Foam Sweet Foam

photo from: Foam Art pics

It all started at Paper Tiger Coffee, which is located a few blocks from my house. I met a friend there about four months ago, ordered a latte, and it was all over.

photo taken from: Paper Tiger website

The foam was stupendous -- like thick, espresso-flavored, creamy, silky goodness. Of course, I'm sure the fact that Paper Tiger roasts their own coffee beans locally had something to do with the superb flavor.

This got me thinking. Is it possible to re-create this foamilicious drink without an espresso machine or expensive equipment? And so my quest began. I read blogs, searched websites, watched foam art tutorials in my library cubicle during study breaks at seminary (of which I probably take too many). I looked at cheap tools available to create foam and wasn't satisfied with anything I saw.

A friend had just gifted me with a Magic Bullet. I think she felt sorry for me when I invited her over and made her a delicious strawberry smoothie in my food processor that is falling apart. I had never even heard of Magic Bullet. No cable. No clue. The first thing I made with my shiny new gadget was a frappacino. I was in awe. Super fast blending and near perfect texture.



Back to my foam quest. I learned that if I heated the milk to just before boiling and then poured it into the mug, and then took a mini-whisk, placed it between my palms and performed the Mr. Miagi clap-my-hands-together-and-rub-them-as-fast-as-I-can-maneuver a small amount of foam begins to form--a small amount of unsatisfactory foam, that is. "Heaven and earth! Are the shades of Pemberly to be thus polluted?" whispered my disappointment in the voice of Lady Katherine. And so the quest resumed.

Then it occurred to me early one morning in the shower that I should place my hot milk in the my new Bullet and let the bullet do its magic. I dashed downstairs like a mad scientist (after I got dressed, of course), brewed my coffee, heated my milk, and then danced a little jig when I saw the results. And although the foam art is not possible, the texture is great!


Needless to say I use my bullet every morning (and for my afternoon coffee and when I make chai). And apparently I talk about foam way too much because now several of my friends have gone out and purchased Magic Bullets. When we have our weekly girls' nights there are always drinks with foam involved and we gather around my bullet while it churns out foam and watch in awe like tribal members in worship around a bonfire.

Below are my favorite drinks that I make regularly. Side Note: If you live in my area, check out Cash-n-Carry for the syrups. They are way cheaper than most grocery stores and there's a much larger selection. Instead of spending $3 a week on CoffeeMate (if you're into that nastiness), I spent $3 on a bottle of flavored syrup that lasts me about a month. Not bad, eh? They also have great coffee beans in bulk for much cheaper than most grocery stores as well.

Hazelnut Coffee Goodness

1 Tsp. Hazelnut syrup (or according to taste; I use sugar free)
Half mug of coffee
Half mug of milk

Mix the hazelnut and coffee in mug. Heat milk separately (in microwave or on stove). Do not let milk boil. Then blend milk in the Magic Bullet if you want foam. Pour milk and foam into coffee mixture and viola! I've also substituted Pumpkin Pie syrup and it's yummy. Sometimes I also add a tiny bit of Kahlua syrup to the milk when I make the Hazelnut drink and it's also very tasty.

Peppermint Mochamania

1 Tsp. Peppermint syrup (or according to taste; depends on size of mug)
1 Tsp. Chocolate syrup
Half mug of coffee
Half mug of milk with a dash of peppermint syrup

Mix the chocolate, peppermint syrup, and coffee in mug. Heat milk separately, but do not allow to boil. Mix a dash of peppermint in milk (if desired), and then blend the milk in Magic Bullet. Pour milk mixture into coffee mixture and enjoy!

Peppermint Mocha Frappacino

Mix equal parts chilled coffee and milk. Add ice, 1-3 Tsp. chocolate syrup (according to taste), 1 Tsp. Kahlua syrup (optional), 1 Tsp. Peppermint syrup, and then blend in the Magic Bullet or in a blender. Again, I use sugar free syrups, but you can experiment according to your taste. I make this one more in the summer. It's too cold right now.

