Dancing Around The Fire: Wiccan/Pagan Campout

I have this great mental image of me whispering in the ear of the naive 14 year old girl I wrote about last week and telling her....

When you are 30 on a cold night in JULY lost in the hills of rural Missouri under a blanket of the most beautiful stars you have ever seen you are going to dance around a fire with a group of witches and you are going to love every single second of it.

I love my life. It's just so awesome. IT. IS. JUST. SO. AMAZINGLY. AWESOME.

In January, when I was researching interesting places to visit during my church adventures, I came upon a website for Oak Spirit Sanctuary Church of Nature in Boonville, MO and was immediately intrigued. OSS is a non-denominational Wiccan church on 160 acres of Missouri beauty (I love this state!). They aren't exactly limited to Wiccan beliefs. It's a melange of Wiccan, Pagan, Faerie, Native American, Norse and Celtic beliefs along with whatever feels right in the moment. There aren't weekly church services at OSS, but instead rituals are based around lunar cycles and specific holidays. I set aside a date to attend one of their Lunar Rituals in the summer.

Then roughly 4 seconds later it was July and I was driving down a gravel road in The Middle of Nowhere, MO with my partner in crime Rebecca wondering if perhaps I had made a mistake.



Where are we? What the hell are we doing?

 

 

After 2 hours of driving west from St. Louis we took turns down various gravel roads moving deeper and deeper into nothingness. I could feel it....the excited nervousness bubbling in my stomach and shooting little tingles all over my body. We were close. We had to be. Then. Finally. We saw a house with a pentagram on the siding and yard busy with the play of face-painted little children. We had arrived at Oak Spirit Sanctuary...and we had no idea what to do.

 

The main house. This is where we ate and there are places for non-campers
to sleep.

 

There was no place to park. There were no signs. There was no organization. No one seemed to even notice we were there. I drove through the property and found a girl setting up her tent. I offered her my questions and in return she gave me some answers. We parked by where we would be camping overnight, grabbed the food we had brought for the potluck dinner, and walked down another gravel path toward the main house to introduce ourselves and get the lay of the land.

 

A smiling bearded man wearing a straw hat named Tom threw his arms around me and hugged me tight saying, "Welcome home!" I smiled and explained our first time visitor status. Rebecca received her bear hug and we were shown around the property. There were children running everywhere and people milling about the lawn doing crafts and talking and getting drums together for the upcoming drum circle. It looked and felt and smelled like a hippie commune.We brought our dishes into the kitchen and were introduced to the kitchen witch, Kerry. Again we were given tight hugs and greeted with "Welcome home!" We were told to go and set up our tent (we were camping overnight) before dinner, so we headed back down the road to choose a campsite - setting up our tent near the community meadow and the location of the night's ritual.

 

Prettiest church I've ever seen. This was the site of the ritual.
I danced around that fire pit. Uh huh.

 

Now, don't get me wrong, I wore a super cute red flowy baby doll dress with leggings and a cardigan along with full make-up and perfectly styled curls to this shindig, but I'm not a girlie girl when it comes to camping. Once when I went camping in Kansas I was presented with the option for an air mattress in my tent. I was disgusted. I am not a princess! When I camp, I sleep on the earth. I pee in the woods. I listen to nature. I'm entertained by the stars. I get really stinky and gross. I just prefer doing all those things in an adorable dress. That's just who I am.

 

Here is (some of) The Goddess Shrine

I grew up a sophisticated hillbilly in the great state of Missouri with parents that believed in having culturally affluent children and friends that believed in wild free-spirited outdoor adventures. I love camping. I love art museums. I love fishing. I love fine dining. I love barefeet in the grass. I love fancy dresses - especially ones that twirl. I love hippie festivals. I love the symphony. I love it all. And it's because of all these experiences that I can blend in anywhere - no matter what I'm wearing or what's going on around me.

Rebecca reflecting at the stump circle.

 

I didn't feel strange at OSS. I felt at home. I felt fully comfortable in my own skin and fully free to do/be/feel whatever I needed to in the moment without fear of being judged. And I mean fully free. If I wanted to take off my clothes and start bocking like a chicken and manically peck at the ground it would have been completely fine. How many churches can you say that about?

 

Before dinner we all gathered around the table and held hands and the ladies said a blessing that sounded a lot like something from The Craft but was basically just your standard "bless this food" prayer. Then we ate. The food was yummy. Rebecca and I brought spinach salad with feta and cranberries and special roasted pecans my grandmother makes along with homemade lemon squares. All were consumed quickly. I find that one of the quickest ways to make a new friend is to make them something delicious to eat. Rebecca and I just landed ourselves so many new friends.

 

I love Rebecca with all my heart. We have ALL the fun. This experience wouldn't have been the same without her. There isn't an adventure she isn't down for. Even with her newly dyed bright pink hair she blended in easily. Rebecca also possesses that wonderful ability to fit in wherever she goes. Together we are a force to be reckoned with. Like a glitter tornado of friend making power.

 

Because we were raised well, Rebecca and I offered to help with the dishes. Sadly, only women were helping out in the kitchen. Kerry asked if I wanted to wear an apron over my "pretty little dress". We cleared the table and helped put things away before the ritual began.

 

*Sidebar* Did you know that Pagan/Wiccan rituals are done sober? Yes. Yes. Yes. No drinking or drug use until AFTER the ritual is complete. Luckily Rebecca already knew this and passed the info along to me, because at 9:00 on a Saturday night it's rare to find me WITHOUT a glass of wine.

 

Even though it was the end of July in Missouri - a time of year that is generally so hot you "sweat balls" as my friends would say - this particular evening was quite chilly. So Rebecca and I gathered warm attire to wear during the ritual. Standing at the car we watched as several women wearing velvet cloaks and flowy dresses began waving sticks on fire and walking around the circle. Some of them were contorting their bodies. Some of them were howling.

Oh my. What have I gotten myself into?

This was our first ever ritual. We didn't know what to do. We didn't even know if we could join. Should I wear my hoodie, you know so I have a hood? Should we just sit back and watch? Is it okay to chew gum? What HAPPENS during these things?

Screw it. Let's do this.

We walked up to the entrance of the circle and were greeted by a lady with long silver hair covered by a black velvet cloak with head jewelry across her forehead.

"Do you enter the circle with an open mind?"

"Yes."

"Do you enter the circle with an open body?"

"Yes"

"Then you may enter."

A lady with a burning stick of smelly something draped me in smoke.

Okay then.

