No. More.

I would just like to announce--to scream it from the rafters--that I am VERY tired of being sick.

This morning I was awakened by 496 builders hammering in my head. I chased them away with two little pills, but they have since returned.

Those weren't the only pills I swallowed, either. There were seven in all: vitamins, minerals, antibiotics, probiotics, decongestants.

Of course, no one wants to hear me complain about being sick. But somehow complaining helps, so I send these bitter words out into cyberspace, my screams echoing off into the wilderness of the world wide web:

"I. DON'T. WANT. TO. BE. SICK. ANYMORE!"

Will I ever exercise again? Will I ever have energy again? Will I ever stop blowing my nose? If you have an answer, dear internet, please share, please do.

Dinner on the Drive

Freshly swept driveway

Smoke swirling, dipping, diving
Flowers stuck in cup
Benches, plates and forks
Sunlight, glinting on glass jars
Pineapple, tomatoes, chicken
Skewer sticks in honey jar
Sticky fingers, smacking tongues
Laughing faces, lowering sun
Dinner on the drive
With family, friends, and fun

A Prayer

Father, convict me of my sin, that I might know your grace. Show me the lengths of my damnation, that I might see the depths of your salvation. Bring me to thee "renouncing, condemning, loathing myself, but hoping in the grace that flows even to the chief of sinners" (Puritan prayer). It is not false humility, or a wallowing self-abasement that I seek, but the destruction of my pride. Show me how wicked I am, and how good, you.

Remind me daily of these words: "What Our Lord wants us to present Him is not goodness, not honesty, nor endeavor, but real, solid sin; that is all He can take from us. And what does He give us in return? Real, solid righteousness. But we must relinquish all pretense of being anything, all claim of being worthy of God's consideration" (Oswald Chambers).

Take my pretense, Lord. Take my trying. Take me to the foot of the Cross in tears, and raise me in your arms--triumphant, redeemed.

The Bike Ride

A few days ago, I decided I wanted to bike to the Farmers' Market on Park Ave. But I needed a friend. I called Gabriela.

[Relatively] early this morning, we got up and prepared for the long ride. When we started out, I was bundled warmly. Before long, however, I shed my gloves and sweater and basked in the warmth of Saturday.

Gabriela rode our bike; I rode Julia's. We made quite a pair, both bikes clunking and clicking along. Despite the not-so-smooth-or-quiet bicycles, we made good time, and were at the Farmers' Market by 10:00am.

The bright sun and clear sky had called crowds of people to the market. Milling about the stalls, they ate samples and bought vegetables and brushed shoulders. We joined them, and a nice man gave me a plum--for free! After we'd had our fill of samples and sight-seeing, we bought bagels from the bakery inside and ate them leaning against a fencepost, the sun in our eyes. Oh, delight! That is a meal I will be thinking of for a long, long time.

By the time we returned home, it was time for Gabriela to meet her mom. After dropping her off, I picked up Macy and Mollie and went to Jiffy Lube for an oil change. Since Bright Light Books is now in the same plaza as Jiffy Lube, the girls wandered over there while I waited for my car. As usual, I had a lovely time at the auto shop.

A cute young man with bright eyes took my car and keys from me, and another sweet young man held the door for me to walk into the shop. While I sat in the waiting room, a boy with a red fro, earrings, and lots of tattoos came in, looked around awkwardly, and asked if anyone was in the bathroom. When I told him I didn't think so, he mumbled, "Well, I guess I'll go then," and disappeared. (Hehe) A moment later, I was called outside by a debonair black man, who explained everything they were going to do to my car.

Apparently I was way past due for an oil change, and he spent a while explaining the damage I was causing Mirabelle. [oops] Then he led me back inside, and while we waited for the cute young man with bright eyes to finish doing whatever he was doing, Darin (the debonair black man) asked me about my life. In the course of our conversation, I learned that he was a Christian, then listened with tears in my eyes as he told me his tragic "life story". It was a special conversation, one of those bright moments that bring total strangers together for a breath.

By the time his story was over, my car was all finished. As I paid, he told me that he would always pray for me; that meeting me had made his day. I don't know why I always dread taking my car in; every time I've been at the garage with Mirabelle, it's been a wonderful time!

