thirsty for rain

Eno River State Park

2010-12-13T17:45:00.000-08:00

My roommates, a co-worker friend, and I went on a great hike through Eno River State Park this past weekend. With the baretrees and open forest we were able to see some beautiful birds. The trees and weather in North Carolina are so different from Washington. The cold is brisk but heavier. The trails around Eno are smooth and spacious, a great place to run. My new co-worker Jessamyn took photos on our walk. Click her name to see more.

This is my fabulous roommate Mary from Pennsylvania. She loves athletics and is a great long distance runner. She took me on an 8 mile run yesterday. Ahhh. She is also reading Harry Potter straight through for the first time. I couldn't be more proud. Mary is also fantastic at pillow talk.

An Eastern Heron- brighter and smaller then the ocean fishers on the west coast.

Isn't this seedpod spectacular? I can't figure out what type of vine this is.

On the left is my other wonderful roommate Susan. She is studying at Duke's school of Public Policy, did Peace Corps for two years in Kazakhstan, and writes for Christianity Today.

Winter Kale Soup

2010-12-01T19:12:00.001-08:00

I am not sure of my mother's exact recipe for white bean and kale soup, but I found this one on www.epicurious.com. I was missing Mimzie on Thanksgiving and have fond memories of her winter stews. I was also feeling prideful and wanted to show off some of the beautiful kale I planted earlier this fall.

Ingredients

1 lb dried white beans such as Great Northern, cannellini, or navy
2 onions, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
5 cups chicken broth
2 qt water
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 bay leaf (not California)
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary
1 lb smoked sausage such as kielbasa (optional), sliced crosswise 1/4 inch thick
8 carrots, halved lengthwise and cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
1 lb kale -stems and center ribs discarded and leaves coarsely chopped

Directions

Cover beans with water by 2 inches in a pot and bring to a boil. Remove from stove top and let stand, uncovered, for an 1 hour. Drain beans in a colander. Also rinse (which I forgot to do) this cleans the beans of.. something that makes you have really bad gas. Oops.

Cook onions in oil in an 8-quart pot over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes. I think it took me longer to chop and cry than to cook these tear jerkers.

Add garlic (the best part of any meal) and cook, stirring, 1 minute.

Add beans, broth, 1 quart water, salt, pepper, bay leaf, and rosemary and simmer, uncovered, until beans are just tender, about 50 minutes.

While soup is simmering, brown sausage (if using) in batches in a heavy skillet over moderate heat, turning. So sorry I forgot a picture of the sausage. Don't forget to scrap the wonderful browning bits into the soup. Yum.

Stir carrots into soup and simmer 5 minutes. Stir in kale, sausage, and remaining quart water and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until kale is tender, 12 to 15 minutes. Season soup with extra salt and pepper to taste.

I toasted provolone on French bread and invited over wonderful friends to feast with.

Directions (all in one place)

Cover beans with water by 2 inches in a pot and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and let stand, uncovered, 1 hour. Drain beans in a colander and rinse.

Cook onions in oil in an 8-quart pot over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add beans, broth, 1 quart water, salt, pepper, bay leaf, and rosemary and simmer, uncovered, until beans are just tender, about 50 minutes.

While soup is simmering, brown sausage (if using) in batches in a heavy skillet over moderate heat, turning.

Stir carrots into soup and simmer 5 minutes. Stir in kale, sausage, and remaining quart water and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until kale is tender, 12 to 15 minutes. Season soup with extra salt and pepper to taste.

Adirondack chairs

2010-11-27T07:25:00.000-08:00

These are the chairs David designed and I helped build for our friends wedding. Aren't they beautiful? The snake attack was totally worth it, at least for me. I don't know if David would agree.
I am getting a little behind on my posting (as my family has informed me) but will speed up these next few days.

Happy Thanksgiving weekend. Sorry it is so cold in Washington but I do miss the snow.

Health Advocate

2010-11-07T12:03:00.000-08:00

I was given the gift of a new job.

I will be working for the Duke Divinity School's Clergy Health Initiative.

To my understanding, my role with the program will be to support the holistic wellness and health of rural North Carolina Methodist pastors. I will have sixty pastors whom I encourage, collect resources for, and educate. The specific program I am most involved with is titled Spirited Life. Here is helpful introductory article from the United Methodist's website about the Initiative shortly after it began.

I committed for the next two years. Hello Durham!! Who knew? I am thrilled to be working for the Divinity school in such a research oriented and interpersonal field. I feel sad about not returning to the Pacific Northwest as soon as I had hoped.

God has plans.

Wishing for luck isn't very theologically sound but seriously... wish me luck. :)

Having a good time.

2010-10-19T17:36:00.000-07:00

Dave and I made Adirondack chairs for some friends who got married. Will post those pics soon. We took these pictures outside of the beautiful Methodist Church where they got married in downtown Durham.

I had my first few days of work at the Duke Pre-Operations Clinic. The fast pace and load of medical jargon has been a challenge. I think it will get better.

Missing home, apples, mushrooms, and mountains.

Love,

kc

Fall crops

2010-10-16T08:23:00.000-07:00

Cleaned out Dave's garden from the summer and planted onions, broccoli, collards, lettuce and a bitter salad mix. I love the fall here in Durham.

A New Place

2010-10-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

Startling NC Encounter

2010-10-02T09:00:00.001-07:00

David and I are making a bookcase today. I have a small corner in my room where it would be nice to have a little library.
Dave lives on a ranch of 30 acres in an old musty house filled with character. I believe there have been four additions to the original home. The surrounding woods are filled with whitetail deer. One morning I saw an Eastern fox creep under the old wood shed out back.

The wood shed if filled with wonderful junk. I have found several interesting items for decorating the garden and my new apartment. I love recycling and making useless garbage into new creations. (Hm, how theological.)

This morning, I told Dave I found some good wood in the rafters of the old shed. We went inside the shed and climbed up to get the wood down. Dave grabbed several pieces and handed them down to me. I tossed them out on the grass and went in for more. After a couple loads, there were a few large pieces I still wanted for the bookcase. David reached up between the boards and shuffled them around.

A thin black tail dropped between the cracks. David yelled.

Sprinting out of the shed, David bent over in a panic. He kept yelling and buckling over in disgust.

He hates snakes.

The two foot long slithering reptile had a white underbelly and stared out in a zigzag shape from the rafters. David was convinced it was going to kill him.

I think it was a rat snake.

David is eating goldfish now and watching soccer to calm his nerves. I don't think we should go get that last piece of wood. I think David wants to move back to Washington tomorrow.

Welcome, to North Carolina.

My Brakes Don't Work

2010-09-26T14:14:00.000-07:00

David and I were enjoying a stroll around our favorite trail in Durham. The humid 90 degree weather and changing leaves are a strange phenomenon to my Northwest perception of fall. In North Carolina, crisp is a word reserved for bacon, not for autumn weather.

Leaning over a bridge we talked and gazed at a slow paced creek. Strange rattling noises caused us to look up the trail. Hurtling down the hill came a small boy on his bike. David raised his eyebrows in concern. The boy seemed totally out of control. He hit the bridge and flew up over the edge yelling, "LOOK OUT! Ahhhh!" Just ahead we saw the trail make a 90 degree turn. Redirecting the path was a single chain stretched between fence posts. To our horror, little boy barreled straight over the bridge, couldn't make the turn, and smashed into the chain. He flipped over his handle bars and hit the ground.

Dave and I raced towards him, asking him if he was okay. He was sniffling quietly. His shoe had come off and amazingly enough he only had a few scraps. David asked him is name and age as he scooped up seven year old Trevor into his arms. I snagged his shoe wheeled his bike back up the hill.

His mother came into sight. Upon seeing her crying child in a stranger's arms, she spoke softly, "Ah, the rescue team."

I had a feeling this sort of thing has happened before. What a patient mother.

Happenings.

2010-09-12T16:14:00.000-07:00

Off on my next grand adventure, I am moving to Durham, North Carolina. Expect pics and stories of pulled pork, humid weather, and Duke sweater vests. But most importantly, I am excited to live close to David and try something new.

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

-Mary Oliver

Six year old: Freedom

2010-05-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

My small 6 yr. old friend Ian and I were riding in the car to our after-school program. Ian is in the foster care system and is having a rough time adjusting to his new life. He cut his hair at school earlier that day with the art scissors.

While we were driving Wavin' Flag by K'NAAN came on the radio.

Chorus:
When I get older, I will be stronger,
They'll call me freedom, just like a Waving Flag,
And then it goes back, and then it goes back,
And then it goes back

IAN: "I know what freedom means."
ME: "Really? What does it mean?"
IAN: "It means never give up."
ME: "Where did you learn that?"
IAN: "Myself."

geraniums

2010-05-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

watercolors

2010-04-21T12:08:00.000-07:00

Foreword

2010-04-18T15:20:00.000-07:00

We are, howbeit, only in part, earthly creatures. We have been given the earth to live, not on, but with and from, and only on the condition that we care properly for it. We did not make it, and we know little about it.

Our relation to our land will always remain, to a significant extent, mysterious.

Therefore our use of it must be determined more by reverence and humility, by local memory and affection, than by the knowledge that we now call "objective" or "scientific". We must not damage it permanently or compromise its natural means of sustaining itself.

Excerpt written by Wendell Berry for the Foreword of Ellen Davis' Scripture, Culture and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible.

He awose, he awose.

2010-04-03T21:25:00.000-07:00

He awose, he awose. Hawewuyah Chwist awose.

Interpretation: He arose, he arose. Hallelujah, Christ arose.

Enjoy these adorable Easter tenors.

Triumphant Rodent

2010-03-26T09:52:00.000-07:00

A friend I know well was sipping his coffee in the warmth of the early Carolinian sunshine this morning.

He writes, " I saw an overzealous squirrel miss the targeted branch and free-fall 40 feet to the ground. Yet in a moment's time, the brave little squirrel got up and continued in the long upward quest."

And who said there were no more miracles?

Physics- that is a miracle. With the knowledge of the Gospel, one can read in God's design glimpses of hope and redemption.

Plus, I am partial to squirrels, especially brave, committed ones.

Sand Animation Video

2010-02-23T22:17:00.000-08:00

Sand Animation- Ukraine's Got Talent.

Let me know if you understand the imagery or stories she is telling.

Prizzly Bear or Grolar Bear?

2010-02-22T20:31:00.000-08:00

My friendly but opinionated boyfriend loves to play a game: king of beasts. The question is who would win in a fight? His all time favorite beast is the grizzly bear- with the polar bear a close second. His well thought out argument is hard to dispute. A grizzly bear's size, paw power, and jaw strength create a truly massive opponent.

Until now....

A grizzly bear - polar bear hybrid.

Yes, they are real.

This is the beast of all beasts.
Wikipedia has the inside scoop.

A new king of beasts.

