Broccoli and Brain Food

One of my favorite pop culture moments happened when the crafts tycoon Martha Stewart made an appearance on CBS's The Early Show in 2002. At the time, Stewart was under intense public scrutiny because of allegations that she had cheated the public by fraudulently trading stocks.

During the cooking segment of that show, Stewart was shredding lettuce when one of the hosts started to aggressively question her about her legal troubles. As the tension on the set rose, Stewart awkwardly continued mixing fruits and vegetables. The host would not relent, but Stewart eventually performed a brilliant evasive maneuver by cutting the host off and then delivering the now famous line, "I just want to focus on my salad." Everyone was stunned, and Stewart was temporarily off the hook as the hosts tried to process her remark.

Even though she would later be found guilty of the charges, I've always liked her quote because, first, it's hilarious and also because it touches on a concept that I really like, which is finding peace and refuge in a hobby.

For Martha Stewart, there was shalom in making a salad.

Now, I'm not trying to argue that it's acceptable for people to suppress the truth or to escape reality; however, I believe that there are legitimate situations when people should block out the rest of the world and simply enjoy a hobby.

In my life, there have been times when I was intensely struggling with something -- from physical trials to unrequited "love" -- and I felt like my entire existence was being hijacked by my problem, despite my best efforts to resist. No matter how hard I tried to focus on God, his Word, his goodness and his promises, I couldn't stop myself from being consumed by my own sin-tainted thoughts and worries. Yet I've learned that one of the ways that God has comforted me during those hard times was by blessing me with the opportunity to do a hobby I love such as building Legos or playing hockey, which provided me with some much needed mental relief.

I think a lot of people would say that some of their favorite hobbies actually require very little brain power too. When you're doing them, your instincts take over and you don't even have to think -- or at least not very hard. There's freedom in that. You're having fun and you don't even know it.

As magnificent as the human mind is, with its power to create massive fictional worlds and its ability to process incredibly complex ideas, it is also vulnerable to going haywire. For me, when I'm under stress and I allow my thoughts to wander freely, it can get ugly. That's when I need my "mindless" fun!

I think the Apostle Paul experienced the blessing of hobbies too. While it's clear from his writing that Paul was a very intelligent and highly educated man who could debate philosophy, law and ethics with the best of them, Paul was also someone who worked with his hands as a tent maker (Acts 18:3).

I'm sure there were times when Paul was in the midst of a crazy trial -- such as persecution -- but in spite of that was still able to find moments when he would think about nothing else except for one simple task: building a tent. Maybe one time his friend was pestering him about preparing rebuttals for certain arguments against the gospel that they would hear at the synagogue the next day, and Paul responded with something along the lines of, "Honestly, I'm just focused on cutting this fabric right now. Hand me that knife please."

Does this mean that Paul was ignoring God or distracting himself from his true mission? No, in fact, I believe he was glorifying God through his work, which rejuvenated him and in turn prepared him for other kingdom work. When Paul finished a high-quality tent, I think God would have said -- though maybe not explicitly -- "well done good and faithful servant."

It's a beautiful thing how God has given every person certain interests and desires that can serve as their outlets in difficult times. Because of that blessing, someone can say, "Yeah, the divorce is getting really messy but I'm going to go practice organ now because I'm playing at service tomorrow." Or someone can say, "I'll deal with that after I'm done sailing." For those people, it's nice to momentarily live in a peaceful world shrunk down to the size of their crafts.

These days, I do have some things that are weighing heavily on me, and I know that I need to get in the Word and pray while "girding up the loins of my mind." (1 Peter 1:13). But I also need to remind myself that when I go to lunch and get to the salad bar, I have to remember Martha Stewart's quip, to put all my trying circumstances aside, and to just enjoy myself and "focus on my salad."

early in the morning on the first day of the week...

from a woman not so unlike me, 2000 years ago:

i had just begun to think maybe it was all worthwhile. all the smallness, the awkwardness of my early life. the way i lost my family when i went to my husband, the fisherman. the many times i wanted to say something to my husband, to explain, but didn’t. because i knew he wouldn’t understand.

i had finally found someone who let me belong, who listened. even when i didn’t speak, he seemed to understand. seemed to take all that fear and drudgery and infuse it with hope.

but i guess i was wrong. and now its over, and what is hope? why did i put all my hope in one place? he is gone now. i saw it myself, when the light went out of his eyes. that terrible day, i was reduced again to silence in the face of his mockers.

and the worst is that despite all appearance of despair, something in me won’t let go. it seemed, as he sat silent before the crowd, and silent on his cross, that he knew something more than we know. it seemed that perhaps he would defy them all and come down, miraculous...make all things well...

but instead he left us alone. i’ve no idea what to do, but keep attending him, loving him now as i did then, hoping in him now as i did then, though it is hopeless now. i can’t sleep this morning so mary and i will go down to his tomb and bring fragrances, our last act of love to him who left us on a path to nowhere.

