimes). The things that I used to be incredibly sensitive about don't bother me as much anymore, but new things do. And instead of tears it seems my new default emotion is anger. While I have found myself managing to get through life by a few fingers gripping this side of the mountain, it seems the only finger still holding on is my middle one.

And so I'm running.

I don't know whether I'm running to keep my head above water. I don't know if I'm running because I could drown if I don't, and I'm really scared of what drowning looks like today. I don't know if I'm running because I'm stressed, because I'm scared, because I'm sad, or because this is a socially acceptable way to keep on running away. I don't really know why I'm running yet, but I'm willing to find out.

I guess for October, I'm willing to explore. I'm guess I willing to find out at least on the run, who I am, why I'm running, or what I'm running for.

So I'm running.

And I start tomorrow. I'm running a 10 mile race on Halloween weekend and I start training tomorrow. October 4th. I should probably tell you, I haven't been to the gym since August.

It's crazy and trust me I know by no means is this the typical (or honestly healthy) way to train for a run. But it excites me. If there is anyone who would want to do something crazy like this it would be me. If there is anyone who could choose the intense control and disciple it's going to take to survive this thing I can. If there is anyone who needs a goal, as simple and shallow as a race may be, it's me. If there is anyone who needs something to work for, something you can see and feel and touch to remind me I'm still human it's me. If there is anyone who needs something to strive for, to work for, to be proud of it's me. I need to know there is something out there that I don't fail at.

And so I'm running, and I'm writing about it.

A happy home smells like bleach and pine sol.

Years ago I would watch my Mom sweat, cry and bleed over our kitchen floors. Later in life (before we lived together) I knew to pick my words carefully if Jenny's old house smelt like cleaner.

I never understood why the women in my life that I looked up to cleaned to release stress. Doesn't cleaning just stress you out? Dang, Mom it sure stressed your kids out!

And then I moved in here. Jenny's first home post-divorce. The home we would day dream about getting when times were really bad, the house I would fantasize about over seas when I didn't know whether or not I had the strength to make it through one more day.

This is the first time I have taken ownership over a home. I know it's not technically mine, it's Jen's. But I was here from day one. I was here when she first started getting floor plans, when we would talk about the best lay out for the 2 of us, the dog, getting groceries, coming in soaked from swimming and snowboarding. We have created this home. We've created an idea, a spirit, a community. This is the first time I have known a consistent home.

And I am never more happy then when it smells like bleach and pine sol. (Ok I like when it smells like Donna Karen Cashmere Mist but that's besides the point). Tonight I've ripped this place apart and bleached out crevasses that have not seen the light of day in months.

Tonight I've begun to understand the release in cleaning. The way stress melts away with dust. I'm battling for my home on so many fronts as I battle the dirt and the dust.

End of Summer

This afternoon I was offered a new job. A job I interviewed for on Friday. A job I wanted. I really wanted. A job I think I might look forward to being a part of everyday. A job that brings out the strengths in who I am. A job that allows me grow. It is the one of the most exciting and scary things I have ever done. I've been working in my current position basically since I was 16 years old. I'm 25 now. I have built relationships with my families and with my staff. I have grown to know this and only this. I have been trained and learned how to do what I do and do it well and now...I'm walking away from it and walking into something new and different. Something that puts me in the trenches everyday and yet I am excited. I am the girl who hates change. I HATE it. I run from change or the idea of change. (I literally cannot stand the fact that someone is renting out our loft). But this change, even after originally posting for another job I was nervous to the point of shaking that I would ever consider leaving the job I have now. I posted for this job as an after thought. I almost didn't because I was in the middle of some good conversation with my best friend but quickly posted for it online. After the interview I wanted it, and I wanted it bad and suddenly I was not scared of the change but hoping for it. Praying for it. Today something in my head and heart said I would know by the end of the night and shortly after getting work I got the call. It's like I'm something. Not like I'm "something" but there is something about me that they want. I'm good at something and they can see it and they want to use it. And I'm excited for that.

Tonight Mom experimented with pizza on the grill. Good thing it was a free pizza because it totally flopped. Izze and Abbi came home in good moods and it was nice to hang out like the old days. My sisters sent me and Izze upstairs to play in her room and hooked Mom on the "Real Housewives of New Jersey." It was a glimpse back, a welcome glance.

We're down to the 11 day mark. Bits called today after my excited text about the new job. It was good to talk to her briefly and day dream about vacation outloud. Izze and I walk around the house like we're in a secret club, we're going out of town and no one else is. I think we're driving everyone nuts.

Friday Aug 27th-Aug 29th Chicago Vacation with Bitsy, Jenny and Izze.
Aug 30th-Sept 1st Minneapolis Vacation for Bitsy
Sept 1st-2nd Back to Chicago w/ Jenny, Bitsy and Matt
Sept 2nd-3rd Detroit w/ Jenny and Matt
Sept 3rd-4th Wisconsin Dells w/Jenny and Matt
Sept 4th-5th Tomahawk Wisconsin  w/Jenny and Matt


Jen is gone on her family vacation now. A house boat WAY up north. So I've got the little man all week. Everyone makes fun of what a baby dog he is but Jen has been gone a little less than 48 hours and he has only left my side if I have forced him to by leaving for work. If I am in the house he is touching me and barks at anything that moves near me. I am and always have been convinced this little monster could makes things very difficult for anyone trying to hurt me.

