Tacos and Salsa

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" JD asks as I recline in the lazy boy near the window, feet propped up with a Wendell Berry book in my hand. It's Saturday night, date night. And for us, date night means we eat dinner at home. "Ummm tacos!" I respond, eager to get started on tonight's meal. "OK, but we need to go to the store to get some tomatoes, onions, lettuce, tortillas, and hot sauce. Hey, maybe I'll make some salsa too," my gourmet husband answers as he grabs the keys. "I'm coming with you, because you need supervision when traveling to the grocery store alone." Our grocery bill may or may not be significantly higher if one of us doesn't keep the other in balance when meandering through the grocery aisles.

60 dollars later, JD and I leave the grocery store with two new beach chairs, and all the necessary ingredients for homemade salsa, spanish rice, and tacos. The beach chairs were only ten dollars each...

We take our places in the kitchen and at the grill, JD jokes that I am his little Latina wife (only not at all - have you seen how white I am compared to my husband? Light brown hair doesn't help either. The only thing going for me in that department is a curvy figure...) as I prepare the rice and taco meat. Apparently I have gained a knack for making rice, because it is now my dish of choice. At one time, JD even went so far as to say I prepared the rice just like his mom and aunt do (flattery or a tremendous compliment, I'm not sure which - but in this family, rice is not cooked in a rice steamer, so I appreciate the kind words). Rice and chocolate cake - dishes I can serve in confidence.

JD stands at the BBQ on our lanai and grills the vegetables for our homemade salsa. He has a talent and a gift when preparing food.

When my husband makes a meal, he doesn’t do it to check it off the list of household duties or to fulfill a task. Out of quiet necessity, my husband pours his love into his hands as he prepares our dinner. Each seasoning added is well thought through and deliberately placed. He worships God as he serves me with his cooking. It is second nature to him. I don’t think he consciously serves with the intent of worshiping God; he just does it because his life is flavored with the love of Jesus.

Preparing dinner together has become one of my favorite activities in life. We've created a rhythm in the kitchen as we take turns sauteing, steaming, cooking, chopping, and grilling. Almost like a dance, we move around our tiny kitchen space to create a meal that is experienced in the preparation much more than what sits on our table in complete form.

And so our date night, although spent inside the normalcy of our own home, becomes an experience of unity, love, and refreshment.

I like Saturdays.

And in case you were wondering... JD's salsa was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Created Ensemble

I sit at the Heiau in wonderment of my new hillside escape. In reverent silence I observe the landscape before me. A tiny ant crawls near my foot and I watch as it busily scavenges for food. It's antennae is perked so as to alert the other insects that it is, indeed, on a mission. I watched for a while, until it found its way under a rock, hidden from my view. The boulder behind my back provides a relaxing recliner as I continue observing my surroundings. The branches to my left are gently swaying back and forth, as if a conductor is orchestrating a violin ensemble before my eyes. These tropical branches are none like I've ever seen before, but their movement is very familiar to me. I watch as their leafy arms wave in the air, praising their creator for His masterpiece. I shift my focus again. The marsh remains a huge, quiet expansion of tall stems and slow moving waters in front of me. It lays low, in perfect humility as if always it lay prostate before God. The stems gently sway as a breeze picks up, and the entire marsh moves as the Spirit hovers over it. Then the mountains... they provide a backdrop to the entire picture before me. Never moving, always standing. Peaks climb higher than others, and the skyline is broken with jagged points along its horizon. These mountains stand in perfect reverence. I relax deeper into the boulder and close my eyes, seeing the entire picture in my head as I had just experienced it. The ant scavenging for food so it might serve and feed its colony, the branches swaying in disjointed unison to provide corporate worship among the trees, the solitary marsh that lays in humility under the blue sky, waiting for a gentle breeze or harsh wind to bring life to its otherwise still demeanor, and the mountains... the mountains that keep all in perspective as they wait in salute for the coming of the King. And I think God must very much like this picture... All of creation as it contributes to the pleasure and praise of its Creator.

Shifts

My dad asked me last night if I could write a "good blog entry." I told him I don't know what to write. But actually, I don't think I know what a "good blog entry" looks like. He meant that he is tired of me just posting pictures and little snipets to fill my page... but it got me thinking. I spent some time looking through my old blog entries - beginning with my xanga and then the entries during Europe... all the way through school, engagement, etc. My writing has definitely transformed in the past three years... I wore my heart on my sleeve in my early entries (post break up w/ the ex-bf of 4 years)... then got theological... then journalistic... and now - well - kinda random... almost newsletterish.

I'm more cautious now. Partly because my audience has expanded and changed, partly because I don't risk as much, partly because I've gotten off my soap box a bit, and partly because I have to be careful with what I say while working in a church (can't talk about the crazy conservative culture I've stepped into as much as I'd like).

This isn't an apology, nor an explanation - more just a glimpse into my thought process toward blogging right now.

All that to say...
Here's what's going on in my head/heart as of late:

I wonder if we often make idols out of our ideologies, theories, passions, etc... As if the issue of the heart becomes the focus of our life and the reason it became important in the first place is long gone. "I have a heart for _________" suddenly becomes our agenda and the Reason it was placed on our heart gets shoved aside. In trying to gain focus and perspective, we often lose the big picture... If we stare at a famous painting for hours and narrow our eyes to focus on a small detail of the picture until the small detail becomes either a blur or a splash of color - the entire painting gets boxed into the small detail we are so fixated on... I'm not talking about gifting or how we all play different roles in the Body, I'm talking about the danger of glorifying an issue/agenda/even theology to the point where we forget that it is merely a microcosm of the Kingdom. Enough ambiguity. Here is my confession:

