In Rememberance

I've waited almost a week to post the following entry. I've been forming the words in my head with tender care. Last Thursday was my first Thanksgiving away from my family. It was also the first Thanksgiving since my grandmother passed away.



For me Thanksgiving is filled with memories of Grandma--from her famous cornbread dressing to card games to greasy wishbones filled with promise of the best wishes ever wished. Grandma was a daily fixture in my childhood. Rarely did a day pass without talking to her or at least hearing the latest gossip passed through my mother of the goings on in our church's senior adult ministry. We saw her at least three or four times a week and at most daily. The cranny's of mind are stuffed full of memories of Grandma.

The smallest things remind me of her--Vicks Vapor Rub, folded Kleenex, and cornbread. I could tell you many stories of my grandmother. I could tell you of the trials and triumphs of her 96 years. I could tell you of her truest and best love, my mother. I could tell you of a woman after God's heart.

Thank You, Father, for each moment we had to share.

As I think of my grandmother today, I also want to remember my friend Nicole, her daugthers and son. Nicole, I only met your mother once, but I knew through you and your girls the love that she had. Blessings to you, my friend, may God grip you tightly in His embrace.

Rent

Last night Kristi B., her mom, friend Tabitha, Emily and I went to see Rent. I have to say that I was very impressed with how faithful the movie was to the original Broadway musical, and not being confined to a stage, they were able to do some pretty amazing things with the set.

Rent is probably one of the most controversial musicals ever made, and the movie brought the controversy into full Techincolor. If you are feint of heart, I don't suggest that you go see this movie. However, if you want to be challenged to take a deeper look at society and love, then I highly recommend it.

The first time I saw the musical, it forced me to take a deep look at myself and how I love or don't love the "untouchables" of our society. I saw a message of love and grace portrayed that the Church needs to portray. I saw a drag queen do more to encourage others, promote love, and offer grace than I have probably done in my life time.

A huge message of the movie, even highlighted in one of the songs, is to "live for today." As Emily so aptly expressed following the movie (her first time seeing Rent), that is all they are living for is today. They love, but they have no hope of future glory--a hopeless existence.

I cannot help but be reminded of Peter's words, "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." (1 Peter 3:15) I pray that we would always be able to give answer for our hope and that we would be prepared to offer that hope to those who need love and grace so badly.

Pink Strikes Again

Pinkeye (also called conjunctivitis) is redness and swelling of the conjunctiva, the mucous membrane that lines the eyelid and eye surface. The lining of the eye is usually clear. If irritation or infection occurs, the lining becomes red and swollen. (source: WebMD)

I have not had Pinkeye since I was a little kid. Somehow, it is an infection that I associate with childhood, and I never thought it was possible to get it as an adult. I was wrong...

I have Pinkeye in both eyes, and I am sure it is just a matter of time until it spreads throughout the entire PUMP Church. Apparently it is viral and there is nothing you can do for it but to let it run its course--for the next 3-5 days! And of course it's highly contagious--good thing I don't mind spending loads of time by myself!

Thanks!

Some days are frightening and the task at hand is big. Some days you just know that no matter what is in your power to do, it's not enough. Some days you need God to be bigger than you. Some days you need God to help you live beyond who you actually are.

Today was one of those days for me.

And God was BIG!

Some days you just need to know that you are appreciated. Some days you need to know that others care for you. Some days you need to know that the church surrounding you is seeking to be like Him just as you are seeking to be like Him. Some days you need to cry, and some days you need others to pray over you in response to your tears--or maybe just 'cause they love you.

Today was one of those days for me.

And a lot of somebodies showed they loved and appreciated me!

To those of you who shared that extra love today, I thank you. You were a blessing to me on a day when I needed to be appreciated and a day when I needed God to be big.

And to those of you who need to be appreciated and need God to be big, He is BIG and I pray that someone shows you today that they appreciate you!

Need a Good Doctor?

Need a Good Doctor?: "Straight from Ike's blog to you. Let this make your day!"

Can't Deny it Anymore

Last week's highlights included a trip to Larch Mountain and Rascal Flatts in concert. That's right, Rascal Flatts with opening acts Blake Shelton and Keith Anderson.

Some of you are out there wondering, "Is it possible that Amanda Peterson went to a country concert? Is this the same hip-hop lovin', country hatin' girl I knew? Surely I have found the wrong blog. This must be another Amanda Peterson!"

