My brother blogged about this song. I can honestly say I've never paid attention to this artist and was for the most part unaware of his music. However, this song kills me. But in a totally good way.
http://mahndo.blogspot.com/2012/01/quick-thought-on-lupe-fiasco.html
I started crying while watching it. Yes, you heard me, crying. Not because of the beauty of the song, or the well done filmography, but because of what my heart suddenly felt. It's no secret that this world is a mess. Wars, famine, domestic abuse, drugs, etc. But it stays in the back of our minds for the most part. We, being North Americans, tend to live focused on ourselves, our image, our lives. The news shows us scenes and stories of the atrocities but they lace it with pop culture news in order to dumb down the seriousness of the pain that exists outside our comfy computer screen. My mind knows this. My mind understands what poverty looks like, I've seen it. Both domestically and abroad. My mind understands violence and hate. This is not news to my mind. But my heart. My heart is naive. My heart is shattered because as sad as I am for those less fortunate, my selfishness has a way of pretending they don't exist.
This song, portrays that. It made this connection for me between my head and my heart. And that's why I cried.
The more I listened, the more I thought about Grace. I realize that I may have just lost some of you but stick with me. Christ came so that grace could be freely given. My mind, that recognizes sin exists, shelters my heart from acknowledging it. This is why Grace was given. This is why it is received. So that in my ignorance, in my blatant act of ignoring the realities that surround me, I can still be unconditionally loved. I still receive what I don't deserve. What none of us deserve. Sadly I am a product of my environment, as you all are. I'm sheltered because my whole like I've lived in middle class white suburbia. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's my world. By nature mine is an ignorant, close minded, selfish world. So as a product, and often a voluntary one, I need that Grace more than ever.
As much as I'd love to run away and make a difference, I can't. I have a life here that I love, that loves me. That needs me. But thankfully there are those fighting for peace, those speaking out about injustice and intolerance.
This seems incoherent, and I apologize. But it all comes down to this: I'm grateful for my life. But more importantly, I'm grateful for Grace. I'm grateful that this is not it. That this broken, crappy world, is not the end. It breaks me to tears to hear/see such violence and hate, but I hold onto the hope that hate will not always win, disparity will not always triumph, and pain will someday be gone. This is because of the Grace that is freely given and freely received.
Friday, January 20, 2012
thoughts
Over the past few weeks so much has popped into my head where I've thought, wow I should really blog about that. I don't have that many readers, I don't think, so blogging really is more for me and not about what you, the scarce reader, gets out of it. Forgive me if the next few entries are random, and unconnected. . . .
Monday, December 12, 2011
Dear Brother,
I've been thinking about you a lot these last few days. I've been trying to recall my final week in CR nearly 8 years ago and I'm having trouble.
*If you're unaware, he's been in Spain since September through a study abroad program and will be returning before X-mas.*
You've done an amazing job detailing your experience in your blog. I've loved every bit of your writing as you've worked to express your heart and what that place has done to it. I recognize and I hope you do as well that what you've typed and submitted into the eternity that is the Internet is not as much a recounting for your friends and family as much as it is for yourself. You'll be grateful that you blogged about it. Trust me. I wish blogging had been more popular 8 years ago. Perhaps I wouldn't be having such a hard time remembering my journey abroad if I had kept a better and more permanent log of it.
There will be a time not long from now, where you'll long to go back. Maybe you'll be married with kids, maybe you'll be just beginning a career that won't let you travel. But something will make you Desirae a visit. And you won't be able to go.
There's something to be said about living alone. Independence, self sufficiency, responsibility, it's such a big step in a young persons life. It's one that in our culture is expected and anticipated. Most people we know have done it. Few that we know still live with their parents at our age(s). But it's a whole other animal to leave your independent life and your family and your friends and cross oceans to live alone, somewhere you've never been.