Will I be glad when it is over?

I wonder if by Sunday night anything will be different. Will it be easier to breath? Will it be easier to read the Word? Will it be easier to stand up straight, hold my hands up in worship?

Do I actually believe that once one task at hand is completed that the Enemy will relent on his attack and we will breath easier, walk through life lighter?

I would like to believe we could but I don't  think we will. I don't think the temptation to think like the world, act like the world, fit in with the world, listen to the world will abate just because things are "completed." Quite honestly I don't think that Sunday evening is completion date.

Today I have been busy. If I was not attempting to beat my body into quiet submission through sweat, I was attempting to quite my mind and heart in the stillness of His throne room. The enemy watched me go apparently because he has not let up since. Physically my ankle has gone to crap in a moment, forcing my normal afternoon routine in a less demanding one. Spiritually, mentally, emotionally things that I have trained myself not to believe, not to think about have become my evening obsession.

Thoughts about my weight and body image have been downed with Nalgene after Nalgene of water.
Mistruths about my worth have been doodled, crossed out and rewritten in my journal. Poured over and reread, cried over and obsessed. Words from one I know loves me misconstrued into attacks in my head, and held unto in my heart like a precious jewel. My precious pain jewel.

Why do I do these things? Why do I hold unto pain as if it is a reward? When I am attacked by the enemy I grab unto whatever is hurting me and I cling to it, I literally obsess over it until most often I am physically sick. This is disgusting, this is sin!

I am a daughter, a object of pride, and a beloved bride of the Most High King of Heaven. My worth is uncountable in the eyes of the King. And so is yours! When Jesus sees me He longs for the day when He can come get me and hold me in His arms. He is proud of every moment I give Him glory. His heart leaps when I run to Him. He longs to offer ointment for my wounds and peace for my worried mind.

My King sees me, He hears me, He is faithful, He is love. I am HIS! and I AM ENOUGH!

How Dare He

I am an emotional person. I know it. Call me sensitive, passionate, easily moved, whatever I know it. I cry a lot. When I'm happy it's always "the best day of my life," I get excited and giddy easily. Silly stuff like pictures, gifts, songs and commercials make me tear up.

If there is one thing that enrages me, it's when someone dares to lay a hand on one of my girls.

Sunday afternoon my youngest sister was at the Vikings game. She'd been planning her first game with her boyfriend and his family for weeks. Something happened towards the end of the game when everyone had had one to many beers. Someone in her party accidently knocked a beer onto the purse of a woman in front of them. The woman threw a beer back at my sister and the rest of her party that had not gotten up to go to the bathroom.

I know my sister (and all our family for that matter) and she will admit she ran off at the mouth. We all do, it's one of the unfortunate habits we gained for our mother and her side of the family. Both my birth father and my step dad are quiet passive aggressive types. Us girls let our mouths go and try to pick up the refuge afterwards. Abbi is the typical baby of the family and has always been a small kid but what she lacks in size she has always made up for in spunk and sass. She admits that it quickly became a verbal spar with plenty of expletives that was able to burn itself out within a few moments. Also being a life long tender heart (another trait all three of us girls gained from out Mom) she tapped on the womans shoulder to apologize. The man the woman was with turned around and told her to stop patronizing the woman, and then proceeded to push my sister in front of both the woman he was with and two young teenage girls that we part of his party. (This infuriated the man Abbi was sitting with and the man who had pushed her was eventually asked to leave by police).

She was telling me the story this evening and I tried not to let my own expletives sneak out while I held Izaboo on my lap. But I know what I would've done had I been next to my sister at the game. I would've dropped an f-bomb or two before breaking my knuckles in a punch I think I know how to lay because I've seen a lot of movies but have probably long since forgotten how to actually deliver from the Karate days. I would've gotten kicked out, ruined the guys face or whatever part of his body I could reach first and completely ruined any witness to the glory of Christ that I may have carried into the place with me. My sister still would've been pushed, I still would've watched her be hurt, I would not have proven anything, other than I am given to anger.

It angers me that a man with his own teenage daughters could have the audacity to push a woman, a young and little woman like Abbi. (Regardless of the fact that she had previously been a tipsy little brat...which she will admit to). What witness did you just display for your own little girls, that given enough alcohol if they smart off you'd push them in public?

But my problem is not with this man. My problem is with myself. I want to work in full time ministry and missions in the near future. And I will admit that I would've at least attempted to smash this guy in the face. I will admit that I can't even in my mind think of anything beautiful or redeeming about him. I don't want to pray for him, and in my mind I don't believe the Jesus loves him the way he loves Abbi, the way he loves me.

