Foundations

It doesn't look like much, but, to me, this patch of dirt has become a big part of my life in the past few weeks. After years of talking about urban gardening and saying that I'd love to try it someday, I finally picked up a shovel and started to prepare the garden plot in my backyard.

I recently realized that I have harbored a fear of gardening. I'm scared I won't be able to grow anything. I'm scared I will neglect my plants. I'm scared I'll spend time and money only to yield weeds and tasteless vegetables. I'm scared that gardening is too complex. Crop rotation? Cover crop? Caches? When to plant? Garden pests? Gardening is a world I know virtually nothing about.

And yet I have no more excuses not to try gardening. I have a 6'x10' garden plot of land in the backyard of the house I moved into in April. I have no homework (only until September!). And I have an increasing interest in getting my thumbs green. So I've officially started gardening.

I didn't want this experiment to be a showy performance, though. Urban gardening is quite trendy now (which is a great thing!), and I didn't want to take a handful of "before" pictures only to be reminded of my failure if I did not follow through with this experiment. In retrospect, I wish I had taken the time to chronicle the first stage of the garden. The five feet of weeds and overgrowth that dominated the small plot of land. The significant transformation that occurred after only about an hour of weeding. But, what's done is done, and so I begin chronicling the life of my garden in mid-aeration stage.

Sounds technical, right? I'm not actually sure what the method I'm using is called, but I do know that I am incredibly blessed to have re-connected with an old friend who is an excellent gardening. Last week she came over for dinner and gave me some pointers on how to prepare the soil. I had dug up all the weeds, but knew that I needed to show the plot some significant love before throwing seeds or starts in it. The problem was, I didn't know what to do! Thankfully, my friend shared with me a simple method of digging trenches and poking a pitchfork through the dirt in order to loosen up the dirt and make plenty of space for roots to sink in. I'm currently about halfway through this process (and very excited to visit my friend's garden tomorrow!).

As I've been digging in the dirt, I've encounted some pretty interesting finds. I had no idea that this little plot of land would turn into such an archeological dig. I can only imagine the events and situations that led to cigarette packs, nail polish, bits of garbage, and the metal part of a shovel to be buried up to a foot and a half in the ground. Did former residents bury these ideas purposefully? How long had they been in the ground? As disturbing as it was to find so much garbage in the garden, it was encouraging to come across a crop of potatoes. Although only halfway through the process, I've uncovered about 25 potatoes. They don't look too moldy or rotten, but based on the overgrowth, I'm sure they've been hanging out underground for at least a few years.

These small white roots give me hope that the garden will produce life. That seeds will sprout. That in a few months there may be leafy greens on my plate, and next summer there may be
raspberries - all grown in the backyard.

I'm trying not to have too many expectations for myself or the garden. After all, I have far too many interests, and may become tired of gardening tomorrow. But after spending a few hours back there, as well as perusing through books, chatting with gardening friends, visiting demonstration gardens down my street, and exploring how faith and gardening are intertwined, I am eager to continue this process. I find myself thinking and planning, peeking my head out the window to enjoy my progress, and becoming increasingly hopeful for the transformation that just may occur in my very own backyard.

Cinnamon rolls, cabbage patches, and lavendar

Inspired by my love of Washington, and an abrupt change to my summer travel plans, I am currently obsessed with day/weekend trips around my lovely state. What an amazing corner of the world - mountains, ocean, rivers, trees, and lakes. Delicious cups of coffee, homebaked goodies, and rows of flowers. Not to mention the other millions of nooks and crannies, both natural and man-made, just waiting to be explored.

Itching for another day of adventure, Kendra and I set off for an island. Scratching off any island that required ferry travel (day trip = budget trip), we settled for a drive up I-5 and west onto Whidbey Island. As we made the necessary stops for coffee, cash, and gas, little did we know what fantastic adventures would unfold before us throughout our escape from the city.

A roll by any other name:

Knead and Feed. Great name + long line = required breakfast/brunch/lunch pit stop. Walking in the front door, we were immediately in love. A view of the water, sweet aromas, weekenders breakfasting, the biggest cinnamon roll I'd ever seen. We nestled in and eventually decided which delicious-looking breakfast to order (with a side of cinnamon roll, of course).

