waiting

I was exploring some Hebrew words this morning and talking to Jesus, and I came across this:
"I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me and heard my cry. " Popular verse and all. David wrote it, and we labeled it Psalms 40. But I looked at two of the Hebrew words behind our words: qavah (waited) and natah (inclined), and the verse seems more important to me. The Hebrew word for "waiting" isn't "waiting" like an orphan for adoptive parents, because an orphan never knows if anyone is coming. Qavah is to wait because you know something is coming. Amber is qavah right now for her camera. She ordered it, and knows it's coming; she waits till Friday, and she waits excitedly because Friday her camera IS coming. So, when David says he is waiting for God he's waiting excitedly because he knows God IS coming. He has no doubt, so it's not hard to be patient. Like Matt counting down the four Saturdays till Florida, David is counting down the moments till God arrives. Obviously God comes when he comes and goes when he goes, so David doesn't have a firm date about when God will come... or does he?

Check this out: natah is translated inclined, as in leaning towards. But that Hebrew word was more often used to say stretch or extend. So don't picture God leaning down towards David like your great-aunt towards a toddler, all achy backed and arthritic. Don't imagine the slow movements we use to ease towards someone. This is God we're talking about. Imagine Michelangelo's Sistene Chapel and God reaching mightily towards Adam. Imagine God running like an Olympic sprinter to David's side. He's arched and stretched and throwing all his energy into crossing the finish line and breaking that ribbon. So David is confident God will come, and he's excited, because God is coming as quickly as he can. How fast can our omnipresent, almighty God get there? Immediately. And when does God begin his journey? Probably when he heard David's cry. When he saw David waiting. Understand this: David is qavah because he knows when God is coming -- God is coming now.

I woke up at 9am this morning. I felt like I had left the swimming pool just to climb into bed. All soaking wet. Sweat everywhere. It was 9am so I decided to shower and get out of my stifling blankets. I locked the door to the bathroom and then my Dad knocked on the door. He mumbled something, so asked him what he said. He said, "Are you ok?" That's when I realized I was sitting in the bathtub in my pajamas, and the shower curtain was wrapped around me like a hot dog. It took me a few minutes to decide it was worth unlocking the door. He had heard a clunk. I couldn't decide if I was dying or not. He got me water and a piece of bread. He knelt on the floor to make sure I was ok, and I sat on the edge of the bathtub and hung my head in exhaustion. Who knew falling down could be so much work? The doc says I need to eat more (sweeeet!), drink more, rest more (me? rest MORE? hahahahaha) and he stole some of my blood. I don't think he's going to give it back. What he doesn't know is my body is a blood manufacturing MACHINE!




My palm pilot is covered with things I want to be doing right now. But I'm supposed to take it easy. I'll just avoid washing my hand until I feel better.

Well, let's see:

1.) The water was cold. Very cold. The wind was colder.

2.) The hopefully came true! The plans went off perfect! Fun times were had by all! We stayed up till 2am talking and it was healthy and beautiful. The play was educational at a heart level. I'm not sure I can factually point to what clicked with me, but I think it mostly came down to realizing that the human condition is common to, well, all humans.

3.) The mystery dinner was a night of intrigue and proposals and lots of lying through teeth. It should be repeated.

4.) The family dined at Eva in Wallingford. Good service, quite the selection of unique food, a great tawny port and a 10 table atmosphere. Pleasant to say the least.

5.) The meet with Sharon fell through but I did get to spend a few hours with Katelyn, which was decidedly beautiful. El Diablo was made for interesting conversations.