I got stuck. Recently I found myself trapped in my own persuasions and convictions of 'proving' that women belong in leadership in the church. As you will recall from previous blog entries, this is my strife, my passion, my agenda, and so on. I even want to write a book about it - well, I did. Until it started taking over my life. I found myself walking to and fro the office convincing others (in my head) that women are, in fact, called to be a part of the ministry of the Church. I found myself volunteering to pray at staff meetings, not because I felt like Jesus had a word to say through my prayers, but because it seemed pastoral. I even found myself getting discouraged if I felt like a lesson didn't go well because I thought I needed to prove that women are capable in the pulpit. Now, of course, I do believe all these things still and I will still be the first to step up and question why we only have male elders guiding the direction of the church and why women at this church can't have the title of 'pastor,' but gone is my own personal ownership of this debate. I became so wrapped up in proving my point that my own worth, value, and sentiment became attached to it. Bitterness crept in, the chip on my shoulder slowly carved its way into my bones, and I became my own worst nightmare.

Hear my heart on this... I have not changed my beliefs or convictions - because I feel like God has placed a significant burden in my life to persevere through some very real stuff in the eyes of redemption and the role that women might have in the Kingdom - but not for the sake of proving a point - especially this point. Rather, God has chosen a crazy lady to speak some truth into the lives of His kids, and no matter what your view or theology might say, it fits into His plan.

This all came about as I was confronted with my own worst version of myself. A dear dear woman with an extremely beautiful heart spoke to me about her frustrations with the church and the lies told to women about their 'place' and so on... and as I was listening to her reactions and solutions to this problem, I actually became frightened. She was sold out to this cause - and it can't be helped because she's been burned pretty badly and she's seen women thoughtlessly cast aside - but I realized that her words didn't reflect her heart for Jesus and His kingdom, but rather for correcting some misshapen theology. And I guess there are probably times when this is good and important and necessary... but in reflection of this conversation, I found myself asking if I hadn't done the same thing. I didn't get into ministry to prove a point. I entered full time ministry because I love seeing Jesus transform His people and I feel like He's given me certain giftings to allow me to thrive in this setting. I don't need to prove what has already been approved.

I'm not sure if I articulated this very well at all... but I feel like God has shifted my heart back into a place of peace... life makes sense here. I feel free to pursue the heart of God and lead where He has placed me without the added sensation of pushing my agenda.

Maybe this makes sense for you, maybe it doesn't. I certainly don't mean to imply that people shouldn't be sold out for a cause or shouldn't spend their life working toward social change or necessary adjustments... because I think there are healthy passions and even causes to die for that God wires us to pursue... but if not done out of pure love for Jesus as an act of obedience... then my question is why.

Ugly Chairs

"Honey I bought the chairs!"
Huh? I thought... "What chairs?"
"The chairs I was telling you about. At the Salvation Army. Four chairs for six dollars!"
"Oh... what do they look like?"
"Well, they aren't very nice."
"That's a good start," I said.
"They are patio chairs with horizontal vinyl stripes."
"Like beach chairs?"
"No. They don't fold up or recline. Oh, and they are pretty old so there is a little bit of red stained on the chair."
"Sounds amazing. Where are they?"
"We have to go pick them up, I can't fit them in the car."

The next day we drive over to the Salvation Army to pick up these chairs. On the way, I mention to JD that I am very nervous about these chairs. "They sound really ugly," I tell him. "Well, they aren't that great, but they aren't that bad either. I'm trying to make them sound worse than they are so that I won't build up your hopes." "OK," I said, and then we pull up.

We walk into 'the Army and walked past several pieces of furniture. That chair looks nice, I think as we walk past a white wicker chair with blue cushions. So does that one... a wooden chair with an oak finish. After what seemed like an entire store length of furniture, we walk up to a bundle of patio chairs, stacked on top of each other, with rusted seats and a sheet of paper reading "Groves, paid." Oh my goodness. These can't be them. No way are we taking these chairs home. What was he thinking??? "No." I said. "We can't bring these home. These are the ugliest chairs I have ever seen in my entire life. These are someone else's trash! They just felt guilty throwing them away since they are so large and awkward and so they brought them here!" And then I see the look on his face and pick up my foot to stick it in my mouth. "Honey, I know they aren't very nice right now... but I want to fix them up! A little spray paint will do them wonders." Half joking and half hurt, my husband insists we lug the four, most hideous chairs I have ever seen, into our car so that he might fix them up. I walk out the door a few steps ahead of him, still shocked that he saw potential in these chairs.

On the way to the hardware store I apologized for my words, "I'm sorry, it's just that... well... I think I underestimated their ugliness." He smiles and looks at me, "Just you wait babe. Just you wait." And then he says, "I just need to you to trust me." Well now I feel like the worst wife in the whole world but I still can't believe that he bought these chairs. "Just think of it like two drinks at Starbucks Annie, that's all we paid for these chairs," he tells me. "Now come help me pick out some paint."

The paint aisle is full of different colors of spray paint. I point to the neon pink can. "Really?" He asks. "No," I joked... "but if we have to buy ugly chairs we might as well buy ugly paint." JD smirks at me and points to a tan color. "That will be fine," I say, and we walk up to the counter and purchase spray paint so my husband can make ugly chairs beautiful.

I tell him that everyone must see these ugly chairs and take a picture of them with my camera phone to send to our parents. "Are you sending that picture so you can send after shots too?" He asks playfully... "JD, if your chairs turn out OK it will be a miracle. But yes, I will," and I agree to give his chairs a chance. "You are going to eat your words," he tells me.

And so here I am. Eating my words. Because my husband took a piece of garbage and turned it into something worth using. And I'm thankful that God has given him an eye for this sort of thing... because I think this piece of Jesus - the piece that wants to heal and restore and make things new - is in my husband and is used in a very real and tangible way... even with ugly patio chairs.