Amazing Homemade Spiced Chai
(aka Instant Transport to India)
recipe is courtesy of one of my profs: Jim Fitzpatrick

For 2 quarts:

4 cups of water
7 whole cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
7 cardamon pods (cracked open or just buy the seeds it is easier)
2 tablespoons pumpkin pie spice (optional - but who would not put it in?)
2 tablespoons ginger (also optional)

Bring these to a boil and let stand as long as possible. Can put in Crockpot for two hours if you want. It's easiest if you place all the spices in a mesh spice or tea bag. Add 1/2 cup loose tea or 8 tea bags - pick a black tea that you like - Earl Grey works fine as does Ceylon or Assam tea or orange... (If you were in India they would recommend only the dregs of the dregs of strong black tea).

Let steep for 5 minutes. Add 4 cups of milk - heat but do not boil. Stir constantly for about 5 more minutes. Strain out tea bags, pods and cloves. Add 7 tablespoons of sugar. For foam, blend heated concoction in Magic Bullet. Enjoy!

So how about you? What's your favorite homemade coffee drink?

Winter Break

Oh my goodness, I am so loving this winter break And here's a few reasons why.

1. I'm thoroughly engrossed in HP. I'm currently finishing up the third book. I had forgotten how fun it is to read fiction. Looking for an interesting read? Check out my reading list from this last year: click here.

2. Bruce almost burned down our kitchen. No exaggeration. Picture homemade popcorn gone bad. There were actual flames rising to the ceiling. I have a charred circular burn stain (the exact size of our now charred pot) left on the kitchen tile to prove it. Therefore, I am in the process of making a rag rug out of left over fabric and t-shirts to cover said burn stain.

3. I reorganized our movie collection. We traded in a stack of movies that we never watch anymore and got four new movies!

4. Magic Bullet makes amazing foam for my coffee. I look forward to it every morning.

5. My friend came over a couple of days ago and made homemade chai. I was instantly transported back to India. It was amazing. (Unfortunately we almost burned down the kitchen a second time. I now have a second charred pot to prove it).

6. My old computer died earlier this month. We broke down and bought me a new computer from Fry's. Got a great deal, and now I'm learning the ways of Linux.

7. Bruce took me to the $3 Theater last week to see Despicable Me, which I was reluctant to see at first. I have to confess that I laughed through the whole movie. It was hilarious!

8. I went Christmas shopping yesterday downtown. I've always enjoyed taking long walks downtown in the Pearl District. Did some window shopping at a funky Asian antique store. After a short jaunt through Powell's, I headed back to the car parked near REI (another favorite stop).

9. The timer just went off for some homemade Chicken Pot Pie, which means this post is over and I'm off to eat some lunch with Bruce!

Merry Christmas, friends!

What I've Been Reading This Year

Below is my reading list from the last year according to when I read them. Maybe you'll find something you like.

Spring
The Death of Ivan Ilych - Leo Tolstoy
I almost gave up on Tolstoy after Anna Karenina but decided to give him another try. Loved this book about a man's journey from a successful but troubled life and how he comes to grips with facing his own death. A powerful story, so of course, I had to write about it: click here.

Thomas Merton: Essential Writings
"...Our discovery of God is in a way God's discovery of us," writes Merton, who lived as a Trappist Monk. His writings are a breath of fresh air to me and his words seem born out of great personal stillness and at times anguish. For more: click here.

Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Caroll
I generally read myself to sleep every night, and Caroll provided some of the most interesting/disturbing/comical dreams I've ever had (i.e. my dreams: An attack by a killer bullfrog out for revenge when I crushed his fingers in my remote-controlled aquarium; giving birth to twins that looked like Tweedledee and Tweedledum but were the size of my Russian nesting doll; and oh yes, the giant smiling baby chick and the dinosaur the size of elephants that made me scream and flee in terror. I woke up sweating. No joke.) Soooo, read Caroll with caution, I tell you.

The Crucified God - Jurgen Moltmann

Quite a difficult read. Yet, I will say this. Of all books I read during my seminary studies, this one perhaps had the most profound impact on me. Moltmann approaches the theology of the cross through a Trinitarian perspective. What is God's relationship to God during the suffering and death of Christ? How does the death of God relate to the impassibility and immutability of his nature? Unfortunately, Moltmann assumes his readers are well versed in church history, systematic theology, philosophy, Greek, Hebrew, Latin, and at times German, making his work a little frustrating for some (not excluding myself). However, I must confess that this is one of my favorite theological books to date.

