the rose of kiev

I have a lot of compassion for people who have past scarring from bad churches.  What a terribly confusing dilemma - looking for the place reputed to be the first haven for the ragamuffins and outcasts, only to find the family of Christ full of judgment and all sorts of grief. I know.  I've been hurt by the Christian church in the past.  I have suffered as a result of misunderstanding, fear, and the imperfections of the people who makes up the church.  But I'm still here.  And I want to help woo the alienated and give them hope and a reason to fall back in love with God's church. In my life I have been in three churches: one Baptist, and 2 non-denominational.  Presently, I go to a college-age homechurch in Xenos .  We call ourselves Kodiak; this is some of us in the picture above.  And it's a good little church.  We're 30-some young adults between the ages of 18 and 27.  We're a weird, abrasive, creative, and passionate group of people.  We meet in the living ro...

I had been up since seven that morning, which, since I should've been out of bed by 6:30, meant that I had been running late all day. Running behind stresses me out, and as any girl can testify a hormone-stress cocktail is volatile if allowed to mix, and I could feel the spoon stirring inside of me. Even though I was running late to dinner with a friend on campus, as an act of prudence I changed course and sat next to Mirror Lake for 5 minutes to calm down. I sat in the grass and watched the fountain, waiting for the emotions to settle. Then along comes a happy couple of ducks waddling along the edge of the lake toward me pecking at the grass for food. Their boat-shaped hips swayed awkwardly from side to side as their flourescent- orange pancake-thin feet slapped the stones; I noticed the disproportionally pompous curled feathers at the tail of the male and began to laugh out-loud. Never before have I ever been so assured of two of God's attributes - His pleasure in the act of ...

In the time between living at home and being married now, I lived in a series of ministry houses with other girls in my church - 4 houses total. Several months ago the last of the girls I once lived with in the first on Dayton Avenue vacated the half-double, and its vacancy has made it a prime location for the boys in my present homechurch to move into. Being in that house and bringing in their belongings, I felt as though these boys were moving into my memories; it was a strange feeling, as though a good old painting I had was suddenly being painted over by someone else. As we walked up to the front of the house perched atop the steep lawn, repainted a less-offensive shade of teal than before, memories untouched for many many months came back to life with bright vivacity. We walked around to the back as the moving van door slid open, and I stared up at the back wall of the house. I did not want to go in, didn't want to see the empty spaces filled with boys' things because my m...

Our world's technology is rather amazing. If I really wanted to, I could never leave my house or see another human being ever again. I could even get a jump start on the ever-enviable Old Cat Lady syndrome. I could finish my degree online, get groceries and take-out delivered to my house, buy all my clothes from internet distributors, save money from not "going out", and talk on the phone with all my friends and family. No more sitting next to classmates who haven't showered since the beginning of the quarter. No more Bangladeshi cashiers who have such heavy accents you don't know what your total is. And no more spending the money on a dinner that didn't taste that great when all you really wanted to do was talk. This kind of lifestyle would be efficient and far more painless without such people hassles... But strangely...no it wouldn't. Relationships are utterly inconvenient and inefficient. You spend money eating meals with people, money on gifts for the...

This afternoon I suffered from what was probably the fourth headache I've ever had in my life. Blessed mightily by an excellent immune system, the times when the rogue bodily malfunction slips into my life I am completely lost. The last time I threw up (2 years ago) and was forced to rest my body, I thought Ramen noodles counted as the soup required for sick days. My appalled roommates quickly corrected my naivete. And when my headache came today, Dave had to forcibly tuck me into bed so I could sleep the effects away. There is a window in our bedroom that, somehow, no matter what hour of daylight is always gilded in yellow sunlight. It makes for waking up on Saturday mornings a warm and gentle process, the shadows from the leafless branches painted onto our cream-colored blinds. As I was waking cautiously from my nap, gauging whether the vice had been removed from my temples, my eyes were drawn to the blinds by a flicker of movement. The shadow of a sparrow had alighted on the sha...