Waxing Crescent

2010-02-20T00:27:00.000-08:00

I was feeling disappointed and sad while driving home this evening.
I was on the freeway, probably going too fast. I had been running around for 13 hours and needed to get home.

Then I rounded the corner. Above me hung a waxing crescent.

The moon.

My beautiful geologist friend taught me the moon phases.

Waxing is the right side (which hand do you use to wax your car?)
Crescent is self explanatory.
Gibbous is the full portion after crescent and half moon.
Waning is the left side of the moon.

Left side + fuller than half = waning gibbous.

Why is this interesting or important?

To name things is knowledge. Then you know something you can better respect and understand it.

Also, the moon is gorgeous. We should call her by her proper names.

Goodnight, Moon. Also, the title of an important children's book.

Also, also, I just found an iGoogle feature to view your current moon phase. Yes, internet.

White Chicken Chili

2010-02-17T20:21:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, Dave and I made this delicious recipe from my super special mommie's recipe. There is nothing like sharing a wonderful home-made meal with many people you love. I want to do it again.

Hello, domestic soul whom I have been stifling and avoiding.

Three cans or 45 ounces of great northern beans
2lb of chicken breasts
2 cups of broth
1 TB olive oil
1 cup of chopped artichokes (but I always use more)
4 oz mild diced green chilies
12 oz of Monterey jack cheese
3 cloves garlic
2 med onions chopped
2 1/2 tsp. cumin
1 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp cloves
1/4 cayenne pepper

Cook your chicken breasts in 1/2 inch of boiling water. Flip juicy breasts as needed. Slice chicken into soupy-size bites. Use leftover water as chicken broth.

Grab large pot and add cans of beans with their water (do not drain) into the pot on medium heat. Simmer- not boil. Simmer means one bubble every second or two, anything more is boiling. Add freshly chopped artichokes and green chilies when you desire but drain these bad boys- their juices are too potent.

In another saucepan saute(e with accent)- your chopped onions and garlic in the olive oil. You can add a bit of the spices to this mix if it delights you.

Add spices at the end. All good cooks taste their food. Get a long tasty spoon and add more cayenne pepper for more spice. I usually add more cumin because it is my favorite.

Throw everything together while singing with a large glass of wine in hand.
Stir pot with a large wooden spoon while making up witchy chants. This is a very important step and should not be avoided or scoffed at.

Ladle into chubby bowls and top with cheese. The original recipe adds the cheese to the soup but less is more when it comes to diary and meat. Americans consume too much of this- plus it makes me feel bad.

Enjoy with crunchy tortilla chips or the soda bread recipe I will post later this week.

Crafty

2010-02-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

I have just completed twenty hand-made valentines.
And, let me tell you: they are beautiful. I should have taken pictures but now I just have envelopes with all of YOUR addresses on them.

Well, actually, I did a raffle so good luck.

I am feeling so crafty these days. Yes, both kinds of crafty.

Crafty with glue = jewelry, cards, re-binding old books (I will take pictures of these)

Crafty like a fox = figuring out how to survive the world of day care.

I run a day care!? Haha. God, you are crazy.

I know in blogging you need to stick to your topic but can I tell a quick story?

Today at the church I was giving my job shpeel to, during the meet and greet, I held the softest hands I have ever held.

Attached to the fragile hands was a small, wrinkled face who exclaimed how glad she was that I was with her this morning and proceeded to hug me. This greatly surprised me because I am usually the hug initiator.

A friend at the service told me afterwards I had just been welcomed and held by a 100 year old woman.

That's right folks- remembers WWI. REMEMBERS IT!! That is World War One. UNO. The first, not the second.

Thank you God for surprises and old, soft hands.

the me monster

2010-01-21T23:06:00.000-08:00

Last evening, a co-worker and I had the privilege of sitting down with a small group, dedicated to social justice in the Whatcom County community. They listened, prayed, and responded with such intense honesty and grace. It was and I believe, will continue to be, a blessing.

After work today there was a situation which was so heart wrenching and frustrating, I could hardly breathe. Ungrateful is the word which writes itself in my head. Entitlement flashes by. Whatever the reason or cause, I know that serving families in crisis is insanely hard- has the highest burn-out rate of any job, and is teaching me many things I feel unprepared to learn.

Maybe, that is why I am learning them.

When faces with "helping" others, especially when emotions are high, I am learning mostly about me. I am trying to not get lost in self reflection but mirrors are what I see most these days. "Who am I?," we ask ourselves daily in a myriad of ways. What have I been? Who will I become?

e.e. cummings paints a picture of the journey I find myself on.

a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me--

who found forgiveness hard because
my(As it happened) self he was

--but now that fiend and i are such
immortal friends the other's each

Not So Large and In Charge

2010-01-14T21:12:00.000-08:00

I got a new job. Or, maybe the job got me.
I am currently working for a non-profit organization serving families in poverty in my Washington county. I am directing an after school academically focused tutoring center every school day, Monday through Friday. I am in way over my head, have no idea what to do with intense behavioral problems, have no organizational skills, and am loving it.

The kids are beasts and angels. Large victories and tragedies occur daily. Serving people in crisis makes me realize how judgmental, unprepared, and ignorant I am.

I am learning my strengths and my weaknesses- being challenged in ways I didn't know even existed.

Lil J came to the program in tears yesterday. "Kelli, the kids hate me because I am black and poor." If holding a small child is the only think in my entire life that I am suppose to do- then so be it. Thank you, God for blessing me. Help me not yell at them (too loud).

"There!"

2009-11-25T17:18:00.000-08:00

I feel badly posting a newly published poem. Apparently not badly enough not to do so. I continue in hopes that this glimpse will entice curiosity of Wendell Berry's poetry in someone new or give joy to the fan.

This particular poem portrays precisely what I think and feel when the woods welcomes me. Often, God has gives me a lens to see simple beauty. For that, I am thankful.

Poem do not raise your voice.
Be a whisper that says, "There!"
where the stream speaks to itself
of the deep rock of the hill
it has craved it's way down to
in flowing over them, "There!"
where the sun enters and the tanager
flares suddenly on the lighted branch
"There!" Where the ariel columbine
brightens on its slender stalk
Walk, poem. Watch and make no noise.

-WB

End of a storm

2009-11-15T15:27:00.000-08:00

Sophie, my canine companion, and I lumbered along Ferndale's backroads in a ferocious hail storm- with our hearts set on the beach. I needed to drink in some salty air and hunt for crabs. My feet were tired. My mind was busy remembering if I gave the crazy lady her sugar free, decaf, hazelnut, nonfat, extra flavor, soy latte.

Then, the storm broke.

A new, old home.

2009-10-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

I am living at home, with my parents.
I got a new job serving coffee.
I am making my own adventures.
I am loving my friends and family.

My life is unglamorous, simple and beautiful.

I couldn't be happier. Except that one moment of that one day which sneaks up on me and says, "what are you doing, you lazy underachiever?! Why aren't you moving forward, studying for high ed., getting a better job?"

I am killing the voice, with good food, long walks, naps, and great literature.

Life review, lit review.

2009-09-30T23:10:00.000-07:00

I love being home because now I am going to school in a classroom of whatever I need to study- salmon fishing, mushroom hunting, berry picking, house painting, baby playing, cider pressing, and book reading.

I should have majored in literature. I crave words.

I read Jane Eyre. At first I hated her. She nestled like a meek bird next to the mighty Mr. Rochester- never questioning, ever content. Then, he shocked, mortified, and embarrassed her and I felt relieved. When her strength was unmasked and unleashed, I fell in love with her.

Selfishly I love her because she reminds me of me.

Oh, Jane, you crazy fool. I wish my vocabulary and passion was as eloquent as yours.

Foooooood!

2009-08-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

I am becoming more and more aware that the things I put in my body actually help or harm me. What a concept!!
I ran across this article on Alternet- about the 7 most grotesque foods. Some of these are appalling! It is amazing what we eat.

Also, today I bought a new book that I am already devouring (food pun, haha). It is a new book by Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma. The newby is called In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto.

No I am not worried about getting fat but I am worried about cancer, general health, and being good to something that has to last me a long time, well hopefully.

Here is a helpful interview with Pollan by Democracy Now.

CIA terrorized the terrorists

2009-08-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

NPR posted this headliner today at npr.com.

White House To Oversee New Interrogation Team
by Dina Temple-Raston

Due to pressure from Democratic parties over certain cases Bush dismissed, "the Obama administration stripped the CIA of its lead role in debriefing terrorism suspects, announcing that it will create a new office overseen by the White House to run all future interrogations."

This was due to the terrorist methods the CIA was reported to have used, such as waterboarding and mock execution trials.

The new High-Value Detainee Interrogation Group will be managed by the FBI.

Because I agree with many of the Obama's policies I, for the moment feel interested in this change of power. However, now interrogation is in control of the White House and therefore the President. The constant raise and rise of unchecked presidental power makes me nervous.

James Madison would not be happy for the lack of competeing interests, however he did demonstrate a great deal of optimism for elected leadership.

Obama hails Mideast peace progress

2009-08-23T15:53:00.001-07:00

I thought this was an interesting article written by Josh Gerstein - POLITICO.com.

Obama hails Mideast peace progress - Josh Gerstein - POLITICO.com

It is especially interesting having recently become acquainted with Nabeel Jabbour who received his PH.D. in Islamic studies. His book, which I am currently reading, titled, The Crescent Through the Eyes of the Cross, is an exceptionally thoughtful and provoking book about Muslim and Christian relations.

In his lecture I attended this morning in Colorado, Jabbour painted a different story then the one told in this article about relationship between Egypt and American. Furthermore, Obama's continued direction back towards Muslims and Muslim nations lack of engagement with Israel is unsettling at the very least. Jabbour and some of his close Muslim friends raise good questions about America's relationship with Egypt, many see the Egyptian president as been a neocolonial puppet of America.

The other part I am becoming more aware about when thinking about foreign policy in the middle east is this: often times for Muslims it is difficult to separate Christianity, Western ideology, and democracy. The imposition of democracy often feels like the force of Christendom which brings the fears of the Crusades (which do not feel so long ago, especially in light of Iraq).

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Readers share the wealth

2009-08-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

Greetings book worms-

I know most of you have been snuggling in the sun devouring words all summer.
I need some new readings but I don't want just anything.
I want real books, read books, loved books.

What are books that have changed your life?

Theology? Trashy melodramas? Nonfiction? Sci-fi?

Let me have it. The crazier the better.

Equivocation

2009-08-20T13:40:00.000-07:00

"Why me?" spoke William Shakespeare.

The were the first words of Bill Cain's new play, "Equivocation", which I had the privilege of viewing this past week at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, OR with the Sittser family.

The play's first scene opened upon early in the year 1606, and the middle-aged artist is living in fame, having written histories,comedies, and tragedies for the English royalty and commoner. But the man who has summoned him, Robert Cecil, Secretary of State for the Kingdom of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales under James I, offers Shakespeare an offer he literally can't refuse.