6.) I missed my flight to Long Beach, so I read Hemingway in SeaTac's new terminal which is light and bright and modern and has some very cool art on display. I flew into Orange County instead and caught a shuttle to the car which turns out to be exactly what I expected. A few hours later, after 10 hours of not eating I stopped at Trader Joes before the long drive to Sacramento. Taragon and chicken is a great combination and fresh juices are wonderful. The drive wasn't nearly as trafficky as I expected. At 5pm I made it from Long Beach all the way out of LA on the 405 and the 5 in just two hours! The car handles well and rides like a BMW, which is the point. The paint isn't perfect and there's some personality quirks, but it drives like a BMW, so who cares? Oh, I have a radio in my car. It's been so long since I've had a radio.

I'll update again soon!

My birthday is in less than 2 hours.

Here are the plans for my birthday weekend:

Tomorrow morning Matt, Trevor and I are going on a drive. Our goal is a secluded beach upon which we will look at the sea, smoke cigars and drink homemade beer (excusing Matt of course, as he is admirably legal).

Tomorrow night, us three plus Renae and Amber hopefully will be going to a play. We've purchased tickets, but I say hopefully in that somehow my plans usually fail. I don't know why. But God willing, we will be.

Saturday night, the plan is to have a mystery dinner at my house, with 8 friends and my sister and parents. It looks to be an exciting night of intrigues.

Sunday the family is having a family day. I don't know what we'll end up doing, but a nice dinner is in the works.

Monday I'm meeting my friend Katelyn in the afternoon, and another dear friend, Sharon, in the evening, the latter at a pub on Post Alley. I hope both of those dates work out because I really appreciate both of those people.

Tuesday morning I fly out to LA, pick up a car, and hopefully see Azina.

Tuesday, Wednesday and possibly Thursday I drive home.

Here's the part that terrifies me: after I pick up the car on Tuesday, I have no firm plans for the rest of my life. I feel like I'm setting off to swim across the pacific, knowing the only guaranteed stop is Asia on the other side. It looks very vast from here, and cold, and scary. And now that I'm swimming, I see no other course than to continue on towards the other side, which I call heaven, and home.

Wish me well. Voy con Dios.

The UK was nice but now Africa looks like liberty.

1. It's official. No one is allowed to smoke in the UK. So much for my dream of a pipe and a pint in a pub.
   
2. In other news every time there's a terrorist attack, the suffering nation responds by allowing the government more power and the people less freedom. You can now be held for 28 days without charge in the UK. Funny that it takes 28 days (and Blair wanted 90 days) to find a crime to charge a "terrorist" with. Even though we know they're "evil" and the opponents of all things good and right, because they threaten citizen's liberty. Reverse that and suddenly anyone who threatens a citizen's liberty is a terrorist, and now, hey there, the UK is a terrorist state. Only they think it's their duty to protect their citizens, says Blair. By incarcerating citizens while searching for crimes to charge them with? Someone is confused.
3. In other news, Zanzibar looks neat. Another place on the list of places to go.
   

where is that wisdom when I need it Jesus?

I have a feeling that even if I read every book on safe people, healthy relationships, boundaries, negotiations, shalom, holiness, communication, love, and every book on man's search for meaning, and searching for God knows what and every book on the gospel, raggamuffin and otherwise -- I have a feeling that no matter how many books I read I'll still fail at relationships. I'll still have unhealthy friendships. I'll still hurt people. I'll still be unfaithful. I'll still break my word. I'll still judge. I'll still do everything I hate myself for doing.

This makes me really, really sad and I don't know what to do about it.

I don't have anywhere to turn. God's not talking. I'm resigned. I can't do this. I'm giving up on me. And I don't even know what that means. I'll still have friendships, but maybe I just won't expect them to be healthy relationships, or safe or holy or anything but depraved and human. That is so sad.

Is this the curse? Imperfect relationships for the duration of our lives? Then this really is a curse and now, finally, I'm pissed at Adam and Eve.

I'm sorry I keep hurting you. This isn't me repenting and promising never to hurt you again. This is me realizing I'm fucked, and this is me begging for your grace.

Oh, this blinding light is nice

The sun is in my eyes.

It's been 55 some days since I've been able to say that.

Take that S.A.D.

