weak and tired and full of love

She ran away almost every weekend. We would call her mom to let her know, but she never seemed too concerned. (Maybe that's why her daughter came to us, pregnant at 16.)

On Mondays, she would come back, always dirty, once with gonorrhea.

She had a terrible attitude. She was always cussing at staff; she was always so defiant. She really only talked to me when she had already pissed off the staff on her hall; she would come to me to curse about her hall staff - or once, to ask me to come and help one of my clients, who was crying in the parking lot, having just heard that a relative had passed away.

She never missed Bible study.

Last week, someone hit her in the stomach so hard that it separated her baby from the placenta. I think she was five months pregnant. She had to deliver the baby, only 2 lb. 11 oz., and over the weekend, the baby died.

It's not hard to see how every minute I spend at work is an opportunity for ministry; it's hard to know how to minister. Loving the unloveable ones sounds like such a noble thing to do - like you just need to pray for a big enough heart... but it turns out that what you need more is a very high tolerance for swearing, and patience to fax a lot of runaway persons reports.

O Father,
"He who thought it not robbery to be equal with God, made himself a servant..."
You came. The Creator, the giver of life, the maker of all. You, the single One of the heavens, the great Other of infinity, came. The Creator became creature, and you leapt into our world a little child, weak and tired and full of love.
We can only bow and wonder, amazed that you would not abandon us in our frailty, that you would not suffer us suffering alone, that you could not leave us to our own willfulness. We were lost, and you yourself became the Way. We were broken, and you embraced our frailty. We were rebellious, and you ran to meet us "a long way off."
Good Father, you gave us yourself when we sought the way, the truth, and the life. And when we longed for the way of greatness, you bent low and became the least among us - a servant and a lover - and beckoned us to follow.
"Surely he taught us to love one another; his law is love and his gospel is peace."
We long to follow, but like the shepherds so long ago, are "sore afraid." Following, serving, giving, and loving are strangers to us. We yearn to love, but we are careless students of the Way.
And so, we plead again for the near love of your coming. We pray that you would once more remind us of the fullness of your embrace in our Christ. And we ask that you would challenge us to hold near your love, even as we seek to give it away.
Amen.
-A Prayer from Dwight Ozard "For They Shall Be Fed" (Ed. by Ronald J. Sider)

Dangerous Adhesion: Ribbons Until It Hurts

This post is, of course, named after the Lifetime movie based on my activities today. I got up early(ish) and went straight over to Alisha's. She is my number one compadre at work, and it is (finally) her clients who cause all the trouble there. She's also getting married on May 30, so we spent three and a half Lifetime movies putting together her wedding programs, which are along these lines. All of the cardstock made me secretly miss the anticipation of my own wedding.

The truth?

I will never make a trip to Goodwill where no shopping is allowed.

The Rental Is Without a Doubt In Well Over Average Shape As You Can See

You like that? Because that's clearly prime real estate for rent, right there.

It (and rental listings like it) is also why, after approximately 50 hours invested in finding a tiny house with a tiny yard and a (negotiably) tiny pet deposit, Abe and I are thinking about staying in our same old stinky apartment complex.

You can call me a quitter if you want to, and I'll still let you come over and use the pool. The pool Is Without a Doubt In Well Over Average Shape As You Can See, since it took all of last summer for them to get it open, making it more or less brand-scuba-diving new.

Things I'll make when I have time to do anything other than (1) sleep (2) work (3) find a house (4) sweep cat litter off the bathroom floor again

1. Arborio rice that my sister gave me (nearly a year ago). Stop looking at me so judgmentally. I (only clean out cupboards when I move) keep a well-stocked pantry.
2. A package of instant mashed potatoes intented as a get well gift from a friend, the time before the last time I was supposed to have my wisdom teeth out (I've tried three times now, and it would save me a lot of money if the "three strikes, you're out" rule of baseball also applied to my impacted wisdom teeth).
3. Something involving a lot of pureed pumpkin, which was a good idea at the time, and which is now taking up an unseasonal and significant amount of kitchen space. (Yes, I am getting ready to move.)
4. A shirt pocket quilt for my nephew-to-be, Coming Soon in 2009!
5. A quick run to Target for an iron, a tea strainer, and the blandest cotton sheets they sell in Queen size
6. My (sister's) plants sorry for their fickle tendencies. A little water? One day, they like it. Another day, they waterlog. A little sunshine? Sure! But next week, the sun makes them yellow and puckered. Stupid plants. Sorry, Alexis.
7. A trip to Goodwill where I donate only. NO SHOPPING ALLOWED.

Uh oh

I think Franc might have a death wish - with the jumping from my parent's second floor as a tiny kitten, the ingestion of all those earplugs, and yesterday's attempted leap from our second story balcony.

Pet Therapy, get behind me! I renounce you.

We're back!

I only wish my Huntington Beach vacation had been this long. (See how restful?) We've been back for ages, and my excuse for not posting is that I was waiting for my memory card to magically transfer the pictures to my computer so that I could share them with you.

Assuming "you" are still out there? Still reading? Anyone?

Today I finally gave up on the magic, and transferred the pictures myself. See how my handy husband and our birthday friend Josh lassoed our hammocks high in the trees?

Then we napped. Hammock camping is wonderful, even in a slightly lopsided hammock that is now on its way back to altrec.com to be exchanged for one that's not misshapen.

Since we got back, there have been no naps. I've been reading every rental ad on craigslist and searching listings on every real estate website in Charlotte, because our lease is up! I can't believe it's already been a year (Time flies when it's only 30 feet from the front door to the back wall of your apartment, and when your closet shelf was installed using nails instead of screws, and therefore falls out of the wall, making a huge mess that is still sitting on the floor next to the bed). I'm starting to feel a little desperate. We've proved we can live in hammocks, but I'm not sure how we'd eat. There definitely would be no more Indian food feasts:

(clockwise from right : naan, chicken in light sauce, alook paneer - potatoes with spinach, and chana masaladar - a chickpea/tomato dish)