Mysticism: its Meaning and Message - Georgia Harkness
This book explores key components of ancient Christian mysticism (not to be confused with modern connotations of various cults and eastern religions). Mysticism in this sense seeks intimate experiences of God predominantly through prayer, meditation, and through serving others. I had already been musing on the proper place of doubt in one's spiritual journey. And while this book is not about doubt, there was a segment of this reading about St. Teresa of Avila that caught my eye and provided some food for thought in my own perceptions of truth and illusion, and I wrote the following blog post as a response: click here.

Enduring Grace: the lives of 6 women mystics from the Age of Faith - by Carol Flinders
When I was enrolled in a church history class, I was fascinated with the Christian mystics who emerged during the Dark Ages. I found their pure devotion, wisdom, and courage quite the contrast to the medieval church's ignorant superstitions and crusader-quests for "holiness" incredibly fascinating. Here Flinders provides concise biographies about six female Christian mystics whose thoughts I may not completely buy into, but I still learn great things from them each.

The Genesee Diary - Henri Nouwen
Nouwen is basically my spiritual Mr. Miagi. He is hands down my favorite author to date. Born in the Netherlands, he served as a Catholic priest, a professor at Yale, Notre Dame, and Harvard and eventually at a community in Canada for the mentally handicapped. This book is a journal Nouwen kept during a year he devoted to living as a Trappist Monk.

The Way of the Heart: Desert Spirituality & Contemporary Ministry - Henri Nouwen
A short yet profound read about the value of solitude. Who are we when all our compulsive distractions erode? That's what the desert exposes: who we are without our scaffolding of superficial validations and securities. It's the place where lesser things die and callings are reborn. The irony is that people who've spent significant time in the metaphorical desert often emerge with a wholeness that ends up moving them closer to people rather than further away.

Summer:
God in Creation - J. Moltmann

Moltmann examines God's relationship to the universe as his creation and as a venue that both reveals God's nature to us and draws us into deeper communion with God. I read this while on a summer hiking and camping trip. I thought about Moltmann's vision a lot while staring at some rather breathtaking scenery. For more, I wrote a journal entry: click here.

Night - Ellie Wiesel
What can I say? A detailed and horrific account of one man's true story of living through the Holocaust. Bruce and I listened to this one on audio together during a summer road trip. We had several discussions between the two of us on the nature of suffering, faith, doubt, and several other difficult questions.

The Long Walk - Slavomir Rawicz
An amazing story about prisoners in Siberia during WWII who escaped prison only to face the Siberian wilderness, the Gobi Desert and the Himalayas. A great adventure story! I listened to this one on audio as well.

Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Martel, you had me at the segment about being named after a swimming pool. The writing is vivid and at times quite comedic. It's about a boy raised in India as the son of a zoo keeper. While moving and transferring their zoo animals across the ocean, Pi gets stranded on a raft with some of the wild animals (one of which is a tiger). I won't spoil anymore of the story for you. It was a delightful read.

The Gift - Lewis Hyde
A fascinating study about the nature of gifts and gift economies in tribal communities. Hyde writes about the inner life of art. To handle the gift properly is to become a "channel for its current." Stagnation occurs when we horde the gift and dam the river. One critic said that Hyde's book is "a manifesto of sorts for anyone who makes art and cares for it." Although not written as a theological book, I discovered a feast of spiritual implications.


Fall:
The Wisdom of the Desert -Thomas Merton
The desert Fathers were Christian men and women who devoted themselves to a life of solitude and simplicity in the desert in the third and fourth century. Many of them viewed solitude as a means of generating deeper community with others and communion with God during a time of persecution and corruption in the church (as opposed to criticisms of escapism and cowardice). They generally held to the idea that silence teaches us how to speak, and solitude teaches us how to connect with one another not from loneliness but from wholeness (it's the difference between fearful clinging and fearless play, as a separate author once said). I found their simple, stripped down sayings often cut through my stubborn heart and stir me like few things can. No fluff. No superficial wit. No fakery or false flattery. Just simple words born out of deep, still waters.