But I know that's not true. I know that me being short tempered with my kids is just as bad as this man pushing my little sister. I know that swearing under my breath when I heard the story is as bad as the words he called her. I know better than that! I know that Jesus loves this man just as much as he loves me. And sometimes I really don't think that's fair. I don't think it's fair that Jesus loves my Dad like he loves me, I don't think it's fair that God loves my best friends ex husband the way he loves her. I don't think it's fair that Jesus cares for my best friends relative the way he cares for her.

Sometimes I don't only think its' not fair. It makes me mad! It makes me mad that this life is not fair. That I cry and sweat and bleed and he walks away free. That my sister had those thoughts in the back of her mind the last 24 hours. And he holds us all in the palm of his hands. He loves us all the same. He has every hair on every hair counted.

He is a good God. And his glory and the truth of who He is just exemplifies how broken I am but makes me so, so glad that He does chose me.

Daily.

Even when I've screwed up, when I'm mad, when I'm jealous, when I just don't get it.

I sit here to avoid school work once again. (Don't tell anyone but I'm going to squeeze in a quick nap to avoid it some more). I promise I will get a fair amount done this week. I have to.

4 days until "Christmas vacation." I'm heading down to Chicago Friday morning with Jen for the opening night of Cirque de Solie. I bought Jenny and Bitsy tickets for Christmas. So I got a hotel down town, packed cute little outfits and plan on having a girls weekend to remember with my best friends.

This Is Ten Years

Addison Road "Sticking With You."

Come on, it's me you're talking to
there's something going on inside of you
don't have to say it, but I wish you would
cause it would be much easier

You always hide behind yourself
you walk a lonely road with no one's help
I hate to break the news
you're headed for a fall

And if I have to jump
then I'll jump
and I won't look down
you can cry, you can fight,
we can scream and shout
I'll push and pull
until your walls come down
and you understand

I'm gonna be around
I'm sticking with you
I'm sticking with you

Even if you try and shut me out
I'm staying here 'cause thats what love's about
I might let you down, but I won't let you go

So lean into me, I want to know
Everything about the fear you hold inside
'cause you and I are better than just one so

If I have to jump
then I'll jump
and I wont look down
you can cry, you can fight, we can scream and shout
I'll push and pull
until your walls come down
and you understand I'm gonna be around
I'm sticking with...

If that's what it means to love you
If that's what it means to have your back
If that what it takes to show you
Then I'm in, I'm in

If I have to jump
then I'll jump
and I wont look down
you can cry, you can fight, we can scream and shout
I'll push and pull
until your walls come down
and you understand I'm gonna be around

And if I have to jump
then I'll jump
and I wont look down
you can cry, you can fight, we can scream and shout
I'll push and pull
until your walls come down
and you understand I'm gonna be around
I'm sticking with you
I'm sticking with you
I'm sticking with you

Gosh, blogging. Sometimes I wonder why I can never quite give it up. Maybe this one just holds my N-Zed memories, but I'm guessing it's really because sometimes I quite like to journal and in my world it's a lot easier to type than it is to write with a pen and paper. (I do enough of that trying to keep up with two full time undergrad loads...what a joke).

Today was my first day back full time since my bout with H1N1. I went to both shifts at work, took my Bio Lab mid-term, got my scheduled Northwestern school work load done, met with my hiking teacher, had an interesting, semi dis-heartening email conversation with a friend and went back to my second shift at work this afternoon.

There was an event I was supposed to be a part of this evening. I guess I put a lot more stock into it then I should have. I was excited. I have not been around people much since being sick and after my email conversation with previously mentioned friend I just wanted to be outside myself for a while.

Well the event fell through. So I came home, slammed in the ear buds and started up work on a fiction thing I've been batting around for the last couple years in different mediums. I frustrated myself to the point of tears and spent the next two and a half hours working on a poem!.... I know right???

I'm not ready to post it because I realize it was a lot more of a reality than I thought but I'm some how still a little glad I wrote it. Someone has seen it. Someone has read it even...or will within the next couple days and that's all it needed to be. A part of my past, a part of my heart, my present, my future, on screen for myself, for someone else, for tonight.

And now it's done.

My stomach hurts.

3 More Days

I got called an atheist today when asked who I was going to vote for I replied that I was not going to vote.

That's my fear...we've begun to believe the cross was red, white and blue.

I can peacefully say that in prayer I have come to the conclusion in my own heart, that Jesus would not vote.

**Edit 4/1/09 I did vote**

Lord of My Ring

There are about five people who will understand every word of this blog. 

Every day for almost the last three years I have worn a silver ring given to me by someone very important. It was a hand me down, and means more as such then it could have had it been bought with me in mind. For what it means to me now, for what it meant before it was mine, for what it meant the night I put it on it is one of very few possessions I would find myself hard pressed to ever part with. 

My ring reminds me of who I am,

Where I've been, 

Where I'm going,

and in case I could ever forget, it's inscribed with my name.