There were only 8 or so people in the circle at that time. We did our "circles" around the fire as many times as we felt like doing and then sat down on the bench and waited for everyone to gain entrance into the circle (at more formal rituals you walk around 3 times clockwise and never counter-clockwise). People quickly realised this was our first ritual and were cackling with excitement. "Oh! This is your first time! Oh my! You are in for a treat!" I was handed a mustard yellow scarf and it was explained to me that I would need it for the ritual. "For what?" I questioned. "For dancing" she explained. As I looked around almost all of the women were sporting scarfs and barefeet. So, I took off my shoes and draped the scarf around my shoulders.

The circle began to fill with excited people swaying to the music, maybe about 30 people total. Drummers took their places along the benches. Statues and flowers surrounded the blazing fire in the center of the circle. We waited for instructions.

*Sidebar* Pictures will not be included in this section because pictures are not allowed at rituals. They ask that you don't photograph individuals because not all Pagans/Wiccans are "out".

A lady named Victoria, a self proclaimed Ecstatic Wiccan Buddhist, would be leading this particular lunar ritual. We were asked to stand and set an intention for the ritual. Was there any specific healing energy we needed? We were encouraged to share with the group.

Then the rules were explained:

1. You were allowed to leave and return to the circle as needed (this is not true of all Wiccan rituals)
2. Remain open in body and mind.

Victoria explained this ritual would be about movement and channeling the elements within, but first we were to walk around the circle and introduce ourselves.

I've been to LOTS of churches and almost every church has a moment like this - a greet your neighbor moment. Usually people stay within their little area and offer handshakes and "good mornings" and occasionally hugs. This was just a wee bit different. As I walked in a circle around the fire I met every single person, told them my name and exchanged deep bear hugs and occasionally kisses.

Michael Franti began to sing on the outdoor speakers Victoria set up and the drummers began to make beats. It was time to move. The first element was Earth. With our feet rooted in the ground we were encouraged to be trees. Victoria moved around the circle swaying and bending like a tree trying to get us to break free of our human bodies and not only dance like the Earth but fully become the Earth.

Okay. I had to giggle to myself. Really? Be a tree? Am I really standing around a fire with a whole bunch of witches dancing like trees? Is this really happening?

I used my scarf to cover my smirk. This was silly. But I came here to fully experience a Wiccan/Pagan ritual and I've never been one to care about being silly anyway. So, I let go. Completely. And I danced with all the Earth inside me. I was a tree. I was a beautiful strong tree with long purposeful branches.

Next. The song changed. It was time for Water. Victoria urged us to leave our safe spot. To move freely. To circle backwards and forwards around the fire. So I did. I used my scarf to make waves with my arms. I felt the water all through my body. I was fluid and cool.

When Fire came around I was fully loose, in the moment and moving around the circle freely. My fire was sexual - hot and intense and capable of amazing things. My hips moved in sensual patterns to the deep rhythms of the music. My fire was unpredictable. It changed directions. It changed movements. It grew high. My yellow scarf became an extension of my flames. I was out of control - coming up to fellow fires and breathing my flames in their faces. I felt wild, but free. It was glorious.

The beat stopped and the music became flowy like a summer breeze. Air. My scarf became my wings and I spun around people and fluttered like a faerie. I closed my eyes and moved with the wind of my soul (kinda like that Cat Stevens song).

The music stopped and it was time to be still. Time to be silent. I sat in half lotus and pressed my hands to my heart and thanked my inner Goddess for the moment. Then slowly I returned to Sarah, but not the same Sarah I was before the ritual. I felt free and balanced and AMAZING and high as a kite (again for the record there were no drugs or alcohol involved in the ritual). I ran up to Rebecca, whom I barely interacted with during the ritual and tackled her to the ground with a giggling bear hug. She was giggling as well. We both had enjoyed ourselves immensely and were now drunk on energy. BUT we were also giggling because now it was okay to drink the wine we brought. HOORAY FOR EVERYTHING!!!!

The group was buzzing we energy. Kerry came up to us and asked, "Are you girls witches together somewhere else?" We just giggled. I knew without even looking at Rebecca that she was as complimented as I was. "No. This was our first ritual, remember?" Kerry showered us with praise for our ability to fit in flawlessly and go with the flow. We were asked to return to another ritual as soon as possible.

A group of fire spinners and fire breathers were performing that night for the group while a drum circle beat out fantastic rhythms. (I wish I would have taken pictures or video but honestly I completely forgot about the blog at this point.) We grabbed our wine bottles and watched from afar. We needed some time to process the experience. The next hour went something like, "That was amazing." 5 minutes of silence. "Oh my god the stars are so beautiful out here." 10 minutes of starring at the sky. Drink. Drink. Drink. "I just can't get over how amazing that was." Finally when we regained control of our bodies we joined the group and met two adorable gay boys who lived at OSS and we ended up hanging with them for the rest of the evening.

We laid out under the breathtaking beauty of the stars by our private fire and drank wine and beer and ate organic rice crackers and talked about other communes we wanted to visit and discussed their belief in faeries as well as anarchist principles. We snuggled and giggled and sang Rocky Horror Songs and had a really really really good time. At the end of the evening the boys offered us a night time blend of herbs they used for relaxation - lavender oil, Valerian root and other LEGAL things. The mixture worked quickly and soon we were all headed to bed (the boys lived in a sustainable shed in the "village"). Rebecca and I put on extra layers of clothes as the night grew rather cold.

Then in the morning I woke up to this...

 

 

I love waking up to the sky and the trees and the sunshine and the (usually) soothing sounds of nature. We were still high from our experience and spent most of the morning staring at the sky and smiling.

 

 

Funny thing...after spending the entire experience using the woods as my restroom (I'm not shy about such things). I found an actual bathroom across from our campsite called Frog Bog. Silly me, I thought Frog Bog was just an homage to the magic of frogs. But in actuality it was a place with an actual (non-flushing) toilet, OUTDOOR and indoor showers and running water with real soap and a mirror so you could see indeed just how crazy you really looked.

The place had SO MANY FROG STATUES.

Each stall had art. Fairy frogs. Potty Poems. When I saw the outdoor showers
I nearly died. A moonlit shower in the forest. How wonderful.
The bathrooms were really cool.