I assure you that I am the same Texas gal who hated country music prior to moving to Oregon. However, something strange happened when I got to Oregon. I didn't hear country Music everywhere I turned.

The onslaught of steel guitars and deep twang of a country melody were left behind, and something strange happened. I actually began to miss it. I programmed Portland's two country radio stations on my car stereo presets. I began to listen to it more and more, call it homesickness if you will or maybe a nostalgia for the past. And now I genuinely love country music. I actually seek out the ballads that I used to hate. What is even scarier is that the more I listen to it, the more I relate to the songs and the more I discover that I am a Texan through and through. I can no longer deny my "hickish" tendencies.

Oh dear, what's ever to become of me!

Kidnapped

Yesterday I was kidnapped.

There I was having a jolly old day when along come my devious and yet ever so wonderful friends with a plot to destroy a carefully planned out day. Oh well.

Emily was the next to be kidnapped, and then the Grauls (my devious and yet ever so wonderful friends), Emily, Conor (Kristi's son who Kaelea watches in the afternoon), and I set off on an adventure full of winding roads and snowy tree-tops, after a stop off at Wendy's for some grub. (By the way, Ike and Kaelea, I think the second half of my chicken sandwich may still be in your van. Sooorrrry!)

When we reached our destination, Emily and I climbed out of the van in the midst of a winter wonderland. We each grabbed a hand of one of the little ones and set off up the trail to the very pinnacle of Larch Mountain where we had a glorious view of Mt. Hood, a somewhat foggy view of Mt. Saint Helens, and a view of the large cloud mass in front of Mt. Ranier. It was beautiful! Absolutely breath-taking! And breath-taking it was in the midst of snow fights and fruitless efforts to knock snow off near-by trees with heaps of snowballs as ammo.

I found rest up there on the mountain. A needed reprieve from the stresses of the world below. Thank you, Ike and Kaelea (Michal and Malachi, too) for sharing your afternoon with us and reminding me of the beauty God has formed, the joy of a snowball, and the needed rest of an afternoon with friends. I hope that I walked, or rather drove, or even yet rather slid, down the mountain with my head held a little higher. Next time, let's remember to bring a camera!

Why Microphones are from...

Tonight, the PUMP women went on an outing to Comedy Sportz Club--think Who's Line is it Anyway. All in all a fun evening, but knowing that it is an improve show, there is always danger lurking...

They at least had the decency to "ask" for volunteers, but not having ever learned the lesson "it's impolite to point," I promptly pointed out Kristi B. Didn't I know? Am I really so foolish to have also never learned the lesson that those who volunteer others get volunteered.

So I found myself on stage, hot lights beating down on me and the stairs of the crowd penetrating my very soul. Oh, the fear! I don't necessarily mind being on stage, BUT I am not an improve kind of girl. I have to prepare to be in front of a crowd. I need time to wrap my mind around the idea and to get myself organized. This was terrifying, so when I was asked to help off-stage, I quickly took the option not realizing I was headed for something far worse!

The improv game was based on sound effects. I was the sound-man. This meant a microphone. I do not like microphones. I am perfectly fine with my volume. I am boisterous enough as it is! Yet there I was, standing in front of a microphone with the cast telling me not to be afraid to really step up into it. Hello! Terrified of microphones! Not only do you want me to make sound effects into it (not my forte!), but you want me to practically put my mouth on it! Are you joking me!

I don't how long it lasted. I don't know what sound effects I made, though I know I did say "pop" and "bam" (terrible I know). I only know as soon as the skit was over, I made a b-line for my seat. I vaguely remember applause, and I received a coupon to get in free the next time I come. (Anyone want a free ticket?) This little coupon did come in handy as the full panic attack hit me once in my seat. Here I am fanning myself with the coupon, trying not to cry, and trying to return to some sort of comfort level. Classic!

I guess the important thing is I provided great amusement to my friends...

Nap time with Daddy! 

Super Hero Contemplation--Stick out the tongue and think hard about how to defeat those bad guys! 

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's my nephew! 

Pow! Bam! 

Warmth!

Quick update to let you know that it is actually warm in my apartment! I have stubbornly waited to call the gas company to turn the gas on until now. I did not want to pay the $5-10 for the summer months, and I decided I liked not paying a gas bill so much that I would hold off for as long as possible, November being my goal. Today is November 1st. The gas guy came today! Just in time!

