Yesterday morning at 0-dark-thirty (which for me equals anything before about 9 am), I dropped Jonathan at the airport, bound for the wonders of Comic Con in San Diego.
If you’re not familiar, this is the annual event where 150,000 comic artists, illustrators, animators and people dressed as Storm Troopers gather to network and peddle their wares. From what I hear, it’s an exercise in overstimulation — thousands upon thousands of square feet of trade show booths and art and aficionados in bizarro costumes.
Jonathan is there, of course, to meet and schmooze various publishers in hopes of generating interest (and eventually a deal) for his book.
I stayed home, which leaves me to my own devices for a couple of days. I gotta say, after living in community for a couple of years and then moving in with Jonathan, it’s odd going to sleep in a house knowing no one else is here. Not scary, per se, but just a strange feeling.
In any case, tomorrow I will be rejoined by my partner in crime, so I only have to brave one more night in the castle by myself.
Friday night was divine…sitting on blankets in the grass at the zoo, relaxing in the mist and not worrying about the scattered droplets of rain, eating from a trove of gourmet picnic items, laughing with good friends and listening to the soulful voice of Patty Griffin wash over us and massage away the stresses of the week. Goooooooood.
Last night we broke bread with Pastor Delamy Bazilme, a man whose servant leadership and great vision have transformed a forsaken village in northern Haiti.
Before Delamy, Terre Blanche had no school, no medical care, no enterprise, no church. Today, the primary school serves 560 children who are fed a hearty, nutritious meal every day. The women’s trade school teaches women about sewing, nutrition, early childhood development and other life skills. After graduating, the women are given a sewing machine and are able to start a small business. There is a beautiful clinic building that now serves Terre Blanche and the surrounding area — a Haitian nurse provides medical attention five days a week, and several times a year teams of American doctors visit to provide additional care. A microloan program offers small loans to help residents start a business. And the little cinder block church is bursting at the seams. All of this is a result of Delamy’s faithful service and huge dreams.
To have Delamy at our dinner table is the greatest honor we have experienced in the months we have lived in our house. He is a man of gentleness and love, one who displays great faith and perseverance in the midst of many trials. He literally lays down his life for his friends each day by risking his personal safety and sacrificing his comfort to go to the poorest of the poor and speak hope into despair.
Delamy dreams big dreams because he is convinced that God is big enough to do mighty things, and he believes that God wants to use crude tools (like ourselves) to accomplish His work here on earth.
At the end of an evening filled with stories from Terre Blanche, I asked Delamy how we can pray for him individually. I was stunned by his answer: he told us that what he needs the very most is wisdom and humility.
If a man of Delamy’s character needs wisdom and humility so desperately, I can barely begin to grasp how much I need such things.
The other day while we were at work, Blue Duck wandered into our next door neighbor’s house (using their pet door) and tossed his cookies all over their floor. Having already experienced a few days of relentless meowing, our neighbor loaded Blue Duck up in the car and hauled him over to the local animal shelter. Apparently kitty had a respiratory infection of some sort, so they had to take him to a special shelter for sick animals. We are kind of relieved, since we were at our wit’s end, but also kind of sad, since we know that cats who are taken to shelters don’t tend to have a great survival rate. Hopefully Blue Duck’s owners have located him, or maybe he will get adopted. Farewell, kitty.
A few days ago, on a weekend morning when I didn’t feel like putting in the time or effort to blow dry and style my hair and go through the whole makeup application regimen, I just tucked my damp hair behind my ears, and put on some powder and mascara. I looked in the mirror and was surprised at how reasonably decent I looked without all of my usual trimmings. Jonathan mentioned in the car that he thought I looked especially beautiful that morning. That day I got several complements on my hair, and someone actually said I looked like I was glowing.
So I says to myself, I says, “Self, why the heck have you been spending all of this time and money on cosmetics all of these years, when all you needed was powder and mascara?” And then I looked around and noticed that most of my female coworkers wear very little makeup at work. And I realized that most of my church friends are cosmetic minimalists, too. And I thought about how someday when I’m wrinkly I’ll probably really NEED the makeup, so maybe I should forego it now while I’m still sorta youngish.
Then today at work a coworker looked up at me from her desk and exclaimed, “You look terrible!” Stunned, I stammered a response as she continued, “I mean your eyes, they’re so puffy…you must not be sleeping well. And you look like you’re fighting allergies…” Eventually, after regaining a wee bit of my composure, I said, “Nope, I’ve been sleeping and I feel fine — I’ve just started wearing less makeup. But I guess I should start up again!”
Her face got bright red and she apologized repeatedly; I shrugged and changed the subject. Shortly after getting back to my desk, another written apology surfaced in my inbox. It took me a while to mentally recover from the slump…when someone tells you you look awful, it’s really hard not to believe them. And when you believe you look terrible, it’s pretty tough not to feel terrible, too.
So I’m still undecided about the makeup issue. My gut says, who cares what other people think? Screw ‘em and go au naturel. But my gut also says, it’s important to feel great every morning when you step out into the world.
Anyone else have words of wisdom (or commiseration)?
We are being stalked by the most beautiful cat.
Saturday night we were sitting around our backyard firepit with some friends, and noticed a sleek, lovely slate gray cat circling and weaving its way repeatedly through the group.
Later, when our friends had gone, we curled up in the hammock for a bit, and the cat kept leaping up from the ground and climbing on top of us. That night, the cat meowed relentlessly below our window.
Then on Sunday the cat was everywhere we were — following me up and down the driveway as I carried out the recycling, and trying furtively to dash into the house anytime we opened a door. We finally fed it something, and have now put a bowl of water out for it as well. Still, it yelped outside our door most of the night, and seems fixated on being here at our house.
We have named it Blue Duck, after the creepy villain in Lonesome Dove who keeps showing up unexpectedly when you are hoping he’s gone for good.
Our friend Tarver recently had his leg amputated above the knee as a result of an electrical accident about 15 years ago. After 40 surgeries and years of intense pain, Tarver elected to have the leg removed.
He is confident that he made the right decision, as he is already living with much less pain than before, but he and his wife (who are expecting their first baby in a number of weeks) have learned that their health insurance will only pay $5,000 per year for prosthetics, and the cost of the leg will be closer to $40,000.
Tarver has launched an ingenious campaign to raise money for his new leg — check out his blog and if you can, throw a few bucks his way via the Paypal link. If you donate $25 or more, you’ll get a T-shirt that says “This shirt bought Tarver a leg.”
