The Lion (doesn’t) sleep tonight (or this morning)

I can’t sleep anymore.

3 hours do not suffice this girl. If I had my way, I’d get 12 hours of sleep a night. I love to be curled up in the fetal position with a blanket or 10 wrapped around me. I love feeling protected from the “cold” air under a blanket. I just do.

But I can’t.

I have no idea why. It could be a sundry of reasons, no doubt. I have my hunches.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting in bed at 5:30 am on Thanksgiving. I’ve been awake since 3, fell asleep at 1:45 pm. Yes. That’s not even one R-E-M cycle. Not one.

Perhaps tonight I’ll sleep.

in the jungle, the mighty jungle

Some of you know that I’ve embarked upon a time of great transition. Friendships have rapidly morphed in the LA (and beyond) area. I feel like I’m starting to get my feet reacquainted with the rest of me.

I had a wonderful time at a convention last week, perhaps in great account to the support and encouragement I found whilst sitting at HQ for hours upon hours. Seriously. Hours. Watching people eat candy. I digress.

There are many exciting things on the horizon, none less than some writing and research projects in the near future. I’m extremely excited to get back into theology but not for a grade – but for others. I’m hopeful that I get to engage a part of my mind I enjoy stretching, all the while asking questions hopefully for the benefit of many others. Let’s cross those fingers!

In addition, I’m a part of a launch team for a church. Those of you who know me remotely well are likely laughing. The girl who likes to think analytically is also a bit of a cynic when it comes to church lately (ahem, alongtimecoming). Regardless, I am a part of it for a number of reasons, in part to force myself to ask some hard questions, in part to finish my degree, and in part because the essence of the initial conversation regarding the church plant are compelling to me –  if done well.

Some days I’m happy with that latter element. Other days… maybe not so much. (I hate being such a perfectionist about some things.)

Anyway, I decided that it would be a good practice to really engage my mind and my feelings creatively (that is, as creative as a blog is) – perhaps others are asking similar questions about the church. As it is, I am essentially revisiting the whole idea of church and why I have issues with it. It’s not to say I’m completely done. Nor does it say that I’m sold on the Protestant with a twist of American evangelicalism as it stands church, but heck, my experience is no less fodder for discussion.

So if you’re interested in what I”m thinking, feeling, questioning, or just want to laugh at me – you ought to head on over to – I promise, I occasionally have a good thought. And I’d love yours too.

do you remember, the 21st of september?

From now on, I know what I’ll say happened in late hours of that night (ok, so really, it was sept. 22nd – shhh). I went to turn off the fan in my room, and realized that something was happening outside my window. I looked out to see two guys fighting on the street and one of the guys slamming the other guy’s head on the ground.

Meanwhile, three friends looked on.

I wrestled with the decision – what does it mean to do nothing? I have to call. This is going to sound weird, right?

Of course the dispatchers amused me. I give my addresss, “you’re in Pasadena?” “yes.” “Hold on, I need to connect you with Pasadena.” Get connected, and what happens? Oh, this is the LAPD. I swear, it wasn’t me. Connecting me to Pasadena PD. For the third time we get my name (which, by the way, is now a cross between Miffy and Liddy. Who knew?)

As I stand in my room, watching the fight start to slow, and hear the helicopters taking off, the 5 guys run – somewhere. No idea where, but I can hear the feet pick up the pace.

Is it weird that all I can think about is how my window had the light on?

21st of September – earth, wind and fire

my own kind of life

I was bored.

I didn’t want to be.

I am not now bored.

But I want to be .

These… are the days of my life.

my own kind of life – katie herzig

tonight’s gonna be a good night

Since I moved to LA 3 years ago this Monday – (WHOA!) – I’ve taken quite a few cross country trips. I love to travel, by plane or by car. My ideal weekend involves 8 hours in a car, minimum. I have no problem driving as long as I possibly can, sometimes to the demise of my friends’ patience. College friends should have memories of my taking the long way home from Ocean City b/c I hated the PA turnpike so much (what a miserable road).