Lord Cecil, who is akin to a Prime Minister to James, is putting the heat on "Shag" he and His Majesty want him to put off writing the next Globe Theater production and write a new play about "The Gunpowder Plot." This was the Catholic Plot to blow up the kings and his lords as they sat in London's Parliament. But "Shag" (Shakespeare) doesn't want to write such a play. It was normally forbidden in Tudor/Stuart England to write about current events. He wants to play it safe and let someone else do the treacherous work.

But there are plenty of empty cells in the Tower of London for reluctant playwrights who refuse a royal demand. So, rather than a stretch on the rack and a cold cell, Will takes Cecil's money and goes back to the company--headed by his friend and partner, Richard Burbage and thus commences to write and later rehearse the "official story" of the "guilty" men who stand in the Tower for treason.

As Shakespeare goes about trying to work out the King's outline of the play, he starts finding inconsistencies and implausibilities. Cecil won't supply him with reasonable answers on how the act of terrorism was supposed to be carried out.

Shakespeare becomes an investigator, convincing Cecil to let him talk to some of the conspirators who await execution in the Tower. He begins to see there maybe a counter-narrative to the official story.

"Equivocation" is a play that anyone interested in Jacobean history and power politics would love. The relevancy of political torture is haunting, giving the issues of torture by "good" governments and questions about terrorism in our own times.

Judith is as wickedly clever, and adds a lot of much needed humor in the play by her witty soliloquies, but her very presence haunts her father at times: she is the twin of his only dead son, Hamnet. The loss of his son has made him more willing to reach out to those who are in pain--such as a young man who was caught by Cecil's men and is being tortured to tell all of what apparently littlehe really knows.

Another man, the Catholic Priest Garnet, gives the complex play its equally complex title, Equivocation. From the theological perspective Garnet gives, equivocation relates to how one answers questions. Do you tell the "truth" and give a straight forward yes or no? Or do you try to figure out what the actual question is? What lies beneath a question? If a man asks for a person in hiding in order to kill them, and you stand at the door in the position to answer yes or no-- what is the right answer? Better yet what is the man with the intent to murder actually asking? Therefore- is yes the truthful answer? Or not?

This play has won The Edgerton Foundation 2008 New American Plays Award and will have more stagings in Seattle and San Francisco apparently next year. I hope many people who love a good intriguing bit of off-beat history will get a chance to see this superb layered work filled with complexities, wit and cleverness.

The Tipping Point

2009-08-06T09:38:00.000-07:00

I have been reading an interesting book on human behavior, called The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make A Big Difference by Malcolm Gladwell. Gladwell is a New Yorker writer who is trying to answer the question of, why do major changes in our society so often happen suddenly and unexpectedly. These changes could be anything from ideas, behavior, messages, and products which seems to spread like outbreaks of disease. These are social epidemics which when they take off, is called the Tipping Point.

Gladwell describes the "three rules of epidemics" in the tipping points of epidemics.
The most interesting rule was the first one, the Law of the Few.

"The Law of the Few", or, as Gladwell states, "The success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social gifts."

Read through this descriptions- it is fascinating to see who you think of and to see where you fit. However, I do think this list is limiting and we are all so connected it is difficult for me to imagine some people are "more importantly connected" then others. Nevertheless, some are more relational and more integrated into communities then others. I think that is the way we are hardwired.

Connectors are the people who "link us up with the world ... people with a special gift for bringing the world together." They are "a handful of people with a truly extraordinary knack [... for] making friends and acquaintances".
I think that I have a certain connector quality to me but there are several other people who instantly popped into my head when I read about Connectors.

Mavens are "information specialists", or "people we rely upon to connect us with new information." They accumulate knowledge, especially about the marketplace, and know how to share it with others. According to Gladwell, Mavens start "word-of-mouth epidemics" due to their knowledge, social skills, and ability to communicate.
Professors, I've had struck me at this point. People who want to spread their knowledge and connect us with new insights.

Salesmen are "persuaders", charismatic people with powerful negotiation skills. They tend to have an indefinable trait that goes beyond what they say, which makes others want to agree with them.
Do you ever run into truly charismatic people who have a surging energy and you just want to be with them? This reminds me of salesmen. I think Gladwell's descriptions fall into step with economics but there are personalities of people I know who aren't selling but I find them so enjoyable.

2.)The Stickiness Factor: Gladwell describes as the specific content of a message that renders its impact memorable.

3.) The Power of Context: Human behavior is sensitive to and strongly influenced by its environment.

Theology of a Babysitter

2009-07-20T18:53:00.000-07:00

Wild curls flying, Caleb did his toddler gallop across the grass to the road because he spotted a hoppy (bunny). Tearing after him, I dropped the phone, his twin sister, and a sippy cup. I caught a nasty 'you are a bad babysitter' look from a driver but no physical harm done. Scared the living crap out of me. I continued pushing the small muffins on 'big kid' swings at the park, thinking to myself, I am not ready for this. Not at all.

Carissa insisted on pushing her brother in the jogger up the hill on the way home from the park. She would scream if I tried to help even though she wasn't strong enough. Then, I had an awkward realization. I am often like Carissa, stubborn and insistent on doing things my way.

I want to be independent, sure and confident, even when I shouldn't be. I wonder if God has similar thoughts as I did this afternoon. Such as, I will secretly hold on to the jogger so Carissa won't see me. I will help her but she will think she is doing it herself. God guides my ridiculous, double wide jogger also, as I stubbornly push it up a hill.

'I can do it' and 'pick me up' are Carissa's famous sayings to me.
Those are my famous sayings as well.

"I can do it, God."

"God, will you hold me?"

Or as Caleb likes to say, "Telli, hold you, peez." We are working on our pronouns.

Funny how we are so similar the two year olds and I.

Future baby theology article: Spreading the Poo. Read more about these wild monkeys at The Kintner Clan.

Man On A Wire

2009-07-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

Another good flick-

Man On A Wire by Magnolia Pictures.

French man commits the artistic crime of the century.

This modern day heist is interesting and well documented. Not a thriller but artfully done. If you like documentaries then you should see it but I bet you already have.

I've loved you so long.

2009-07-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

This summer I am making an effort to find good books and even more of an effort to find and watch good movies. I like artists who know humanity well and off interesting ways of communicating life to their audiences.

A particular favorite I have stumbled across is a beautiful French film called, I've Loved You So Long.
European Film awards gave Kristin Scott Thomas the Best Actress award last year, 2008. She gives a stunning performance as Juliette, a prisoner for 15 years who was recently released. The film's portrayal of life after prison gives the audience a glimpse into the complications of justice and righteousness. The female relationships between mother and daughter and Juliette and her sister, Lea, are memorable in their gravity of suffering and betrayal.

The uneasiness of the plot line helps drive the film. With no huge special effects, props or stunts, the simplicity of the camera is refreshing and real. The same goes for character development, which becomes breathtaking and masterfully redemptive.

I loved it.

Click here to watch the trailer.

My 2nd Favorite State

2009-06-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

Update:

I love Colorado. Colorado Springs is a bit fundamental and fast foody for me- but driving up across the pass into the western side of the mountains looking down on the city gave me new found love.

My internship at Covenant Pres Church is wonderful! I have so much freedom to explore and talk to a huge variety of people- pastors, other directors and forms of ministries across the city. It has been such a gift. This church is one of the most vibrant, healthy churches I have ever been apart of. They have made me feel at home and after only a few weeks I know I am loved and belong.

I am hiking Mt. Humbolt on Thursday with some friends and will post pictures soon.

I am filled with peace. It has been a long time.

Home, home on the range

2009-06-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

Leaving a new sailboat, great food, gardening, my great parents and story telling baby sister, left me feeling anxious and worried about my move to Colorado Springs. I didn't know what to expect, what I would be doing, who I would spend time with, or what sort of community would be waiting.

Worries aside dear friends!

I LOVE COLORADO! I was also afraid of this- Washington friends, I am never return. The Rockies are breath taking. The prairie gives me room to breathe. The birds are more than I can count. The wildflowers ares stunning. I have been hiking every day (yes, all three days) with Jasper the friendly dog.
Yesterday, Jasper found marmots in the rocks and was digging at them for a good hour. Finally, anxious to get home before the thundercloud above unleashed it's daily afternoon wrath, I grabbed Jasper just in time to hear pitiful marmot squeaks which seemed to welcome my role of salvation in the small rodent's life.

I tried to upload my pictures but I grabbed the wrong camera converter from home- until another day. I am going to meet my new host family tonight and play with twin babies.

Thank you for your prayers and thoughts. This is where I am suppose to be and it feels right. We will see what summer brings... but I am not worried.

I also started reading N.T. Wright's Simply Christian. Gpa, I hate to say this but it may actually be 'better' than Mere Christianity. Well, at least worth a few reads. Thank you Gma for the birthday gift. I especially appreciated Wright's intro on justice which I believe is an excellent approach in articulating God's will in connection with humanity's desire for things to be right.

Fresh air

2009-06-02T22:22:00.000-07:00

I was tired of viewing my lame posting of Hilde, so even though I have nothing profound to say, I thought an update might be helpful.

I graduated. It was a wonderful weekend because full of sun and family. The Graduation Ceremony itself was mostly bored, kind of a waste of time. However, I think Americans have gotten rid of so many traditions,it might be good to hang on to a few.

I am now home enjoying the warmth of late May before the Juney Whatcom County rains come. Every year with out fail, June greats us with wetness. May is always brighter than June gloom.

You can read my daily life by elbow inspection, dark gray from last week's body house paint with a lighter gray deck stain on top from the current house painting excitement. Tomorrow will add a brilliant white around the edges for a nice contrast of trim work.

No, I have not joined the army. The gas mask is to save my lungs after spraying so much paint. I am grateful to Greg for giving me paint jobs so I can go on grand adventures to Colorado. What a gift. When I take off the painting mask I can actually smell the sweetness of the air. I guess we have to live without beauty to enjoy it more fully. God keeps yelling that at me.

I am so grateful for clean air, good food, a wonderful family, best friends, and trees.
Mostly I am thankful to know God. He is with us. Thanks God for hot, stifling, sweaty masks that save us from poison and help us be grateful.

Hildegard of Bingen

2009-04-26T23:17:00.000-07:00

Gregorian chants are my new late night study music. On Pandora Radio, the most beautiful composition appeared written by Hildegard of Bingen.

This bio, from the Pandora website helps illustrate the most interesting woman I have ever heard of.

In the summer of 1098, a child was born to noble parents in Bermersheim, near Alzey, in modern-day Rheinhessen, and was christened Hildegard. By her own account, she was having visions at the age of five; her parents placed her in the care of a small nunnery when she was eight. Over an 81-year life-span, this remarkable woman would go on to lead the Abbey at Disibodenberg, and found two further convents of her own; she wrote three major theological works and a number of shorter treatises on natural history, herbalism, and healing, as well as the first surviving morality play and a large number of hymns and sequences.