For the last year for very specific and under very symbolic reasons I have been wearing it on my ring finger. 

For a very, very brief period of time after returning home to the States I tried for selfish and silly reasons to move it back to my right hand. It only last for an hour, there was something so...off about it. It didn't belong on that hand anymore. I told myself I would loyally leave it on my ring finger until it was not physically possible for me to wear it there any longer. Whatever that reason may be.

As I have been running and changing my diet and more honestly the newest bout with Mono I've been losing weight. I've noticed it the most in my fingers. 

Today my ring fell off.

Thankfully as it's slowly grown to almost become part of my body, my nakedness was felt immediately without it and I grabbed it quickly. I put it on my next thickest finger, the middle finger right next to it. 

My ring finger feels lost without it. The only reminder is the small indentation and the faint tan line that still attest to the fact it was once there. 

For some reason, that makes me a little nervous.

Loss and Darth Vadar

There is a scene in Star Wars III, when Anakin (soon to be Darth Vadar) is talking to Yoda about these nightmares he is having that Padme is dieing in child birth. (As a Jedi Anakin is not supposed to have relational attachments including marrying and getting Padme preggers) but none the less Yoda has it figured out that Anakin loves someone and is being tortured by the thought of losing them. Yoda tells Anakin he must learn to let go of what he so desperately wants to hold on to. Death (read: change) is a natural part of life.  

I don't want to read anything too much into Star Wars but I did re-watch the scene a few times to really understand the weight of this.  Most of us know the rest of the story. Anakin becomes so paralyzed by his fear of losing the one he loves he eventually pledges his allegiance to the "dark side" and chases after a power so dark it consumes him completely. All in hopes of becoming powerful over death. All in hopes of keeping the ones he loves, keeping things the way they are. 

I've thought about this scene a lot lately as I've processed some things that are going on in my life and community lately. I have had many Darth Vadar moments in my life. When I've become dark and disgusting, willing to become anyone, pledge my allegiance to anything in order to keep things they way they are and the way I believe they should be. In retrospect I've lost more this year then I have lost in many...

And that's o.k. Sometimes I think its hard for us to be quiet in pain. We want to talk, to balm the pain with our words. Even if we're just talking to ourselves (see Dane Cook, "Crying"). It's o.k for me to say, I've lost lots this year. It's o.k for that to hurt. It's o.k to want to be quiet for just a minute. 

I would like to believe my soul has found rest in something I don't have to loosen grip on, something I don't have to let go of. Something I can fearlessly cling to with everything I am. Some unknown part of me has learned to function in this awareness. 

 

Job 1:1 There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job, and that man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.

... (and we all know what the ... means!!)

Job 42:12&17. And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning...and Job died, an old man and full of days.

**Don't actually look up Dane Cook, his stand up could be funny but is mostly inappropriate).**

The Night before The First Day Of School.

I have suddenly become very nervous if anxious even about going back to "school" tomorrow. You can tell (by my last blog if nothing else) how incredible passionate I am about my job and I in my heart am very excited to get going. I tend to thrive in fall and truly live the best of me in the winter.

This year at our official kickoff our Superintendent said that she has always, always had those last night before the first day of school jitters. She told her husband that the day that stops is the day she knows she needs to switch jobs.

This year though (like every other) there is so much unknown. I do not know who I will be working with or when. I know I have much more responsibility but do not know how to do it. I know I have many new kids but no idea who they are or they interact and react and how to best love and equip them. I know I have a new supervisor and that I have proven myself to be a capable employee but I know not how he reacts to stress or reacts to mine. I'm nervous about how I will react to another extreme in my life. The extreme change in diet and exercise will now be joined with extreme change in sleep schedule. I know I can handle it, every other year as soon as I get back in the swing of things I can stay up until 11, Midnight even and be fine getting up at 5:30. It's the switch to something new. Something different that alwasy tends to make me nervous.

I know what a huge this year is going to be, in our country, in our district, in my kids' lives, in mine. I know I must be fully aligned with Christ so I can take an aggressive stance on the battlefield.

I want to fight for that school, for those kids, not against it. I want to fight with both hands up, not laying on my back both hands waving. I want to go in fully covered, fully prepared.

So if you think of it in the next 12 or so hours lift us up can you? Cover me in the prayers of the saints.

In all honesty I have never considered my present job my career. My career is always the next step, this is just getting me through. Paying the bills until I decide. I have literally gotten excited and giddy about starting school in the new year. Excited about the next step, my real career. It was not until I realized how passionate I was during our start up meetings and how energized I was by the busyness of set up week, how confident I was with the responsibility that's typical shared by an entire site. It was then that I started finally considering this God's current plan for my life. That I'm growing as a woman, an adult and an educator. That I'm where I'm supposed to be. That He's honors me here.

Where I Went To The State Fair

Yesterday I went to the Minnesota State Fair. I was more then a little excited since I was in New Zealand for the fair last year.

