Makes Me Think

Every Wednesday morning one of the local radio stations has a segment called Zuko's CyberScoop.  The DJ references a few websites that listeners have recommended or that he has stumbled across.  He had one this morning, though, that caught my attention.  And after reading a few, I'll admit that I got a little misty-eyed.  I'll let the site do the talking.

http://www.makesmethink.com/

Today, I was sitting on a park bench eating a sandwich I made myself for lunch when an elderly couple pulled their car up under a nearby oak tree. They rolled down the windows and turned up some jazz music on the radio. Then the man got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for the woman, took her hand and helped her out of her seat, guided her about ten feet away from the car, and they slow danced for the next half hour under the oak tree. MMT


Today, I took a cab ride 16 blocks in Manhattan and when I got to my destination I realized I forgot my wallet at home. As I fumbled through my purse, trying to explain things to the cab driver and scrounge up enough cash, a man walked up behind me and handed me a $50 bill. “Thank you!” I said. “Let me have your address. I will pay you back.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an old receipt and wrote down an address. “You can drop off my money here,” he said. This afternoon I went to the address he gave me and found myself standing in front of a soup kitchen that had a sign out front that said, “Accepting cash donations to feed the hungry.” I walked in and donated the $50. MMT


Today, my father celebrated his 85th birthday in his hospice bed. Our entire family gathered in his room to celebrate with him. It was a bittersweet experience. And a few hours before he passed he used every bit of strength he had to read a love letter aloud to us that my mom had written to him back in 1946 when they first started dating. MMT


Today, I saw my elderly neighbor down at his mailbox getting his mail when a gust of wind ripped a large yellow envelope out of his hand and blew it down the street. As I got up to assist him, my dog, who was sitting on my front porch next to me, unexpectedly got up and went running after the envelope, caught it in her mouth halfway down the block, and brought it back to my neighbor. MMT

Today, I am a corporate accountant for a privately held chain of restaurants in the mid west. Our company employs several hundred people. The economic downturn has had a noticeable effect on the number of customers eating in our restaurants, but not a single employee has been laid off. But what our employees don't know is that the owner hasn't written himself a paycheck in six straight months. MMT

(Mis)Adventures in Baking

I had last night is what I considered a baking FAIL, which is not normal for me.  I'd like to believe I'm a decent baker.  However, I know I am prone to mistakes and failures, with the occasional recipe quite literally crashing and burning. For the most part, though, I can hold my own in the baking realm. 

I first encountered this cupcake a few weeks ago when a lady at church made them for a small group leaders meeting.  It was like discovering a whole new world when I first tasted this cupcake.  Out-of-this-world good.  Being from Ohio, we love our Buckeyes, and I'm not talking about the football team (although we love them, too, we are just having an unstable relationship at the moment).  I'm talking about the chocolate peanut butter candies.  These cupcakes were like eating a cake version of those Buckeyes.  

So, I got the recipe from my friend and I morphed into a domestic goddess last night and decided to give the recipe a try.  The general idea is that it's a yellow cake mix with peanut butter cookie dough in the middle.  Sounds simple enough, right?  That's what I thought.  

I mix them up, stick the cookie dough in the center, and slide them into the oven.  Twenty-three minutes later I'm wondering where I went wrong.  My friend's cupcakes definitely didn't look like this.  They overflowed the edges a little bit, which is fine.  I can deal with that.  But then when they began to cool, they started to collapse.  And then the center got bigger and bigger until I was left with a gaping hole right in the middle of my cupcake - where, in theory, the peanut butter cookie dough should have filled up the space.  Yeah, not so much.  They ended up looking like donuts.  It was like the scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Clark goes to slice the turkey - it looks so great and so amazing and then he cuts into and the entire thing deflates.  That's how this felt. 

So, I'm not sure what in the world I did to botch this one up, but I am going to have to call up the reinforcements and see what my strategy should be for next time.  I mean, they tasted great and I'll definitely still eat them, they just look terrible.  