God please make something beautiful of this mess...

to a friend

i thought of you today,
driving around in the blooming air of springtime, breathing in fresh grass,
it reminded me of beautiful times with you, and your appreciation for every day of life
the blue skies and warm breeze reminded me of your desire to live on a farm in the country land,
and your house with the barn

i remember being so jealous of you due to a certain circumstance,
wondering why i got stuck behind in the previous stage of life
you, with your jacuzzi and your furry cat, and games to play and wool to knit
you, with your colorful and artful side.
you, taking in with joy each breath of life.

and now we see the crystal vows have become dull and lost their shine
the dreams shattered into pieces,
yours and mine.
we also see rebirth and resurrection:
joy, fresh grass, renewed life, and spring.

and you and i have ended up similar to each other
(i would say),
except this sunny april day, as i breathed in the freshness,
i have concluded it's ok for you to stay
right where you want to be, out in the country,
i won't keep pressuring you to move into the city,
(unless of course your calling takes you here)
because i care for you, and want you to enjoy nature to the fullest.
thousands of years have not undermined God's creation's glory
on this april day, go take it in.

A life imagined

I wake early and I am out the door in minutes. I cannot be groggy in this brisk morning air. The walk through the woods is a mile long, but the birds sing, and so do I. You are with me when I sing. I sift dirt through my fingers as I pull weeds; I sift the thoughts, relationships, and responsibilities through my mind but they do not worry me. Tiny green leaves miraculously rise from the ground. When I return I think of sitting down to pray, but find I've been praying all morning long. I go to see my good friend Georgia this morning. We drink a cup of coffee and laugh. Then we work to write about her family, her songs, her history. It is a project that I began several years ago. We work slowly, but there is time. The afternoon is for the children. I arrive early to practice the piano. It is discipline that brings joy. When the girls come at 2, we sing, learn piano, and talk about the things that people talk about in quiet voices at night. I feel you in the silences, and know they do too. There is no doubt they are yours. The day closes and I sit on the porch to thank you and to write these interwoven stories that beg to be told. A friend interrupts, and we run out in the street with a frisbee. I will not get back to my writing tonight. Even as the night falls I do not fear the time; I am younger now than when I was not so old. The golden trees will be there tomorrow. The children are sleeping and they are loved. This longing as I gaze at the moon is neither sorrow nor anxiety but only the certain hope that I will see tomorrow, for I know that tomorrow will be as pregnant as today.

Resurrection(s)

When my good friend Margarita invited me to contribute to this blog, I was excited at the prospect and I asked her what the title was.

"Resurrections," she said. Honestly, I wasn't too crazy about that title right away because, for me, it conjured up images of zombies, vampires and other nasty things crawling out of graves and wandering in the night. (Yeah, I've seen too many sci-fi movies.)

I also rarely think about resurrection in the plural sense, and further, I don't think people even say "resurrections" -- just like no one says "furnitures" or "pastas". There's the resurrection in the same way that there's the White House, singular.

However, once I put aside my gut reaction and started thinking about what it means for the believer to be "raised with Christ," it didn't take me long before I figured out that the founders of the blog were probably exploring this idea of how resurrections are all around us in various ways.

At the individual level, each believer is a new and glorious creation in Christ, a resurrection. And within the story of that person's life, there will be many parts where the gospel makes seemingly dead things come to life, such as broken relationships, forgotten and suppressed talents, and lost hopes. At the Creation level, there are villages that have seen land that had previously been absolutely barren for decades suddenly flourish after prayer.

These are all, for lack of a better term, mini or micro resurrections. Christ rising from the grave and securing eternal life is the macro and ultimate resurrection.

Maybe I'm getting the concept of resurrection confused with restoration since the two are closely related, but either way, it's amazing that true life is springing forth here and now, that it's a free gift, and that it will one day be the only thing we know.

