I was in a foul mood yesterday. I mean utterly violently pissed off, judgmental and gross inside. It just happened to be Monday, and Quo Vadis? was planned for the evening....which made me even more frustrated. Why tonight, of all nights? My favorite night of the week. But God is gracious in the darkest rain clouds. I was fighting it so hard, speaking truth loudly in my head when any nasty thought popped up. Over and over again... and again... and a few more times. I didn't feel like I totally won but was I sure fighting!

It was a really fascinating night, a totally different group of people.

At 19.00 it started with two beautiful girls who I've never met coming in "... blah blah.. talking.. nice to meet you.. 'Jaap told us about this' (no clue who Jaap is)... blah blah.. two more people, 'we live around the corner'.. we're not going to stay though... oh okay... (two hours later... still there, having a blast!) and on and on.. brother of so and so.. friend of mine, sister in law, neighbor... It was the most eclectic group...

It's so funny how that happens... just when I try to figure it all out and think that I know who will be there and where people are at in their processing of faith and spirituality/God, etc... then I get it again. I am clueless. Absolutely clueless. And once I just accept that... well.... then I love it! I love the fact that God is bigger than my plans, that He always has the ace card, that He has things up his sleeve that I can never guess (I just love surprises). Believing in a God that can't surprise me, a God that I've figured out.... I couldn't do it. I wouldn't. The power, the bigness, the great mighty yet kind and sincere nearness of God draws me closer and mesmerizes me endlessly (even when at the same time it can be infuriatingly frustrating to not be in control).

And it was midway through the night, sitting at the bar, listening to Julia eloquently tell the story of Jesus as a picture of the love of God, like the love seen as a doctor serves an AIDS patient in Africa or the woman who buys the homeless newspaper weekly and talks to the seller... the love God has for me, for us who despite being rotten annoying not very kind or nice people, loves us. He loves me in my bad mood when I'm cranky for no apparent reason. And I realized again that life is hard and it's normal for me to be human and mad and cranky but in the midst of that God calls me to accept his love and to love others. And in the messy confusing act of doing that is where I know I am, where I am called to be, and where I hope to thrive.

I woke up not wanting to go as usual. As I showered, ate some yogurt, and applied my eyeliner I knew, I always know that good things were going to happen, surprises, glimpses of Jesus. Once a month I join the volunteers at a small soup kitchen. I started going to speak dutch but then I just couldn't stop coming. This particular Friday started with hellos and kisses and warm dutch greetings (I hadn't been there in a couple months so we were extra excited to see eachother). We then sat down in our customary places to smear stacks and stacks and piles of bread. First butter (dutch style), then some with peanut butter, some jam, meat, egg, cheese, and chocolate hagelslag. After the sandwiches were done and the soup sizzling we satt down to tea and coffee, a devotion and some songs. I really have to concentrate then to catch the variety of strong southern and eastern dutch accents.

A half hour later the doors open and the place begins to hum. Hundreds of men and a few women sit and enjoy cups and cups of coffee and dozens of sandwiches. It's especially full in the cold weather. Some wait for a shower, others get clean clothes, and we all sit and talk and relate and be in our humanness together. I usually have a hard time being one of the few women and usually the youngest. I feel strange... I worry that when I'm kind and cheerful and interested in the men's lives, that it's taken the wrong way.

I now remember a talk Eric gave a couple months ago on giving. I will never forget this talk. It hit me in the gut. Sometimes we think, oh we shouldn't give money to people, they may buy drugs, etc. and he spoke right to that mentality by quoting C.S. Lewis.. who said something like, it's better to be thought a sucker, to be taken in by someone who didn't really need money, thinking they would just drink it away - than to keep it, since it would have been better to just have drunk the money ourselves. It's better to be taken in by someone who didn't need money than to miss one person who has real need.

And I thought, it's the exact same thing here... my part, what God calls me to do give love and relate with anyone he puts in front of me. I don't have to worry if they're taking it the wrong way or not. God handles that part. He calls me to give and give and give boldly and generously.

And I was a different person that day... laughing and having fun in the kitchen (got a beautiful red paper rose from one sweet grandpa), had coffee with a man who was born in 1940. Through his rattly breathing he told me stories of what his parents experiences during the war and finally at one point he left unexpectedly. A half hour later he was back with newspapers from 1941, 1943, and 1945! All in dutch, all from papers that are still operating today. It was fascinating to look at the old pages, the articles on life during Nazi occupation, the end of the war, atomic bomb and so on. Finally he slid them across the table and said, they're for you, take them and show your parents. He wouldn't let me refuse. I was so honored.

I walked away that day overwhelmed, thinking... so that's how it's supposed to work! There's such joy and freedom in that kind of giving!

I am from

My sister either came up with this idea or found it somewhere.. don't quiet remember but it's too sweet not to share with the world. It's a fun poetry exercise she did with her first grade students (it can be for any age!) entitled, "I am from."

Here's the idea:

1. Write down sensory memories from childhood/life.

smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste

2. Think about sayings you heard often/ lyrics from songs, like...

"don't let the bed bugs bite"

"safely in his bosom gather"

3. Think about things you smelled, food, mom's perfume, or the feeling of a family blanket

4. Write the senses down, don't explain them, but be detailed. Don't just say, "I am from dad saying " I love you more than the stars" say instead "I am from "I love you more than the stars."

5. Put "I am from" before your memories. List some together.

Here is the one I'm currently working on. It's in process. If you write your own, please write and share it with me! I'd love to read it! You could even have your whole family write one one evening.

"I am from"

I am from dress up, homemade theatre and slippery tile floors.

I am from road trips with zween zween and junkers.

I am from Sam and Pam and Henrietta bedtime stories.

I am from strict French school and kisses on cheeks.

I am from head coverings and cigarettes.

I am from elbow wrinkles and “Swallows and Amazons.”

I am from Pirate’s Cove and fake aunts and uncles.

I am from grandpa and grandma blueberry and God stories.

I am from math with dad, surprise checks in the mail, and free cars.

I am from “we’re moving” and goodbye and hello.

I am from bookworm and "rules are made to be broken."

I am from olives, tangerines, and cream cheese cookies.

I am from mom's sisters and skinny dipping.

I am from trips to Michigan and berry picking.

I am from Saturday morning pancakes and “stand up and walk.”