Her correspondence gave counsel and advice to many of the most prominent figures of her time, even to Frederick Barbarossa himself. She performed healings and a celebrated exorcism, and -- an extremely rare privilege for a woman -- took several officially sanctioned public preaching tours.

Can you imagine this person's life as a woman in the church, traveling, speaking, writing theology in the 12th century? Whoa.

I would like to name a cat name after her some day which is really saying something because I don't like cats.

appearing of God

2009-04-12T00:20:00.000-07:00

Karl Barth- Epistle to the Romans

"The Resurrection is the revelation: the disclosing of Jesus as the Christ, the appearing of God, and the apprehending of God in Jesus. The Resurrection is the emergence of the necessity of giving glory to God: the reckoning with what is unknown and unobservable in Jesus, the recognition of Him as Paradox, Victor and Primal History. In the Resurrection the new world of the Holy Spirit touches the old world of the flesh, but touches it as a tangent touches a circle, that is, without touching it. And, precisely because it does not touch it, it touches it as its frontier — as the new world."

Teaching, teaching.

2009-04-03T13:14:00.000-07:00

At Whitworth University, there are so many buzz words as we seniors start planning for our futures. Planning for the future, could you even call it that? One of my favorite words is "Calling". A calling- what does that mean? Something God calls you to do and you in turn are obedient to His call. Unless God is shouting at me with a megaphone and I am too dense to hear, it is difficult to "figure out" what and where I need to be moving to be obedient to God's call in my life.

A few things have helped me thus far.

Myself. Why do we read Nietzsche, Freud, Socrates? Why do we go to school to become educated? We read to see ultimately if the great philosophers, authors, theologians, know us better than we know ourselves. Self discovery has been my college experience and knowing your talents, gifts, as well as passions and interests help determine how you should be using them.

Community. Similar to intelligent writers and thinkers, my dear family and friends know me well. They know my flaws and failures as well as my gifts. I expect them to guide and challenge me through the murkiness of my early twenties.

The Holy Spirit. I pray. I pray for guidance and guardianship.

The balance of: What do I want to do? What do I get to do? What do I have to do? What should I do?

Although clarity does not always present itself the way I wish it to; with what I have before me on the table now, I have been told and realized that the desire to teach can not be beaten out of me.

What sort, place, facet will this take?

I have no idea.

A Polish Poet

2009-03-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

Forget by Czelow Milosz

Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.

Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask,who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.

The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.

The Lemurs of Duke

2009-03-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

After missing a phone call a few hours before, I called my mom back to see what was happening.

Momi: Kelli, kelli, guess what!?! I have the best news.

Me: What, Mom? You know I can't possibly guess.

Momi: I was reading the greatest article today in the Christian Science Monitor. Do you know where Madagascar is?

Me: Yeah...

Momi: Do you know that Madagascar is the only place lemurs live in the wild?

Me: Yeah...

Momi: Do you know what a lemur is?

Me: Yeah...

Momi: Well, there is a large conservation of lemurs, the largest outside of Madagascar, in the world, and it's here in the United States!!!

Me: That's exciting.

Momi: Guess where.. guess where it is.

Me: Spokane? (Knowing the possibility of lemur research among Spokanites has about the same probability as my mom getting a spider tattoo on her neck)

Momi: No.. North Carolina. IT'S AT DUKE, KELLI!!! IN THE DUKE FOREST LIVE THE LEMURS!!!

Me: Hahaha

Momi: It's open to the public, you can get tours.

Me: I'll have to go do that.

Momi: I hope you live there some day so Greg and I can come visit the lemurs. And there is a website.. are you listening? Here it is... http;//

Me: Mom, I'll just google it. I love you. Lemurs here I come.

Duke Lemur Center - aka DLC

The Duke Lemur Blog

Melting snow

2009-03-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

The wind howled and the rain poured today in Spokane. The snow is being mastered by the warmth, I couldn't be happier.
Breaths of warm fresh air seem to be finally blowing my way.

Summer was fiery. Fall was stormy. Winter was cold.

Spring.

This is what I have been waiting for. Time of renewal, change, and growth.
The fact that Lent falls in the spring time is only a coincidence for us in the Northern hemisphere. Yet, my mind immediately goes to the new found sunlight and freshness of the earth as parallelling the resurrection.

Lent is not simply about the resurrection, temptation and death came first. I often forget that to be resurrected you must first die. There must be winter to transform into spring.

My beloved grandma shipped my the most challenging book to read for the season of Lent. It's called, Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter. An array of the best theologians and Christian writers fill the pages with encouragement and biting insight. I have been sifting through the book inspired by what the writers chose to share. The selections are grouped around themes beginning with temptation, crucifixion, resurrection and new life. I am dipping into as I find time. Even in my dipping, it has been nothing but a gift as I begin to think what this Lent season holds true for me this year and true for me in eternity.

Lent is an opportunity, not a requirement.

Country of Marriage: Poem

2009-03-07T12:10:00.001-08:00

I don't know why but I keep reading this poem. A friend showed it to me at the beginning of the summer. I posted a piece of it earlier but why have a piece of a story when you can have the whole thing?

Part III reminds me of my grandparents.

The Country Of Marriage

I.

I dream of you walking at night along the streams
of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs
of birds opening around you as you walk.
You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.

II.

This comes after silence. Was it something I said
that bound me to you, some mere promise
or, worse, the fear of loneliness and death?
A man lost in the woods in the dark, I stood
still and said nothing. And then there rose in me,
like the earth's empowering brew rising
in root and branch, the words of a dream of you
I did not know I had dreamed. I was a wanderer
who feels the solace of his native land
under his feet again and moving in his blood.
I went on, blind and faithful. Where I stepped
my track was there to steady me. It was no abyss
that lay before me, but only the level ground.

III.

Sometimes our life reminds me
of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark, its ways
to be made anew day after day, the dark
richer than the light and more blessed,
provided we stay brave
enough to keep on going in.

IV.

How many times have I come to you out of my head
with joy, if ever a man was,
for to approach you I have given up the light
and all directions. I come to you
lost, wholly trusting as a man who goes
into the forest unarmed. It is as though I descend
slowly earthward out of the air. I rest in peace
in you, when I arrive at last.

V.

Our bond is no little economy based on the exchange
of my love and work for yours, so much for so much
of an expendable fund. We don't know what its limits are--
that puts us in the dark. We are more together
than we know, how else could we keep on discovering
we are more together than we thought?
You are the known way leading always to the unknown,
and you are the known place to which the unknown is always
leading me back. More blessed in you than I know,
I possess nothing worthy to give you, nothing
not belittled by my saying that I possess it.
Even an hour of love is a moral predicament, a blessing
a man may be hard up to be worthy of. He can only
accept it, as a plant accepts from all the bounty of the light
enough to live, and then accepts the dark,
passing unencumbered back to the earth, as I
have fallen tine and again from the great strength
of my desire, helpless, into your arms.

VI.

What I am learning to give you is my death
to set you free of me, and me from myself
into the dark and the new light. Like the water
of a deep stream, love is always too much. We
did not make it. Though we drink till we burst
we cannot have it all, or want it all.
In its abundance it survives our thirst.
In the evening we come down to the shore
to drink our fill, and sleep, while it
flows through the regions of the dark.
It does not hold us, except we keep returning
to its rich waters thirsty. We enter,
willing to die, into the commonwealth of its joy.

VII.

I give you what is unbounded, passing from dark to dark,
containing darkness: a night of rain, an early morning.
I give you the life I have let live for the love of you:
a clump of orange-blooming weeds beside the road,
the young orchard waiting in the snow, our own life
that we have planted in the ground, as I
have planted mine in you. I give you my love for all
beautiful and honest women that you gather to yourself
again and again, and satisfy--and this poem,
no more mine than any man's who has loved a woman.

Wendell Berry

As the Ruin Falls

2009-02-25T13:11:00.000-08:00

My mind is filled with race, policy, O.T. prophets, and Christian political thought so I don't want to talk about them when I don't want to. That, my friends, is the explaination and justification for my recent poetry kick. This is one of my very favorites because it speaks of human depravity eloquently and truthfully. Would we expect any less from C.S. Lewis?

As the Ruin Falls
C.S. Lewis

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love - a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek -
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

Kindness

2009-02-23T13:07:00.000-08:00

A good friend sent me my poem of the day. It was selfish not to share.

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

Naomi Shihab Nye

To my mother

2009-02-15T22:06:00.000-08:00

We, ornery women, all of great fears about turning into our mothers. Will be carry their burdens? Do we even have a choice but to obtain their mannerisms? How much is pre-determined by spending our impressionable years in their presence?

I look like my mom. We have the same face shape and skin color. We have the same gray eyes and soft brown hair. Our eyes both sparkle when we are joyful, which is more often than not. She is more patient. I am a better dancer, except if you understand better to mean hilarious, then she wins.

In one of my favorite films, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, there is a beautiful song called "Down To The River To Pray", played by Allison Krauss. The song, especially the harmony and soft "ooo"ing in the background, reminds me of my mother, a lover of song and silliness.
When we play board games she is constantly humming like a songbird, sounds lovely? Well, it is difficult when you are trying to think. She can even distract herself and blames the songs in head for her inability to see diagonals on the board.

She taught me how to read music, how to sing, and how to pray.

Simply, honestly, and sweetly.

"Down To The River To Pray"

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way!

O sisters let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sisters let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the robe & crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O mothers let's go down
Come on down, don't you wanna go down?
Come on mothers, let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studding about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O sinners, let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sinners, let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the robe and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

laughter

2009-02-12T17:29:00.000-08:00

After a ridiculous assignment from the last gen ed course I will ever take, (well now that I write that I realize that is probably not a true statement)my friends and I unwound together as we talked about funny songs, pranks we wish we would do, and the general hilariousness of life. Needless to say, the medicine of a belly chuckle can cure the pains from any amount of studying and a poorly written essay.

Walter de la Mare, (1873-1956)

Hearts that too wildly beat,
Brief is their epitaph.
Wisdom is in the wheat
Not in the chaff.
But, oh, my dear, how rich and rare
And root-down deep and wild and sweet
It is to laugh.

"I love Jesus but I drink a little."

2009-02-10T23:15:00.000-08:00

Gladys Hardy, ladies and gentlemen.

The Mantra

2009-02-08T21:22:00.000-08:00

In light of my sister's recent and correct observation, I have not been following my New Year's resolution very well.

Calming the ___ down.

So her advice was-- remember the mantra.

Repeat.

Repeat again.

Good job.

In ode to her unabashed desire to smash the mopey depression out of me, I present some humor. On the drive up to my house in a standard Washington state small town, there is a Lutheran church (nothing against the denomination) with equally hilarious "inspirations". Far too often the signs are sad depictions of bad theology. We have to laugh or else we will cry.

