Month: January 2010

I had the best intentions of writing a post about yesterday, but I was just too exhausted and went to bed after watching my favorite “fake news” shows. This morning I’m headed out to our Mid-Year Boards for the Yearly Meeting where I have been put on our leadership committee. Tonight I’m playing music with a friend in the church who is going to lead music with me tomorrow morning. This is the first time I’ll have led (or helped lead) Sunday music in about 5 years. I’m a little nervous but am going to do some of the songs we used to sing at Pasadena Mennonite, so that will be fun. I look forward to Cherice and Joel Bock visiting our meeting tomorrow and talking to us about their experience with Christian Peacemaker Teams. And then in the evening we’re watching a short film on Human Trafficking called “The Fields of Mudan.” So it’s a very full weekend. I appreciate all of you reading, your prayers and support.

Yesterday was a day on the run. My feet didn’t stop moving until sometime after 9pm last night and L was finally asleep. When I sat down, I felt like I was still moving, and my mind was jogging at a pace I couldn’t keep up with (which doesn’t say much). So I just sat there on the couch, holding our 2 month old, breathing and trying to step on the brakes. I find decompressing to be a difficult thing. I’m always anticipating the next thing to the fault of not fully being present in the moments I find myself in. Sometimes I catch myself not really breathing at all. Instead, settling for the short, choppy breathes in my upper-chest that leave one feeling tense and rushed.

It’s been a hectic week so today was the day for sermon writing. I often like to have it written on Thursday so I can use Friday as a day to rework and tweak what I’ve written or as a day for meetings, and working on other articles (like the one recently published in QL!). We went out for breakfast as a family this morning, an “unfortunate” consequence of having no coffee, eggs, milk, or oatmeal in the house.  After breakfast, which was tasty, I left the ladies to do their biding with a fellow by the name of Fred Meyer, or Freddie as his friends call him, and walked to Peet’s. What is it with all these names? Granted it is a Peet’s in a strip mall (rather than this, this, or this) but it’s still on some level Peet’s. (I think what you’re supposed to sense here is that I am subtly mentioning the fact that I miss Pasadena). Anyways, as is my coffee shop custom, I unloaded my mobile office: my stack of books, my legal pad filled with chicken scratch notes, my pen, my glasses, my headphones, my mouse — you get the picture, it’s quite a scene for the onlooker no doubt — all on a small round table in the corner and sat down to write with that high-octane cup o’ Peet’s.