Thank the Lord for Saturdays. :)

What's Cooking?

It's been a while since I've blogged about food, so I thought I'd share about the dinner I cooked tonight.

After a Harville's/Wal-mart outing, I was set with all the ingredients I needed. A few days ago this dish just popped into my head; this evening was the time to see if it was creatable. As soon as I got home from the store, I started slicing and smashing and shaking and sprinkling.

Honestly, it was very simple. This is the recipe I created. Feel free to recreate it. :)

Ingredients:
5 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
1/2 red onion, thinly slice
1 large tomato, thinly sliced
1 lemon, thinly sliced
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
kosher salt
black pepper

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Place chicken in greased 9 x 13 pan. Aesthetically place onion, tomato, lemon, and garlic slices on top of chicken. Sprinkle with kosher salt and black pepper, to taste (about 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper). Bake 30 minutes, or until chicken is done (no longer pink when cut open).

While the chicken was cooking, I made some hummus.

Ingredients:
1 can garbanzo beans/chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1/3 cup tahini (ground sesame seeds)
1/4 olive oil
3 cloves garlic, smashed
2 T lemon juice
Red bell peppers in a jar, to taste (along with some of the juice)
Water, if needed (don't add it unless you really can't get the beans to mix!)

Directions:
Dump all the ingredients in the blender and turn it on. You will have to stop, stir, and start again quite a few times before it will mix completely. Don't get frustrated--it will eventually turn into a lovely, smooth paste. Served with pita, this dip is absolutely scrumptious!

Next, I tossed green beans with lemon juice, garlic slices, a little bit of olive oil, salt (kosher, of course), and pepper, and roasted them in the oven at 450 degrees for 10 minutes. Yum!

Even Drew was generous in his appreciation of the meal. Success!

The Bird.

I am a bird. I try to fly alone, to sail throught the skies by myself. But my wings are broken. Sagging against the cold earth, I realize that flyinbg alone has only ever been a delusion.

For months now, I have felt numb, stagnant. When Engedi (aka: church camp) came onto the calendar, I started praying that it would be a refreshing time of spiritual revival. Although my prayer wasn't answered exactly as I wanted, I did come away from this past Engedi weekend awakened, face to face with myself as that broken-winged bird.

Ever since I was a kid, I've struggled with perfectionism. I remember freaking out when my sibligns sat on my bed and wrinkled the perfectly smoothed covers. I remember making my mom finish drawing my pictures so they would look right. I remember crying when plays I "directed" turned into catastrophes.

"You're panties are in a wad," my family has always sweetly told me. But I'm afriad it's more than that; I'm trying to be my own savior. And I keep failing.

Zach Van Dyke, the speaker at Engedi, said that obedience can distance us from God. As crazy as that sounds, look at the Pharisees--they upheld the law "perfectly," but when crowds gathered to hear Jesus speak, they stood on the outskirts. Sitting at the feet of Christ were the tax collectors, the sick, the children, the prostitutes.

During another session, Zach told the story of the adulterous woman the Pharisees threw at Jesus. After Christ challenged them by saying, "Let he who has never sinned be the first to throw a stone," they dropped their rocks and slinked away. They left to write more lists and obey more laws, to promise themselves they'd never do that again, that they'd be better, they'd be good. Had they remained with Jesus, they would have heard him tell the shamed woman he did not condemn her. With shocked stares, they would have watched Jesus stretch out his hand and help her up. They would have seen him love her, and they would have known he loved her not because she had done anything worthy, but because he was about to pay for her sins with his blood.

I am a Pharisee, an adulterous woman; I am sick and I am prideful: a sinner. I am a bird with broken wings. No matter how hard I try to save myself--to mend my wings--I keep falling back to the ground. Slowly, very slowly, I am learning to be still, to simply rest at the foot of the Cross and let Christ be my salvation. It is only on the wings of grace that I will ever fly.

Sylvester

My laptop came in the mail yesterday!

His name is Sylvester.
He's shiny black and very light.
He wants cool stickers.

I'm not sure if I like his keyboard...