Church Signs

2009-02-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

Loving alone

2009-02-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

Laying on my floor last night, headphones on, wool socks to my knees, I listened to honest music. Honest music is my favorite kind but so often it deals with love. Lately love has struck a painful cord for me, for personal and impersonal reasons. Yet, now that I write that, how can love ever be impersonal?

Being in a small Christian community and entering the 'ring in spring' season of life as a female senior, the possibility of earning my Mrs. degree doesn't look to good. People have told me there is still hope. "Good to know there is still hope for me," I sarcastically reply. If there isn't 'hope' for a 22 year old we might as well all give up now. Three recent conversations with wonderful friends have caused me to call into question the disdain and fear of singleness.

Rilke, a German poetry who speaks powerfully and honestly has given me not only hope but a helpful perspective on young love. A year ago I would have called him a tainted cynic. Now? As the hopeless romantic, which I find impossible to beat out of myself, I better understand the complexity and hard work of loving another person, at all levels of intimacy.

"It is good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely perpetration

This is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love; it is something they must learn with their whole being, with all their forces gathered around there solitary, anxious, upward beating heart. They must learn to love.

But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving, for a long long time ahead and far into life, is: solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished and still incoherent?).

Instead it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become a world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances. Only in this sense, as the task of working on themselves, may young people use the love that is given to them.

Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them, who must still for a long long time, save and gather themselves. Love is the ultimate task, is perhaps that for which human lives are, as yet, barely large enough."

- Rainer Rilke- May 1904 Letters to a Young Poet

My question then, is this... when are we ever ready?

Nimble spirituality

2009-02-03T21:14:00.000-08:00

All trying to remain on the path, loyal to where we should go and what we should do, we often become burdened by our own inability to let God be God. When I say we, I speak of myself.

Nimble spirituality- to walk in strength and honesty, boldly not cautiously, thoughtfully, not savagely. The path between being too human and being too righteous is precarious and slender.

Where will I be in four months? Where will I go? I want to see the route before me. I want to be in control. Too often I feel the force of fear fetter my feet.

The grit on the track by Luci Shaw

The ground is always there, witnessing
how you walk. You need light to travel
a dark path, and you need to travel light.
Otherwise the shadows that turn out to be
submerged boulders and roots will trip you,
and your heavy pack will bear you down
into the hard anguish of gravel that is more
than your knees can bear. Even roadside dust
clings to your heels as if God is in
every fiber, a kind of mineral truth
present in every crystal of sand.

Gravity, and the possibility of falling,
will keep you aware. In the twilight you
come home from walking the dog in the woods
with the walk still clinging to you -- twigs
and the stain of berries on your soles.
Each humus clod from the forest floor
answers back -- another footfall. This is all
my handwork, he is saying. Stay with this mud,
this granite. Every other step you take
will be a revelation.

Three weeks later...

2009-01-29T05:16:00.000-08:00

Apologies, apologies to my faithful followers (my sisters, aunt, and grandparents). I have several lame excuses for my internet absence. If you want to hear them by all means continue reading but if not, I understand.

Lame reasons:

1.) The internet.
Connections were few and far between with an extremely slow processor which never once to even succeed in uploading this website, apparently it is not as well viewed as gmail or yahoo. The internet cafes were small crowded rooms full of wazungu (white people) yelling and cursing because the Whitworth e-mail failed to send messages.

2.) I was sick.
Failing to pull my increasingly long hair back before running once more to the choo (squatting hole, not toilet, my breakfast of chapati, pineapple, and mango managed to reappear once more on my face and hair. (Proceed with caution) Then, I literally laid on the barnyard of my host family, tied up the locks and squatted over the same hole because apparently one end was not enough.
I was either constipated, throwing up, or had diarrhea for the first two and a half weeks. These last few days have been much better-- lucky for everyone on the plane.

We still don't know what I had but new bacteria and I are not friends. Yes, I took lots of Cipro (which kills all bacteria, good and bad) but might have added to the problem when I needed the good bacteria back to digest the endless plates of bananas.

3.) I didn't want to write.
My goal this trip was to be as present as possible. As I flew out of the Seatac airport I almost started crying because a missed all the people I was leaving behind. Then I said to myself, "Self, grow up. You have done plenty of crying the past few months. Get a hold of your self."

As the one of the only students already been to East Africa and the only person besides my professor who had been to the country, I knew that my attitude, energy, and enthusiasm for really difficult, draining situations would be needed and expected. Exhausted from living and traveling with so many other female students, I am delighted to be home, grateful for the experience, frustrated at some of the outcomes and ignorance, but excited to be starting my last semester of school (last semester? for the time being).

Thank you for being patient with my lack of correspondence. It is really early on West Coast time since my body thinks it is 4:30pm on Thursday, so good morning and have a wonderful day.

I am looking forward to a vanilla latte, good cheese, and a huge salad (with lettuce!) but will miss the perfectly ripened breakfast fruit feast.

Now that I am home I would love to share some stories but if you have specific questions, that would help me get my tired brain started.

Jambo.

2009-01-07T07:39:00.000-08:00

Made it!

It was so hot here today, 93 degrees. I have bad jet lag and not much time on the computer so highlights.

Rode a camel.
Went to a snake museum and put one around my neck.
Slept pretty well on the plane.

I am so grateful to be on this trip but what a bizarre transition from Washington and then back again.

Tomorrow we are working in the orphanages. I am so looking forward to doing something active.

There was goat fur on my lunch today- you never know what to expect. The group of students is wonderful, I already have met several new friends.

Love to all of you. Thank you for your prayers. I am well.

A Secret Day

2009-01-05T00:05:00.000-08:00

Sometimes my mom hates getting up to go to work, and my step dad tells her, "Okay hun, you can have a bonus minute this morning." With the gift of a justified excuse, she relaxes back under the warmth of her bed.

Today, I realized I had read my itinerary wrong, my flight leaves tomorrow morning. I got not a bonus minute but a whole bonus day.

So what did I do on my secret day?

Spent it with people, played games, watched movies, ate chocolate, drank tea, slept in.

I also realized today that even as time rolls out before us, we have to continue living in the joy of the day, of every day.

In my spontaneous adventurous self, I can embrace change but I hate saying good bye. I miss my friends who have left, we are leaving, who I will leave.

Not just for the month but for life. Our choices can pull us apart and bring us back together. I am not afraid of being alone but can think of many things (all things) I would rather do with the one I love.

What a strange time it is.

Leaving on a jet plane...

2009-01-03T20:48:00.000-08:00

..don't know when I'll be back again.

Dear fam and friends,

Tomorrow in the AM, I will be in Tanzania for the month of Jan. I will check my gmail account at kelli.christianson@gmail.com as much as I can. I will also try to update my blog but have no idea what internet opportunities I will have.

Thanks for reading.

Love,
Kelli

My resolutions; lead on.

2009-01-02T23:07:00.000-08:00

New Year's resolutions in no particular order:

Warning! My four resolutions do not include getting married, but being that I have a hundred weddings to attend this spring and summer, my resolutions happen to be..

One borrowed, one blue, one old, and one new.

1.) Be bold. (Thanks friend for letting me share this one with you.)

2.) Calm the ___ down. (Given by my sister, censored for all viewers.)

3.) Let it go.

4.) Be patient.

He leads us on by paths we did not know;
Upward He leads us, though our steps be slow,
Though oft we faint and falter on the way,
Though storms and darkness oft obscure the day;
Yet when the clouds are gone,
We know He leads us on.

He leads us on through all the unquiet years;
Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts and fears,
He guides our steps, through all the tangled maze
Of losses, sorrows, and o'er clouded days;
We know His will is done;
And still He leads us on.

Nicholaus Ludwig Zinzendorf

Simplicity of 300 Things

2008-12-30T21:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to a strange mumbojumbo of materialism.

First off, I was making a list to pack only the essentials for a quickly approaching excursion to a different continent. Trying to keep it simple, I made a ridiculously long two page list which included tweezers, hand sanitizer, and an empty pillow case. Do I even need those things? I have no idea.

Which got me thinking-- What do we need to live on and what would simplify our life? So much of our goings and coming has to do with details about this or that.. Get this, pick up that. Go to the store to get a new toothbrush because your sister's dog ate your other sister's boyfriend's toothbrush (I wish I was making this up). The best part about this story is that my mom usually gets the small puppy's and the boyfriend's singular syllable names mixed up. Good thing they are both young, happy, and not easily discouraged.

Anyways, simplicity. What do you think about it? Thoreau had some beautiful thoughts about it.

"Let us consider the way in which we spend out lives."

and

"For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snowstorms and rainstorms, and did my duty faithfully, though I never received one cent for it."

I, too, wish for this job.

Yes! Magazine had a great article on a woman who keeps her entire amount of possessions to 300. 300!! Can you believe that? What would your 300 things be? Think of how much you would get rid of. You can read the article, Living Large in a Tiny House by Carol Estes at Yes! Magazine online.

I feel inspired to run upstairs and toss all my knick knacks and pattywacks out the window. However, then they will hit the chickens which could be scary and frightening for all. Maybe, instead, I will go eat the chocolate cake my sister just made.

Doubt, the beginning of faith

2008-12-27T21:13:00.000-08:00

Hopping in the car with my sisters and mom, we drove to the movie theater today to see a holiday flick, Doubt.

The film, originally designed for the stage by John Patrick Shanley, is set at a small Catholic school in the Bronx. The plot revolves around a nun (Meryl Streep) who becomes suspicious when Father Flynn(Philip Hoffman) takes notable interest in the life of a young African American boy. What is the truth? Is the relationship appropriate? Who is right, who is wrong? The nun's moral certainty is her sole reason for forcing the priest to confess or resign. In a struggle of wills amidst the confusion of deception and suspicion, the school's community awaits to see who will win.

Is the priest a manipulative con or a compassionate, patient man? The questions arising from this film are thoughtful and provocative. How do we know when things are wrong? What is certainty? Can we ever be certain? What is doubt? Is it always wrong? Is the world as black and white as we think it to be?

Do truth and doubt coexist?

I think they must and they do. Faith rises from doubt. When we stop doubting or at the very least, questioning, we run blindly into injustice.

Questions... remember to ask good questions.

On that note, I loved the film. The script is extremely tight because of it's origins as a play. Streep is an intense and believable character. Highly recommended if you can manage a slow beginning.

Doubt Trailer

shop. shop. shop?

2008-12-16T22:47:00.000-08:00

Not having written for ages, I was excited to make a post about an amazing shopping guide I found. But lo' and behold my blogging relative just posted about it today as well. Well, good news shouldn't wait so I shall write about it anyways.

Drum roll please.

Have you heard of The Better World: Shopping Guide by Ellis Jones?

This brilliant little handbook ranks a huge array of items from beer companies to gum makers, including gas and tampons manufacturers.