What a delightful treat it was to spend two hours enjoying scrumptious food, hot coffee, people-watching, an ocean view, and conversation with a dear friend. Though we had only traveled two hours away, it felt like we were on vacation, traveling to new sites, enjoying new tastes, daydreaming about new opportunities.

The Patch

We somehow ended up at a viewpoint overlooking wheat fields. At this viewpoint I learned that there is a rain shadow on Whidbey Island. Note to self, no matter how delicious the cinnamon roll was, never move into the rain shadow! Turning around a bed, we saw a handpainted sign for Cabbage. Yes, friends, we were gazing across a cabbage patch. Hues of greens and purples wove together into a sea of leaves, roots, and spindly plants. Endless rows of bountiful cabbage created a beautiful vegetable patch. Now I just have to meet a cabbage farmer to understand how to cultivate cabbage...

A Taste of Provence

We followed signs to the lavendar farm. Why not, right? A lavendar labyrinth preceded row upon row of lavendar plant, being cultivated that afternoon. We walked around the farm, eventually ending up at a garage when lavendar was being distilled in large copper equipment. A pile of post-distilled lavendar lay steaming in a nearby tub. Kendra picked up some fresh lavendar to take home, as a reminder not only of our adventure, but of her time spent living in the south of France. Final Destination

After experiencing the sights, tastes, and smells of small-town island living, it was time to head to the water. A day of adventure just doesn't feel complete without a total submersion into God's beautiful and amazing creation. Although there were plently of other people enjoying the beach we settled upon, the roar of the waves drowned out background noise. For miles and miles we saw the wonder of the ocean. Endless. Powerful. Soothing. Rythmic. The waves crashed gently on the shore, eventually causing us to put our books down and nap in this peaceful and precious place. Far away from computers, jobs, and the many distractions that capture our attention back in the city. A chance to feel a little more whole.

From front door to front door, we were gone for only ten hours. And yet we had experienced so much. We had dined like queens, seen new sights, and re-filled our spirits in the presence of the ocean. What a blessing daytrips with great friends are. An opportunity to step outside your usual sphere and see things from a new perspective.

Here's to more amazing daytrips!

Water

I'm a novice camper, so was quite grateful to be invited on a camping trip with four other campers who have all the gear and know the ropes of camping. I know it's not that difficult, but I'm not the kind who instinctively can put a tent together, who enjoys working with fire, or who has a backpack filled with water and a tube that sends that water to my mouth when I drink from it. I was awed by all of the gear - the dehydrated food, the stove that folds up into a 10" circle, the headlamps - all of this equipment certainly made experience of camping a little easier and more convenient.

It was on a trip to purify water from the river that I suddenly remembered that for many people around the world, the "hardships" of camping are an everyday experience. I never think about water - where it comes from, what life would be like without it, if it's clean or not. I just turn on the faucet, put a glass underneath the stream, and enjoy. I don't have to worry about purifying it, I don't have to worry about water-born diseases, I don't have to worry about thirst, I don't have to worry about being vulnerable while walking miles to the nearest clean water source, I don't have to worry about anything relating to water.

But when we were camping, I did. Though the water looked beautifully clear and refreshing, I knew it wasn't safe for me to drink it. So I had to laboriously push water through a small purifying tube before I could drink it. My ever-weakening wrists did not appreciate the length of time I spent pumping the purifier. But there was no other choice. Pump, or go thirsty. And going thirsty is not a desirable option when you're hiking in July.

I came home Sunday afternoon, back to a world of water at my fingertips, no pumping required. But I hope to hold this small lesson and carry it with me as I remember the struggles that people around the world face daily. The Spilling Hope campaign my church hosts to raise money for wells in Uganda will certainly take on a new meaning for me after my brief water ephiphany.

Foodie Summer Day

8am: Chocolate croissant and coffee on a small table on the sidewalk outside of the Cowen Grocery cafe. Talk of future dreams, weekly updates, and, of course, chocolate, with a dear friend.

6pm: Phinney Farmer's Market. One flat of berries - half strawberry/half raspberry. Two quesadilla slices filled with beets and seasonal greens.