I remember little things. Little things that made the journey so much more meaningful. Like the pizza shop near campus that would serve made to order calzones. Or the little kids that lived down the street. Their mom made and sold chocolate covered bananas out of her home. Delicious. Or the farmers market that stretched for nearly 2 miles of open parking lot every weekend. Riding the bus everywhere, walking everywhere, the ridiculousness convenience of the ocean and a Caribbean filled weekend. These are small things that will reside in my heart and my mind forever as keepsakes. Parts of my semester that I hold dearly.
And then I remember the loneliness. After the rush of new friends, new languages, new food wore off, I realized I was alone. You go from the ecstasy of this leap of independence you've taken to sudden depression from not having anyone to share it with. You think "wow I have so much to share with my family, my friends, when I return". But then you realize nobody's going to really care about my time here. They're not going to find joy in my description of my quaint apartment or the pastry shop that I visited daily after class. They're not going to relish in my experiences of riding a bus 3 hours standing to get to the beach every other weekend. And I know that they won't care really about all the amazing people I met from other countries that introduced me to so many cultures and personalities. It's just you. It was just me. I was there for me as you have taken this trip for yourself.
You'll return, you'll have great stories to tell and pictures to show. We'll act interested and excited for you. But then we'll move on. We'll find other things to talk about, like our own lives, the trips we've taken, the things that have kept us busy since you've been gone. And life for us will go back to normal; with you in school in Atlanta and us here waiting for your next visit.
I don't write this to get you down. Understand that these past few months have probably been the most important of your life. Not because you traveled abroad, not because you leaned a new language. But because you took time to see things, do things, meet people all.by.yourself. With no ability of returning until your time ends. And that is the perfect environment for you to learn who you are. Or at least to start learning who you are. To be physically and emotionally stranded in a place so far removed from normal life. To be able to strip away all the crap of the everyday and focus on yourself. To have time alone where nobody is expecting you. Where there isn't a load of responsibilities to take care of. It's just you, your thoughts, your doubts, in a place that you'll tell people about but who will never truly understand.
Cherish this last week. Soak as much Spain up as you possibly can. Write until your fingers bleed. I wish I had had someone to tell me these things. I wish that I could turn back time and chronicle all the amazingness and loneliness that I experienced in my time abroad.
I love you and I can't wait to see you next week, to hear more about your journey and the lessons you've learned. Take care brother and safe travels home.
Love, Becca
*If you're unaware, he's been in Spain since September through a study abroad program and will be returning before X-mas.*
You've done an amazing job detailing your experience in your blog. I've loved every bit of your writing as you've worked to express your heart and what that place has done to it. I recognize and I hope you do as well that what you've typed and submitted into the eternity that is the Internet is not as much a recounting for your friends and family as much as it is for yourself. You'll be grateful that you blogged about it. Trust me. I wish blogging had been more popular 8 years ago. Perhaps I wouldn't be having such a hard time remembering my journey abroad if I had kept a better and more permanent log of it.
There will be a time not long from now, where you'll long to go back. Maybe you'll be married with kids, maybe you'll be just beginning a career that won't let you travel. But something will make you Desirae a visit. And you won't be able to go.
There's something to be said about living alone. Independence, self sufficiency, responsibility, it's such a big step in a young persons life. It's one that in our culture is expected and anticipated. Most people we know have done it. Few that we know still live with their parents at our age(s). But it's a whole other animal to leave your independent life and your family and your friends and cross oceans to live alone, somewhere you've never been.
I remember little things. Little things that made the journey so much more meaningful. Like the pizza shop near campus that would serve made to order calzones. Or the little kids that lived down the street. Their mom made and sold chocolate covered bananas out of her home. Delicious. Or the farmers market that stretched for nearly 2 miles of open parking lot every weekend. Riding the bus everywhere, walking everywhere, the ridiculousness convenience of the ocean and a Caribbean filled weekend. These are small things that will reside in my heart and my mind forever as keepsakes. Parts of my semester that I hold dearly.