Jones has done his research well. He has ranked producing companies on certain issues including:

Human Rights (sweatshops, child labor, fair labor)

Environment (global warming, recycling, sustainable farming)

Animal Rights (animal habitat preservation, animal testing, ecosystem impact)

Community Involvement (volunteer efforts, political corruption)

Social Justice (lawsuits, gender or racial discrimination issues)

From A to F you can quickly learn the good guys from the bad guys. I love this book- what an amazingly practical and beautiful way to shop. Thanks Ellis for doing thousands of hours of research for all of us.

Go to www.thebetterworldshopper.org for the rankings.

This Road

2008-11-26T19:36:00.001-08:00

A dear friend wrote down this song for me last year. The words ring as true today as they were then.

This Road

All heavy laden acquainted with sorrow
May Christ in our marrow carry us home
From alabaster come blessings of laughter
A fragrance of passion and joy from the truth

Grant the unbroken tears ever flowing
From hearts of contrition only for You
May sin never hold true that love never broke through
For God's mercy holds us and we are His own

This road that we travel may it be the straight and narrow
God, give us peace and grace from You, all the day
Shelter with fire, our voices we raise still higher
God, give us peace and grace from You, all the day through

This road that we travel may it be the straight and narrow
God, give us peace and grace from You, all the day
Shelter with fire, our voices we raise still higher
God, give us peace and grace from You, all the day through

Jars of Clay

The Wisdom of Albus Dumbledore

2008-11-25T21:41:00.000-08:00

Looking for comfort, memories, simplicity, or maybe just a good adventure, I found myself curled up in front of the iron stove with tea and Harry Potter for the second Thanksgiving in a row.

I must have been searching for an answer to the unrelenting craziness in my mind and heart these past few months because this is what I read.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was decending again, obscuring his figure.
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

Credo

2008-11-22T13:42:00.000-08:00

Returning home for college break, I am seeking just that- a break. But then I realized late last night that low and behold, I will never get a break from myself, from ideas, from important issues and understanding, from challenges and hardships. That is simply life. So, instead of running away I am choosing to turn and face issues that will probably forever probe my heart in pursuit of truth and honestly.

Looking for something simple and soft to chew on. I picked up a book at home called Credo. My interest in theology, ethics, and politics will never leave me alone. Expecting much growth, I pray that it never will.

An activist Yale chaplain was added to my list of thoughtful, intelligent thinkers as I sifted through this book, Credo. Rev. William Sloane Coffin was an interesting man who died April 2006. His collection of sermon experts, quotes, and musings has stirred once more my passion for social justice, faith, love, civil liberties and truth (in no particular order and not assuming these concepts are mutually exclusive).

Three of my immediate favorites, I am sure I will post more:

"I love the recklessness of faith. First you leap, then you grow wings."

"How do you love America? Don't say, "My country, right or wrong." That's like saying, "My grandmother, drunk or sober": it doesn't get you anywhere. Don't just salute the flag. Don't burn it either. Wash it. Make it clean.

"There are three kinds of patriots, two bad and one good. The bad ones are the uncritical lovers and the loveless critics. Good patriots carry on a lover's quarrel with their country, a reflection of God's lover's quarrel with the world."

I encourage all looking for a challenge to their own understandings of the American nation from any faith background to flip through Credo and tell me what you think.

Whether you agree or not, we desperately need his voice.

How do I speak?

2008-11-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

The differences, definitions, and diversity of conflicting and meshing worldviews continues to challenge all of our positions and postures we take in life. Or so it should. While abstracting chapters for an elaborate collection of works on the role and status- legal and otherwise- of women around the world, from my International Reader of Global Critical Race Feminism, I came across and interesting point.
The author of this particular article on Female Infanticide in China, Sharon K. Hom, raises an important question for writers and non-writers alike.

"How do I speak? In what capacity and with whose proxy?" To communicate well we have to understand ourselves, who we are and where we come from, what we are capable of and what we have experienced.

So... How do you speak?

I speak as an American citizen, as a young Caucasian female, as a university student, and as a Christian.

Keely and Du: Battle of Abortion

2008-11-18T12:51:00.000-08:00

The tension of reconciliation, choices, rights, and life in my own heart and experiences reverberated dramatically when I went to my college to see a staged reading of Jane Martin's passionate and paranoid thriller Keely & Du,
Keely, a pregnant working-class woman in her second trimester, is taken captive by bumbling members of the scurrilous "Christian" organization Operation Retrieval. (similar to the real life platform of Operation Rescue who are taking direct action to restore legal personhood to the pre-born and stop abortion in obedience to biblical mandates,) In the play, Operation Retrieval's agenda is to forcibly prevent women from aborting their pregnancies by denying them access to the outside world. Du, portrayed as an older women, and Walter, the controlling pastor, are her captors, whose actions are all the more infamous as they knowingly force Keely to nurture a fetus which came about through forced marital rape. Keely and Du develop a porous love-hate relationship, with each tiptoeing toward mutual empathy, challenging the various tactics to change Keely's mind.
Is the play actually about abortion? It seems to be on the surface but as the characters develop one begins to understand the conflict of choice and the rise of power. Keely is not a Christian and is forced into a situation with no outlet. She has no choice and her frustration is evident and visible. She can not afford a child, let alone care of one born of her ex-husband who raped her.
I found myself in a bizarre juxtaposition with all the four major characters. I feel Keely's frustration as she lays trapped with no choice, no control, and no dignity. I connected with Du, who is also controlled by Walter in a strange relationship where she wants the best for Keely and the baby. Walter, as terrible as he is portrayed as the fundamentalist right, has good arguments and explanations for why Keely should change her mind and reconcile with her husband. Keely's husband, transformed by the fundamentalist group begs for forgiveness, Keely refuses. I, too have violently hurt those I love.

The play was gut wrenching because it proved so many questions with so few answers.

What is reconciliation from a biblical context? What form does it take? What is justice? What is grace?
Christ forgives with no first apology. Should we too? Should Keely place herself back into a relationship with an abusive man because divorce is wrong?

What is the limit of government? What is the role of government?

Hamster on a Piano

2008-11-11T23:46:00.000-08:00

With love from my dear sister to all of you who dare to watch.

The people who love me.

2008-11-10T22:47:00.000-08:00

Sitting in the coffee shop today on campus, I couldn't help but look around and see wonderfully familiar faces sipping lattes and enjoying life.

What did I do to deserve such wonderful friends?

Nothing. The fact is, I don't deserve them at all. Family either. Nope, don't deserve Grandmas writing weekly letters full of checks and cookies, praying endlessly over the phone with me, praying endlessly for me whether I can hear or not. For sisters soaking up sun in California- calling and making time in their busy schedules to check in and see how gloomy Spokane is doing. Gloomy as in Spokane-- not me, the gloomy, in the Spokane, even though I sometimes feel that way, especially with this rain.

For dads proudly calling about making it to state football games and step-dads discussing the Trinity and Grandpas debating the Trinity and Aunties who make pies and raise energy-filled children, bunnies, dogs, and goats. All who are always there to listen, love, and hold me. Me, a twenty-something year old student facing the inevitability of growing up.

But not alone. I do not deserve them.
I do not deserve late night drop-ins, early morning coffee, endless hours of listening ears from my friends who live their own painful, joyful lives. All the movie dates, I owe yous, walks and talks- thank you. Thank you for asking all the hard questions and receiving the even harder answers. Thank you for buying me beers and holding my hand.

As my friend told me today, "Christ has conquered. Glory fills you!" That is a good word. Good? Because it is true.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Prayer

2008-11-04T23:34:00.000-08:00

I am writing late at night so I don't forget this in the morning-

"To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world."

-Karl Barth.

Who Would Jesus Vote For?

2008-11-04T12:45:00.000-08:00

The following posting is not my own words but was forwarded to me via e-mail by a friend. You, I am assuming will have many thoughts about the following document-- I know I do. However, right now I unfortunately do not have the time to respond as fully as I would like to. I am posting it because I found it ironic to the earlier post I made a few minutes ago. Now, I highly recommend the book list on Christian social ethics.

Proceed with caution. Some of it is confusing, hard to stomach, some insightful but unclear. A few things I do agree with. It also makes me feel, as my friend says, "like a raisin the the white bread".

My trouble with it stems from using and abusing biblical passages to prove an unrelated argument. On the other hand, what else do you use to make important decisions?

So chew on this.

"WHO WOULD JESUS VOTE FOR?

This is the best political advice I have received.

1. Jesus would not vote according to his 'pocketbook.' 1 Timothy 6:10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many grief's.Philippians 4:19 But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.

2. Jesus is Pro Life. Jeremiah 1:5 Before you were formed in the body of your mother I had knowledge of you, and before your birth I made you holy...Matthew 19:14 But Jesus said, suffer the little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

3. Jesus is not tolerant of the homosexual lifestyle. Romans 1:27-28 And in the same way the men gave up the natural use of the woman and were burning in their desire for one another, men doing shame with men, and getting in their bodies the right reward of their evil-doing. And because they had not the mind to keep God in their knowledge, God gave them up to an evil mind, to do those things which are not right...

4. Jesus would not vote for anyone who has interests in other religions besides Christianity. John 14:6 Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life.No one comes to the Father except through me.

5. Jesus is against welfare (the church should provide for people's needs). 2 Thessalonians 3:10 For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.

6. Jesus is pro Israel. Nehemiah 13:2 Because they did not give the children of Israel bread and water when they came to them, but got Balaam to put a curse on them: though the curse was turned into a blessing by our God. Genesis 12:2-3 I will make of you a great nation. I will bless you and make your name great. You will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse him who curses you. All of the families of the earth will be blessed in you.

7. Jesus knows who really controls the economy. Matthew 6:31-34 So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear? For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

8. Jesus is not worried about social security or the stock market. Matthew 6:19-20 Do not store up for yourselves
treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy,and where thieves do not break in and steal.

It all comes down to this. We need God in America again. Our economy, our children, our marriages, etc. need healing.

While neither candidate looks to be a strong Christian candidate - as a nation which one will lead us closer to God and not farther away? 2 Chronicles 7:14 If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

As Christians, who we vote for does matter to God! Romans 14:11-12 As surely as I live,' says the Lord, every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to God. ' So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God.

I'm a Christian and I approve of this message..."

My name is Kelli Christianson, I live my life in a fallen world to be obedient to Christ as best I can. I don't approve of this message- a few concepts yes, but mostly no.

Our Local Vote

2008-11-04T12:03:00.000-08:00

Tonight is the night, my friends. Bring your party hats and your box of tissues. Who knows what is going to happen. As excited as I am for this wonderful, terrifying event of the National Presidency, I wanted to remind myself and others that although your individual vote for president doesn't really matter, unless you are in a swing state, remember that you vote greatly affects local candidates and local issues.

I understand the difficulty of finding resources on local politics. Try to search on the internet, call knowledgable friends, think carefully about the implications of the issues and initiatives not just for your personal life but for the care of others.