9pm: Molly Moon's ice cream. Samples? Theo Chocolate and Carrot Cake. Choice? Scout Mint.

Yum.

(Four)th of July

My four-year-old niece went on a photo shoot on the Fourth of July. I present to you her first art show.

Safari on a rug.

Color Study - Red.

Artist Quote: "I'm going to take a picture of dad's beer."

Shout out to grandma.

The Dollhouse.

Fleeing Subject.

Emotion.

Pinochle, Plastic, and Fleece.

We had a great Fourth of July - lots of food and family time (and rain made it a little extra-special for yours truly!). And, of course, our four-year-old keeping us on our toes :)

Strawberry Fields Forever

It's no secret that summer is my least favorite season. Glaring brightness in the sky. Sticky sunscreen film on my skin. Heat. Allergies. Guilty feelings when inside on a sunny day.

But there is one redeeming quality of summer.

Berry-picking.

Every year, my love for berry-picking grows. It doesn't matter what kind of berry, just as long as I'm in a field, with a bucket, alongside friends, picking the sweetness bounty of the earth (one in my mouth, five in the bucket).

I went to Bellingham with some friends, and we decided to pick our first berries of the season on Saturday afternoon. A perfect way to spend a pre-Fourth of July Saturday.

Since Whatcom county is chock-full of u-pick farms just outside of the city, it seemed like it would be simple to find a farm to visit. But after many phone calls, internet searches, and discussion, we realized that finding a farm to visit was not going to be such a simple task.

Why?

Because we were committed to picking at a farm that cares for the environment. And, shockingly enough, they are hard to come by in a county that appears to be environmentally-friendly.

I admit that I do not always buy organic fruits and vegetables. But this weekend I was determined to respect not only the earth, but farmers who were committed to caring for their land by not using pesticides or fertilizers to grow their berries.

Calling around to a few farms, we found some pretty low prices ("$1.25/pound - what a deal!"), but quickly realized that any price less that $3/pound certainly meant that the farm used conventional methods such as sprays, pesticides, fertilizers, etc. I don't know too much about farming methods - I just know that spraying chemicals on the plants or the soil is not so good for anyone or anything involved in the whole process.

The only farm that was open was about 15 minutes away, and didn't sound too promising (rain = bad weather = small crop = not many berries left when we wanted to pick), but we decided to check it out. I'd been to this farm before, and knew it was quite small. But we figured that the farmers could possibly direct us to another organic farm if they didn't have any berries left.

We arrived, picked up some baskets, and walked with the farmer out to the field. Wearing a bucket hat and round glasses, he told us about his strawberries. He said he was surprised that people were coming out of the fields with full baskets of berries. Apparently they were hiding quite well, available to those who were willing to search for them. He found a few good berries for us, and sent us on our way. About twenty other berry-pickers were enjoying the early afternoon on the farm. Some twin two-year-olds kept running back and forth between the strawberry patches where their mom and grandma were picking. I enjoyed munching on the pieces of heavenly goodness that were lying unsuspectingly underneath lush green leaves (which were unfortunately causing quite a rash on my arms!).

It was a perfect outing. For us, the environment, the farmer. Although I am on a budget, I was more than willing to pay more for these organic berries. Because I paid the cost to grow berries as they are meant to be grown. Whole. Natural. Delicious.

The end of the story? The berries found their way to Fourth of July dessert. Scones, whipping cream, and sliced strawberries. Just a little bit of heaven.

Why is it that...

...I always am blogging in my head, but don't have the discipline to pull posts together?

I am becoming increasingly scattered and frantic as I add more and more to my life (and my thoughts seem to multiple at an exponential rate). I mean, who goes to the bathroom and comes out with a new career idea? This girl. Often. (Yesterday at six pm I decided that I'm going to become a career counselor at a community college, naturally).

Why can't I quiet down and focus my thoughts? Why does my mind go bananas on a regular day? Poor time management? Too much on my plate?

I don't have the answers to the above questions. I think it's a combination of too many people to meet, too many hobbies to pursue, too many books to read, too many things to learn + too many movies to watch, too many blogs to read, too many things to consume + things I have to do (work, sleep, eat, breath, exercise) + multi-multi-multi-tasking = my challenge at achieveing a balanced, non-frantic life.