Enjoying yet another must for women of the world--My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding. Jessica is over for the evening to enjoy dinner and a movie. A nice refresher after a busy weekend.

No Halloween activities tonight. I took in the festivities Saturday night at the Galyon's costume party. Lot's of fun complete with pumpkin carving and from what I hear a very exciting fire display. (I missed it because I left early, but I heard that they really set the party on fire!)

Sunday was TLC (Together with Love in Christ) an event where many of the churches in the Portland/Vancouver area get together at the Oregon Convention Center for Sunday morning services. Crazy activities, but all in all a good time.

But the thing most important to share with you is a prayer request for one of our youth kids. Dante, 15, went in to the hospital at the end of last week--gall bladder problems. However, they also discovered that his lymph nodes are swollen. They suspect that he might have lymphoma. We'll know for sure after the biopsy. Dante is an incredibly smart guy with a good family, but for a while now he has been hanging out with the wrong crowd. Please pray for Dante and his family. Pray especially for mom Beverly. She loves her kids a lot and wants the best for them.

Thanks for your prayers!

Learning to Love the Hard Way

In the last day or so, I have been thinking a lot about the people in my life that are "hard to love." (I hope you are not sitting there thinking, "Oh, that's me. I'm hard for her to love me." If you are, then please talk to me!) Each of these people that I struggle to love, I struggle to love for a different reason--some I feel that I have been crossed by, some grate on my nerves, some I simply don't understand. I wish that it was easy for me to love these people. I wish that they had never hurt me or that they didn't do the things they do that drive me crazy. I wish I could look at them and first see someone created by our God and someone who Jesus died to save--someone as torn and broken and ugly as I am, someone that ultimate grace and ultimate love is freely offered to. But I confess that I first see the irritating things that make me sometimes annoyed at their vary existence.

What irritates me even more is that as much as I am annoyed and frustrated by these people, Jesus loves them a hundred times more. I can't comprehend how He could possibly love someone that irks me so much. But He loves them all the same and He died for them as much as He died for me.

So what do you do with that? How do I begin to love them like God loves them? How do I let go and learn to love them--yes, even though they are hard to love and sometimes, it seems, impossible to love?

I guess the truth is that if love truly is a verb and verbs are actions that require thought and choice to make that action, then love must be a choice as well as a verb. That must mean that I--who have control of my actions, who can choose to be reactive or proactive towards people--can choose to love them. I can choose to let go of the things that vex me. I can choose to not let the injuries that they may cause, change who I am or how I see them--as a child of God. I guess that's what Jesus did when He prayed, Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

So maybe as I choose to become more Christ-like, as I choose to allow the Spirit to work on me, as I choose to learn and grow, then I learn how to choose to love them despite it all. Maybe as I work on me, then they become easier to love simply because I am becoming one with Christ. I can't change them, I can only change me and how I respond to them and how I see them.

Father, give me the courage to change who I am. Give me the courage to be like-minded with Christ. Give me the courage to learn how to love those who it is hard for me to love. Teach me how easy it is to love them because I am growing and walking with You. Father, grow me that I might love them. Father, forgive me for not loving them. Forgive me for my lack of willingness to learn to love them. Forgive me for my selfishness. Humble me before You, Lord, I want to love You and I want to love Your people. Amen.

Jim and Mary

Tonight was a different night for our life group (PUMP adult small groups that meet for fellowship and Bible study). Instead of study, we piled into our cars and headed to a nursing home in SE Portland. There we met, sang with, and prayed over Jim Grace.

We have been praying for Jim for a long time. His wife Mary is the best friend of our hostess Shirley Gary. Both are beautiful women who love the Lord so much. He has been very good to them and they both can tell you amazing stories about the grace of God.

Recently Jim and Mary have gone through quite a bit of trauma. Jim suffered a stoke and has been in a nursing home for several weeks. Last week, he was moved to the hospital for surgery--they had to amputate two of his toes. Mary, who is raising her four-year-old grandson, also went into the hospital last week. All of the stress she was under weakened her body and she had caught a bad infection. We then found out that Mary's brother was also in the hospital due to throat cancer. He has since been moved to a nursing home. In addition to all of this, Mary's son is in prison, and her daughter is an alcoholic and struggles with drug addictions. In the midst of all her family, all struggling, Mary is the only believer.

