A Slivered Light

You could say disaster struck when I woke up this morning. But I wouldn't put it like that at all. In fact, today was the first in a long while I've woken up before hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock (which is on the other side of my room by the way, so I have to get up order to hit the little devil) a good seven times. I only hit it four times this morning. Haha. I really am pathetic sometimes.

So, waking up was actually a good start to my morning, er, day I mean. I ran downstairs and got on facebook for a few minutes to inform the world of how my day was going to play out. And so it began. (Well, it already had, but I'm just saying that because it sounds official, not to mention schweeeet. Haha. )

I worked out for a few minutes before eating breakfast, then took on the lovely task of taking out the garbage. Yes, it's an adventure in a class of it's own.

Okay, let's just skip the rest of the morning, because it was just homework for hours, and then getting dressed and all that pizazz. I got to the cafe at 10, and pretty much immediately got put to work. We were catering the entire day for a company meeting at West Ridge (100 people seems like a thousand when you have to prepare food for them).

So for the next couple hours, let's just say I was slightly preoccupied with making sandwiches for these people, not to mention the regular guests at the cafe. My break didn't come until about one. We kinda took it easy, cleaning up little by little from the catering as well as the lunch rush. Three-thirty came and went. And then four-thirty. I'm not used to being at the cafe in the afternoons anymore, so it was kind of interesting. At about this point in the afternoon, my mood completely changed. I'm still not quite sure why. But instead of being exhausted, crabby, and sore from being on my feet for six hours, I was actually somewhat energized. I think some of that came from hearing the praise band practicing. They're amazing at reminding me who is ultimately amazing.

Five o'clock. Crystal came in, and things almost instantly started to get hectic again. We put every living dessert known to man on trays--cookies and cheesecake, and cupcakes, and brownies, and russian tea cakes, and pumpkin bread, and lemon bars were coming out of our ears. Then we moved on to making dinner for twenty five people who had stayed at the church for a photo shoot.

What was supposed to be a simple dinner turned into a crazy nightmare. You could ask any one of the seven of us who were crammed into the tiny cafe kitchen throwing together side salads and dishing up spaghetti at a ridiculous pace. Or, running around, making iced tea, trying to find tealight candles for the tables because the other lights at the cafe had burned out (perfect timing, seriously). Then setting out all of our dessert trays in the sanctuary and individual drink cups with ice (thank you Josh!), and making I don't know how many more liters of ice tea, and washing more dishes, and goodness, pretty much everything else known to man. I was supposed to leave at 6. But six turned into 7:30 pretty fast. And I was quite okay with fast. It was faster than I could get to my snooze button this morning, and I still believe that was a good start to my day. There's a time for fast, and a time for slow.

Tonight, I stepped out of the cafe tired, I honestly can't deny that. But tired is really the only dominant feeling I had. Not angry, worked up, or overworked. I had a peculiar sense of calm. I started working through all the thoughts bouncing around my head, clearing things up one by one. And I began to notice something.

During the chaotic part of my evening, from the very start, I had been filled with the most amazing energy. The things that usually frustrated me at work, I still noticed, but was able to look past, and even laugh at why they bothered me in the first place. Some stinging remarks made to me, I was able to look beyond, and remain completely unshaken. I left, pretty physically tired, but strangely energized, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I don't know if I could even explain it.


I saw the moon as I was leaving. A slivered crescent of glowing light in the darkness that encircled it. And I couldn't help but feeling like the moon.
Living as a sliver of light--a light in a world so entangled in darkness, that light is completely unfamiliar. It is foreign.

I was so excited tonight. I turned on the radio and turned it up. It was country. So what, I didn't care. I rolled down the window. It was freezing. So what, I didn't care.

And I sang. I just SANG.

Tonight, I feel like I reached into a well. A well I've been afraid of for longer than I can remember. And I was too afraid of reaching into the darkness. But tonight someone helped me reach a little farther. And gave me the water I so desperately needed.

Change

One thing prompted me to write this note. but as I started writing, I realized that it speaks true of many different areas in my life.

This weekend, I found out that two of my co-workers were laid off. People I work with, talk to, vent to, laugh with, listen to, and appreciate--people who I love being around. That's frustrating in and of itself. At the cafe it's hard. When business hasn't been so good, we can't keep everyone. It's not that I don't understand. It's mainly the feeling of helplessness. Knowing that I can't change it.

Today, I found out that in addition to the lay-offs, the cafe now closes at two every day. No more cafe nights. September of 2007, we started making Monday nights "cafe nights." Basically a living hell for the employees at the cafe, having to get used to having two dozen, sometimes more, junior high and highschool kids "living" in the cafe for two hours that night every week. But for those kids, that was two hours of sharing details of their lives with one another, hanging out to perhaps forget, at least for that little while, any struggles that were going on. Or, sometimes, it was just to have fun and be a kid.