My pastor is always talking about developing a rule of life - habits that help us lead the kind of life God wants us to lead: balanced, giving, prayerful, hopeful, etc. Perhaps I should focused on developing such habits. There are definitely changes I could make to my life, but it's difficult to decide what to cut down on when most of them are so life-giving. It's a cruel irony when these life-giving activities begin to have the opposite effect when I try to do too many of them :)

Oh, well, I leave this post with no new revelations (probably because I'm simultaneously facebook-chatting with a friend and listening to my Band of Horses pandora station, thinking about the laundry in I have in the dryer and the grocery list I still haven't written for tomorrow), but with a bit of too-be-continued reflection.

The discipline of blogging/journaling/reflecting is one I want to improve on, so, score me for a blog post tonight.

One day at a time...

Bookday

My birthday was wonderful for very many reasons: it was golden; tea, spaghetti, cheesecake, and donuts were consumed; Disney songs were sung; the lake was walked around; and rain fell.

But it was also wonderful because it involved an hour and a half at my favorite place: 2 stories of books - new, old, classic, foreign, you name it, you find it. Since discovering the Half Price books on Capitol Hill in April, I'd planned to pay a visit there on my birthday. So after spending the morning and afternoon enjoying a pot of tea with my roommate and a walk around the lake with a friend, I headed to Capitol Hill (with a backseat full of library books, mind you) to spend a delightful afternoon browsing through new potential friends. Here's a summary of my findings:

The Crisis of Islam, Bernard Lewis:

After having a challenging conversation with some friends about Islam this past week, I've realized that I need to stop talking about how I need to learn more about Islam, and at least take a step towards self-education. This book was a dollar and doesn't appear too intimidating which means I may just pick it up within the next few weeks.

The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis:

This book has been on my to-read list for quite some time, though I actually don't know specifically what it's about. As someone who faces pain (but who doesn't?), I am eager to be encouraged by the wise words of Mr. Lewis on this challenging subject.

The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton

My literary mentor + His journal about his trip through Asia = Pretty much the most excited I've been to read a book in a long time. The worlds of faith, culture, Asia, religion, adventure, insight, and reflection collide!

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, Alexander McCall Smith

For only a dollar, I should've picked up all eight copies! I'm forever lending this book out, so figure I needed a new copy because EVERYONE needs to read this series. Yelena was the lucky birthday guest to take this copy home tonight!

Burmese Language Book

On the Best Buy clearance shelf was a stack of Burmese language books. After a double-take, I knew I had to have a copy. It was just calling my name.

I also bought a journal, which brought the grand total to $13.95 (after a 20% Memorial Day discount).

Birthday bookday = Success.

I think this needs to happen next year. And maybe tomorrow as well.

Mr. Yunus

Thanks to my friend Liz and the power of Facebook, I discovered that Muhammad Yunus was speaking in Seattle.

As an aspiring social entrepreneur, I knew I couldn't miss this opportunity. I'd read Yunus' first book, Banker to the Poor, a few years earlier, and am in the beginning stages of learning about microcredit, so how could I pass up the chance to hear from Mr. Microcredit himself?

Emily, a classmate who'd lived in Bangladesh for a few years, joined me as we made our way downtown to city hall for the lecture. I told a few people about my evening plans, but none of them knew who Mr. Yunus was. Seriously? He won the Nobel Peace Prize, people - he's kind of a big deal.

We waited in anxious anticipation as we watched a preview for a documentary film coming out in the fall - To Catch a Dollar - that explores Mr. Yunus' work in microcredit. Hopefully more people will become aware of the power of microcredit through this film - I can't wait to see it!

As Mr. Yunus walked out on stage, the audience stood up in applause. A standing ovation before the lecture - I wasn't sure I'd ever experienced this before. The audience soon settled down and waited to hear what Mr. Yunus had to say.