The background graphic of this blog, a grass field with plants and seeds, is somewhat ironic because all those things will eventually die, yet I also think it's a good image for celebrating eternal things because, as the Bible says, "So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable." (1 Corinthians 15: 42)

What has been resurrected is eternal -- along with the good works that come out of that -- and I'm looking forward to celebrating those things through this blog.

the tragedy of disconnectedness

i do not think we'll ever get to be what we could be
we are already not what we have been,
at least not what i thought we had been
sometimes i look at these things you say and wonder , "who are you?"
i thought i knew you,
i thought i knew you well
it's sad: it seems we cannot be what i thought we could be
because i think it could have been quite good..

it's a little painful, swallowing the bitterness of endings
and new beginnings that do not include us marching to the beat of the same drum
but i will vow to be patient.
God has something good for me,
i know He does, it just takes time to watch it blossom
but every time i get the joyful reminders,
they come around the same time as the bitter stabs of pain,
i am reminded that i can be patient, for His promise is good.

someday it will all make sense, and the bitter pain will melt away
i will be at peace completely, and be happy
as will you.

i watch you chase your own tail and the empty packages filled with nothing
it's sad and i miss having you around
i miss having you understand me and knowing that we share in life.

perhaps one day you will see what i'm running after
and it will illuminate your life
perhaps one day you will no longer chase the crap
perhaps we'll finally share in Life.

until then, i promise to be patient
cuz God is working, every day.

i think this is the biggest tragedy of humanity:
missed opportunities
to get to connect with each other
sometimes i long to get to know a person closer,
but they resist out of their own accord.

and i think this is why facebook takes up so much of our time-
we long to grow in our connections to others,
we want to know that we belong,
but throw away the chances God gives us to do so in real life.
do we really know each other?

Rest in Pillows

One sunny afternoon, I was running down the national mall in my ripped corduroy jacket and sweatpants with an abnormally light backpack on my back. Struggling to run across the grass as quickly as possible, I passed by two tall twenty-something white guys and giggled. Their large Target brand bags revealing the obvious pillows, they smirked and asked if I was going to the same place. “Uh huh!” I exclaimed, with an unmistakable excitement in my voice.

My friend Ryan was sitting by the fountain and smiling as he waved me down. “I think they are starting,” he said as soon as I took off my jacket and backpack. We heard cheering as we ran in, leaving behind everything but our pillows.

There it was. Pandemonium! People – humanity - dancing the soulful dance of life without missing a step. Sprinting to sneak slams of softness, we giggled and grunted. We came there, weary and bogged down by the obligations and notions, and we climbed out of them the way we did our jackets, tossing them aside with backpacks, to be forgotten, even if only for a minute. We engaged in childlike play, and I pray that at least some of us can taste the childlike faith. No time or opportunity to over-analyze or trivialize. We existed in simple thankfulness, confidence, and peace.

I saw the reflection of the sun in the stranger’s eyes and giggled with her as we were both ambushed by the pillows of grown adults and small children. People of all shapes and sizes were laughing together, sharing in joy, and connecting in a nonverbal way. Now, that’s what I call nonverbal communication! On the outskirts of the naturally formed circle, photographers performed complex acrobatics as they struggled to protect expensive cameras while documenting the beautiful battle of peace.

An outsider approached me asking what it was about, and I said honestly that “people just decided to have a pillow fight and there it is.”

Nothing else mattered besides the energy exchanged between the tens or hundreds of us, constantly in motion and squishiness. Issues of race, identity, sexuality, purpose... They didn’t matter anymore. Neither did our political views, church affiliations, self-image, choice of words, salary, dating history, number of friends, and guilt. It didn’t matter if we did our devotionals or lived sustainably, if we drove or biked or rode the bus. It didn’t matter if anyone in our family had cancer or if we had a 401k account. It didn’t matter who might like who or who is getting married next, or who told a lie, or who didn’t like their roommates. Didn’t matter if your grandma is alive or if you were a bad friend because you didn’t provide your friend the right kind of support when hers was dying. Didn’t matter if you missed the fun concert your friends all went to, or if your crush was potentially interested in somebody else. Didn’t matter what your parents think of your life choices or what you will be like as a parent yourself. Didn’t matter how many people thought you were ugly or cute or what your grades were. Didn't matter if you had pimples and which desires of yours hadn't been fulfilled. Didn’t matter if you were an awkward loner or had a hard time trusting others in the past. Didn’t matter what sin you struggled with for hundreds of days. Didn’t matter what mistakes you or your parents or your spouse made. Didn’t matter whom you have hurt or where you have failed. Joy was present and the struggles were forgotten.