I'll admit, I'm not exactly the kind of person who embraces change and loves bouncing from one thing to the next, ready for whatever life throws at me. I like comfort. And unfortunately, I always get used to the routine. When things change, I don't like it. I don't like that my routine has been messed up and that I have to do things differently. Because of that, I seldom think of the benefits of change. I keep talking about how much I want change. The ironicity is almost hilarious. I've said time and time again that I'm sick of routine, and that I want change! It's a constant battle within me: "I don't like being stuck in a routine." but "Oh well, it's comfortable."

So, hard as it is, I think it's wonderful when change is thrown at you. You're given the decision to either run with the change, or stand and watch what happens, stubbornly choosing not to move because you're afraid of the change.

It's hard not to stand still and refuse to move. But when you stand still, that's just time flying by in front of your eyes, while the world continues to go on. Don't pout about change, learn to adapt to it. Or at least move with it, even if you don't agree. Complaining doesn't get you anywhere. Hating change doesn't mean it'll go away. You don't have control over it.

Just Trying To Understand

This time it doesn't start out "so today I noticed this" or "I woke up this morning and..." or "today I did this." No pictures. Nothing jazzy.
I'm a little sick of that trend.

I know you're all waiting for that sentence. That one that maybe explains the title a little better.
I'm working on it. There's not much point in saying "I'm full of questions." Everyone is, so that doesn't make me any more special.

Is this my life?
I stand sometimes, feeling like a failure, without ever looking around me. With often no reason but to gain the sympathy of others. Who am I to be like that?
I judge every person around me and think that I know their lives and can always feel their pain.
I don't know. and who am I to judge?

Sometimes I feel, like it's me. Just me against the world.
I just stand, stating what I want and need to do, then never moving my feet.
I try to explain and it never comes out right. Question mark.

What am I waiting for?
Why do I think I need a push?
Why do I feel like I need answers from someone?
Why do I think there's something I'm missing that I need before I set out in life?

I'm living in a box, and I'm not jumping out.
I'm looking around, at all the things that I could be outside of this box, but can't understand why I'm not moving my feet. Have I not felt the motivation?

There's a time when you find yourself asking questions you know can't be answered for you, but you have to state them anyway. Story of my life. And I think I already mentioned I'm full of questions.

Seems like I've got a long way to go.
It's an interesting journey, but I'm on quite the ride.
This is my life.And I'm just trying to understand...

Unfurling

Tonight I opened
my hands
to you.
I opened them
to look at the scars
one last time,
and unfurl the fists
I long held
to you.

Tonight I opened
my heart
to you.
I could feel
your arms
around me.
Your gentle embrace.
And I felt
healing.

Tonight I opened
my eyes
to you.
To the unseen.
I yearned
to give up everything.
And you gave me strength
to finally let go.

I want to understand
how to love
the way you do.

Tonight,
you helped me
let go.
Of the things
that I thought my mind
could never forget.
Of the memories
I felt would
sear my soul
forever.

I asked you
to break my heart.
To tear me down
to my core.
 
I begged you to rebuild me.
To wash me clean.
To teach me
how to truly live.

And oh, my soul.
Your love overwhelms.

I realize now,
everything I am
is for your purpose.
And everything I am
will go from this earth,
into eternity.

A Year Behind Us

I woke up this morning and found a newspaper clipping laying on my nightstand. The heading? --"Good Riddance to 2008." I tried to wake up a little more. I rubbed my eyes, grabbed the clipping, and started reading through it:

You're forgiven if you greeted the stroke of midnight with a shudder and an extra glass or three or four of champagne. Somehow New Years Eve this time seemed to be less a celebration and more an opportunity for a ritualistic casting off of the evil spirit of 2008.

It was a very bad year.

So you woke up on Jan. 1 and . . .

. . . Rod Blagojevich was still governor of Illinois, no doubt still plotting more mischief for his final days.

. . . the economy was still groaning under layoffs, foreclosures and a miserable stock market.


. . . it was still winter in Chicago, with prospects of more snow, more sleet, more ice and who knows, maybe even more tornado warnings. And potholes. Definitely more potholes.


It might be hard to find reasons to take heart on this New Year's Day. So we offer these.


Last year was the wettest year ever in Chicago, or at least since they started tracking these things the year the city burned down in 1871. So this year almost has to be drier. Doesn't it?


A prediction: Illinois will end the year with a new governor. Maybe it will end January with a new governor.


The Cubs and Sox can't inflict more pain on you this summer than they did in 2008. Which is not to say they won't break your heart. Just remember, everything's relative.


According to the Chinese calendar, 2008 was the year of the rat. That's fitting. A year named after a rodent with beady little eyes that hides in the dark and scares you half to and is capable of carrying the Black Plague.


Now we're in 2009, which is the year of the ox. We like the sound of that. An ox is strong, capable of pulling us out of a ditch. Let's get on with it.