Let me tell you, his words came at a perfect time for me. As I'm in the process of trying to focus my research and thesis, Mr. Yunus reminded me of my interest and passion in income-generating projects as a means to obtain self-sufficiency. He spoke of the power of social business, and how ordinary, illiterate people are using microcredit to develop viable income-generating opportunities for themselves and their communities. How much more then, he encouraged us, can educated, literate people unleash the power of microcredit to affect positive social change?

I realized during his lecture that though I'm quite interested in many aspects of human trafficking - border patrol, citizenship issues, cultural values, religious beliefs, etc., etc., etc. - I need to focus on income-generating opportunities because this is the foundation of my interest. Thank you, Mr. Yunus, for helping me focus!

Well, in accordance with my budget, I wasn't going to purchase any of his books that evening (though I desperately wanted to!). But by the end of the lecture, I slowly slide my credit card from it's usual perch at the top of my wallet as I stood in line to buy Creating a World Without Poverty (Emily had bought the book before the lecture so I'd had ample opportunity to gaze longingly at it as it rested between us). I purchased the book and we scooted over to the meet and greet line. Yes, friends, I was going to meet Mr. Yunus himself.

Now, I must say, I'm a bit starstruck. The closer we got to the front of the line, the faster my heart started beating. He's just another person, Ellie, I kept telling myself. And yet ordinary people don't win the Nobel Peace Prize, ordinary people don't create revolutionary economic systems, other people haven't changed the world for millions of people. Mr. Yunus is no ordinary man.

We strategized our approach before placing our books in the signing pile. Emily greeted Mr. Yunus in Bengali, and they shared a bit of conversation before he asked her if I spoke Bengali as well. She shook her head no, and then I realized what they were talking about. I said to him, No, I don't speak Bengali. And he looked at me and said (this time in English), how did you know what we were talking about?! I told him, context. We laughed. I then asked if I could take my picture with him, and he told me no, he would only take a picture with me if I spoke Bengali. We laughed again. I was joking around with Mr. Yunus. Seriously? I got behind the table and told him that I would learn some Bengali before I saw him again. I touched his shoulder. Emily took our picture. Did I just touch Mr. Yunus? We said goodbye and floated away, all the way back to the car.

The drive home was full of :I can't believe that just happened"s and "I am so glad we went tonight"s and "Can we look at the signature again?"s.

An amazing night. An amazing speaker. An amazing concept.

Time to Shop

Wednesday was the breaking point.

It's no secret that I do not enjoy shopping. Wasting time, spending money, and not knowing if I'm indirectly promoting slave labor. What's to love? The more active I've gotten in abolition work, the more convicted I've become. How can I support anti-trafficking causes when I wear clothes that people whose human rights have been violated made? It seems quite counter-productive, not to mention hypocritical.

I've successfully avoided buying new clothes for quite sometime. Chasing around after Mr. Binky means that my work uniform is usually hole-y jeans and sweatshirts. It's not exactly a fashion show when you have shoemarks and smeared food all over your clothes. In this manner, my deteriorating clothes actually come in handy. But when I was getting ready for an internship on Wednesday, I put on a black sweater and, suddenly, saw my clothes in a new light. A light that revealed how worn most of my clothes looked. I took off the sweater, knowing that I could never wear it again. That no one should ever wear it again. Ever.

Thankfully, I managed to pull an outfit together and made it to work on time. But the seed had been planted, and it was only a matter of days before I found myself riding up the escalator to the women's department of the Gap.

The Gap. A classic Ellie store. Few items. Multiple colors. Uncluttered store. Predictable. Classy. Simple.

The words of David Batstone (founder of the Not For Sale campaign) resonated with me as I browsed through the myriad of (adorable!) sweaters. The Gap received a B- on the free2work rating scale (a scale that rates a companies supply chain accountability and violation of human rights). Now, according to Batstone, a B- is not an A, but nor is it a D. A B- is much better than a D. So, for the sake of wearing clothes that don't look like they've been worn since the 70s (and because I had a giftcard), I purchased two sweaters from the Gap. And yes, they are the same sweater, just in different colors (perhaps that's the topic of another post...!).