We packed up our tent. Washed our hands in the BATHROOM. Gathered all our trash (leave no trace) and got ready to leave. I threw on some tie dye pants and a pink top. This felt like the kind of place where I could wear my tie dye pants all day every day and that felt so nice. We headed up to the house to offer a camping donation and say our goodbyes. Kerry encouraged us to come as often as possible letting us know that after completing 13 visits during the 4 seasons we are full fledged members with voting rights. Or if we we wanted to live on the land it was $1,000 for a sustainable shed kit and property rights. But this was our home now, and that's why everyone was welcomed with "Welcome home!" and she didn't want us to leave without knowing it. We exchanged information so we could stay on top of all the Wiccan/Pagan events in St. Louis. Then with some final hugs and thank yous we got in our car and drove back toward our every day reality in St. Louis. Neither of us wanted to go, but hunger fueled our ability to leave.

Even though we were smelly and gross and basically wearing pajamas we stopped in Columbia at a rather classy Chinese restaurant and ate a sit down meal. We were both pretty out of it and spent the majority of the meal alternating between stuffing our mouths and giggling hysterically.


When we got back to St. Louis we stopped by the grocery store for Sunday supplies and I danced round the aisles with wild abandon because I could and I felt like it and this experience has helped me embrace my weirdness even more. Look out world. But seriously, what harm does dancing down the aisles do? If they didn't want you to dance then they shouldn't have been playing "Maniac" by Michael Sembello over the speakers.

I still feel high from the experience. I know it all sounds silly, but really, what religion isn't kinda silly? Putting ashes on your forehead is kinda silly. Believing a man rose from the dead and walked among the living is kind of silly. Believing the Earth was created in 6 days is silly. Thinking pouring milk over an altar is going to provide you with blessings is kinda silly. Bowing to various corners is kinda silly. I don't think believing in faeries or magical powers or spells is any more silly than all the other religions. But just like all the other religions/churches I've experienced I found things that spoke to me. I enjoyed channeling the elements within me. I enjoyed finding my inner Goddess. I enjoyed the freedom of the moment. I enjoyed being surrounded by strangers I immediately felt comfortable with and fully accepted by - that's a rarity I haven't found many places and it was a true gift this weekend.

I would go back in a heartbeat and I will participate in every ritual I possibly can because I found it enormously healing. This doesn't change who I am, it adds to who I am. I'm not going to start reading people's Tarot cards or casting spells or wearing velour pantsuits. Hmm...or am I?

Blessed be.

 

 



A Poem

This brews not done
It needs more time
Perhaps some wormwood
Could clear my mind

But do not fear
My readers dear
I have not let you down all year

Indeed tomorrow there shall be a post
About a visit I loved the most
With cackling witches
And crackling fires
Clever faeries
and dark desires

Until tomorrow
My lovely friends
Then you shall know
The beginnings and ends...

Uh huh.

Sherbet Cleanse at Shabbat Service

Dan Schwartz.

I was a freshman in High School. Dan was a senior.

You already know the rest...

He was 18, smart, popular and handsome. He had a car (uh huh). He spoke at pep rallies (uh huh). He was sexually active (uh huh). He had green eyes with little flakes of gold in them (uh huh). He wore Cool Water cologne and looked amazing in a suit (yeah). Oh yes, Dan was the dreamiest (sigh) and I worshiped the ground he walked on. He was the god of my idolatry.

I was 14, overweight and awkward but very social. I was the president of my church youth group. I only listened to Christian music and Broadway soundtracks. I had giant curly hair that I hated and brushed into a frizzy ponytail tied with a big ribbon in a pathetic attempt to look like the beautiful ribbon tied soft ponytailed cheerleaders I so desperately wanted to fit in with. I'd never kissed a boy - except once, at church camp, but I'm pretty sure that didn't "count". I was well liked and not a total social outcast, but not even the weird boys would have classified me as "dreamy" or "pretty".

I'm the gem in the middle with my head turned. Note that sweet sweet
 brushed out ponytail. Oh yeah. The 90s ruled!

There is no reason Dan Schwartz and I should have ever interacted. No reason our worlds would collide. Except one. We were on the speech and debate team together. Yes, speech and debate - that glorious group of young intelligent people who felt very comfortable with public speaking. Speech and debate - that magical experience where there is one adult and 15 clever teenagers with raging hormones and a complete disregard for authority. Speech and debate meant hours of unsupervised down time waiting for quarters, semi-finals and finals. Speech and debate meant overnight hotel stays for out-of-town tournaments. Speech and debate meant long late night bus rides in the dark...

On one such bus ride I found myself sitting in the seat behind Dan Schwartz near the back of the bus. It was late. It was dark. Everyone was sleeping except us. Dan's head was resting against the window facing the aisle. The moonlight reflected through the window highlighting the sharp curve of his perfect face. I just sat there silently staring at the side of his head like a weirdo. He leaned over the back of the seat, smiled and started a conversation with me. My 30 year old face is flushed just thinking about this moment. I don't remember exactly what was happening in my 14 year old brain at the time but I'm pretty sure it was something like OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod
OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod.

He talked to me like I was a girl. Just a regular girl. He asked about my classes, my church and my love life (blush). He confided in me. We talked about his family and his failed relationships. We talked about his future. Then, without really thinking about it, I decided to take down my hair. I'd put my wet curls into a bun for the tournament that day and the tight pull of my hair was becoming uncomfortable. At this time in my life I didn't have the capacity to be sexy or seductive - just let me make that clear. I was probably tugging at my ponytail holder and scratching my head like child with lice, because I'm super smooth like that. The second I let my hair down I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. He was going to see what I really looked like and then he was going to turn around in horror and never ever speak to me again.

But that's not what happened.

Dan looked at me and said, "You look really pretty with your hair down. You should wear it that way more often."

And I was never the same.

After Dan's comment I stopped brushing out my curls, learned to love my natural hair, wore it down pretty much EVERY SINGLE DAY, fell in love with a super cute boy and landed my first real kiss - fireworks and all. All because Dan Schwartz said I was pretty? NOPE. All because someone I looked up to helped me understand that I don't need to be anyone but my true self. Dan helped me understand that my true self is not only enough - my true self is beautiful.

It was a powerful gift. I doubt Dan ever had any idea how much that comment changed the trajectory of my life. To this day, when I am feeling insecure about myself I think about Dan's comment. About 6 years and 75 extra pounds later I was driving around Springfield, MO with my windows down rocking out to some sweet tunes as I loved to do. Two men pulled up beside me and started to chastise me about my weight and hair. They called me Chewbacca (my hair was really really long at the time) and made Chewbacca-esq noises. It was brutal and humiliating. I was trapped at that stoplight - my eyes fixated on the bright red glow of the light praying for green to come to my rescue. I stared straight ahead, not wanting to let them know how their comments were hurting me. Instead, I focused on Dan Schwartz and his message of love and self-acceptance. I drove off feeling sorry for those boys who found pleasure in shaming a silly ole fat girl who was all alone driving around on Friday night.