Fuluptinacaputle

I should not:

1. Listen to happy music
2. On Sunny Days
3. It makes me want to travel
4. and I just can't afford that right now

I've just realized that if I can make it through summer without a car, I can afford to go to Eastern Europe for a month at the end of summer. Slovakia anyone? Estonia? Croatia?

And these are dreams, and only dreams, but they keep me going. They are just dreams, because, well, if I don't have a car, I can't make the money to go to Europe. So, I must buy a car, which uses up the money for Europe. Sick cycle, I know.

Anyway, listen to: Let Go by Frou Frou and Just Watch The Fireworks by Jimmy Eat World, and just the whole Keane album in general, and finish off the Garden State album while you're listening to Frou Frou.

I think I'm going to take the dog for a walk.

And in the midst of this, Darfur, new youth pastors, girls, schools, airplanes, businesses, ideas and it's still COLD out. It's all so confusing.

But as a dear friend said, "Your job isn't to be certain about anything. Your job is to love God and love people." That's a relief. But how? God seems so transparent sometimes: I know he's here, but everywhere I look I'm seeing trees and pillows and runways and blue sky. How is it so hard to know someone who's so close? Everything points to the fact that Jesus is still talking... but is he? You'd think he'd work on speaking more clearly, if he really cared to talk to us.

My sunny day is getting clouded by these worries.

Stopping. Toodle pip.

The past 48, a recap.

So today I missed the opportunity of a lifetime, and yesterday I almost died.

We'll start with death, so that we can end on a good note.

It began because I was thirsty. I was on military road near 5 mile lake, and I was thirsty. I started looking for my nalgene. It wasn't in the front seat, so I progressed to the back seat. No go there, but after about 10 seconds I realized, "Hey, I've been looking back here for about 10 seconds... I bet I'm drifting." So I looked up. At that very moment I was greeted with a ditch, one of those very ditches Amber never lets me off-road in. There was a ditch and a stop sign, and I was going 45 mph. So I did what any self respecting Jeep owner does: I swerved. However, I was already becoming horizontal in the ditch so the swerve was a bit abrupt. My tires caught the grass and yanked me back onto the road, with a big clunk where I hit the edge of the pavement. I flew across the yellow lines, corrected hard back onto the shoulder, corrected into the lane, and after a couple of small corrections, continued on my way, never having reduced my speed or hit the brakes. Then I laughed really hard for a long time and had a rather chipper rest of the afternoon.

Then today, I was in downtown Kent, on Meeker Street, in the midst of all those little shops, when I missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I stood on the north sidewalk about to get into my car, when across the street a payphone started ringing. Naturally there was a sudden rush of traffic. I nearly ran in front of a car, but I decided the trauma might be too much for the septagenarian piloting it, and so I waited my turn. The friendly old man took his bloody time passing me, two whole rings. I made my way across the lanes, through parked cars, across the sidewalk, my eyes tunnelvisioned on the ringing payphone. As I crossed I discussed with my shoulder-angels the merits and dangers of answering said payphone. What if there was sniper nearby? Posh, said the courageous angel. Well, what if it's an important phone call for a spy? Courageous angel rolled his eyes. It could be a wrong number. Courageous angel decided that idea was too boring. He and I consulted, and chose to take the risk and answer the phone. So I arrived, and I reached for it, and it stopped ringing. Sigh. It was the first time I've encountered a ringing payphone. What if it's the last? What if the person was dying and was giving a final call for help? What if they were suicidal were searching for a caring soul, and thus, practically speaking, they died because I waited for traffic?

I stood by the phone for a while, waiting for it to ring again. When it didn't I meandered back across the street -- the now empty street -- and wondered how the once annoying rain seemed so poetic now.

And tonight I walked into a door. I just flat out forgot to open it.

And in case anyone was wondering, I haven't actually climbed a snow capped mountain before.

"And" is my new favorite word, because it means people intend to keep talking.