And then I remember the loneliness. After the rush of new friends, new languages, new food wore off, I realized I was alone. You go from the ecstasy of this leap of independence you've taken to sudden depression from not having anyone to share it with. You think "wow I have so much to share with my family, my friends, when I return". But then you realize nobody's going to really care about my time here. They're not going to find joy in my description of my quaint apartment or the pastry shop that I visited daily after class. They're not going to relish in my experiences of riding a bus 3 hours standing to get to the beach every other weekend. And I know that they won't care really about all the amazing people I met from other countries that introduced me to so many cultures and personalities. It's just you. It was just me. I was there for me as you have taken this trip for yourself.
You'll return, you'll have great stories to tell and pictures to show. We'll act interested and excited for you. But then we'll move on. We'll find other things to talk about, like our own lives, the trips we've taken, the things that have kept us busy since you've been gone. And life for us will go back to normal; with you in school in Atlanta and us here waiting for your next visit.
I don't write this to get you down. Understand that these past few months have probably been the most important of your life. Not because you traveled abroad, not because you leaned a new language. But because you took time to see things, do things, meet people all.by.yourself. With no ability of returning until your time ends. And that is the perfect environment for you to learn who you are. Or at least to start learning who you are. To be physically and emotionally stranded in a place so far removed from normal life. To be able to strip away all the crap of the everyday and focus on yourself. To have time alone where nobody is expecting you. Where there isn't a load of responsibilities to take care of. It's just you, your thoughts, your doubts, in a place that you'll tell people about but who will never truly understand.
Cherish this last week. Soak as much Spain up as you possibly can. Write until your fingers bleed. I wish I had had someone to tell me these things. I wish that I could turn back time and chronicle all the amazingness and loneliness that I experienced in my time abroad.
I love you and I can't wait to see you next week, to hear more about your journey and the lessons you've learned. Take care brother and safe travels home.
Love, Becca
Thursday, November 3, 2011
On Rainy Days
I like to bake. This morning, I had two kids so grumpy that even the tv was of no help. So we baked. I mean, R sat in his excersaucer while chomping on cheerios, B stood on a chair repeatedly asking me for a "taste" and I did the actual baking.
A few years ago I dove into my Jewish roots, and learned how to make some baked goods that would make my Polish/German ancestors proud. The first was Kamish bread. It's a lot like biscotti but not so crumbly. It's super easy and fairly quick. It's not a yeast bread so it only take about 30 min. from ingredients to edible. I'd post a picture but by 1pm it's almost all gone and not that pretty anymore.
The second thing I learned to cook was challah bread. This is my fav. It's sweet, and light, and fluffy. It's great for breakfast, snack, or as french toast once it's a few days old (if it lasts that long.) The recipe is here. I use my bread machine for almost all baked goods, even if I don't have a bread machine recipe. I improvise and figure out how to make it work with the bread machine. Like most moms with young kids I don't have time to stand and hand knead dough for 15 min. Why bother when a machine can do the job for you. So here is my risen yet pre-baked loaf of braided goodness. It's baking now and I can't wait for it to be done.
A few years ago I dove into my Jewish roots, and learned how to make some baked goods that would make my Polish/German ancestors proud. The first was Kamish bread. It's a lot like biscotti but not so crumbly. It's super easy and fairly quick. It's not a yeast bread so it only take about 30 min. from ingredients to edible. I'd post a picture but by 1pm it's almost all gone and not that pretty anymore.
The second thing I learned to cook was challah bread. This is my fav. It's sweet, and light, and fluffy. It's great for breakfast, snack, or as french toast once it's a few days old (if it lasts that long.) The recipe is here. I use my bread machine for almost all baked goods, even if I don't have a bread machine recipe. I improvise and figure out how to make it work with the bread machine. Like most moms with young kids I don't have time to stand and hand knead dough for 15 min. Why bother when a machine can do the job for you. So here is my risen yet pre-baked loaf of braided goodness. It's baking now and I can't wait for it to be done.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
If I Was More Organized
1. I'd blog more. I'm constantly thinking of great things to blog about. But I don't. I like to think that I do a pretty good job of managing my time, but I guess if I were really good, I'd pencil in an hour a week to sit down and write, which I don't. Which is obvious if you notice the month long gap between blog entries.