But I wonder if I would have felt differently had I not had Dan's words to comfort me or the kind words of so many others. How many things have I said that were helpful and healing for people? How many things have been hurtful? Have I been anyone's Chewbacca tormentor? It's possible.

Oh, the power of words.

All this came up for me when I decided to attend a Jewish Shabbat service...

Dan gave me three real gifts other than allowing me to bask in his beautiful presence:

1. An understanding that my true self is enough and I am indeed beautiful JUST THE WAY I AM.

2. The power of kind words at the right moment.

3. A strong belief (prejudice) that all Jewish people are awesome and generally better than non-Jewish people.

See, Dan Schwartz was Jewish.

I didn't realize it till many years later, but Dan's comment left me with a prejudice. Upon learning someone was Jewish I immediately cloaked them in all these wonderful characteristics. In my mind ALL Jewish people were smart, funny, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, striking, open-minded and awesome. Yes, yes, I know, this is totally not okay. It's the same thing as stereotyping the Asian kid as the "smart one". You shouldn't judge people based on their religion or gender or race or ethnicity or hair color or sexual orientation or any of that other crap. (whining) But it's hard. And I'm still working on it.

Getting ready for Shabbat service I had to check my prejudices and try to clear my mind so I could accept this experience for what it was and only what it was - kind of like cleansing your palate with sherbet in between courses, which I love and think we should do at all meals and perhaps metaphorically when meeting new people. Hmm...maybe next time before meeting someone new I'll just scream out "SHERBET CLEANSE" before I talk to them. Then make an elaborate production of breathing and clearing my mind so I don't put any of my stereotypes and prejudices on them. Oh yeah, I think somebody is about to make SO MANY NEW FRIENDS.

Even though I tried to clear my mind my thoughts drifted back to Dan. So, in his honor I wore my hair down.

Chewbacca had straight hair assholes.
Gawd, get your Star Wars facts right!

Shabbat services at Central Reform Congregation in St. Louis, MO are held Friday night at 7:30pm and Saturday morning at 10:00 am. I chose Friday at 7:30.

I entered the space and was handed a large spiral notebook containing all the prayers for the evening Shabbat service. People were greeting one another and chatting. I tried to stay as open minded as possible, but then I overheard some ladies talking about how they recently won a trophy at the St. Louis (gay) Pride Parade for "Best Walking Group".

Oh crap. These people are lovely. No. No... Just because people support gay pride in such a fabulous way that they earn a trophy for it doesn't mean you should automatically attribute more positive characteristics to this church and it's congregation. Hold out. Stay open. SHERBET CLEANSE!

But it didn't matter. This place was amazing. It was an all around delightful experience.

Central Reform doesn't refer to it's space as a church or a temple or a synagogue but instead Sukkat Shalom, or "Shelter of Peace". I liked that.

The majority of the Shabbat service is in Hebrew - sing-song Hebrew. My favorite part was when we sang "Lie la lie" instead of actual words because I don't really know Hebrew and "lie la lie" is really fun to sing in harmony and also it reminded me of Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" which is a really great song.

The service had a specific order that is followed (more or less) for every service, which would explain why most people knew the prayers by heart and did not need their books like I did. Depending on the time of day and the time of year the words of the service vary slightly.

There were some rituals I was not acquainted with like - fanning the flame of the candle to your forehead and then holding your face and singing the prayer. At one point people started bowing randomly. For a while we turned around and faced the back of the room. But, apparently I blended in well. One woman turned to me to ask a question about the service thinking I was a regular. I couldn't help it, I took it as a huge compliment. There was a slightly confused look on the woman's face when I responded, "I have no idea" beaming ear to ear.

When it was time for "the lesson" the Rabbi walked up and spoke with poise and clarity. The sound of her voice and the pattern of her speech were immensely comforting. Her message was simple but powerful. She spoke briefly about current events (Zimmerman) and how "broken" the world was. She talked about those "Why me God?" moments and pleading with God for what we want when *often what we have is enough. Focusing on the good/focusing on what you DO have instead of focusing on the bad/focusing on what you DON'T have - that was her message. There was a Hebrew word for this concept of "what you have is enough". Ravlack? Ravloch? I'm not sure of the spelling. I couldn't find it on the Google. But I liked the concept. Focusing on the good has been a theme of late. I'm doing my best to let that message sink in.

Service ended with "Shaloms" and hugs and snacks. On my way out the door I was forced to take an apple juice cup from a woman who was blocking my exit. She was aggressively offering snacks to people. They had this beautiful spread and people were staying after to mingle and eat and be awesome together. But, I had to scoot. I had a very important date with a jug of sangria and a Liverpool Rummy match to attend.

I drove home with the windows down and my long curls flying free. It's been quite some time since I've cared about the cruel remarks of others. I'm awesome. Accept it and move on. I've got Dan Schwartz to thank for that. And all of you of course. Have I told you how grateful I am for your support along this journey? Have I told you how much it's meant to me? Have I awkwardly sung "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You" in your ear in my worst Rod Stewart whispered singing voice? Well, I need to. You need that experience. You also need to know that you are truly magnificent just as you are. You need to accept that about yourself and move on with confidence. Because it's true. Dan Schwartz says so.


Sangria anyone? I'm just kidding. I drank it all. (but I could make more...)

This Is Not A Blog Post

hello blog reader friends.

it's monday.

and i usually post on mondays.

but....

well....

uh....

that's just not going to happen.

i've never told you this, but i don't have internet at my house and about two months ago my macbook died so the only place i can write is at my job. this can make blogging a little more challenging, but don't cry for me argentina - i make it work.

it's just....

i really wanted to include a ridiculously embarrassing picture of me from adolescence for this post and i left it at home and i don't want to post without that picture. it's important...to me.

so....

i won't be posting until tomorrow.

in the meantime i shall leave you with some pictures for your viewing pleasure. we'll catch up tomorrow...

This is my cat. Cole. He's crazy. Crazy awesome.



This is a butterfly on a sunflower.
Every time I look at this picture I feel warm and happy.

The current cucumber count at the preschool is
27. We've grown 25 cucumbers from 1 plant.



 



This is blurry picture of goldfish I took at Petsmart
after I decided to become a foster mom for
cats. Because...yeah...I'm a cat lady.

 

This is the preschool herb box.
It's full of weeds, because ain't nobody got time for that.
Basil anyone? Please?










 

Mennonite Fellowship and the Dream of Phil Collins

On my flight home from Portland I was bookless. I finished my 2nd go around at the entire Hunger Games series and had 6 hours with nothing but my thoughts and my journal to entertain me. Luckily, I find myself highly amusing.