“What a bunch of fools!” one may exclaim watching the occasion from the outside. Many of us were young professionals, college graduates who carry important titles and wear black socks to work. But today, we shed these scaly dead skins of identity and were just children of God. I think that is why so many people wanted to watch and document the occasion.. Because it was so freeing to see the simple things transcend the complexities of modern society.
“Come to me, all you weary,” Jesus says, “and I will give you rest.” (Matt 18:28) His yoke is easy and his burden is light (like a pillow!). We came weary of our job titles, degrees and snobbery, heartbreak and arrogance, selfishness and loneliness. We came weary of wearing black socks while watching radiation spread in Japan, and weary of hurting the humanity that Jesus loved so much. Weary of our own sin and the sin of others, the toils and tears of life. Weary of banging our heads against the wall and failing to find Peace on Earth. And He gave us Rest - in pillows, but not in sleep. Rest in a joyful mystery that transcended the politics and confusion of this political place.

“I think there will be pillow fights in heaven!” I blurted out, my joy uncontainable. People around me laughed in a way that made me think they did not understand.

I had seen glimpses of God’s presence in a Heavenly way. Maybe some prophet spoke of something like this. I don’t know. This reminded me of the time that I saw the patients of a local psychiatric hospital going out on a day pass. Smelly, stuttering, unsteady gait… Looking misshapen and confused. I saw them and immediately thought of the Heaven that Brennan Manning talked about in the Ragamuffin gospel: a heaven of clowns and weirdos, or something like that. When I saw them, I thought, this is what heaven will be like. Joyful, with a bunch of misshapen unsteady ragamuffins. Today, on the national mall, I got to be one of them.

Flash forward two days. Several people sent me a link to a photo of myself in the Washington Post pillow fight archive. Excited to share the joy of the experience, I also felt stupid and self-centered. “What a bunch of fools”, one may say… spending so much time and energy on pictures of a childish pillow fight, when the world has got wars and disasters to worry about. When the US government is about to shut down, AIDS epidemic is infecting and killing people by the second, thousands of people are oppressed by dictators and greed, and the earth’s resources are running out...

Maybe it is foolish, to care so much about just a pillow fight. Or is it not?

The old order of things has passed away

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

-Revelation 21:1-4

There is a 62-year-old woman who is my client, and my friend, let's call her Georgia, and she doesn't know how to read. She loves the Bible (Hallelujah!) so I'm teaching her to read Psalms (Amen!) and I decide to show her Revelation 21. So we read, slowly, stumbling over first, earth, Jerusalem, bride. The first time through Georgia confuses them and they, live and like, heaven and holy. It's harder than I thought it would be, takes us about 10 minutes to get through the 4 verses. So I say, OK, I'll read it through one time, and then you'll do it again. I read slowly as she points to the words, and when I get to verse 4 Georgia is just whispering every word along with me. I finish and we look at each other, in silence. There are still tears on earth so we're almost crying it's so beautiful, and she shakes her head. "Katie, thank you for showing me this one."

Today she tells me something I don't know: "Way back in the seventies, I had twin baby girls, and I lost them. Katie, my mother told me that some day I would understand why." Georgia lost her mother, her role model and best friend, 4 years ago. "My mother told me, look at you a single black woman on welfare, you already have one child. Maybe God has a reason for everything." Georgia's other child, a son, is now in prison for life. "And when my son started going with the wrong crowd, and got locked up, she told me, everything's going to be OK." The old order will be gone. The pain will be gone. Her sins and the sins of her son will be gone.

I ask Georgia to read the passage one more time. She reads slowly, but this time she only needs help with holy and throne. When she gets to the end she holds her hand up to the sky, to God, and says "Amen."

Normally when we finish reading a passage I ask comprehension questions. I think she already understands this one far more than I do.

first post

once upon a time, there was a community living at the west hyattsville house. one girl who lived there really enjoyed writing. one day, her roommate was having a hard time, and the girl decided to share with her the gift of writing by sending her the written out story of her faith.

the roommate enjoyed the story and became inspired to share thoughts and revelations with others through the gift of writing. in fact, for lent she committed to a discipline of daily writing. the moments of clarity came and went, but now they were captured in writing. and although lent is not over yet, the roommate can already say that writing has been, and is, good.
we hope to be a collaboration of writers and have our friends write and share their thoughts and revelations as well.