Margin: Restoring Emotional, Physical...and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives - Richard Swenson
How we define progress tells us a great deal about what we actually value. "Hastiness and superficiality -- these are the psychic diseases of the 20th Century," said Solzhenitsyn. How is that we have more conveniences than almost anyone else in the world yet the most common phrase used among people in Western culture is something to the tune of, "I'm too busy. I'm stressed. I don't have time"? I loved the segment where the author examined how various societies experience and value time revealing more often than not the cultures with the least labor-saving machinery often had the most quality leisure time available -- something I witnessed and came to love while living in China and while visiting India.

The Hungering Dark- Fredrick Buechner
I can't remember fully what Buechner wrote about, but I can't forget what I walked away with after reading this book. There was a section where he was exploring the idea that no man is an island. Humanity is a web with so many common denominators (sufferings, dreams, longings, values, etc.). We all affect each other in varying ways. Yet on the other hand, Buechner writes, every man is an island separated by an abyss formed from distrust and duplicity. What I walked away with was a renewed longing for something real to surface that builds bridges and creates authentic community between people. Sometimes I think I've found it, and when I do I cherish every moment. Other times it seems beyond my reach. I wrote quite a bit in my journal about authenticity and how it has this odd way of both uniting and dividing people in the same way Jesus said he came to bring peace as well as a sword. That's the thing about darkness and light. We're often afraid when we can't see, and then we're afraid when we can. Needless to say, Buechner takes timeless concepts and makes me think about them in new ways. And I enjoy that greatly.

Wishful Thinking - Fredrick Buechner
It's basically a dictionary. Wait. Not "basically". It is a dictionary. I liked Buechner's definition of Compassion: "the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it's like to live inside somebody else's skin," and Lust: "the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst."

Winter Break:
Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone - Rowling
A surprisingly fun read (even though I already knew the ending and it's rare I enjoy a book of which I already know the ending). Sometimes I forget how fun reading fiction can be.

Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets - Rowling

Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban - Rowling
I have about three more chapters on this one. Professor Trelawney made me laugh out loud.

Lost on Planet China - J. Troost
Don't own. Didn't finish. But this book is my official "I'm-killing-time-book-while-in-Barnes&Noble." It's a rather hilarious memoir of one man's travels in China. Troost, I know how you felt, and you make me laugh. A lot. Period.

In-Progress:
The End of Poverty - by Jeffery Sachs
Sachs is an economist working to analyze and eliminate extreme poverty, which he is defining as people groups unable to obtain for themselves the basics necessary for survival: food, water, shelter, vaccinations, etc.

Reaching Out - Nouwen
This is a re-read. And that's because this is possibly my favorite book to date. It's about three movements of the spiritual life: 1) Reaching out to ourselves: facing our loneliness and allowing God to transform it into a powerful mode for solitude and stillness within. 2) Reaching out to others: transforming our hostility toward others into hospitality. 3) Reaching out to God: making the shift from illusion to honest prayer. Much of what I've become and how I interact with others can in large part be traced back to the vision presented in this book. See? I told you Nouwen was my spiritual Mr. Miagi. Wish I could have met him.

The Road Less Traveled - M. Scott Peck
Love it, love it, love it. The book can be divided into three basic parts. 1) Gaining the courage to own our path and grasp the discipline necessary to keep growing. 2) Examining the love necessary for healthy relationships. 3) Learning to have grace with yourself and others.

And you thought I was only kidding when I said I was a bookaholic. This is by no means an exhaustive list. It's just the books I feel like recommending.

The Christmas Night

Little Ann was so excited for Christmas. Ah, the days of youth. So carefree, naive and innocent. Santa was the bringer of good things. But he was also kinda scary too. Unfortunately in this pic he looks completely miserable. And little Ann....well, little Ann could care less, even if she did just confide her heart's desire to the Grinch in sheep's clothing (er, I mean Santa).

So the first story I ever wrote was about Christmas (even though I have no recollection of writing it; I was only six or seven). My mom saved it. But I guess every writer has to start somewhere, right? If you listen closely, you may catch the southern accent.

The Christmas Night

One night the elves wit out side
to look at the Christmas Tree.
Thay dreckerraydad et with bolls
and cande ckayns. And Roodoff
the elves danst with joy thin.
They paited the tree wite.
Thin Santu sed, "It is time for bed."
The elves wit to bed. In the morning,
the elves wock up. Thin they wit into
the living room! And the two elves koot
into the living room and in the living room
ther wus toys!