Free flowing ice cream is a common theme

There was about a week at my job where the children were obsessed with creating their "worlds" in the form of chalk drawings on the playground. Our practicum student would help them draw elaborate pictures of the various things that comprised their "dream world". Our usual black rubber playing surface was covered with colorful images of rainbow fish and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and dog houses and families holding hands and for some unknown reason the great state of California. So, as I was searching my imagination for something to do on the plane I took a lead from my children and decided to create a magical world of my own. Here's what I came up with:

In my world... (i actually wrote these things)

 

1. You wouldn't have to wear shoes because all the grass would be soft and it would always be sunny and 85 degrees.

2. Ice cream would grow on trees but somehow magically always be the perfect temperature.

                                                                   3. Bugs would co-exist with people peacefully.

                                                                   4. Giant tulips would grow year round.

                                                                   5. Everyone would have summers off.

Yup. And that was as far as I got before my naivety and stupidity came crashing down on me.  Clearly, I love summer time and my ideal world would be one where summer lasts forever. It's just - the grass doesn't get green without rain and neither do giant tulips for that matter. And if everyone has the summer off then who the hell is going to be running the electric company or picking up all the trash? We'll leave the ice cream tree thing alone because a lot of my dreams were crushed in that moment and I enjoy believing that somewhere in the world exists edible shrubbery covered with sweets like the ones in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Everything can't always be sunshine and rainbows. Sitting there on the plane it occurred to me that you either take the good with the bad or you get nothing...



This week was both BREATHTAKINGLY AMAZING and REALLY FUCKING HARD.

And I do believe that's life in a nutshell.

How do you balance these two? The beauty and the crap. That's what I'm struggling with.

Saturday I spent the day snuggling and shopping and swimming and sunning and laughing and dancing and eating fudge pops and watermelon for dinner. A truly magical day full of love and happiness! Then, BOOM, the "not guilty" verdict came down for George Zimmerman and it shook me to the very core. I couldn't stop myself from shutting down. The world is a horrible stupid place full of horrible stupid people. How could this be happening? It's just not right! I feel like crying. I feel like vomiting. This shouldn't be happening! I was having such a good day.


I couldn't wrap my curly tendrils around what was going on. So I sat in the dining room of Nathaniel and Rebecca's house in a stooper staring at Facebook, drinking wine and waiting for an explanation.

All that came to mind was the voice of the great Phil Collins singing -

This is the world we live in
And these are the hands were given
Use them and lets start trying
To make it a place worth living in.

I swallowed my wine along with realization that this is indeed the world we live in. The kind of world where things like this happen - horrible shitty awful things. But it's also the kind of world that includes swimming pool dance parties and thoughtful intelligent people who speak out for justice and change. This world we live in is both BREATHTAKINGLY AMAZING and REALLY FUCKING HARD.

I ended up staying the night at Rebecca and Nathaniel's house. We stayed up late doing Tarot card readings and eating sandwiches and having a sing-a-long. Then in the morning, I tagged along to their church - St. Louis Mennonite Fellowship. Well, Rebecca actually didn't come. She's not a morning person and this church started at 9:30 am. (We went to bed after 2am. Woo!)

You know what else is breathtakingly amazing and also really freaking hard?  Raising kids. I can't really tell you much about the service at STL Mennonite Fellowship because I spent most of the time being distracted by Rebecca and Nathaniel's two adorable children, Soren (4) and Margot (2), as well as the MANY other children in attendance this Sunday.

This is the ever adorable Margot, who
was so excited about church she wouldn't
stand still long enough to take a non-blurry
picture.

We were running late, as I hear parents of small children often are. There were several children running around the sanctuary. A little girl in a light cream and green dress offered me a lick of her bright red sucker. Though tempting, I politely declined and encouraged her to find her seat.

The play of "The Good Samaritan"

The rest of the service went something like this...

We sang a song I didn't know. We prayed. Margot and Soren ran to the back of the church to get bags filled with books and crayons and coloring pages. People said stuff. Nathaniel sshhed the kids. More people said stuff. I sshed the kids. We sang something else I didn't know. I held Margot and we both just sang "la la la". A drama group did a super cute  interpretation of "The Good Samaritan". Nathaniel took the kids to sit up front with all the other little people. Then they did a children's sermon about helping all of God's people (who incidentally is everyone). Then the kids came back. Nathaniel went up to read a Bible passage and I tried desperately to help Margot understand the concept of being "quiet".

Then it was time for the sermon. You know, that time when there is only one person talking for an extended period of time and everyone else is supposed to be really quiet and respectful. It usually comes after the children have already been required to sit silently for about 30 minutes and they are starting to get restless. Yeah...while Soren and Margot are FANTASTIC children they are NOT QUIET and are always full of energy and wonder. Nathaniel and I took turns sshing and saying "please whisper" and "you are being too loud!". I folded paper fans like I used to do as a child when I was required to sit through boring grown up talk. That entertained them for 5 minutes. Nathaniel was giving kiddie back massages to increase calm. I drew Margot a picture, which ended up pissing her off because it was HER piece of paper and I was NOT to touch it. There was crawling under the pew. There was sitting on laps. Standing. Walking. Margot and I took a brief tour of the grounds outside when the quiet became too much. We found a pine cone. Hooray!




 

 

Holy crap. Church with kids is exhausting...and kinda fun. I get bored listening to long sermons too, so when Margot needed an outdoor moment I was thrilled to join her. Also, this church didn't seem rattled by the chaos and chatter of it's many young members. People just spoke over the whines of little voices and carried on. I loved how inclusive this place was of children - the busy bags, the children's sermon, kids helping with various aspects of the service, etc. It would explain why most of the congregation was young families with young children. It wasn't clean or polished, but it was real. Children are a handful, but they bring such joy and life to a building. For the final song I held Margot and we swayed to the music making up our own lyrics (there was only one Hymnal and since Nathaniel is a professional singer he took the book). Margot belted out "la la la, Hello Kitty" with the most beautiful and infectious smile on her face. It was precious and heartwarming even though I was kinda tired and ready to go home. Once again - taking the good with the bad.

Soren finding a pine cone of his own and looking too adorable holing his children's Bible.

After the service ended I realized I had almost no idea what was said during church. I vaguely recalled one brief moment in the sermon where the guest speaker spoke about loving and helping your "neighbors" - all of your "neighbors". I remember this moment, because she specifically included both George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin in the list of people who are indeed our "neighbors". Loving all of God's people means just that - loving all of God's people including the super awesome amazing ones and the ones you'd like to punch in the face.


