Wednesday, October 15, 2008

a month in brief

A few friends have kindly brought to my attention the fact that I’ve not updated this fine blogspot since May 14, 2008, which, I’m told, was a Tuesday. The fact that the last day I updated was a Tuesday strikes me as being of little relevance, aside from the fact that it illustrates the astuteness of the reader who observed it—thanks reader. The fact that the last day I updated was May 14th, however, presents what appears to me as an interesting angle.

In the interest of catching this space up to speed I had it in mind that I’d take fragments from journal entries leading from the point of departure (the already established date in May) to the present (a fine Wednesday evening, October 15. Practically the next day, give or take a few months…) Flipping to the entry most closely correlating with the beginning date I was please to find that I’d written in my personal journal on May 14. Abbreviating this entry presents little challenge as it consists of a single sentence in the middle of a page;


“Why am I still here?”


“…He and I stayed up till morning talking while D. dozed next to me on the futon, eventually climbing to the loft. I wish I could recount everything A. and I talked about that night. It was exciting. There aren’t many conversations I would call exciting. We covered addiction/recovery, speaking the truth, personal development, purpose/calling, his desire to channel the fantastic stories that seem to be falling on him from above—oh the dreams that stirred—thoughts about community, collaboration & faith. I realized eventually that there would be no natural end to this flow and suggested we follow D’s lead and sleep awhile. A’s tiny frame somehow fit curled in the window seat. I made my bed of the futon, still folded as a couch…The next morning D. and I walked to the shore of Lake Michigan…On the trail that encircled it we encountered a jogging Superman and Ronald McDonald on a bike. We wound up walking all the way downtown to see the absurd, magnificent Bean. It was afternoon by then—we took the train back so we’d have time to be with Az. as she anxiously awaited her wedding. I love city trains.

Pop said Mom doesn’t want me to go to Palestine because I’ll marry a Palestinian and join the cause. He suggests an Irishman instead, as long as I don’t get swept up in the IRA. I told him not to worry, A. thinks I’ll never marry; after all, I’m Amy Nee.


Driving to the lake I felt excited. The sun was high and warm. The sky was blue with islands of clouds. The trees were luminously green. I loved the light that spilled onto the curving road, laced by trees shadows. I love the mix CD Laura had made reminding her of our time together. I loved that I was about to be immersed in water. Sometimes I’m afraid that I might be having too much fun…
It’s odd how one’s sense can acclimate. I didn’t notice the extra-terrestrial, unbroken hum of the cicadas until Monica pointed it out to me. There are so many sounds out here; a cacophony or a symphony depending on how your ear is turned…

What does it mean to be a Christian, and have I the will to live it? Yes. Faith is a gift – but, the songs must be sung or they will be forgotten.


When I thought I might not make it through today, I remembered Jesus’ words to his disciples: “You feed them.” They’d just returned from a journey on which they’d not even been allowed an extra cloak as they approached villages of strangers with a radical new Way. Now, they’d followed Jesus with the hope of rest and were instead faced with thousands of hungry men and women.
“Where will we find bread for all these?”
“You feed them.”
How small are the challenges I face in light of others tests and trials! And how shamefully evident that it takes rough patches to remind me that I need more than me…

…In class today I had the women write their visions for the future and realized I have no such thing.


J., who’d come to meet me at the car was standing at my side. In the living room, with no lights on, M. sat in the recliner, playing guitar and singing “Sound of Silence.” We nodded an acknowledgment…
J. introduced me to one of the women. She had a tiny from and steely, shoulder length hair. The other, I had already met.
While M. and L. showered, J. and I tried to learn the hymns MA had given me to practice for the Indiana-Kentucky Synod. My fumbling attempt at finding the melody on the piano left us laughing more than singing.

And that is all for the month of May. This may be a bigger project than I’d anticipated.

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