Pure [Michigan] Joy.

For all of my friends who do not hail from the great state of Michigan, while yes, you are many and well loved,  watch this and you'll wish you did.

I decided to post some pure Michigan joy found in the last few days, because, well frankly my last post draft, stayed a draft because I was beginning to sound like a cry baby.  Heaven for bid I sound like a cry baby even if I am.  Sometimes you have to let crappy situations marinate and then you can pull something good out of it.  Translation: that draft will never be published because it's good to focus on the good.  See below.

First item of joy: Old man in booth.
Sporting a fancy green State Park polo, the ranger at the entrance of P.J. Hoffmaster told me I was in a grace period.  Giving me a free parking space in the park and a new life mantra.
I am in a grace period. 

Second moment: Granny Van.
I pushed my Great Grandma Van around in a wheel chair on a perfect Michigan summer afternoon.
I do love people.  Always good to be reminded of that.  [I'm not sure if the fact that the walk was around a cemetery was the most sensitive choice...but she's going home in a few weeks and it was really peaceful?]

Scene three: Avian pace setters. 
Running along the beach with an incredible sunset to my right, waves splashing over my bare feet and a little flock of sandpipers running along in front of me.  I started laughing.  Snack, run, fly, land.  Search, run, fly, land.  For some reason these little birds sparked a great memory of a week that should have been a terrible memory.  Funny how the hard parts become the best parts.

And fourth but not least: Frying things.
I find great joy in frying things.  Most recently: eggs, salt, "homemade bread mix flour", maple syrup, water, cocoa power and walnuts.  You can dump almost anything into a bowl, stir and after adding a healthy amount of olive oil into a heated skillet, come out with something delicious. 


And since this post involves Michigan I'm going to take a moment to share my surprise, maybe even disbelief at this discovery.

Comfort from Packer.

I'm so glad people write.

What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it-the fact that He knows me.  I am graven on the palms of His hands.  I am never out of His mind.  all my knowledge of Him depends on His sustained initiative in knowing me.  I know Him, because He first knew me, and continues to know me.  He knows me as a friend, one who loves me, and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when His care falters.

This is a momentous knowledge.  There is unspeakable comfort-the sort of comfort that energises, be it said, not enervates-in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love, watching over me for my good.  There is tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion Him about me, in the way I am so disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me.  There is, certainly, great cause for humility in the thought that He sees all the twisted things about me that my fellow-men do not see (and I am glad!), and that He sees more corruption in me than that which I see in myself (which, in all conscience, is enough).  There is, however, equally great incentive to worship and love God in the thought that, for some unfathomable reason, He wants me as His friend, and desires to be my friend, and has given His Son to die for me in order to realise this purpose.  We cannot work these thoughts out here, but merely to mention them is enough to show how much it means to know, not merely that we know God, but that He knows us.  -Knowing God, J.I. Packer

[and yes, lucky for all of us, I am still reading this book. and will be for sometime given my perpetual habit of simultaneously reading five books, finishing none.]

Psalm 73. Thank you.

Truly God is good to Israel,
to those who are pure in heart. But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled,
my steps had nearly slipped.For I was envious of the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

For they have no pangs until death; their bodies are fat and sleek.They are not in trouble as others are; they are not stricken like the rest of mankind.Therefore pride is their necklace;
violence covers them as a garment.Their eyes swell out through fatness;their hearts overflow with follies.They scoff and speak with malice; loftily they threaten oppression. They set their mouths against the heavens,and their tongue struts through the earth.Therefore his people turn back to them, and find no fault in them.t

And they say, "How can God know?Is there knowledge in the Most High?" Behold, these are the wicked; always at ease, they increase in riches.

All in vain have I kept my heart clean
and washed my hands in innocence.For all the day long I have been stricken
and rebuked every morning.If I had said, "I will speak thus,"
I would have betrayed the generation of your children.

But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end.

Truly you set them in slippery places;
you make them fall to ruin. How they are destroyed in a moment,
swept away utterly by terrors!  Like a dream when one awakes,
O Lord, when you rouse yourself, you despise them as phantoms.

When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you.

Nevertheless, I am continually with you;

you hold my right hand;

you guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. 

Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart fail, 

But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

For behold, those who are far from you shall perish; you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.

But for me it is good to be near God;

I have made the Lord God my refuge,

that I may tell of all your works.

Mangoes.

I want to be a mango farmer.
I would eat so many mangoes my skin would turn an orange.  I'd be full of vitamin A and beta-cartoene so the weird looks from the locals would be worth it.

I ate one today.  A huge mango.  Perfectly ripe and other worldly delicious.  I was scrapping the remnants off the skins with my teeth between slicing and was surprised to find myself sad.  Who in their right mind would be sad while indulging in something so delectable?  Apparently I would, the girl who is finding herself at home, in her parent's basement [literally], without a job or a real plan.  The girl finding herself trying to meet non-existant expectations, trying to let go of pride and trying to trust fully and live well in this season that she's not always super excited about.  The girl who is finding herself desperately homesick for California, she is getting emotional over mangoes.

It's funny how a little thing, in a thin situation, can elicit such a strong response.  The reality is that this emotional ninja sneak attack has nothing to do with the actual mango.  It is all of these experiences attached to the fruit.

Glass jars full of them, being slowly enjoyed by my beautiful roommate Joy over a weeks time. [sometimes longer depending on the busyness of life or if it got lost behind the layers in the chaos that was our refrigerator]   Learning the easy way to cut the messy fruit from Ben.  [forget peeling, just cut the thing and eat it off the peel.  easy. simple. just my style] Experimenting with Craig using pureed mango for the sweetener in granola when we was on the Levitical diet.  I just remembered having a conversation with a guy in Whole Foods [o, my second home how i miss thee] about which of the two types was better over samples from the clear plastic orbs on pedestals.

By the way I never thought I would become so attached to Whole Foods.  I always thought it was pretentious, but they won me over body and soul.  I can't find my favorite things anymore, even if they are a bit expensive, their absence is frustrating. But enough about my addictions to overpriced groceries, I'm wondering how long I will want to cry while slicing fruit?  Will I get the Northern California out of my system over time?  I suppose we will have to wait and see.  Until then, if you find me in the produce aisle sobbing uncontrollably it's either because I remembered the time I ate sugary medjool dates and broke open a fresh coconut with beach rocks or I am mourning the loss of simply being able to buy dates and Lundberg rice cakes.

Walk the Dog, Sleeper, Around the World and Rock the Baby.

What is it about being unemployed and moving home that makes me stay up late and resurrect my blog?

Wait.  Don't answer that.

I love a lot of things.

[lavender. peanut butter. flavored coffee. oceans [salt OR fresh water]. clouds. turquoise. not showering. cooking. eating. making cards. reading books. running. sleeping in tents. rafting. sleepy music. early mornings. fog. sunshine. bare feet. redwood trees. moss. chocolate. tea. using lots of periods while typing. braids. incense. tomatoes. experiments. chips and salsa. brushing my teeth with hot water. honey. museums. being alone. talking about life. reading scripture. journals. airports. mummy bags. asking questions. body odor [depending on its pungency]. accents [and i'm not talking abroad, i'm talking michigan vs. maine vs. pennsylvania vs. california. love it]. walks. exploring. rocks. maine. sebastapol. san francisco. occidental. gold coast coffee. pentwater in the summer. old things. not spending money. tea tree oil. black stretchy pants. et cetera.]

And I love writing.
For a number of reasons, but mostly because it is good for me. And I think I need some more good-for-me in my life for this o, so familiar stage where I don't know what direction I'm heading. I no longer consider myself a yo-yo runner. Unfortunately I haven't kicked the up and down nature of my writing habits. So unemployed self, you will now begin writing again. To sort some things out and remind yourself of some things.

To start things off, don't forget this:

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken. How long will all of you attack a man to batter him, like a leaning wall, a tottering fence? They only plan to thrust him down from his high position. They take pleasure in falsehood. They bless with their mouths, but inwardly they curse. Selah For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Selah Those of low estate are but a breath; those of high estate are a delusion; in the balances they go up; they are together lighter than a breath. Put no trust in extortion; set no vain hopes on robbery; if riches increase, set not your heart on them. Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God, and that to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love. For you will render to a man according to his work.  psalm 62.