Despite the love for driving, to get home requires more flying than driving, which has of course increased my frequent flier miles exponentially. Flights from LA to Boston, Pittsburgh, Erie, St. Paul, Phoenix and Indianapolis are all in my repertoire. I love meeting a new airport, to the chagrin of bank account.

But I’m in an awkward position with my frequent flier miles. For one, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll live on the West Coast. Some days I think I could do this for the rest of my life. Other days I can’t imagine another year. It depends so much on professional decisions I have yet to determine (let’s NOT get into that, m’kay?).

The problem? I’m a bit more than 1,000 miles away from hitting a free flight with one airline, and one roundtrip ticket away from the same with another. But in order to get home for the holidays, I won’t have enough of those miles – I grew up in one of those towns that getting a free ticket into is the biggest joke ever. When your home airport has 6 gates, you know you’re selections for travel are minimal at best.

So friends, should I just sit on the miles? Buy the 2000 to get me over the limit and have a $10 flight to visit friends? Hold the miles and take advantage of the benefits of traveling with those miles accrued (free checked luggage, early boarding, etc). Or just keep adding up miles and whenever (if ever) I move, be able to travel back to LA cheaply?

You be the judge. (Funny, I think I just made my decision. But tell me please your thoughts!)

watching the world go by

I live in Los Angeles, land of silicon (boobs, not the valley). I’ve essentially completed a Master’s degree I wish I’d never signed up for.

My life has been filled with friendships + school (degree) ==> change + transition of relationships.

I always hated chemistry – conceptually, of course, I loved it. But memorizing equations just bored me. Go look it up in a book, right? I’m realizing how much of an anti-fan I am of the catalyst in my equation – (see transition). Change I can deal with. Things change. It happens, and you deal.

But lately, the last thing I’ve really wanted to deal with – is all of these gosh darn transitions. I’ve done a relatively impressive job (if I do say so myself) of hiding from some of them. While I typically have no fear in addressing what’s going on in my friendships, I’m not going to lie – I haven’t in the last 7 months. I’ve waited.

And waited.

And now, I feel like I’ve made a HUGE mistake.

I remember why I’ve addressed them in the past. The impasses that are forged if not addressed seem tantamount to oceans – oceans filled with salt water I’m not always willing to potentially fall into – in case you haven’t heard, bug bites + salt aren’t fun.

I’m not quite sure what I’m saying here, but here’s what I can (un)comfortably say: as I’ve reiterated in the last few months, things have been hard. Things are changing. I’m ready for the changes, not for the transitions. But I hope that there is some good transition coming for my friends, if nothing else. They deserve it.

And maybe some good will float in this lady’s direction in the near future. Cuz if I know one thing, I could use some fun again.

momentary setback – marc broussard

everytime you go away

I’m about to endeavor on a trip I never imagined (and frankly attempted to avoid in 2006): a cross-country road trip with my mother. It’s a long story – one I’ll save for a day when I’m not attempting a laundry list of events, including but not limited to:

– Bed Bath and Beyond
– Finishing cleaning my room
– Packing for a road trip with – need I remind you?
– Lunch with a friend
– Selling books back
– Bank trips

You know, the fun stuff in life, right?

I’m blaming twitter for this song now being (as apropos as it may) stuck in my head. Thanks DB.

paul young – every time you go away

be careful, your future’s at stake

I doubt that Joy has any memory of the conversation – which likely is a sign of a  good campus minister. I was in no shape or form easy to work with, my guess. Obstinate. Opinionated. Unwilling to believe that God would “call” – rhetoric that I struggled with so often (truth be told, I still do, and even more so now, as my roommate would attest).

She kept trying to get me to apply for a job with her organization – and I kept laughing in her face. My guess is that she rolled her eyes (inside her head of course, not visible to me). I never told her that when I was moving to college, in the car on the drive on I-79 with my mother, I said, “I’m not going into medicine, and I’m not going into public relations. I think God is calling me to ministry.” The unspoken words were “and I really don’t like this thought.” When my mother, STUNNED, heard me say it, she looked at me and said, “doing?”