Your vote does matter, greatly. Life is political. It just is.

For further reading I recommend, The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder, Resident Alien and The Peaceable Kingdom by Stanley Hauerwas and last, but definitely not least, an essay by Karl Barth titled "Karl Barth, “Christian Community and Civil Community". Oh, almost forgot, George Hunsinger essays, “Barth, Barmen, and the Confessing Church Today” and "Where the Battle Rages: Confessing Christ in America Today,” in Disruptive Grace: Studies in the
Theology of Karl Barth.

Tonight, my bi-partisan mavericks, there will be change, no matter what happens. I find myself hoping for hope.

To suffer?

2008-11-02T20:49:00.000-08:00

Sitting here on my bed for the last hour, wanting to write but not knowing what to say. Does one simply pour their heart out on a public website so others can read bits of my soul? How bizarre. Any yet, here I sit waiting to fill the void through this cathartic blog post, thinking to myself, maybe the pieces I leave here will stay here in cyberspace and others can observe and deal with them.
Why do we write? Why ask questions to microchips, wires, and connections? Why does it feel good to share with an object as I sit alone? Yet, I do miss my own handwriting and the privacy of paper.

Halloween is over. What a year it has been. God has chiseled my being as He would a sculpture through scrapping, pain, and frustration.

General suffering encompasses all the misery, illness, pain and death which is inexplicably part of the human condition. As Bonhoeffer explains it, this is the result of human sin, not the will of God.

Christian suffering, however, is a specific kind of suffering which, for Bonhoeffer has three main features: first, it is voluntary; second, it is bearing the burdens of others; and, third, it is done for the sake of Christ. This suffering is the active following of Jesus into a painfully broken world, doing the "extraordinary" not from an extension of ourselves but from the "prompting of the Spirit" in Christ.

"Bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ" (Gal 6:2).

God bears our sin, bears our pain, bears our anguish. God bears the suffering the world in the cross of Christ.

So do we pursue a cross to bear? No. God has taught that opportunities for bearing crosses will occur along life's way and all that is required is the willingness to act when the time comes. The needs of the neighbor, especially those of the weak and empty, the victimized and the persecuted, the poor and the lonely, will become abundantly clear.

Suffering- I do not attempt to understand it. I simply strive to better recognize the truth in a very painful year.

I just found Radiohead.

2008-10-31T13:18:00.000-07:00

They started in 1986.
So did I.

Center For Justice

2008-10-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

Our legal system is amazing to me. I have learned more from my
internship in the last two months than in the past three and a half
years combined.

At the Center for Justice's Community Advocacy program, I am learning to
run the drivers re-licensing program with volunteer Randy Heinnaman.
Basically I take interviews and draft paperwork, write motions,
declarations, and orders for the prosecutor, judge, and the Center's
attorney to sign. The motions call for old tickets to be drawn out of
collections to be compressed and for the clients to be assigned a
payment plan of $25 (or more) each month, until their fines are paid
off. The clients are 3rd, 2nd, and 1st degree felons who have had their
driver's licenses suspended for traffic violations.

The Center only takes clients who are making clear and difficult choices
to put their lives back together. The Center argues on behalf of the
clients so that they can get their licenses back to drive to work,
provide their children (i.e. get them to the doctor, pre-school, etc.)
and start over (i.e. get to a new job).

The fascinating part about my job is listening to people's stories.
Mistakes made in the past haunt people; the system isn't designed to
help people get back on their feet.

It takes a great deal of commitment, dedication, and courage to go
through drug treatment, alcohol treatment, CPS to get their children
back, find a job (hard to do with a criminal record) which usually end
up paying only minimum wage. The introductory jobs are often night
shifts that make public transportation nearly impossible because buses
aren't running and walking late at night, especially for female clients,
can be really dangerous. Then these traffic tickets that were never paid
(often because the clients were too poor to pay them) are sent to
collections where the mounting interest alone becomes horrific to face.
Moreover, the costs tend to snowball. Collections agencies start
refilling claims every sixty days. So now you have exorbitant court fees
and attorney costs, in addition to your original ticket fines.

The question becomes: Why start paying them off when you know you will
never catch up? Once in collections, the collections agencies start
garnishing people's wages. They take up to 44% of people's living wages
to pay off traffic fees. 44%!!! Could you live off of 44% of your income
at a minimum wage job?

Hopelessness leads to bad choices and the cycle repeats itself- if not
with the same person then with the next generation. So many of us, with
far fewer difficulties, can become overwhelmed to the point of inaction.
Inaction is the poison of hopelessness. Action is movement and movement
is the antidote to inaction. This is what the program does-it adds
movement to encourage hope.

I love serving people. I love my internship. Maybe I will be a lawyer. A
poor one though, no question. Well, I guess that depends on what
constitutes wealth.

*** The Center recently published this blog on their website: Click to see, "Kelli's View From the Trenches". ***

Walking to learn

2008-10-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

17-year-old Khalid's village is a 40-minute walk from school and he treks both ways twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon for extra English and computer classes.

He tells me that at first he thought "computer" was the name of a person from the West.

In his own words he couldn't believe a machine could do so much.

"All we have seen is war. Afghanistan was behind the world. I quite like what a computer can do. We will some day rebuild our country with things like this computer," says Khalid as he busily types away.

Counting Crows

2008-10-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

I think this is my favorite band. I wish I knew why. Maybe because of their honesty. Maybe because I like crows.

Round Here

Mrs. Potter's Lullaby

Islam and Feminism - not mutually exclusive

2008-10-27T20:46:00.000-07:00

Fighting for Muslim women's rights

Barcelona hosted the Third International Congress on Islamic Feminism where women from all over the world came to discuss their similar and different issues they face as women in a Muslim world.

Asmas Barlas, from Pakistan writes:

Religions always come into cultures, they don't come into abstract and pure spaces. Islam came into a very patriarchal, tribal and misogynistic culture. One of the deepest damages to Islam has been its reduction to "Arabisation".

I'm not going to say that the Arabs are particularly misogynistic in a way that nobody else is, but I do think there are very particular traits and attitudes towards women that have crept into Islam.

If we read the Koran as a totality rather than pulling out random verses or half a line, that opens all kinds of possibilities for sexual equality.

Rafiah Al-Talei, journalist, Oman

Oman is relatively liberal, women are free to choose what to wear, and can choose their jobs and education. And the law does not require us to wear any particular form of clothing. But there are strong social and cultural factors - coming from the fact that we are in Arabia - that limit women.

The biggest difficulties are the social and cultural factors, and some aspects of law. For example, women who marry a foreigner cannot pass on their nationality to their children, whereas men in that situation can.

Norani Othman, Scholar-activist, Malaysia

I don't think it is any more difficult to be an Islamic feminist than a non-Muslim, or secular feminist. Feminists in general have to face up to political and cultural obstacles, to achieve our objectives of women's rights. Even Western feminists have had a similar history - having to engage with certain religious beliefs not conducive to gender equality.

Political Islam wants to impose a world view about the gender order that is not consistent with the realities and the lived experiences of Muslim men and women in contemporary society.

There is a difference between South East Asian Muslim countries and the ones in the Middle East - culturally we are less patriarchal, we can always respond to our detractors by pointing out we don't have the cultural practices that they do.

Our detractors would hurl empty accusations at us - calling us Western, secular or anti-Islamic.

Affirmation Girl

2008-10-25T17:29:00.000-07:00

My good friend Sarah thought this should be incorporated in our daily routine.

Mirror affirmations... a little self help.

Lesson Montage

2008-10-25T17:27:00.001-07:00

So many good lessons to be learned.

Pride

2008-10-21T19:42:00.000-07:00

Pride

Even rocks crack, I'm telling you,
and not on account of age.
For years they lie on their backs
in the heat and the cold,
so many years,
it almost creates the illusion of calm.
They don't move, so the cracks stay hidden.
A kind of pride.
Years pass over them as they wait.
Whoever is going to shatter them
hasn't come yet.
And so the moss flourishes, the seaweed
whips around,
the sea bursts forth and rolls back --
and still they seem motionless.
Till a little seal comes to rub up against the rocks,
comes and goes.
And suddenly the rock has an open wound.
I told you, when rocks crack, it comes as a surprise.
All the more so, people.

Dahlia Ravikovitch

An all time low.

2008-10-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

Obama: The antichrist?

This is the scariest video I have seen in a long time, for many reasons.

Fear is a terrible device.

Birth Control

2008-10-20T13:33:00.000-07:00

Today in Gender, Politics and Law, our class continued watching a series of film. This morning's section was focused on sexuality and injustice. The TV mini series, A Century of Women (1994), looks at the roles of American women over the past century.
Why as a lover of history, who has taken a great breath of classes, have I never even heard of this women? Why are they not in the history books? Why are their struggles not visible?
Edna St. Vincent Millay, was the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. In tune to her own sexuality she scandalized the country with her honesty, unconventional lifestyle, and lovers.

Margaret Sanger was an amazing birth control activist who dedicated her life to helping poor women who were literally dying physically or psychologically from child birth.

So determined to bring contraceptives to the United States, Sanger teamed with a German brandy company and stuffed hundreds of diaphragms into brandy bottles. The wooden crates were loaded onto a ship and marked with black "x"'s. Approaching the docks in New York, the ship's crew through the boxes overboard where a man who owned a mining company put his team to work. When Sanger first approached the mining foreman, she asked if he would help. His response was that he would do everything for free if his wife could have a diaphragm. He was a father to fourteen children.

I have so many questions about birth control, abortion, rights of women, rights of the unborn children, patriacrhy, power and injustice.

As a woman and as a Christian I have to ask myself, what is justice? What is merciful? Letting women make their own decisions about their bodies and their futures? Giving voices to unborn children at conception? At the frist trimester, at the second? at the third?

I don't know the answers.

Spaten Optimator and the Purity Law

2008-10-20T00:01:00.001-07:00

Wednesday night traditions involve good friends and good fellowship in downtown Spokane at an underground pub, called Catacombs. Here is where my dear friend Sarah and I encountered the Spaten Optimator. (must be pronounced in a heavy German accent.)

In 1516 Duke Wilhelm IV of Bavaria issued the so-called 'Purity Law', decreeing that from then on beer was only allowed to be brewed from malt, hops and water.

Since then, Spaten has brewed its beers in strict adherence to the Purity Law - "quality you can taste", they advertise.

Spaten claims that the hops are the "soul of the beer". I concur Spaten. I concur.
Thank you Bavaria for brewing good things.

It is interesting learning about beer and wine. Coming from a family where the cooking wine is hid in secret places, it has been my delight to try new beverages and drink responsibly. Thank you Mom for the protection- look forward to sharing good tastes with you.

June Jordan: Saying what people fear to read.

