.she must and shall go free.

I have this thought running through my head: this is an emergency.

And I can’t stop thinking about tiny faces framed by malnutritioned, brittle white hair and bloated bellies and feet covered in sores and filled with larvae. I just can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about the dying, starving, aching, loveless children. And I want to be there. I want to hold them and heal them and pray over them and laugh with them. I want them to know that they matter. I want to devote my lifes work to them, the least of the little children in the world. Not to posters for the “The Spirited Stuffy Boston Woman” conference, or the annual art gallery or the church bicentennial dinner that the catering alone cost enough to feed 2,334 children for an entire month in Africa (yes, I did the exact math). This is not the church. This is not what Jesus called us to do.  Yesterday I  placed the order for the trivia cards meant to commemorate 200 years of faithfulness to the Lord. It cost $2000, sans labor. That’s 67 children who could have eaten for a month. Or maybe recieved medical treatment. Or maybe just gone to a family towards adoption fees or the ten thousand other ways I could think to spend that money that would seemingly be more inline with the gospel.

We are stewards. And disciples. What in the world are we doing?

I have to quit my job. My integrity demands it. I cannot work for a church that uses their money this way. I feel sick to my stomach and I can’t do it any more. Please pray that God will provide something new. That will a work of love for Him & His beloveds. Pray for the little ones, and use your money wisely.

So I have spent the day weeping. The depths of my soul cries out: This is an emergency.

Summer in New England is ever so fleeting. We finally had weather that was sunny and 80 degrees… but not until August. And now it is September and the air is drying and cooling already.

Carolyn and her baby girl came yesterday for a quick visit. It’s the first time she has been in the city with me in ages. The last time, actually, was when we drove down to pick  Kyle up at the airport. That time that changed everything.  When we went kayaking and I realized my dear friend’s laughter and knowing glances were directed at someone altogether different from me. When we drove to the beach in the middle of the night and I sat in the back seat while they held hands up front. When he told her he wanted to marry her and kissed her on the couch.

But all those times before that. Those late evening drives into the city, with excitement at the sight of the skyline and the good music we were about to enjoy. When we would get lost over and over again, because north isn’t North in Boston. When we would head home over the bridge, with the moon fading over the buildings and the sun rising over the harbor. And I would always have that subtle ache in me. As Care slept in the seat beside me. And I would think that we are growing up, these days won’t last too long. And I would ache with lonliness at the thought of going our separate ways.

The fall has always brought a sadness with it. It takes away the summer, but it also still signifies the seperating of ways to me. Leaving for school, leaving for somewhere else. Leaving friends and family, or having them leave  me. It just always feels like I should be leaving, or be left.

And yet here I am in the midst of September. Not leaving anyone, nor being left. But rather making my way, rather quickly, toward an aisle row of trees in an apple orchard, where I will stand by a man and unite my life to him, committing to never leave one another.

I am good at a life of leaving, with countless moves throughout the years, it’s all I’ve ever known. Yet now things are shifting. I’m not drifting away like a leaf on the wind. My roots are entangling with the roots of another. And though our soil will change over the years, to Africa, the Middle East, Boston, and other wild places, we will remain entangled in one anothers lives. And we will grow and be made strong, and our fruit sweet.

Come, fall. A fall without leaving, but a fall full of changes nontheless.

I wrote this two years ago, from a coffee shop in Hawaii, on my 23rd birthday. In honor of passing my 25th, I thought I should re-post it. I am happy to say that many of these are in the works, and all are still dear to my heart.

August 17, 2007

My ambitions at 23:

-    Drive cross country [in the Chevelle]
-    Own a Chevelle
-    Backpack through Europe
-    Get my pilots license
-    Hike the Appalachian trail
-    Fall in love
-    Live on a remote island in the pacific
-    Live on a sailboat in Greece
-    Live in Ireland
-    Go to Alaska
-    Raise horses
-    Have an old farmhouse
-    Fill said farmhouse with naughty, wild children who need freedom and a lot of love
-    Fall in love with a man who is my best friend
-    Be romanced by said man
-    Marry said man
-    Spend the night on the beach
-    Watch the sunrise every year on my birthday
-    Have a house that’s always open to anyone
-    Learn to play the guitar
-    Become a potter
-    Keep painting
-    Write at least three reading worthy novels
-    Have a feature in national geographic
-    Change a life with a simple touch
-    Love the broken
-    Care for the dying
-    Go where i’m sent
-    Learn Arabic
-    Watch a game at Fenway
-    Go to Sudan and Palestine
-    Live in the middle east
-    Hike the Himalayas
-    Start a micro financing program somewhere
-    Adopt kids as much as God allows
-    Have kids of my own
-    Dance under a pier when the tide is coming in
-    Get “beloved” tattooed on my wrist
-    Learn to develop my own film
-    See the grand canyon
-    Explore Rome
-    Live in a London [and/or Dublin] flat
-    Live in Boston
-    Go to a prestigious Grad school
-    Visit my family often
-    Love the refugees
-    Make a documentary

[keeps boredom/uncreativity away].

My friend Sarah Harrington has started posting a photo-a-day on her Flickr account. I love it. I love her. You would too, you should go check it out. Sarah, I should like to join you in this endeavor, but lack a digital camera of my own. Hopefully lots of wedding money will be used for this. Ha.

Be satisfied with what you have, and carve a life out of it.”

Where thou art- that- is Home.”
- Emily Dickinson

Joel & I signed a lease on our first home this weekend. It’s actually a studio apartment with a loft sleeping area. But it’s lovely. An old yellow victorian with a front porch and large, old trees all around. We have an antique cherry wood bar for our friends to sit at, and many built in bookcases. We are already envisioning late night parties with good food and laughter, and cozy nights with dark coffee and books.

It’s a huge blessing to have a place that will be a refuge. Our neighborhood is rough and loud, and so having a peaceful space to call Home is much appreciated.