I get so giddy for things like the fair. Something about all the excitement, all the different things to see, hear, touch, all the different smells and tastes. There is a line in "James and The Giant Peach" when Grasshopper sings this song that goes "Bright lights, big city, that's what we're looking for." That sums me up pretty well. Which is ironic in it's own right because I typically don't enjoy being in large crowds all that much. I didn't have much more then ten bucks yesterday and no desire to waste thousands of calories on greasy food that would most likely leave me revisiting Friday nights escapades but I was at the fair for a little over 10 hours.

There were a few note worthy moments in my day...

• I ran into more people I know yesterday then I have ever run into anywhere. Alyssa, Donnie and the new baby. Kristen and Greg. Brea. Heidi, Drake and JC.
• Taking a newly potty trained 3-year old without a change of clothes should have been re thought before leaving the house. People were so gracious though. Tip for parenting, if you ever need to save an accident, look for the soccer Mom at the front of the bathroom line. Most likely she'll give up her spot for you and if your really lucky make the people in front of her let you go in front too.
• Resisting temptation to eat high calorie, greasy, deep fried anything on a stick is really much easier then it sounds. Just look around at the people eating the stuff, there's really no gracious way to eat it. Most of the time watching it be consumed by others is enough to not want to experience it on your own.

We walked past an FSN North stand at some point through the day and there were two Vikings cheerleaders there taking pictures and giving autographs. (I'm still at a loss as to why so many parents were "encouraging" their prepubescent sons to take pictures and meet the girls, even though they were much more interested in watching the Twins game in the next tent). But Izze saw the brightly colored pom poms and the glitter and wanted to meet the girls. So we stood in line and had her and Keira take a picture with the girls. (Who were, by the way very kind and signed posters and let the girls play with the pom poms). The interaction to me was not so disturbing as the reactions afterwards. Izze sat in her stroller for a good ten minutes just holding the poster in front of her, staring at the cheerleaders. I wonder how at such a young age she has already defined beauty. There is no avoiding the fact Izze was enthralled by theirs. What bothered me was how fleeting their beauty was. I will not say the girls were ugly, but even the way they sat looked forced and almost painful. Their faces threatening to wash away if it were to rain or God save they cried. There personalities had become rote memorization of cheerleader pep and Viking pride.

I don't fear that is Isabelle's only association to beauty. She continually calls her Mother, Grandma and both us Aunties beautiful and we all have very, very different ideas of beauty and all carry ourselves differently. At the Miracle of Birth center she pet a 15 minute old piglet and exclaimed "Oh Danda, he is beautiful." What I fear is that at three she has somehow grasped the world's pinnacle of beauty as being very near what the cheerleaders had. Blond hair, pouty lips, a dangerously thin waste line, large breasts, and lots of makeup.

Don't take this as Mandi is anti-cheerleader. I mean, it's never a sport I would choose to be a part of but I do have a friend who now cheers at the collegiate level and was also royalty for the city of Maple Grove. And I can tell you she is one of the most independent, level headed, colorful people I have ever met. We have worked together for numerous summers now and I have seen first hand how hard of a worker she is, how wonderful she is with kids and how deep her convictions and emotions go. She is not flighty, fake, or delicate nor do I assume the cheerleaders at the fair were.

At a different moment at the fair I ran into one of the most influential people in my life. With out a doubt God has written her into the story of my life as a testimony to His grace, His gentleness and His beauty. She is probably the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Literally and spiritually. There is no helping leaving her and feeling beautiful myself. She just radiates humble beauty and confidence. It's other worldy. That much is obvious. She is so convinced of who she is in Him that it physically radiates off of her. She was without makeup, in a black t-shirt and blue jeans.

That is the beauty I want Izze to know in her life. Beauty that does not fade with age and opportunity and career. Beauty that does not falter when the rest of life does. Beauty that cannot be shaken. Beauty that comes from beyond anything we can grasp. Anything we can touch, paint, pluck, dye, apply, subtract. Beauty bred out of love and relationship. Not beauty bred out of hate and desire to be filled. Beauty from fulfillment, from knowing we are sure, we are held, we are loved, and wanted and desired. And I desperately, desperately want her to know that, to understand, to trust it, to live it...

before she is twenty three.

We visited the pro-life tent and signed a petition. Which is kind of a must for children bred of Republican parents eh? I liked playing with the plastic fetal dolls, holding the 5 month one knowing my cousin has the same thing safely cradled inside her.