I included the recipe below, which is from The Cake Mix Doctor Returns cookbook.  I hope yours turn out better than mine.     

INGREDIENTS

24 paper liners for cupcake pans
1 package plain yellow cake mix
3 tablespoons vanilla instant pudding mix
1 cup reduced fat sour cream
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 package (16.5 oz) refrigerated peanut butter cookie dough, chilled

Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 350. Line 24 cupcake cups with paper liners and set the pans aside.

Place the cake mix, pudding mix, sour cream, milk, oil, eggs and vanilla in a large mixing bowl and beat with an electric mixer on low speed for 30 seconds. Stop the machine and scrape down teh side of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Increase mixer speed to medium and beat for 2 minutes longer, scraping down the sides of the bowl again as needed. The batter should look well blended.

Set aside about 3/4 cup of the cupcake batter before filling the cupcake pans. Using the rest of the batter, spoon or scoop a heaping 1/4 cup of batter into each lined cupcake cup, filling it two thirds of the way full. (You will get between 22 and 24 cupcakes;remove empty liners, if any.)

Unwrap the cookie dough and slice the log lengthwise into four pieces. Then cut each piece into 6 even chunks. Place a chunk of cookie dough on top of each cupcake and push it down into the batter. Top each piece of cookie dough with about 1 teaspoon of the reserved cupcake batter.

Place the pans in the oven and bake the cupcakes until they are golden and the tops spring back when lightly pressed with a finger, 18-23 minutes. Remove the pans from oven and place them on wire racks to cool for 5 minutes. Remove cupcakes from pans and place on wire racks to cool for 15 more minutes before frosting.

...After All

I'm pretty sure anybody walking by my desk today at the precise moment I read a particular email would probably have given me a really puzzled expression and asked if I was okay. 

I was, in fact, okay - just rather stunned and too busy picking up my jaw from desk. Then awe settled in as I considered the intricacies of how God brings together the pieces of our world.

I received an email earlier today from my good friend Kate, whom I met while in Kenya last summer.  We quickly became partners in crime and had many an adventure together, our safari probably being the most memorable.  We've kept in touch since then and are both hoping to go back to Africa sometime next summer together, if God wills.  Kate is currently in Burkina Faso with her daughter and son-in-law as those two are adopting a little boy from Burkina.  Kate went along to help with the process and to be of assistance in taking care of her other grandchildren. 

Well, this past Saturday one of the orphanage's staff members from another village came into town to run some errands and help with finalizing the adoption process of the young boy.  Kate and this staff member get to chatting, Kate mentions she had been to Africa before with the Rafiki Foundation.  The staff member turns to Kate and says, "Oh yeah, I know the Rafiki Foundation. I know a girl who went to Kenya with them."  "Well, what's her name?"  "Courtney."  "You know Courtney?!" 

Lo and behold, this staff member is Becky, a girl that I worked with for a year back in Missouri!  Our offices were practically next to each other and we had had several conversations about Africa and our interests there.  Becky was a year younger than me in grad school, starting her first year when I was starting my second year.  She eventually left the program because she just knew that she wanted "to love on little black babies," so away to Africa she went.  She's pretty much been there ever since.

Can you believe that?  What are the odds?  How amazing that God orchestrates these moments where individual lives intersect, but still somehow manage to leave us all connected.   

It really is a small world.

After all. 

Big Picture Definitions

Oh, life.  Sometimes I wonder about you.  Like how the heck you and I are supposed to work together.  Or how I'm supposed to survive you without completely botching everything up. 

I have felt this tremendous pressure lately - probably self-imposed - to have somehow "arrived" at a job better than one as an admin assistant and to own a home or to at least be living somewhere other than with my parents. (I hate seeing that last part in black and white.)  I wrestle back and forth - do I get an apartment?  Do I buy house?  What is this desire to own a home?  As Christians, how much of the American Dream should we buy into?  What does it look like to live in community?  Where should I live?  Why do we own homes?  What does it ultimately signify?  And if I go back to Africa for any length of time, shouldn't I really answer that question first before I go and buy a house?  Am I less of a person for not being out on my own?  What if people think I'm a slacker?  Am I enabling some kind of crazy habit and I don't even realize it?  Why do I have this job?  Am I a good steward of my talents and skills?  Why am I not better using the education I have?  Should I be doing something different vocationally?  Is this really how it's supposed to be?