- by Ann (1985)

Don't ask about "koot." No idea. It's a mystery relegated to my "Questions for the Afterlife" list. I've placed "Please explain 'koot'" directly under "Did Leia ever use the Force to fix her hair?"

Confessions of the Cough-Drop Culprit

Mmmkay, last Thursday night when the clock struck midnight I was sitting in a packed out theather awaiting the most recent installment of the Harry Potter saga after standing in the rain for more time than I care to confess publicly (ok, it was about two hours). I know what you are thinking, but HELLO! I am not an HP die hard, let's just get that straight right now. No siree. In fact, I haven't even read the books. So there. Still, my seven other cohorts and I stood in one of eight lines at the Bridgeport theather clustered under a mold of five umbrellas -- five umbrellas perfectly woven together so as to keep everyone dry and warm.

As we entered the theater, I almost had my cough drops confiscated. Luckily and unluckily for everyone else in my theather I was allowed to keep my cough drops. After the show, someone about seven seats away said they could smell my cough drops throughout the whole movie. Sorry, dude. I would have just stayed home, but my ticket was paid for in advance, I was with a large group of friends, and hey, it was Harry Potter after all. Not that I'm a die hard or anything.

So, how was it? Well, I confess I've never really been into Harry Potter. I haven't read the books. After the nightmare-inducing-giant-killer-snake in the second movie, I swore I was done with HP. I would say that the HP movie with the dementors gave me nightmares, but it didn't. That's becuase I closed my eyes during that part of movie. Spared.

A couple years ago (or whenever the sixth HP movie came out), I recall the following conversation:

Bruce: "Hey, go get ready. I'm taking you out tonight. To a movie."
Ann: "Great! Which one?"
Bruce: "I'm in the mood for something light. So, of course, I chose Harry Potter."
Ann: "Something light?! Great. My nightmare quota for the year will be covered."

Oddly enough, we went to the sixth movie (which was good) where I promptly drank too much sprite, ate too many gummy bears, and fell asleep just before the Dumbledore/Snape showdown. I then returned home and spent the next hour throwing up gummy bears and sprite. Then I had a HP nightmare to top it all off. Oh yes. Good times. HP and I have not had a positive history, even though the sixth movie was my favorite. Everyone wanted to know how I lost that 20 pounds of scholarly, seminary stress. Ok, ok. Here's my secret. Deprive yourself of sugar for one month. Go to a movie and while being sucked into the plot stuff your face with gummy bears (this method is more effective if you pick a long movie). Then drink about a gallon of sprite. You can obtain this at the concession for about $200. Wait about an hour after the movie, and if you experience anything even remotely close to what I experienced, you'll never want to look at gummy bears, sweets, or carbonated drinks or dessert again. Forever. I went from drinking a coke almost every day to drinking a coke only in extreme emergencies (i.e. when I was car sick in India). So, basically I have HP to thank for scaring the crap out of me and ridding me of my coke addiction. Simultaneously.

As for the Deathly Hallows, I was completely sucked me into the plot. However, this go I had a steady stream of cough drops because I had been sick the week before. So whether due to the story itself or the cough-drop-menthol overdose, I felt compelled to rush home and request all the books from my lovely sister-in-law, which I will be reading during the winter break. Not that I'm a die hard or anything. I'm dying to know how the story ends, and if anyone tells me, it will get ugly.

Before I wrap this puppy up, I have something else to say. I'm a firm believer that confession is good for the soul. So I have a confession. If you live in Portland and if you were at the 12:20am showing of the Deathly Hallows at Bridgeport, you probably smelled cough drops emanating from the back of the theater. Hopefully you did not notice the perfectly timed coughing fits during the loud action segments. Well, it was me. I was the culprit. I know, I should have stayed home, but I didn't. I guess I'm more of a die hard than I thought. So there. I confess: I'm the cough-drop-culprit-turned-HP-die-hard, and I have to live with that. And so do you (that is, if you follow my blog).

Huh?

Wishing I knew my neighbor down the street well enough to ask about the story behind this.

The Further I Walk...

I was cleaning out the bedroom this morning and stumbled across my journal from our summer trip to Montana. This was my last entry from our trip.