I walked out of the store, plotting how I would dispose of my existing black cardignan - a sweater that should have been discontinued seven months ago, but was a near-daily part of my wardrobe due to functionality and comfort. There's no shape to this sweater. None. It hangs on me like a lifeless shadow of a once-beautiful garment. My new black cardignan had life and youth in it. It was ready to be worn. Ready to take on the world.

My next stop was Buffalo Exchange, a second-hand clothing store. I love the idea of recycling clothes, but sadly didn't find anything that fit me well, so I headed down to Urban Outfitters.

I had spent 10 minutes the night before searching various phrases such as "Urban Outfitters - Supple Chain Accountability" and "Urban Outfitters & Slave Labor." My research findings? Nothing except a few rants on a few blogs. Nothing on their website, and no ratings on free2work or the Better Buyer Guide.

But I went anyways. And found a cute sweater on sale. And when I looked at the tag, read that it was made in America. Happiness.

Today I wore that grey sweater. Putting on a piece of new clothing was a wonderful (and foreign) feeling. I felt good. I felt like wearing clothes wasn't just a necessary evil, but a fun expression of my style.

I'm not going to go crazy, but plan to do a bit more shopping this weekend, as well as to comb through my clothes and get rid of the many too-often-worn shirts.

I guess shopping isn't always such a bad thing - but it definitely is something we can spend more time thinking about instead of just rushing off to buy the latest fashion.

For more information on how to check the ethics of your favorite companies, check out:

www.free2work.org
www.betterworldshopper.com/rankings

La Bibliotheque

Today I became a card-carrying member of the Seattle Public Library. It was long overdue - I moved into the city nearly 2 months ago. But since I am still an avid King County Library System user (I try not to go over the lake too much, but it still happens a few times a week!), I seemed to always have good excuses not to stop by the library and get a card (and I usually didn't have a piece of mail with my new address on me).

But today, after work, I stopped by the Greenlake branch - a scenic, old building, perfect for my home branch :) I filled out the online application, took my confirmation number to the front, and was given a detailed explanation of my new rights as a SPL member. I signed my card, and walked out into the sunny late afternoon with a sense of excitement. Now, millions of books are at my fingertips. Give search, click, and boom - books and other resources sent from around the system to my branch. An email notice, dropping by the branch to pick it up, and there, in my hands, new ideas and thoughts.

How blessed are Americans to have such amazing library systems? To have access to scholarly articles, DVDs, books, magazines, computers - not to mention programs such as storytimes, computer classes, book clubs, and lectures. To have a community place that promotes inclusion, learning, and diversity. To have librarians answer questions and provide information. And all of it absolutely free.

In my opinion, one of the best things about America is the library. I know that many countries have excellent, government-funded library systems, but I also know that many countries do not. With no library system, people have less access to information, ideas, and knowledge. Children do not have picture books. There are less community meeting places. Communicating with family members around the world becomes limited.

So, with great thankfulness, I confess that I am a member of four library systems - Whatcom County, King County, Snohomish County, and, as of today, the city of Seattle. I will continue to keep collecting library memberships throughout my life (but have no current plans of moving away:) ), and continue to be thankful for the amazing resource that the government provides to people living in this country.

Now, I wonder when my nine holds will be in to my King County Library System branch...sometimes I get a little hold-happy!

Thomas Merton - Ceaseless Motion

"How many there are who are in a worse state still: they never even get as far as contemplation because they are attached to activities and enterprises that seem to be important. Blinded by their desire for ceaseless motion, for a constant sense of acheivement, famished with a crude hunger for results, for visible and tangible success, they work themselves into a state in which they cannot believe that they are pleasing God unless they are busy with a dozen jobs at the same time. Sometimes they fill the air with lamentations and complain that they no longer have any time for prayer, but they have become such experts in deceiving thmselves that they do not realize how insincere their lamentations are. They not only allow themselves to be involved in more and more work, they actually go looking for new jobs. And the busier they become the more mistakes they make. Accidents and errors pile up all around them. They will not be warned. They get further and further away from reality - and then perhaps God allows their mistakes to catch up with them. Then they wake up and discover that their carelessness has involved them in some gross and obvious sin against justice, for instance, or against the obligations of their state. So, having no interior strength left, they fall apart."