“Campus Ministry.”

The irony bleeds here – I had no idea what that meant. I had had not even one day of a collegiate experience, and yet I was confident I would be in college ministry. Flash forward 3 years, and I’m telling my boyfriend that I refuse to go into pastoral ministry, it’s too frustrating an idea, and I’m going to work in public relations. Hearty laughter.

5 months later, I’m in a conversation with one of my best friends and I say, “you know how I hate youth ministry? Uh, I think that’s what I’m going to end up doing.” She said, “duh.”

I have this unfortunate and obnoxious habit of having to bite my tongue often with God. Perhaps it’s because God likes slapping me in the face. Or perhaps, whatever this concept of discernment is I have a habit of hating. Or not trusting – at all. (Read: both).

When convinced that I was doing youth ministry for the rest of my adult life, teaching perhaps, or in the very least, speaking and writing, I had determined that in no way, shape or form would I ever consider doing college ministry again.

Those who know me well will feverishly nod their heads up and down when I make my next statement: the last year of my life has been extremely difficult. I could go on with all the problems/challenges/heartaches/stressors.  My plans appear somewhat shattered. I’ve spoken to few of the people who could actually speak into my troubles, in part because of my fear of being told I’m not intelligent, able or desirable enough to do what I’ve dreamt of for six-plus years. Certainly some of my friends of whom I’ve revealed these dreams are encouraging – but truth be told, I don’t know how much I trust the encouragers, though I certainly affirm the non-words of the voiceless or non-confirmands.

During my internship, one of our main goals surrounded discernment. Again, a concept I have little trust in anymore. I tried to hang tough and often would have preferred to say the “right” answer to my actual thoughts: that this perpetual game of BS should end. But I didn’t and found myself at the end of my internship so broken, hopeless and confused, that researching management positions or degrees in educational or organization leadership were more appealing than “ministry” jobs. Perpetual degrees in a variety of fields would probably surmize my life, I’d determined.

In the last 4 months, I’d given up on every dream, hope or promise I thought were mutual of mine and God’s – this “call” was not shared, but a futile hope for a foolish woman.

I can’t explain precisely when, but I’ve started to ask questions of myself recently – I’m sure some have been so deeply rooted that I’m not fully conscious of all the questions, but 3 weeks ago I asked a friend if he would discuss w/ me a ministry. I’ve been in a world of trying to figure out if I can at least narrow down my life to perhaps a profession, a region or an environment. Even to eliminate would be helpful.

I find myself brought back to Dr. Na’s office my sr. year of college, crying that, I didn’t want to do pastoral ministry, I could do any number of jobs and doing them with excellence and commendation. And his response, “uh huh. but what is God calling you to do.” I was mad then. And still today, maybe. About 8 hours ago even, I uttered that I wanted a mulligan. I wanted to redo financial, professional, and academic decisions – not all major, but enough to make this life a bit different than it sits presently.

And like many of those rather extremely inopportunely timed “ah-ha” moments that have been presented in my life in the last 27 years, this critic may have had one of my hoped-for, yet un-trusting moments this early morning. I can’t get into it right now – I need much more processing, conversations, questions, and prayer. I know I am a poor representative of what “prayer” even looks like in a person’s life – a seminarian, no less. But if you happen to have made it all the way through this Jerry Maguire-like manifesto mission statement, feel free to throw a prayer or two there for me, eh?

musical seatsCabin

everything has changed

changes are good.




it begins.

william fitzsimmons – everything has changed

all I care is that you reach for me

libby wants:

– debt to not exist
– friendships to be reinstated
– life to begin again around 2003
– to sleep w/o nightmares about homework not being completed
– a functioning car
– gas prices to drop
– a plan
– a summer job
– lots more laughter again
– to talk again

And you???

Last Time – Paper Route