Except I think women like Abbi, Justine and Dede have greater right to be pro-life then people like me. I mean really, I am a semi hypocrite for signing that thing aren't I? Absolutely I am passionate about children, life, babies, women. It infuriates me that more unborn children have been killed since abortion was legalized in 1973 then all US casualties in all American participatory wars combine. We support our troops but not our children. It confuses me that we'll run 5K's for cancer, diabetes and lung disease when the leading cause of death in Minnesota is abortion. I don't know how to grasp the fact that it's estimated that 1/2 of my generation was never allowed to be born. (Maybe a best friend my age or my boyfriend were in that group). But I'm also a virgin. What if I slipped up? Everyone knows I'm prone to following my heart in the moment and letting my head catch up later. I'm almost grateful for a fear that keeps me at least 6 ft. from all men at all times because a temptation to even come close to that kind of "slip up" is almost non existent in my life. Had you asked me to sign a petition about better pay for Minnesota's Educators, tax breaks for single parent households with medical issues or equality for snowboarders I would have been able to sign it knowing I had been on the other side. I've been in the school system for long enough to tell you they don't make enough, seen a clinically ill mother work four jobs because she has four mouths to feed, and been the snowboarder chided by the skiier for going too fast. (Ok that last ones a joke).

I've never been the scared teenager who sees two pink lines instead of one. I've never been the woman working doubles at Wal-Mart to keep the toddler fed and the electricity on. I've never had to give up my dreams, my goals, my job, my friends, even my family for a mistake I made. (Occasionally it feels like it but lets be honest...) I sign the petitions because I'm safe. I won't have an unexpected pregnancy. But I know it's not just the ones who get caught, girls who get pregnant the first time, the last time, that one time. I know so, so many who've done the same thing and didn't have to pay for it with another life. We all make mistakes. I fall into temptation constantly. I will be desperately honest and say my carnal sin is I love to cut. But the sweet, sick satisfaction of dragging a blade across my skin leaves me with a scab and a scar that I can hide, not a child's life to be responsible for. So I sign the petition because I care about life but that's mostly where my personal involvement stops. I've never signed petitions to get better legislation for Minnesota's adoption system. I've never volunteered my time at the crisis nursery. I've never picketed for welfare reform. Never fought for better sex and health education at the Jr. High level. My life has happened to cross paths with numerous single/teenage mothers but I have not gone out of my way to find, help or be involved with others.

So many people have asked me lately whether I am a Republican or Democrat or who I plan to vote for. I would have to ask then on which issue do you wonder because the lines have continued to get a whole lot more blurred.

I was talking to a woman a few days ago whom I love very much and in whose wisdom I am continually blown away. And I was verbally processing what I was continuing to call the "suburban poor" she helped me to see what we have created as a society, "the American Caste".

The suburban poor, which I am incredibly passionate about continue to be pushed to the margins of American society. Kids like mine whose households can bring in less then 15,000 annually are ignored by big money cooperations and non-profits looking to donate to the "inner city." Many inner city problems like drugs, gang violence and prostitution are allowed to run rampant because specialized law enforcement task forces are sent elsewhere into the big cities. So these kids, if they make it to birth, are born into a set class they have little chance of escaping.

The working poor in America have all but depleted the middle class. As the economy continues to fall the great divide between the rich and poor continues to grow. Take for instance the recent tax referendum in Hennipen County that left Osseo School District in upwards of a 4 million dollar deficit. Where is the largest voting percentage coming from in Hennipen County? The Western side. Where both the average age and income of voters is higher. So basically what we're looking at is the only people going out to vote for something as low profile as a tax referendum are old people with money. (Yes, that is a very much a dramatic statement but voter turn out was notoriously low.) But lets go back and look at this hypothetically shall we? For something so small as a county raising taxes how would you find out about it? You would have to be involved in your county or community true? You'd have to have extra time to be reading, listening, or involved. Might be hard to do if your a young, single parent. Heck, even if your married having time to do anything is rough with kids. Might also be hard if you didn't speak the dominant language. (And before we get huffy that in this country, we speak English take into consideration that we have no national language). And if this were about money per say, you'd care more if you had some right? Well ok, I'll drop it what's in the past is in the past. We can't go back now.

Back to these kids and my theory of an American Caste. Now these "suburban" schools have Kindergarten ratios of 24, 26:1. I will not say anything negative about Kindergarten teachers because they must be the most patient and gracious people I have ever met, but no matter how big your heart is without help there is no way that at 26:1 a Kindergartener (especially one coming with no type of pre-school education) is going to get the one on one attention needed to firmly cement the educational building blocks and social skills foundation needed to fully excel at an elementary education.

Not to mention that with extreme budget cuts like the ones we've just faced with programs like gym and sports being cut and serious cuts to the nutrition programs kids are NOT GOING to get the nutrition and exercise that bodies desperately need to fully engage all body systems needed to learn and grow. All the studies coming out of schools like Duke and Yale show countless studies that music and arts programs help to build stronger and safer communities but those are the first to get cut. We have mostly accepted how disgustingly off kilter the U.S. has become with food and obesity but we don't think twice about cutting gym and sports programs at even the youngest level of public education. Without a serious welfare reform even programs like WIC and food stamps will not be able to provide proper nutrition to our most vulnerable.

We can tell our children to be all they can be. We can tell them how important it is to stay in school but without a strong elementary foundation, by the time they are in Jr. High the struggle to comprehend and learn has become so difficult the glimmer and hope of escaping it all with drugs and alcohol becomes all to real. I can't blame them for wanting an escape. By Highschool the desire to be wanted, needed, important, special is strangling and the instant gratification promised in everything from instant meals at McDonalds and instant celebrity on youtube leads to an all time high in teen sexual activity, pregnancy and yes, abortion.