Uh. Yeah, I'm definitely still working on that one. No easy task there. But I suppose she's right. Though I'm not quite sure how loving and helping George Zimmerman would look in this moment.


After the dust settled from yesterdays decision I was able to collect my thoughts. My first reaction to events like this, as I outlined earlier, is to break down and lose all hope for the world. So, maybe not the most helpful reaction. I know I need to quit doing that. Bad things don't negate all the wonderful things happening in the world. It's just a sign that there's more work to be done. There are still good people fighting the good fight. My facebook feed was filled with outraged comments and videos of marches for justice and upcoming vigils for Trayvon's family and suggestions on how to get involved and effect change. Basically, I saw LOTS of people who were acknowledging the world we live in and using their hands to make it a place worth living in. They weren't giving up (like I was) and that brought me comfort and clarity. Phil Collins would be proud. (That song is actually a Genesis song, but it's confusing to say Genesis in a church blog so we'll just stick with Phil. The other guys understand.)

Also...there is Soren and Margot to think about now. And Madrid. And Lowery. And Claire. And Rosa. And Rylan. And Brynlee. And Teddy. And Lew. And Max. And Ruby. And Memphis. And Ophelia. And Scarlett. And Izzy. And Mia. And all my precious preschoolers. And all the babies my friends are going to be popping out over the next few years. And maybe, just maybe, (no promises here Mom) a little one of my own some day. If not for all the freaking kids everyone is insisting on having we could just burn the place down and call it quits, but nope, apparently we are going to have to fight tooth and nail to help live out Phil Collins' dream. For the sake of the children. I'm not entirely sure how we are supposed to do that but I have a feeling it has something to do with standing up for what's right, teaching them about truly loving and helping their neighbors and being a living example of God's love. And probably recycling and addressing climate change would be helpful as well.



I'd like to end with just a fun little unrelated tidbit concerning my church visit today. After service I wanted to snap a picture of the church sign. In my excitement I tripped over my feet and me and my blue polka dot dress went tumbling into the dirt with the comic grace of one Miss Mary Catherine Gallagher. I screamed out a very loud "OWWW!" as I felt myself bounce off the ground, skip an inch or two and crash again. I rose to my feet laughing and limping noticing a variety and scratches and sore spots as well as two jammed fingers (typing has been hard today). I snapped a picture I did NOT use in today's blog and slowly walked back to the car. Margot questioned, "Why'd you hurt yourself Sarah?" Because I'm ridiculous in practically every way Margot. Then I went home and ate a fudge pop while I nursed my wounds.

 

Good day my friends. Good day.



MEGA CHURCH

It was time.

A quaint rural church, a small gathering of Quakers, one on one with Scientology, a quiet stroll in the garden - I was taking the easy road.

It was time for crowds.  It was time for expansive parking lots with men in orange vests directing traffic. It was time for giant screens cascading from the ceiling and elaborate lighting schemes. It was time for hip young praise bands. It was time for compelling Christian performance art. It was time for hands up, "hallelujah", jumping around, and crying out. It was time for.....

MEGA CHURCH.

I returned from Portland, OR very late Friday night, fell into bed, woke up late Saturday afternoon and proceeded to spend the entire day doing laundry, cleaning my SUPER disgusting apartment and drinking tequila. 10 loads of laundry later I had washed my bed skirt, my mattress pad, my sheets, my pillow cases, BOTH of my comforters, my shower curtain, my bath mat, my kitchen rug, my dish towels, my bath towels, wash clothes, face towels, workout clothes, all of my socks, miscellaneous winter clothes I found buried in a corner behind a chair and several cardigans (my favorite clothing article of all time).  It was one of those cleaning frenzies where you find yourself bleaching the walls and organizing all the cleaning supplies under the sink.

Then on Sunday morning I realized I hadn't washed any actual clothes or underwear. Classic Sarah.

But I didn't really care. Afterall, I was going to MEGA CHURCH and who cares what they think of me anyway. Still, I had to find something decent. I couldn't see myself going braless in sweatpants and a tank top. That's just not my style. In my suitcase was one clean dress that never got worn during my Portland extravaganza. Lovely. Luckily I had many colorful cardigans to choose from. Perfect. And then in the back of the closet I found them - fancy uncomfortable underwear and a push-up bra from back in the day when I used to care about such things. I put myself together and looked in the mirror. Hey. Not too bad. I look kinda cute. Fairly slutty, but kinda cute.  Then I trotted off to church with cleavage that could have stopped traffic.

*I briefly considered inserting an image here as I do have one. But after finding my blog on websites like "guess her snatch" and "big booty hoes" I decided against it (stay classy Internet). It's fairly easy for your image to be made into porn without your consent, So, I've learned to be careful about the images I select. You'll just have to trust me on the cleave. It was impressive. AND totally inappropriate for church.

Navigating my way to church was easy - I just followed the long lines of cars to Faith Church in Earth City, MO. No real thought or energy required. I'd driven by Faith Church many times on my way to KCMO. Seeing how it's the size of a shopping mall it's hard to miss. One side of the building is lined with tall garages for semi-trucks to pull up to. This place is huge. Orange vested men guided me to a parking spot. I parked the car and watched as more and more people piled into the parking lot and bus after bus dropped off loads of excited people.

I expected this place to be ridiculously large. And I wasn't disappointed.

If it's been a while since you've been to church
you should know that dress codes no longer
exist.

Where most churches have a nice lady posted at the door to hand out bulletins and help answer questions this church had about 6 people just designated to OPEN the door. Then there was another group handing out information. THEN if you had any more questions you could visit the welcome desk equipped with TV's advertising church events, several helpful people, and goody bags for first time visitors (woo hoo!)

Personalized Faith Church umbrella anyone?

If you've got some time to kill before service begins you can grab a coffee or perhaps a snack from their coffee shop (i hear the cheese panini is excellent). Or maybe you would like to peruse the gift shop also located in the lobby? Gift shop?! I remember thinking how cool it was that my childhood church had a library and served donuts and lemonade drink. This church was all kinds of fancy.






They've got a summer camp. They have a preschool. They have a singles group for 20s, 30s, and 40s (my dad did always tell me to go to church and find a nice boy. hmm...). There is even a motorcycle group (Righteous Riders? Harleys to Heaven? God Squad? Lots of possibilities in that one). Oh! I forgot to tell you about the playground outside. It's clearly modeled after candy land with it's cupcake canopies and candy like colors. AND they stream contemporary christian music through the large above head speakers ALL THE TIME. I mean seriously!!!!