July 22, 2010

Sabbath is essentially the ceasing of all habitual and compulsory attempts to be happy, to perform, to achieve. It is interruption of all the things that formulate the rhythms and traffic and monotony of the week. Hiking these last two weeks has been for me an internal Sabbath, a being wholly present to put one foot in front of the next and breathe in scenery more beautiful than any human concoction. The first few miles evoke much internal noise, but eventually and especially as I get tired, my focus sharpens to a handful of singular thoughts: "Keep moving forward." "Stop and look around." "Sit still for a bit, will ya?"

And in this place of simple thoughts, base thinking and being, something profound takes place. I'm more present to my surroundings, and they are more present to me, and I notice and am more deeply aware of the Presence to which they invite.

Moltmann says that our world is a parable of greater things, of a new heaven and a new earth, of God's kingdom. Embedded in the parable are gems, seeds of hope and promise, as well as remembrance and presence. And God desires that we know this through the vehicle of the sabbath rest: a knowing not to control or dominate but to participate and discover treasures written into things that seem ordinary but come to life to those with ears to hear and eyes to see. They wait eagerly to disclose great things, yet they will not compete for our attention.

I'm beginning to think that this was God's original intent behind the Sabbath observance: a rhythmic interruption beckoning us to step out of life's traffic, sit still and listen, a time to be wholly present in God's presence. This is, in the end, why I'll gladly strap a pack on my back and walk for miles letting go and listening for a voice greater than my own. The further I walk, the more I hear it.

Sonorous Silence

"...Their words aren't heard,
their voices aren't recorded,
But their silence fills the earth:
unspoken truth is spoken everywhere..."

- Psalm 19 (The Message)

I took these photos last weekend as we drove through the Columbia River Gorge. I read Ps. 19 a few days later, and these images came to my mind. And I was filled with awe all over again.

TOWANDA!!

This last weekend we went to a fall conference with a load of college students. Anna, Rainie and I all attend seminary together. In fact, we comprise the entire female student population at our campus this semester. So, the three of us have become very close. So. What we really needed was another bonding experience. One that involved heights. Did I mention that all three of us are terrified of heights? Terrified. We spotted the giant swing from a distance during the free time at the ranch we were staying at. "Let's do it!!" Once they strapped us in: "What were we thinking?!"

Ann: "Hey, I have a great idea. When we get to the top we should all yell 'TOWANDA!'"

Anna & Rainie: "Brilliant. Let's do it!"

Mmmmkay, the plan was set. We were ready to channel Idgie from Fried Green Tomatoes and feel the rush of female power.

Did I mention that I am terrified of heights? Terrified.

Here we are at the top and Rainie is about to pull the rope that will release us from all our fears. Unfortunately, the whole Towanda-empowerment-plan went down the toilet. Anna and I were both so frozen with fear, that we were totally silent as Rainie belted out the most tremendous solo "TOWANDA!!" I've ever heard.

Rainie pulled the rope and down we flew to almost certain death. I had no idea I could scream that loud. Bruce said that he heard me from other side of the ranch: "Is that my wife I hear screaming from so far away? Nah. She'd never get on that swing. She's terrified of heights. Terrified." And with that he went back to his disc golf game with his buddies.

Unfortunately, our photographer couldn't time that initial free fall to capture the terror on our faces, but you can see a glimpse of it on Anna's face.

We've been swinging for a while at this point. The terror has subsided, and now we can't stop laughing.

"Put your feet in the air!" said the dude who was going to lasso our swing to a standstill. He made it sound like we might lose a leg from the force of his rope throw.

Somehow I thought strapping my body to beam high in the air might help cure my fear of heights. I was wrong. It only intensified my phobia. However I must confess, that was way too much fun.

Navigating Global Inequities

Jet-black eyes invite me in evoking
curiosity, laughter and fear.
Curious to know her story, his wants, her name.

Smells of curry and exhaust mingle with sewage
to litter air and earth
pulling me in, pushing me away.
Fear of a world I don't understand,
their endless staring announcing my place:
foreigner, outsider, other.



Horns blast and rickshaws demand passage
through the Red Sea of
buses, livestock, cars, pedestrian.
Curious to know the polio beggar's earnings for the day.
Frustrated by the child beggar
forced to forfeit her earnings
to a greedy, abusive pimp.

A voice pierces the commotion,
"See what I see."
And I'm awakened to deeper things.
Fear that I will see only the obvious:
difference, poverty, injustice.