WAKE UP! American teens are buying what America is selling!

Sex sells guys. Yes, we can tell them to be all they can be. To go to college but without helping them along the way, without finding a way to break out of the economic class their parents are trapped in college is just as much a fairy tale as playing in the NFL. We can tell them to be all they can be, but without changing the world we brought them into, they can't be.

I know the only hope for a broken world is a God who offers wholeness. A God who offers relationship. Hope. Grace. Peace. A future. I tell my kids they will be great because He is great. I start work tomorrow with lots of them, I will instill in them the greatness of who He's created them to be and I will expect nothing less.

"Who needs a creator when we can sculpt mountains? Who needs a Physician when we can heal ourselves? Who needs Providence for food when we clone animals for food? Who needs a Savior when we have a four hundred billion dollar defense shield? Who needs a Deliverer when the empire has become a democracy? Who needs a God when we are worthy of worship ourselves?" -Jesus for President.

Dear World, This is not my Jesus.

But we've gotta wake up! We're starting to look less and less like the church He left and more and more like the Babylon He's coming to destroy but we are not without hope! We are not to far gone!

"My first allegiance is not to a flag, a country or a man. My first allegiance is not to democracy or blood. It's to a king and a kingdom." -Derek Webb

We have a whole new definition of loving our enemies as we send more troops into the Middle East. We have a whole new definition of loving orphans and widows when we continue to buy into the yoke of capitalism and force our mothers, daughters and sisters in Sri Lanka, India and China under the same. We have a whole definition of being "SET APART" as we continue to be drunk on the "cocktails of culture."

I would vote for Jesus, except I think He would make an awful President.

On a different note, I've come to the conclusion (after much experience and finishing 1 Timothy) that ignoring someone is an awful form of behavior modification and one of the cruelest forms of manipulation. What ignoring someone says is, "Your not doing what I want, being who I want, acting like I want and I am keeping something (myself) from you until you do, be what I want." Essentially what it says, is I am in control. I think in a marriage relationship it borders on infidelity, parenting borders on abuse, friendship borders on betrayal. I think most people would rather just fight, scream, cry than be ignored. Being created in the image of a completely relational God, it's just against our genetic makeup as sons to be ignored.

We can't keep ignoring this. Our world. Our society. Our church. Our schools. Our jobs. Our relationships.

I've also come to the conclusion if I can go two weeks without doing laundry and still be wearing clean clothes, I have to many clothes.

I'm in training y'all...enjoy the ride.

Sick

I woke up this morning and my abs ached. I thought about congratulating myself for a rough workout but then remembered I have not worked abs in a few days. My ab muscles along with most in my neck and back ache because I spent the early evening into the early morning hunched over and heaving. 

I went to a lovely dinner with Sarah and Alex then went to my Mothers to babysit my niece. (Whose hair has now been cut short...and might I tell you it fits her personality perfectly!!!!) As soon as my sister walked out the door my niece complained her stomach hurt. (Hers of course was easily remedied with a bowl of ice cream with "sprinklers") but mine not so easily. 

As unwelcome tears burned down my face I thought of the numerous scenes being played out just like mine in my generation. Friday night=party night. Why would you choose to put yourself through that? I am lucky I keep a messy car and was able to grab a discarded bag as I felt myself start to get sick driving down 169. (That was a first. Trying to throw up in a bag, keep my eyes open and drive.) I ran out of food to throw up by midnight and was done with stomach acid and eventually blood by 3 a.m.

I have not been violently ill like that in years. The sick that leaves you weak and shaky the next day and scared to consume anything that might put you in the place you were 24 hours previous. 

I laid in bed shaking, crying and praying. I know You can heal me, I know You are stronger the Satan, then sickness, then disease then sin.  And I knew suddenly it was not about a stomach bug anymore. It was about surrender. Endurance. Patience. Joy. 

I fell asleep on my own and woke up shaky and sore but joyful. I made it through another night. I'm still human. He's still God. 

He's got it all figured out.

the

HARLOT

having 

...learned...

that

JESUS

was there

bought a bottle of

expensive

perfume

and stood at 

His

FEET

WEEPING,

raining

t

e

a

r

s

on His feet

letting down

her hair,

she dried His feet,

KISSED 

them,

and 

ANOINTED

them with the 

perfume.

I'm running my first 5k in 3 weeks.

It's a new thing I've learned to love. I decided on my own I wanted to race someday, I decided to start training and signed up for the race. One race turned into 2 and then 3 and now I have plans to run 6 before the New Year. I'm been shaving off minutes from my time everyday. I can do this! 

Running to me is similar to fasting. Running to me starves out the flesh, quickly. There's something about it to me, knowing by half way through the work out I'm spent and finding something, some strength, some reason to keep going. 