After watching Jim tonight and seeing his tears as we sang to him, I believe that Jesus is standing at the door fervently knocking. He wants Jim as one of His own and has wanted him for a long time. Please be praying for Mary and Jim. Pray for healing for all the hurts in their lives. Pray that Jim would accept Christ and that their children would accept Him. Pray also for their grandson as I am sure he is very confused and afraid at this time. Thanks for your prayers.

Pride and Prejudice

It's a lovely day in Portland! The sun is shining, it's a beautiful 70 degrees. A fine day. I have to say on such a day, a rarity in these parts, that I would normally find an outdoor activity to bring further enjoyment to the day. However, there were already great indoor plans made for this day...

We (Emily, Jessica, Christense, and I) are about two hours into a six hour movie marathon! Six hours--one movie. Pride and Prejudice. This is the A&E mini-series that aired in 1995. Why do we invest such time in this movie? Because we are hopeless romantics and we are women!

My first introduction to P&P came from my college roommate, Rachel. Homework breaks (especially during finals) meant runs to Texaco for 64oz. sodas (the caffeine fix being necessary) and M&M's (peanut for me), popping in tape 4 or 5 (we had the VHS version then) for the two best episodes of the mini-series, and pining away after Mr. Darcy aka Colin Firth.

Now we are giving Jessica her first introduction to P&P--the appropriate christening of a college freshman. The tradition and the obsession continues...

Seeking Truth in the Relationship

Since chatting with Ike last week (goodness, was it just last week!), I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be in relationship with God.

Really, let's be honest, can we really be in "relationship" with God in the way that we are in relationship with our mom or our best friend? It's a nice sounding idea. But quite frankly, I expect Meagan, my best friend, to call and check in every once in a while. I expect for her to come visit me and for me to go visit her. I expect to have lengthy conversations with her in which we discuss our lives and in which we bounce ideas off of one another.

But God is a whole different story...God doesn't call me up on the phone or even email. He doesn't come to visit me or I to visit Him, with the exception of a metaphorical sense. And the conversations that we have seem at times to be a trifle one-sided.

Now don't get me wrong here, I'm not trying to limit God's absoluteness or His ability to be in relationship with me. But what I am saying is that it is hard for me to be in relationship with Him because I can't be in relationship with Him on my terms. There are no phone calls or visits here. It's all about the time I spend in the Word or in prayer. Or is it...

As we discussed last week being in relationship with an essentially invisible and inaudible God, Ike came to a new conclusion that maybe the problem is the way we see the problem. Maybe God is not invisible and inaudible, maybe we are blind and deaf. (Read Ike's thoughts here.) Maybe we are all Helen Keller's seeking out our Anne Sullivan--our own teacher to help as communicate with what is outside our blindness and our deafness--seeking to communicate with the infinitely visible and audible God.

In light of that, it is easy for me to understand why sometimes my relationships with people bear a greater weight in my life than my relationship with God. It is easy to understand why sometimes I am more dependent on them than I am on an omniscient God who knows far more about me than I could ever know about Him. In my blindness and deafness, I can see them, touch them, hear them. But I can't always see the ways God expresses Himself to me. I can't always here His gentle whisper or even His roaring thunder. I confess that I am more dependent on some of these relationships with people than I am on my relationship with God. I confess that some of these relationships are on their way to becoming idols in my life. And I confess that I desperately want them torn down before they become that. I also confess that I don't necessarily know how to tear down those soon-to-be idols. I confess that I need God to do the tearing down, and that I need Him to place Himself securely on the throne of my heart. I confess that I need Him to teach me to overcome my blindness and my deafness. I confess that I'm dumb sheep and that I need a shepherd.

Lord, make me incredibly aware of you! Where my eyes fail, enliven me to Your touch. Where my ears fail, awake me to Your aroma. Where every sense fails, teach me to taste and see that You are good. Tear down all idols and would-be idols in my life. Be the shepherd that I need You to be. Lead me on clear paths, teach me to feed on Your Word, and whet my thirst on Your streams of mercy. I love you, Lord, and I'm praying to want nothing more than You everyday that You give me.

Carpet Fiasco!