2. I'd send my brother a care package. It's been nagging at me for weeks to get a small care package together and mail to my brother who's currently spending a semester abroad in Salamanca, Spain. I remember getting mail in college and when I went abroad. It was the best thing ever to have a tiny taste of home while you're so far away. I promise, Mondo. I will send you something before you come home in December.
3. I'd create more. This weekend it became painfully apparent that my kid needs new shoes. He's outgrown the baby sizes and isn't big enough for the next group of hand-me-downs we've received. So after weeks of squishing his feet into booties, I cut out a few hours of the weekend to make him some shoes. I used to do make tons for Bela and even for friends that requested them. But I've just not had the same enthusiasm to do them for R. i think it's because this kid likes to drain as much energy from me as he can leaving me in no mood to do anything nice for him once he's gone to bed....#badmommy
Anyways, I made two pairs and was so excited with myself and the fact that he now has shoes to wear. It made me miss the old days when I made the time to do things like this. Oh and did I mention that 3 weeks ago B and I went to the fabric store and bought some awesome fabric to make her Halloween costume? Guess who then turned around and bought a jasmine outfit off Amazon three days later?...this girl.So here's to new shoes, care packages and blogging! Maybe I'll have more free time once they get to high school. A girl can dream.
2. I'd send my brother a care package. It's been nagging at me for weeks to get a small care package together and mail to my brother who's currently spending a semester abroad in Salamanca, Spain. I remember getting mail in college and when I went abroad. It was the best thing ever to have a tiny taste of home while you're so far away. I promise, Mondo. I will send you something before you come home in December.
3. I'd create more. This weekend it became painfully apparent that my kid needs new shoes. He's outgrown the baby sizes and isn't big enough for the next group of hand-me-downs we've received. So after weeks of squishing his feet into booties, I cut out a few hours of the weekend to make him some shoes. I used to do make tons for Bela and even for friends that requested them. But I've just not had the same enthusiasm to do them for R. i think it's because this kid likes to drain as much energy from me as he can leaving me in no mood to do anything nice for him once he's gone to bed....#badmommy
Anyways, I made two pairs and was so excited with myself and the fact that he now has shoes to wear. It made me miss the old days when I made the time to do things like this. Oh and did I mention that 3 weeks ago B and I went to the fabric store and bought some awesome fabric to make her Halloween costume? Guess who then turned around and bought a jasmine outfit off Amazon three days later?...this girl.So here's to new shoes, care packages and blogging! Maybe I'll have more free time once they get to high school. A girl can dream.
October
We've had a busy few weeks.
It started with the pumpkin patch at Theis Farm... If you live in St. Louis and have small kids make sure you do this next year. It's awesome! We got two "baby" pumpkins, ran through the corn maze, played on the slides and adventured through the hay bail tunnels. It was a huge hit.
We made a visit to Boo at the Zoo as well. This was a bit of a disappointment because most of the animals were inside do to the cold. The idea of this is to dress up in your costume, stand in a line that weaves all throughout the zoo and stop at a table every 50 feet to receive a piece of candy. It's a nice idea but for the 10 pieces of candy and the hour we were there, it just didn't seem worth it. Anyways, we met up with some new friends from Brazil which was probably the highlight.
Halloween couldn't have gone better. We stayed at home this year for trick o treating. With B dressed at Jasmine and R sporting B's monkey costume from last year (who says there aren't benefits to having 2 kids in 2 years?) we ventured out for some candy. B did great. She walked right up to the homes and said "trick o treat", held out her bag and then thanked the neighbors as she headed back to the side walk. I was so proud of her. After doing about a dozen homes, we returned to ours and I told B she could help me pass out candy to the kids. We sat on the porch and every time a kid walked up she handed them one piece and told them "trick o treat". I had to keep reminding her that that is what you say when you're the one actually trick o treating. Not when you're handing out candy. Oh well. She agreed to 3 pieces of candy from her bag for the night. Kids were in bed by 8, we got a decent amount of chocolate to eat over the next week and nobody refused sleep due to sugar highs. All in all, success.
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