I don't know why I run. I mean I know I love being healthy, I love losing weight, I love seeing new paths, I love working at the gym, I love the goal of finishing a race but running, needing to move, wanting to move and get somewhere or go somewhere or work for something. I don't know why I do it.

I try convincing Abbi to sign up Izze for the KidsRuns at most of my races, in hopes of not having to go alone. In hopes of someone standing at the finish line and cheering me on. Maybe I don't run enough yet...that wanting someone at the finish line is still in my head.

Yesterday Jimmy wished me good luck. I don't even remember telling him about the race, he must have heard it in the small area we all shared yesterday. But before he left he remembered to wish me good luck. That was important to me.

Thanks. 

You know I have realized mostly the hard way that life is about choices. I'm there now, I get it and am trying so hard to move forward making the right ones. 

But then I realized yesterday life is also about being at the mercy of others choices. 

I guess I'll chew on that for a while...

You are the one, I've been waiting for...today.

I had a wonderfully "beast" day, (as my boys would say) and have dampened it this night by making myself even more fully aware of my own stupidity. I can set goals for myself all I want but until....I don't know. Maybe that's my issue, I have no idea why I continue to fail. I set up these goals for myself and write it down and set up these nice little systems and keep everything very predictable for myself and here I am. Exactly where I said I was not going to be.

Today we were at Wild Mountain for work. What a blast. I am so blessed and have such great friends to share such a beautiful time with. 

On the way to work today I realized it was still early enough to be chilly and the bus ride through the river valley might still be cold. I was too close to work with not enough time to turn around and go home to grab a hoodie but I realized I have to turn right by my Mom's house anyways. I stopped in and she gave me one of her hoodies. I purposely "forgot" it in my car this evening when I went to nanny Izze because I wanted to take it home and sleep in it. If I pull my head into the hood and close my eyes and breath deep I can smell her, and she's holding me...and the world is ok again.

I want to run a 5k in October so I've started training myself and forcing myself through a lot of submission and self control issues I have. It's been successful and I feel lovely. I'm at that point where I can instant success thou. I can feel myself run farther then I did the day before. I can see my skin stay clear without artificial sugars and can push away a caffeine withdrawal induced headache with another Nalgene. The last couple weeks have been semi miserable detoxing from all the crap I put into my body and the crap lifestyle I expose it to. But can I tell you, even for no reason at all. I feel great.

But it's been more then a body change and I know that. I walk differently, with a different air and a sort of confidence I have not known in a while. I spend my mornings with Riley and Jesus and they've been doing a number on my heart lately. I love my mornings. I love being alone from people but having the dog there so I'm not technically alone to the point where I would feel lonely. 

I love being able to see my broken relationships and love them in spite of them. I've come to realize it stems from my ultimate broken relationship and that anything else I try to do comes from the fact that I'm human and I'm trying to replace what I lost at the fall. I'm trying to fill my heart with anything that distract me from the gapping hole that only He can fill. I love knowing that He knows that and loves me anyways. I love knowing that besides, beyond and because of the law and the rules and the pageants and programs He's a completely relational God who loves me unconditionally...which is good news for a relational girl like me.

So that's me exhausted and semi emotional as I head into another day tomorrow of water park. Bunker Beach baby!

And P.S. To the Guy Running the Go-Carts At Wild Mountain-

     I thought you were cute too but you're not going to impress this girl by acting like a child in front of my kids. You would have walked miles in my book had you acted like a gentlemen and treated me like a lady. Had been an example to my boys of what a real man is and should be. They saw the way you were with me and asked why I didn't stay. I told them that's not how to win a girls affections. You were cute. You made me smile, I'll give you that but curly hair and baby blues will only get you so far. 

War

The past year or so I have struggled a lot with war. Where do I stand? Do I deserve an opinion? What does God think? What does He think about war in 2008? What would Jesus do? 

I have many people I love dearly and respect who have gone to fight, who have fought in previous wars, who would fight if given the chance, who would fight if it came down to it. 

I still get goose-bumps at fireworks and when I hear the first cords of the national anthem. I cry at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. I think I might bleed red, white and blue. 

But I feel like I am becoming a part of a generation of revolutionaries who believe that the US is evil and war is wrong. That Jesus does not desire it, and although God has used it in the past he would not use it today. 

And I'm torn because I don't know where to place my heart. I know Romans 15, that says DO ALL to keep peace at all times.  And I know countless stories in the Old Testament that war was used to establish God's purpose.

But God's purpose was never that Israel should have a king. But he gave them one in order to get their attention. If in the next world there will be no blood shed even that of animals, I would have to assume that was the original plan right? No blood shed. 

So maybe God has used war and blood shed to get peoples attention. 

And maybe He's trying to get our attention now.

But maybe He is trying to get us to lay down our weapons. How much attention would that get? A army that lays down it's weapons and kneels before it's enemies? 

I don't know what God's plan for the US is, or Iraq or Turkey or anywhere else in the world. But I know one thing, He is trying to get our attention.