Since living in Portland, I have taken residence in two different apartments. Both of these apartments shared the same fatal flaw--hideously ugly, odorous, brown carpet. My first apartment, which I shared with then roomie Cheronn, had nasty shag that would come up between your toes and exposed carpet tacks. The thing literally needed to be mowed! We initially, believing that if it was cleaned the smell would go away, decided to keep the carpet in order to have lower rent. But then it became a hazard--tripping on the carpet seams that were coming apart, smelling noxious fumes, and fearing that some sweet child coming to visit would be impaled by a carpet tack or would decide to eat carpet fibers freshly plucked! So we asked our landlord to replace it and started paying higher rent every month--it was worth it!

Having learned my lesson in the first apartment, as soon as I saw, and smelled, the carpet in my new apartment, I asked about getting it replaced. Of course my landlord, being the thrifty man that he is, decided the carpet would be fine if it was cleaned and deoderized. (Have I mentioned that the smell literally could have knocked you out with one whiff?) So the carpet was cleaned, oh well, at least it wasn't shag...

But as the weeks passed, I slowly began to notice a familiar pungent aroma, subtle at first but growing ever stronger. I knew that I could not survive living in the full force of the aroma, so I kindly asked my landlord, again, about replacing the apartment. This time he agreed. Obviously it was the pad that smelled so bad--imagine urine and a musty gym bag. So last weekend the new carpet came...

Well, it came in spurts. Initially, it was supposed to be replaced on Friday. But the carpet layers were in a car accident and we had to reschedule for Saturday. Inconvenient, yes, but not too horrible. It was slightly inconvenient that everything I owned--books, knick-knacks, electronics, small furniture, etc.--was crammed into the kitchen leaving just enough room to crack open the refrigerator! But I managed for one night.

Saturday rolled around, and I looked forward to lovely new carpet that would take 3 hours to install. They were supposed to be there by 11am. But the clock ticked on. Around 1:30pm one guy finally showed to take a look at the house and see the magnitude of the job (not a huge job as my apartment is not huge). Then he left for another hour to go get his buddy so that they could get started. The old carpet did not actually start coming out until around 3pm. At 6:30pm Emily and I left to go get dinner (yum, Chili's). I assume the carpet guys left around 7pm, but who knows. When we arrived home after dinner, my apartment was in complete disarray! All of the closet doors were shoved into the bathroom. My furniture was piled up against the wall. Carpet tacks, carpet excrement, tools, and trash everywhere! Those of you who know me well can only imagine the stress that this caused me!

They were supposed to be back at 7am Sunday morning to finish the job. 7am, I rolled off the couch were Emily graciously let me sleep and went to open the apartment for them. I then went back to shower and dress for church--being that I could not enter my bathroom, I had to borrow Emily's toiletries with the exception of a toothbrush (I luckily had an extra one in the linen closet)! 8am came, I left to pick-up kids in the church van. 9am came, still on the van. 10am came, I went to teach class. 11am came, and they finally showed! By 5pm they were finally done, packed up all their stuff--leaving empty coffee cups, water bottles, and carpet tacks embedded in various sections of the carpet for me to later step on--and were gone!

All and all, a harrowing experience, but the lovely smell and feel of my new carpet makes it all worth it!

Over-Used Words

The word "community" is an over-used word. I can't tell you how many times I have heard it and said it in the last week. And honestly, I think that I have lost all understanding for what the word truly means. Or worse yet, did I ever really know what it means?

com·mu·ni·ty Sharing, participation, and fellowship.

At least that's one definition (for the full definition, click here).

"Sharing, participation, and fellowship." Sharing in life, participating in life, fellowshipping in life. I can't help but think that we do few of those well. We seem to be very good at putting up the pretense of "community," but how much of that is true in your life grit? How much do our online communities, political communities, lifestyle communities, neighborhood communities, and church communities really mean that I am in your life--I know your stories, you know my stories, we weep together, we laugh together, we provide meaningful relationship for one another that doesn't allow for us to be lonely in a world full of easy-to-find, easy-accessess, one-step community trials?

Being as my thoughts are not fully wrapped around this subject yet, it might be best to lead you to an article that presents the subject much better than I can. Mike Cope recently wrote an article for Christian Standard on the subject that you can read here.

Mostly, I guess what I am saying is that I personally want to be better about community and building community.

Lord, help me to be a person that knows people. That I know what makes them laugh and what makes them cry. That I share what makes me laugh and what makes me cry. That I know their stories--the stories that make them who they are. And that they know my stories. Father, teach me the meaning of community and show me how to share, participate, and fellowship within community. Amen.