Two of my friends are in Kabo this week, celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary.  And I was given the celebratory privilege of caring for their kids.  Emily is four and Will is three years and ten days.  Both gems. 

The alarm screamed early this morning, as I had to make it to Theo class by 8am.  I hustled my way to readiness, before heading into the kiddo's chamber to harken their arise.  Will was a bit slower to the idea, but Emily streched her top-bunk arms and said, "Okay, Abbie, I'm all set for the day!" 

"Really," I inquired, "how's that, Em?" 

"Well, God just said so in my last dream.  At first I lost my lunch box, but then later I found it.  And then there was a monster outside and daddy came and beat him up," at which point her tangled hair and brown eyes smiled at me and said, "And then God said I was all set for Monday."

And then I said, "I think you must be right." 

All my un-set-ed-ness for today has stayed vanished ever since. 

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On different notes, a) I have friends in town this weekend and when Laura asked if she could get away with flip-flops to the wedding tomorrow, I realized I'm not sure anything isn't suitable attire in this town.  Meaning flip-flops and stillettos get away with events asking "formal attire."  b) I met with my new spiritual director today, who's a 76-year-old Irish nun.  And in short, not your typical evanglical.  Should be fun.

Have a great weekend!

So I'm at the Palos Verdes Library, because my computer got taken-away by the Apple Store this morning (just for a week, or so, I hope).  Therefore, I don't have much time (they give you 60 minutes, and I spent the first four checking email and facebook, so am down to 56...uppp...55).  That said, pardon my lacking conclusions and/or edits here.  But interesting thoughts brewing that I at least wanted to get out of my noggin.

I'll start with the Apple Store story.  So it was a bummer that I had to bring my computer in there 2 days ago for plug issues, and even more of a bummer that it bonked while they were messing with it.  Hence the Friday morning visit to the computer doctors.  Again.  Anywho, the more fun, or intersting, or confusing part of the tale, was that my appointment was at 8:20am, meaning before Brea Mall (where the Apple store locates itself) is open.  So a) it took me about 20 minutes to figure out how to break into the mall (before realizing they do, in fact, leave one cooridor/door open...which was of course on the other side of my Macy's parking spot), and b) it was wierd to be in the mall without other shoppers.  Since coming back from Uganda last summer, among other things, I've never been too savy with crowds.  I used to have panic attack and turn into a nutzo, and now I just get a little wobbly inside.  Either way though, try not to frequent crowds or rambunctious activity too often.  What was wierd about this morning, however, was that I visited the mall and even walked around a bit, why Apple was looking at my Apple, and had little to no anxiety.  Noticeably so.  Part of that may be pure growth on my part, but I think the bigger part is that as much as we criticize and blame "the mall" or consumerism for its rampant attacks on our wallets and well-being, I realized this morning that there's something to say for 'our' role in those attacks.  In other words, I think it takes two to tango, consumerism included.  Something about the lack of hustle and bustle and hoards of talking people around me made a morning stoll in the mall quite enjoyable, in fact (and I'm the one to typically say so).  So that's all I've got there...nothing terribly insightful, just an interesting observation about malls not being terribly vicious organisms, in and of themselves. 

So after leaving Apple, and en route to therapy, where my therapist never showed-up, I had to stop by the post office to send my sister's birthday gift.  The gal at the counter was named "Pervin."  Now when I say that name, it sounds quite horrific, like some car part, or ancient haunted house.  But when she says it, her Iranian accent gives it this lovely mix of romance and story.  Pervin was wearing a unique ring on her left ring finger, to which I of course commented, "Wow, what a remarkable turquoise stone and diamond.  You have one creative husband!"  "Oh my dear," sometimes I wish this was from a husband.  But truth be told, I bought it for myself.  I was divorced ten years ago and am now scared of going out with a guy, let alone allowing him the gift of decorating my ring finger!"  I guess post-people don't get a terrible amount of intimate talk time, which made me eager to hear out Pervin's next five minutes of downloading on love, life and relationships.  She rarely even looked me in the eye, but spoke with the confidence and cavalier of being interviewed for a talk show.  (You'd think this would only happen when there were no people lined-up behind me...oh, but there were.  Pervin was on a mission though, and P.O.'ed people weren't gonna stop her dialogue on life's meanings and mysteries.  She told me I should only, "go out with guys one day a week, adn if they want more, stop talking to them.  And then she said the best place to meet nice men was church."  I smiled and told her good, cause I tend to hang around that crowd on occassion.  And then she told me, "marriage is great for people who want to "make babies."  But if you're like her, (and don't want to make babies), just take the drinks and friendship and leave the marital stuff for other folks."  As I left her counter, I thanked her for the unexpected post-office wisdom.  She leaned-in and said, I really don't know you, but listen here, keep with your God stuff and you can't go wrong...I wish I'd started into that path many decades ago."  I smiled, wanting about 2 more hours to tease out this last sentence from/with her, but there were snickering folks behind me.   

Okay, I'm down to 35 minutes on "remaining screen" and have a load of emails to return.

Hope you're well.

PEACE

Yes, it is true.  I have wasted myself on enough drinking to find myself quite drunk, in the most fulfilling sense of the word.

The first and first of many CollegeLeader Conferences this weekend was wonderful (if you're just clueing-in to its topic, click on its link on my homepage).  It was rich, in so many senses of the word, and quite an occassion for gathering hearts and minds willing and wanting to challenge the trajectory of this generation.  I can honestly say I have a handful of new friends and a heart full of hope that yes, in fact, the local church is the hope of the world and yes, in fact, the location of college students herein is an integral and irrefutable part of that hope.

Our fantastic worship leaders, "Brayline," offered us this Fransiscan benediction to close last night, which seems a fitting close to this post. 

May God bless you with discomfort
at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships
so that you may live deep within your heart

May God bless you with anger
at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people
so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace

May God bless you with tears
to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war
so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
to turn their pain into joy

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
to believe that you can make a difference in the world
so that you can do what others claim cannot be done
to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Anthony de Mello. 
Jesuit Priest. 
1931-1987. 
Google him. 
It'll change your life.

One of his thousands of excerpts, which has grabbed me this week:

"A man found an eagle's egg and put it in a nest of a barnyard hen. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All his life the eagle did what the barnyard chicks did, thinking he was a barnyard chicken. He scratched the earth for worms and insects. He clucked and cackled. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air.

Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. It glided in graceful majesty among the powerful wind currents, with scarcely a beat on his strong golden wings. The old eagle looked up in awe. "Who's that?" he asked. "That's the eagle, the king of the birds," said his neighbour. "He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth - we're chickens." So the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that's what he thought he was."