I have no good answers, unfortunately.  I suppose some of my thought process stems from reading books like Radical by David Platt and Crazy Love by Francis Chan, books that really challenge(d) me to reevaluate biblical truths versus things I had been told all my life, things that I just bought hook, line, and sinker.  A lot of "why" questions came out as a result of those books - why this, why that, why not this, why not that.

I really appreciated what Shiao Chong wrote in an article for Comment:    

If we don't make enough money to buy the latest technological gadgets, watch the latest movies, wear the latest fashions, eat at the trendiest places, in short, if we do not have the money power to participate in the culture of consumerism, to be a consumer, we are left out at the margins; we are not "in" or "hip"; we are made to feel that we are missing out. We are not worthy because we don't fit the big picture definition of who we are supposed to be.

But just who is it that we are supposed to be and what is the big picture definition?  Who is writing that definition?  And why are we defining our worth on whether we have a home or a corporate career?  Why am I defining my worth based on those things?  Not to say that those things are wrong - having things, pursuing a great job, etc - but the question must be "What is our motive?"  Why am I seeking those things?  And are we doing it from a biblical, Christ-centered worldview? 

I sure wish I knew.

"What? You Too?"

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one."   - C.S. Lewis

I must say, I've got it good when it comes to friendships.  This past week I took a little road trip out to Missouri, back to my alma mater to spend a few days catching up with some of the dearest people in my life, and to also witness a friend's wedding. 

It's always a whirlwind returning to Missouri for such weekend excursions, but every moment winds up being so valuable.  As soon as I landed on Wednesday afternoon, I met up with a friend for dinner and then spent the evening with Ed and Debbie.  I can't even begin to express how much that couple has influenced my life, particularly Debbie.  I imagine college would have looked very different without her guidance. 

Thursday was spent drinking and eating my way through conversations - and by drinking I mean French Vanilla cappuccinos and strawberry smoothies.  I made a pit-stop back on campus to see former co-workers, people I consider dear friends.  Friday was similar with a surprise visit from a friend that I wasn't expecting to see, but was so grateful to spend time with her.  Just so many good conversations, the ones that just feel so right.  The ones where it's a little bit like coming home.  The ones that are exactly what C.S. Lewis was talking about, where you remember the moment when you first met and said, "Yes!  Someone who gets me.  It's nice to know I'm not alone in my zany-ness and quirks and insecurities." 

It's nice to know I've got kindred spirits who are willing to laugh along with me, who know not to take ourselves too seriously.  It's nice to know I've got a friend close by who will move with me into a convent when we've decided we've had enough of boys and their shenanigans.  (We're totally joking, but we often say we're going to join a convent when we want to take the easy way out and just avoid boys all together.  It's happened frequently as of late.)  It's nice to know I've got friends who can talk Mizzou and Ohio State football as well as they can talk about theology, Tozer, and whether I should go with this nail polish color or that one.  It's nice to know that everyone else's family is just as crazy as mine.  

So, to my "other family" in Missouri - I am blessed because of you.  And so very grateful.       

Here Comes Friday With a Script I Haven't Seen

It's amazing the timeliness of some recent events here lately.  Just small things that have come at just the right moment.  Maybe it was something that someone said, or an act of kindness that someone went out of their way to complete, or a sweet text message, or a bouquet of flowers from a dear friend, or an email from a respected pastor that spawned all sorts of possibilities and ideas.  The little things that have added up to the big things and made me all the more grateful.

One of those timely small things was the poem below.  I snatched it from Travis's blog, which seems to be a habit as of late.  I happened to read it the morning after I had a minor meltdown about life and relationships, basically having my own pity-party and feeling like I was "ill-prepared for the privilege of living."  I think it hit me at just the right time and spoke to so many of the emotions that were running through my head and my heart. 

Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.
I have to guess on the spot
Just what this play’s all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for hammy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me even more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can’t take back,
Stars you’ll never get counted,
Your character like a raincoat you button on the run -
The pitful results of all this unexpectedness.

If I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
Or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
Since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).

You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
Taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.

The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
Will become forever what I’ve done.

Wistawa Szymborska

One Year Ago Today...

...I was on a plane headed to Nairobi, Kenya.

And I've spent every day since then missing it. 

I know, you're probably tired of hearing about it.  :P

Because God Is

This is what I hold onto in days when I'm just not sure I'll ever get this thing called life "right":

"Because God is almighty, we have been set free from thinking that we need to manipulate circumstances, maneuver people, manufacture resources, or move ahead of God in order to bring to pass what He has for our lives. God has everything to see to it that it is done. He will do it perfectly, in the perfect way, at the perfect time. When we let Him bring to us what He has for us, we can receive it freely and enjoy it fully."

To The Loving Eye

To the fearful eye, all is threatening.

To the greedy eye, everything can be possessed.

To the judgmental eye, everything is closed in definitive frames.

To the resentful eye, everything is begrudged.

To the indifferent eye, nothing calls or awakens.

To the inferior eye, everything else is greater.

To the loving eye, everything is real.

From Travis's blog

Where to Go from Here

Sometimes my brain gets on overload and I get overwhelmed with all that floats around in my head.  Too many thoughts.  Too many books.  Too many questions and not enough answers.  Too many doubts.  Too many fears.  Too many what ifs and hows.  Too many uncertainties.  Too many "to do's."  Too many longings and too many dreams. 

I'm haunted every day by the thought of Africa.  Haunted every day by the question of "What am I supposed to do next about this magnificent dream that is all wrapped up in terrible fears?" 

I've been on this binge of reading a handful of books that are slowly - and radically - changing how I view poverty, my role in it, and my thoughts on Africa.  I dove headlong into Dambisa Moyo's book Dead Aid:  Why Aid is Not Working and How There is a Better Way for Africa.  Far too many thoughts on that book to include in this post, but let's just say it's completely changed my view on how to appropriately respond to the needs in Africa. 

Then I picked up Deborah Rodriguez's book Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil.  It's about a woman who for all intents and purposes has no practical skills to offer the women in Afghanistan (or so it seems), where she goes to work with an NGO.  She's not even sure why the NGO sent her - she's a hairdresser and everyone else on the team was either a doctor, lawyer, or nurse.  What did she have to offer?  It's the very question I wrestle with.  What do I have to offer a world, a country, that is so desperately in need of practical skills?  I don't teach, can't build things, can't heal people, and don't understand the first thing about what it really means to "live bent low," as Katie says.  Rodriguez would go on to a open a beauty school that teaches Afghani women how to run their own salons so that they can lift themselves out of poverty and into a better life.

Add to that, Muhammad Yunus's book Banker to the Poor: Micro-lending and the Battle Against World Poverty.  The guy founded the Grameen Bank in the 1970s.  If you don't know what the Grameen Bank is, do your homework.  It's staggering the impact his simple economic plan has had on the impoverished.  Oh, and let's throw in Jacqueline Novogratz's book The Blue Sweater for good measure.  The woman has a favorite blue sweater that she wore all the time as a kid.  She eventually donates it to charity.  Years later, while running through the streets of Uganda, she sees a little boy wearing a blue sweater.  Her blue sweater.  She now spends her life devoted to the Acumen Fund and to bridging the gap for the poorest of the poor.  I want to work for someone like her someday.  Heck, let's just work for her.   

Now you can see why my brain is on overload.  So many thoughts crowding in and around, over and underneath.  And I have no idea what to do with it all, or even where to begin.

I wrote in my journal the other day - after I had printed out Katie's (see link above) blog post about living bent low:

"Am I willing to live bent low?  I want to, but I'm afraid.  All I know is that Africa burns within me."

What are you supposed to do with the fires within?