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, p. 206

Seattle Fair Trade Festival

Cara and I finally found the Seattle Fair Trade festival after ten minutes of driving up and down Greenwood Ave. I expected balloons, posters, and other markers of a community festival, but the Seattle Fair Trade festival consisted of about ten booths, handmade signs blowing away in the wind, and an assortment of handicrafts laid on sheets in the parking lot.

Instead of being discouraged by the smallness of the festival, I was thankful for its existence. Hopefully, as people become more and more interested in ethical consumerism, the festival will grow in size and effectiveness. More people will become aware. More fairly-traded products will be purchased. More people will receive a living wage and a higher quality of life.

A highlight of the festival was a conversation with a staff member from Equal Exchange, a group that works with primarily coffee and cacao (chocolate beans) farmers. After learning more about how EE partners with communities to ensure fair prices and quality products, he gave Cara and I a generous sample of fairly-traded coffee.

With a deep inhale of my fairly-traded coffee beans, I thought, what a great way to start the weekend!

Will I ever learn?

There are so many things I know in my head, yet can't seem to transfer to my heart.

I know I'm not designed to run around trying to do everything I possibly can, but I do.
I know I can't have meaningful relationships with everyone I meet, but I try.
I know I can't experience everything I want to, but I continue to fill up my schedule.

I'm learning more and more about the rhythms of life - service, work, prayer, worship, and rest. And yet, I'm certainly much better at some of them than others. Friends meeting for dinner? I'm there. Walk around the lake? Yes, please. Church at 5pm? I'll pick you up. Clearing my schedule for meaningful rest and reflection? Um...could you ask me something different - like to watch a documentary, learn a new language, or freshly-baked cookies?

I know God calls me to rest in Him, but what about those who work 16 hours a day/7 days per week? Am I justified in my rest with the knowledge that so many people are currently experiencing extreme human rights violations? If I was in an oppressive situation, wouldn't I be angry if I knew that people were resting when they could be helping to secure my freedom?

When I start spiraling down this line of thought, I have to stop and remember that, as Oscar Romero wrote, I am not the Master Builder, but a worker. I am a minister, and not the Messiah. I do not have all the answers. I do not know how everything fits together. And so my position must be one of obedience. I must look to Christ to understand how to live this journey. And He clearly calls us to rest, to refreshment, to peace - not to frantic work and schedules bursting at the seams.

How to acheive this balance of rest and work, sabbath and service, community and solitude is perhaps the greatest challenge of my journey. And yet, because I have the perfect Master Builder as my guide, there is hope that, by following His blueprint, I will achieve greater balance as we continue to journey together.

Morning Commute

No matter how many times I've seen Mt. Rainier on a clear day, I still am never left with my breath when I catch a first glimpse of it. Because it. is. breathtaking.


God, thanks for this little breathtaking mountain.

And that I didn't crash my car while taking this picture.

Tuesday Night

Free Them 5k

It's not a secret.

Around the world, millions of women, children, and men are victims of human trafficking.

It is easy to let this staggering statistic paralyze us from taking action. What sort of action can we take to affect any change? How can we be involved in the abolitionist movement in our communities? There are many answers to these questions, and I participated in one answer on Saturday morning at the Free Them 5k.

World Concern sponsored this community walk to generate awareness and funds for the many anti-trafficking companies that the organization runs. The result? Over 800 walkers/runners, $70,000, and a whole lot of participation in the anti-trafficking movement.

In speaking with a World Concern staff member last week, I realized the importance of creating and participating in venues that allow people to feel a part of the solution. Not everyone will (or should) go to Italy to work with victims of trafficking, not everyone will visit their state representative to advocate for anti-trafficking initiatives, not everyone will donate large sums of money to anti-trafficking causes - but everyone can go for a walk (run/wheel/name your mode of transportation!) on a Saturday morning in support of anti-trafficking efforts.

Make sure to check out the 3rd annual Free Them 5k in 2011!

Some of the crew:Caitlin and Ryan demonstrating that you can roll in support of anti-trafficking efforts (though they both made a running debut during the walk!)

Anna shows that you're never too young to support the cause!

