Thoughts on Happy

I was chatting with a friend the other day and I said something- I don’t remember quite what, and my friend said, “well, whatever makes you happy, that’s what life’s about.” But I disagree. I don’t think life is about being happy. I think life is about living well. If I chased happiness, it would evade me. Happiness is not a material item. Happiness is not having more, more, more.

I believe the secret to happiness is gratitude, observing and then acknowledging the good in life. When I am grateful, happiness can’t help but come out and play too. I think Happy and Grateful are siblings.

A dear friend once told me, regarding an apple, “I feel like the stars are mapped on this.” That, I believe, is happiness. Observing the good in life, finding galaxies on apple skins.

Life is not about apple skins, but it is made rich by them.

I like flat out rejection. That narrows it down, and it's clear.

What I don't like is a backhanded "I don't trust you."

KINGDOM

This is the Kingdom.

A brother with a burden for women; a sister with a burden for men.

This is the Kingdom.

Potluck dinner around a table.

This is the Kingdom.

Singing spontaneously without instruments, just voices.

This is the Kingdom.

A slow-speaking brother, but when he prays, his words bubble out like a quick-flowing mountain brook.

This is the Kingdom.

When he stops singing the room erupts in claps and silence, both.

This is the Kingdom.

And when he tells his story, tears drip down Sister’s face, our hearts gasp, and yet he does not speak with any hint of anger.

This is the Kingdom.

He prays the American church awake, back on its feet.

This is the Kingdom.

Let me not forget this I whisper to the Spirit.

Our stories are vastly different: ten siblings, a once child soldier in Sierra Leone now a pastor, one who makes fine art, one who takes care of women, ones who open their new home in servant hospitality, the girl-child in her jammies, the brother who needs a job, the sister exploring her gifts, and on, and on, for always.

This is the Kingdom.

WINGS

I listened to this song ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMDN1sPJggo ) (Ólafur Arnalds, Only the Winds) about fifty times (give or take a few) and then I wrote this:

WINGS

I have danced these trails a thousand times

and each time, I dance with you

in mind.

If the ocean was more shallow,

the mountains less tall,

deserts less foreboding,

would you follow

the stars

to find me?

Would you breathe

in gentleness

beside me?

I will pick wildflowers

in preparation of your arrival,

and speak only of hope.

When you arrive,

I will prepare soup and

bread, hot tea,

And share this dance

my soul has kept.

The morning sky shall accompany me.

yes, I have danced

a thousand times with you

in mind

and I will wait

as long as it takes
for you to come to me.

Adventure!

I'm going by bus to Chicago.

If that doesn't sound like an adventure, I don't know what does. It's not just Chicago by bus- then it's a train, then it's a taxi. I'm a bit nervous, but I'm also excited to do this. I know that I can. Anyways, I know that God will get me there. I'm excited to prove to myself that we got this. It's a practice round; I'm doing something similar in Germany next month.

It's going to be an exhausting, long day… but then again, Germany's day will be much longer.

Let's goooooo!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_-cUdmdWgU (this is Chicago, Sufjan Stevens)

Desires

All I want in the world is to be settled. Just for a few years. Just settled. And curly hair. But my soul is in love with transient people. So I am transient. Just a fraction of the price they pay. Just a fraction of the discomfort. 

tenderheart

At Chipotle today, a little bird was hanging around, trying to catch some crumbs. Then, two little boys came outside. They talked gently to the bird, "hi buddy!" and one of them offered an oyster cracker. They speculated that maybe the bird hadn't flown away yet because he couldn't fly. They crumbled up more crackers, and crouched on the ground watching the bird eat.

The more I learn of boys, the more tenderhearted and sensitive they become.