2008-10-19T23:55:00.000-07:00

Poem about My Rights

Even tonight and I need to take a walk and clear
my head about this poem about why I can’t
go out without changing my clothes my shoes
my body posture my gender identity my age
my status as a woman alone in the evening /
alone on the streets / alone not being the point /
the point being that I can’t do what I want
to do with my own body because I am the wrong
sex the wrong age the wrong skin and
suppose it was not here in the city but down on the beach /
or far into the woods and I wanted to go
there by myself thinking about God / or thinking
about children or thinking about the world / all of it
disclosed by the stars and the silence:I could not go and I could not think and I could not
stay there
alone
as I need to be
alone because I can’t do what I want to do with my own
body and
who in the hell set things up
like this
and in France they say if the guy penetrates
but does not ejaculate then he did not rape me
and if after stabbing him if after screams if
after begging the bastard and if even after smashing
a hammer to his head if even after that if he
and his buddies fuck me after that
then I consented and there was
no rape because finally you understand finally
they fucked me over because I was wrong I was
wrong again to be me being me where I was / wrong
to be who I am
which is exactly like South Africa
penetrating into Namibia penetrating into
Angola and does that mean I mean how do you know if
Pretoria ejaculates what will be the evidence look like the
proof of the monster jackboot ejaculation on Blackland
and if
after Namibia and if after Angola and if after Zimbabwe
and if after all of my kinsmen and women resist even to
self-immolation of the villages and if after that
we lose nevertheless what will the big boys say will they
claim my consent:
Do You Follow Me: We are the wrong people of
the wrong skin on the wrong continent and what
in the hell is everybody being reasonable about
and according to the Times this week
back in 1966 the C.I.A. decided that they had this problem
and the problem was a man named Nkrumah so they
killed him and before that it was Patrice Lumumba
and before that it was my father on the campus
of my Ivy League school and my father afraid
to walk into the cafeteria because he said he
was wrong the wrong age the wrong skin the wrong
gender identity and he was paying my tuition and
before that
it was my father saying I was wrong saying that
I should have been a boy because he wanted one / a
boy and that I should have been lighter skinned and
that I should have had straighter hair and that
I should not be so boy crazy but instead I should
just be one / a boy and before that
it was my mother pleading plastic surgery for
my nose and braces for my teeth and telling me
to let the books loose to let them loose in other
words
I am very familiar with the problems of the C.I.A.
and the problems of South Africa and the problems
of Exxon Corporation and the problems of white
America in general and the problems of the teachers
and the preachers and the F.B.I. and the social
workers and my particular Mom and Dad / I am very
familiar with the problems because the problems
turn out to be
me
I am the history of rape
I am the history of the rejection of who I am
I am the history of the terrorized incarceration of
my self
I am the history of battery assault and limitless
armies against whatever I want to do with my mind
and my body and my soul and
whether it’s about walking out at night
or whether it’s about the love that I feel or
whether it’s about the sanctity of my vagina or
the sanctity of my leaders or the sanctity
of each and every desire
that I know from my personal and idiosyncratic
and indisputably single and singular heart
I have been raped
be-
cause I have been wrong the wrong sex the wrong age
the wrong skin the wrong nose the wrong hair the
wrong need the wrong dream the wrong geographic
the wrong sartorial I
I have been the meaning of rape
I have been the problem everyone seeks to
eliminate by forced
penetration with or without the evidence of slime and /
but let this be unmistakable this poem
is not consent I do not consent
to my mother to my father to the teachers to
the F.B.I. to South Africa to Bedford-Stuy
to Park Avenue to American Airlines to the hardon
idlers on the corners to the sneaky creeps in
cars
I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name
My name is my own my own my own
and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like this
but I can tell you that from now on my resistance
my simple and daily and nightly self-determination
may very well cost you your life

–June Jordan, 1980

The Praguian Poet

2008-10-19T23:01:00.000-07:00

My friend traveling in South America sent me this poem. I wanted to share it. Considering this blog is mostly read by me, I wanted to remember it.

"God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand."

Rainer Maria Rilke

Grace Active: A Puritan Prayer

2008-10-08T22:49:00.000-07:00

O God, may Thy Spirit speak in me that I may speak to Thee.
I Lord Jesus, great high priest, Thou hast opened a new and living way
by which a fallen creature can approach Thee with acceptance.

Help me to contemplate
the dignity of Thy Person,
the perfectness of Thy sacrifice,
the effectiveness of Thy intercession.

O what blessedness accompanies devotion,
when under all the trials that weary me,
the cares that corrode me, the fears that disturb me,
the infirmities that oppress me,
I can come to Thee in my need and feel peace beyond understanding!

The grace that restores is necessary to preserve, lead, guard, supply, help me.
And here Thy saints encourage my hope;
they were once poor and are now rich,
bound and are now free, tried and now are victorious.

Every new duty calls for more grace than I now possess,
but not more than is found in Thee,
the divine treasury in whom all fullness dwells.
To Thee I repair for grace upon grace,
until every void made by sin be replenished and I am filled with all Thy fullness.

May my desires be enlarged and my hopes emboldened,
that I may honour Thee by my entire dependency and the greatness of my expectation.

Do Thou be with me, and prepare me for all the smiles of prosperity,
the frowns of adversity,
the losses of substance,
the death of friends,
the days of darkness,
the changes of life,
and the last great change of all.

May I find Thy grace sufficient for all my needs.

Thoreau

2008-10-05T19:24:00.000-07:00

Be true to your work, your word, and your friend.
Henry David Thoreau

As in old times they who dwelt on the heath
remote from towns were backward to adopt the doctrines
which prevailed there, and were therefore called heathen
in a bad sense, so we dwellers in the huckleberry pastures,
which are our heath lands, are slow to adopt the notions
of large towns and cities and may perchance be
nicknamed huckleberry people.
from the Journal (December 30, 1860)

12 Angry Men (1957)

2008-10-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

The defense and the prosecution have rested and the jury of twelve men files into the jury room to decide if a young Spanish-American is guilty or innocent of murdering his father. What begins as an 11-1 case of murder soon becomes a dramatic reenacting of each of the jurors' prejudices and preconceptions about the trial, the accused, and each other. The men literally bring themselves to the table and admit their mistakes. Some men do so humbly, others not so much.
The film is a powerful expose of the trial by jury system. The frightened, teenaged defendant is on trial and brilliantly scripted, so is the jury and the American judicial system with its supposed sense of infallibility, fairness and lack of bias.

Juror #3: You're talking about a matter of seconds. Nobody can be that accurate.
Juror #8: Well I think that testimony that can put a boy into the electric chair SHOULD be that accurate.

Stephen Dunn's Essay

2008-10-03T23:05:00.000-07:00

Essay On The Personal by Stephen Dunn

Because finally the personal
is all that matters,
we spend years describing stones,
chairs, abandoned farmhouses—
until we're ready. Always
it's a matter of precision,
what it feels like
to kiss someone or to walk
out the door. How good it was
to practice on stones
which were things we could love
without weeping over. How good
someone else abandoned the farmhouse,
bankrupt and desperate.
Now we can bring a fine edge
to our parents. We can hold hurt
up to the sun for examination.
But just when we think we have it,
the personal goes the way of
belief. What seemed so deep
begins to seem naive, something
that could be trusted
because we hadn't read Plato
or held two contradictory ideas
or women in the same day.
Love, then, becomes an old movie.
Loss seems so common
it belongs to the air,
to breath itself, anyone's.
We're left with style, a particular
way of standing and saying,
the idiosyncratic look
at the frown which means nothing
until we say it does. Years later,
long after we believed it peculiar
to ourselves, we return to love.
We return to everything
strange, inchoate, like living
with someone, like living alone,
settling for the partial, the almost
satisfactory sense of it.

Don't vote= vote

2008-10-03T15:26:00.000-07:00

Black Oaks

2008-09-17T15:14:00.001-07:00

Black Oaks

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.

But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,

I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

-Mary Oliver

Thank you Eleanor

2008-09-16T19:47:00.001-07:00

by the words of Eleanor Roosevelt:

Do
one
thing
every
day
that
scares
you.

More to learn...

2008-09-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

The more I go to school, the more I learn. The more I learn I have much to learn. I have learned very little of what there is to learn. I think I will go to school forever/

What I am learning in school--

Rutger's has a wonderful program with a great deal of research and scholarship on the Impact of Women in Public Office at the Center for Women in American Politics.

Another interesting site that my Gender class has been discussing is a website devoted to Christians for Biblical Equality. It also has interesting scholarship- most I agree with, some I don't. Some articles are boring, some fascinating.

Palin and Clinton

2008-09-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

Back to school and busying myself with so many things.

Grandma and Aunt Suzie,

Since you are the only two reading this, my class schedule has evolved into:

Gender Politics and Law
Consitutional Law- Where we are reading Bork's The Tempting of America.

In my Independent study I am reading Niebuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society.

I also got the internship downtown at the Center for Justice.

Plus--- I am a peer advisor for the freshman in Julia Stronk's Freshman Seminar class for political science majors.
And Tanzania prep course is starting up this Thursday where I will give a power point on my trip from last January.
I love my classes. I am already far too busy but there is so much to learn and do.

In my Gender, Politics and Law class, we watched the most hilarious and absurdly true to form SNL skit on Palin and Clinton.

Right now I am at the Hewa's home babysitting her twin 1.5 year olds, Grace and Isaac. Elizabeth has another baby due in December. She has been a blessing to me at Camp Spalding and its so wonderful to be in a home with babies instead of discussing theory with everyone my own age (not that I don't love that too).

Feeling strangely old today

2008-08-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Billy Collins

Reluctance

2008-08-28T12:52:00.001-07:00

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

Robert Frost

Morning Chicken Chase

2008-08-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

Mom appeared this morning from her bedroom looking forlorn. I asked her what was the matter. "Brownie, the hen, had to brave the storm last night and is probably dead." She responds. KT appears in the hall, smiling, "Oh whatever Mom, I am sure if we just look out the window she will be there." "Ha," KT replies, "She's in the neighbor's yard!" Our neighbor Georgine and her son open their front door and start chasing the chicken around her yard, trying to corner it against the fence. Greg runs across the road, followed by the gallant but slow Sophie the dog. Sophie thinks this is great fun and runs circles every time the chicken clucks. Kayti and I watch, laughing from the upstairs window. Under the cars, under the trailer, across the other road the hen dodges and weaves to avoid the dog, cat, Greg and neighbors. Mom runs across the road with a leash yelling, "Sophie, Sophie!" They round the corner, hen in first, Greg close behind, Sophie in obvious second but gaining ground. Out of sight. KT and I, close to tears, await to see who will win. Chicken vs Sophie. Or is it chicken vs Greg? Or Mom vs. Sophie? Greg appears from the bushes with Brownie under arm. Success. I go to the porch, applauding the courageous forces. Mom trips in her excitement, falling over Sophie, who is now on the leash. More laughter. More applause. Winner? Leash.

Picture of Sophie in the snow last winter.

G. KLIMNT: Kiss

2008-08-26T00:59:00.000-07:00