The Good Life ... Continues

This morning marked marked the second bi-monthly Friday roommate breakfast on Ashworth Ave. The menu? Crepes. Oh, yes.

First up, Granny Smith and brie crepes. Concluding course, Nutella and strawberry crepes.

Company? Excellent. Food? Divine.
There is just something so special about breakfast. Yes, community dinners are excellent - but breakfast? Well, maybe it's the newness of the day, or the sleep that slowly disappears from your eyes, or the anticipation of the day to come, or the very deliciousness of it. All I know is that Jesus said to his disciples, "Come and have breakfast," (John 21:12) so breakfast, we shall!Not a bad way to start the day? You can enjoy community breakfast, too! All it takes is a little planning, and a big appetite.

The Good Life

Today was a gift.

A gift of friends, food, the lake, laughter, tea, cookies, and all the things that make life so good.

It started early this morning. I snipped some purple flowers from the front yard in anticipation of a very special breakfast. A friend was stopping by on his way to the airport. We hadn't seen each other in months and he was moving back to his country (is still on the plane as I'm writing) - so, needless to say, this breakfast warranted special attention.

We ate thick slices of homemade bread covered in cheese and eggs (which I not-so-gracefully cooked), strawberries, and lots of cups of tea. We reminisced, we talked about future plans, and we breakfasted.

The inevitable came to soon and I had to leave for work. I bid him farewell and headed off to spend the day with Mr. Binky. He and I raced cars back and forth, dug in the sandbox, watched some Thomas the Tank Engine, and carefully put stickers on a recycled piece of paper.

Mr. Binky's mom got home early, so I had an unexpected hour in my day. Just enough time to meet a friend to walk around the lake. It was a gorgeous afternoon - a great time to catch up, stretch our legs, and people-watch.

My second lake-date showed up just as I returned home from my first lap around the lake. My second date and I enjoyed another beautiful stroll around the lake. I saw a couple of turtles and many of the same people I had seen on my first lap, which made me think that this whole two-lap thing is not something unique to myself.

Just as we turned the corner to my street, our dinner date called me. She had just arrived to my house. Perfect timing. My second lake-date and I reached my house, greeted our dinner date, and I set out the chips and salsa as I set to heat up our dinner. As we sat down to eat, my roommate arrived home so I set another place setting out. A dinner of four. Perfect.

The corn, bean, and quinoa salad, in addition to the sweet potato fries, turned out to be a delicious meal. The warm glow of the overhead lamp reminded me of the lighting in the credits of tv shows when a family is shown eating dinner together through the front window. Very cozy, very homey - just how every meal should be.

After dinner, we pulled some frozen cookie dough out of the freezer and threw a pan of cookies in the oven (note to self: always have frozen cookie dough available in the freezer), heated water for tea, and settled down into the comfy couches and chairs that make up our living room.

The day drew to an end over a plate with cookie residue and weakened tea bags.

Today was a gift.

A gift of friends, food, the lake, laughter, tea, cookies, and all the things that make life so good.

Awe-ful

Doesn't sound good, does it? And yet it was the best word I came up with when I was watching a peacock this morning.

Let me back up.

One of my places of work is the Woodland Park Zoo. The little boy I nanny (let's call him Mr. Binky) and I frequently go to check out the tractor, the flamingos, Zoomazium, the zoo trucks, the puddles, the penguins (you get the picture). This morning, we saw the peacock standing on a post near the goat pen. The brilliant blue and green hues seemed entirely out of place next to the matted hair and widely-set eyes of the goats. We checked it out for a few minutes (me continually holding Mr. Binky back for fear of his little hand grabbing a fistful of peacock feathers!), then went to check out some more exciting happenings, like the statue of a chicken. A few minutes later, I look over and see the peacock has opened (I'm not sure the correct biological term for this) and it's feathers are towering over it's body in a perfect half-circle.

Wow.

All I could think of was who could ever have dreamed up something as crazy-awesome as a peacock?

And that is when I realized how frequently God displays his awe-fulness to us.

Through the beautiful display of the peacock.

Through a healed wound.

Through the growth of a child.

Through the Cascade mountains.

Through moments of laughter, conversation, and community.

Thanks, God, for being so awe-ful.