madison musings

1.

when you realize that you have the capacity to make someone happy, i think it makes you want to do so. knowing that i have the ability to influence tim, to make his heart swell with joy, to make his chest puff with confidence... this makes me want to knock myself out to give him that.
and he, he would do anything to see me smile. and does.

2.

i'm not sure we can loosely or figuratively interpret Jesus' words about being with the poor, nor the repetitious declarations of Papa's affection for the poor. i think maybe it's literal economic deprivation that God is getting at here. i'm beginning to wonder if it's not even just about being kind to the poor and helping them to climb out of their poverty, but that maybe there's something to be said for joining them in it (to be poor without being in bondage to a spirit of poverty; to redefine wealth). that maybe there's some secret keys to the Kingdom hidden in living with and as the poor. and here in this polished madison neighborhood, what i miss the most is, surprisingly, the integration of homeless and addicted friends into daily life. there was something in those unlikely friendships that breathed freshness into my soul and into our community. and this new house, airy and still, feels sometimes more like cheap comfort than the previous gift of shalom prevailing amidst a holy chaos. i believe God's given me territory here, but sometimes i say, with longing, "oh, tim, can't we just move into the worst neighborhood in madison?!"

3.

5:30 a.m. is still-dark and hopeful. it's when i get out of bed and put the water to boil for the french press. then warm up the rice porridge whilst i take a quick shower and put on some clothes. i take my bible and journal to the cushy red rug in the living room (it was during conversations on this rug i fell in love with tim), and, coffee mugs in hand (one for him, one for me) i wait for him to come. at 5:50 he steps through the door and embraces me a few moments before we settle in to chat with our Papa. we talk with Him aloud, starting with adoration and gratitude, moving into confident petitioning on behalf of ourselves, our household, our families, our neighborhood, and our ministries. at 6:30, with our hearts so bowed and our hands so offered, we then part ways to work our days.

4.

and here is how work is working. for me, it's 7-11 a.m. on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays. it's working with grace of the glittering smile and the patient-through-pain voice. it's finding here on her anti-gravity bed, tended to by the gentle hands of randy-the-nurse and renada-the-care-giver, going through the painstaking process of getting her paralyzed body out of bed for one more day. while lindsay, who is 7 in mind and 23 in body, goes through her own routine in their shared bathroom, occasionally saying, "you dirty rat." and i have involvement in the intimate moments of a beginning-the-day routine, and i am learning to see with the eyes of a woman who can move nothing more than biceps and neck-up, and i am lending my hands and my strength where hers would have been had she not been in that accident 9 years ago. a great deal of the time she is in pain from misalignment or slow-to-heal sores that rip her flesh, and i hurt to know that as i go through my learning curve, i may at moments contribute to her bodily pain. but i do so hope that in my light-filled presence i might somehow sooth other sorts of pains.

then i go home to run my errands, keep my house, ride a bike, cook dinner for friends, snuggle my boyfriend, stand in a hot shower... and i think of how fortunate these small things are, how not to be taken for granted.