Truth be told, I'd already made up my mind about Faith Church before I even wheeled onto their parking lot. They have a Sunday morning TV spot I'd caught a few times. Joel Osteen has a cheeseball advertisement endorsing the church. Plus, I'd read lots of reviews about how the church only cares about money and nothing else and how affluent David and Nicole Crank (founding pastors) had become off scamming their congregations (they have multiple locations). Also, I don't care for MEGA CHURCHES. They seem fake to me as do the people who attend them. There was no real connection with God to be had there and no decent person to meet.

Well. I was wrong. I loved my experience at Faith Church and the lovely individuals I shared the moment with. I know, I know, it surprised me too.

There were things I wasn't crazy about. Like the hip praise band with a super smiley girl singing and wearing one of those ridiculous headbands that goes across your forehead and an oober cool and deep guy playing guitar and wearing a button down cowboy shirt complimented by his faded jeans and Fun. haircut. Excessively happy people freak me out. And I don't buy for one second that you are "high on Jesus". Please! Over smilers are usually on drugs, masking their infinite sadness or just had the best lay of their lives. Hope it's the latter praise band peeps.

Praise band. Note the fancy lighting scheme.

Usually I'm not much for Christian performance art - are you familiar with this art form? Usually it's a multi-media event. Powerful music, graphic images displayed on the screen, perhaps a lady in white dancing or just empty chairs. Anyway, it's usually meant to illicit strong emotions. Faith Church found a loophole in my distaste for Christian performance art - patriotic Christian performance art. Anything honoring service men and women tugs at my heartstrings. I have the utmost respect for the armed forces and am completely incapable of resisting a man in uniform. So, when Faith Church created a live version of the statue of Marines holding the American flag I was totally moved. Especially since this Sunday marked the 150th anniversary of the battle of Gettysburg, our most bloody American battle. It was done with just the right amount of cheese and reverence. Super smiley girl and cool guy sang "My Country Tis of Thee" in the background. I was powerless.

 

 

At this point, the room is now packed. According to the plaque on the wall, the large sanctuary can hold nearly 1700 people. There had to be at least 1000. I sat fairly close to the front on the aisle. Slowly, people came and filled in the seats around me. The singing and praying was done. It was sermon time and this week the church was hosting a special guest pastor - his name I don't remember, but he was amazing!

 

I laughed. I was surprised. I was confused. I was taken aback. I teared up a little. I felt peace. I felt joy. I felt inspired. What more could you ask for in a sermon?

 

The pastor was this young charismatic man in his 30's. His mannerisms and speech patterns reminded me of Dave Chappell. He had us all rolling in the aisles. Then he dropped a bomb - he told us about his pornography addiction. Pretty bold if you ask me. Porn ain't looked to kindly upon round these parts. In fact there's a sign along the highway saying "Pornography Destroys" with a picture of a sad child next to the words as if to say "every time you look at that Hot Lesbian Sluts page a child's heart is broken." I have no firm stance on pornography other than it's really not my deal, but I don't think it's murdering children. However, this pastor confessed it was something that HE FELT was destroying his life and he felt ashamed of it especially since he was a married pastor of a conservative church. He talked about how he felt he should quit the church - that he had become a hypocrite and was unfit to follow God. This is the part I liked - the part where he started talking about no matter who you are and no matter what you've done you are not beyond the point of being loved, by God or anyone - including yourself.

 

The whole crowd cheered. People jumped to their feet applauding and screaming. Apparently this is something we all have in common - thinking we aren't good enough, but wanting so desperately to be.

 

 

Merciful heavens, why is it so hard to love yourself?

 

There is that grand old saying that you can't really love anyone until you love yourself, but I don't think that's true at all. I think it's much easier to love other people than it is to love yourself. For some reason, it's easy to look beyond the flaws of others and see them for the wonderful people they are, but it's nearly impossible to do the same for ourselves.

 

Now, the sermon I listened to had a lot to do with Jesus. Through Jesus our sins are forgiven and through Jesus we have eternal life. There's nothing you can do to EARN this gift, this love, it is yours free, bought and paid for. No strings attached. Well, except , if you don't say "I believe Jesus is my savior and I accept him into my heart" and then, depending on what denomination of Christianity you believe in, get baptised and lead a righteous life then you not only don't get the gift of free love but you also burn in hell forever and ever.

To me, that sounds like some skeezy underhanded offer and I don't buy it. God's love is free, no fine print, to absolutely everyone - even people who don't believe in Jesus. You don't have to do or say anything - you are enough just as you are and just as you are you are worthy of great love.

 

I know how cheesy this sounds, but it's a message we all need to hear because lately I've been hearing the opposite from my friends and loved ones. I've been hearing about how much they hate themselves and how lost they feel and how ugly and stupid and so on and so on. So, apparently we all need a little more cheese in our lives. Break out the crackers! (and wine)

 

Let me channel my inner Whitney Houston for a moment....

I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I lived as I believed. No matter what they take from me... Blah Blah Blah. Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all. (The greatest looooooveee of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllllll...i could go on for days).

 

 

I believe in God. I've made no secret about that. I believe God loves us ALL unconditionally. Again, no secret. And I also believe that if God, who knows all and sees all, still loves us then the least we can do is love ourselves and each other. I've found great freedom in simply accepting myself for the amazing and beautiful person I am. Regardless of your belief system, I hope you can do the same.

 

 

Woo...I went off on a tangent and forgot about church. It was pretty much over after the sermon. We watched a few "inspiring stories" on the jumbo screens and then we prayed and gave some money (they ask for 10% like every church I've ever visited) and then got to wait in a long line to exit the sanctuary just to wait again in a long line to exit the parking lot.

 

 

The reason I loved Faith Church wasn't because of their fancy lights or their Chai Lattes or even their message about God's love. The reason I loved the visit was because it reminded me that there is something valuable in every experience and in every person for that matter. Another experience that wasn't what I expected it to be. 

 

Sheesh. 25 weeks left to go....I've got to stop setting expectations!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Up and The Grotto

Me and Rachel at Silver Dollar City 2012

I've known Rachel since 1st grade. We never cared for each other. Sure, from time to time we would enjoy a laugh at the same slumber party but neither of us thought of the other as a friend. We shared the same best friend and quickly became jealous rivals for her affection. Ya know, weird pre-adolescent girl crap. Then our junior year in High School Rachel and I discovered we'd both grown to have a similar interest - having a fucking good time.