How can a place so colorful be so dark?
How can a people so spiritual justify such corruption?
How can a people with so little possess so much?
I don't understand.
Fear that I will never understand.

Sitting on the cramped, cockroach train,
ipod in tow, sights aglow
with faces I try to memorize.
Our train rumbles through the slums,
kids playing cricket,
mothers washing clothes,
a young boy dancing alone on his tin rooftop.
I hear it again,
"See what I see. See me seeing this."
I don't know what to look for.



I see these people. I see myself.
Two worlds colliding, learning, listening,
shattering my small thoughts.
God's voice invites me in, announcing my place:
servant, friend, listener, witness.



Back at home. Work. School. Routine. Blah.
I complain about God's silence.
He whispers,
"Seeing and hearing are linked.
You'll never understand what you refuse to trust."
Curious what's on the other side,
Afraid to cross the threshold.

"Come and see," God says.
"Show me, and I'll come," I reply.
Silence.

Why this method, I would like to know.
Perhaps we'll never fully see
where we refuse to walk.
Does coming precede seeing
because trust precedes illumination?
This is the most difficult
tension in my theology.

The truth is I don't trust God as I ought.
Yet I have a deep longing
for a gracious God
to transpose in me old things
into a new song in a new key.
But without the surrender of listening
there is no genuine improvisation.
That's what I see so far.

"See what I see," God whispers to me
while on a double date with a gay couple.
I feel God's compassion burning in my heart.
Two worlds colliding, learning, listening,
shattering all my small thoughts.
Back in the car alone with Bruce I say,
"God is compassionate,
and for this I adore him."

Sometimes listening is
more powerful than speaking.
Listening says that others have
much to contribute and that
I have much to learn.
Listening teaches me how to speak,
how to see,
how to play a new song.
Listening invites others to lower their guard
and reveal valuable things.

"See what I see."
I still don't know what to look for.
But I'll listen.
I'll serve.
I'll try to trust
Until I fully see what You see.

Don't Cross the Streams!

I had a girls' night at my house on Saturday night. We carved pumpkins and watched Ghostbusters and drank yummy, foamy chai and lattes.

I don't know if you can tell from this picture but Anna carved an amazing "Frenchman" pumpkin.

Who ya gonna call?

The Maize Cornundrum

A few weeks ago we went to Sauvie Island with Heather and Dan to wander our way through a corn maze.

We already look lost, and we haven't even entered the maze yet.

Zombiefest

Thriller
Portlanders gathered at Pioneer Square last weekend where countless zombies emerged to dance to Michael Jackson's "Thriller."

A unicyclist zombie with his bagpipes...

Heather recorded the main event....

Boxer Rebellion in Portland

Ladies' Night Out !

Three of my closest friends in Portland gather each month to form our ethnic food club and ladies' night out. So far we've eaten nothing but cajun this year. Oh well.

This month's destination: Berbati's. Originally we planned to eat Greek food here and then stick around for Boxer Rebellion live. However, here's a little fact about Berbati's. Their restaurant and music venue are at seperate ends of the block. Soooo........
(kells photo taken from the web)
We killed about three hours at Kells Irish Pub around the corner since our show didn't start until 11pm. I had my doubts as to whether it would be worth the wait. 11pm on a Tuesday night? Yes. 11pm on a Tuesday night.

The skull stamp is our ticket into Boxer Rebellion (I mean really why waste paper?).

One dollar and two quarters donated to charity will buy you a magic trick by the waiter at Kells -- a magic trick which consists of him throwing the dollar bowtie with incredible force and having it stick to the ceiling which is about 5000 miles away from the floor. (I watched closely. Although successful and entertaining, it was complete hokum.)

Meanwhile back at Berbati's.....

Okay. I take it back. It was totally worth the wait. You had me at Spitting Fire .

Rainie, I love that you joined me for the show. You are so much fun!

And here they are playing my favorite tune of the night: Flashing Red Light Means Go followed by Evacuate and Soviets to list a few. Semi-Automatic was quite mesmerizing as well.

This band was WICKED AWESOME live, which cannot be said of all bands. Highly recommended if you like this genre and if you don't mind really, really, really, really loud music.

Just between you and me and the world wide web, this band could have charged way more than ten bucks and it would have been worth every penny. But that's just me.