 Rachel was the girl I danced naked with under the moonlight  She was there when we broke into the neighborhood pool and cut up our legs and hands drying to get back over the chain-link fence. From skinny dipping at a Pastor's house to coffee shops in Amsterdam I barely remember to needing someone to help you put on your pants - Rachel and I've enjoyed many fun adventures together. Over the years we've become good friends who love each other dearly. So, when Rachel moved to Portland, OR with her husband Russell I took yearly visits to see them so our adventures could continue. 

During my visit this year we didn't attend any wild parties, or drive around smoking pot, or get wasted and insist on dancing in our underwear. 

There were only two things we had planned:

1. Attending a church called The Grotto

2. Taking care of her newborn daughter. 

Hello Madrid. 

Don't get me wrong...those wild crazy parties were AMAZING. But, so was holding Madrid. 

Babies have never been my thing. I love kids, but I prefer them once they are old enough to walk and eat Cheetos and respond to sarcasm. However, I immediately fell in love with Madrid. Um, just look at her. She is an absolute delight. In fact I think she might be magical. I picture her having magical powers like Matilda - super human book reading and retention, a kind and gentle loving spirit as well as the power to make things move with her mind (both literally and figuratively - she seems that magical.) I felt an overwhelming love for this child as well as a deep need to protect her from the sadnesses and dangers of the world - but not protect like a Mama Bear, instead protect like an bear who wears a lot of flowy skirts, has giant hair and often behaves erratically perhaps mailing a big box of poop to any person who dare break her heart. Holding Madrid I felt like an Aunt and it filled my heart with warmth and love. 

During my time in Portland I needed to find a good church service. On Sunday I was planning to be in Gresham, OR visiting my dear friend Gabby. Driving into Portland would have been time consuming. In my internet research I came across a beautiful outdoor Catholic church called The Grotto that offered Mass every day at NOON. I'd been wanting to visit an outdoor church for a while and the fact this one was the only church offering weekdays services kinda sealed the deal. On Wednesday Rachel, Madrid and I would visit The Grotto. 

From what I can tell, traveling with a child is like camping - you have to bring so much equipment. There are strollers and covers and toys and blankets and diapers and pacifiers and sanitizer and changes of clothes and snacks and water and a first aid kit and a lamp and a ficus and a bullhorn and a.... I imagine mother's walking around with carpet bags like Mary Poppins - fully loaded with everything you could ever need. Ready for every situation. Even nuclear war.

We pulled into the parking lot of The Grotto, Madrid in tow, and found our way to the outdoor worship space. At this church we weren't greeted by welcomers with freshly printed bulletins but instead with a giant visitors center and large framed map. The Grotto was like a tourist attraction - a 62 acre religious tourist attraction. The Grotto was designed to be a place of worship, healing, reflection and closeness with the spirit. They offered daily church services, a spirituality program to increase closeness with The Divine as well as a counseling program to help heal from trauma. 

Arriving 15 minutes early we made our way to the outdoor worship space and took in the sights of tourists from all over the world snapping pictures and praying at the altar. Rachel and I took a seat on one of the bright green benches in the vast outdoor space and waited for the service to begin. Only a few people were sitting down. The Grotto is located at the base of a very very tall rock. Lush greenery surrounds the quiet reflective outdoor space. The deep green trees are tall and full and covering most of the sky. An altar rests inside a cave carved from the rock. Shelves of candles burn on both sides of the altar. From behind the trees you can hear the faint singing of a choir (not live, just a CD). Various water features trickle in the background. A warm breeze blew through the trees. The sun shone through the leaves creating beautiful shadows in the ground. It was quite peaceful.

I watched as people walked into a building. A monk was standing outside greeting people. Uh Oh. Is this NOT an outdoor service after all???  I left a breastfeeding Rachel and went to find answers (normalize public breastfeeding!) and indeed church was held indoors. The amazing outdoor sanctuary was not used for regular weekday mass. What a waste! If we were going to attend service at The Grotto it would have to be inside. Rachel looked at me, "It's your call" she said. I walked toward the chapel where the service was being held. Halfway there I turned around to Rachel and said, "Nah. It's too beautiful to be inside, lets skip service."

Instead we took a walk around the grounds, experiencing The Stations of The Cross - a path with 14 bronzed carvings depicting the timeline of Jesus's crucifixion - or what I like to call The Walk of Guilt. Every monument showed Jesus in severe pain, shamed, abused, and saddened. Every 25 feet there was another image of his suffering. It was supposed to be an emotional reflective experience. The green of the trails. The shaded seating across from each carving. The quiet. The sun shining through the leaves. It was all meant to illicit some deep connection with Jesus, because he DIED for our sins and we are forever in his debt.

To me this feels like manipulation and I don't like it. This tactic of bringing people to Jesus seems ridiculous to me. Believing in Jesus because you feel bad about how much he suffered kinda feels agreeing to go on a date with someone solely because you don't want to hurt his/her feelings. God doesn't need your pity date. I mean it's God for goodness sake. I have a hard time believing God wants our devotion to stem from guilt. The idea of someone staying in a relationship with me because they feel guilty for how much I've done for them doesn't really sound all that appealing. Now, someone devoting their life to me because they really truly love me does sound pretty nice.

Rachel and I took some time to share our beliefs about God, the universe and the afterlife - a subject we'd never talked much about before. Like most of my friends, Rachel is not particularly religious and considers herself an atheist. Though our religious beliefs vary we share a mutual belief in the importance of human connection and the power of love.  After our Guilt Walk we were done. The Grotto was a beautiful place but I was much more interested in eating sushi with Rachel and getting to hold Madrid some more.

During the drive Madrid revealed her thoughts on our religious experience - she wasn't that impressed and she was pretty hungry. Our drive to sushi involved Rachel cooing at Madrid and driving responsibly while my ass hung high in the air leaning over the seat frantically searching for the ever illusive pacifier of peace. My how things have changed. I thought to myself. And I fucking love it. 



It took me forever to write this blog post, because I'm currently on vacation and haven't cared too much about sticking to schedules or deadlines. I've been more interested in snuggling.

Russell snapped a pic of Madrid and I taking
a two hour "blog break". 

Madrid has this amazingly calm presence. She soothes you to sleep. Ugh. I adore her. And I adore bearing witness to the amazing parents my adventurous friends have become.



I'll shoot you straight. Sometimes I think growing up is the worst thing that ever happened to me. It can really be freaking miserable at times. It's hard. It's exhausting. It's expensive. But it's also filled with moments like falling asleep with your childhood friend's baby. And those moments are so amazing they (almost) make up for all the grown up crap you have to deal with. Being able to drink wine at 9 am ain't so bad either. It certainly helps.